Overly Freaked Out

What Osiris didn't expect, however, was the jealousy his dear friend possessed, as if ruling half of the country wasn't enough. As if he needed to grasp full control, make other deities weep under his hand, set a merciless regime upon Egypt and its people, always fearful of this one, unpredictable God.

He had lots of favouritism, however, from the highest of all – Ra, the Goddess of the Sun herself, who treated him gently and stood behind him quietly. Her sly eyes liked his brute and power, a thought of him being a rightful ruler coiling in her mind often, but she couldn't take his side openly, for the fate of her other deity children.

People of the upper lands build temple upon temple, Set's godly figures standing proudly, facing his red land – the desert – as if believers wished for him to protect them from the smell of passing filling these deadly sands. Pharaohs prayed too, the rulers of foreign lands cherished him, as a voice of everything bringing difference and chaos, including foreigners.

The friendship between him and Osiris bloomed, as if the merciful God was the only one able to tame the ferocious beast. The most powerful one who walked along the sandstorms wielding a scepter, his chariot bringing fear, a beastly mask making people kneel till the skin of their knees was bloody red from the sizzling sun.

Thus, how could it happen that such a loyalty ended up with Osiris's body cut through and through in madness, with his chamber looking rather like a bloody bathhouse? What thought has pushed the God of Storms to such deception? How could he have killed the ruler of Egypt himself?

And how could other Gods allow him to take over Osiris's throne just like that?

"My dear child," the voice of your mother was soft as her hands, cupping your cheeks gently. "The day is coming, you know of it, right?"

You nodded faintly, golden hoops clinking with the move of your head. She looked at you with love and tiredness, soft hair caressing the tip of your nose as she hugged you lovingly, with a faint tremble of her body.

"Mother," you started, hearing her weeping. "Mother, it's alright. I can do it, don't have any other choice."

And true it was, because as the only daughter of long-dead Osiris, the child no one knew of, you finally needed to go for what was rightfully yours. The throne of Egypt.

You weren't a deity yet, though of divine blood born, and the Goddess name given you was Horus, for the birds that always surrounded you and kissed your cheeks gently, bringing you a piece of sky to your body, hidden carefully in the deepest chambers of Isis's temple. She was a great mother, right Goddess, a crucial one, caring for magic, fate itself even, but she wasn't strong enough to overrule the slayer.

None of the Gods was, as Set was the most powerful deity, the most treacherous one, with a scepter heavier than Duat's monsters, making the pantheon tremble every time it hit the ground. In fact, you also couldn't defeat him by power itself, but wished for the Godly court to acknowledge your right to the throne. And maybe keep you safe, before he would wish to kill you.

Because he'll try to, and that's why your mother was weeping like a child, drenching your white robes with her tears. You were the only child they had conceived before your father's death, and a woman at that – truly unfortunate! For if you were a son, winning the power back would be much easier. Maybe you could even try to conquer Set, though the heavens would collapse before anyone could do it.

The faithful day came faster than you wished for, and now, it was time to walk proudly towards the Ennead, with other deities eyeing you up. Something bubbled in your throat, while a heavy falcon mask rested on your head. The white robe hung loose on your body, draping shoulders and legs, down to your ankles, making you look rather boyish and slim. Your mother didn't want to reveal your gender, yet, as it would be safe to do after the official approval of the council. But, well, how truly powerful the council was if they couldn't overthrow Set's cruel regime?

Your breath quickened when you took the next steps towards the great temple where Ennead – all nine, no, now eight gods, forming a rightful court – waited for the meeting your mother had called. She was there too, as you entered the hall, sitting with others high and mighty, with golden thrones hidden under the marble arch, their eyes watching you as your legs moved across the sandy road, under the blazing sun, and nothing but a deep wish for it to already end.

The meeting was set in the temple of Maat, Goddess of Truth and Justice, the one who weighs the hearts of the dead in Duat, a deity who could herself decide the truthfulness of your words and abolish the trickery of the usurper. And your mother was quite satisfied with this place too, because if there was someone Maat despised the most, it was the embodiment of chaos and brutality itself – Set.

And you saw him right away.

The moment you stepped inside the temple, he was there. Standing lazily in front of the deities, with arms crossed, one hand clutching a long scepter ending with a blade, reflecting the cold, marble columns of the temple.

Massive. That was the first word that came to your mind.

No, monstrous.

Your mother told you of him, and you should expect the God of War himself to be well-built, but you truly misjudged your expectations.

Set – or Sukuna, as his non-godly name sounded – was a monster himself, at least twice as tall and broad as you. His back was turned your way, wide as dunes, rising in peaks of heavy muscle beneath sun-kissed skin slick with heat. Droplets of sweat traced slow paths down his golden surface, catching the scorching light of the rising sun. Black tattoos wrapped tightly around his body, intricate and deliberate, for now visible only across his back and—

Four arms.

Oh God.

The temple suddenly fell quiet, smaller deities standing around with mouths gaping, glancing between you and Sukuna. He didn't look your way even for a moment, with his back proudly straight and chin up, muttering something about wasting his time and sighting heavily.

He didn't look at you even as you stood in the same line as him, though at least two meters away, keeping the distance as he truly could wrap one of his four hands around your throat if he wished to.

Your breath was ragged, head filled with thoughts, and eyes suddenly bulged as you looked at him secretly.

A heavy mask rested upon his head, grazing his shoulders. Its long ears ended in squared tips, a dark snout curving downward, eyes deeply set and fixed toward the court with stillness. You could not see his face – no more than anyone could see yours beneath the blue falcon mask that hid you from the nose up. Yet what little was visible betrayed his strength – a sharp, defined chin, lips pressed into a firm line. Black markings ran from his jaw down his neck to his chest, hugging the authority of his body.

Your gaze drifted lower despite yourself, tracing the breadth of his shoulders, the four burly arms flexing subtly, the solid muscles of his chest and abdomen carved as if from sandstone. And then–

Dear Lord.

Was that… a mouth?

He stood still beneath the blazing Egyptian sun, divine and dreadful all at once – a true god and a monster.

"Child," a feminine voice has suddenly spoken, and a woman with feathers on her arms stood in front of the Ennead – Maat. Your mother was there, glancing at Sukuna with the tip of her finger between lips, as if trying to predict his reaction. "Please, let us know your name."

You gulped, mask showing nothing but a part of your cherry cheeks, as you glanced at all eight Gods sitting in front of you. "I present under my divine name Horus."

Small Gods murmured, their eyes never leaving your white-clothed figure, with golden bracelets hugging your still arms.

"And who are your parents, child?" She asked again, with a soft voice. It sounded sweet as honey, pleasant to your ears as you once again took a deep breath.

"My mother–"

"And who the fuck cares?" a voice thundered through the temple, low and heavy, silencing all the murmurers solely with the darkness of its tone. The hit of the metallic scepter followed, and the floor shook.

Sukuna cleared his throat, two upper arms crossed on his broad chest, lower ones hanging loosely, with one clenched around the tall pole.

"My God, please use proper language," Her voice was stern when she scolded him, with feathers on her arms tensing.

"Then speak quicker," Sukuna barked. "I showed you mercy by not ruining this council, so stop wasting my time."

"My God, this council serves other deities and believers, too. We do not aim to infer your rule. However–"

But Maat's words seemed to pick Sukuna's attention, with his body tensing slightly. Before he could bark another order, however, one of the eight Gods interrupted. "Maat, could you please tell us what the reason is for the Ennead meeting? My God, please grace us a bit of your time."

Maat took the golden scroll clutched in her hands and rolled it slowly, with a gentle frown appearing between her brows. It seemed like no one besides you and your mother knew the reason for the meeting, and this alone made you stress even more.

"The meeting was held at the request of Goddess Isis. She wants the council to consider this child and its godly lineage, for its mother is the Goddess of Magic herself and Father..." Her voice suddenly flattened, as if stuck in her throat. Lips parted, eyes gazing between you and Sukuna, with a trace of some strange sense. Dread? Concern?

"Who is it?" The council asked.

"And Father is God of Fertility, Osiris."

It was fast.

Too fast.

Something you should have expected and prepared for, but truly didn't have time. As before you saw your mother's widening eyes and Maat turning towards the council, you already couldn't breathe.

Two strong hands clenched on your throat, picking you up, up, up, till your feet were hanging loosely in the air, lungs burning, gaze on the same level as the eyes of a beastly mask.

It was pure chaos, with your mother's screams ringing somewhere, the council having no power whatsoever over the raging monster that grabbed your weak body, and other deities looking at you with compassion. Such an unfortunate child, to stand in front of the usurpator himself without any guard!

"My God, please!" your mother cried, lips trembling at the sight of your nails scratching Sukuna's hands relentlessly, from palms till forearms, leaving bloody trails over his burning skin.

"A child, huh? So your whorish mother somehow managed to keep you hidden for that many years." He murmured, voice low enough to speak solely to you. "Aren't you just a weakling for a man? What, wanted to take the throne back? Challenge me?"

But you couldn't say anything, with your chest shrinking under the shortage of breath and fingers trying to loosen his merciless grip.

"Say something, boy. That's what you came here for." Sukuna laughed deeply, looking at your wringing body, till... till something caught his eye.

He didn't see it before, skipping your weak posture and not gracing you with a single glance, but from that close, your body didn't look masculine at all. In fact, his third hand grazed the arc of your ass and the slim of your waist, fingers going up, up, up, till it met with something soft and heavy.

The next second, your flushed face and bloodshot eyes met with long beams of sunshine. Mask dropped heavily down the sand, letting loose hair cup your rosy cheeks, drenched with weighty tears, smooching your skin. It was bright, too bright, with all the deities looking at your face – very red, very delicate, very feminine. As none of them expected a woman hiding under the falcon's mask, with her look so lovely and cheeky, it made some hearts tremble in sympathy.

But it seemed Sukuna was shocked too, as his fingers loosened up a little, his lips opened, as if he wanted to throw your way another filthy comment.

