24

you held out the tupperware container filled to the brim with recently baked chocolate chips—the sweet, warm scent wafting through the plastic. "i did, yes. though i wasn't sure if you had any allergies, so don't feel any pressure to eat them or anything. i just thought it'd be rude to come over without bringing anything."

oh great. less than five minutes into this conversation and you were already rambling.

suguru took the container of baked goods from your hands with a wary look, bringing it up to his nose. "you're not a serial killer by any chance, are you?"

you blinked. "if i was, wouldn't it defeat the purpose of telling you now?" not very reassuring.

regardless, he gestured for you to come inside. you stepped inside the apartment and slid your shoes off at the door, taking in the sight of his living room.

the space was bathed in a dark red light accompanied by sonder’s one night only playing in the background and a couple candles flickering from the coffee table—the warm richness of sandalwood permeating through the air.

“you.. uh.. you really planned this out, huh?” why couldn’t you just have said it looked nice and moved on?

now it was just plain awkward.

well, awkward-er.

sure, you knew the concept of sex and how it was supposed to work, but what every hookup guide always forgot to cover was the before. even if you'd talked before this, the two of you were just strangers. what were you supposed to talk about with him?

how were you supposed to skip this part and go to where you were riding him like a pony?

suguru shrugged, padding over to the kitchen to leave the container of cookies on the counter. “did i do too much?”

“it’s just your apartment and all, but the lights seem a little.. excessive.” that was putting it as nicely as possible.

he took the criticism in stride, grabbing a remote from the counter and turning them off before flicking a lamp on, painting the room in a dim orange light. the room was immediately much more warm and welcoming than what’d you first walked into.

you stood at the door, taking a look at the little bits of decoration that you could now see more clearly. a couple figurines, expensive, if you had to guess, a couple books strewn around his coffee table, and a cat tree perched up near the window.

you remembered the small bag in your pocket. digging it out of your pocket, you held it up in between your fingers. “i saw your cat on that one thirst trap,” he didn’t bother protesting—it was a thirst trap, “so i got some treats on the way here. i hope you don’t mind.”

either you were a psychic or you just naturally had a knack for this sort of thing. “they’re her favorite, thanks. take a seat, we don’t bite.”

the previous girls that came over to his apartment usually just gave the cat a little coo or downright ignored her, but you seemed like you wanted to get to know her more than you did him.

suguru wasn't sure if he was amused or if his ego was slightly bruised. (hint: both.)

you took a seat on the black leather couch like you owned the place, patting your lap. “what’s your cat’s name?” you questioned, the cat peering up from her paw at the noise before going back to grooming herself.

“that’s sage.”

you lightly shook the bag of treats, trying to beckon the very uninterested cat with the promise of food and an unconvincing baby voice. your efforts were working. somewhat.

sage lazily trotted her way down from the top of the cat tree before making her way over to you, sitting at your feet. her eyes were calculating, analyzing if you were worth her time. you didn't dare move a muscle when she leaned in to sniff at your socked feet and legs.

just when you were convinced that you'd gotten a big fat F on her evaluation, sage seemed to decide that you were harmless enough. she hopped up on your lap and settled down like the self proclaimed royalty she was, nudging her head against your hand in demand for head pats. you complied.

your fingers ran through the soft black fur while the cat purred like a lawn mower underneath your touch.

"she normally doesn't like strangers," suguru noted, plopping down on the couch cushion next to you.

"do you use that line on everybody that steps foot in here?" well.... yes!

and it usually worked like a charm, thank you very much.

"wait, what, really?" the last girl he'd brought over to his apartment remarked, the very same girl that signed him up for lifelong scientology visits and the army two weeks later after he failed to respond within five minutes, staring at him like he'd hung up the moon and the stars.

"yeah." the cat in question, looked at him with as much disdain as her little body could muster. suguru made a mental promise to reward the cat with catnip and treats for helping him spit out the first bullshit that came to his mind. the girl seemed too happily convinced, going as far as calling herself sage’s step mom.

needless to say, the cat hadn't been all too happy about getting squeezed and cradled around like a baby by a woman she'd never seen before and never saw again after. her displeasure was obvious if the broken flower vases and scratches on his leather furniture were anything to go by.

he'd stopped using that line. or so he thought.

"...no."

you raised a brow, gaze full of suspicion as you stared at him. barely applying any pressure. and just like a rubber band, he ended up snapping within seconds, “…yes, fine, i have. but it’s the first time i’ve meant it.”

you weren't sure if he was full of shit. but the cat seemed to like you decently enough, starting her own biscuit factory on the fabric of your jeans with each ear rub. “how’d you end up getting her?”

suguru looked over to see you and his cat getting along decently well, finding himself a little lost in the scene when your question finally registered and you were staring at him.

“i found her locked up in a cage close to home. her owners called her a devil and all kinds of names, their own negligence, really,” he rolled his eyes, reaching out to pet her chin, “anyways, they were all too happy having someone to hand off the cat to.”

the two of you sat in a comfortable silence after a few questions from one another, getting to know each other a bit better apart from late night conversations. only the sounds of sage’s purring and the outside world filled the apartment.

that was until, "c'mere." suguru lazily spread his legs on the sofa, patting his lap.

“you do realize i’m not your cat right?” as if proving your point, sage got up from her spot on your lap over to his.

“fine, can you please come here?” he gave the cat one last scratch before setting her down on the floor, asking a little nicer. you got up from your spot, standing in between his legs before you lowered yourself onto his lap.

"hi," he murmured once you settled onto his lap, his hands instinctively moving down to your hips.

"hi." you braced your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance, suddenly feeling the reality of the situation crashing down on you. the pretty man underneath you wanted to have sex with you. you were going to have sex tonight.

sex and your first kiss, apparently. (you refused to count the time you'd gotten kissed as a dare in middle school.)

and as if he could read your mind, suguru took a hold of your chin and gently tilted your head up to face him, "can i kiss you?" you didn't miss the way his gaze flickered from your eyes down to your lips every .5 seconds.

you met him halfway, pressing your lips against his own. trying to go with the flow as many people said (what flow? you weren't completely sure yourself).

"close your eyes, i can feel you staring at my soul.” he pulled away, whispering the words against your lips and leaving you chasing behind his.

you let your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the kiss slowly. even going as far as tilting your head a little so you wouldn’t— “ow!” — do exactly what you just did. bump your nose straight into his.

you opened them back up to see suguru was more amused than hurt, a stupid smile on his face as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “try closing them when you’re already leaned in, hm?”

rolling your eyes, you shifted a bit on his lap before giving it one last go. one of your hands came up to cradle his soft cheek, leaning in and shutting your eyes at the last second. he tasted like mint and something else you couldn’t decipher.

his lips molded against your own in a languid kiss, each touch an experiment to know your body better. suguru’s hands moved down your body, each one resting on your ass like he wanted, no needed, you all that much closer. the exchange grew heavier, sloppier, messier.

everything was heightened—you could feel every single little thing. from the slight hitch of his breath when you captured his lip in between your teeth to your own traitorous heart thumping underneath your rib cage.

his lips moved from your own to the corner, down to your jaw, until he finally reached your neck. then that’s where he went ham. sucking, licking, kissing on whatever inch of skin was at his disposal all while taking note which spots had you shivering and squeezing your thighs together.

latching onto the sensitive skin of your collarbone, suguru placed a kiss out of reverence before he started to suck. he was practically in bliss all without taking his clothes off. if he were a weaker man, he would’ve shot his load the minute you’d settled onto his lap and got a whiff of your sweet, sweet perfume.

his hands moved up from your ass up your back, probably going to take your shirt off before his phone got the bright idea to interrupt the moment: want a break from the ads?

suguru had never regretted not investing into spotify premium as much as he did in this moment.

is your girlfriend unsatisfied in the bedroom? your stamina not being what it once was? if these symptoms sound familiar, you might suffering from erectile dysfunction. ask your doctor about levitra—

that was enough to get him up to his feet, crossing over to the kitchen counter in three strides. suguru quickly got his phone from the counter before the ad could continue, deciding that the ambiance was ruined and shutting the music off.

"do these symptoms sound familiar to you?" you teased, resting your cheek on your palm as you watched the scene with mild amusement.

"you could come to my room and find out." not nearly as smooth as he usually was, but good job suguru!

"are you really getting me into your bed with an erectile dysfunction ad?"

suguru tilted his head, "is it working?"

and you really wished it wasn't, but it was. you were quick to get up on your feet, padding over to where he stood and reaching your hand out. "let's go find out then."

his bedroom was much like the living room—a minimalistic design with a couple pictures hung up on the walls. his friends, if you had to guess. he led you over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

not nearly enough bed-pouncing as you were expecting.

suguru spoke up, his hands resting on his lap, "you're allowed to change your mind, don't feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do. i’m here to please you.”

“i want this,” you responded, moving up the bed to rest against the headboard. he followed, keeping a reasonable distance between you two, “i want to have sex with you, suguru. let’s just take it slow.”

closing the distance, you straddled yourself over his lap, each of your legs next to his own. you lowered yourself down and placed your hands on his shoulders under the guise you knew what you were doing. and then, you started to rock and gyrate your hips against his clothed leg.

you rubbed and grinded your hips harder, faster against his leg in an attempt to feel something other than the friction of his sweats rubbing against your shorts—unsure of what to do other than rut yourself against him like a dog. maybe he was liking this?

should you start moaning?

“o-oh fuck.” a, what you hoped was realistic, moan left your lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders to really sell the point. suguru looked at you, wondering if he really looked that stupid.

you weren't sure what you were doing—that much was obvious. you were humping his leg, your rhythm too quick to be pleasurable for either one of you at this point.

"have you ever done this before?" were you really that obvious?

the question had your hips stilling their movement, your gaze falling down to his face. when you shook your head, suguru let out a small tut, holding your chin between his fingers, "that's okay, baby. we'll take it nice and slow, just follow me."

his hands splayed on your hips, slightly moving you up his lap before he started to guide your movements. and oh, now you felt it. his cock strained against the material of his sweats, each ridge rubbing against your warm heat.

well, at least now you knew the ad wasn't meant for him.

"oh yeah, that feels better huh?" he cooed in your ear, his cock twitching in his pants just by feeling how wet you were getting already.

you were dripping, slick stringing and sticking to your panties with each roll of your hips. he wasn’t much better—cock prodding against your entrance like it was begging to be released. “uh huh, better,” a breathy whisper left you, your back arching against his fingertips.

when he kissed you again, it wasn’t soft and gentle like he’d been at first. no, he’d tested the waters already.

now he was kissing you like he needed you, like he needed air to breathe. each breath grew labored like he couldn’t bare being apart. his tongue moved in a synchronized dance with yours, tasting and absorbing everything you had to give.

your lips moved with the same desperation, fingers gripping against the material of his shirt. trying to take it off before he seemed to catch onto your unspoken hint. he reluctantly pulled away before sliding his shirt off in one fluid motion, letting it fall onto the mattress beneath. and… wow. beautiful was an understatement when it came to him.

you let your fingers trail down his abdomen, the muscles tensing underneath your featherlight touch. tracing and poking whatever little beauty marks you found on your way down. he was just so.. pretty.

“you really think so?” his voice brought you out of your reverie, and oh shit, you’d said it out loud?

“like you don’t know it already,” you retorted, trying to downplay the situation.

suguru shrugged, watching your fingers intently as you traced and gently scratched down his pecs, “i like when you call me pretty.”

you rolled your eyes but gave in anyways, “you’re very pretty, suguru geto.” you felt his cock twitch underneath at the compliment. leading his fingers towards the hem of your own shirt, you guided him into taking off the flimsy article. he seemed all too eager to revere your body the same way you had his.

mumbled compliments of you’re so beautiful and so soft left his lips until he looked up at you, his hands gliding up and down your hips, "do you want me to keep going or do you wanna stop here?"

you grabbed his hands, bringing them up to your chest. “i want this, suguru. i want to go all the way with you, i promise.” his fingers tweaked and squeezed at your perked nipples, his lips ghosting above the left before he swirled his tongue around it. latching his mouth onto the sensitive flesh and sucking, working the other with his fingers.

strings of saliva connected his lips to your tits when he finally pulled away—deeming that he’d given them enough attention for now. suguru flipped the two of you over, hovering above you before slowly kissing his way down.

peck. your collarbone.

peck. your tits.

peck. your navel.

peck. the waistband of your shorts.

“you can take it off,” you assured him before he even had the chance to ask the question. suguru didn’t hesitate once he got the thumbs up, hooking his fingers onto your belt loops before sliding your shorts down your legs and shaking them off.

you could’ve sworn you caught a hint of drool once you were all exposed for him.

suguru kissed his way up your leg, each one leaving behind a slippery trail behind him. “so pretty,” he mumbled, sucking onto your calf before moving further up to your knee, “so perfect laid out for me.” each one sounded like a quiet admission to himself.

despite how desperate he seemed, suguru took his time when it came to finally undressing you. his teeth sunk into the lace of your underwear, your hips lifted when he moved down the offending material at the pace of molasses. trying to savor as much as he could.

he let them fall onto the pile of clothes next to you before admiring his meal. your cunt clenched around nothing when a slight breeze came in the room, your slick glistening against your folds, clit practically throbbing his name out in morse code.

but suguru prided himself on having some semblance of patience. thinly veiled patience, but patience nonetheless. he wedged himself in between your legs, his lips hovering dangerously close to your entrance before moving down to your inner thigh. repeating what he'd done earlier on your leg.

he pressed featherlight kiss after another onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, occasionally biting hard enough to leave behind a nice lil' memory for tomorrow. your legs instinctively spread, every sensation sending your body through a livewire and yet.. you were lost in thought.

you wondered how many people he'd had in this room, how long this would take, what'd you eat for breakfast tomorrow, and—"focus on me, pretty girl."

immediately broken out of your endless string of questions, you looked down to see suguru already peering up at you. "talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours?"

you shook your head, "just got lost in thought, i guess."

"then we'll just have to make it to where you can only focus on me, angel."

and then he dove in like he was a man starving.

his big hands gripped your legs and spread you apart like a feast, tongue flicking out to taste the slick dripping down your folds and thighs. "taste so good, thank you, thank you," he babbled, swiping his tongue up and down your folds before flicking it inside of your pussy.

your cunt gushed like an open sink against his mouth and chin, the man practically nose deep as he thrusted his tongue in and out of your sopping pussy. his jaw went slack, sucking and tracing your folds with the tip of his tongue before going back to eating you out.

soon, two of his fingers took place of his mouth. two long and thick fingers. your juices ran down to his knuckles while he spread you open, his fingers curling and hitting that one spot inside of you with ease. "fuck, it feels so good," you whined, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers.

"i knoww baby, just needed suguru to take care of you." he didn't let up, much too starved himself to even think about doing so. his lips latched onto your swollen, throbbing clit and sucked lightly onto the nerves. your grip on his hair tightened, a broken moan leaving from his lips.

"just like that," he hissed out, his hips rutting into the mattress underneath. you noticed a dark patch growing in the front of his sweats. "take what you want from me, y'know how to do it." your hips swiveled and thrusted against his eager mouth, spit and slick drenching his chin and dripping down to the mattress.

it was hard to think about anything other than him, you had to admit that much.

your legs shook with each thrust of his fingers, with each swipe of his tongue. just as you were about to press your legs together, suguru pried them apart once more with ease. "don't interrupt my meal, i'm not done eating." and how could he say that when he already sounded so drunk off you?

his tongue swirled against your clit, the tip drawing circles around the sensitive nub. "f-fuck, gonna cum, keep going," you whined out, nails digging into his scalp. the sound of your pussy gushing around his fingers was all you could hear, and yet, all you were focused on was chasing your own orgasm.

it was so close, you felt a knot building up in your lower tummy. "fu-fuck fuck fuck," broken babbles left your lips, your toes curling and legs shaking the more you felt that pressure increase. with one final thrust of his fingers, you came. the knot unraveled all at once, your release washing over you (and his fingers) like a tidal wave.

he'd never been such at bliss before.

each breath felt like it was splitting your lungs open, your chest heaving as suguru slowly pulled his dripping fingers out of you. he didn't mind staring you in the eye when he put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them off as if no drop could go to waste. "mm, wanna taste you forever." his eyes practically rolled back, his tongue swirling against the two digits.

once you finally regained your bearings, you sat up and asked, "do you want me to return the favor?"

suguru let out an indignant scoff like you'd just insulted his very existence. and in a way, you had. "i did that because i wanted to, because i needed to taste you," he retorted, shaking his head like he wasn't reevaluating his degree in munchology, "not because i was expecting anything out of you."

getting up from your spot on the bed, you padded over to where he was sitting and situated yourself right in between his legs. absentmindedly running your fingers up up up the thin material of his sweats, barely grazing your fingertips against the growing tent between his legs. before you pulled away altogether.

you looked up at him like you were sin incarnate, lashes fluttering against your cheek, "what if i really really want to suck you off?"

suguru swore his soul left his body for a minute. he'd gladly let you keep it if you wanted it at this rate.

“then by all means, go for it.”

that was all you needed to slide the flimsy material of his sweatpants onto the floor, his cock slapping up against his stomach once it was released. now it was your turn to nearly drool. you couldn't have imagined that a dick could be this pretty.

a nice tan color at the base with a hint of red at the tip, a curve settling to the right and precum dripping down his shaft just from having you in his mouth. it was fairly long and thick—as thick as your forearm, you could assume.

all the fanfiction you had saved in your bookmarks couldn't have prepared you for the sight of the twitching cock in front of you.

you stared at his dick like it was something out of an anatomy textbook, trying to figure out the best approach to go about this before ultimately deciding to throw it out the window and just try it out.

"a-ah fuck." suguru practically turned into putty the moment you took him in your mouth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. not pushing, never that; he'd never risk making you uncomfortable.

thick globs of spit dribbled down to your chin and down his shaft from the corners of your lips. "just like that, yeah, please." suguru wasn't afraid to be loud—letting you know what you were doing right. one of your hands wrapped around his cock, your fingers tightening around the base before you started to jerk your hand up and down.

you could hardly take him in fully—your cheeks hollowing out to make more space and it still wasn't nearly enough. "soo good, please don't stop," suguru’s voice drawled out when you tried taking more of his cock in your mouth.

you could feel tears pricking up at the edge of your waterline, blinking them back quickly. his cock was barely a couple inches in your mouth and the tip was already starting to hit your uvula, your saliva coating around the shaft to mix with the precum spurting out. once you were able to, you started bobbing your head up and down his length.

suguru’s fingers dug into the sheets beside him, his chest starting to feel like he’d run a marathon. your tongue, your mouth, just you, everything felt too stimulating, too good. the hand you’d been jerking him off with moved down to his heavy sack, your fingers rolling around his balls.

and just like that, suguru was a goner. he swore he saw the flickering of a white light above. you felt them tighten up underneath your fingertips, growing heavier and heavier with cum. you looked up to see him completely disheveled, mouth agape to let out shaky gasps and broken moans. and right before you swore you almost felt him cum, he pulled you off.

“did i do something wrong?” your question came out innocent, like you hadn’t nearly sucked the soul out of his body.

suguru let out a disbelieving laugh, pulling you up to your feet before feverishly leaning into kiss you. not seeming to care that he could taste himself on your tongue. “just need to cum inside you, can i do that, please? you still want this?”

he sounded completely and utterly ruined. but you nodded into the kiss, your fingers pressing into his shoulders. “i need you, sugu, need you so bad. please fuck me, please.”

he moved at the speed of light, setting you down onto the comfort of his mattress before he settled himself on top of you. his cock throbbed and twitched at the mere contact with your bare pussy, his fingers wrapping around the base as he swiped the tip through your folds. “you sure you want this?”

just one more time to confirm. you nodded.

