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And to top it all off, your face was now plastered on the front page of E news.

When you tried to think back to a year ago, you aren’t sure which of these would have been worse. 

Sukuna had (gently) demanded that you go back with him to his hometown after some time in the hospital. His impulse control was non-existent and any emotional intelligence he had amassed up to the moment before the accident seemed to be lagging behind the rest of his mind. 

He had been so intense at the hospital that you’d burst into tears. You know he meant well, but he’d said it with such finality when discussing next steps with Toji. The man brushed over it so quickly you thought you hallucinated it, not even giving you an opportunity to think through it. Thankfully Toji must’ve seen your reaction, halting the rodeo star mid sentence.

“My girlfriend should be the one to be with me to help me heal, no?” his gruff voice echoes off the walls of the outpatient rehab facility he’d been moved to.  With the much less intensive medical equipment, it was more akin to an assisted living facility. 

“Your girlfriend can’t just drop everything to move three hours away from where she lives and works at the drop of a hat you idiot,” Toji barks back. “You gotta fuckin’ ask her!”

Sukuna’s brow furrows, whipping around to pierce you with his blazing red stare, causing you to avert yours in response.

What followed was some kind of anxiety attack as all the theoretical challenges ahead seemed to converge, compressing you into a shape your body didn’t know how to conform to.   

“Babe…” Sukuna tried to backtrack, unknowingly showing progress by exhibiting some empathy. His eyes softened a touch and he reached his hand towards you to hover near your shuddering shoulders. 

You could hardly lift your eyes to him, embarrassed at the way your nervous system was overriding everything in your mind. 

You love him so much, but dammit why did his factory reset settings need to be so unpolished! 

“I’m sorry, I’m doing it again,” he murmurs, clenching his jaw and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Before making a decision, envision those close to me first…” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. 

You’ve come to recognize that as the telltale sign of him being irritated at himself for not thinking of you before blurting out something. 

After each of you takes a deep breath and Toji steps out to give some space, you try again. 

“I’d really like it if you could come to my house while I take some time off, especially while I’m still getting the hang of everything,” he moves closer to the bland wooden chair you are sitting in. 

“What are your thoughts on something like that?” he continues, sitting down next to you on an adjacent sofa.

Your thoughts race as you try to pull them together in order to convey something coherent. Of course you want to help and be there for him. Neither of you have truly gotten more than a few moments by yourselves throughout all of this. While your job has been flexible, you know it can’t go on like this forever. Sooner or later you’ll be expected to come back full time. 

Additionally, none of your support system exists where he lives. From what you’ve researched, it’s a small town in the mountains, and even that is generous considering Sukuna lives outside the town limits. 

The whole idea terrifies you when you realize Sukuna is the only person you know there. 

“My job, for one. My boss has been generous, but it’s been a month, and they are starting to ask questions…”

“I have plenty of money-“ he interrupts and you can’t hold back the eye roll that escapes in response. 

“Sorry…continue,” he blushes and it’s hard to not snort with amusement. 

“Anyways, I have that decision weighing on me. Plus, and don’t shit on me for this because I’m being honest and vulnerable here, living in such a rural area scares me. I’ve got a lifestyle I’m accustomed to and this will be very different. None of my friends live there, nobody I know except for you.”

You pause to find Sukuna leaning forward, studying you with both his arms resting on his thighs, being as patient as he can be even though he’s been bouncing his leg constantly.

“It’s just…a lot,” you finish, exhaling loudly before rubbing your face in your hands. 

Turning back to your boyfriend, you find him deep in thought, staring at the pastel colored wall opposite where you both sit. Some dust floats in the air, illuminated by the mid morning sun slipping through the blinds. 

His sharp jawline tenses from what you assume is from chewing on his cheek. Heavy boots drag across the laminated floor when he leans back into the couch, propping up a leg to rest his ankle on his knee. 

“I hear you, and even though it sounds trivial to me, it’s your truth and how you feel, so I respect it,” his scratchy voice responds. 

You didn’t even realize your shoulders were scrunched up until they sagged with relief, no longer needing to prepare to defend your feelings. 

“I have more money than I know what to do with. While they say it doesn’t buy happiness, it definitely can make life easier in times of stress.”

He pauses, glancing your way before continuing. 

“Would you consider taking a leave of absence from your job? I’ll support you. You want something, you buy it. You need something my town doesn’t have? Overnight it or I’ll hire someone to drive it myself. Wanna see your friends or go into the city? Done, I’ll have someone chauffeur you around.

“And, just my two cents, life’s a lot more private up there. Like it or not, you’re plastered all over the internet now with me. More people to harass you down there. I’m already from my hometown, old news, you’ll largely be left alone. And the ranch is secure, paparazzi won’t be allowed to get close,” he adds.

Now that’s something you haven’t thought of. The first flashing cameras had almost frozen you in place when you walked out of the hospital with Sukuna to transfer to the other facility. Thankfully Sukuna had made sure he had a firm grip on your hand, ensuring you kept moving where he shoved you into a waiting car. 

“Welcome to my life,” he’d chuckled, causing you to burst out laughing, both of you in tears by the time you pulled into the outpatient facility from Sukuna’s unfiltered comments on the topic. 

You both needed it. 

The memory fades in an instant as you come back to the present. 

His suggestions sound reasonable, although being taken care of by a man goes against all the feminism in your veins. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he interrupts your thoughts. “We’re taking care of each other. My contribution is just financial. Any man worth a shit can do that. But not any woman can be an emotional presence for me.”

Heart thudding in your chest, you feel butterflies cascade through your heart and into your gut. 

Sukuna swallows hard before speaking again, ruby irises gazing into your eyes.

“Now it’s my turn to be vulnerable,” he clears his throat, voice rough with emotion. 

“No laughin’!” he wags his finger at you, pulling a huffed laugh from your chest.

“Truth is, I’ve been injured more times than I can count, but this is the first time I’ve been legitimately shaken. 

“I’m scared. I can’t do it without you…I need you, I need my girlfriend with me.”

His cheeks start to dust with a shade of pink like it’s killing him to say such a thing out loud. 

“I don’t want to do it alone-” 

“I’ll do it,” you respond easily. There’s not a doubt in your mind that this is what’s right. 

“Yeah?” his brows raise along, pulling his mouth with them into a smirk 

Both of you meet in the middle, his arms tugging you close while you bury your face in his chest. 

A part of you feels like you’re in this predicament because you wouldn’t trust him in the first place. 

You aren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

The traffic begins to thin as the city lights fade away into the distance. Twisting in the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of familiarity before Sukuna’s truck finds one final curve in the highway that obscures the high rises for good. 

Swallowing hard, you drag your eyes back to the front, glancing over at Sukuna in the driver’s seat. He looks relaxed but subdued, jaw rolling with what you hope is gum while his eyes stay trained on the road. A plaid flannel is cuffed just below his elbows, one arm on the wheel and the other splayed out over your thigh. 

Maybe he notices you looking back because he gives you a light squeeze, like a silent gesture of support. There was no reason to beat a dead horse and speak it aloud; he already knew you were scared. In his words, he had to man up and take good care of you like you have been all this time.

Deep down you knew he would. You wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.

“Should be another two hours,” his deep voice breaks the silence. “Need me to stop for anything? Won’t be too much between here and there.”

The buildings are beginning to thin out, but you think you should be good until you get to his place. You’d gone to the bathroom and eaten lunch not long ago.

“I’m good, unless you wanna stop?”

“Nope.”

Well that settles it. At least he asked.

Looking to pass the time, you open your phone to Tiktok and what you find makes your heart drop.

Staring back at you is a photo of you from high school, an unattractive one at that, spliced next to one of Sukuna and his supermodel ex-girlfriend.

You knew this moment was coming. Sukuna had put out a video earlier this morning announcing his hiatus from the rodeo world for the foreseeable future. Rodeo fans and participants alike had been waiting with baited breath for word on the star’s condition and next steps.

Sukuna also, with your permission, had announced his relationship with you and urged people to respect his and your privacy during this time while he continued to heal and recover. 

Wishful thinking, but his PR team needed him to cover his bases with his blanket statement. 

The video you came across was some pop culture influencer who must do deep dives on stuff like this because this was clearly a comparison video on the new woman in Sukuna’s life versus the one of old.

Shutting the volume off, you read the subtitles as best you can.

Clearly he was going a different direction in the looks department.

Not the model type.

Very bland and ordinary.

Gold digger?

Some fans of the previous couple are furious, truly believing they would come back together after time apart.

Then piles of photos of you from college in very risque outfits with your friends’s faces blurred out thankfully. 

Critiquing everything.

Your style, career, makeup, body, face…everything!

How the hell did she even have all this?

Your face heats up with embarrassment, eyes stinging with humiliation washing over you. It hadn’t seemed all that bad when Sukuna and his PR team had talked to you earlier, but seeing it in real time, your entire persona being ridiculed in front of millions, was so hurtful.

And the comments, while there were plenty of kind and supportive ones, you couldn’t help but focus on the negative.

He had to have gotten her pregnant to be with someone like this.

Is he purposely trying to tarnish his reputation?

The downgrade needs to be studied.

Must’ve been a helluva head injury.

8 billion people on this earth and he chose this over Olivia.

Imagine being gifted a Bentley and choosing to take the Honda instead.

She’s chopped.

She’s the one on his dick every night so…

The last one made you laugh, although you haven’t been on his dick since before the accident. They don’t need to know that though! 

Did he finally fall victim to a buckle bunny?

Your face twists in confusion. Buckle bunny?

You’ll look into it later, deciding instead to move on from this video.

Except for one more swipe doesn’t help at all as a montage of Sukuna and Olivia on some tropical vacation with very intimate poses assaults your eyes. Then you see it’s from her account. She posted these. On purpose…with a one word caption.

Reminiscing. 

You dry heave out of nowhere, loudly dropping your phone between the seat and the door. Your hand catches something wet before what you assume is your lunch spurts out in chunks onto his floor mats.

“Woah!” Sukuna barks, slamming on the brakes and pulling into an empty parking lot that just happened to grace your presence. 