Before he managed, however, he completly lost his grip and dropped you down on soft sand. Heavy cough shook your body, air tasting like the sweetest treat, as you took deep breaths to calm your burning lungs.

Your eyes looked up, seeing God in a rather odd position – tied by golden threads. All four of his arms behind his back, neck bound to wrists, wrists lashed to ankles, as he kneeled down with muscles bulging under the flimsy rope.

"What a sight!" A deep voice cut through the air, before the crowd gasped.

Something, someone, entered the temple, with a halo around their body so radiant, you could swear that the Goddess of the Sun herself had descended to earth.

And, well, it seems you were right.

For a myth clothed in white, almost misty robes was walking your way, with sun-kissed hips swaying swiftly and heavy breasts covered by long, black hair. She looked breathtaking, potent, with a gaze so intense it made your eyes drop immediately, glancing nowhere but at your bare feet. Her voice was low but gentle, almost motherly, with a hint of cheekiness, for the Goddess of the Sun was the mightiest deity, more powerful than Osiris himself, and all the current gods came directly from her womb.

"My Goddess," the council spoke quietly, bowing their heads. "What brings you here?"

But Goddess of the Sun, Ra, simply waved her hand, standing next to kneeling Sukuna.

"Oh my, you truly wanted to kill this sugar, hm?" She giggled quietly, seeing God of War himself in such a pathetic state. Although if he wished, he certainly could break the golden thread with the sole force of his arms.

But the Goddess of the Sun always liked him the most and treated him with kindness; killing her would be not only a hassle but a waste.

"Ra, what are you doing?" He muttered, golden lines digging into his skin.

Goddess looked rather cheeky when her deep, lined eyes moved to you.

"You've grown up to be such a beautiful woman. Although presenting yourself like that was rather foolish," She giggled and helped you stand up. "You truly look like him."

Her words seemed to echo in the speechlessness of the temple, forcing other deities to furrow their foreheads and raise the whispers once again. Including Ennead, for they tilted their heads, as if in mishearing.

"My Goddess," Maat started. "You knew about all of it?"

"Of course! I'm the Goddess of Sun, know of everything going on down here."

Maat cleared her throat, trying once again. "My Goddess, you should've informed us of Osirisi's heir. We could've–"

But Ra scoffed and rolled her eyes, fingers grazing your soft cheeks. "And you would do what? Let this brute kill the baby? Oh, please, this is much more entertaining!"

Because one thing the Goddess of the Sun was known for was her love of amusement. She wasn't usually meddling with the affairs of deities nor the council per se, but if there was a chance to gain something and have much fun with it, Ra would be the first one take her pleasure. She didn't rule like she used to, but remained the most powerful God in the whole pantheon, appearing here and there as she wished, but never siding with anyone directly.

Well, at least that's how it should be, but her favour of Set was built upon years of his protection and serving loyally by her side. He was the killer of one god, but the guardian of another. Such an odd man!

"My Goddess, according to the law, she's the one who ought to claim the throne. Does it mean that Set–"

But Ra sighted deeply, kohl-lined eyes with a gentle swirl at the ends glued to your face, as if thinking what to do with such a pure child!

"Yes, it means she should claim it–"

"You whor–" Sukuna started, but golden threads suddenly put him in a muzzle.

"But!" Ra raised her finger, eyes glancing back at the tamed monster. "God of War is a current ruler, thus it's only fair for them to compete."

The silence that fell in the temple was, well, heavy would be an overstatement.

Compete? You? Has she seen your body? Has she seen his body?

If she meant to compare your powers, you had nothing on the thousand-year-old God of War, who could raze the whole of Egypt to the ground with a single hit of his scepter.

"What do you mean by 'compete', my Goddess?" Maat furrowed her brows, looking at the cheerfulness that filled the woman.

"Well, think about it! Do you truly believe that giving a throne to a girl like her, with zero knowledge of ruling or battling, would be smart? Maybe she is Osiris's daughter, but he's been long dead, and we moved on!" She laughed loudly, raising a wave of murmurs. In the corner of your eye, you saw your mother's clenched jaw and fingers digging into the golden throne. "Let them have a competition then. The one who wins will rule Egypt."

She then glanced between you and Sukuna, his arms wriggling under the golden thread, mouth tightly shut, and you wished to his face fully, just to have a peek at the fury that must have filled his eyes.

"What do you say, dears? Do you want to compete for power?" She looked you straight in the eyes, as if feeling your hesitation. "Don't worry, dear, you won't have to fight him directly."

You could almost feel the gaze of your mother putting a hole through your skull, so you agreed with a gentle nod of your head. Ra moved her gaze to Sukuna before snapping her fingers. Golden thread left his body as he took a deep breath and stood up straight, towering over both of you.

He didn't say a word first, deep eyes of a beastly mask looking at you from above, with four arms this time crossed on his chest and abs. The mouth on his abdomen was closed, and maybe you noticed a hint of curiosity swirling in your mind, over how it could feel–

"Good," Sukuna almost roared, sending chills down your spine.

"Excellent!" Ra clapped her hands. "Maat, dear, you know what to do!"

Maat sighed, looking at the council who could truly do nothing but nod their heads and let Goddess of the Sun have her fun.

Something suddenly panged in your chest, as if moving, wriggling, trying to run off, and before you noticed, your heart appeared in Maat's left hand, with another one, twice bigger, in her right. She put them both on the golden scale in front of her, the same one she used to weigh sins of the dead.

"Then both of you agree and promise to participate in contendings for the rule of Egypt lawfully and fairly, is that right?" Maat said, glancing at warm hearts beating slowly on the golden plates.

"Yes." Both you and Sukuna answered.

"Both of you agree to partake in events chosen randomly by the Ennead and give rule to the one who'll win at least three, is that correct?"

"What a crap, I could just kill her if I wanted to," Sukuna muttered, fingers itching just to grab your neck once again.

But this time, maybe in a different setting, as those pouty lips of yours, together with wet, blushed eyes, somehow couldn't leave his mind.

"Set," Maat started slowly, as if trying to calm a ferocious beast. "If you win, you'll be acknowledged as the rightful ruler of Egypt, and the council will strip you of the usurper's name. Noone will ever try to seize your throne, non interefere your rule in any way."

Sukuna tilted his head, black ears following his move, as if thinking about having pathetic competition with this brat or just killing her on the spot.

"Fine." He finally grumbled.

"Good, it's settled then. The competition will start in four days, till then you may stay here and relax." She turned towards the council, waiting for the row of their nods. "I announce the meeting of Ennead as finished."

𓂀 𓂀 𓂀

The first day has passed quietly. You settled in your chamber, and a temple was big enough to have both you and Sukuna without ever letting you meet one another.

Your mother wept for some time, apologising for the mess and such an unpredictable turn of events, cursing the Goddess of the Sun with the harshest words you've ever heard from her lips. You tried to console her (walls have ears!) and ensure that the competition would surely be fair, although you didn't believe it yourself. For how else should you fight for the throne if not by using power?

And as she couldn't stay with you inside the Maat's temple, she left in the evening of the first day, kissing you goodbye and promising to convince the Ennead and beg them to show your grace.

On the second day, you walked around the place and enjoyed being alone for the first time, as till now your life had been focused on nothing but planning the overthrow of Sukuna. Maat's temple laid between the dunes, in deep parts of Lower Egypt, far away from the Upper region ruled by Set. You wondered how she felt to have the embodiment of chaos itself under her roof, the trickster and brute, who represented everything she tried to get rid of in this world. But she was too good and needed to stay objective, thus constantly hiding in her chamber just to not meet Sukuna himself.

You walked these corridors as if the temple belonged to yourself only, glancing at tall, stony walls painted with Maat's myths and mixing in rays of colour, wrapping around columns up to the roof. Dunes from the huge window of your chamber looked magnificent during the day, but even more beautiful in the night, with the temple's gentle torches lighting the paths leading towards the desert.

"The view is better from the bathhouse." Maat mentioned the third day, and you decided to use her offer.

Thus, in the evening, draped only in white, flowy robes, easy to put on, but even easier to slip off, you went towards the bathhouse. Warm fire of the torches kissed your skin gently, leading your bare feet straight to the big chamber, with nothing but a huge pool and sparkling stars looking at your bare body. It seemed empty and quiet, if you didn't count the quiet whispers of the sand as it moved together with a cheerful wind. The desert was usually cold at night, but hot water warmed your body, wetting your feet and calves, going up till your soft belly and the swell of your breast, dipping under blue waves.

"Oh dear," you moaned quietly, tilting head back. It truly was relaxing, and the dunes looked splendid, dancing before your gentle eyes like an oasis.

All the stress for tomorrow's event suddenly vanished, with the warm water and the hum of sand clearing your body of all the worries.

But it seemed as if your time couldn't last long, as soon you heard a pair of heavy footsteps moving up behind you. Your eyes were closed, but the moment water dribbled, you opened them carefully, peeking at the person who caused water to spill over the pool's edge.

And you wished to leave this bathhouse immediately.

As the small waves were moved by his muscular body and meaty thighs, prodding the pool to sit right in front of you.

Sukuna.

But this time, without his beastly mask.

Just pinkish hair and ferociously crimson eyes, looking your way with the heaviest stare you've ever felt, almost pushing into the pool's wall behind you. His face was sharp and handsome, absolutely stunning, with almond eyes sitting deep right above the slightly bumped nose and pursed lips. You noticed two smaller eyes right on his cheeks and black tattoos carving his face like a godly tablet. He sat lazily, with four arms draped over the edge and massive thighs opened. The bathhouse's water was, unfortunately for you, crystal clear, and your eyes dilated, breath hitched at the sight of two–

"What are you looking at, brat?" He chortled, carefully following the gentle blush that bloomed on your cheeks, and hands trying to immediately cover up your breasts. "Why? Shy? Just a second ago, you were looking at me quite openly."

"I wasn't." You mumbled, thinking whether you should stay and try to rest or leave this monster alone.