“c’mon, use your words for me, pretty,” he whispered, rubbing the tip against your swollen lil’ clit. your throat bobbed as you swallowed back an embarrassing moan.

“i want this, suguru, i’m sure.”

"okay, take a deep breath in for me." you complied, filling your lungs with air before letting it out in a deep exhale. he slowly pushed his cock in, your walls tightening and clenching involuntarily against his shaft.

"there we go, that's it baby. takin' me so well." suguru's voice came out akin to a purr he didn't mention how he'd barely pushed an inch in. once he was certain it was okay, he pushed another and another in.

a choked gasp left your lips when he finally seemed to bottom out, feeling like your body had just been split in half. and maybe, just maybe it was, you wouldn’t necessarily doubt it.

suguru wiped away a couple tears that streamed down your cheeks, standing still while you got used to the intrusion. it was hard, he had to admit, when you felt so warm and wet around him. but anything for your comfort, he wouldn’t risk that.

“you can move, suguru,” you spoke up, one of your hands reaching out to take hold of his. his fingers grasped your own, placing your hand on top of your head before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back in one swift motion. your pussy drenched his shaft each time he pushed back in, each thrust smoother and faster.

suguru leaned down to kiss you, hair falling like a waterfall and covering his face completely before he ever got the chance to get close. you bit down on your lip, trying to keep yourself from laughing in his (hair covered) face before reaching out and moving his hair out the way.

so goes the super suave geto suguru.

a small giggle left your lips at the gesture, slowly starting to feel more and more comfortable being around him. (well how much more comfortable could you really get after having him inside you?) suguru let out a small huff, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance before handing over a hair tie.

you managed to make the world’s messiest ponytail in twenty seconds. go you!

“i’m glad my embarrassment’s amusing, but you okay?” he asked quietly, treating you as if you were a delicate piece of glass. long fingers trailed up your sides like he was admiring a piece of art, not at all like the strangers that you were supposed to be.

“i’m fine,” you assured, wiggling your hips and trying to thrust back into him, “you can go faster, though, please?”

suguru didn’t hesitate to follow that command, hips snapping into you almost immediately. your cunt sucked him in with each thrust, squelching with how much you’d drenched his shaft. his heavy balls smacked against your ass TWACK TWACK TWACK!

your legs wrapped around his waist like you were physically trying to intertwine your body as close as you could to him. “ah ah fuck, sugu, faster, faster!” your moans sounded like the best kind of melody to his ears, and well, who was he really to deny?

suguru hoisted a leg up on the bed for a better angle, hitting that spot inside of you with each quick thrust. your walls clenched around him like a vice, like you wanted to keep him trapped while you gushed and soaked around him.

“pussy’s so good, i’m never letting you go,” he babbled, his other hand gripping your hip to move you up and down his shaft as he pleased.

his middle finger rubbed desperate little circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back from just how good you felt. the hair tie was long since forgotten, hair falling onto his face as he leaned forward to capture your lips in what could only be described as a tangle of tongue and teeth.

everything about him screamed desperate and unhinged—and you weren’t any different.

“make me cum, make me cum, please,” you moaned out against his lips, your chest heaving and your breaths coming out in short pants. suguru nodded like it was his only mission in life, pushing his cock in and out sloppier and messier than he was at first. practically gliding with how wet you were.

your orgasm built up more intense this time, your nails digging into the sheets below as the coil in your tummy began tightening. “please please please,” for what were you begging for? you didn’t know. a scream that would probably wake up his neighbors left your lips as you came, dripping and soaking his shaft in your wake.

“so messy, my messy girl, that’s ittt.” he was a broken pussy-drunk babbling mess. suguru continued to rut into you, chasing his own orgasm while working you through your own. his hips moved desperately, balls twacking against you with each sloppy sloppy thrust until he finally choked out,

“w-where do you hic want it?”

you didn’t give it much thought, “my face, sugu. wanna taste you, come for me, need you.” that was all it took for the last bit to snap, barely managing to pull out in time before he was spurting out drops of cum onto your face and your open mouth.

you swallowed every last drop that landed on your tongue, your features contorting into a slight grimace once the taste settled on your taste buds. and just like you'd come out of a damn porno and his wet dreams, you stuck your tongue out.

"fuck, you're gonna kill me." a breathless laugh left his lips. he made sure to push his hair back this time around before he leaned into kiss you again, his tongue prodding into your mouth.

one time fucking awkward and slightly offputting girl pussy and he was ready to get your finger measurements to buy the most expensive ring he could find at the jewelers. maybe he'd start with just a date once he came back to his senses.

suguru plopped down on the mattress next to you, rubbing a drop off cum off your cheek with the pad of his thumb before bringing it up to his own lips. "was that okay? you need anything—water, a bath, your dignity?"

you let out an amused scoff, turning your head to face him. admiring his features in the post sex glow. you had to admit—to yourself mostly—he looked good worn out and panting. "my dignity's still intact, thank you. but some water and a rag would be nice."

he cracked open the water bottle and left it on the nightstand next to you before disappearing into the bathroom. you could briefly hear the sound of water running before he emerged once more, a wet rag in hand.

each swipe of the rag in between your legs was a gentle one, treating you with the utmost care in the world. “you don’t have to leave right away, if you don’t want to. i can make some mean scrambled eggs.”

“how inviting,” you teased, taking a sip of the water as you mulled it over. how bad would it be to stay the night if he’d already been inside of you? “but sure, i’ll stay. if only for the scrambled eggs.”

you weren’t sure how long the two of you spent up talking about nothing and everything in between, from what you did for school to how you got into baking. it was.. refreshing, in a sense.

you could picture yourself doing this kind of routine with him almost too easily. the last thing you remember before succumbing to sleep was his arms wrapped around your stomach.

holding you like he never quite wanted to let go.

loud knocking woke up suguru at ass o'clock in the morning, long before the sun even started to peek its head from the horizon. a groan left his lips as he forced himself to untangle his limbs from your own and get up.

you didn't seem to notice his absence, in fact, you almost seemed to enjoy it. a little too much, if you asked him. you laid in the middle of the bed, sprawling your arms and legs out like a starfish.

the knocking on the door grew more insistent—determined to get an answer one way or another.

"hi, good morning. i'm from the church of scientology." this time they'd sent a middle aged man to stand at his door and spit out the same spiel he'd heard for the past five months in a row, greeting him with a smile that suguru deemed unnatural this early in the morning.

a smile that quickly seemed to fade once the man took notice of the blossoming hickey on his neck, the scratches that ran down his abdomen.

the man grasped his copy of dianetics like he was clutching his pearls.

suguru would have to eat you out later just for this reaction.

the man cleared his throat, eyes averting down to the book in his hands, before he cracked it open to the first page he could find. suguru wondered how long it'd take the man to figure out the book was upside down.

"i'm here because you signed up to receive visits every weekend. for just the small price of ¥73,300, you could learn all about the church and how to reach enlightenment—" the more that the man rambled, the more that suguru was more inclined to start his own cult than join this one.

but regardless, he let the man finish his spiel before he tapped his chin in faux thought. “to join a cult or not to join a cult, decisions decisions…”

the man raised a finger to protest, pushing up the thick rim of his glasses up his nose, "well actually, we're not a cult, we're a religious group focu-"

the man was left rambling to the front door about the difference between a 'religious group' and a 'cult.'

but he relented, suguru had to give him that at least. the man remained at the doorstep, bringing his fist up to the door but never making contact. probably regretting coming over in the first place.

"who was at the door?" you were barely awake yourself, rubbing at your eyes as the bright morning light peered in through the windows.

suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a small groan, "would you believe me if i said scientology?"

"who'd you piss off?" you questioned, standing by the kitchen with your arms folded.

this time, another groan. though he sounded more whiny than anything, “why does everyone always assume i did something?”

"am i wrong though?" you countered.

no, not at all. and suguru knew he wasn’t getting out of this conversation that easily. "come on, i'll tell you over scrambled eggs and those cookies you baked yesterday."

"i promise," he practically moans already pulling one thigh open to fit himself at your entrance. "thank you thank you thank you."

despite having taken him countless times already, you still gasp at the stretch of him pushing inside of you. you wonder if you'll ever get used to it.

he drapes his weight over you once he's buried himself to the hilt and you let out a deep sigh in turn. you can only describe how well he fits inside of you as natural—like every inch of him was moulded to fit your heat without fail.

"see?" he whispers against your jaw, kissing the corner of your mouth before tucking his face back into the crook of your neck. "i could stay like this forever."

and for a little while, he does. he relaxes fully, the only indicator of him still being awake is the sweet hums he lets out as you card your fingers through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp. and, despite his weight on top of you, relaxation takes hold quick, and you find yourself drifting off into the comfortable embrace of slumber.

until he moves, of course. his shoulders tense and his face scrunches up against your neck in obvious frustration.

"don't," you keep your eyes shut beneath him. "don't you dare."

he shifts against you, cock twitching where it’s locked deep inside. "but—"

"choso."

he groans pitifully and lifts his head just enough to look down at you. "i need to move."

"you promised," you crack one eye open to look at the flush decorating his cheeks, visible even in the low light. you try and keep a stern look on your face, but you're already shifting your hips in anticipation. "we need to sleep."

you smile but can't help but tease. "rotation? so you're saying i'm just another roster chick?" maki just snickers and changes the topic. "i hear sukuna's been over your house a lot, how about you go for him. he's sexy, tall, tatted up, drives a motorcycle, older, he's easily available-"

"okay, first, he's always been coming round that's nothing new, second he's a fucking asshole, maki. and my brothers best friend. i'd rather choke on naoya's dick than even touch sukuna."

she trys her best not to laugh on the other end, "wow, and that's saying something... can't tell me you haven't thought about it before though, hate-fucking's a thing."

a pulse ran through your body, sure you'd thought about sukuna from time to time. late at night when it was just you and your thoughts, when you could hear him talking shit with toji from down the hall with that deep voice, but the idea disappeared as soon as it came. you shook the thought out of your head before making up some dumb excuse about needing to go get a drink, leaving maki with her teasing thoughts and a dead line.

.

you don’t even think twice when you pad down the stairs, the hardwood cool against your bare feet, hair messy from the afternoon heat. it’s summer and the sun has been baking the house since dawn, so you’ve been living in tank tops and thin pajama shorts for days now.

your first year at university was finally over. no lectures, no assignments, no responsibilities for six whole weeks. just you, your snacks, and the rare bliss of doing whatever you want, legal or not.

the problem is, you’re never alone in this god damned house. someone's always got an eye out for you and your bad habits.

you catch the sound of voices before you even step off the last stair. low, familiar, very masculine.

one of them is unmistakable, that deep rasp you’ve known your whole life. toji, your brother. he always talks like he’s half-amused by something, dragging his words like they’re heavy. but there’s another voice, one that crawls under your skin the second it hits your ears. smoother, sharper, threaded with something smug, sukuna.

of course he’s here. of course he’s sitting in your living room at 4 p.m. like he owns the place.

he's your next-door neighbor, your brother’s best friend, the permanent shadow hovering around your house throwing insults at you every chance he gets.

your families are so tangled together that you swear the twenty something year old spends more time here than in his own home. your mother thinks it’s sweet. your brother calls him convenient. everyone else calls it “brotherly banter” when he’s got your name in his mouth.

but you know better. you know the tone of voice in a man who's a little more protective than he seems on the surface. whenever you get into trouble or any sort of bad situation, parties until sunrise, smoking with maki, messing around with guys, he'd be scolding you alongside your parents and brother like an annoying pest. like he had a right.

you hesitate for only a second at the bottom step, silently praying you can slip into the pantry unnoticed by the older males. but luck has never been your friend where sukuna is involved.

he’s slouched on the couch, one arm draped lazily along the backrest, posture screaming arrogance. broad shoulders stretching the thin fabric of his black tee, tattoos peeking out from under the sleeve, crawling down the veins of his arm. he's the tallest, most intimidating guy you'd ever seen, and that's saying something considering toji's your brother.

6'6 of pure muscle, tattoos and ego.

he glances up the moment your bare legs come into view, gaze dragging slow and unhurried, as if he has every right to look. and god, he does look. from the thin strap of your tank top slipping down your shoulder to the way your shorts barely cover the tops of your thighs. his mouth curls at the corner, sharp and knowing, a predator’s smirk.

“well, look at this,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement, leaning forward just enough to rest his forearms on his knees. “it's your gross little sister.”

your stomach twists.

you should’ve stayed upstairs.

you should’ve thrown on sweats, should’ve remembered that where there’s toji, sukuna is never far behind.

“shut it,” toji cuts in, tone hard and final. "better not think of doing something sketchy, brat." he doesn’t even look up from the beer he’s cracking open, but the warning is there. protective, sharp-edged. your brother’s always been like that, standing between you and anything he doesn’t trust.

"god, can't i grab something to eat without you assholes bouncing on my tip." you push, chucking the ups at sukuna as you walk closer to the kitchen.

"she's got spunk today, i like it."

"i'll kill you bro, shut up." toji retorted, taking a mouthful of his booze.

sukuna doesn’t seem fazed. if anything, his grin only widens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “relax, just making an observation.” his eyes flick back to you, trapping you in place like you’re pinned beneath a spotlight. “nothing wrong with appreciation.”

“you just called her gross, how is that appreciation, dick head,” toji rolls his eyes with that bored look.

you hate the way your cheeks heat, the way your pulse stutters under that heavy red stare.

everything about him is designed to get under your skin, the way he walks into your house like he belongs, the way he walks into your room like it's his god given right to, the way his comments toe the line between playful and something deeper. and the worst part? everyone else laughs it off, calls it harmless teasing, except toji ofcourse, but he's not the issue.

you clear your throat, forcing your legs to move, heading straight for the pantry as if you can pretend you’re not burning under sukuna’s gaze. you keep your eyes down, grab the first bag of chips you see, anything to keep your hands busy.

but you can still feel him watching.

the bag of chips crinkles in your grip as you make a beeline for the stairs, heart hammering too fast. you tell yourself you’re annoyed, that you can’t stand the way he opens his mouth and makes your skin burn. but as you climb the steps two at a time, you know that’s only half the truth.

once you leave, the living room becomes quiet before toji decides to speak up.

"that little shit gets into enough trouble as it is, ryo. don't need you winding her up n' making her act up any more."

"oh give it a rest, toji. i look out for her too."

~

your room has always been your little sanctuary. four pale walls lined with half-finished collages, shelves sagging under the weight of manga, paperbacks, and dusty trinkets you’ve collected since you were a kid.

it’s messy in the way that feels comfortable to you, clothes in piles on the chair, half-open notebooks scattered across your desk, fairy lights drooping at uneven intervals across your wall. an uncharacteristically perfect room for someone so notorious for acting up.

your bed is your throne though, a mountain of fluffy blankets and mismatched pillows that swallow you whole.

tonight is no different, you’re sprawled out in the nest, propped up on your elbows with your phone lighting up your face.

your tank top is practically glued to you, pajama shorts riding up as you shift against the sheets.

it’s peaceful. almost.

in the back of your mind, you know he’s still lurking around somewhere, loud and careless and infuriating. and worse, when sukuna sleeps over, it means his presence lingers late into the night, infecting every corner of your house. you tell yourself he’ll stick to your brother’s room, maybe crash on the couch with a beer in hand, but you know better.

you know him.

the crash comes first, the slam of your door against the wall, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“what the hell-" you start, pushing yourself upright, phone slipping out of your hand.

and there he is. filling your doorway like he owns the place, shirtless and smug, tattoos sharp like smoke over skin stretched taut with muscle.

he’s barefoot, sweatpants slung low on his hips, and he looks every inch like he just rolled out of bed, but there’s that grin on his face, hard and deliberate, the kind that promises trouble.

“jesus asshole, ever heard of knocking?” you snap, scrambling upright to pull the hem of your shorts lower and the neck of your top higher.

“knocking?” he repeats lazily, voice rough from sleep, dragging across the room as if he’s already bored. “this house is basically mine, sweetheart. no need to knock when i’m home.”

he says it so casually, like he hasn’t just barged into your space uninvited. like this isn’t your room, your private little haven.

you groan and flop back onto your bed. “get out.”

but he doesn’t leave, of course he doesn’t. instead, he wanders deeper into your room like it’s his personal playground, eyes scanning your shelves, desk, bedspread. he’s cataloguing it all, you can tell, waiting to rip you apart for it.

and then he starts touching.

“sukuna- don’t-” your voice pitches higher as he reaches for the first shelf, dragging his fingers across spines of your manga before yanking one free. he flips through it like it’s a brochure, expression blank, before tossing it onto the floor.

“what the fuck is this? you still into kiddie comics?” he drawls, a lazy look yet his eyes scream with something deeper, possession.

“they’re not comics, fuck face,” you bite out, rushing to pick it up before the pages crinkle.

“sure,” he hums, already moving on. he plucks up a tiny snow globe, shaking it violently so the glitter storm inside whirls, then lets it fall back onto the shelf with a dull clink. “real sophisticated taste you’ve got here. does mommy still buy these for you?”

you clench your fists. it’s the same every time, him tearing through your things like they’re nothing, mocking your choices, dragging you back down to the role of little sister he thinks you’ll never escape.

“sorry i don't collect boring cookie cutter bullshit like the hoes you screw. put it down,” you warn through gritted teeth.

he ignores you, grabbing a stuffed keychain and dangling it from one finger before flicking it across the room.

“stop!” you’re off the bed now, rushing over as he reaches higher.

and then he grabs it. the one thing he shouldn’t.

your fragile glass strawberry sculpture. a stupid gift you picked up at a summer market years ago, delicate and tiny, a perfect little red fruit frozen in glass. it’s silly, but it’s yours, and it’s survived moves, fights, and careless hands until now.

“don’t you fucking dare,” you breathe, voice sharp with panic as he holds it up between two fingers.

sukuna’s grin spreads slow and wicked, his red eyes glittering with recognition of just how much this matters. “this ugly little thing?”

“give it.” you step forward, hand outstretched.

“nah,” he says, lifting it higher, well out of reach. at his full height, he towers over you, arm stretched so easily it might as well be suspended from the ceiling.

“i’m not playing with you, sukuna,” you snap, jumping up, fingers brushing his wrist.

“you think i am?” he teases, shifting just enough to keep it away, his grin deepening as you strain. “c’mon, short stack, jump higher.”

your chest burns with fury. you hate this shit.

“you’re a fucking child,” you spit, trying again, nails catching his skin.

and that’s when he moves.

sudden, dominant. his free hand shoots out, grabs your wrist, and in the next breath your back slams against the wall. the fragile strawberry glints in his other hand as he cages you in, his arm braced beside your head, his body close enough that the heat of him makes your skin prickle. lips so close, one wrong move and they'd connect.

your heart stutters, skips, then races.

he leans down, breath ghosting across your cheek. “careful,” he murmurs, almost too soft. “you’re gonna break it.”

your stomach knots. not just from the glass strawberry but from the weight of him, the deliberate trap he’s set.

“get off me,” you whisper-hiss, trying to twist away, but his grip on your wrist tightens, pinning you.

“funny,” he says, voice lowering to a purr. “you never fight this hard when i’m in your space. makes me think you like it.”

“you’re delusional,” you snap, though your voice cracks.

his grin sharpens. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing your gaze to his. “y’know what else makes me think that?” he drawls, his eyes narrowing with dangerous amusement. “that little phone call you had earlier.”

your blood runs cold.