You don’t even respond, violently flinging the door open and barely getting far enough away to puke your guts out onto some poor flower bed.

“Jesus, are you okay?!” Sukuna is at your side in an instant, engine still running. He must have gotten out without shutting it off. His words are drowned out thanks to a buzzing sound in your ears and the banging of your own heart against your ribcage.

His hand rests on your back as you spit out the residual contents, sputtering and coughing. Your throat is on fire, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. The flowers below you are blurring in and out of focus, making you stumble without warning.

Thankfully Sukuna grabs you in time, pulling you against his sturdy body just in time for you to let out another load of vomit all over his boots.

He doesn’t even react, surely they’ve seen worse.

Your nose is running now, snot mixing with the nasty substance smeared across your chin. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, both from physical and mental pain. Your throat feels like you’re swallowing knives, so the sobs coming out are stuttery and choppy at best.

If only the online world could see you now, if they thought you were ugly then, you must look absolutely disgusting in the present.

“Was it my driving? Did I make you car sick? Lunch?” Sukuna is fretting about trying to figure out what happened. He tries to pull your face up to his, but you fight him, suddenly embarrassed of him seeing you.

What if he feels the same way as the people online? An asinine thought, but you are traumatized right now after seeing all those comments about you plus your boyfriend looking barely decent with his ex.

“No,” you gasp, finally starting to regain your composure after all that. “It’s nothing, m’fine-”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me,” Sukuna interupts. “And look at me for gods’ sake!”

“No! I look hideous,” you try to evade him which is comical because he’s a tank compared to you.

“Prettiest puker I ever saw,” he scoffs, caging you against him so you can’t run. He jerks your head to face him, forcing your chin to twist his way. “Now stop bumblin’ around like a damn newborn calf and look at me.”

His crimson eyes meet yours, brows furrowed and lips pursed slightly as he tries to figure out what the hell you are carrying on about. 

There’s no use arguing, so you just point to the truck, letting him drag you back over. 

“Saw some shit online. It upset me, made me have a panic attack or something,” you mumble, climbing back into your seat while Sukuna stands next to you. Even in his lifted truck, he still towers over you.

“Gimme,” he holds his hand out, tattooed wrist flexing from the movement. 

Part of you is horrified at the thought of him seeing that stuff. Not just the things about you, but him seeing old pictures with the woman of his past. Would he miss it, thinking about her and him doing things like that? You already feel inferior at times, you might keel over and die if you saw him react positively to those.

“It was the one on the screen, and then the one before it,” you can’t look at him as you pass him your phone. Sukuna leans one arm against the side of the truck while unlocking your phone with the other. 

You’re surprised to find a lack of emotion and no reaction to the pictures of himself and Olivia that he’s seeing. The only indication of a response is a clench of his jaw and a very subtle wrinkle of his brow.

He swipes up to the other video about you specifically. Still no reaction, just watching silently. Now you are starting to worry, why is he saying nothing? No faces, no grunts or hums, just watching. 

“Mkay, wanna talk while I drive?” he finally speaks, handing the phone back to you.

“Um, yeah. Lemme freshen up first,” you answer, grabbing a water bottle from the cup holder and swishing it around in your mouth. The cold is soothing on your flaming gums, swallowing some for good measure to ease the burn in your throat.

“Gum?” Sukuna hands you a pack once he sits back down, shutting his door.

“Thanks. Couldn’t tell if you were dipping or chewing on this earlier,” you say, popping a piece into your mouth. The sharp minty flavor makes you forget all the disgusting contents from moments ago.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

“No, I was not dipping. I like being able to kiss my girlfriend,” he muses, checking to make sure your seatbelt is on before he puts the truck in drive.

You laugh back, remembering telling him you wouldn’t kiss him if a wad of chew had been in his mouth recently. Apparently that was all the motivation he needed to kick the habit. You’d witness him practically crash out when you refused to let him kiss you while you were having sex one night because he wasn’t thinking and packed a lip once he got out of the shower.

“Guess I’ll just have to find someone else to eat me out one day when you inevitably get some kind of mouth disease from this,” you’d teased, making the man’s face burn red from his nose to the tips of his ears.

“Shut the fuck up, don’t even joke about that,” he scoffed, but you’d gotten your point across. Not a can of Skoal to be found whenever you see him now.

Sukuna’s husky voice takes you back.

“Okay that one you saw with me ‘n her? My own stomach turned, that’s fuckin’ insane, gonna fuckin’ kill her. I don’t wanna dwell on it, but I’m so so sorry you had to see that,” his voice is low, hands gripping the wheel like he’s going to crush it, knuckles tense and white. He’s clearly pissed. 

“I mean, if I saw something like that with you? Shit, I’d be serving life for murder charges, so you having a panic attack is more than warranted. Send that video to me-”

“What? You want it??” your voice cracks.

“I’m sendin’ it to my lawyer, relax. I don’t wanna watch that shit,” he quickly reassures you, hand darting back out to grab yours. Sukuna threads your fingers in his, then pulls them to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the back of your hand. 

“I love you,” his crimson eyes pierce your own gaze burning a hole in your forehead. “Not her, not anyone else, you. I’d make a fuckin’ movie with you if you wanted, but if anyone else ever saw it I’d gouge their fuckin’ eyes out.”

“Sukuna! You are being really violent right now,” you gasp. Sukuna merely shrugs, unbothered.

“I don’t wanna do that anyways. It just sucks that so many other people are gonna see you like that…” your voice trails off.

Sukuna sighs loudly, kissing the back of your hand again. 

“I know. That’s why I’m gonna get it taken down. Just know you’re the only one who gets the real thing, you’ve seen these desperate women lust over me. They can look, but can’t touch. Touching is reserved for you only.”

“As for the other shit, ignore it. The gossip influencers are insufferable. They can go dig up anything on people who are willing to sell information. Unfortunately it’ll never end, but just know it’s a bunch of fuckin’ losers who make a living on stirring up drama and sayin’ shit that ain’t true,” he continues, resting your conjoined hands on the center console.

“I think you’re the most beautiful fuckin’ woman both inside and out,” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re the one I want helping me continue to get better. You’re the one I dreamed about when I was in the coma, the one whose presence, scent, and touch was familiar and comforting even though I didn’t remember you yet. The body keeps score, and there was no one else it reacted to that way.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, replacing the panic that was ricocheting just moments before. Hearing it worded like that, what doubt could you even have?

He tips your chin up one final time, ensuring you hear what he says.

“When you are struggling, just remember all of what I just said. I still struggle at times. This life isn’t easy to adjust to, you will waver, and I won’t judge you when you do. One day, there will be some story doing the same thing to me, some picture of you out with a guy friend or family member saying you’ve gotten over me or somethin’. But I’ll always come back to this, to remember you were the woman who stayed by my side when I looked at her like a stranger. She loved me enough to wait, and I’d be a fool to ever believe otherwise.”

Fuck, he’s right. The gruff and rugged cowboy was such a romantic deep down, only you were the one privileged to experience this side of him and hear him speak such words.

“I’ll delete my social media for a while, let the hype die down,” you decide, now squeezing his hand in return. “I guess I’ll truly go off the grid while staying with you in your mountain abode.”

Sukuna gives you his signature grin, quickly glancing your direction.

“Atta girl.”

He restarts the truck and a comfortable silence settles in now that your anxiety is assuaged for now. The landscape outside has started changing, more evergreen trees and rocky hillsides are replacing the flat, grassy plains that were outside the city.

“Am I a buckle bunny?” you go back to that strange phrase from earlier, breaking the silence.

Sukuna spits out his drink, starting to cough loudly. For a moment you are worried he’ll lose control of the truck, but he seems to recompose himself.

“Why the hell are you asking me that?” he bursts out laughing, just confusing you even more.

“What??” you snap back, getting annoyed that he’s giving you nothing. “I kept seeing comments calling me one.”

With one more dramatic clearing of his throat, Sukuna finally speaks.

“No, you definitely aren’t one. They’re basically groupies for rodeo cowboys. Usually some fake country girls trying to follow around and fuck the winners, cuz we win the big belt buckles. So that’s where the name comes from.”

This makes you huff out a laugh now, certainly not you in the slightest.

“If anything I was trying to get away from the winning rodeo cowboy,” you tease, watching Sukuna roll his eyes and shake his head.

“Oh trust me, I’m aware woman,” he scoffs and you leave it at that.

Gravel crunches under the tires the further Sukuna’s truck travels down the unpaved driveway you’ve been on for the past few minutes. You’d been in what seemed to be the downtown area briefly before turning off onto a side road, crossing a stream, and then winding through the thick forest of pine trees. Their heavy canopy prevents some of the sunlight from breaking through, casting an almost gloomy feel over the area.

The truck bumps and jostles, making your stomach churn with discomfort. It reminds you a little of Shoko’s parents’ place you visited last summer, except for that it was a very flat, open area as opposed to this more mountainous terrain.

Finally the vehicle breaks free from the wooded area to find sunlight breaking through the clouds above. What appears on the other side is a picturesque scene that you might find in a national geographic documentary.

The landscape opens up into a valley, the once flat ground now spanning in both directions until it climbs up the sharp, rugged mountains that rise high above the land. Tall grasses billow in the breeze and a crystal clear stream cuts through the sea of vegetation. A barbed wire fence begins to parallel the driveway and in the distance, you see black figures dotting the pasture.

“Are those animals?” you ask, eyes glued to the beautiful scene being framed by the windows.

“They’re cows,” Sukuna answers simply, fingers beginning to tap on the steering wheel. “Should just be another few minutes. Gonna go by my place first and get settled, then we’re having dinner at my dads’ with Jin’s family.”

“Oh do they all live nearby?”

“Mhmm, my dad’s subdivided his land over time to give him and I our own plots. We’re all about a five minute drive from each other.”

You nod in return, leaving it at that. Sukuna’s family had all come out to see him while he was recovering, but you’d been back at home at the time, so you never met any of them. Sukuna was never shy about telling you about his family, so you at least had a good idea about each person who was important to him.