Sukuna tipped his head, humming softly under his nose. "Do you truly believe that you can win against me?"

You didn't respond, closing your eyes once again to gain a bit of long-gone peace. He looked amused, following the curve of your breasts and the softness of your belly. Thighs clenched on the bench, with clear water giving him a perfect look at the mound of your cunt.

"I could defeat you without using strength." He added, something in his lower parts budging, at the mere sight of your lips that grimaced at his words.

"We'll see tomorrow." You stated, trying to finish this dilly-dally again.

"I don't know what you'll see, but surely I will see myself getting the throne back."

Your eyes abruptly opened, brows wrinkled, as moved by his foolish words. "You truly are arrogant, my God. Not only have you killed my father without a reason, but you also think of the throne as yours to take. Laws were made to be obeyed."

The corners of his lips suddenly turned up in a sneaky grin as he watched your face turn feverishly red. "Without a reason? That's what your whorish mother has told you?" Your mouth parted, as if stupefied. "Besides, I'm a God of War, Chaos," He lifted his fingers, twirling them gently. A part of a high dune on the horizon rose, till it soon flattened down with the rest of the desert. "Sand. You truly think that laws mean anything to me?"

He straightened up, unshameful eyes outlining your body up and down, resting longer on parted lips and pulled thighs. "If they did, maybe I wouldn't kill your father."

His words tore your heart apart, but lustful gaze and quiet voice made your stomach turn. You wished to hate him (truly!), but it was the first time someone had looked at you like that. With a look you could only compare to a starving jackal, strolling around its prey in circles, lingering patiently for its last breath. He had you at the length of his arm, and if he wanted to, he could easily grab your neck and pull you straight to his hardening cocks. Plural form indeed.

But he didn't. Just waited, patiently, as you wriggled under his eyes, trying to look everywhere, but not at his naked body and muscles upon muscles.

The air was tense, heavy, sticky with a sweat dripping from both of your bodies and filling your throat until breathing became difficult.

You needed to end this, quickly.

But before you stood up, his deep voice slashed through your ears once again. "Try to run away, and I'm gonna tie those pretty legs of yours."

His crimson eyes followed every frown of your forehead, gentle eyes gazing at him with fear, wet lips opening and closing, as if thinking how to deal with a brute of his sort.

"You can't hurt me according to law," you mumbled on one breath. "Why don't you just wait till tomorrow to kill me?"

And then – he laughed. Deeply, till his chest trembled and something in your core clenched. For all of his arms stretched towards you, long enough to graze the sizzling skin of your cheek. His thumb alone was thrice the size of your nose, and when it brushed your parted lips, you could do nothing but open them under his heavy touch.

"I don't want to kill you, brat," he muttered, feeling your warm breath hugging his calloused skin. "You know what's the easiest way to defeat God?"

You frowned, head shaking. The grin on his face looked devilishly handsome.

"Of course you don't, you're nothing but a stupid girl. Tell you what," his fingers dropped down to your chin, neck, wrapping around your skin brutally, but gently enough to still let you breathe. "Your whorish mother should have taught you this while keeping you closed. We, Gods of Egypt, have morals too, and according to our custom, the easiest way to overpower someone is to make them consume..." Oh, you knew. You've heard of it, read about it in books that sat dusty in Isis's temple. Skimming then sinfully, with a blushing shame, reading about that stuff between Gods and humans, though never experiencing them yourself.

For a God to lose their face in front of another one, they needed to consume their semen!

Sukuna chuckled, noticing your bulging eyes. "But, well, you found yourself in a pretty uncomfortable position here. And you know why, right?"

You glanced up, meeting his crimson gaze and tilted head, pinkish hair slightly wet from a floating steam and muscles dripping with sweat.

Of course, you knew.

"Because I'm a woman."

Thus, even if you desired, there was no way for you to defile Sukuna. But as for him...

And within the next second, you were suddenly pulled. All of his hands on your body – neck, waist, thighs – seating your dripping cunt riiiight on his two hard cocks. You strangled his hips with a shuddered breath, eyes on the same level as his, hands placed gently on his broad chest, lower belly stuck to–

"Mhmm," you moaned quietly, feeling a long and heavy muscle tasting the sweatiness of your skin.

Mouth on his abdomen opened, grazing your belly with its sharp teeth, kissing it gently with its tongue, going down down down, till you felt it on your mound.

"Smart girl, aren't you?" He chuckled, taking the wholeness of your face.

Flushed cheeks, rinsed like cherries, dimmed eyes with little droplets swirling in their corners, parted lips with sweet, little moans escaping from your clenched throat. You shuddered when his lower mouth bit the plush of your belly, tongue trying to go down lower, just to taste the sweetness of your cunt. And sweet it must've been indeed, because he couldn't stop thinking about your scent and the softness of your skin from that feral moment.

"But I'm not a brute like your father, so say that you want it, hm?" his voice dropped, one hand moving up to the swell of your breasts, thumb brushing the perked nipple gently. "Say that you want it, and we'll make a deal."

"W-what dea–mhmmm," you tried to ask, but your voice suddenly fell flat upon feeling the wet tongue swirling around your nipple.

Another mouth?

Sukuna chuckled, all four hands keeping your wiggling body tight in place – two on your asscheeks, parting them slightly and moving along his cocks, one around your throat, one on your flushed tits. And as monstrous as he was, he could manhandle your melting body using the tiniest bit of his power. You arched, feeling his heavy cocks catching on your dripping pussy, water flowing over the edge of the pool as you gripped his muscular shoulders.

"C-can you please s-stop for j-just a moment," you somehow choked out, nevertheless softening into his body like a slut, rubbing over his shafts, soaking them with gummy saps. Both of his hands moved your hips up, till they finally met with the cunning tongue of his lower mouth.

"Why? Distracted? Do you wish for me to do it tomorrow in front of your mother?"

Oh dear, you jerked at this sheer thought, but words caught in your throat the moment his lower tongue gave you meaaaan and filthy jolt. Its monstrous size wrapping around your whole cunt, licking, slurping, curving your drenched folds solely with its tip.

His fingers gripped the curve of your ass, moving your cunt up and down on his fatty tongue. And you tasted so fucking delicious. He wouldn't admit it outloud, but the moment his mouth swallowed the first droplets of your slick, something in his chest shook, cocks hardned, feeling the sugary sweetness of your drenched cunt.

"Let's make a deal, then. You," heavyyy lick. "Will back out of the trial."

"N-no–"

Teeth of his monstrous mouth bit your clit, till you deflected, back arching from the painful pleasure that dripped down your spine.

"Shut up, brat, let me speak. I will be the ruler of Egypt. But," as if feeling your pain, his mouth quickly gave you another lick, sucking on your plumped clit gently, pushing its tip through your squeezing folds, licking every corner of your dripping cunt. "You will rule with me. As my wife."

You moaned needily, desperately, feeling spongy muscle inside your pussy, big enough to already fill you up, tormenting this one chubby spot, till a gentle fog covered your eyes.

"A w-wife?"

Sukuna moved your hips, droplets of sweat forming on his temple because, fucking God, he had never eaten out a cunt like this, so creamy and sweet, moving together with his tongue like a good slut, leaking all over his meaty thighs and catching on his throbbing cocks till a faint, almost unhearable groan bubbled in his throat. Your walls clenched around his tongue, lips mumbled something under your sugary breath, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, with fingers tugging pinkish strands.

"What? Thought you wanted to rule? Do you think a weak woman like you could do it alone?" He chuckled, upper hands moving to the curve of your back, pushing you gently towards his broad chest. And you felt too good and fucked to care, feeling his breath tickling the plush skin of your ears. "I'm gonna give you a power, you will give me lots of successors, hm? That's the best I can offer, brat. Don't even try to challenge me, or I will fuck you stupid and fill you with my cum in front of your mother."

His words echoed in your head, lower tongue lapping through your folds relentlessly, teeth grazing your mound, tip pushing against the spongy spot, swallowing sweet and creamy cum that trickled down its meaty muscles.

"So?" he pushed, thumb of his upper hand cupping your drenched cheeks, crimson eyes looking straight at yours. Fucked, defeated, gleaning at him humbly, pathetically, with salty tears wetting the pads of his fingers. He leaned closer, lips licking droplets from your rosy cheeks, kissing you messily, going down, down, till he swallowed another moan escaping your throat. "Will you be my wife?"

You didn't really have time nor opportunity to think it over, already feeling a warmth coiling somewhere in your lower belly and walls clenching around his tongue. So you nodded politely, moving your hips up and down, up and down, riding his muscle like a good little slut.

"That's my girl," he grinned devilishly, and a moment later stood up, lifting you with his one arm. The pleasure you felt suddenly dissolved in your belly, warmth quickly disappearing, and a faint growl escaped your lips.

He chuckled, feeling a disappointment coming from your clenched cunt. "Don't complain, brat. I'm gonna stretch this cunt till you'll beg for me to stop."

He moved swiftly, walking his monstrous figure through the empty halls of the temple, with your body hanging off his shoulder and beefy arm keeping you in place. Torches licked your damp bodies, water trickling down from your fingers, droplets moving between the muscles of his back, carving roads, down till meaty thighs. You wriggled on his shoulder, till he finally placed his palm in front of your soaked cunt, smaller tongue rippling your folds once again.

"Such a needy slut, aren't you?" he grumbled, hand moving closer, with wet lips sucking on your pudgy, exposed clit. "No one ever taught you to be patient? I'll fuck this bratiness out of you."

You could only mewl and soften on his shoulder, legs slightly widening, fingers curling at the feel of this warmth coiling in your belly once again. Seconds later, your back landed on a soft mattress, with clean beddings hugging your naked body, cushions put under your hips, lifting them up up for Sukuna's heated look.

His sanity was hanging by a thread, eyes taking in the plumpness of your thighs, slick dripping down the mattress, knees slightly pushed against your chest, giving him a perfect look at your cunt flapping around nothing. He pushed one finger in, and it sucked him right away, as if in hunger and despair.