“what?"

“oh, don’t play dumb, pretty,” he cuts you off, thumb brushing the corner of your jaw. “you really think i couldn’t hear you downstairs? house has paper-thin walls. every word about gojo. geto. about me.”

your chest caves in, shame clawing hot and sharp at your throat.

“that’s… that’s not-”

“don’t bother lying,” he says, pressing closer, his voice like a blade. “you said i was an asshole. that you’d rather choke on naoya’s dick than touch me.” his smile doesn’t reach his eyes now. “real sweet of you to say, by the way. i like to hold myself to a higher standard than that woman-hater.”

your heart slams against your ribs. he heard it all. every reckless word you threw at maki, thinking you were safe.

“sukuna, i didn’t-”

“hurts my feelings,” he interrupts, mocking a pout. “here i thought we had something special. all those years of me giving you my attention, my concern, and you talk about me like that?” his gaze held something below the surface, like what he was saying ran deeper than stupid teasing.

you try to yank your wrist free, but he doesn’t budge.

“you’re insane,” you whisper.

he chuckles low, shaking his head like you’ve said something cute. “maybe. but you know what’s worse, honey?” his grin returns, razor-sharp. “if you don’t drop the attitude, i could tell toji everything.”

your breath catches.

“what-”

“about you fucking gojo and geto,” he says, voice dripping with venomous amusement. “how his precious little sister’s nothing but a slut for his old collage friends. can you imagine the look on his face?”

panic spikes through you, stomach plummeting.

“you wouldn’t,”

“wouldn’t i?” he cuts in, tilting his head. “gojo and geto are a lot older than you, sweetheart. toji wouldn't be too happy about that, and you know me. you know i’d enjoy it. watching him lose his shit, maybe kick your boyfriends’ asses, maybe yours too.” there's a different look behind his eyes, one that looks like anger, almost disappointment as he talks about your past with the boys.

“they’re not my boyfriends-”

“doesn’t matter,” he says, leaning in until his mouth is by your ear. “what matters is, he’d never look at you the same.”

your body trembles, fury warring with fear, with the electric charge of being this close to him, trapped under the weight of his dominance.

“so here’s the deal,” sukuna murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “you stop running that pretty mouth. you quit with the bitchy attitude you're always giving me, and maybe, just maybe, I can keep my mouth shut about your little summer escapades.”

your teeth clench, nails digging into your palm.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, grin curling cruelly. “sound fair, brat?”

you don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until the word slips past your lips.

“…okay.”

it comes out small, fragile, like it doesn’t even belong to you.

sukuna’s grin spreads slow, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as if he’d been waiting for that single syllable all along. the kind of grin that says he always wins, because of course he does.

“good girl,” he murmurs, voice low and mocking as he finally eases back. his arm drops from the wall, his grip loosens on your wrist, and suddenly the heavy weight of him pinning you is gone.

for a second, your body sways, disoriented by the space he leaves behind.

then, with infuriating carelessness, he lifts the glass strawberry higher into the light, turns it once in his hand like it’s worthless, and-

"hey! dont!-”

you lunge, but it’s too late. he tosses it behind him with a lazy flick of his wrist, like throwing away a scrap of trash.

you scramble past him, diving across your bed to catch it before it shatters on the hardwood. your hands close around it just in time, heart hammering, chest heaving with relief and rage all tangled together.

“asshole,” you whisper under your breath, clutching the fragile thing to your chest.

“hm?” his deep voice cuts through the silence, sharp as a knife.

you freeze. did he hear you? of course he did. his hearing is sharp as hell, you’ve always known that.

but when you turn your head, he’s already at the door, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, muscles flexing under tattoos. he looks relaxed, almost lazy, like he didn’t just corner you, threaten to ruin your life, and wring a broken promise out of you.

“thought i heard something,” he says lightly, glancing back at you with that smug smirk. “must’ve been a ghost.”

your face burns, but you clamp your mouth shut, refusing to give him another ounce of satisfaction.

he chuckles under his breath, like your silence is an answer all its own, then pads out into the hall without another word. the door swings shut behind him, leaving you alone with nothing but your racing pulse and the strawberry clutched tight in your hands.

for a long moment, you just sit there, knees pulled to your chest, trying to untangle the mess in your head.

you hate him. you hate yourself more for letting your body react the way it does.

your throat tightens. you shove the strawberry back onto the shelf, careful this time, and flop back onto your bed with a groan. the ceiling fan clicks above, steady and useless, but the heat in your chest doesn’t fade.

you tell yourself you’re just angry. that’s all it is.

.

down the hall, sukuna is grinning.

he closes your door behind him with an easy swing, the sound drowned by the low hum of the house. his smirk hasn’t faded, not even as he strolls lazily toward toji’s room, rolling his shoulders like he’s just stretched after a nap.

you’d said okay.

that one little word plays on repeat in his head, each time sweeter, each time bending his grin wider.

you’d folded, just like he knew you would. this was his round about way of trying to make things civil between the two of you. for too long had this constant back and forth been a wrench in his final goal of being on good terms with you, so, forcing you to be 'nice' to him was just the first step in the long run.

he pushes open toji’s door without knocking, slipping inside like it’s second nature. his best friend is sprawled on the bed, phone in hand, looking half-bored and half-irritated.

“took you long enough,” toji mutters, tossing his phone aside. “what, decide to rub one out while you were in the bathroom?”

sukuna snorts, flopping down onto the other end of the bed like he owns the space. “yeah, somethin’ like that.”

toji eyes him, suspicious, but doesn’t press. instead, he grabs a controller off the nightstand and tosses it at sukuna, who catches it with one hand already leaning back against the headboard. the screen glows blue with the fifa menu, music blaring low through the tv speakers.

but before toji hits start, he smirks, leaning back on his elbows. “actually, got a better idea.”

sukuna arches a brow. “yeah?”

“couple girls i’ve been talking to,” toji says casually, like it’s nothing. “they’re down to meet up. thought i’d bring you along. a two man, make a night of it.”

normally, that’s an easy yes. girls are simple, fun, disposable, a guaranteed good time. sukuna never says no to an opportunity like that.

but tonight, his mind stutters.

because when toji says girls, sukuna doesn’t picture nameless faces. he pictures you, pressed up against the wall, eyes wide and furious, lip caught between your pretty teeth.

the way you glared at him. the way you whispered under your breath like it burned your tongue.

his jaw tightens.

“nah,” sukuna says, surprising himself as much as toji. “not feeling it tonight.”

toji frowns. “you? not in the mood for pussy? you sick?”

sukuna scoffs, jabbing a button on the controller. “fuck off. just wanna play fifa.”

toji shrugs, unconcerned. “suit yourself.” he grabs his own controller, starts the match, and within seconds they’re both locked in, banter filling the room.

"hm, by the way, did you see y/n in her room? i'm scared she's snuck out again, doing drugs or whatever the fuck she does when she goes out. heard a rucus before."

sukuna just shrugs. "she's not that out of touch, i mean, the worst thing she's done is sneak out to a few parties, right?"

toji just scoffed. "that's all i tell you about, sure. but bro, that girl is seriously bad news when she's unsupervised. scared she's gonna get herself into some seriously messed up stuff..."

"yeah, tell me about it." his mind shoots back to your phone call with maki, wanting to bang an older guy, your carelessness, the possible dangers such an act could bring for you...

for the rest of the night, sukuna's body plays on autopilot, fingers moving without thought, but his mind keeps slipping back to you. the heat of your room. the way you scrambled for that stupid strawberry like it was worth your life. the sound of your voice cracking.

he knows he’s an asshole, he knows he pushes too far, digs too deep. but that’s the point. he wants to see how far you’ll bend before you break. and tonight, he saw it, just a glimpse. for years he's watched you grow up, do risky shit, fuck risky men at horribly low ages, and it fucks him up. truly.

all he wants is for you to be safe and sound at home with your family, but you clearly had other plans. he saw you as the type who wanted to grow up too fast, too hard. but you in your room, in those pyjamas, looking so at his mercy for a girl so wild...

fuck if it doesn’t make his blood run hot.

he shakes the thought away, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

this isn’t him. he doesn’t linger. doesn’t obsess. doesn’t give a damn about anyone past the moment.

so why the hell is your face burned into the back of his eyelids, even now? after he'd promised himself years ago he would stop fantasising about you?

toji curses beside him, controller rattling as his team misses a shot. sukuna smirks, falling back into the game, letting the noise of fifa drown out the thoughts he doesn’t want to face.

but deep down, beneath the arrogance and the cocky grin, he knows the truth he’ll never admit.

you’ve gotten under his skin.

and that’s a dangerous place for anyone to be, especially someone he can never stop thinking about.

~

"y/n! where the fuck is my razor you little shit!?" your brothers voice booms out thought out the house at a crisp 7.a.m in the morning.

you groan, rub your eyes, and pull yourself out of bed and to your bedroom door to scream back at him. "in the upstairs bathroom!" you yell.

over the sound of the radio in the kitchen and your parents getting ready for work, you hear the loud, over the top groan that toji lets out. you assume he's heading to work, some accounting firm where he somehow does fuck all but gets paid a pretty penny.

you decide to get ready yourself, do somthing nice today as a reward for finishing your first year at uni successfully.

no risky shit, just a clean, honest day out. a nice change of pace.

but the second your brain kicks in, last night comes back to you. sukuna’s weight pinning you to the wall, the way his breath dragged over your ear, the sharp, cruel threat he left you with.

you squeeze your eyes shut. fuck.

you can’t sit here and stew over it. you need air.

so you shower, throw on the prettiest little outfit you own, nice skirt, some stockings, a flattering tank that clings just right, some cute boots, makeup, and perfume that projects. hair done, bag slung over your shoulder.

your plan is simple, go into town, pick up some bits and pieces, and grab yourself a coffee. minimal human contact, just retail therapy and caffeine. easy. low chance of getting into any trouble.

except nothing’s ever easy in this house.

you’re halfway down the stairs when you smell it first, coffee, strong and bitter. then you hear the faint clink of a spoon against ceramic.

your stomach drops.

when you step into the kitchen, there he is. leaning against the counter shirtless, tattoos stretched over broad shoulders and chest, muscles flexing lazily with every move. a mug in one hand, phone in the other, like this is his kitchen and not yours.

he looks up when you walk in. red eyes sweep over you slow, from your sneakers to your glossed lips, and that grin that curls across his face.

“well,” he drawls, voice still rough with sleep. “look who decided to play dress-up this morning.”

you grit your teeth, moving straight for the door. “don’t start.”

he takes a sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim. “just making an observation. you look… different from last night. put a little effort in for once, huh?” his gaze lingers on your legs, smug and knowing. “where you headed, sweetheart?”

“into town,” you answer curtly, shoving your keys into your bag.

“town, huh?” he echoes, like he doesn’t believe you for a second. “dressed like that? lemme guess, you’ve got a little date, maybe with an older guy? one sleazy enough to buy you drugs?”

you stiffen, spinning to glare at him for the reference to your phone call with maki. “no. just shopping and coffee,”

sukuna cocks his head, smirk deepening. “sure. shopping and coffee. sounds like code for dick and illegal shit to me.”

you glare at him and quickly add, "shut up. plus, i'm old enough to buy drugs if i wanted to. i don't need some ancient relic to do it for me."

in usual sukuna fashion, he just rolls his eyes like he doesn't believe a word you say. "yeah right, a dealer wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole, honey. you're too bait."

your pulse jumps, but you remember his words from last night, the trap he set. no attitude. no lip.

so you clamp up down on the sharp reply on your tongue, force your voice flat. “believe what you want.”

then you’re out the door before you can betray yourself.

behind you, sukuna exhales a laugh that doesn't sound very amused, shaking his head as he tips back the rest of his coffee. deep down, the second you clicked the door shut, his brain flew into panic mode stressing all of the fucked up shit you could be getting into alone.

.

the city is busy, buzzing with the weekend crowd. you weave through clusters of shoppers and couples, duck into the bookstore, and spend way too long scanning the manga shelves until your arms are full.

your reward for surviving the week is a nice expensive coffee.

you head toward your favorite cafe, already tasting the cafine on your tongue. but the second you spot the familiar sign, your steps falter.

because sitting right there at an outdoor table, sipping his drink like something out of a glossy ad, is suguru geto.

black hair tied back in that lazy half-up style, dark eyes sharp even in the morning light. his shoulders broad, his posture relaxed.

he looks good, better than good.

and you can already feel the heat of memories rising. his mouth hot against your neck last summer, his voice low and commanding when he told you exactly how to move for him.

fuck.

you turn on your heel, ready to walk the other way, when a familiar voice slices through the noise.

“no way! y/n?” you freeze.

gojo satoru is striding toward you, white hair a mess, sunglasses perched on his head, a grin that could disarm anyone. tall, lean, built like a muscular ballerina.

and just like that, you’re trapped. just when you were about to finish up a problem-free day.

“well, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” he says, looping an arm around your shoulder before you can protest. “what are the odds, huh?”

“…unlucky, that's what,” you mutter, but he doesn’t hear. or maybe he pretends not to.

before you can blink, you’re being ushered toward the table, dropped right into the seat across from geto, who smiles slow and easy when your eyes meet.

“been a while,” he says, voice deep, smooth as honey.

you’re suddenly seventeen again, pressed between them in the backseat of gojo’s car, their hands everywhere, mouths hot against your skin. your thighs press together under the table, heat rising to your cheeks.

“yeah,” you mumble, clutching your bag like a lifeline..

it’s awkward, painfully so. your cheeks burn as you grip your iced coffee, trying not to think about the nights you spent tangled up with them. first separately, then together. the memory flickers unbidden, gojo’s laugh against your skin, geto’s steady hands, the way they’d pushed boundaries you didn’t even know you had.

they’re older, just like sukuna and toji, maybe a year or two younger, but still men in a way that leaves you feeling young, inexperienced, even when you’ve already proven otherwise.

and they know it.

and they use that power.

“you look incredible,” geto says easily, eyes lingering.

“better than incredible,” gojo cuts in, leaning forward on his elbows. “we were just saying the other day how much weve missed you.”

you swallow hard. “miss me?”

“yeah,” gojo says, grin softening into something hungrier. “miss this pretty face. miss how much fun we all had.”

your thighs press together under the table, heat rushing through you before you can stop it.

geto smirks, low and subtle. “you should come by our place, pretty. come visit. we’d make it well worth your time.”

your heart pounds. you want to laugh it off, deflect, but the way they’re both looking at you, hungry, appreciative, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, makes it impossible to breathe.

gojo tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to memorize every detail. “god, you really did grow up, huh? all pretty and put-together now. makes me wonder what else you’ve been hiding from us.” his voice drops, just enough for you to feel the weight of it in your stomach.

geto’s gaze slides down the curve of your body, slow and deliberate. “not hiding. she’s just being wasted on the wrong people.” his eyes flick up to yours, calm and devastating. “we wouldn’t waste you, baby. need some older guys to set you right?”

heat prickles across your chest. your fingers tighten around the condensation-slick cup.

gojo laughs, leaning closer, elbows on the table so his face is inches from yours. “don’t look so shy. we know you much better than that.”

“satoru,” you hiss under your breath, but he only grins wider, shameless as he slips a hand over your trembling thighs.

“what? it’s true. you were wild. couldn’t get enough of the both of us. remember?” he gestures vaguely, like he doesn’t need to specify because you know exactly what he’s talking about.

and you do. the car windows fogged up, geto’s voice in your ear telling you to be good, gojo laughing while his fingers dug into your thighs.

you want the floor to swallow you whole.

geto leans back, calm where gojo is reckless, but his words cut sharper. “don’t pretend you’ve forgotten. we haven’t.”

you suck in a breath, trying to find some anchor, some excuse to leave, but they don’t let up.

“you’re even prettier now,” gojo adds, eyes flicking to your mouth. “dangerously pretty. we were idiots to let you slip away.”

“we should fix that,” geto says, his tone deceptively casual. “no reason we can’t pick up where we left off.”

you shouldn’t be here. not with them. not when sukuna’s threat from last night is still ringing in your ears.

but then, like some cruel twist of fate, you hear it.

the low growl of an engine.

your heart sinks before you even look up.

because parked across the street, astride his black motorcycle, helmet under one arm, is sukuna.

he’s staring right at you.

the world tilts.

he takes his time, swinging one long leg over the bike, setting his helmet down on the seat. then he walks toward the shop, every step confident, predatory. he knows exactly what he’s doing.

gojo and geto don’t even notice until his shadow falls across the table.

“yo,” sukuna greets, voice low, that dangerous grin plastered on his face.

gojo’s head snaps up, then breaks into a wide grin. “no fucking way, ryomen?”

they clasp hands, pulling each other into a dap up like old friends.

“it's been a while,” geto says, standing to clasp his hand too.

“mm, haven't seen you two in a bit,” sukuna hums, leaning against the table like he belongs there.

and then his gaze slides to you.

you sit frozen, heart pounding, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

“small world,” sukuna drawls, tilting his head. “you three know each other?”

the silence is suffocating. you want to scream at them not to say it, not to ruin you infront of him despite him already knowing, not to hand sukuna the ammunition he’s begging for.

gojo opens his big mouth first. “yeah, we-”

“mutual friends,” geto cuts in smoothly, voice calm, expression unreadable. “ran into each other a couple times.”

sukuna’s eyes narrow. he knows. of course he knows, he told you he knew. but he just smirks, lips curling like a blade. all he wanted was to put these guys heads through the wall, but that would frighten you.

“that so?” he says softly, eyes never leaving yours. “funny. you’d think i’d have heard about that.”

your throat locks.

gojo shifts in his seat, oblivious, but geto holds firm, his lie clean, practiced. “guess it slipped through the cracks.”

sukuna chuckles, low and dark, then pushes off the table. “huh. guess so.”

his smirk lingers as he turns away, but you can feel the weight of his gaze still pinned on you, like he’s already plotting what to do next.

he lets it hang there, brushing it off with the kind of nonchalance that makes your skin crawl. but his eyes, when they flick to you again, burn.

you know he's internally laughing at the lie.

and worse, you know he’s storing this away.

he pulls out his phone and pretends to read a quick message. “looks like your brother’s got timing,” he says suddenly, sliding his phone away into his pocket. “toji just texted. says to bring you home.”

your heart plummets. “what? he doesn't even know i'm-”

“shoosh.” sukuna straightens, already moving toward you. “c’mon, let’s go.”

“hold on-”

but gojo interrupts, frowning behind his sunglasses. “already? we were just catching up.”

“yeah,” geto adds, expression a shade colder, though his tone is still smooth. “huh, what bad timing,”

sukuna shrugs, not even pretending to be sorry. “sorry boys, orders from the top.”

you look between them helplessly, but gojo’s grin softens a little, like he’s trying to reassure you. “guess we’ll have to steal her another time.”

geto leans back in his chair, eyes fixed on you. “you should give us a call when you’re home, y/n.” it’s not a suggestion.

“yeah,” gojo echoes, flashing you a wink. “can't wait for our next encounter."

before you can respond, sukuna’s hand clamps around your arm. firm. possessive. his touch burns through the thin fabric of your sleeve as he hauls you up.

“later,” he tosses over his shoulder to the boys, already dragging you toward the street.