Sukuna came from a long lineage of ranchers of whom Wasuke, his father, was the most recent. His older brother, Jin, took care of the business side of the ranch while Wasuke was more of the day to day operations. Sukuna said Jin had gone to college for agricultural business while Sukuna had always planned to follow in his father’s footsteps, never having been one for sitting up in an office all day. Jin was more of the family man of the two, having gotten married young to his wife, Kaori. Together they have a young son, Yuji, who Sukuna has only described as hell on wheels.

That’s about all you know, so you are quite curious about the family you are going to meet. After being with Sukuna for a while, you aren’t as nervous about meeting more people like him, but you are more worried about what they will think of you. Sukuna had been hard enough to win over by himself and now you had two more presumably grumpy men from his genealogy to contend with.

“We’re here,” Sukuna’s voice interrupts your thoughts, letting the worry fade away for the moment just for a gasp to leave your lips when you get a look at his home.

It’s gorgeous, the perfect mix of modern and rustic with a view that people would likely pay millions for. The river and valley you’d been following along the drive lay between the home and a panoramic view of the mountains that leaves you speechless. A wrap around wooden deck draws you in, knowing you’ll want to see where it leads as soon as you are settled. 

The wooden siding of the home matches that of the tree trunks surrounding you, meshing beautifully with clean, black steel framing the windows and flashes of stonework accenting the wood. The man has money and seems to have spent a pretty penny designing something that so perfectly matches the landscape while also standing out at the same time.

“Your home is incredible,” you force out, sliding off the lifted truck seat and landing on the gravel driveway at your feet.

“Yeah? Gets your seal of approval?" he grunts, rounding the tailgate to stand behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Ugh, yes? What kind of question is that?” you whip around, lightly slapping his hip.

Sukuna’s mouth curves in amusement, trying to suppress a grin.

“Thought my city girl would be put off by a lack of concrete,” he hooks his thumbs through his belt loops, standing tall above you with that playful glint in his eye. 

A sudden rush of heat floods your face, something about the way he towers over you with his jeans tight on his hips has you feeling flustered. Maybe it’s also the way he looks right at home in such an environment, like the general surroundings compliment his demeanor so well, accentuating the rugged charm he exudes.

“Shut up,” you huff, stepping around him before you get light headed. “I’m hungry, let’s keep this moving.”

“Whatever you say dear,” he hums, following behind you and digging in his pockets to find his keys. 

Once you get inside, the interior is just as stunning. Stonework and wooden beams are intermixed with the sleek, black finishes throughout the open floor plan, complete with vaulted ceilings and a fantastic view of the mountains through floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the living space. 

“For you,” Sukuna appears at your side, handing you a key. “For the house, and another for my spare car in the garage.”

“Oh?” you glance up, catching his crimson gaze before being caught off guard by his unbuttoned shirt and his rugged physique. 

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him like this considering he’s been holed up in the hospital and outpatient skilled nursing facilities. In fact, this feels like the first moment you’ve had to yourselves in ages.

“It’s good to be home,” his deep voice rumbles and as if reading your mind, he pulls you into his chest, letting yourself press your cheek against his pecs. Inhaling his scent, it’s still not all him, muddled with unfamiliar detergent and sharp with medical disinfectant. The warmth of his skin makes you stay, noticing the ridges of his muscles are not as defined from so much time away from training. 

Your arms snake around his hips, sliding under his shirt and digging your fingers into his lower back. Both of you stay enmeshed in the other’s arms; he feels safe and grounding for you in this new environment.

Sukuna’s heart starts to beat faster against your cheek. You decide to toy with him to see what happens, dragging your fingernail along his skin before dipping down just below his waistband. Like you suspected, the thrumming speeds up as his body tenses just enough for you to notice. 

“How’re you feeling?” you tip your head to look up at him, the question genuine. Today has been a long one without much rest and he’d been driving the last few hours. He tends to get very tired mentally compared to the average person doing everyday tasks.

Sukuna sighs, walking you both backwards to his couch, pulling you down with him. You squeak when he positions you in his lap, letting you straddle his hips. 

“My head is killing me,” he drags a hand through his hair. “Driving was probably not a good idea.”

The doctors had said to be cautious when driving. The brain is constantly making micro decisions when doing so and Sukuna’s is still not in decent shape. It’s a more stimulating activity than people realize.

“Let me get your meds,” you plant a quick kiss on his cheek, rolling off to the side. 

Sukuna reluctantly lets you go, hinting at how bad he must be feeling. 

“Why don’t you go lay down and I’ll bring them to you,” you tug at his hand. 

Sukuna just groans in response, but the creaking of the floor indicates he’s making moves. You hear his heavy footsteps trudging down the hall as you start to rifle through one of his bags, finding the pills the doctor gave you for his headaches.

Quickly finding a glass from the kitchen cabinet, you fill it up and then head towards the room which you presume is his bedroom.

Except now it’s your bedroom too? It still feels strange to be shacking up with a man. Even though you’ve had roommates for all of your adult life, you’ve never permanently shared a bed with a significant other for more than a week as part of a vacation. 

You come to find his bedroom as just as grand of a view as the rest of the house. The jagged snow capped mountains frame the valley floor just outside another set of floor to ceiling windows complete with blackout shades that seem to lower and raise via a remote mounted to the side of the wall.

His furniture matches that of the rest of the space with a black matte bedframe centered on the wall opposite the windows.

Sukuna is sprawled out across the blankets, eyes covered by his heavy forearm. 

You rush to get the shades drawn, knowing the light is likely causing immense discomfort. Soon a gentle glow illuminates everything from the recessed lighting. 

“There’s a dimmer on that remote too,” Sukuna groans, holding his hand out where you drop it in his palm.

“Sit up for a moment,” you command, earning an annoyed growl from your boyfriend who reluctantly listens. He takes the water and throws back the pills before immediately falling back onto the mattress.

“Gimme like an hour, then we can go over to my dads’,” Sukuna exhales before turning the lights out altogether. 

“Can you play with my hair?” he whispers so softly you almost missed it.

“You know no one else can hear you,” you tease, stifling a giggle.

“Shut up!” 

Positioning yourself against his headboard, he scoots himself up so the wild strands of his pink locks brush against your legs before dropping his head down on your lap. He lets out a contented sigh when your fingers start to scratch lightly along his scalp. Maybe if you focus really hard, you can impart some relief through your fingertips and into his skull.

You’re careful not to tug at any knots that have formed throughout the day, not wanting to make it worse. At times your hand brushes lower against the stubble on his cheeks, caressing them gently with your palms. His breathing starts to slow, head getting heavier on your thighs once he presumably starts to fade out.

Your heart feels full just being here with him. Even though you are nowhere close to marriage, your relationship has surely been put through the “in sickness and in health” gauntlet here in recent history. You genuinely want to help him, want to try as hard as you can to bring him comfort and relief. You’d do anything for him during this time, and even though he hasn’t come flat out and said it, you can see the look of disappointment in his eye as he falls lower and lower in the Pro Bull Rider ranking on account of not competing. 

You’re sure a lot of his self worth and satisfaction hinges on how well he competes. Seeing as he dissects his past rides and views them under a microscope, he’s always trying to be better and improve. Surely he’d give himself some grace at dropping in the standings due to no fault of his own.

Either way, you know you love him without a shadow of a doubt. Neither of you has said it since that night in the hospital courtyard, but the heat in your chest whenever you look at him has never subsided and neither have the butterflies erupt each time his skin brushes against yours.  

However, there is a twinge of uncertainty that creeps into your mind when you’re alone with your thoughts…that maybe he wasn’t in his right mind back then. Maybe he’ll wake up and experience an epiphany that he doesn’t actually love you after all. Like you, it’s not like he’s ever spoken those words again even though his actions seem consistent with the phrase.

Only time will tell.

“Unc-Kuna!” a high pitched voice chants once you and Sukuna get out of his truck. A small boy that looks like the younger image of your boyfriend is bounding across the yard as a screen door slams shut behind him.

“What’d I say about slamming the door!” a gruff voice calls from within, but it seems to do nothing to deter the child that has now wrapped himself around Sukuna’s leg.

“Hey Yuji, doin’ okay?” Sukuna reaches down and ruffles the boy’s pink hair.

“Finally!” a man who looks exactly like Sukuna if he was saddled with fatherhood appears on the expansive front porch.

It must be Jin, his older brother and Yuji’s father.

“Is this your girlfriennnnd?” Yuji drawls, turning to face you with a large smile. 

“Yes brat,” Sukuna introduces you, making Yuji unlatch himself and scamper over to peer up at you with curiosity.

“You look too clean to be a cowgirl,” Yuji finally spits out, dragging a surprised chuckle from your chest. Are all these Itadori boys born with the instinct to shit on your kind?

“Too pretty to be with someone like Unc-Kuna!” he follows up, causing you to burst into laughter.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Sukuna growls, dragging Yuji back by the collar to give you space.

“Just cuz like, your shoes and pants are all dirty,” Yuji points at Sukuna’s boots that have clearly seen a lot.

“Tch, seems like you aren’t workin’ hard enough if your clothes don’t look like mine,” Sukuna snaps back, reaching for your hand to guide you towards the front door. 

“So nice to finally meet you, I’m Jin, and it seems like you already met my son, Yuji,” Jin smiles as he gestures out to Yuji who is inspecting a hole in the yard now.

“Likewise, I’ve heard a lot about you,” you answer, nerves beginning to bubble up now that you are entering Sukuna’s domain. 

Jin begins asking you all kinds of questions about your life, dragging you off to some outdoor seating area while Sukuna takes his leave inside. 

“Kaori! Come outside!” Jin hollers into an open window. A black haired woman appears quickly, wiping her hands on an apron that is littered with stains.

“Oh my gosh she’s real,” Kaori exclaims. “I’m sorry, I’d shake your hand but mine are a bit sticky from helping Wasuke make dinner.”

“I’m real?” you ask, not sure what she meant by that.

“Ah yes! Didn’t mean for that to sound negative, just that for almost the past year Sukuna’s been dropping us crumbs about a girl he really likes that he met in Cheyenne.”