"Mhmmm, my God," you whimpered, keeping your legs open, wriggling under the crimson stare of his squinted eyes. "P-please–"

"Please, what? Do you even know what you're asking for?" He spat, a heavy glob leaking directly on your pulsing cunt, melting under the gentle curls of his thumb on your clit.

"P-please put them i-in," your small hands wrapped around his two cocks, putting them riiiight on your shaking belly.

Saying they were massive would be an understatement.

Monstrous? Yes, more like it.

More red than Sukuna's eyes, leaking with sticky precum right on your skin, the sheer length allowing them to go inside your womb straight away, maybe even up to your belly button. Veins curled around both shafts, and it seemed to Sukuna that you were too lost in pleasure to think about them with a sober mind. Because even he started to wonder where all this courage and sluttiness of yours suddenly came from, with little fingers grasping his cocks and gently swiping their feverish heads.

"Want it inside," you whined, cunt still leaking over his single finger already too fat for your clenching walls.

But Sukuna wasn't known for patience or mercy, being a rather brute God from whom female deities tried to stay away. For he never took a wife and used women only to meet his needs. Stories slipping from his chambers always involved a bit of violence and blood, as not one woman was able to withstand his ruthlessness.

It seemed, however, that with you it was different. Felt different. He couldn't really describe this sense, but he wished to give you pleasure only, worship your body till it'll melt under his touch, stuff you full of his cocks and move them gently along your clenching walls, watching the little tears dripping down your chin and enjoying short cries filling his chamber.

And when you spat on your hand, smearing it all over one of his reddened heads, something cracked.

He moved his cocks to your entrance, firstly pushing one. Cruelly. The first stretch felt absolutely brutal, with his wetted shaft going slowly through your walls, pushing against your muscles to let them fit its heaviness.

"N-no, I t-take it back!" You moaned, filling the fatness of his girth filling solely your entrance.

He didn't wait for a second one, because quite soon you felt its head hooking on your hole, stretching your cunt even wider, nasty, with your muscles pounding and head spinning. Black dots started to slowly cover your sight, head lulled back, hands on his belly, trying to push him away. "M-my God, p-please s-slower."

"I can't go any fucking slower," he barked, and you indeed noticed a droplet of sweat forming on his temple. Eyes closed, brows creased, all four arms quivered, when he glued your knees to your chest, pushing allll of his massive body on your weak figure. "Just endure it, fuck. It's gonna get better."

But in fact – it didn't.

At least for a while, because your poor hole took him in raw and needy, with new slick forming around his shaft and soaking it sweetly. His sun-kissed skin glowed under the gentle flames of candles, gaze focused solely on your fluttering hole, with creamy cum looking so delicious, his lower mouth opened once again. Its long tongue started off your pulsing clit, slowly going down to your plugged hole and licking it gently, to give his cocks even more slippery.

Breath knocked out of your lungs, throat tensed when he moved, forcing himself even farther. Seeing how difficult it was for you, with little hiccups melting with moans, his hand cupped your chin, crimson eyes meeting yours.

"Breath, brat. If you want to take them, breathe. That's right, go on, my good fucking girl," he talked you through it, following your slowly rising and falling chest, teary eyes glancing at him with a fever, and hands, slowly, slowly, tangling around his neck. "You're doing so good, so fucking good. Try to relax a bit, because your sweet cunt will cut my dicks off any second."

You purred, feeling his tongue on your neck, teeth grazing your jaw, cocks ripping you raw.

He pushed, with a filthy squelch, till you cried pitifully and clenched on his cocks again, feeling him forcing his way through the tight ring of your muscles. The tear felt delicious, and a fiery pain suddenly disappeared when his shafts kissed your cervix. Mouth on his belly was still working on your pudgy clit, sucking, licking, mewling it, till a shiver went down your spine and head tilted back.

"You see, it wasn't that hard, right?"

"Mhmm m-my God," you bubbled, mind stuppidly foggy.

"You're so tight, fuck. Never had a cunt like this," he licked the skin of your neck, smooched your cheeks, till his lips finally met with yours, eating all the little moans that fled them.

But when his balls finally met with your ass, full cocks placed heavily inside your cunt, he backed off.

Straightened, upper hands pushing the back of your thighs, lower hands on your waist, gripping tight. He was monstrous, towering, with a chest rising heavily, crimson eyes looking down at you with a madness.

"My God?" you asked nervously, seeing the crafty grin that suddenly arose on his face.

"I tried to be gentle, you know?"

Oh.

"It's your first time, right?" he pulled out, viciously, till nothing but tips sat tightly in your cunt.

"But now that you're stretched, I can finally fuck you fully. Don't you agree?"

"W-wait–"

But before you could protest, his hips buckled quickly, brutally, stuffing you with a single move. It was too much, with his cocks almost in your lungs, pressing your belly, filling its little pouch. Breath suddenly stuck in your throat, fresh tears trickling down your cheeks, when the tongue of his belly licked your clit, filthy.

"That's it," he groaned, head lulled back as he took the full pleasure of your walls clamping on his cocks and cervix already swollen from his furious strokes. "That's the pussy I'll kill for, fucking hell," His gaze dropped at you – your pudgy lips, with a saliva dripping down its corners, crossed eyes, and blush spreading all over your chest. "I'm gonna move baby, and you'll take it like a good slut, hm? Gonna stuff you full with my cum till you'll feel it right here," he pressed the bulging pouch on your belly, touching his pulsing heads right through your skin.

And you truly couldn't do anything else than just nod, as he once again pulled out and sank deep with balls hitting your ass, setting the brutal pace, pumping pumping pumping your pussy with his fat griths, smiling slyly upon hearing blubbered moans pushing from your throat.

He truly was cruel, sucking on your clit relentlessly, licking your burning hole sweetly. One hand cupped your jaw, smearing the salty tears all over it, forcing you to look straight into his bloody eyes.

And nothing turned him on more than a gentle melody of your cries and this timid gaze, making his cocks tremble in excitement.

Nothing but filthy squelch squelch squelch was filling his chamber, with you bent in cruel mating press, ass up, slick dripping down your cunt, both cocks splitting you open.

"Such a filthy girl," he growled, thrusting faster, harder, crimson eyes taking in all of your frowns and mewls. "So fucking tight, my sweet cunt. Swallowing me up so obediently, like a good wife you'll be."

You took him inch by inch, every thrust, every shiver, your walls clamping on him feverishly, drenching his shafts in new portions of creamy cum. Moans became so high, he needed to shut you up with a kiss, messy and nasty, kissing, licking your lips, drinking the lovely tune of your voice with a tremble.

"M-my God it feels sooo good, mhmm," you mewled, trying to melt your hand with his fingers, but he gripped your wrists and placed them over your head.

And then you felt it – this warmth coiling in your belly, hitched breath, shortened moand and back arching slightly together with his brutal thrusts and obscene moans.

You were close. So, so close. Gripping him wildly, meeting his thrusts with a frenetic move of your hips, going insane from his lower mouth running mean circles on your clit. The pleasure was maddening, the chamber filled with nothing but filthy slapping of his cocks and his growls, going deep down your throat.

"Ngh, m-my God, I'm g-gonna," you babbled, his true name slipping up between your heavy breath and wet moans.

"I know, brat. Come on, cum for me, let me fill you up sweetly," you nodded, his lips turning in grin. "Such a good fucking girl, my slutty queen, so hungry for my cum, hm? Come on, let me fuck you full and pregnant, fill this heavy tits with milk," your eyes crossed, head lolled back, globs of spit trickled from your lips.

You screamed, convulsed, rolled your hips against his, feeling every tremble, every vein of his sizzling shafts. He pounded you like a madman, pressing his monstrous body against yours, cocks sinking balls deep, kissing your pounding womb with each thrust.

High moan escaped your throat as he worked his way inside you, moulding your walls just to fit his beastly size. Hips jerking, thighs shaking as you felt the warmth in your belly finally spill, clit pulsing under Sukuna's wet tongue, drenching his abdomen mouth with your juices, as it swallowed them hungrily with a final lick.

Sukuna finally stilled, fat heads pushed against your womb, hot cum spilling right inside as he shuddered and pressed your body. It was raw, rough, with a growl that bubbled in his throat and lips kissing your cheeks, trying to distract you from the sheer amount of white ropes he was filling you with, with pulsing cocks and meaty tongue circling your plump clit. "Take it, baby, take it all like my good slutty goddess." He clenched fingers on your jaw, crimson eyes staring right into your. "And now, brat, you'll serve obediently as a queen and will stay the fuck away from the throne."

The room felt messy, filthy, with only your faint cries and a raw hole stretched around his softening cocks. He laid down, pinkish hair on your chest, rutting slowly, just to keep your cunt warm and gluey.

He felt heavy, sweaty, all four arms caging your in a tight embrace, lips twirling around your perked nipples as he mumbled maddly under his nose. He definitely fucked your brains out, but it seemed like the God of War himself was, too, totally and completely down on his knees for this sweet little goddess.

"My God," you mumbled sweetly, fingers going through his pinkish strands. "It seems like you keep forgetting your weight. My breasts–"

Sukuna growled, turning you both swiftly, till your head hit his broad chest, cocks still deep inside your pulsing cunt.

"Better?" he asked, a hint of amusment coilining in his voice, with arms wrapping around your sweaty back.

You only nodded, splaying comfortably on his body.

And how shocked the council was when, on the fourth day, none of the contestants appeared before the Ennead.

All eight gods waited.

Silence stretched long across the marble court, heavy as a coming storm. Incense burned low. The sun climbed higher. Still, no sign of either of you.

Maat, ever watchful, sent a servant to check the chambers, fearing perhaps that a lesser goddess had already fallen prey to a brute’s temper. Whispers coiled between the pillars like snakes. Your mother sat rigid upon her golden throne, fingers crumpling the white silk of her robes, eyes dark with worry she tried, and failed, to conceal.