“hey- sukuna!” you hiss, stumbling to keep up. “what the fuck-”

but he doesn’t answer. doesn’t even look at you. he just shoves a helmet into your hands when you reach his bike, jaw clenched, eyes dark.

the air around him is heavy, buzzing with anger. not the lazy, taunting sukuna from earlier. not even the cocky, smug bastard who walked into the café like he owned it. this is something else. something dangerous.

your stomach knots and you hesitate. sukuna when he’s smug, when he’s cocky, you can handle. sukuna when he’s angry? not so much. you’ve seen what he does when he’s pissed off, holes punched in walls, bottles shattered against your kitchen floors when he's mad at your brother. the thought of all that energy turned on you makes your pulse spike.

so, you don’t argue. you slip the helmet on, hands shaking, and climb onto the back of the bike.

he doesn’t wait. the engine roars, and then you’re flying down the street, clutching his back for dear life as he weaves through traffic, faster, faster, until your lungs are tight and your eyes sting behind the visor.

but when you finally reach your neighborhood, he doesn’t pull into your driveway. he slows just enough to swing into his instead, killing the engine with a sharp twist.

confused, you yank the helmet off as you climb off the bike. “why the hell are we at your house?”

“inside,” he cuts you off, tossing his own helmet onto the seat.

you stare at him, anger bubbling through your fear. “no. you don’t get to just drag me out of there, ruin my morning, and then not even take me home. what the fuck is wrong with you?”

he turns to you then, slow, deliberate, his eyes blazing.

“get the fuck inside,” he repeats, low and dangerous.

“sukuna-”

he sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, then leans down so his mouth is right by your ear. “get inside, brat. or i’ll tell toji every little detail about last summer. every. single. one.”

your breath catches.

he straightens, watching your face crumble, the victory already written in his smirk.

your legs move before your brain catches up, carrying you up his porch steps and through the door.

you whirl on him, voice sharp. “why are you doing this? what is your problem?!”

sukuna leans back against the door, arms folded, eyes boring into you.

“you really don’t get it, do you?”

“no, i don’t!” you shout. “you barge in, ruin my morning, drag me here like some caveman, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

his laugh is humorless, bitter. “what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you?”

“excuse me?”

he pushes off the door, crossing the space in two long strides. his size dwarfs you, tattoos shifting as his arms flex, voice rising.

“you think you’re grown, huh? think you can dress up all pretty, go prancing around town, hang around guys who are almost four years older than you like it’s nothing?” his face twists, fury sharp. “you’re fucking naive.”

your chest tightens. “i didn’t even mean-”

“don’t lie to me.” he roars, slamming his hand against the wall beside your head. you flinch, breath catching. his eyes are wild, mouth twisted in a snarl.

“i saw the way they were looking at you. i know the shit they’ve done to you. you think those sleezy bastards give a fuck about you? they don’t. they just want what’s between your legs.”

your chest heaves. “they just happened to be there! i didn’t-”

“bullshit!” he slams his hand against the wall beside your head, the sound making you flinch. “you’re too fucking young, that’s your problem. you think they want you for you? wake the fuck up."

your throat tightens. his words slice through you, cruel and raw.

“you think it’s fine, don’t you?” he presses, voice rising. “letting twenty-one-year-old men fuck you when you were so young? you think that’s normal?” his tone is full of disgust, but you pick up on the undertones, and they sound a lot like jealousy.

“no! it’s fucked,” he bites out, jaw tight. “it’s so fucking messed up. do you even realize what you let happen? or are you too busy pretending it makes you grown?”

you shake your head, tears threatening, but he doesn’t relent.

his hand grips your chin suddenly, forcing you to look at him. his eyes blaze, red and unyielding.

your eyes sting. “stop-”

“no, shut up and listen for once,” he growls, grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze up to his. “you wanna play adult? fine. then act like one. stop being so goddamn reckless. stop letting creeps twice your size use you up and trade you around like pokémon cards. take care of yourself.” he pauses, his eyes shifting.

“because if you don’t, someone else is gonna make that choice for you. and trust me, you won’t like it.”

your breath shudders out of you, chest tight, caught between shame, fear, and something else you don’t dare name.

this isn’t the teasing, cocky sukuna who always gets under your skin. this is something rawer, angrier, protective in a way that twists your insides.

you glare up at him, heat rising in your throat. “why?”

he blinks. “what?”

“why the hell do you care so much about me, sukuna?” your voice cracks, equal parts fury and desperation. “you act like i’m your fucking responsibility. like you get to control where i go, who i talk to. why do you even give a shit? you're just some stupid guy who follows my brother around!”

for the first time tonight, he falters. just for a second. then his jaw locks tight, expression dark.

“because i care about your safety,” he growls. “because it made my fucking skin crawl when i heard you on the phone talking about how you let those idiots fuck you, bragging about wanting older guys like it was nothing.”

your eyes widen. “god can you just drop it-”

“no! no, i can't,” he cuts you off, voice sharp as glass. “you think i enjoyed listening to that? you think i liked picturing those two bastards putting their hands on you?” his lip curls, disgust twisting his features. “you’re a fucking kid, y/n.”

rage spikes through you, wiping away the sting of shame. “a kid?” you spit, shoving at his chest. “you don’t get to call me that, not when you’re dragging me into your house like you own me, pinning me against walls, getting all up in my space like you’re about to take advantage of me yourself.”

his nostrils flare, muscles going taut.

“what’s the difference, huh?” you press, voice rising. “you’re older than gojo and geto. you treat me like your toy just as much as they did. tell me, how are you any different?”

for a moment, silence.

then he explodes.

“don’t you dare compare me to them,” he snarls, slamming his palm against the wall beside your head for the nth time, the sound reverberating through the house. you flinch, but his eyes are locked on yours, burning.

“i wouldn’t use you up and toss you aside like they did. i wouldn’t leave you fucked out and broken just to move on to the next piece of ass.” his voice cracks with rage, raw and unfiltered. “i’ve known you for years. i’ve been there, watching, worrying, while you pulled your ridiculous little stunts. i give a fuck about you even when you think i don’t.”

his chest rises and falls hard, like every word is ripped from him.

your lips part, stunned.

“do you have any idea what it felt like,” he presses, quieter now, but no less vicious, “knowing you were within arms reach, so close yet you still managed to get yourself into a situation like that without anyone knowing, you let those sick fucks touch you, they took advantage of you while you were too naive to see it, and it makes me sick that i was one door away from stopping it.”

you swallow hard, throat tight.

he leans closer, so close you can see every fleck of red in his eyes, every tense line in his jaw.

“i’d rather burn this whole fucking city down than see you let someone like them use you again.”

the room is silent except for your uneven breaths, his towering figure caging you in, his fury crashing against your own.

and then you laugh. soft, broken.

“you really think you’re any better?” your voice trembles, but you keep your chin high. “you walk into my space, throw my shit around, talk to me like i’m worthless. you make me feel small every other day. you don’t care about me, sukuna, you just like having power over me.”

his eyes flash.

“power?” he bites out.

you push on, reckless. “you’re obsessed with controlling me. admit it. you don’t want me safe, you want me scared. you want me to need you.”

his hand shoots out, gripping your jaw tight enough to sting. your breath hitches, but you refuse to look away.

“you think that’s what this is?” he hisses. “me wanting control? me getting off on scaring you?” his thumb digs into your chin, holding you still. “if that’s what i wanted, i’d have taken you already. i’d have ruined you years ago. and don’t fucking lie, you know i could of.”

your pulse slams against your throat. his words coil hot and dark inside you, terrifying and intoxicating all at once.

his grip eases, but he doesn’t pull back. his voice drops, low and guttural.

“the difference between me and them? i give a shit what happens to you. i’ve been there every time you fucked up, even when you hated me for it. those clowns just wanted to stick their dicks in you and leave, i'm gonna be here forever.”

you can’t speak. your body trembles, pressed tight to the wall, every nerve ending alive.

and then his eyes soften. barely. but it’s enough.

“you drive me insane,” he mutters, words spilling before he can stop them. “if you knew how long i spent thinking of you, worrying. i’d never let anyone fuck you over like that again, not those fuckwits, not even myself.”

your breath catches. something shifts in your chest, sharp and terrifying.

you shouldn’t understand him. you shouldn’t feel the way you do now, heat curling low in your stomach, shame and longing tangled together.

but you do.

because beneath all the insults, the threats, the control, you’ve always felt the difference. sukuna never looked at you the way other guys did. not like prey. not like a quick fuck. his attention was heavier, more dangerous.

you hate it. you crave it.

your lips part, words slipping out before you can stop them. “maybe i don’t want you to hold back.”

his eyes darken instantly.

for a moment, you’re both still. your breaths tangled, heat between you palpable, magnetic. his face inches from yours, so close you can taste his air, feel the brush of his skin.

he tilts his head, gaze flicking down to your mouth. your heart stops as his lips brush yours for no longer than a second.

the world narrows to the space between you.

and then- he pulls back.

his hand drops from your face, his body turning away like the nearness burned him.

you sag against the wall, chest hollow.

he runs a hand over his face, muttering a curse under his breath. his fists clench, then unclench.

“this is fucked,” he growls.

your throat tightens. “sukuna i-”

“don’t,” he snaps, but softer than before. his eyes flick back to you, conflicted, stormy. “just… don’t.”

silence stretches. your pulse still thrums, the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin.

finally, he exhales. heavy. “we can’t… i can’t.”

your heart aches, but you nod.

there’s no truce, not exactly. but there’s something. an understanding. an acknowledgment of the dangerous line you’ve both been toeing.

he moves toward the door, shoulders stiff, pausing only once. “you can go, just- dont get into anymore shit. and don’t make me regret telling you any of this.”

and then he’s gone, leaving you against the wall, reeling.

~

night comes way too slowly, toji's still at work as your parents blast some late night tv drama downstairs, and you're lying halfway off the side of your bed with your phone screen pressed to your ear.

“so… let me get this straight.” maki’s voice comes through, low and dry. “you went to a café. bumped into gojo and geto-”

“by accident,” you add, cutting her off.

“sure. and then sukuna shows up out of nowhere, drags you out like some caveman, takes you to his house, screams at you for being… what? naive?”

you groan, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead. “don’t say it like that, it sounds worse when you-”

“and then,” she plows on, completely ignoring you, “you two almost kissed?”

“oh my god, maki.” you bury your face into the pillow, voice muffled. “can you not?”

there’s a pause, then a laugh bursts through the speaker, loud and sharp. maki’s laugh is never pretty; it’s always mean, like she’s pointing at you through the phone. “holy shit, you’re serious. sukuna actually almost kissed you. your brother’s scary-ass best friend. the guy who makes a sport out of tormenting you every time he’s over.”

you sit up, clutching the phone tighter. “he didn’t! not really. it was just, like... a moment. i don’t even know what it was. he got all pissed at me, yelling about how i’m reckless and i need to act like an adult, and then he…” your voice falters. “…he said all this deep shit, maki. stuff i didn’t think he cared about. like he actually gave a fuck.”

for once, maki doesn’t immediately bite back. you hear her exhale, the faint rustle of her sheets. “sounds like he cares a little too much.”

your stomach flips. “don’t say that.”

“why not? you’ve been whining about him for years, and now the second he gets real with you, you’re suddenly shy? please.”

you flop onto your back again, glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not like that. he’s- he’s toji’s best friend. he’s older. he’s…”

“hot?” maki supplies flatly.

heat crawls up your neck. “i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t have to. you should’ve heard your voice just now. god, you sound like every dumb girl with a crush.” she snorts. “this is hilarious.”

you groan, shoving your pillow over your face. “i’m so screwed.”

“no, you’re not.” maki’s tone shifts, not softer exactly, but steadier. “look. sukuna’s an asshole, i’ll give you that. but he’s not gojo or geto. he’s not gonna sweet-talk you, fuck you, and then vanish. if he wanted that, he would’ve done it already. hell, you’ve basically been bait dangling in front of him for years, and he hasn’t touched you. that’s… saying something.”

you peek out from under the pillow. “…he said something like that too.”

“see? told you. maybe he was waiting for you to stop being jailbait, now you're grown? he's taking his chance.”

“but he’s so…” you trail off, words stuck in your throat. how do you explain the way his anger felt less like rage and more like panic? how his words, cruel as they were, carried something heavier beneath them? how his almost-kiss felt less like a mistake and more like the edge of something inevitable?

“…so what?” maki presses.

“intense,” you whisper. “it’s like, he makes me feel so small, and i hate it, but at the same time… i don’t. like, i can’t stop thinking about it. about him.”

silence. then another laugh, this one slower, more knowing. “oh my god. you actually like him.”

you jolt. “i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” she’s smug as hell, you can hear it. “listen to yourself. you’re crushing hard. on sukuna. and honestly? i say go for it.”

your eyes widen. “are you insane? toji would kill me. he’d kill him. my parents-”

“who cares?” maki cuts in. “when have you ever cared about rules before? besides, if sukuna wanted to just use you, he would’ve. and he didn’t. instead, he’s yelling about your safety and trying not to kiss you. that’s not on some casual shit. that’s him being hung up on you.”

your heart stutters. you roll onto your side, curling into yourself. “…you really think so?”

“i know so,” she says simply. “and if you’re crushing this hard already, you’re not gonna shake it. so either you own it, or you keep denying it until it eats you alive.”

you bite your lip, staring at the dark corner of your room. owning it feels terrifying. but denying it feels impossible. sukuna’s face keeps flashing behind your eyelids, the fire in his eyes, the grip of his hand on your jaw, the ghost of his lips against yours.

“shit,” you whisper, more to yourself than her. “i think i really like him.”

maki hums, satisfied. “good. about time you admitted it.”

you groan into your pillow again, but this time, the sound is half-laugh. “you’re the worst.”

“i know,” she says, smug. “but at least i’m right.”

~

the weeks that follow are nothing short of torture.

not the kind you’re used to, though. not sukuna’s constant barbs thrown across the living room, the digs at your clothes or the way you roll your eyes, the lazy, sharp grins when he pushes you just far enough to rile you up. no, this is different. this is silence.

at first, you think maybe he’s planning something. a long game. a new way to drive you insane. but the longer it goes on, the more obvious it becomes: sukuna’s avoiding you.

he doesn’t tease. doesn’t smirk. doesn’t even look at you the way he used to, that infuriating glint in his eyes like he knows every single thing you’re too afraid to say out loud. now, when you walk into a room, he just stiffens. looks away. sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll catch the faintest pink at his ears before he hides it with a scowl.

and you hate it.

sukuna’s whole presence has always been overwhelming. loud, cocky, sharp edges cutting into everything he touches. but without it, without him pressing your buttons at every turn, the house feels… wrong. too quiet. too still.

he still comes over, of course. he and toji are glued at the hip, always have been. you hear his laugh from the kitchen, deep and grating, when he’s with your brother. he jokes easily with your parents. it’s only you he can’t seem to deal with.

and the worst part? you know why.

he thinks he’s doing the right thing. you can see it in the way he keeps his distance, like being near you is dangerous. like one more step closer and he’ll lose whatever fragile control he’s clawed together since that night in his house.

what you don’t see, what you can’t see, is the war raging in his head.

.

in sukuna’s mind, it’s simple, he fucked up.

he shouldn’t have let himself get that close. shouldn’t have let the heat of the moment, your wide eyes and sharp words, push him into something reckless. he should’ve shut it down before it started. should’ve kept the walls up like he always has.

you’re his best friend’s little sister, you're only 18. five or so years younger. too young for him to even think about this shit with.

and yet, he can’t stop.

it’s like the more he tells himself no, the worse it gets. his brain replays every second of that day on a loop. the way your breath hitched when he grabbed your jaw. the sting in your voice when you demanded to know why he cared. the almost-kiss he still feels burning on his lips even though it never happened.

he hates himself for it. he’s always been selfish, sure, but not like this. not with you.

so he avoids. he keeps his distance, forces himself to act normal. it’s hell, but it’s safer.

because if he lets himself slip. if he gives in, even once, he knows he won’t stop.

.

you notice it worse at night. when the house settles, when everyone else is too busy or too tired to notice how weird things have gotten.

like tonight.

toji’s mindlessly playing video games, your parents in their room downstairs. sukuna’s staying over, stretched out on the couch, the flicker of the tv lighting his tattoos. you can see him from the hallway, broad shoulders slouched, one hand rubbing at his face like he’s tired but won’t admit it.

normally, you’d poke at him. steal the blanket just to watch him snap at you. but now? he doesn’t even glance up when you walk by.

your jaw tightens. enough is enough.

you wait. patient. biding your time. and when you hear the floor creak, the sound of him heading toward the bathroom, you move.

your room’s right beside it, the timing perfect. you slip out, grab his wrist before he can even register it, and yank.

“the fuck-”

the door shuts. the lock clicks. the light stays off.

you’ve got him cornered in the dark.

“what the hell, brat?” his voice is low, sharp. defensive.

you stand your ground, pressing your back to the door. “why won’t you talk to me?”

he scoffs, but it’s shaky. “jesus. you’re insane.”

“don’t do that.” your voice cuts, firmer than you feel. “don’t brush me off. you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. you won’t even look at me anymore.”

“good,” he snaps. “maybe you’ll get the hint.”

your chest tightens. “what hint?”

“that this,” he growls, gesturing vaguely between you, “whatever the fuck you think is happening, can’t. it’s wrong.”

the words hit like a slap.

“wrong?” you whisper.

he exhales hard, dragging a hand over his face. “you’re my best friend’s little sister. you’re- fuck, you’re too young. i can’t,” he breaks off, jaw clenched.

“bullshit.” you push off the door, stepping closer until you can just make out the faint outline of his frame in the dark. “that’s bullshit, sukuna. you’ve never cared about what’s right or wrong a day in your life.”

he laughs, humorless. “yeah, well, i do now.”

“why?” you challenge, closing the gap between you. “why do you care so much? you can’t just act like nothing happened and then shut me out. we’re close, sukuna. we’ve always been close. so talk to me. tell me what the fuck changed.”

his silence is deafening. you can almost hear his thoughts tearing him apart, the push and pull inside his head.

he wants you. god, he wants you so badly it makes him sick. every inch of him screams to grab you, to press you up against the sink and take what he’s been denying himself for weeks. but the other half? the half that knows how dangerous this is, holds him back.

“drop it,” he says, voice low, frayed like rope pulled to breaking.

“no.” your chin lifts, defiance burning in your chest. “i’m not letting you ignore me. not after everything you said.”

“y/n-”

“no, sukuna!” your voice cracks, too loud, bouncing against the bathroom walls. “you don’t get to yell at me about my choices, act like you care so much, and then pretend i don’t exist. that’s not fair. i deserve to know why.”

the snap is instant.

he moves like a storm breaking, sudden, unstoppable. two strides and he’s on you, palm clamping over your mouth, your back hitting the cold porcelain of the sink. the edge digs into your hips, the sharp sting grounding you in the middle of the chaos.

his body crowds yours, heat radiating, tattoos flickering in the faint strip of light under the door.

“shut. up.” the words rasp out, guttural, his breath hot against your ear. “you don’t get it. you don’t fucking get it.”

your pulse slams against his hand. the air’s thick, suffocating, but it’s not fear that roots you in place, it’s him. the strength in his grip, the tremor in his voice. intoxicating.

his forehead drops to yours, close enough that you can feel the scrape of his breath on your lips. his hand still silences your protest, fingers splayed firm across your jaw.

“you think i don’t want this?” he growls, barely more than a whisper, like the confession itself could ruin him. “you think i don’t want you?”

your eyes widen, muffled sound catching under his palm.

“i do,” he spits, ragged, broken. “so fucking bad it’s killing me. you’re in my head every damn second. i can’t fucking sleep without seeing you. i can’t sit in your house without wanting to drag you somewhere dark like this and-” he cuts himself off, sucking in a shuddered breath, the restraint rattling his frame.

his thumb twitches against your cheek, like it aches to stroke instead of restrain.