“The past year??” you gasp, shocked that Sukuna was so into you all this time. Now you feel a little guilty for being so difficult.

“Exactly my thoughts as well,” Jin confirms. “He’s never talked about a woman the way he talks about you. Sure he was grouchy about you being from the city which, by the way, doesn’t matter to us at all, but then he would get super talkative, sharing all about your life and your accomplishments.”

Aw, that’s really sweet. Of course he did always seem to show interest when it was just the two of you, but it surprises you to hear that he talked so highly of you to his family. Talking with Jin and his wife starts to quell your fears about this evening given how kind and welcoming they are being.

Insane that this man is related to the famous rodeo star that acts like he has a stick up his butt more often than not.

“Are you gonna let her come inside or what?” Sukuna barks from the front door, startling you.

“Excuse us for taking advantage of this historic moment little bro,” Jin responds with a cheeky grin that is very reminiscent of Sukuna’s.

“Historic moment…” Sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “There’s nothing historic about -”

“It is because you’ve never brought a woman back to our hometown! Must mean she’s special huh?” Kaori chimes in with an enthusiastic nod from her husband. With that, a red hue spreads across Sukuna’s cheeks. Even your own heat up at such an admission.

“Okay, we’re going inside to meet Dad,” Sukuna sidesteps the comment, grabbing your wrist and dragging you towards the front door.

“Aww, I’m the first Kuna?” you tease the man, taking pleasure and watching the way his eye twitches.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” his mouth twitches followed by a sudden pinch on your ass.

“Ow!” you squeal, pinching him right back, causing him to accidentally crash into a rocking chair, knocking it against the side of the house.

“Good lord, just a simple touch like that and you’re tripping over yourself,” you snicker quietly as Sukuna glares at the furniture, trying to put it back in place. 

“Shut up woman,” he mutters, walking away to hold the door open for you.

Stepping inside, you notice this home is much more rustic than Sukuna’s. It seems older, floorboards more creaky, shelves dustier, and in general more lived in.

Makes sense considering Sukuna is on the road for months on end. Plus this is a working farm after all.

Passing through the kitchen, a large, farmhouse style table is all set up for dinner off to the side. Sukuna continues towards the back door, sliding it open. You are met with the smell of meat grilling and what must be his father tending to it.

“Dad,” Sukuna grunts, watching as the man lowers the grill hood, setting down the utensils.

Now this man wears the same scowl and furrowed brow as Sukuna, deep red eyes studying you carefully with a much more intense stare than Jin and his family.

“This is my girlfriend,” Sukuna says your name, hand falling to the small of your back. Your whole body starts trembling all of a sudden under the judgmental eye of Wasuke Itadori. Maybe he isn’t as convinced as Kaori and Jin are.

Wasuke doesn’t say anything, instead letting his eyes drag over you from head to toe as if analyzing every inch of you.

“Hmm, nice to meet you,” his gruff voice finally says, not really easing any of the tension. “You better not be following my son around just because of his fame.”

Ah, there it is. A cold sweat starts to bead down your neck and shoulders at the insinuation.

“With all due respect Mr. Itadori, it was your son who pursued me,” you respond. “He isn’t really my type.”

Wasuke doesn’t react and for a moment, you’re scared you went too far. You just met the man for god’s sake! 

Finally the old man’s lips crack into a smirk, emitting a hearty chuckle. Your shoulders sag, relieving the tension you didn’t even realize they were harboring.

“He is very persistent when he sets his mind to something,” Wasuke muses, earning a scowl from Sukuna, but he doesn’t object.

“He taking good care of you?” he continues.

“Oh yes! Sukuna is very generous. Even though we don’t see each other much, he always calls and keeps in touch. He’s a good man and boyfriend,” you answer truthfully.

“Hmph, good. Thought he might’ve been too focused on the rodeos to split his attention.”

“What the fuck Dad, I ain’t that pathetic,” Sukuna jumps in.

“You better not be,” Wasuke quips before looking directly at you. 

“His mother and my wife passed when he was just getting good at this, and all she asked was that I raise our boys to be good men and partners. They could be tough country boys, but they better treat their women with respect. Looks like Jin got more of the latter, while Sukuna here seems to be all tough and masculine with little of-”

“That’s not fuckin’ true!” Sukuna interrupts with a bark, fists clenched at his sides.

His father just gives him an amused look, leaning back and crossing his arms while Sukuna clears his throat as if attempting to settle himself down after the sudden outburst.

“I was saving it up for one that mattered, someone like her,” he mutters, grabbing the back of his neck, unable to meet your gaze. A fierce blush dashes across the one cheek you are able to see.

Aww, your big bad cowboy is embarrassed being vulnerable in front of daddy.

“Hmph, is that so?” Wasuke chuckles, turning to seek your response.

Instead of responding immediately, you move to Sukuna’s side, wrapping one arm around his lower back while threading the fingers of your other hand into his calloused ones. At first he stiffens, but quickly relaxes into your touch, letting your cheek rest against his bicep.

“I don’t know what he was like before I met him, with all due respect I’d never even heard of him. No offense Kuna,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his arm. 

“None taken, you weren’t missin’ much,” his voice rumbles.

“I wanted to hate him, but I just couldn’t make it happen. Truth is, I love your son Mr. Itadori.”

Sukuna’s hand tightens around yours, squeezing it so hard you fear he’s going to crush your bones.

“Damn woman, it’s like that huh?” Sukuna’s face is beet red and you can’t deny you are enjoying his discomfort. Clearly Wasuke was not the soft and cuddly type and his parenting style didn’t naturally trend that way.

Wasuke bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking from the force. Sukuna looks like he wants to curl up and die but his arms wrapping around you and pulling you against him say otherwise.

“Well whether he says it back or not, I know you mean something to him on account of you being here,” Wasuke declares before turning back to the grill, leaving you and Sukuna to yourselves.

“I better mean something to you, clinging to your side for over a month when you didn’t even remember me for a majority of it,” you tease, shoving your hand into his back pocket to pinch his ass.

“Fuck off, you know I love you, I show it as much as I can,” he grunts in your ear, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“My mom wasn’t in the best health most of my childhood and when you have that hot headed man as your primary parent, ‘I love you’ isn’t a big part of the vocabulary,” he continues, steering you back into the house, plopping you both down on a couch in the family room.

“I didn’t know that stuff about your mom,” you turn to him, curling into his chest as he slides his arm around you.

“Oh that? Yeah, honestly she was ill for so much of my life, I got used to it. Watching the way my dad lived by taking care of her and busting his ass day in and day out on the farm was mind blowing now that I look back on it,” Sukuna tips his head back against the couch.

Thinking back to the gruff man from just a few moments ago, it surprises you to imagine him taking care of his sick wife. He didn’t seem to have a soft edge to him.

“Was your mom like him?” you wonder out loud, thinking that may have made it easier.

“Hah, not at all,” Sukuna snorts out a laugh. “She was so kind and gentle, maybe in a way they balanced each other out. He worshiped the ground she walked on, he’d be hard pressed to admit it out loud though…”

Even though Wasuke seemed like he would have been a hard ass as a father, maybe his actions rubbed off on his sons more than his words. In a way Sukuna is similar, a lethal maniac of a bull rider with harsh words coming out of his mouth constantly but even from afar he always made sure you felt cherished.

Maybe in a way they weren’t so different after all.

Another question comes to mind, one you lived all too well when you found out Sukuna was hurt.

“Do you think if he’d known she’d die young, he’d have acted differently?” 

Sukuna’s crimson gaze flits back before he glances off to the side, in the throes of thought. 

“I’m not sure. I’d like to think she was used to this version of him and loved him for it…hmph,” he shakes his head.

“Just can’t imagine anyone romantically loving that guy,” he smirks when he notices your confused look before continuing.  

“If he acted out of character, it might've come across as insincere, ya know? I’m sure she could sense his feelings through his actions…”

A hint of the guilt of the past starts to creep into your chest, bringing with it a sour taste in your mouth and a heaviness that lingers as you remember the way you rejected him the morning of his accident.. 

“Stop.”

You jerk your head in the direction of the husky voice. 

“Excuse me?” you force out.

Mouth curling into a grin, Sukuna nods his head sharply, brows lifting to emphasize his words. 

“Quit dwelling on it. I never have and never will hold what happened that morning against you,” his voice is low, hands gripping your wrists before his thumbs rub soothing patterns into your knuckles. 

You swallow hard, trying to force the feeling away. 

“Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanna self sabotage this, finding any excuse to get rid of me,” he clicks his tongue, still sporting his stupid cocky smirk as he leans in closer to your ear.

“Got news for you though darling, not even getting curb stomped by a bull and loosing my fuckin’ mind was enough to deter me,” he whispers, words smooth like velvet, sliding straight to your core on account of the salacious tone and hot breath on your skin.

Attempting to control the shivers running down your legs, you grab at his thigh to ground yourself, not helping your case.

Neither of you have made any moves at the other besides some lewd comments from Sukuna along the way. On your side at least, it feels wrong coming onto a man recovering from a traumatic brain injury. Plus hospitals and rehab facilities weren’t exactly great for getting you in the mood. 

Not being privy to all of his medical discussions and appointments, maybe there was a reason. From your own research, this type of injury could easily affect things like sex and intimacy. The man was horny as fuck when it came to you, so you figured he’d have no issue coming to you when he was ready. 

Sukuna leaves a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling away. 

“Death is the only way I’ll stop loving you-“

“Sukuna!” you squeal, slapping his solid chest that probably hurt you more than him. “Don’t say shit like that!”

“Accept that you’re worthy of me and the psychotic announcements from the recesses of my mind will go away,” he answers, making you burst into a fit of giggles. His strong arm pulls you against him, bringing his own snorts of laughter. 

“Food’s ready lovebirds,” Jin’s announcement makes you jump, but Sukuna’s grip doesn’t let you go far. 

“Sit with me Unkuna," Yuji squeals, diving onto the couch and into Sukuna’s chest.