The servant returned pale, whispering to Maat's ear carefully.

Her face changed – annoyance, curiosity, shock!

"Oh?" Ra chuckled, seeing the deep breath escaping Maat's lips.

She cleared her throat, voice high and steady, as she announced the information.

"Her Goddess Horus and God Set decided to... share the rule over Egypt, by joining in wedlock. Moreover, it seems that Goddess Horus has been..." she stopped, as if gathering thoughts. "Tainted, and thus her status doesn't allow her to become the sole ruler. That's the final decision, and that's what council of Ennead should approve."

And after the small chaos caused by the fainting of Goddess Isis, they approved indeed.

I don't know why, but it was so hard to write! Btw, the thing with semen is real, and in real contendings of Horus and Set, they tried to mark themselves with their semen. At one point, Horus even cummed on a salad and tried to give it to Set.

inside, the engine is running. yuuji’s wailing from the backseat, loud and hiccuping cries that only get worse the longer she ignores him. choso, five years old and small for his age, is twisted around in his booster seat trying to shove a stuffed animal into the baby’s hands, whispering frantic little “it’s okay, it’s okay”s that don’t help.

sukuna is still in uniform. dark soccer jersey clinging damp to his back, the team crest stitched over his chest, grass stains streaked across his socks and shorts. sweat runs down the side of his tanned face, mixing with the heat blooming under her hand.

“so you think you’re funny?” she snaps, grabbing sukuna by the front of his practice jersey. “making me sit here while you show off?”

practice ended ten minutes ago.

sukuna doesn’t answer. he never does, not to her. his red eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking.

her grip tightens. “I have two kids in that car. two! and you think doing stupid little tricks with your friends matters more than my fucking time?”

yuuji’s crying spikes.

“look at what you’re doing!” she shrieks, gesturing wildly toward the car like the baby’s distress is his fault. “you stress him out! you’re selfish, just like your father. always needing attention. god!” she exhales like it’s hard to breathe just thinking about his dad, “zero fucking backbone as a man.”

choso is watching through the window now.

sukuna finally moves, just enough to shrug her fingers off his shirt, slow and controlled.

“It was practice,” he says flatly.

the second slap is louder. harder.

“don’t talk back to me.”

a car drives past the lot entrance and slows. sukuna notices it, makes eye contact with a teammate sitting in the backseat. then the car keeps going.

her eyes flick to the snake bite piercings in her step-son’s bottom lip. her lips pull tight in the same familiar disgust as if the two earrings he got a few months ago wasn’t bad enough. “you’re still putting more garbage like that on your face,” her insides twist, “looking like a degenerate.”

she leans in closer, nails biting into his arm. her voice drops, venomous and low. “you think you’re special because you can kick a ball? you’re not. you’re a burden. do you understand me? a burden I didn’t sign up for, but I’m still forced to take care of.”

yuuji is still crying. choso is getting anxious. sukuna stands there, cheek red from the slap, eyes dry, jaw locked so tight it aches. he doesn’t look at her. he does it on purpose, he’d rather get hit again than look at this woman.

the third slap draws the metallic taste of blood blooming where his teeth cut the inside of his mouth.

kaori pulls her hand up again for a fourth, eyes dark and filled with vicious malice towards this thirteen year old boy. her hand shakes as she watches the boy lick his bloody lip, cold. he never reacts…he acts like she’s beneath him. as if! kaori’s anger bubbles over, hot fury leaking from her pores as she heaves, fingers flexing ready to slap him once more. but she catches sukuna’s gaze flick up at the car, at his brothers.

choso is sticking his head out of the car, eyes rimmed red. “mommy! yuu wont stop crying!”

koari’s head whips around, “choso,” she snaps. “what did I tell you about interrupting me—“

“but he’s—“

“choso!”

choso flinches, eyes brimming with more tears. sukuna’s fist clenches, glare finally flicking up to this women. “he’s just a kid,” he grits.

koari turns back to the thirteen year old. her eyes wild and manic. she can see the disgusting bubbling behind his gaze, the scowl on his face.

“don’t you dare speak about my parenting,” she seethes. her face curls into a snarl. “you’re the parasite. sucking my soul, your brothers souls, your fathers—everyone would be better off without you.”

sukuna remains still. thick brow permanently sewn together, glare cutting through her. her teeth grind, hands trembling with more pent up anger. finally having enough of yuuji’s wailing and choso’s fidgeting, she curls her lip, turning on her heel.

“find your own way home.”

the engine roars as koari pulls out of the lot, leaving a quiet sukuna behind. and only when the car is out of sight does sukuna let his hand tremble and hot tears cascade down his cheeks.

“FUCKFUCKFUCK FUUUCK HERRR!!” sukuna screams at the top of his lungs, slamming his duffle bag on the concrete. again and again. and again. the strap rips, flying against the concrete just for sukuna to drop to his knees, fist rising high before slamming it into the duffle. all his pent up rage unleashes on his equipment, however, his shin guards, cleats, and water bottle are used to it by now. ultimately laying under him as he falls on the pavement, burying his face deep in his duffle, and screaming with all his might.

his throat tearing.

——

“you’re lying.”

sukuna sits across from choso. his jaw locked, eyes dead, and muscles tense.

the tv was turned off minutes ago after sukuna finally came home. the blanket lays on the floor after sukuna ripped it off the fifteen year old, who was passed out on the couch. choso frowns, brown hair a mess, and dark circles under his brown eyes.

“I answered you. you can choose to believe me or not—“

“I don’t,” the eldest cuts, arms crossed, biceps flexing with frustration, glaring at his idiot brother. “why’d she give you that money?”

choso frowns, sweat building on his forehead. “I don’t know. maybe go ask her, since you’re the only one that can talk to her.”

sukuna scowls, biting back his tongue. he runs his hands through his hair. choso watches, back slouched against the couch, sweats and tshirt wrinkled from sleep, and one leg tucked under him. he doesn’t say anything. just observes, and quietly prays that sukuna doesn’t know find anything out.

“yuu’s telling me you’re practicing with y’r friends?”

choso’s eyes widen momentarily, sukuna catches it. “yeah…”

“how often you guys practice? yuu’s makin’ it seem like it’s an everyday thing.”

choso shrugs, “we’re workin’ out a new song, and ino keeps fuckin’ up the drum solo.” sukuna leans back in the arm chair, eyes narrowing. choso frowns noticing the way his older brother is scrutinizing him. he looks away, eyeing the blanket sukuna snatched off him. “can I go back to sleep now?”

sukuna pokes his cheek with his tongue, shrugging.

the teen grumbles, pushing off the couch to head to his room. “whatever. can’t even sleep on the stupid couch without getting bothered—“

“so if I talk to your ino friend, he can tell me where you’ve been?”

choso halts. sukuna doesn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know that his brother stopped. choso’s hands ball into fists, heart thudding, as it always does when he starts fabricating a lie. “you don’t even know who ino is—“

“the kid with the beanie. we met when you told me to fuck off and ran away with em. I remember.”

“I never told you to ‘fuck off’ .” choso tsks, sweat slowly sliding down his back.

sukuna turns, arm over the chair, glaring straight at his brother, “you basically did when that’s the last time you fuckin’ talked t’me. giving me the goddamn silent treatment like I’m your girlfriend.”

choso feels his blood start to pump louder, his eyes narrowing like knives, letting go of all composure, “maybe I just don’t have shit to say to you — ever think of that?!”

sukuna turns even more, “yeah, I don’t miss being a stupid fucking teenager—jesus christ!” he aggressively points at his brother. “you really have no fucking clue the shit I’m keeping from you. that’s why you think you can get fucking angry at me!”

“I don’t give a shit! there’s other people besides you that can think for themselves—!”

sukuna’s hand trembles, eyes burning red.

“if I want to talk to her that’s my choice—“

“you’re fifteen, fuck do you think you are?” sukuna scoffs, cold, “we needa sit down and get ya fucking checked in the head. seriously cho, y’er getting under my fucking skin—“

“good,” he spits, chest heaving.

sukuna’s jaw locks. “give me y’er phone.”

choso’s eyes widen, immediately taking a step back, “no-why?”

“gonna call your friend,” sukuna reaches for choso’s pocket, but the teen is quickly dodging, deflecting his brother’s arm,

“I’m gonna tell gramps—!”

“tell him!”

as strong and intimidating as sukuna is to outsiders. he’s also the eldest of three boys, and will ultimately fall on the ground tackling his teenage brother. and unlike the frat, sukuna has never raised a fist or hand, to either of his little brothers. the most his soul can do, is physically overpower them.

which has led to choso’s arm getting pinned under his brothers knee. sukuna straddling the younger’s chest, letting the teen thrash beneath him as he keeps a hand pressed to choso’s cheek, other hand grabbing at the phone that has fallen to the ground.

“you started going to the gym, ya little shit?” sukuna grunts.

choso groans in frustration, arms flexing to grab his brothers shirt. “get off me!”

“fuck’s your password?” sukuna attempts, typing out choso’s birthday. incorrect. yuu’s birthday. incorrect. his birthday. incorrect. sukuna frowns.

“woahhh dudeee, what’s going on?”

the color drains from choso’s face. his eyes bulging as he tilts his head back.

standing tall and curious — his best friend — ino.

it takes, a little under, a second for sukuna to glance up, spotting the boy, then the beanie, then choso’s reaction.

“ino?”

ino freezes, eyes widening as he makes direct eye contact with choso’s very intimidating, very scary, older brother. “y-YES?”

choso’s eyes look like they’re going to burst from their sockets. he’s aggressively shaking his head, struggling underneath the two hundred pound athlete. “go home ino—“

“stay.”

ino freezes, sweat quickly building under his beanie.

“don’t—listen to him,” choso falls back, sukuna letting go, no longer fighting over the phone. choso turns on his knees, eyes wide when he sees sukuna already walking up to his friend.

“did you guys do anything other than practice with your band this week?” sukuna’s first question already had ino glancing at choso. “don’t look at him, look at me.” ino’s eyes snap to sukuna, sweating. “now answer.”