“you’re all i can fucking think about, y/n.” the words drip with hunger, and for a second, you swear he’s going to break. his eyes flick to your mouth, linger there, heavy and dangerous.

your knees weaken, but his body pins you upright.

“then why,” your muffled voice fights against his hand, desperate, trembling.

he rips it away like it burns him.

“because i can’t have you,” he bites out, staggering back half a step, fists curling at his sides. his chest heaves, muscles taut, like it takes every ounce of him not to reach back for you.

“why not?” you demand, the words tumbling out sharp, urgent. “why the hell not, sukuna? if you want me, then-”

“because it’s wrong!” he explodes, cutting you off. his voice cracks like thunder, raw and brutal. “you’re toji’s little sister. you’re eighteen. you’re- you’re fucking off-limits, y/n. don’t you get that?”

the words crash over you like glass, cutting deep.

“off-limits?” your voice wavers. “so i’m just, what? a kid to you?”

his laugh is hollow, humorless, twisted with pain. “no. that’s the fucking problem. you’re not a kid to me. not anymore.”

the admission hangs in the air, thick and heavy.

you step forward, reckless, fire blazing in your chest. “then stop acting like it. stop pushing me away like i don’t matter. i’m not a child, sukuna. i know what i want.”

his jaw clenches, muscles jumping. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“i do.” your voice is firm, even as your insides shake. “i want you.”

the room tilts. he stares at you like you’ve torn him open, like every piece of him is fighting to hold back.

his hand shoots out, gripping the edge of the sink behind you, caging you in without touching you. his face is inches from yours, teeth gritted, eyes burning.

“you don’t get it,” he rasps. “if i have you, even once, i won’t stop. i won’t let you go. i’ll ruin you, y/n. you think you’re ready for that? you think you’re ready for me?”

the words should scare you, but they don’t. they ignite something deep, dangerous.

your lips part, trembling. “try me.”

he sucks in a breath, ragged, his forehead dropping to yours again. for a heartbeat, everything tilts, the air, the silence, the unbearable closeness. his lips hover a breath away, the heat of him burning against your skin.

you close your eyes. waiting. begging.

but it doesn’t come.

instead, his voice drops, guttural and wrecked.

“no.”

your eyes snap open. his stare cuts you clean in half.

“i can’t.” the words are shards, each one slicing deep. “i can’t give you what you want. not now. not ever. this-” his voice fractures, but he forces it steady. “this ends here.”

your throat tightens, the ache crawling up until it burns your eyes. “sukuna-”

“don’t.” he steps back fully, ripping the heat of his body away from yours. the cold rushes in where he stood, suffocating. “don’t make this harder than it already is. i said no. and that’s final.”

the finality in his tone is devastating. like a door slamming shut. like a blade twisting.

“so what now?” your voice is barely a whisper. “you just ignore me? pretend none of this ever happened?”

his jaw ticks, his eyes hard. “yeah. exactly that.”

the cruelty of it knocks the air from your lungs.

“sukuna!”

“enough.” his voice cracks, but the word lands like a gunshot. “you need to drop this. for both our sakes.”

the silence after is brutal.

then his hand, trembling, drops away completely. he spins, shoving the lock open with a snap. the door creaks, light spilling into the suffocating dark.

and just like that, he’s gone.

the door clicks shut behind him, his shadow disappearing down the hall, leaving you stranded.

your chest heaves, the echo of his words clawing through your ribs.

you grip the sink so tight your knuckles ache, the porcelain biting into your palms.

he said he wanted you. admitted you were all he thought about. and then he cut you down with a finality that left you gutted.

alone.

rejected.

if he won’t look at you, then fuck it. you’ll find someone else who will.

~

your spiral starts slow.

a party here, a risky blunt there. late nights you know you shouldn’t be out, people you know you shouldn’t be with. you’ve always had a rebellious streak, but this time it’s different. this time, you’re not just looking for fun, you’re looking to numb.

and the first time toji catches wind of it, he’s pissed.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls, arms crossed as he stands in your doorway. “sneaking out in the middle of the night? going to parties with people you don’t even know? are you trying to get yourself killed?”

you roll your eyes, throwing yourself back on your bed. “jesus, toji, i’m not a kid anymore. stop acting like i am.”

“you’re acting like one,” he fires back. “and i’m not gonna sit here and watch you throw yourself into shit you can’t handle.”

“i can handle it,” you snap, bitterness rising. “not like you’d know. you’re too busy with your own shit to even notice me half the time.”

that one lands. you see the flash of hurt in his eyes before he storms out, muttering curses under his breath.

but it doesn’t stop you.

if anything, it pushes you further.

more parties. more trouble. more risky decisions that would’ve terrified you a year ago. and every time, you come home with that hollow pit in your stomach, pretending it’s fine. pretending you don’t care.

.

because toji notices, sukuna does too.

toji would casually mention your attitude when he and sukuna were hanging out, but then the stories get worse. the night you came home drunk. the fight you picked with him. the random numbers texting your phone.

sukuna listens, silent. jaw tight, fists clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he grinds his teeth.

he shouldn’t feel this angry. you’re not his problem. you’re not his sister. you’re not his responsibility.

and yet, every word out of toji’s mouth feels like a knife to the gut.

because deep down, he knows it’s his fault.

he lit the match, gave you hope when he should’ve shut it down completely. and now, you’re burning for it. acting out, pushing limits, looking for attention in all the wrong places.

you’re self-destructing, and he’s the reason why.

.

it all comes to a head one night in toji’s room.

the game console hums quietly, gta paused on the tv. toji’s sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. sukuna’s leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching his best friend unravel.

“i don’t know what the fuck to do with her anymore,” toji admits, voice low, rough. “she’s always been a brat, yeah, but lately? it’s worse. she’s reckless. sneaking out, hanging with guys i don’t trust... i’m worried, man.”

sukuna swallows hard, staying quiet.

“she’s not a dumb child anymore, i get that,” toji continues, dragging a hand down his face. “but she’s still my little sister. and the shit she’s doing? it’s not just stupid, it’s dangerous. i feel like i’m losing her.”

sukuna’s chest tightens.

he wants to tell him everything. wants to admit that he knows why you’re spiraling, that he’s the one who hurt you. but the words stick in his throat like poison.

instead, he clenches his jaw and says nothing.

because how the fuck could he explain it?

hey, bro, your little sister’s acting out because i cornered her in the bathroom, told her i wanted her, then rejected her like it meant nothing.

yeah. no.

so he listens. and he burns.

burns with guilt. burns with anger. burns with the kind of helpless frustration that makes his hands twitch, like he needs to smash something just to let it out.

because toji’s scared, and sukuna knows he should be.

you’re spiralling out of control.

and it’s his fault.

~

"n/nnnn, c'mon! we'll only stay for a few hours, it'll be a fun way to end the weekend." maki had been talking your ear off about coming to some house party on the other side of town for around half an hour now, and with each sentance you were becoming more and more into it, she was a really bad influence.

"hot guys, free drinks, weed, what more could you want?" she adds.

"we don't even go to that university, we wouldn't know anyone." you retest, but ofcourse, she has an answer for everything.

"suguru and satoru are going."

...

"god, i hate you." but, unfortunately, that was all you needed to be swooned.

maybe it was apart of you that wanted to pay a final fuck you to sukuna and bang the guys he had been so worried about you getting involved with, but it was also just a good situation. one where you didn't feel like a desperate ex calling them up wanting a quick lay, you just so happened to be going to a party they were going to, no desperation involved. you glanced at the clock, 10.p.m, perfect. "okay i'll meet you outside at like, eleven."

.

the house is dead silent when you slip out, not the kind of tense silence you’re used to, where sukuna’s shadow lurks on the couch and toji’s muttering curses at his video game.

no, tonight’s different. the living room’s empty, the tv dark, the whole place still in a way that feels almost suspicious.

you pause in the hallway, shoes dangling from your fingers. normally, this would be the part where sukuna’s voice cuts through the dark, low and sharp, 'where the fuck do you think you’re going?' or toji stomping out of his room like a storm cloud.

but nothing.

you creep past toji’s door, listen. no movement inside. check the couch, empty. you even peek toward the kitchen, expecting sukuna’s tall frame leaning against the counter, waiting to catch you.

still nothing.

they’re not here.

a weird thrill rolls through you, sharp and reckless. it shouldn’t be this easy. it’s never this easy. but for once, they’re both gone, probably holed up at sukuna’s place across the street, drowning in beers and whatever bullshit guys like them talk about when you’re not around.

“perfect,” you whisper, smirking to yourself as you shove your shoes on and slip out the front door.

the night air is crisp, cool against your flushed skin. it feels like freedom, like trouble wrapped in a bow. maki’s waiting at the end of the block, leaning against her car with her phone in hand, one eyebrow raised when she sees you jogging over.

“damn,” she whistles. “that was fast. thought i’d be waiting twenty minutes for you to sneak out.”

you grin, tugging the car door open. “house was empty. like, empty empty. kinda freaked me out, honestly.”

maki snorts as you climb in. “well, don’t question it. take the win.” she throws the car into gear, the engine humming as she pulls onto the street. “besides, it’s like the universe wants us to party tonight.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your mouth. “you’re a bad influence.”

“and you love me for it.”

.

the air is thick with sweat, cheap beer, and smoke, bodies pressed close together, music pounding so loud you can feel it in your ribs. it’s nothing like the frat parties maki usually drags you to, it’s more intimate, the kind of house party that feels like everyone knows everyone, except for you two.

“see? told you this would be better than some stupid frat thing you wanted to go to,” maki grins, already tugging you deeper into the chaos. “real college kids. real fun.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes, but there’s a buzz in your chest, a mix of nerves and excitement. “yeah, yeah. we’ll see. hopefully they don't realise we're from the college across the way.”

the kitchen is crammed with people playing beer pong, the counters littered with red cups and half-empty bottles. maki beelines for the drinks, pouring herself something dull and shoving a cup into your hand.

“to shitty decisions,” she says, clinking yours with hers.

you smirk. “to even shittier influences.”

the burn of alcohol slides down your throat, warmth spreading instantly. the music shifts, someone turning it up even louder, and maki is already tugging you toward the living room where bodies move like a tide, dancing, grinding, spilling their drinks.

you let yourself sink into it. for once, you don’t think about sukuna’s scowl or toji’s lectures or the way your house has felt like a minefield lately. you just move, laugh, drink, and let maki spin you in circles until you’re dizzy.

hours blur. the party swells. you’re glowing, tipsy, hair sticking to your neck, and maki disappears into the crowd, pulled toward some guy shouting her name.

you don’t even notice until you’re left standing near the edge of the dance floor, drink empty, pulse buzzing.

and that’s when you feel it.

two sets of eyes. heavy. familiar.

you turn, and there they are.

suguru geto and satoru gojo.

they look almost out of place here, a tad older, sharper, more put-together than the drunk college kids spilling beer down their shirts. geto’s leaning casually against the wall, dark hair tied back, a lazy smirk on his mouth. gojo’s beside him, tall and broad, pale hair a messy halo under the dim lights, sunglasses perched on his head like he owns the room.

“well, well,” gojo drawls, eyes dragging over you shamelessly. “didn’t expect to see you here, sweetheart.”

your stomach flips, heat licking up your neck, you were here for them. you force yourself to smirk. “what, you two crash college parties often?”

“only when the scenery’s worth it,” geto says smoothly, his gaze unapologetically slow as it travels down your body and back up. “looks like tonight’s our lucky night.”

you scoff, but your chest tightens. you came here for them. you can’t pretend you didn’t.

gojo steps closer, towering, the smell of cologne and something stronger clinging to him. “you look good,” he says, tone dropping just enough to curl around your spine. “real good. a shame we never got a call from you after that little run in at the coffee shop.”

your breath hitches, but you mask it with sarcasm. “i'm a busy girl, you know.”

“hmm,” gojo smirks. “i'm sure you are.”

geto chuckles, low and rich. “we were talking about you earlier, actually.”

your brows lift. “oh yeah? should i be flattered or worried?”

“flattered,” geto says without missing a beat, leaning in close enough that his lips nearly brush your ear. “definitely flattered.”

your pulse kicks hard.

it’s reckless, dangerous, but god, it feels good. after weeks of being ignored, of sukuna’s rejection echoing in your chest, the attention feels like a drug, different to the lazy good looking douches you've been entertaining, no. this was like comparing marijuana to heroin.

“god, you're so pretty, y/n,” gojo teases, catching the tension in your shoulders. “seriously, we've missed you.” his grin widens, wolfish.

your laugh comes out shaky. “well, aren't you two forward, don't hold back, huh?”

“what’s the point?” geto shrugs, eyes glinting. “life’s too short to dance around what you want.”

your throat goes dry. the voice in the back of your head, sukuna’s voice, sharp and scathing hisses that this is exactly what he warned you about. two older guys who’ll use you, chew you up, and spit you out.

but you shove it down.

because right now, under their gaze, you feel wanted. needed. desired in a way that makes your whole body hum.

“so,” gojo drawls, tilting his head, “you here alone, or…?”

you smirk, feigning bravado. “does it matter?”

“not really,” geto answers, eyes dark. “just means we don’t have to share.”

heat coils in your stomach. your skin prickles under their attention, the air between you crackling.

gojo leans closer, voice dropping. “tell us the truth, sweetheart. did you come here hoping to find us?”

your lips part, but no sound comes out.

geto saves you the trouble. “because we were hoping to find you. maki told us beforehand you were showing up.”

'that little four eyed liar! she set this up.'

the words are silk and smoke, wrapping tight around you.

your chest heaves. you should walk away. you should remember every warning, every scolding, every time sukuna’s voice told you this exact thing would happen.

instead, you tip your chin up. “maybe.”

gojo grins like he’s won something. “knew it.”

geto chuckles, satisfied. “what a smart girl.”

they close in, one on either side, the world narrowing until all you can see, all you can feel, is them. the crowd, the music, the party, it all fades.

gojo’s breath fans your cheek. “so, what’s it gonna be?”

geto’s voice is velvet at your other ear. “gonna let us take care of you?”

your pulse is a drum, your head spinning with alcohol, lust, and reckless defiance.

"please."

.

“yo, kuna.”

across the party, sukuna jerks his head up at the sound of his name.

the rooms loud, but he’s not paying much attention. he and toji showed up less than an hour ago, the place already reeking of booze and sweat. toji’s in his element, laughing with some girl draped over his arm, but sukuna’s on edge, restless.

“you look like shit,” toji snorts, handing him a fresh drink. “you need to relax, man. fuck a girl, blow off some steam. i saw one of your old flings here, red dress, big tits, you should go for it.”

sukuna grunts, barely glancing in the direction toji nods.

normally, he’d say fuck it. normally, he’d already have the girl pressed against a wall whispering dirty things down her neck.

but tonight, something nags at him. a weight in his gut he can’t shake, like something's wrong, really wrong.

still, he forces himself to move, weaving through the crowd toward the girl in red. toji had dragged him here earlier, saying they needed to bang something bad to get rid of the stress they'd both been feeling lately. he'd agreed, not thinking anything of it. but now? all he can focus on is whatever bad thing you could be doing at the moment, out doing god knows what with god knows who.

just as he's about to plaster on a devilish smirk and wrap an arm around his old fling, he sees you.

your laugh, high and shaky, carries over the music. he spots you wedged between two tall figures, and his blood goes cold.

gojo. geto.

the same two fuckers he ripped into you about weeks ago. the ones who made his skin crawl when you talked about being with them.

and there you are, looking up at them with wide eyes, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

their bodies are too close. their eyes are too hungry. and you?

you’re letting it happen.

a fire detonates in his chest, hot and violent.

he doesn’t hear the music anymore, doesn’t see the girl in red still eyeing him mere meters away, all he sees is you.

you, with their disgusting hands trailing you up and down, looks of deceit and arrogance plastered on their sleazy faces.

exactly like he fucking warned you.

and it feels like the floor drops out from under him.

he watches as your head tips back, your hand brushing against gojo’s arm as he leans in close. geto says something low against your ear, and sukuna watches your body react, watches the shiver crawl across your skin.

his jaw grinds.

it should be simple, he should storm over there and tear you away from them, snarl in their smug faces until they back the fuck off. that’s what the protective best friend role demands. that’s what toji would expect of him.

but his feet stay planted.

because deep down, he knows he’s got no fucking right.

you’re not a kid. you’ve always been naive, but in the end you make your own choices, reckless or not. he warned you. he yelled at you. hell, he confessed in the dark of that bathroom that he wanted you, wanted you bad enough to lose sleep over it, and then he still shoved you away.

and this? this is the fallout.

you don’t listen. you don’t care. you’re doing exactly what you want, just like always.

he should’ve never let it get this far. should’ve never let that night in the bathroom happen. he can still feel the ghost of your breath against his lips, the desperate edge in your voice when you demanded answers. he should’ve shut it down clean, cold, final. but no, he let himself slip. he admitted the truth. and then he gutted you with rejection.

and now you’re here, seeking out the exact poison he warned you about, just to spite him.

his grip tightens around the cup until the plastic crumples.

gojo’s hand trails down your arm, fingers brushing yours in a way that makes your breath hitch. geto leans in closer, lips grazing your temple like it is nothing, like he has every right to be there. you laugh, but it is thin, brittle around the edges. the kind of laugh sukuna knows too well.

his stomach knots. he sees it, clear as day. you are starting to fold in on yourself, the tipsy bravado slipping. the way your shoulders tense, the way your eyes dart for half a second toward the crowd like you are looking for an exit. you chew your lip again, a nervous tell he remembers from when you were younger, when you thought no one noticed.

and fuck, it is all he needs to see.

because this is not you having fun. this is you putting on a mask. and those bastards are getting bolder, hungrier, hands inching lower, mouths getting closer. gojo whispers something against your ear, and the look that flashes across your face, quick and sharp before you bury it, makes rage ignite in sukuna’s head.

he swallows it down. he has to think. because as much as his fists itch to connect with their smug faces, he catches a glimpse of muscular movement across the room. toji.

the dumbass is weaving through the crowd, laughing with a beer in his hand, already scouting for his next distraction. he is too close. one more step and his line of sight will land straight on you. his baby sister, cornered between two men he would kill on the spot if he knew what they were capable of.

sukuna’s pulse slams. he cannot let that happen. he cannot let toji see you like this. the disappointment would gut him, and the aftermath? unthinkable.

his decision snaps into place before he even realizes he is moving.

he pushes off the wall, shoulders set, expression flat. his height cuts through the crowd easy, a predator zeroing in. geto and gojo are too wrapped up in you to notice until he is already there.

and then his hand is on you. firm. unyielding.

“what the-” you start, but the word dies in your throat when you are yanked clean out of their little trap. sukuna’s grip clamps around your wrist, hot and unshakable, and before you can protest he is pulling you through the throng of bodies like you weigh nothing.

it happens so fast no one can stop it. geto blinks, gojo curses, your heels scuff against the floor as you stumble to keep up.

you twist, eyes wide. “sukuna, what the fuck-”

“shut up,” he growls low, not breaking stride. his jaw is locked, his eyes hard, every line of his body daring anyone to try and interfere.

behind you, you hear gojo’s laugh, mocking and loud, but it barely cuts through the roar of blood in your ears.

because nothing about this makes sense. you never saw him coming. never expected him to be here, let alone to drag you away like some scene out of a nightmare.

your heart is hammering, confusion sparking into anger, but his grip is iron, unrelenting.

and the truth is, under the fury, under the shock, there is something else. something dangerous in the way his touch brands your skin, in the way his body clears a path without hesitation.

the night air hits sharp as he shoves the back door open and drags you out into the cool darkness. the music from the house thunders behind you, muffled by walls and distance, but your pulse is louder, crashing in your ears as your heels scrape against the sidewalk.

he doesn’t slow until he’s pulled you into the shadow of a narrow side street, one dim streetlight buzzing above, the rest swallowed by dark. his grip finally loosens, dropping your wrist like it burns him.

you rip your arm back, chest heaving, anger sparking so hot you barely recognize your own voice.