“Fuck, you’re gettin’ too big to be doin’ all that,” Sukuna grunts, standing up and throwing the child over his shoulder with one arm. 

Yuji dangles against Sukuna’s back, laughing away and waving to you as you follow behind. 

Dinner is a blast, Yuji requested to sit between you and Sukuna but ended up spending most of the meal talking your ear off. He’s a hilarious child, sharing all kinds of stories with his silly comments culminating into declaring you Miss Kuna which Sukuna really didn’t do much of anything to correct. 

After dinner Yuji begs for you to come to the barn to see his horse which terrifies you at first. 

“Oh I dunno Yuji, barns and horses aren’t really my thing-“

“Nonsense MissKuna, I’ll watch out for you. I’ll take care of you!” the boy puffs out his chest while pulling at your hand. 

You glance over at Sukuna who merely shrugs. 

“I’ll come with you,” Kaori comes to your rescue. Useless men! 

“Hold her hand tight now, she gets a little uneasy when there’s no concrete,” Sukuna calls out from the couch, one foot propped up on his knee sipping on a glass of what you assume is whiskey. 

You throw a middle finger over your shoulder, earning a roar of laughter from your boyfriend. 

“Come on Yuji, I’m glad I’ve got a real man coming with me!” you say loudly, marching out the front door with your little posse.

Sukuna watches you leave, the screen door slamming in your wake as you disappear into the fading evening light. 

You’re so cute, he’ll never stop teasing you. Especially not when you respond like that. He has to take a swig of his drink to reset his face so he’s not grinning like a fool when his dad and brother join him after putting the leftover food away. 

“Need a top off?” Wasuke asks before he sits. 

“Nah, leave it though, I’ll need it in a bit,” Sukuna answers, feeling the lingering sharpness from the alcohol in his throat. 

“I know you hate me asking, but how are you feeling?” Jin asks. 

Sukuna’s first response is to retort with something snarky, but even his father looks on expectantly, so he lets it go. 

“I’m okay. Not great, but not nearly as bad as a few weeks ago,” Sukuna responds, recalling how not that long ago he had to practice menial tasks like driving and brushing his teeth among other things. Apparently even the most basic skills had to be verified because the body’s muscle memory wasn’t always as quick to bounce back. 

Even though it’s funny now, he had accidentally choked on his toothbrush from shoving it too far in his mouth. 

Equal parts humbling and humiliating. 

“My head hurts really easily. Like doing something simple like driving must be so many micro decisions and observations that it constantly just tires me out.”

“Oh wow, I never considered such a thing!” Jin’s eyes widen. 

“Yeah, I drove us up here and had to lay down for an hour before coming over. Felt like hell-“

“Can she drive?” Jin asks.

“Well yeah, but she shouldn’t have to. I wanna do that shit for her. She shouldn’t have to take care of me constantly,” Sukuna feels himself getting agitated. 

“Ryo, its okay to relax, you had a traumatic injury-“

“But it’s our job to man up and tough it out!” Sukuna raises his voice, frustration bubbling over. He hasn’t been able to share his true deeper feelings with anyone. At times he let it slip to Toji, but never to you. 

“Do you know how shitty it felt for weeks being unable to do anything, looking so pathetic in front of your girl? Not even remembering her while she looks at you like you’re some fragile artifact?” 

The truth was, being told he had a girlfriend with nothing but a blank slate was scarier than the actual injury. When he would look at you in those early days, his whole body felt like a tornado of feelings that he couldn’t organize and when you spoke, it was like his veins were conveying turbulent hot water.  

But until he recalled more, he had nothing to show for it. Even now he’ll randomly remember bits and pieces of his life with you. Even though all the important parts have been safely restored, it bothers him that there’s secrets no matter how small they may be just floating around in his brain that he can’t access unless fate allows. It’s unsettling that something vitally important could’ve not been unlocked yet, but he would hope you would’ve brought it up by now.

“Of course not, I can’t fathom what you must’ve gone through Ryo,” Jin counters. Sukuna knows he means well, he’s always been the kind hearted and caring brother. Apparently Jin had been frantically trying to come see him when he first got hurt, and he was on the phone with Sukuna daily once he regained consciousness. 

Sukuna hated his family fretting over him, but deep down he felt cared for, and it meant a lot to him.

“She wants to help you bro. Let her,” Jin’s voice rises an octave, almost begging.

“She put you up to this shit?” Sukuna snaps, feeling his blood start to run hot.

“No man, just trying to talk some god damn sense into you since no one else will,” his brother shakes his head. “It’s so obvious how she cares about you, helping fix your plate, grabbing your favorite sauces from the fridge, paying attention to all the little things like it’s already hard wired into her…”

Sukuna instinctively stiffens, clenching his jaw like it physically pains him to relinquish some control back to you by choice. When he’d been laid up in the hospital, having you hovering all over him wasn’t by request given his condition. Right now though? He didn’t feel all helpless and pathetic, so it was harder to let himself take a step back. 

“Is she the one?” his father’s voice almost startles him, interrupting the bickering.  

Sukuna stares at him blankly, trying to understand, his father is never really one for giving input on romantic matters. 

“The what?”

“The one. You still passing time, or are you done looking?“

“Nah, she’s it for me,” Sukuna quickly answers. “I know it seems fast, but I’ve never been so sure of something…” 

“Then be a man and fuckin’ relax. She’s your partner, act like it,” Wasuke’s tone is harsh, crossing his arms while Sukuna and his brother stare at this rare version of their dad. 

“Marriages aren’t a static division of roles. Some days it’s 90-10, other days it’s 10-90. Sometimes it’s long stretches of one or the other,” Wasuke continues, eyes softening for a moment when they glance at the family photo including his mother. 

“I’m not married,” Sukuna says flatly. 

“You stupid man,” Wasuke emits a flat laugh. “Son you just said she’s it, at this point it doesn’t matter if there’s a ring or not. You better treat her right because from what I’ve seen, you’d be a fool to let that slip away.” 

The next few weeks are uneventful. Being away from prying eyes and living a slower life for the first time in years is strange at first. Sukuna was used to being on the go nonstop, never being able to truly get settled as he hopped from event to event whether it be competing, training, or sponsorship related.

Every day he helps his father with the farm chores. Him and Yuji have been patrolling the property boundaries fixing broken stretches of fence that Wasuke hasn’t been able to get to. The farm hands have been heavily focused on getting the cattle ready for slaughter, so things like this have fallen by the wayside.

It was perfect however for Sukuna in his recovering state. Minimal brain power needed to re-string some barbed wire and when not doing that, he could enjoy the scenery and spend time with his nephew.

He liked teaching Yuji things. Sukuna felt like the child spent too much time indoors, so getting him out and about would make him a more well rounded man one day. 

He’s shown him how to spot broken wire between posts from atop the horse and then how to splice another piece in to reconnect the strands. 

He could identify birds by their songs, pointing them out to the boy, going so far as to bring his binoculars each day to better view them. 

Sukuna showed Yuji how to study what the fish were eating before rigging up his fly fishing rod. If fish were coming to the surface of the water, he’d set up a dry cast, letting the bait float on top of the water to imitate bugs not going underwater. 

If not, he’d study what was just below the surface and adjust the line weights to ensure the bait fell just deep enough to where the fish were biting. Sukuna explained to Yuji that the season also mattered to match the bait up to the life cycles of whatever the fish were eating. 

Yuji was easily fascinated, willing to soak up anything his uncle could tell him. His uncle was one of the smartest cowboys he knew after all. As much as the child irritated Sukuna at times, he enjoyed the quality time, realizing he’s missed out on a lot of Yuji’s life on account of his own hectic lifestyle. 

Sukuna’s favorite thing about this time however was coming home to you every day. 

You were settling into your new routine nicely from what he could tell. He helped you set up one of the spare rooms as your office, securing whatever technical equipment and office furniture you desired. He worked late into the evening to make sure it was all set up for your meetings the next day and the exhaustion out in the field was worth it when he came home that night and saw how happy you were.

Sukuna has never shared his life with a woman like this. Flying you out to see him or vice versa on a weekend felt more like going on a trip than living an established life together. There was no domestic rhythm, no time to learn each other’s quirky habits and silly routines, and every moment felt rushed knowing the clock was ticking until one of you had to leave. 

Each little domestic interaction brought him fulfillment:

He secretly looks forward to his electric toothbrush accidentally spraying toothpaste on your pajamas every night just to watch your brow furrow with faux annoyance. 

The first time you used his oven, you burned a casserole because you didn’t understand the fancy settings. It was so wholesome until you both realized there was no backup food and now Sukuna had to work fast to satiate his hangry girlfriend. 

Sukuna kept tracking mud and dirt into the house on his boots, pissing you off and finally culminating into Sukuna agreeing to use the mud room in the garage instead. In your words, the room literally had one job and why your boyfriend couldn’t use it for its god intended purpose was beyond you. 

He learned your favorite coffee brands, buying your preferred bean grinder and brewing setup. He learned your favorite lunch sandwich, afternoon snacks, and how you liked the thermostat (freezing at night so you could snuggle up to him more, he was sure of it).

It was like every day brought about a new experience for the both of you to share. Sukuna loved them no matter how mundane they appeared.

While he of course misses riding bulls, he could see a world where he is content with this life if he’s never cleared to ride again. 

And if he can, he thinks he’d want to change some things. More time at a home base with you like this, less time on the road, maybe even less sponsorship commitments. 

That is if you want to keep living with him of course. This had all started as you helping take care of him while he heals after all. It seems like you’re enjoying yourself from his perspective though. Sukuna tries so hard to make sure you are content and comfortable, and every time he asks, you assure him that you’re happy. 

Each night you crawl into his bed, resting your head on his bare chest and letting your hand trace the ink down his torso. You spend time talking to each other, usually joking about something from the day that devolves into teasing and flirting before Sukuna shuts off the light. 

This latest night however, you bring up intimacy, something neither of you have discussed in awhile. 

Truthfully, it was the one thing that Sukuna was nervous about. His doctor had explained that once again, sex involves a lot of cognitive and sensory processing that may be lacking as he heals. It could take time to relearn the art of picking up on cues and reactions of a partner, let alone that of recognizing his own limits. 