“hey dude—“

“I’m not ‘yr fuckin dude,” sukuna barks, patience paper thin.

choso tsks, fixing his torn shirt from the tackling earlier, staring directly at his friend, as if that’ll get them to communicate telepathically. forgetting that ino secretly admires his older brother.

“we got a couple burgers from the diner and uh we went again after the school’s soccer game yesterday—“

“choso went to a game?” sukuna’s brow hits the ceiling, whipping his head to see choso frowning.

“is that so surprising?” he says.

sukuna’s eyes narrow. “you wouldn’t go—“ he stops. an uncomfortable twist preventing him from finishing the sentence. he turns back to ino. “can you drive?”

ino shakes his head.

“who’s driving ya both around town then?”

“maru,” ino replies, quickly elaborating before sukuna snaps again. “he’s a friend and plays base, for our band and he was the one driving last time when you—“

“so choso didn’t go anywhere alone?”

ino hesitates.

choso takes a step forward, sweat trickling down his back as ino chokes. idiot! choso screams internally, eyes snapping to his brother. he definitely noticed that!

sukuna’s crossed arms flex in anger, pushing further, the room bending around him causing the teens to sweat buckets, “where’d he go—“

ino loses it—

“he just left to talk to a girl and got rejected—real bad— that was the only time he left—but also when we’re in school, since we have separate classes. but he just got rejected by a girl he has a crush on during the soccer game so we ditched during halftime.”

the house is dead silent.

sukuna blinks.

his brother’s friend really is a fucking character. his head drops forward, fingers rubbing his eyes, aware of the two boys holding their breaths as he realigns his thoughts, grinding down on his teeth.

ino shoots his friend a nervous look. the other frowns shrugging at him before lifting a finger to his lips, easily mimicking a don’t say anything else face.

the sharp inhale of the six foot so man has both teens looking back at him.

“you going out to practice now?”

the question hangs in the air. neither boy responding, they’re so shocked. but once sukuna looks back at choso, and the teen catches the anger slowly dissipating from his brother — he nods.

sukuna turns away, walking further into the house towards his yuuji’s room, the exhaustion hangs heavy on his taunt shoulders. ready to crash.

choso watches. silent, heart thudding against his ribs, until—

“so you believe me now?”

sukuna halts.

the sharp jab hangs in the air.

sukuna’s back is turned. ino hold his breath, eyes clenching shut in panicked anxiety, heart thudding agaisnt his chest. why does he have to be in the middle of this???

sukuna rolls his neck back. a crack. his glare pierces the air, holding choso in place.

“watch it,” he mutters, low.

choso averts his gaze, eyes flicking toward the kitchen like he’s suddenly interested in anything but sukuna. his face twists into a sharp, frustrated scowl, hair a mess from his older brother’s rough handling. yet…he stays quiet. for once.

the silence stretches, tense and unnatural, as sukuna rolls his neck back again, another crack slipping out as he finally turns away. his patience is gone. whatever energy he had left is gone. he doesn’t say anything else. just walks off.

his steps are heavier now as he disappears down the hall and into his old room. the door clicks shut behind him, finally ending the interrogation.

only then do choso and ino move. ino lets out a breath he’d been holding, glancing back at him. “dude, i—”

“not here,” choso cuts in sharply.

he’s already moving to his room, fast and clearly agitated. he grabs his guitar, shoving it into its case, he yanks his backpack off the chair. there’s no second thought or pause. he doesn’t even bother with a change of clothes, or the bathroom. he just wants out of the house.

ino watches for half a second before following, the two of them slipping out as quickly as they can.

meanwhile, sukuna’s body feels like it’s shutting down. his thighs ache from the week, his back tight from the studying stress and impromptu practice, his shoulders are heavy like they’re carrying something he still can’t fucking shake. and his head won’t stop pounding. all his thoughts stack onto one another, overlapping and refusing to quiet down. he doesn’t have the energy anymore.

so when he pushes open the door to what used to be his room—now yuuji’s—he barely registers anything. megumi’s curled up on the air mattress in the middle of the room, and yuuji’s splayed half over the covers of the full sized bed. sukuna simply crosses the small room, and drops onto the empty side of the bed. the mattress dips under his weight, drawing a small shuffle from yuuji, but sukuna’s already gone. his eyes shut, and his body gives out the second he hits the sheets.

———

your lips part into a small smile, eyes soft but distant, your mind is already drifting somewhere else as your stomach churns with something uneasy. utahime invited a few of her friends out with you and shoko, and the place is packed. the bar is crowded, loud, warm, and full of people clinging to the last bit of freedom before summer actually begins.

everyone’s talking about something. internships, trips, plans, and you find yourself wondering how many people in here would rather stay exactly where they are than go home. there’s definitely a few. it’s not just you. but utahime isn’t one of them.

she’s mid-conversation with the girls she brought, laughing lightly as she talks about still deciding whether to take that internship or not. you catch pieces of it, enough to make your chest tighten, and you hate yourself for it. you’re happy for her. of course you are. but god—you’d take anything over going back home in a few weeks to work at the hospital.

“are you sure?” shoko interrupts, her drink already half gone, eyes flicking over you like she knows you’ve been somewhere else this entire time.

you snort, nodding. “obviously. my sister isn’t gonna be in her room anyway.”

shoko sighs in relief, shoulders dropping. “thank yooou, i would’ve taken your floor too.”

you laugh, shaking your head, but it fades quickly. your mind drifts again. your chest tightens.

you really are a fucking failure.

the thought hits hard this time, sitting heavier in your stomach. three years in school and you couldn’t land a single internship. not one. all you wanted was to try something—anything—that isn’t doing clinics at a fucking hospital. you just wanted to see what another life would be like. one that wouldn’t make you anxious, or have you feeling empty.

but no. life has other plans.

and those plans are dragging you back home for another suffocating summer, stuck in a hospital you hate, with your father watching you too closely, asking too many questions about a future you don’t even understand yourself. and god forbid you say you’re unsure. even worse is the look they give you when you admit you’re still figuring things out. and you can’t even stand up for yourself, which everyone loved to shove in your face.

seriously! three years in and you’re still lost? it’s pathetic. you press your lips together, jaw tightening as the thoughts spiral. they’re constant, familiar. and then—

the door swings open. a burst of noise cuts through the bar as a group of rowdy frat boys and athletes pile in. they’re laughing loud, and their energy is immediate. many heads turn instinctively, the shift in atmosphere familiar to the group.

shoko is the first to notice.

“oh they made it.” she’s already grinning as she spots her two close friends in the bunch. “yo!” she calls. your brows pinch slightly as you glance over. gojo and geto spotting their brunette friend, dragging along a surprisingly willing nanami, behind them. a few others flood in as well, loud and chaotic as ever.

you subtly sit up in anticipation. your eyes quietly scanning the group without meaning to.….

where is he?

you swallow, something tight forming in your throat as you shift in your seat, crossing your legs slowly, like it’ll ground you. he left your apartment yesterday afternoon. you don’t know when exactly, all you remember is the quiet disappointment you felt when you sat up on your bed, half expecting him to come out of the bathroom and give you another rough round of sex, to mush your brain up.

that’s the whole point of this. he’s left like this many times before. but this time you just…you wanted a little more before the break…

your gaze flicks back to the door, then to the group again.

he’s not here. does that mean he went back home already? that fast? your jaw tightens, fingers curling slightly around your glass as something uneasy settles deeper in your chest. you sure as hel didn’t come here for him, but now that your brain won’t quiet down, you wanted him to silence it for you.

“are these your first drinks?” gojo barks as he drops onto the stool across from you and shoko, already leaning too far forward like he’s been here for hours instead of minutes.

geto slides into the empty seat beside you, casual as ever, lifting your glass and bringing it to his nose. his brows knit almost immediately. “what—is this a virgin?”

shoko snorts, shoulders shaking beside you. you wave him off lazily, lips curling. “i was just warming myself up.”

“you warm yourself up with a drink before shots, not with a virgin!” gojo fires back, loud enough that a couple people nearby glance over in annoyance.

shoko leans across the table, sliding her drink toward him. “your warm-up is all you usually need, satoru.”

the frat president scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m actually much better at holding my liquor now.”

the lie sits there. then.

gojo, two drinks in and one shot later: wasted. you, one drink in and three shots later: wasted.

the bar is chaos. the music is too loud, lights too warm, voices overlapping until everything blends into one loud, buzzing blur. at some point, utahime’s friends join the table, then more people, then somehow you all migrate toward the dart boards in the back.

you’re laughing too loud. leaning too much. mostly on shoko. sometimes on gojo—who is absolutely no help, because he’s swaying just as bad, arm slung over your shoulders, yelling nonsense in your ear.

nanami stands off to the side, drink in hand, watching the two of you with thinly veiled disapproval, though there’s a faint hint of amusement in his eyes. geto’s not far behind him, a little too relaxed now, watching everything unfold like it’s entertainment as a few guys from the team chat with him.

and then there’s hiromi higurama. nanami’s friend, that rarely, if ever, makes an appearance. he’s a first year law student, who’s overstressed, sharp as shit, and he’s put-together in a way that doesn’t match the rest of you. but he’s here, along with a couple other law and grad students, leaning against the table like he got dragged here and decided to stay anyway. he’s older by only a couple years, but it shows in the way he carries himself and in the way he watches.

utahime lines up her shot. “comeback comeback,” she chants confidently. you and shoko are laughing, booing her as she squints, closing one eye, then the dart flies.

it hits the board, and of course, she immediately loses her balance— “shit!—” she stumbles back, catching herself and slamming right into you.

your footing slips just enough, a surprised laugh bursting out of you as you tip backwards. why’re you always falling?!

but then hand catches you. it’s steady and firm. higurama’s arm wraps around you just enough to keep you upright, pulling you back against the edge of the table before you can actually fall.

“careful,” he mutters, low, close to your ear.

you’re already laughing.