“what the fuck is your problem?” you snap, loud, raw, the words cracking. “you can’t just drag me out like that! what the fuck gives you the right?”

sukuna doesn’t answer, jaw set, eyes like molten coals in the shadows. he looks carved from stone, and that makes it worse, makes you want to shatter him just so he’ll react.

“say something!” you shove at his chest, the force making him stumble half a step, but his hand shoots up, catching your wrist again before you can hit him again. his grip is firm but not cruel, steady as his breath, though you see the twitch in his jaw.

“you’re welcome,” he mutters, voice low, controlled, but fraying at the edges.

your laugh bursts sharp, ugly. “you’re welcome? are you kidding me? you think this is some fucking favor? dragging me away from them like i’m some dumb child who can’t make my own choices?”

“those weren’t choices,” sukuna growls. “those were mistakes waiting to happen, i knew you were uncomfortable.”

“and that’s your call, huh?” your voice cracks, high and furious. “you think you get to decide who i talk to, who i touch, who i let touch me?” your hands are trembling now, and you clench them into fists so he doesn’t see. “you think you’re better than them? you think you’re not the biggest mistake i ever made?”

his nostrils flare, but he says nothing.

and that silence, that maddening restraint, makes your throat tighten. tears sting hot behind your eyes, but you blink hard, furious at yourself for letting him see.

“i liked you,” you spit, chest heaving. “do you get that? i fucking liked you. i thought we had something, i thought-” your voice splinters, and you bite it back, nails digging crescents into your palms. “i thought you wanted me too. and then you” the bathroom walls flash in your mind. the way he looked at you, the way his voice dropped when he confessed he wanted you. and then the way he gutted you with rejection, leaving you stranded in the dark.

“you ripped me apart,” you choke, words tumbling too fast now. “you could’ve just said no. you could’ve said you didn’t feel that way. but no, you made me think there was something real, then you shoved me away like i was nothing.”

sukuna’s shoulders twitch, like he wants to speak, but he doesn’t. he just stands there, big and silent and infuriating, the veins in his neck straining.

“and now now you think you can just drag me out of there, away from them, away from anyone who looks at me like i’m worth something? fuck you, sukuna. seriously fuck you.” your voice is breaking, hot tears finally slipping, but you don’t care anymore. you want him to see. you want him to hurt. “you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to reject me and then act like you own me. you’re such a fucking asshole.”

the words hang, heavy, each one pounding between you. your chest is heaving, breath ragged, every nerve lit with fury and pain.

sukuna finally moves. it’s subtle at first, just a step closer, his head dipping like he’s trying to breathe through his own rage. his hand flexes at his side, jaw working, and for the first time all night you see it his mask cracking.

“you don’t know what the fuck you’re saying,” he growls, low, rough, like he’s fighting every word.

“i know exactly what i’m saying,” you snap. “you hurt me. you really fucking hurt me! you made me think i wasn’t good enough- like i was just some stupid girl you could toy around with.” the tears are really flowing now, you're staring at him like he'd just killed your whole family.

sukuna doesn’t move. doesn’t speak. his face is carved from stone, but his eyes, fuck, his eyes look wrecked.

inside his head it’s chaos. every word you spit cuts deep, because you’re right. he did crush you. he did push you away like it was nothing, like you were nothing, because it was the only way he could think to save himself from losing everything else. he told himself it was better, that hurting you once cleanly was kinder than stringing you along. but now? seeing your tears glint in the lamplight, hearing the raw break in your voice? it feels like he chose the cruelest option of all.

he never wanted this. not your pain. not your anger. not the hollow ache sitting heavy in your chest that he put there.

he can't help but move closer, his head falling closer to your face as he inches forward. but you don’t back away. you’re trembling, glaring at him through wet lashes, waiting for something, anything. an answer. an explanation.

he doesn’t have one. not one that doesn’t make him sound like a coward.

what he does have is this unbearable pull.

your mouth is right there. parted, furious, trembling. your chest heaves close to his. your scent wraps around him, sweet and sharp, clinging to the back of his throat.

and he breaks.

the noise in his chest is low, guttural, before his hand shoots up to cradle your jaw. not gentle, it's desperate.

he crowds you into the wall, lips crashing against yours hard enough to steal the air from your lungs.

your gasp melts into the kiss, fury colliding with hunger. his lips are rough, teeth scraping, tongue forcing past your resistance like he’s starving.

and god help you you kiss him back.

all the rage, all the hurt, it ignites into something else, something darker, messier. your hands fist into his shirt, pulling him closer, shoving him even as you cling.

he groans into your mouth, a sound raw and guttural, and it shoots straight through you. his hand drags up your side, fingers splayed, thumb pressing into your ribs like he wants to memorize the shape of you.

you break for air, both of you panting, foreheads colliding. “you...” your voice trembles, half fury, half want. “you can’t just-"

“shut up,” he growls, and his mouth claims yours again, swallowing your protest.

it’s not gentle. it’s not kind. it’s punishment and confession all in one, his teeth nipping your lip hard enough to sting, his tongue demanding more, taking more.

your tears streak hot down your cheeks, but he kisses them away, mouth dragging rough along your jaw, down your neck. you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

“you drive me fucking insane,” he snarls against your throat, each word searing. “you think i don’t want you? i can’t fucking breathe around you.”

your knees nearly buckle, your body arching as his teeth graze your skin. “then why? why did you-"

“because it’s wrong,” he spits, pressing you harder against the wall, like pinning you there will make you believe him. “because you’re his little sister. because you deserve better than this, than me.”

his words are a whip, but his mouth contradicts them, trailing fire down your neck, his hand gripping your waist like he’ll never let go.

you shove at him, tears burning. “you don’t get to say that after everything. you don’t get to push me away and then then kiss me like this”

he silences you again, lips crashing to yours, swallowing the sob in your throat.

and this time, you don’t fight it.

you melt into him, fury and pain bleeding into want, into need. every inch of him presses to you, hard muscle, heat, strength. his hand tangles in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp, to let him deepen the kiss until you’re dizzy.

his breath is ragged when he finally breaks away, his forehead pressed to yours. his eyes are wild, red in the dark, like he’s unraveling.

“i can’t stay away from you,” he admits, voice low, raw, shaking. “i tried. i fucking tried, this was my last attempt at getting you out of my damn head, but i just can’t. you’re all i fucking think about.”

your heart twists, every part of you aching.

“if you want me... please... just have me,” you whisper, broken, desperate.

for a moment, the world stops. the music is gone, the street is gone, everything is gone but the space between your mouths.

then he’s kissing you again, slower this time but deeper, like he’s pouring every war inside him into you.

and you let him.

because no matter how wrong it is, no matter how much it will burn you both alive, you’ve never wanted anything more than what he's giving you right now.

the kiss leaves your lips raw, your chest tight, your head spinning. but before you can catch your breath, the sound of laughter cuts through the alley. a couple stumbles out of the house, too drunk to notice you in the shadows, but the sight makes sukuna’s jaw clench. his hand tightens at your hip like he’s seconds from losing it.

“let's not do this here. you deserve better than an alley,” he mutters, voice low, sharp, final.

before you can argue, his fingers lace tight around yours. one hard tug, and he’s pulling you from the wall, dragging you out of the narrow side street. your protests die in your throat, replaced by the thud of your pulse as he leads you fast, decisive, like the thought of letting you go now would kill him.

the thrum of bass from the party fades behind you, replaced by the night’s quiet. the air’s cool, your skin hot, and his grip doesn’t ease.

“kuna-” you start, breathless, but he doesn’t look back.

his bike waits where he left it, black and mean under the streetlamp next to toji's car, shit, he was here too?

sukuna swings one leg over, settling in like he was born on it, then jerks his chin at you.

“hop on.”

the tone brooks no argument. it’s not a request.

your heart stutters, your chest a mess of anger and need, but you move. your legs hook over the seat, arms hesitating before you finally wrap them around his torso. the heat of him seeps into you instantly, the steady thrum of muscle beneath your hands grounding and overwhelming all at once.

the engine roars to life, loud and rough, vibrating through your bones. and then you’re off, the world blurring into streaks of streetlight and shadow. the wind whips at your hair, your skirt, stings your cheeks, but all you can focus on is the solid heat of him under your palms, the sharp cut of his shoulders, the way he leans into each turn like he owns the night.

your chest presses tighter against his back the longer the ride goes, every curve in the road pushing you flush against him. you feel the strength in him everywhere, the way he handles the bike, the way he doesn’t falter once. your fists curl tighter in his shirt without meaning to, your lips almost brushing his shoulder from how close you are.

by the time the bike slows, your body’s trembling. not from the cold.

he kills the engine outside his house, the sudden silence ringing in your ears. it’s dark here, quieter, no thumping bass, no drunk voices bleeding into the street. just you, him, and the weight of everything simmering between.

he swings off first, boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud, then turns to you. his eyes catch the glow of the porch light, hard and unreadable. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t give you the chance to. just offers his hand, palm up, rough and waiting.

your throat’s dry. your fingers twitch before you finally slip yours into his.

his grip swallows yours whole, steady, sure, and then you’re moving again, dragged toward his door. his shoulders are tense, his stride unrelenting, like if he stops now he’ll think twice.

the key scrapes in the lock, the door swings open, and the second it shuts behind you the air shifts.

quiet. thick. his parents were always off on trips to do with their business, so it's no wonder the house is empty.

you don’t get two seconds before your back hits the wood, hard enough to rattle the frame. his mouth’s on yours again, rougher this time, like he’s been starving for it the entire ride. his hands cage your face, thumbs pressing into your jaw as his tongue claims, teeth scraping until you gasp.

your fingers knot in his shirt, yanking him closer, your fury bleeding into want. every shove of his mouth is an argument, every nip at your lip a demand.

you gasp his name into the heat, but he swallows it whole, groaning into your mouth like the sound alone undoes him. "hmm, easy, baby." he whispers.

his hands drop, dragging down your sides, gripping your waist so hard you think he’ll bruise. he hoists you up without warning, and instinct takes over, your legs wrapping around his hips.

the world tilts as he carries you deeper inside, his stride unbroken. his mouth doesn’t leave yours, not until he sets you down hard against his kitchen counter, the edge biting into your thighs.

you’re breathless, dizzy, your chest heaving, and he looks down at you like he doesn’t know whether to tear you apart or worship you.

“my god,” he mutters, almost to himself, forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and ragged.

you can’t speak. you can only look at him, lips swollen, heart hammering, every part of you screaming for more.

his hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you into him again, slower this time, deeper, like he’s finally letting himself taste what he’s been dying for.

you arch into him, gasping, the counter biting into your skin as he grinds you back against it. the heat is dizzying, the scrape of his teeth on your lip almost making you whimper.

he drags your hips forward, forcing your legs wider around him, one hand locking at the back of your neck to hold you steady as he devours you. his other hand grips your waist like a vice, thumb pressing into the dip of your stomach, fingertips digging into the curve of your hip.

it’s frantic. almost violent. like if he stops he’ll come apart.

but then he does.

he tears his mouth from yours, chest heaving, jaw tight. his grip lingers another second before he forces it to loosen, before he eases you back down onto the counter. his hands lift, framing your face instead, thumbs brushing over the hot, wet tracks of his own making.

his forehead drops to yours.

“fuck,” he breathes, ragged and low, almost a growl, but softer than you’ve ever heard him. “y/n, i-” he cuts himself off, swallows hard, eyes screwed shut like it’s the only way he won’t break.

when he looks at you, it’s different. the hunger’s still there, sharp and searing, but it’s laced with something heavier. something raw.

“tell me this is okay,” he says, voice rough. “tell me you want this. because i swear to god, i know it’s fucked up. i know i’m a hypocrite, telling you all that shit about staying away from older guys. i know i told you no, i shoved you away, and now i’ve got no fucking right to put my hands on you like this.”

his thumbs sweep over your cheeks again, careful now, like you’re something fragile.

“you’ve got every right to shove me off, every right to tell me to fuck myself. i won’t stop you. i’ll take it. but if this isn’t what you want-” his breath shudders. “if this is just you doing what you were doing with those two earlier, just acting, just covering up what you really feel? then i’ll stop. i’ll stop right now i swear."

the words hang heavy, his forehead pressed to yours, his nose brushing yours, his chest rising and falling against you like he’s holding himself together by a thread.

and for the first time, you see it, the truth behind the mask. the vulnerability he’s never let slip.

you lift your hands, trembling, and curl them around his wrists, holding him there, forcing his touch to stay on your face. your voice comes out steady, sure, even though your heart’s pounding.

“i'm not pretending,” you whisper. “not with you.”

his breath hitches, his eyes darkening, but he doesn’t move. doesn’t let himself.

“i’m not uncomfortable,” you say firmly, the words cracking something open between you. “i want this. i want you. all of you. no pretending. just you.”

the silence that follows is sharp, vibrating with tension.

his hands tighten just slightly on your face, then he dips his head, pressing his forehead harder against yours, like he’s trying to fuse himself to you.

“god,” he whispers again, but it’s different this time. softer. almost reverent.

his thumbs stroke your skin with new care, his mouth hovering over yours, not quite kissing you yet, like he’s waiting for permission one last time.

and when you tilt your chin up, giving it, he finally lets himself breathe again.

his mouth hovers over yours, his grip on your face gentler than it’s ever been, but his body is still taut, wound so tight he looks like he might snap if you breathe wrong. your lips almost touch, close enough that you can feel his uneven breath ghost across your skin.

and it hits you, how long this has been building.

years of it, buried in the cracks of your everyday life. years of him barging into your room without knocking, smirking like he owned the place. of him stealing your snacks, teasing you until your blood boiled, making sure everyone thought it was just harmless banter when it was always more, always charged.

years of late nights where he and toji passed out on the couch, empty bottles on the table, you stuck awake listening to their drunken laughter from your bedroom doorway, your chest tight because you could never laugh with them the way you wanted to.

all of it led here.

even recently, his confession, the way he’d cracked for just a moment, admitted he wanted you. the way his rejection afterwards sliced through you so cleanly you thought you’d never stop bleeding. your spiral. the parties, the bad decisions, the boys who weren’t him. the look in his eyes when he realized you were breaking apart and he was the one who pushed you over the edge.

all the silence since then, all the times he ignored you, avoided you, pretended nothing happened while you kept chasing chaos, trying to drown the ache.

it all crashes down into this single moment. his forehead against yours. his hands shaking slightly where they cradle your face. the weight of every year, every tease, every scarred piece of your heart colliding at once.

when he finally kisses you again, it’s nothing like the frantic bite of before. it’s slow, deep, like he’s pouring every wasted year into your mouth, every second of restraint he thought he had, every bruise and scar of wanting you but never letting himself have you.

you whimper into it, clutching his wrists tighter, terrified he’ll vanish again, that he’ll come to his senses and push you away like he did before. but he doesn’t.

he kisses you harder, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a desperate sweep. his breath is uneven, caught between hunger and confession. his hand slips from your face to tangle in your hair, tilting your head so he can taste more of you, can kiss you like he’s starving, like he’s been starving for years.

"your lips are so sweet, pretty."

your legs hook tighter around his hips, pulling him in, your body telling him what words already had, you want this, you want him.

the second your mouths break apart, sukuna moves.

not hesitating, not second-guessing, just moving like he’s been holding this back too long to keep resisting. his grip slides from your face down your body, rough palms skimming the curve of your waist, and in the same motion he lifts you off the counter.

"need you closer."

you gasp against his mouth, arms locking around his neck as he carries you, his strides purposeful, heavy, like he knows if he doesn’t get you somewhere softer than marble right now he’ll ruin you against the damn kitchen.

the couch swallows you in a messy tumble, the creak of old leather filling the silence just before his mouth is on yours again. rough, hungry, no patience left.

his hands are already on your thighs, spreading them, kneading the muscle hard enough to make you squirm. he growls low when your skirt rides higher, bunching at your hips, the fabric no match for how badly he wants to get to you.

your fingers fist his shirt, tugging him down, desperate to keep him close, to keep the heat pressed between you. but he’s already dragging the hem of your skirt down, peeling it off like it’s offending him, leaving you bare from the waist down before you can catch your breath.

his eyes burn as they rake over you, and the weight of his stare makes your stomach twist tight. years of teasing, of pretending, of silence, it’s all there in the way he looks at you now, raw, unapologetic, like he’s finally letting himself feast.

he doesn’t waste time. his hands grip your thighs again, thumbs digging in as he drags you closer to the edge of the couch. you let out a breathless sound, your hips already lifting for him, your body giving in without question.

"can i taste you, sweetheart?"

"please, yes please, just-"

and he devours you.

no warning, no easing in. his mouth crashes to you, hot and rough, his tongue greedy from the start. your head snaps back against the couch, a broken cry slipping out before you can stop it.

"k-kuna- h-ah!"

sukuna groans into you, the vibration making your toes curl. his grip on your thighs tightens, pinning you open as his mouth works deeper, his tongue dragging, circling, pressing until your entire body is arching up to meet him.

it’s messy, it’s desperate, and it’s perfect.

because this isn’t about performance. it’s not about putting on a show. it’s about him finally tasting what he’s craved for too long, about you finally getting what you’ve begged for in silence, in stolen looks, in reckless decisions that never measured up to this.

"you taste so fucking sweet, holy shit,"

he eats like he’s starved, and you can’t help the sounds tearing out of your throat, raw and shaky. your fingers bury in his hair, tugging, urging him closer, and he growls when you do, tongue pressing harder, faster, relentless.

the world blurs. all you know is his mouth, his tongue, the wet heat making your stomach clench tighter and tighter. you’re gasping his name before you can think, a broken plea, and he answers with a guttural sound that vibrates against you, sending you spiraling.

your thighs tremble, your body threatening to snap, and he doesn’t let up. he wants this, you realize dimly. he wants you falling apart under his mouth, wants proof he can break you down, build you up, make you his in a way no one else ever could.

and he does.

"ryo! i'm- i'm gonna-"

the climax rips through you hard, sharp, pulling a cry from deep in your chest as your body bows tight. your fingers grip his hair harder, pulling, shaking, but he doesn’t stop, tongue and lips working you through every shudder until you’re gasping, limp against the couch.

only then does he pull back, mouth glistening, chin wet, his eyes red and wild as he looks at you.

“fuck,” he rasps, voice gravel scraping low, his chest heaving. "shit, your face when you come, need to see that again."

you can’t answer. you can only stare, breathless, thighs still trembling, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then leans over you again. his mouth crashes to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and you moan into it, the filth of it sparking another rush of heat through your veins.

"i've never been with a girl as gorgeous as you, y/n."

his body presses heavy into yours, his hips grinding down, and you feel the hard bludge of him against you, thick and unyielding. you whimper, hips lifting to meet his, and the sound he makes is feral, guttural.

"i've never been with someone as intimidating as you." you reply through breathless speech.