“Hey, this isn’t me asking, but just sharing that whenever you want to try something physical, or even just want to talk about it, I’m here,” your sweet voice broaches while lying close to him, propped up on your side. You’d just taken a shower and the scent of your soap mixing with the sheets was very comforting. 

Sukuna drags his hand through his hair, trying to push it from his eyes. At bedtime it tended to finally lose its pushed back style, lending its way to a messy, disheveled look. 

Of course he wants to ravish you like he used to, blow your mind over and over until all you could do was pitifully whine out his name while you were a trembling mess beneath him. 

Sukuna props himself up on his side, looking down on your pretty face. 

“Is it bothering you?” he ventures, trying to discern if this was a bigger deal than you were initially letting on. 

“Not at all!” you quickly respond, shaking your head. “Your recovery is most important. I just didn’t want you to think I wasn’t interested is all.”

Sukuna’s throat feels a little lighter, swallowing the lump that had formed and bringing his free hand up to lightly scratch his chest. 

“So you are interested?” he jokes.

He watches as you roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“Of course I am, but I need you to be the one to give the go ahead,” you answer.

Sukuna recalls the conversation with Jin and Wasuke from the first night you both arrived, something he’s been doing constantly since then. 

“I’m just, uh, worried,” he stumbles over his words, earning a head tilt from you, lips pursing slightly. He clears his throat, pathetic that he’s getting all flustered.

“I’m worried because, I mean, I used to be pretty good at it. With you at least. Guess you could say it gave me a bit of an ego knowing I could make it that good for you. And now, it’s like I forgot a lot of that…”

His words trail off, eyes focused on the stitching of the fabric of the quilt bunched up between the two of you. He can’t bear to lift his eyes, admitting such things made him feel like a chunk of his masculinity just got torn off and tossed out the window. 

He feels pressure on his cheek, quickly realizing it’s your hand cradling it. Your skin is soft and smells like something sweet, making Sukuna lean into your touch, craving the comfort it brings.

“Shh, it’s okay,” your voice coos softly. “When you’re ready, we can try. And for the record, I’m not expecting anything. Just closeness and intimacy, whatever that may mean for us at any given time. Whether it’s just cuddling, you rearranging my guts, or something in between. I’ll love it because it’s with you.” 

Your thumb is tracing the black ink along his jaw, rubbing his skin affectionately. He feels safe and secure, once again reassured that giving a part of himself to you is the right thing to do. 

You’re a strong, intelligent, and capable woman who knows how to handle him. It was silly of him to ever doubt your ability to shoulder some of this weight. 

He pulls you tight into his chest, crushing you with a hug. Sukuna wishes he could just fuse you into him, that way he’d feel this all the time. 

“God I love you,” he utters into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

“I love you too Kuna. Always.” 

Thank you so much for your patience and anyone still reading along, thanks for sticking with me! Also happy World Cup szn I love having soccer on all day :D

They are so stinkin' cute they kill me. Cowboy Sukuna has a monopoly on my day dreams these days he's so fine!

Next chapter will be the last, we've come so far and I hope you all have enjoyed. This was admittedly my first time writing a piece without a ton of planning and while I'm happy with how it's gone, I think I prefer the more organized route of pre-writing a story. It was an experiment for myself, so apologies if anything didn't flow nicely as the story progressed.

And then your eyes fall on the guy sitting at the end of the booth, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt, strong jawline. Hair longer and perfectly styled, legs that go on forever. He looks up at you with piercing blue eyes, and your first thought is, who the hell invited Superman’s model cousin?

You blink, pointing rudely. “Uh. Who’s this?”

The whole table goes quiet, then Roy bursts out laughing so hard he chokes on his drink. Donna rolls her eyes like she’s been waiting for this exact moment. Wally leans across the table, grinning wickedly. “You don’t recognize him?”

You stare harder. “Am I supposed to?”

The guy tilts his head, lips curving in the faintest smirk. “Wow. Five years in space and you still can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

That voice is weirdly familiar. Your stomach drops.

“…Dick?”

The table explodes, Roy’s wheezing while Donna’s hiding a smile behind her glass. Wally actually points at you like you’ve just lost a bet.

“Holy shit,” you mutter. “That’s Dick Grayson?”

Because the last time you saw him, he was shorter than you, hair hacked into that tragic little bowl cut, parading around in that ridiculous pixie-boot pantless suit, chirping out corny one-liners like Gotham’s answer to Peter Pan. You lived to roast him. His catchphrases, his hair, his height, nothing was off limits. He’d get all red and sputtery, which only made it funnier.

But this? This isn’t the same kid. This is a man who grew into every inch of himself while you were gone, and now he’s taller than you. Hotter. So much hotter.

Your jaw actually goes slack. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Dick just raises an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of his drink, not even giving you the satisfaction of a smile. “I grew up. Some of us do that.”

Ouch.

You slide into the booth, still staring at him like he’s an alien. “Don’t get me wrong, you look...” you catch yourself, smirking, “way less tragic than before. But, uh… wow. I leave for five years and suddenly you’re on magazine covers?”

“Not really your business, is it?” he says coolly, turning back to his beer.

That hits you like a slap. You’re used to Dick sputtering when you teased him, snapping back, rising to the bait. But this version of him? He doesn’t bite, doesn’t give you anything.

And suddenly, you want him.

Desperately.

Because nothing makes you hungrier than a challenge. And Dick Grayson, the boy you once mocked mercilessly, just became the man who won’t even look your way. You lean across the table, grin sharp. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re still mad I made fun of your haircut. That was years ago. Ancient history.”

Donna coughs pointedly into her drink, Wally kicks Roy under the table, and you sit back, smirking wider.

You’ve never been good at letting something go, especially when it’s standing right in front of you with broad shoulders and arms that look carved out of marble. So the rest of the night at the bar becomes a mission —not galactic peacekeeping, not saving a planet from collapse— no, this one is personal: win Dick Grayson back.

He’s sitting across from you, arms folded, half-listening to Wally ramble about some speedster escapade. You wait for your moment, leaning forward with that easy, reckless grin you perfected over five years of charming aliens out of blowing your ship up.

“So, Dick…” you drawl, deliberately using the name like a hook, “what’s your workout routine these days? Asking for a friend. And by friend, I mean me. Because,” you wave a hand vaguely at his chest, his arms, his everything, “this didn’t exist before. I would’ve remembered.”

Roy groans. “Oh my god.”

But Donna smirks into her glass, watching. Dick doesn’t even flinch. “Lots of training,” he says evenly, eyes not leaving his drink.

“Mm.” You rest your chin on your hand, studying him. “Well, it paid off. Glow-up of the century. You went from Robin Hood Jr. to…” you pause, biting back a laugh, “okay, actually, you kind of look like if James Bond and a Men’s Health cover had a baby.”

That gets Roy choking on his beer again.

Dick finally looks at you, brows raised. “Is this your way of apologizing for being an ass all those years?”

“Apologizing?” you echo, feigning offense. “I was motivating you. Clearly it worked, you’re welcome.”

The table bursts into laughter, but Dick just shakes his head, smirking despite himself. You see it, the tiniest crack in the armor. And you pounce. You slide out of the booth, slipping into the empty space beside him before he can stop you. He stiffens instantly, but you’re already draping an arm along the back of the booth, leaning in close.

“Don’t look so tense,” you murmur, low enough that only he hears. “I missed you. Even when you were short and tragic.”

His head whips toward you, glare sharp. “You don’t get to say that.”

You grin, unbothered, leaning in closer so your shoulder brushes his. “You’re right. I don’t. Not anymore. Now I just get to say,” your eyes flick down, shameless, “damn, Dick.”

Wally whistles. Roy mutters, “She's insane.”

Dick moves just slightly far from you and that causes you a hard chuckle. “Oh, Dickie, I see I still make you nervous.”

The laugh dies around you like someone cut the power. For a beat you think you misread it, that maybe the room’s heat, the beer and the reunion glow made the moment bigger than it was. Then Dick stands, a clean, clipped motion, the chair whispers back, his shoulders set like stone and the joke you just lobbed slams into something that’s not laughing.

“You always were terrible at reading a room,” he says, voice flat. He doesn’t look at you on his way out, he glances at the rest of the table with an economy of disdain that makes Wally shut up mid-quip. 

You do not like being dismissed. You do not like the way his back looks when he leaves, the line of his shoulders pulling away is an insult you refuse to swallow.

“Dick,” you call as you get up, the same half-laugh you’d used when you were trying to make him blush. People are watching, the bar’s hum knitting itself into the space between you two, but it feels irrelevant. You follow him into the hallway where the light is harsher and the music softer.

He’s half through the back door before you catch the handle and push it open. The alley smells like fried food and rain and the city’s tired. It’s quieter, the bar’s laughter is a muffled echo. He leans against the brick, arms crossed, jaw working. When he turns at last, his eyes are hard and cold, very much not the playful glare you remember.

“Hey, what the fuck happened?” You blinked. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?,” he says. “You come back and you treat this like a show. You parade around with cosmic stories and then you parade right through me like I'm a fucking prop.”

“Woah, hey. I just got back, Dick. I don’t know how things have changed, alright? Y’all have been through a lot during these years. I’m just vibing.”

“No, you’re not!” He’s pacing the length of the alley now, hands cutting through the air like knives while his voice ricochets off the brick.

“You don’t get it! You walk in here like some goddamn space cowboy, cracking jokes, flirting with everyone, and then you sit there and objectify me like I’m some… some…”

“Calendar model?” you supply, smug grin sharp as a blade. “Honestly, you’d sell out the second those went to print.”

His head snaps toward you, furious. “Shut the hell up!”

You cross your arms, leaning against the wall, unbothered. “Not my fault you went from pint-sized Peter Pan to Batman’s hottest son. I’m just appreciating the glow-up.”

“You don’t appreciate anything!” he shouts, jabbing a finger at you. “You mock, you provoke, you treat people like toys in your comedy routine. And now you’re doing it to me again. I’m not your punchline anymore. I’m not your damn entertainment!”