“i’m good—i’m good,” you insist, even though you’re still half-leaning into him for a second longer than necessary, your balance completely shot. and he doesn’t move right away. his arm loosens around your waist, but hovers close as you sway. his eyes soften, quietly watching you as you slap utahime lightly on the shoulder.

geto notices. his brows furrow slightly, just for a second, catching the way higurama’s gaze lingers. it’s subtle, but there.

meanwhile, you’re completely oblivious. already turning back, leaning into shoko again as gojo starts arguing about the rules of darts like he invented the fucking game.

“nahh you literally had us playing a different version last time,” you hiccup, words slurring together as you try to explain gojo’s made up rules he came up with a few weeks ago. no one fully understanding the direction of the conversation anymore as gojo scoffs, swaying as he shakes his head.

“no no no, last,” he hiccups, “last time, we were playing as individuals, now we’re—hic—we’re going—doing teams!”

“what’re you guys talking about?” higurama voice lowers, leaning down slightly, lips ghosting your ear so you can hear him over the music, eyes still on you.

“just something that happened at one of their frat parties,” you explain, gesturing vaguely toward gojo and geto, who are now mid-argument with utahime over who actually won the last round. your laugh bubbles up again, light, careless.

the rest of the night blurs. unaware of how your friends became just as distracted, and careless, that when you felt the same voice ghost your ear again, your mind couldn’t help the blurred image it was conjuring up.

“you want me to grab you some water?” the smooth voice of higurama had you swaying closer to hear him. he leans in, basically yelling over the music to repeat what he’d asked.

your hazy eyes hum, smiling widely when he passes you and the rest of the table some water bottles.

as the bar came to a close, your small group migrated to the pier. gojo and geto easily buying a couple six packs from the liquor store and meeting the rest of you guys on the picnic bench. gojo and nanami were in a heated argument about summer plans, whilst shoko sat on the table smoking her cigarette and passing up another drink.

“do you even here yourself,” nanami scoffs with uncanny annoyance. his face is dusted pink from the alcohol. his navy sweater is off and tossed over his shoulder, white tee straining over a surprising build of pure muscle. his large hand is still holding his half empty can of beer as he sneers at his high school friend.

“yeah i sound like a fucking genius—“

“I just told you I’m not—hic— I’m not gonna be free,” nanami is wasted, you guess he was just as a stressed during finals week. his jaw clenches as gojo laughs louder.

“you said you finish your work thing end of July, so the trip is planned for the next day!”

shoko and geto are in hysterics as gojo rage baits their poor friend. you’re still chatting with utahime, yuno, and higurama—wait—

“shouldn’t you be like, busy?” your voice cuts as you point to the stranger, higurama, with a raised brow.

the law student glances over. it isn’t a struggle when he’s been straddling the bench to lean an arm on the table and face you for the entirety of the time. a casual smile graces his lips, glancing at your expectant eyes, before shrugging.

“why would i be busy?”

“because you’re older, and in law school, so you should be busy, not—not hanging out with lo-hic-losers,” you slur. no filter much?

utahime gasps, her pale cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “I’m not a loser!”

yuno nods, absentmindedly, hand subtly brushing utahime’s wrist.

who isn’t drunk here?

“you know what I mean,” you mutter, speaking over the rim of your can. drinking sucks.

higurama raises a brow, fingers drumming over the surface of the table. his tie hangs around his shoulders and his dress shirt sleeves are rolled up. he quietly studies you. “I finished finals too. are law students not allowed to relax?”

you quietly absorb his words, glancing at his eyes then away. you shrug.

the man smiles, swinging his leg over, moving to stand up.

your eyes widen. wait, is he leaving??

“I’ll see ya kento,” he swings back the rest of his drink and leaves it with the rest of the empty cans on the table. he spares you a final glance, then walks away.

“what the—“ you gape, eyes snapping to utahime and yuno, drunk as shit and jaws agape. “that wasn’t because of me?”

“you basically asked him why the fuck he’s hanging out with us,” yuno calls out, utahime nods.

your face flushes hot, stomach churning with guilt, “that wasn’t—I didn’t say it like that.”

“sounded like it, babe,” utahime quietly agrees.

your brows furrow, glancing back at the man walking away. “now I feel bad,” you cringe at yourself, heart beating against your chest as you move before thinking, which usually happens when you get drunk.

“what’re you doing??” utahime gasps as you start sprinting towards higurama.

“to apologize!”

however, running and drinking wasn’t a very good combo, not only were you swaying, but your stomach was turning in a very familiar way.

“higu—“

your eyes widen. fuck.

you quickly detour to the bushes, stomach emptying onto the poor greenery. why are things turning out this way?

“why’d you do that?” the soft, firm hand on your back, briefly startles you, but you turn, puking some more. eyes tearing up.

“can you call ryo?” you mutter, mind still lost and not grasping the present.

“ryo?” higurama gently guides you to the empty bench closer to the water, and away from the bushes you barfed on. “sit down.”

you listen, body unable to unwind, as you rest your back against the seat, eyes distant as the waves crash. you swallow thickly, still catching your breath. the nausea lingers, sour and stubborn, sitting heavy in your chest.

“never mind,” you mumble after a second, voice hoarse. “ryo’s not here.” the words come out softer than you expect, and then they land. your brows pinch faintly. you’re only now realizing what you just said, who you just asked for. your stomach twists again—but this time it’s not from the alcohol.

higurama doesn’t comment on it. he just watches you for a moment longer before shifting beside you, settling onto the bench with a quiet exhale. his legs stretch out in front of him, dress shoes planted against the pavement, knees spread just enough to take up space. his sleeves are still rolled up to his forearms, the fabric slightly wrinkled now, the night has worn on him too. one hand rests loosely against his thigh, the other drapes along the back of the bench—close enough to you without actually touching.

for a while, neither of you say anything. just the sound of the water, waves crashing softly against the pier, steady. the noise fills the silence without demanding anything from it. you stare out at it, eyes unfocused, your mind drifting somewhere you don’t want to follow.

then, quietly…

“why did you….why did you decide on law?” it comes out almost absent. it feels like you’re asking just to fill the space. that’s what you tell yourself. but you quietly wait for his answer.

higurama glances at you, just briefly, before his gaze returns to the water. he takes his time answering. “i want to help people,” he says at first, simple, but his voice doesn’t stop there. “not in the… uh idealistic way people say it,” he adds, quieter now. “not like—saving the world or anything like that. the world’s fucking shit and people are cruel...”

you glance at him quietly.

his jaw shifts slightly, choosing his words carefully. “i just… didn’t like how often people get stuck with decisions that aren’t really theirs. bad situations. bad systems. and no one actually explains anything to them.” he exhales softly through his nose, fingers tapping once against his leg. “so i figured if i study it, maybe i could make it a little less unfair for someone.”

there’s no arrogance in it. no need for validation. just matter-of-fact.

you look away from him, eyes fixed on the water, watching the way it moves. the constant, endlessness of it… it knows where it’s going even when you don’t. your chest tightens faintly, something uncomfortable settling deep in your ribs, because he sounds so sure. even in the way he talks about it, even with his pauses, he still chose something and committed to it. like he knows why he’s here…unlike you,

your fingers curl slightly in your lap. “that’s…” you start, but the word trails off, dissolving before it can become anything real. you don’t finish it. instead, you just nod a little to yourself, swallowing whatever else was going to come out, letting the silence settle back in.

this time, it feels heavier.

he’s quiet for a moment after you trail off, the sound of the water filling in the space again. then, without looking at you, he asks, “why are you doing medicine?”

the question hits harder than it should. it’s simple. but it lands somewhere deep. your breath stutters, just slightly, and before you can stop it—before you can control it—you feel it. that awful, tight pressure climbing up your chest, wrapping around your throat like a wire pulling too tight.

fuck. this is why you hate drinking.

your eyes sting, vision blurring as you blink once, then again, trying to push it back down, but it doesn’t work. it never really does when you’re like this, when everything is already sitting too close to the surface. this is the reason you drank. you just wanted one night. one stupid, fun night with your friends before you all go for the summer. not this.

a tear slips down your cheek. then another. its’s quiet, you mood unannounced. higurama notices immediately, because you don’t even try to hide it.

“i don’t know,” you admit, voice small and uneven. your gaze stays forward, locked on the water like if you look anywhere else you might actually break. “i don’t know if i wanna do it… but like—” your throat tightens, words catching. “i don’t know what to do.”

it comes out in pieces. fragile. honest even though you didn’t mean to be and in a way you rarely ever just say without feeling like you’re being judged. but you’re too drunk to feel insecure or embarrassed.

higurama doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t rush to fill the silence. his gaze drifts back to the waves, giving you space while he stays right there beside you.

his arm, that was resting on the back of the bench, gently brushes your arm. steady, grounding, and nothing more. it’s not possessive. not suggestive. just… there. and you don’t even realize that he’s not looking at you like that, anymore. not right now. whatever flicker of interest was there earlier is gone and now replaced with something calmer and more aware.

you swallow, voice quieter now. “did you always know what you wanted?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “or did you just… force yourself to like it?”

higurama exhales softly, leaning back against the bench, arm still resting around you. his head tilts slightly as he looks out at the water again, thinking.

“I highly doubt anyone knows what they’re doing,” he says after a beat. “people just get better at pretending they do.” there’s a faint edge of something dry in his tone. “people talk about ‘paths’ like they’re set. like you pick one thing and it just… works out.” he shakes his head slightly. “it doesn’t. it’s more like… a series of decisions you keep making, even when you’re not sure they’re right.”

his fingers tap lightly against your arm, absent and thoughtful. “law’s the same way. I mean you build a case with what you have, not what you wish you had. you take the risk, present the argument, and hope it holds.” he pauses. “sometimes it doesn’t.”

you nod slowly, even if your chest still feels tight, trying to absorb his words, trying to make it mean something for you. “so what if it doesn’t?” you murmur, voice still unsteady. “what if i’m already behind?”

he glances at you this time, properly. “behind who?” he asks simply.

you hesitate.