“you make me fucking psychotic,” he mutters into your mouth, his hands already tugging at his belt, unfastening it with rough, impatient movements.

your fingers help, fumbling, desperate, until the leather slips free and his pants are shoved low enough for him to press against you bare.

the heat of him makes your breath stutter. big, heavy, perfect.

he drags the head along your slick, slow, deliberate, and your hips jerk, a sharp whine escaping before you can catch it.

his forehead drops to yours, eyes burning into you. “this okay?” his voice is ragged, almost broken, and it cuts through the haze for just a second. “tell me. i need to hear you say it.”

your chest squeezes, because you hear what he’s really asking. not just for permission, but for forgiveness. for confirmation that you want him after everything.

“yes,” you breathe, clutching his face, holding him there. “please, sukuna. i want you, so badly.”

the relief in his eyes is brief, fleeting, before it’s swallowed by hunger again.

he pushes in slow at first, dragging every inch out, letting you feel the stretch, the way he fills you. your breath hitches, mouth falling open as your body clenches around him, already overwhelmed.

“god,” he growls, his eyes squeezing shut as he bottoms out, his hands gripping your waist so tight it hurts. “yer' so tight.”

you cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders, your body adjusting, burning with every pulse.

and then he moves.

long, deep thrusts at first, dragging out, pressing back in until you’re gasping, your body arching to meet his. the couch creaks under the rhythm, the slap of skin loud in the dim room, every thrust hitting deep, hitting where you need it.

you can’t hold back the sounds, moans, whimpers, broken cries that tumble out without thought. he snarls at every one, his hips snapping harder, faster, like he’s chasing the noises, like he needs them.

the years of restraint, the bathroom, the parties, the spiral, it all pours out here, in the way he fucks you. relentless, hungry, like he’s reclaiming every second he denied himself.

your body can’t keep up, already tightening again, the build sharp and desperate. “a-aa! ryo-” you gasp, nails clawing at his back.

he groans low, forehead dropping to your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. “c'mon baby, come for me,” he rasps, voice ruined. “wanna feel you, fuck, wanna feel you come undone on my cock.”

and you do.

the second climax crashes harder, your body convulsing around him, squeezing, clenching, pulling him deeper. your cry breaks against his ear, and he snarls, hips pounding through it, chasing his own release.

"f-fuck y/n- you're so good baby, you're so- hah-"

it hits him fast, violent, his body tensing above yours. he buries himself deep, a guttural sound tearing from his chest as he spills inside you, holding you tight against him as if letting go would kill him.

you moan at the feeling of fullness washes over you, pulling and scratching at his bare back. "holy shit- kuna-"

the world stills.

the only sound is your ragged breaths, tangled together, sweat sticking your bodies. his forehead stays pressed to your shoulder, his chest heaving, his grip still bruising on your waist.

and for the first time in years, there’s no teasing, no pretense, no walls. just him. just you. just the wreckage of everything you’ve held back finally, finally spilling free.

"shit, y/n..." he takes a few beats to catch his breath as he lifts his head from your shoulder. "that was fucking mind blowing."

you look up at him as he pulls a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead sweet, long. he looks tired, yet so at peace with himself, like everything he'd ever wanted was lying beneath him, because it was.

your body feels boneless, trembling and heavy, but sukuna doesn’t let you stay collapsed on the couch. the second his breath steadies enough, he presses a long kiss to your forehead, then another softer one, lingering like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you beneath him. when he finally pulls back, his big hands are still gentle on your waist, thumbs rubbing the spots he’d been holding tight.

“come on,” he murmurs, voice low, ragged from use, but carrying a warmth you’ve never heard from him before. “couch is shit for sleeping.”

you almost laugh, your body too wrung out to manage more than a breathy sound as he carefully lifts you, cradling you against his chest. the shift in him makes your throat ache.

his bedroom is darker, quieter, tucked away at the end of the hall. he kicks the door open with a heavy boot and sets you down softly on the edge of his bed. the mattress dips under your weight, the sheets cool against your overheated skin.

you expect him to pull back, maybe go to the bathroom or go outside to have a smoke, but he doesn’t. he kneels instead, hands on your ankles, slipping your remaining garments off with surprising care. his touch drags up your calves, soothing, then he leans up to kiss your knee before moving to the dresser.

when he comes back he’s holding a damp towel and a glass of water. “drink,” he orders, but his voice is softer than usual, not sharp, not mocking. when you obey, he watches you finish half the glass before setting it down on the nightstand.

then he takes the towel to you. slow, careful strokes as he cleans you up, wiping away the mess between your thighs, murmuring low praise under his breath. “so good for me,” he says, thumb brushing your hipbone, “look at you, took me so fucking well.”

the words make you shiver, but not just from the heat curling in your belly again. there’s something in the way he says it, like he isn’t just praising your body but you, every piece of you.

once he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and pulls you further up the bed, tugging the blanket over your legs. then he strips off his shirt, kicks off his jeans, and slides in beside you, immediately pulling you into his chest.

you tuck yourself under his chin, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. for a long moment, neither of you speak. it’s just quiet, the kind that feels heavy with everything that still needs to be said.

finally, sukuna exhales slow, his hand rubbing up and down your back. “been thinking about that for a long time,” he admits. his voice is rough, like he’s dragging the words out against his will, but he says them anyway. “longer than i’d like to admit.”

your throat tightens. you knew, of course. all the teasing, the tension, the way he’d looked at you when no one else was watching. but hearing him say it, laying it bare, makes your chest ache.

“me too,” you whisper, pressing closer.

his arm tightens around you, his mouth brushing your hair. “but it isn’t just that.” he shifts slightly, enough to tilt your chin so you’re looking at him. his eyes are softer now, stripped of the usual arrogance, raw in a way that makes your stomach flip. “you’re not just some quick fuck to me, y/n. you’re more than that. you’ve always been more.”

your eyes sting, the weight of his honesty crashing into you. after everything, after the rejection, the pain, the nights you thought he didn’t care at all, to hear this now feels like your chest is cracking open.

you swallow hard, your voice barely a whisper when it finally comes out. “then what are we?”

the question trembles in the air between you, fragile, like one wrong move could shatter the whole moment. your eyes search his face in the dark, desperate for something solid, something you can hold onto.

sukuna’s thumb brushes along your cheekbone, steadying, deliberate. his expression softens in a way you’ve never seen before, stripped of all the cocky smirks and sharp teasing. “i want us to be something real,” he says, voice rough like the words scrape on their way out. “i want you. all of you. not just like this. not just when i can’t hold it in anymore.”

your breath hitches, chest tightening, like your ribs are too small to hold everything pressing inside. “you mean…?”

he exhales slow, the faintest tug of a smirk curling his mouth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. this one isn’t sharp or mocking, it’s almost tender. “i’m asking you out, dumbass.” the words are gruff, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “be mine. officially. no more hiding. no more pretending i don’t want you every damn second of the day.”

for a moment, you can’t breathe. your throat closes up, your chest swells so tight it hurts, and the laugh that bubbles out of you is cracked and wet, carried on a tear slipping down your cheek. “yeah,” you whisper, nodding quickly, like the answer was always right there waiting. “of course, i’ll be yours.”

his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you into him. the kiss that follows is nothing like the ones before. there’s no heat, no bruising urgency, no hunger to consume. this one is slow, deep, grounding, like he’s trying to pour every unspoken word into you, like he’s begging you to understand that this is different. when he finally pulls back, his forehead presses to yours, his breath shaky.

for a moment, the world feels suspended, soft and sure.

but then the weight of reality crashes in, unavoidable.

your lips part, the name slipping out before you can stop it. “toji.”

the syllables land heavy between you. sukuna closes his eyes, groaning low like he’s just been punched. he drops back against the pillow with a hand dragging over his face. “hmm. i know.”

you can’t help the small laugh that bubbles up, muffled as you bury your face in his chest to hide the flush on your cheeks. “yeah,” you murmur, voice trembling. “sorta difficult, hey.”

his arm tightens around you, fingers rubbing absent circles into your back. he doesn’t laugh with you. instead, his voice comes low, thoughtful, stripped bare. “we’ll tell him. not tonight, but soon. i don’t want this to be some dirty little secret. i don’t want you thinking i’m ashamed of you.”

your breath catches. you lift your head, searching his face, needing to see if he means it. “you really mean that?”

his gaze pins you in place, steady and unflinching. “i mean it. i want him to know you’re mine. i want the whole damn world to know i’m not letting you go.”

your heart lurches so hard it almost hurts. fear still twists in your gut, the fear of your brother’s reaction, the fallout this will cause, but under it all is something bigger. relief. hope. the kind that makes your chest ache.

your lips curve into a small, trembling smile. “then we’ll tell him. together.”

his hand slides into your hair, cupping the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss. this one is softer still, lingering, his lips coaxing more than taking. when he finally pulls back, he tucks you against his chest, his hand never leaving your hair.

the silence stretches, but it’s not empty. it hums, alive with everything still unsaid.

you’re the first to break it, your voice small. “why now?”

he shifts slightly, his arm tightening around you. “what do you mean?”

“you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. you rejected me so hard that i thought i’d made it all up in my head. so why now? why tonight?”

sukuna sighs, long and rough, his chest rising beneath your cheek. “because i couldn’t take it anymore. seeing you at that party with those two? letting them put their hands on you like they had any fucking right?”

his jaw tightens, and you feel the muscle tick beneath your fingertips where your hand rests on him. “i wanted to rip them apart. and it wasn’t just because i was jealous, though i was losing my mind with it. it was because i knew you weren’t with them for you. you were trying to bury something. and i couldn’t watch it anymore.”

you bite your lip, the truth of his words cutting close.

“i told myself rejecting you was the right thing,” he continues, his voice low, strained. “you’re young, you’re my best friend’s little sister, it’s fucked six ways to hell. i thought if i pushed you away hard enough you’d hate me, move on, find someone else. someone who wasn’t me.”

he pauses, the sound of his breath unsteady. “but you didn’t. you just hurt. and i couldn’t stand it. i hurt you more than anyone else ever could. and that’s not what i wanted.”

your throat aches, your eyes sting, but you force the words out. “mm. you did hurt me. you made me think i wasn’t worth anything. i tried to forget you, i tried to fill that space with someone else, with anyone else, but it never worked. because it was never them. it was always you.”

his arm tightens around you until it’s almost crushing, his face burying in your hair. “fuck. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.”

you shake your head, pressing your palm to his chest. “don’t be sorry now. just don’t do it again. don’t shut me out. don’t pretend this isn’t real.”

he pulls back enough to look at you, his hand sliding up to cup your face. his eyes are raw, open in a way that feels dangerous. “it’s real. it’s the realest fucking thing i’ve ever felt. i’ve wanted you for years." he took a long breath.

"do you know how many nights i sat in your house, drinking with your brother, trying not to look at you when you’d walk past? do you know how many times i wanted to climb through your window when you left it cracked open? do you know how many times i almost gave in, almost touched you when you were right there, but i stopped myself because i didn’t want to ruin you?”

your breath stutters, your pulse racing at the raw honesty spilling from him.

“and every time i teased you,” he goes on, voice low, hoarse, “it was because i couldn’t help myself. i wanted to see you blush, i wanted to see you snap at me, i wanted any reaction that meant i had you looking at me and no one else. i’m a selfish bastard, y/n. i’ve always been selfish when it comes to you.”

your hand slides up his chest, to his jaw. “and i’ve always wanted you, even when i hated you for it. i didn’t care if it was selfish. i just wanted you to look at me like you are now.”

his lips crash to yours, but this time it’s not hunger, not fire. it’s relief, it’s surrender, it’s years of weight finally breaking apart.

when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavy, like the words themselves took more out of you than anything else tonight.

“i don’t know how we’re gonna do this,” he admits, voice softer now. “your brother’s not gonna take it easy. and i’ve fucked up a lot already. but i know one thing.” he tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him. “i want to try. with you. i want to make this work. i don’t care how messy it is, i don’t care how much hell we catch for it, i want you.”

you nod, your throat too tight for words, tears sliding hot down your cheeks.

he kisses them away, murmuring against your skin. “don’t cry, baby.”

you bury yourself in his chest, your hand clutching his shirt like you’ll never let go.

and for the rest of the night, you talk.

you talk about the first time you realized you wanted him, about how every stupid argument was just another way of circling each other.

he admits how jealous he was about last summer when he found out about gojo and geto, how it killed him to picture you with anyone else. you confess how lost you felt after the bathroom, how much you hated yourself for still wanting him after he’d made you feel like nothing.

he listens, every word sinking deep, and when it’s his turn he lays it all bare. the nights he lay awake thinking about you, the excuses he made to himself to avoid you, the sick twist of guilt every time he thought about what it would mean to toji.

each confession feels like tearing open an old wound, but together you stitch them closed. piece by piece, word by word, you rebuild something stronger.

by the time sleep begins to tug at your edges, you’re curled half on top of him, his hand tracing idle shapes on your back.

your eyes flutter, heavy, and the words slip out, half-dreaming. “we’re really doing this.”

sukuna chuckles low, rough, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “yeah, princess. we’re really doing this.”

you smile against his chest, and for the first time it feels real.

not a game. not a tease. not a fantasy.

just you and him. finally, finally giving in to what’s been there all along.

5k special yayyy !! thank you all so much for all of the love and support it means the world to me.

"i promise," he practically moans already pulling one thigh open to fit himself at your entrance. "thank you thank you thank you."

despite having taken him countless times already, you still gasp at the stretch of him pushing inside of you. you wonder if you'll ever get used to it.

he drapes his weight over you once he's buried himself to the hilt and you let out a deep sigh in turn. you can only describe how well he fits inside of you as natural—like every inch of him was moulded to fit your heat without fail.

"see?" he whispers against your jaw, kissing the corner of your mouth before tucking his face back into the crook of your neck. "i could stay like this forever."

and for a little while, he does. he relaxes fully, the only indicator of him still being awake is the sweet hums he lets out as you card your fingers through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp. and, despite his weight on top of you, relaxation takes hold quick, and you find yourself drifting off into the comfortable embrace of slumber.

until he moves, of course. his shoulders tense and his face scrunches up against your neck in obvious frustration.

"don't," you keep your eyes shut beneath him. "don't you dare."

he shifts against you, cock twitching where it’s locked deep inside. "but—"

"choso."

he groans pitifully and lifts his head just enough to look down at you. "i need to move."

"you promised," you crack one eye open to look at the flush decorating his cheeks, visible even in the low light. you try and keep a stern look on your face, but you're already shifting your hips in anticipation. "we need to sleep."

he lifts his head just enough for you to see his face: puffy-eyed, hair a tragic halo, mouth already twisting into that smug half-smile — that i-deny-i-care-but-i-actually-do-care expression. “woman, kiss me,” his tone is small and grumpy and absolutely manipulative. “or you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

you scoff. “seriously?”

“dead serious.” his eyes close again, smug. “payment required. i can't just let go of you for free.”

you lean back a little, teasing. “i'm not gonna kiss you.”

his brows knit, and for a second you think he’s going to argue. instead, he huffs, flops onto his back with all the grace of a sulky teenager, and announces, “fine. suit yourself.”

you sit up, staring down at him. his eyes are shut tight, his mouth in the most exaggerated pout you’ve ever seen.

“oh my god,” you say, amused. “are you seriously—are you pretending to be asleep right now?”

nothing. not even a twitch.

you lean closer, grinning. “toji. i know you can hear me.”

he doesn’t move. and you start to wonder if he isn't being dramatic this time.

you poke the side of his head. “are you actually asleep?” you whisper, because you know him. he’s pretending. he always ignores you when he wants you to do something — and it always, always works.

and yet, still no answer. the silence stretches, and you almost laugh because this little game is so painfully him. you smile, tracing his high cheekbones, feeling the scruff of his stubble tickling your fingertips.

then, you make a show of pulling a pillow over your head, thinking you’ll win the battle of wills by simply refusing to entertain his childish antics.

and that's when you feel it: a thumb ghosting over the curve of your hip and a tired rumble in his chest as he sighs right by your ear.

“you’re so mean,” he mumbles, fake-sleep voice double-layered with intent. “all i want is a kiss from my girlfriend.”

“i am not—” you protest, but your words melt into a giggle because he sounds like a whiney toddler and it’s impossible to remain indifferent.

he shifts, heavy and warm, and the mattress dips as he folds himself against you. he drags his nose along your jaw, eyes closed but lashes fluttering as if in concentration. “kiss me,” he says again, softer, like it’s a spell he’s casting. “please.”

you hover for a beat, loving the whole ridiculous scene: the messy hair, the lazy eyes, the way his bottom lip juts out in a theatrical pout. you can't possibly resist.

so you lean down, as quick as a wink, and press one soft kiss to his temple.

he doesn’t respond at once. you pull away, triumphant, but then his hand slides up to your neck and tilts your face, and that sleepy smile of his cracks into a wicked grin. his lips finally find yours, and it’s gentle, surprisingly. a lazy kiss that’s all quiet sighs and soft lips, as if you have all the time in the world to love eachother slow.

when you pull back he’s still smiling, still half-asleep, mind you. but the pout has vanished. “thought you’d never give in,” he murmurs, thumb brushing a stray crust of sleep from your eye.

“i still need to piss,” you remind him, voice soft.

“hmm,” he hums, dragging his nose over yours. he presses another kiss to your forehead, long and lazy. “5 more minutes.”

"tojiii!"

--

Your pulse kicked up hard in your throat. “Wait. Are you- are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

The man finally spoke, voice low and smooth. “We’re asking if you’d like to come home with us.” He let the word home hang there, heavy with suggestion, and then offered the faintest smirk.

You put your glass down a little too quickly. “You can’t just… walk up to people and—”

“Why not?” the woman interrupted, laughing, a rich and unapologetic sound. “We’re honest. You’re gorgeous. We think you’re gorgeous. And we like to share.” She glanced back at him, brushing her fingers against his shoulder like she couldn’t resist touching him even mid-conversation.

Heat prickled at the back of your neck. They were magnetic together even more than apart. You couldn’t stop staring at their hands, the way his ring glinted when he touched her hip, the way she leaned toward him like gravity demanded it. And now their attention was squarely on you.

The man tilted his head. “You can say no,” he said, softer now. “We don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But if you’re interested…” His eyes swept you up and down, subtle but unmistakable. “…we’d make it worth your time.”

Your mouth went dry. “You two are insane.”

“Maybe,” she said with another laugh, curls bouncing as she leaned down closer to your ear. “But you’re not walking away, are you?”

And the truth was you weren’t.

You shook your head a little. "I don't even know your names."

Her laughter spilled out of her like champagne, bright and easy, and she leaned back just enough to look at you properly.

“Oh, you’re right.” She pressed a hand dramatically to her chest, eyes sparkling. “Where are my manners? I’m Koriand’r.” She rolled the name like music on her tongue before grinning wider. “But my friends just call me Kory.”

The man beside her leaned a little closer, resting his elbow on the bar casually, but his gaze didn’t waver from you. “Dick,” he said simply, offering his hand out to you like this was the most normal introduction in the world. His palm was warm, grip steady, like he was daring you to pull away.

Your eyes flicked between them. Kory with her wild curls and fearless grin, Dick with his quiet intensity and for a second, you almost laughed at how surreal this was.

“Now you do,” Kory said, tilting her head, curls brushing over her shoulder. “So? What’s yours, gorgeous?”

The way she asked it wasn’t casual. It was deliberate, intimate, like she wanted to memorize it already, like she’d say it later in a way that would make your knees shake.

Your lips parted, heartbeat kicking hard as you gave them your name.

Dick smiled at the sound of it, small but knowing, while Kory repeated it under her breath, tasting it like a secret.

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were both leaning just a little too close, that the air between all three of you was thick and charged.

“…This is insane,” you whispered.