“You’re right,” you say, in a deceptively solemn way. “You’re not my punchline. You’re my type.”

That does it. He storms forward so fast you barely register it until you’re pinned against the wall, his hand slamming next to your head with a crack that makes your chest jolt. His face is inches from yours, eyes blazing.

“You are infuriating,” he growls.

“And you’re gorgeous when you’re mad,” you purr, leaning into it, refusing to flinch. “Go on. Tell me more about how much you hate me. Maybe flex a little while you’re at it–”

He cuts you off with his mouth. No warning, just lips crashing into yours, all teeth and fury, stealing the air from your lungs. It’s not gentle. It’s punishment, possession and five years of unspoken tension detonating all at once.

You groan into it, half-laughing, half-dizzy, grabbing his shirt to yank him closer because if he’s going to shut you up, he damn well better commit. His teeth scrape your lip, and you nip back, the kiss turning messy. He tastes like beer and rage. When he finally rips back, almost pushing you against the wall, both of you are breathing hard. His voice is ragged, like he’s regretting kissing you.

“Not. Another. Word.”

You grin, recollecting some of his saliva from your lip with your tongue. “Mmph. Best silencing technique I’ve ever experienced.”

His glare deepens, but his hand is still fisted in your shirt, he’s not ready to let go. “You drive me insane,” he mutters.

“And you kiss like you’re trying to kill me,” you shoot back, smug even through your racing pulse. “I like it.”

He curses under his breath, then crushes his mouth back to yours, rougher, like he’s decided that if he can’t argue with you, he’ll just burn the words out of your throat instead. And God, you let him. Because it feels like war, and you’ve never been more eager to lose.

“You're mean,” he mutters against your mouth, his hands finding your ass to pull you as close as he could.

“I am.” you breath, biting his lip before sliding your tongue deeper in him.

“You treated me like shit when we were young. You practically bullied me.” He kept going, kneading your ass, almost brushing his fingers in your center, but he never really did.

“I did.” You respond breathless, finally feeling all his muscles tight, not letting you go even if you wanted. “But you kiss me like you want me to stay.”

His mouth never leaves yours long enough for air to make sense. Between ragged kisses he drags breath into you like confession and then, impossibly, says it.

“I missed you,” he breathes against your lips, each word a strike. “God, I missed you.”

You freeze for half a heartbeat, the world narrowing to the scrape of his voice and the press of him. Then you laugh and answer with your own foolish honesty pressed to his mouth. “Of course you did. I’m irresistible.”

“Don’t make a fucking joke out of it,” he growls, and it’s not the stern, clipped anger from the alley anymore; it’s something threaded through with ache. He reclaims your mouth like he’s trying to stitch time closed, pressing harder, as if the force of it could erase the five years between you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling at the nape where his hair is softer than you expected. His hands go lower, possessive at your hips, thumbs digging into your waist as if to keep you from floating away. Every movement is an accusation and an apology braided together.

“I don’t want apologies,” he says into the kiss, words muffled, urgent. “I wanted you. Even when you were a fucking bully, I wanted you. Do you know how maddening that was? To hate that I wanted you?”

He doesn't give you time to think about his confession because he starts kissing your neck, sucking skin right there at the alley. You tilt your head back, saying a soft Mmh, as his hands press your sides.

You arch into him, lips parting in a gasp as he grinds closer, and the tension between you explodes into heat. “Fuck, Dick. You really learnt how to kiss these past years.”

He licks your earlobe before going back to your mouth. “Yeah, I had practice.”

You chuckle into his mouth. “You sure did.” You tease, voice breathless, letting your hands roam his back, memorizing every curve, every muscle that’s grown while you were gone.

Dick is acting like a man possessed at this point, hands touching you everywhere over the clothes, wet kissing marking every piece of exposed skin. You force yourself to catch a long breath, tugging his hair in your hands.

“Hey.” You say softly, smirking a little and breathing harshly.

He arches an eyebrow, hands down in your ass and laughs when he understands why you stop. “Really? Fucking Green Lantern wants to take things slow?”

“Oh, no. Don’t be mistaken, Dickie. But we are in the middle of a fucking street in fucking Blüdhaven, with the fucking Titans waiting for us inside.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.” You offer him a kind but sarcastic smile.

Dick groans, pressing a forehead to yours, letting the energy between you simmer instead of combusting. “Yeah, we can’t exactly… finish this out here,” he mutters.

You grin, leaning into him just enough to feel the warmth of his chest. His hand slides to yours, fingers intertwining like nothing ever changed. You grin, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand.

“Truce?” you offer, voice teasing but warm.

“For now,” he says, voice low, brushing his lips over your temple in a soft, lingering kiss. “But you owe me, Lantern.”

“Oh, I intend to pay up,” you murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, then glancing down the alley with a smirk. “Let’s just… not tell anyone about the fireworks outside the bar.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, Titans might actually kill us if they saw.”

You take his hand firmly, letting him pull you back toward the bar, walking with a synchronized rhythm, hips brushing, fingers still locked together. There’s laughter now, quiet and easy, the tension easing into something softer. He drops your hand when you two approach the booth and you don't mind it, because you would've done the same.

By the time you slip back inside, the others are mid-conversation, oblivious. Dick slides into the booth beside you. You don't tease him for the rest of the night, you knew he was gonna walk you home, invent any excuse to come up to your hotel room, and there you'd have enough time to tease him about everything.

a/n: luckily i had this saved in my laptop because this was one of my favorite fics that i've ever written

And Sukuna decided he didn't like you the second you bumped into him.

Okay, maybe that had something to do with the drink you accidentally spilled on him, or the fact you were wasted enough to think asking if the carpets matched the pink drapes would break the awkward tension afterwards.

But your best attempt at flirting with Sukuna had been what led you to Gojo. Chalked it up to fate being funny - in a frustrating way.

Meant to be.

Gojo had laughed at your joke, letting you know that his did before sticking his hand out to introduce himself and insist on giving you a ride home. To his place.

And that brought you here all these months later - riding shotgun with a guy that hated you when you should be sipping margaritas with the one that wanted you instead. He barely tolerated your company as is, only ever chiming in with snide remarks and mocking comments. The only reason he'd even been convinced to drive you was cash.

Sukuna started to say something, but the truck ahead jolted forward, traffic once again moving and his attention shifted back to the road.

You noticed before he did.

Thin tendrils of smoke starting to puff out from under the hood, your lips parting as you reached over to tap on his tattooed forearm.

"Um, Su-"

"Fuck," he growled, pressing on the hazards light and pulling over on the gravel shoulder, the car behind you eagerly taking your spot.

The last time that piece of shit beater had seen better days was probably a decade ago. The paint job and the replaced parts apparently didn't mean much watching from the passenger seat as Sukuna popped the hood, only catching glimpses of him through the windshield, phone pressed to his ear and sweat making his shirt stick to his skin.

Scrolling aimlessly on your phone to pass the time, pretending not to listen in while he called around to the closest mechanics, arguing loudly with them over times and prices, your stomach flipping when you realized Gojo had left your last message asking if he missed you yet on seen.

Sukuna yanked your car door open, frowning at you like it was your fault his car broke down.

"Tow truck will be here in an hour," he grunted.

"Oh," you bit your lip, looking around at the packed road, disappointment settling in your gut at the idea of waiting in the heat next to him. "Is your car like, okay?"

Or more accurately, when the fuck would it be fixed?

The sooner, the better.

"Engine fucking overheated in this stupid traffic. Shop said it'll take two days."

Shit.

You weren't sure who was more pissed about being in this situation with each other. His clenched jaw and tensed muscles, your folded arms and the disgusted scrunch of your nose.

"Oh," you repeated.

"Looks like you're stuck with me until then, sweetheart."

𓆝 𓆟

Sukuna didn't know how the fuck he let Gojo sucker him into this.

You.

Staring out the window of a rideshare at the clustered streets and the busy strip of tacky souvenir shops and shitty hotels, pouting at the setting sun as the car skidded into a parking spot in front of a poorly-maintained motel.

He tossed a five dollar bill up front, shoving open his door before the car had even fully stopped, impatiently waiting by the trunk for it to open and he could grab his suitcase.

And after a second of silent deliberation, he grabbed yours too, jostling it as he dropped it on the cracked concrete of the parking lot.

You were climbing out after him, tripping in the process and only catching yourself with your palms. Scraping your knees, but you didn't whine or huff. Just dusted yourself off and pretended it hadn't happened, when you picked your probably cracked phone off the pavement on your knees. He didn't say what he wanted to say, just gruffly nodded towards your suitcase before slamming the trunk shut.

And even on the ground, you glared up at him like it was his fault you fell.

What exactly did Gojo see in you?

Sure, you were pretty. Smart, although it seemed you only used your brain to be a bitch to him. Occasionally funny - even if he'd rather choke on rocks than laugh at one of your jokes.

But you were insufferable. Scowling and stuck-up and ready to sneak in some snide remark.

Even here, when he was doing you a fucking favor, you looked at him like he was something stuck to the bottom of your overpriced heels.

Well, flip-flops today.

You followed him to the lobby, like some stray cat who couldn't get a clue, practically pressed against his side when he asked to book two rooms and the idiot at the front desk informed him there was only one available.

"Whatever," you huffed, leg bouncing. "We'll take it."

Sukuna briefly considered leaving you here before deciding it wasn't worth Gojo maiming him over.

He didn't have that much cash on him - and covering the cost of fixing his car would be another expense he could barely afford. It wasn't that he didn't get paid enough. His health insurance was shit - and he had other bills from his real life that he had to use his checks for.

So a cheap motel room was the best he could do for now. Not that you needed to know that.

You snagged the keys, tossing one to him with that little pout you usually kept glued to your lips, disdain dripping with every snap of your flip flops against the floor as the wheels of your suitcase squeaked and dragged behind you.

Room 7.

Right next to the vending machines and accompanied by the sound of ice clacking against each other, curtains drawn as you fumbled to unlock the door. The paint was peeling inside, the bed barely made, a tiny tv set up on the dresser as you tossed your stuff down. Cracks had formed around the ceiling fan, the only light in the room a glowing yellow from the lamp and the fluorescents from the bathroom.

His stare swept back over the room, reassessing the details until your shoulder nudged against his arm and one of the little details stuck back out in his brain.

The bed.

As in one.

You started walking over to it, but he beat you to it, dropping his suitcase as his long legs got there first.

"You gonna sleep on the floor, princess?" Sukuna sarcastically asked, laying back down on the creaking mattress and the bleached-white blankets.

"As if," you scoffed back at him, taking the spot next to him like it was yours to claim.

He rolled onto his side, scowling at you already.

"Just get Gojo to send you some money to get your own room," he gruffly said, tempted to push you off and onto the floor.

"And stay by myself?" You frowned.

No, of course not.

You liked to be spoiled, bought and paid for, taken care of like a pretty pampered pet.

Gojo might be happy to oblige that, but Sukuna wasn't so stupid.

But really?

When he boiled it down?

He fucking hated losing. And there was nothing more entertaining to you than trying to knock him down a peg.

You wanted to win. Both of you refused to budge, silently glaring as the room seemed to shrink around you, like this infuriatingly small bed was a bubble about to pop.

"Guess you'll just have to get used to putting up with me," you broke the silence, tilting your head to the side in a way he supposed was meant to be cute.

"Stay on your side of the bed," he grumbled, grabbing his phone from his pocket and trying to distract himself from your perfumed presence as you relaxed on the pillow by his side.

He didn't even fucking lay like this with the girls he hooked up with.

They never curled up by him, hair sprawled out and shirt wrinkled, scrolling on their phone and kicking his calf with pedicured toes. Didn't lounge so close like a cat claiming ownership.

His eye twitched.

Gojo had texted him, offering a distraction that didn't ease the vein throbbing in his forehead.

gojo: :(

A fucking frowny face in response to him saying his car had broken down and he was stranded here with you until it was fixed.

Then another buzz. A payment sent to him. A full fucking grand. For what? His car? Or-?

gojo: keep her occupied for me? gojo: try not to strangle each other lol

Sukuna didn't reply. Just reacted with a thumbs-up to keeping you occupied. Gojo-code for he had found some new distraction of his own to fill his time while you ruined Sukuna's.

You had to know. Have some clue that Gojo was sleeping around with other girls. You'd been there while he flirted in clubs and bars, watched the way he leaned in and danced too close with attractive strangers, bought them shots and drinks. Sukuna had seen your attempts at making him jealous, not that Gojo noticed.

But still, you always plastered a smile on, laced your fingers through Gojo's and pressed a kiss to his mouth like it was just yours.

Sukuna shifted, just to bump back into you, his knee brushing against your thigh.

You sighed, exhaling like you were exhausted just from doing nothing in his passenger seat all afternoon. Rolling off the bed and throwing your own phone down.

But because Sukuna's day couldn't get worse, it then bounced off and hit him in the cheek. Hard enough to hurt, barely hiding his wince.

"Shit," you squeaked, reaching out before he brushed your hand away.

"M'fine," he grunted, rubbing the sore spot while you stared at him with the faintest hint of apology.

Grabbing your phone and shoving it in the pocket of your shorts, embarrassment pulling your lips down. But he saw it, just for a second.

It was cracked from where you fell. Glass chipped around the corner and a thick line running down it. How long until Gojo bought you a new one?

"I'm, um, gonna go get some extra clothes," you mumbled, softer, not looking at him directly in the eye. "Grab some food too."

"Okay?" He felt his brow raise up, while you looked at him with that expectant pout.

"You're really just going to let me walk alone?"

𓆝 𓆟

This was hell on earth.

He had to walk through a fucking shark head to get to the front door of this claustrophobic money-laundering scheme they called a store. Every aisle was stuffed, clothing racks crammed full of clothes all proudly proclaiming where you bought it from. He couldn't imagine any of this shit actually sold. Well, not enough to turn a profit, especially when the windows were all plastered with BUY ONE, GET TWO FREE signs.

And here you were, flicking through rack after rack, little creases and lines marking your face as you looked through your options.

"Don't you have clothes in your suitcase?" He grumbled, feeling trapped between all the shelves, fabric touching him no matter where he moved.

"Gojo took most of my stuff ahead with him," you shrugged, picking out a skimpy dress that would barely go past your ass.

He scoffed, sealing his mouth shut to watch you shop. Really, he should've stayed back at the motel, but he had a feeling that would somehow backfire more than accompanying you would.

You squeezed past shelves, nearly knocking over a coffee mug that he had to catch and put back, oblivious (or maybe just ignoring) the disgruntled sound he made.

He was sick of you now.

Two more days of this? Then another week of watching you fawn over his best friend? God, what kind of crime had he committed in a past life to deserve this?

"What do you think of this one?" Your voice called out to him, and when he looked up, you were holding up a tiny bikini, your eyes big and blinking like it was a real fucking question.

"Am I supposed to care?" He grunted, and you rolled your eyes.

"Are you incapable of answering a question?" You retorted, but you were already shoving the bikini back. Turning away from him to look through your other options.

You were pouting again, lips pursed together as you picked out a pale blue one and seemed to hesitate over it before grabbing a red one that was hanging above it.

"The red one."

You glanced over your shoulder at him, surprised, mouth parting, closing and reopening before you finally asked, "Yeah?"

Sukuna walked away before his tongue could betray him again.

Pretended to be interested in the tacky knickknacks and overpriced t-shirts, keeping an eye out while you checked out, slinging the bag they gave you over your elbow. Watched the way you scanned the store for him, biting you lip as you scoffed and sighed to yourself until you spotted him.

"There's a pizza place down the street from here," you grumbled when you got close enough, holding out your shopping bag for him to take.

He didn't.

You walked ahead of him. Left him to follow you down the street, like you hadn't thrown a fit about walking alone hardly an hour ago. The streets were crowded, people in bathing suits and families all on vacation, hand-in-hand and preoccupied with their own lives.

But unlike him, they picked this. Were happy to be here.

You paused, grabbing his wrist to stop him before he could run into you. But he did anyway, too distracted studying strangers to see what had caught your attention until his body was practically pushed against yours.

"Want one?" You teased, stepping back first, pointing a finger towards the store you were both standing in front of.

A henna shop.

Tattoos for people with commitment issues.

"I'm not paying for something that's not going to last," he dismissed, waving his hand away. Your eyes flickered across his body, traced the lines of his tattoos with amusement? Interest?

He was used to your glares and pouts. But whatever expression on your face now was one he couldn't place.

"Well, I want to look," you slowly said, walking in before he could protest more.

That was one thing you had in common with Gojo, he guessed.

You both always got what you wanted.

Sukuna frowned, watching you chat with the receptionist with a practiced smile, returning over to him with a portfolio book in hand while some twelve year old squirmed in a chair ten feet away, getting a flower on her arm.

"This is lame," he dismissed, but you just laughed, throwing him an amused look before glancing back down at the book. He leaned closer, fighting the urge to scoff. "You won't actually get one."

"Says you," you huffed, running a finger over the laminated page.

"Ten bucks says you won't," he dared, just to make your brows scrunch together in irritation, earning another eye roll.

"What makes you think that?" You gritted your teeth.

He almost laughed.

"When do you ever do anything without his input?" Sukuna snarled.

It wasn't fair. Probably meaner than he should be considering he was stuck with you for the next couple days. Considering you'd just run back to Gojo to complain about him being a dick to you.

But you never backed down, just tilting your nose up at him and puffing air out of it.

"That's not true," you argued, glaring at him with your entirely un-intimidating eyes.

"Sure," he dryly replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Seriously," you insisted, and Sukuna half-expected you to stomp or shout. He shrugged, some small piece of him enjoying how easy it was to irritate you, to watch your mouth twitch. But you never shrunk away from him, instead sizing him up with a huff. "Wanna bet?"

"Yeah, right," he shrugged, making it obvious he thought you were full of shit.

"You can even pick," you dared, and he hated how much he liked the idea of that.

"Anything?" He felt his eyebrow raise, something in his stomach pulling tight.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" You handed him the book, pushing your palm flat against it until he took it from you. "But if I win, you have to pay for everything until we get down there."

He chuckled, dry and low.

"Deal."

There was no way you would actually follow through.

Until half an hour later, you were walking out with his name inked above your lower back, a smug grin on your face while he silently seethed next to you. You hadn't even fucking flinched when he said it. Didn't blush or back out last-minute, just told told the henna 'artist' how to spell it and where to fucking put it, like it was a goddamn tramp stamp.

"What kind of pizza toppings do you want?" You casually asked, sighing as you tried to turn and catch a glimpse of the henna tattoo in a passing store mirror, your shorts pulled low on your hips. Your shopping bag had somehow ended up in his hand too, feeling more like your loser boyfriend than anything else.

"I don't care," he grumbled.

"You think Gojo's gonna think it's real?" You chirped, smiling to yourself like you thought it was funny.

"He won't give a shit," Sukuna said, and you practically recoiled. Grimacing at him like he just fucking spat on you or something.

You had some idea of Gojo in your head that he didn't understand. Gojo wasn't in love with you. Didn't care past the consideration he'd have for someone he wanted to sleep with.

You stared at him, something uncomfortable hanging in the air between both of you. Lip gloss catching the light when you softly replied, "You don't know that."

"He's not your boyfriend."

Sukuna rarely regretted anything. But the hurt you tried to hide behind your scowl made him second-guess saying that.

No matter how true it was.

You were here with him. Gojo was five hundred miles away probably fucking some other girl. Ready to pull the just friends card whenever you showed up to cling to his side.

He was just the guy keeping you preoccupied. Paid for his part.

But a thin thread snapped inside his chest, the bud of irritation sprouting when you didn't have something sarcastic to say. Just turned away, pulling your phone from your pocket.

Sukuna didn't need to see your screen to know who you were trying to call. Not when you started walking a few steps ahead like it'd stop him from overhearing.

He guessed it didn't matter though.

Gojo didn't answer.