“Or,” Kory countered with a sly grin, “it’s the best decision you’ll make all week.”

Dick could see in your eyes a flicker of doubt, you weren't confident on going home with two strangers that have been eyeing you the whole night.

"C'mon. Let us buy you a drink." Dick said with a tiny smile, offering his hand.

Your throat felt dry, though not from the lack of alcohol. Their combined attention was dizzying. You let out a shaky little laugh, eyes flicking between them, searching for some crack in their confidence and finding none.

"I could use a drink." You smiled shyly, accepting his hand guiding you towards the bar. You shivered at the touch of Kory's hand in the small of your back.

The drinks arrived, cold glasses set down in front of the three of you. Dick slid yours closer with two fingers, his rings clinking softly against the glass.

“Cheers,” he said smoothly, raising his own. Kory followed, her grin sweet but wicked at the edges.

You hesitated, but lifted yours anyway. The first sip went down sharp, heat blooming in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way both of them were looking at you.

Kory leaned in, elbow on the bar, curls brushing your bare arm. “You’re even prettier up close,” she murmured, eyes lingering like she was drinking you in more than the cocktail in front of her.

You swallowed hard. “You two always pick people up in bars together?”

Dick laughed quietly, low in his chest. “Not always. Only when the vibe’s right.” His dark eyes found yours, steady and calm, like he was daring you to look away. “And with you? The vibe’s very right.”

Kory’s hand slid just close enough to your knee that you felt the ghost of her touch. “We could stay here all night and keep talking…” Her voice dipped, teasing. “…or we could take this somewhere more private.”

You blinked at her, pulse stuttering. “You mean—”

“We mean,” Dick cut in, smiling like he’d already read your thoughts. “No pressure. But you come home with us tonight, you won’t regret it.”

Kory giggled softly, leaning in closer so her perfume wrapped around you. “And we’ll take very good care of you.”

Dick swirled what was left of his drink, eyes still fixed on you. There was a smile on his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time, it was sharper.

“You know,” he said slowly, “we don’t usually bother pushing this far.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing yours. “But I think you already know we’re not leaving this bar without you tonight.”

The statement landed heavy, a mix of promise and challenge.

Kory’s hand finally settled on your knee, warm, deliberate. She tilted her head, pink curls spilling forward as her mouth curved into that sultry, knowing smile. “Why would we? You’re exactly what we were looking for.”

Your throat went dry. “That’s… a lot of confidence.”

Dick chuckled, low and steady. “Not confidence. Certainty.” He set his empty glass down and angled toward you, his knee brushing yours under the bar. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel this too.”

You tried, but his gaze held you in place, unwavering.

Kory leaned in so close you caught the sweetness of her drink on her breath. “We’ll be good to you,” she murmured, voice soft but full of heat. “But we’re not walking out that door without your hand in ours.”

Her thumb stroked slowly against your leg, subtle, grounding, but it made your whole body tense.

Dick’s hand brushed your arm, light but purposeful. “So,” he asked, quiet, almost teasing, “are we going to finish these drinks… or are we leaving now?”

You were completely naked in the bed of their apartment, they never stopped looking at you while they also discarded their own clothes. They were both built like greek gods, both with perfectly toned stomach, strong arms and legs that could easily suffocate you.

Kory sat on the edge of the bed first, her big curls falling around her shoulders, eyes roaming your body with a hunger that made your stomach flip. Dick followed, slower, deliberate, his gaze just as intense.

You shifted nervously under their combined stare, pulling the sheet a little higher over yourself.

“Don’t hide,” Kory murmured, her hand reaching out to pull the sheet right back down. Her palm was warm, hot even, brushing over your thigh. “You’re too beautiful to hide.”

Dick sat beside you, his hand landing on the other side of your hip, trapping you between them. “She’s right,” he said, voice low and smooth, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Look at you… spread out and waiting for us. You’re perfect.”

Your pulse thundered in your throat. “This feels… surreal,” you whispered.

Kory’s grin softened, but her touch didn’t. Her hand slid up your stomach, fingers brushing over your breasts before cupping one, thumb flicking your nipple until you gasped. “It feels right,” she corrected. “You’ll see.”

Dick leaned down, kissing your shoulder, slow and deliberate. His mouth trailed up to your neck, lips teasing the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. “Let us show you,” he whispered against your skin.

Kory climbed onto the bed fully, swinging one leg over so she was straddling your chest. She looked down at you with that same fearless smile, curls bouncing as she leaned forward just enough to press her breasts against your face. “Can you taste me, gorgeous?” she teased, tugging her crop top over her head and tossing it aside.

Dick’s hand slid between your thighs, his rings cold against your burning skin. He teased your folds with slow, deliberate strokes, never quite giving you what you needed. “Already wet,” he murmured, smirking against your throat. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

Kory giggled when you whimpered beneath her, rolling her hips just enough for you to feel the heat of her against your chest. “She likes it,” she said, voice lilting, “look at her squirm.”

Dick finally slid two fingers inside you, his pace controlled but firm, curling them just right. You moaned, and he bit your shoulder lightly, as if savoring the sound. “Say it,” he demanded softly, his lips brushing your ear. “Say you’ve been waiting for us.”

Your voice broke. “I… I have.”

Kory gasped dramatically, leaning down to kiss you deeply, hot and hungry, her tongue claiming yours while Dick worked you open with his hand. “Mmm,” she purred as she pulled back, licking her lips. “So sweet. I want her mouth, Dick.”

He chuckled low, pulling his fingers from you only to suck them clean before shoving them back inside. “Greedy,” he teased, eyes darkening as he watched your reaction.

Kory slid further down until she was straddling your face fully now, lowering herself with a wicked grin. “Be greedy with me,” she whispered. “Eat.”

The second your tongue touched her, she moaned, throwing her head back, her curls bouncing as her hips rolled against your mouth. Dick kissed your stomach, trailing down until he replaced his fingers with his tongue, lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes that had you arching off the bed.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” he groaned against you.

Kory leaned forward, tangling her fingers in your hair, guiding your mouth against her. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice high and breathless. “Don’t you dare stop.”

You were shaking, every nerve lit on fire from their combined touch. His mouth devouring you, her heat pressing down against your tongue, their hands roaming, gripping, owning every inch of you.

Overwhelmed, overstimulated, you muffled a cry against Kory’s slick folds, and Dick laughed darkly, pulling back just enough to look up at you. “Already falling apart?” he asked, lips glistening.

You didn't answer him, you couldn't with your mouth full, so you just tugged his hair and pulled him back between your folds. He went back working his two fingers knuckles deep and his tongue lapping over your clit while Kory rode your face.

"Fuck—D-Dick I'm—" you blurted out, bucking your hips up feeling the sting in your walls, only for him to put a hand on your stomach keeping you in place.

"Yeah, baby. C'mon. I'll eat it all up."

His voice rumbled against your core, low and filthy, as his tongue flicked faster. His fingers curled, hitting that exact spot inside you that made your vision blur. Your hands clawed at the sheets, at his hair, at Kory’s thighs above you, but there was no escape from how they were devouring you.

Kory was gasping, grinding down onto your face with no shame. “She’s so good, Dick—fuck—her tongue is perfect.” Her nails dragged down your chest, leaving faint red trails over your skin. She tugged your hair to keep your mouth right where she wanted it. “Don’t stop, pretty thing, don’t you dare stop.”

You tried to answer, to beg, but Dick pushed two more fingers inside you, stretching you until your cry vibrated against Kory’s clit. She shuddered hard, laughing breathlessly as her hips rolled faster.

“That’s it,” Dick growled, sucking your clit into his mouth so hard your back arched clean off the bed. “I want you dripping all over my face. I want Kory tasting you when she kisses me.”

Your thighs were trembling, shaking around his head. “I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted, biting your inner thigh hard enough to sting. “Right now. Come for us.”

Kory leaned down, her curls spilling across your chest as she smirked down at you. “Listen to him, gorgeous. Make a mess for us.” Her hips ground down harder against your tongue, and the combined weight of them, their mouths, their hands, their voices commanding you, broke you open.

Your whole body convulsed, stars exploding behind your eyes as your orgasm ripped through you, wet and overwhelming. Dick groaned against your folds, drinking you in while his fingers fucked you through it, relentless.

Kory gasped when your moans sent shocks through her own climax. “Oh—fuck yes—” she cried out, thighs clamping around your head as she shuddered above you.

When you went limp, trembling and gasping for air, Dick finally pulled back, lips and chin glistening. He crawled up your body, catching Kory’s mouth in a filthy kiss so she could taste you on his tongue.

When they finally broke apart, both of them looked down at you, wrecked and spread out beneath them. Dick smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. They shared a quick look thinking about all the positions they could put you on this night.

you snap your gaze up to him, though this new sight only makes things worse. suguru looking down at you, his lazy grin framed by damp hair... you can only imagine what look would wash over his face if you were looking up at him instead with his cock in your mouth. would you treat him well? make him feel as good as he made you? would your inexperience faze him or only spur him on? to be the only man that knows that the roof of your mouth feels like...

"you're squeezing your thighs together," he notes.

ah. so you are. you might just explode and die. "stop talking."

"what can i say? i like the sound of my own voice."

"i don't."

"i think you do."

"you think? doesn't that hurt your brain, sugu?"

geto rolls his eyes and takes a step even closer. if you were to tilt your head down any, you'd probably brush against the prominent bulge that is now tenting the towel hardly staying together on his hips. shit, now you're staring again.

"i could help you out," he drawls. "like last week."

you blink up at him. "i don't need that."

he doesn't believe you, of course. and you're not about to admit to him that after feeling his mouth on you last week, you haven't been able to make yourself cum since. still, you aren't sure it's all because you miss his mouth.

you loved it, of course you did, but since he went home that evening and the two of you fell back into being friends-without-benefits, you'd found yourself thinking less about geto pleasing you, and thinking about learning how to please him. You want to know how it feels to flip this, to take him apart instead. To see if he falls to pieces as easily as you had under his tongue.

"what if i want to return the favour?"

geto looks almost as surprised as he did when he found your stash of literary porn that sparked this whole exploration saga. you can practically see the gears turning in his head, the implication of your words going straight to his dick. and then he laughs. "oh? my sweet little pervert wants to get their mouth on me?"

asshole. "nope," you lie, rolling back over to face away from him. "not anymore."

"get on the floor."

you still. "what?"

"cmon," he's grabbing your arm with one of his big hands, his grip gentle but firm. "you wanna learn how to suck dick? now or never."

"sugu—" you start, but swallow when you see the look he's giving you. stern, but desperate in a way that convinces you that nothing could be sweeter than granting him release.

the floor is cold against your knees, but you can't seem to focus on anything other than suguru, who sits down on the edge of your bed, legs spread, leaning back on his arms. he's looking down at you still, not too differently than before.

there's a moment that passes where the two of you just look at each other. you wonder if this is how he felt last week, looking up at you from between your legs, near salivating at the prospect of tasting you.

"i don't know how," you whisper, glancing down to the tuck that keeps his towel in place, though your gaze is quickly lifted when geto takes your chin between his fingers and forces you to look up at him.

"sure you do," he says. "you read all that crazy porn, you've got a whole library of blowkjob scenes on that fucking phone of yours."

"you're not funny."

"yes i am," he smiles, and presses a thumb against your lips. instinctively, you open your mouth and let him push in. pressing down on your tongue, his breath hitches when you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. "shit."

pulling his thumb out and replacing it with his pointer and middle fingers, he starts to slowly press in and out of your mouth. you wonder if he's visualising your lips around his cock instead, or if he's remembering how those same fingers looking plunging in and out of you last week.

"surely this isn't doing anything for you," you say, though your words and muffled by his still-moving fingers. there's no pleasure in sucking on his fingers, right?

"you have no fucking idea," is all he can manage in a reply. huh.

mentally shrugging, you let him finger-fuck your mouth for a little while longer before he finally pulls out and tucks his hair behind an ear.

you look pointedly down at his towel. "can i?"

"you—yeah, yeah go ahead."

you reach out and untuck his towel, noting the way he leans back on his elbows as you let the white cloth fall to either side of his lap. his cock is thick and so hard it looks painful and...

he's fucking huge. your eyes near bulge as you take in the full length, the weigh it weighs itself down as he shifts his hips. even the veins stand out like cords. you aren't quite sure whether you should drool at the sight or cry.

"all yours," geto says, and you don't know why, but it comforts you a little. just you and him, the man you're most comfortable with. if you're about to embarrass yourself, you'd rather it be with suguru.

you start with a kiss to his navel, though. pressing up on your knees to reach his abs, you ghost your lips over the line of dark hair that trails down to the base of his cock. your forefinger gently traces a bulging vein that runs up the underside of his cock and, when you reach the tip, you dart your tongue out and taste the precum that's already started to bead.

it's not as strong as you'd expected it to taste—salty if nothing else, and it spurs you on to then wrap your lips just around his achy tip. almost immediately, suguru lets out a low groan and bucks his hips up a little.

"careful," he says, though brings a hand up to the side of your face in a comforting gesture. "i'm... sensitive right now."

you furrow your brows and give him a look. sensitive?

"i just came a few minutes ago, your mouth is... a lot."

you have to make a conscious effort to pull off his cock before clenching your jaw, lest you want to bite the idiot's cock off. "huh!?" you sputter, wiping your lips. "you were teasing me for touching myself while you were in there jerking off?"

he blinks down at you. "yes."

"that's it? just yes?"

"...yes?"

you blink up at your best friend. stupid fucking hypocrite of a man, with his stupid fucking smile and stupid fucking massive dick. how embarrassed you had felt, despite suguru and your closeness, should have been reciprocated. he was doing the exact same thing as you were, and is now only reaping the rewards of your lust.

he's sensitive? you smile, which makes his smile drop in turn.

"why are you smiling like that? you know i don't trust you when—ohhh my fucking god."

you've got half of his cock in your mouth before he can even start to process the blinding pleasure shooting up through his spine. it's a bit of a mess, owing to this being your first time, but has his balls tightening all the same.

"oh fuck you," suguru is squeezing his eyes shut tight as you put to use one of the techniques you've read countless times before and swirl your tongue around his tip. "those fucking books."

you'd smile if your lips weren't stretched around his girth. the sounds escaping him are enough to spur you on further, that combined with the taste and weight of his cock on your tongue and you think you've never been this wet before in your life. you wrap one hand around what of suguru's length you can't fit in your mouth, and then snake the other one downwards to dip beneath the waistband of your shorts.

you're close already, though you keep your own pleasure at bay. being the first to cum while you're giving head would give suguru too much to tease you with, and you're rather enjoying the sight of him genuinely falling apart beneath you.

yeah, you aren't just friends. you're sure you'll continue to pretend to be, but just the thought of someone else in your position makes your ministrations speed up: this suddenly pathetic man is all yours, like it or not, and you think he always has been, in a way.

"you're sure... hah, fuck... you're sure you've never done this?" he's practically whining now, bucking his hips up in time with your stroking, forcing himself just that little bit deeper towards the back of your throat. you gag a little, but hold your position. "how the hell..."

you rub small circles over your clit in time with suguru's thrusts up into your mouth. the dual sensation of delivering pleasure both to him and yourself is threatening to undo you, and you know for a fact that suguru isn't far behind. you've never seen him messy like this, not even last week when the bottom half of his face was shiny with your wetness.

"i'm close," he warns, moving his hand from the side of your face to the back of your head. "gonna cum, all for you... you're so good to me, aren't you?"

so he rambles when he's close... noted.

"so pretty," he goes on. "fucking... god, fucking perfect. i'm so proud of you... i love you."

and so you stop, pulling back off his cock and looking up at him with eyes almost as wide as his own. he's staring back down at you, lips parted in shock at his own words.

"you love me?" you gawk, pulling your hand away from your pulsing heat.

"no," he's quick to shake his head. "i mean, well yeah, of course i love you. you're my best friend, i just... shit, you know? i didn't mean to—"

he's cut off by the laughter that bubbles out of your chest. it starts off small, and then grows louder with each harsh breath you take. "you should see your fucking face!" you giggle. "i'm fucking with you, idiot."

suguru lets out a half laugh in turn. "you fucking asshole."

"you deserve it," you catch your breath, inhaling deeply to calm yourself before tilting your head and looking your best friend in the eyes. "i love you too, you know."

it'd be a sweet moment between friends if your words didn't act as some sort of trigger for suguru. without warning, he's letting out a choked groan and bucking his hips up as ropes of hot cum spurt from his angry tip.

what doesn't hit your face or land on his stomach drips down his cock and over your hand where you still hold his still-throbbing length.

"did you just—"

"don't say a fucking word."

the two of you stare at each other for a moment. your gaze darts from suguru's softening cock, and then up to his pink-dusted face before returning southwards.

you lick your lips, tasting the salty cum that has painted them white, before ducking down and licking a long stripe up his shaft. you collect every last drop of his release, eyes never leaving his, as you swallow the mess suguru made at hearing you love him.

once his cock is clean, you push yourself up to sit on the bed beside him, and swipe two fingers through the mess pooling on his stomach.

because you like watching your best friend squirm, you mimic his actions from before and press your fingers into his waiting mouth. he's less eager to receive than you were, but cleans himself from your digits nonetheless.

"i get it now," you tease, pulling your fingers from his mouth and wiping your lips with them.

"get what?"

Clutching the lower half of his face, he looks concentrated as he waits for the shuffler to give him some less painful option, groaning in pain once again, looking back at the scene, and then groaning again. "One armed hug," he strains out, blindly reaching for the lowest number he could rank it as.

The filter shuffles yet again, and he's almost in tears, groaning immediately on instinct but then doubling back at his screen. "Polite hug." He contemplates it. "Okay, a two, not so bad, not so—"

A pause. "A classic hug." He stares at the screen like it just betrayed him, until he decides it's not so bad. Reluctantly, he ranks it at three.

Then, he waits for the filter to give him another painful vision, and it delivers. "A slow catcher hug—oh my godddd." Satoru is shaking his head, eyes teary as he groans loudly at the though of you jumping up to another man, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in for a hug. If someone was listening to him, it would seem like he was dying with the way he was covering his mouth, shaking his head, and exclaiming "what the fuck"'s as he stared at his phone screen in sheer shock.

Unfortunately for you, you were within earshot, blending in your blush and doing finishing touches as you heard Satoru's shrieks coming in from the living room. He seemed to be on the edge of tears, and worriedly, you set down your brush and rushed to where his sobs were coming from.

And there he was: in fetal position, phone on the floor as he shook his head as if in shock. "Baby," you hurried to him, grabbing his face so you could figure out what was making him so distressed.

He didn't seem to be injured as he meets your eyes, upset. "I can't do this bruh," he laments while turning to be on his back and rubbing his eyes. You just look at him confused.

"Do what?"

He turns, and pauses. Scans you in your champagne dress for the fancy place he was taking you and the way you did your makeup so sultry. It's just for him, but after the events of that Tiktok—that's now stopped filming—all he feels is petty jealousy because other guys can see you like this.

Out of nowhere, he declares, "I can fight."

You blink. "What?"

"I can fight," he repeats, nodding emphatically as if trying to convince himself. Then, after a beat: "Why do I have such a pretty girlfriend?" He groans again, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Baby, why do you look so good right now?"

While he does this, you inspect him for any signs of injuries or things that could've caused him this much distress. Finding none and used to his theatrics, you sigh and pat his cheek. "I’m going to finish getting ready," you say, deciding he’s not in mortal peril after all.

As you return to your vanity, Satoru calls after you, still sulking. "Just so you know, I ranked the polite hug at two. Because I love you. And I can fight."

"Good to know, Satoru."