“…everyone,” you admit, quieter. “i’ve been doing the same thing every summer at a hospital. same place. same freaking thing. and everyone else is… doing something.”

“do you have something else you wanna try?” he asks.

you shrug, small, helpless. “i don’t know…” your voice dips, wavering, but you push through it anyway. “i want to do something else… but i don’t have something, like, to show for it. like an internship for it, or—” you swallow hard, the words catching before they can fully form, cutting yourself off before it turns into something else. you shrug instead, tighter this time, like you’re trying to make it seem smaller than it feels.

higurama watches you for a second, piecing together what you’re actually saying underneath it.

“you still have the hospital, though,” he says evenly. it’s not dismissive, he’s just stating it.

you make a face immediately, gaze dropping. “yeah…”

“are you there the whole summer?”

you shake your head. “no… just a few weeks. my dad makes me do it every summer.”

there’s a small pause.

“then what’s stopping you?” he asks.

you blink, glancing at him like the question doesn’t fully register at first. “from what?”

“from trying something else for the rest of it,” he says simply. “you’re acting like you need something official to justify trying something else. you don’t.”

his shoulders lift in a small shrug. “internships are just structured ways to prove interest. they’re not the only way to have it.”

your brows pinch slightly, listening.

“if you already know you don’t like the hospital, then fine. do your time there,” he continues, tone calm, grounded. “but after that? you’ve got like a month or a few weeks or whatever to do something else. you don’t need a title to start figuring something out, and I’m guessing you just wanted the title to show that you’re not behind.”

he glances at you again, more direct now. his voice softens just a fraction. “you don’t need to be good at it yet. you just need to start somewhere. but if your parents are anything like mine, then I’m guessing they just want you to do something in the summer.”

you nod, quietly.

“don’t stress too much. people change their minds every day, and at least you’re interested in something else,” he speaks like it’s that easy, and maybe in your drunk mind, your walls have come down low enough to really listen. and it could also be because you’ve heard of higurama and how hard working he is from nanami. so maybe his words mean a little more than your dad, or your sisters. “what exactly do you wanna do?”

you wet your lips, and higurama quietly notes how you’ve stopped crying. “I wanna work in film, like screenwriting, or producing.”

his eyes widen. “for real?”

you nod, swallowing the anxious feelings threatening to bubble up after admitting it to a complete stranger. “I’m minoring in film right now, but i really like it.”

higurama hums, sitting up straighter. “you’re working at your dad’s hospital in the summer?”

“it’s not my dad’s hospital, he’s an attending there, but like it’s not like he owns it—but yeah,” you correct, a slight tone shift in your voice, which higurama dismisses.

he reaches for his phone, arm moving from around your shoulder. “pretty sure my uncle has some crazy contacts. he…was anentertainment lawyer for this production company a couple years ago. if you want I can see if he can give me a contact and try and introduce you for some informational meeting or something.”

your eyes burst with light.

“wait for real???”

higurama nods, “everything is about fucking connections in that industry.” you nod along as he finds his uncle’s contact, texting him, then handing you his phone. “add your number and email so I can send them to him too when he gets the contact.” you nod again, sitting straight as you quickly type your info. “have you had any meetings with industry people?”

you shake your head, “just like, meetings with my professors,” you hand him back his phone.

“no stress,” higurama reassures, saving your contact and turning his phone off. “most first meetings like these always go the same. it’s about networking and you have a connection, so hopefully when my uncle introduces you to whoever, you have to make sure you get out of that meeting with another contact, and it’s just like a string until something sticks.”

you’re nodding along.

“wait,” your eyes widen. he quirks a brow. “I’m like really drunk, I don’t wanna forget this,” you freak.

higurama snorts, pulling up your contact again, “I’ll text you what I just said,” he slouches on the bench, amused when you lean close watching him type everything.

“you got it man?!” gojo slurs, him and geto crowded around his phone as they watch their soccer captain scowl at them through facetime.

“I can’t understand a fucking word you idiots are saying,” he snaps from the other side.

gojo groans, nanami’s head popping in as he turns gojo’s wrist. “we’re planning the trip—and he’s not listening to anyone—“

“you’re the one that’s not listening, i gave you dates that work—“

“they don’t work!” nanami barks, face flaming with anger and the liquor he should put down.

sukuna licks his teeth, “call me back when you dickheads are sober—“

“waaaaittt,” gojo whines, freeing his wrist from nanami’s grip with tug, and inevitably falling off the seat. his phone clatters on the floor. another figure picks it up.

utahime.

“oh, you.” she frowns at the sight of the man. sukuna frowns in return. unlike gojo and geto and the rest of the guys that loosely know about his relationship with you. he’s assuming shoko and utahime are definitely less forgiving of the argument you guys had, and even if you made up, he doubts you filled them in since it was less than 48 hours ago. “just because—“ hiccup.

great, everyone is drunk.

“because you’re sleeping with my best friend, d-doesn’t mean I like you—“ utahime slurs, pointing at the screen. at sukuna. “and she’s—“

yuno who’s sitting beside her, drunk, smiles, “hey cap.”

in the minor distraction, utahime waves her crush to shh. “did you hear what I said—“

“yeah. did ya talk to her, or are you too drunk?” sukuna grumbles in disinterest, ready to hang up any second. he moves from his place on the couch, to the kitchen. yuuji, megumi, and their other friend, nobara, are still shouting in the background. video game blasting in the living room.

“no I’m not talking to her, she’s over there talking to k-ken’s friend and—hic—I’m talking to you right now, duh,” utahime scoffs.

sukuna’s movements halt.

huh?

“who?” he asks before thinking.

utahime glances over at yuno pointing off screen. “what was his name—oh higu—higu-“

“higurama?”

utahime hums, “yeah, higurama. nanami’s law friend. they’re talking over there.” she raises the phone without really thinking, flipping the screen toward the pier.

the camera wobbles for a second before it steadies, and there you are. not with them. not near the table. you’re off to the side, sitting on one of the benches closer to the water, the distance obvious even through the shitty front camera quality. the rest of the group is loud, clustered together under the dim pier lights, but you drifted off and just stayed there.

you’re leaning in slightly, shoulder angled toward higurama, your body turned to face him more than anything else. close enough to look familiar. close enough to look comfortable.

he’s saying something—something sukuna can’t hear—and for a second, he lifts his phone between you, showing you something on the screen. but from this angle, it just looks like you’re sitting back, smiling at him, soft and distracted, your voice faint in the background as it carries over the speaker. whatever you’re saying, it’s looser and easy. too easy.

something in sukuna’s stomach twists, sharp and unpleasant. he pushes it down immediately.

“why’re they talking away from the rest of you?” he asks, voice flat, edged with something colder than it needs to be. he pulls out a drink from the fridge.

utahime squints at the screen, words a little slurred. “she was kinda mean—not really—but like, she’s drinking—which is—we should stop—but she went to apologize and now they’re talking.” she shrugs, already half over it.

gojo suddenly leans into frame, grinning like he just found something unbelievably entertaining. “oh yeah—you see ’em?” he laughs, keeping the phone angled right on you and higurama.

sukuna clicks his tongue, irritation slipping through. “why’re you fucking laughing?”

“because you’re pissed,” gojo shoots back instantly, grin widening.

sukuna scowls, jaw tightening. “i’m not fucking pissed, you fucking idiot.”

but his eyes don’t leave the screen. don’t leave you. and they don’t miss the way you tilt your pretty head when you listen. the way you shift a little closer without thinking. the way your attention is fully on someone else. his grip tightens slightly around his phone, looking away.

are you gonna text him before or after you fuck this guy, he thinks. his tongue drags slow against his teeth, jaw tightening as he leans back slightly, eyes glancing up at his brother and his friends.

“oh—they’re coming back!” gojo calls suddenly, voice bright with amusement.

and sure enough, you’re walking back toward the group with higurama right beside you, like nothing ever happened. like you didn’t just disappear with him for however long. you’re still talking, hands moving as you explain something, a little too animated, a little too loose from the alcohol. your head tips toward him when he responds, eyes flicking up to his face again—and again—and again.

higurama says something that makes you laugh, and it’s soft, quieter than the way you usually laugh with them. your shoulder brushes his arm for a second as you walk, not even noticing it

sukuna’s expression doesn’t change. but something inside his stomach hardens. his gaze tracks you the entire way back, slow, deliberate. the way you close the distance. the way you don’t rush it. the way you look…comfortable. his grip shifts on the phone, thumb pressing harder than necessary against the edge. he’s leaning against the counter, jaw tight when your hand fixes the strap of your top, laughing when shoko makes a comment he barely hears.

“see?” gojo hums, smug, leaning closer to the camera. “you got competition now.”

sukuna exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “shut the fuck up.”

gojo cackles loudly, and you glance over. “who’re you guys talking too?” you slide beside nanami, leaning over just for gojo to turn the screen towards you.

your stomach flips so fast it almost hurts. your whole body heats in an instant. ryo. it slips out before you even think about it. and you don’t realize how soft it sounds until you say it again, a little lighter this time, a small smile pulling at your lips like it’s second nature. your tone is gentler than usual, looser—too loose—and it’s obvious. you’re drunk. so drunk. because why are you saying his name like that?

why does it feel so easy?

on the other end, sukuna stills for half a second. it doesn’t stop the way something warm settles low in his stomach. behind you, higurama’s attention shifts at the name. his gaze drifts over your shoulder, landing on the screen. the familiar face tattoos clicks almost immediately.

…oh. so that’s who you were calling. sukuna…but…ryo? his brows knit faintly, something quiet and curious settling in his chest. are you guys dating?

he doesn’t ask it out loud. just watches. you don’t notice any of it, too busy leaning closer into frame, lips parting as you talk. “you’re missing out,” you say, voice bright despite the slight slur. “we were playing darts earlier and you should’ve been here because freaking gojo was being an ass about the rules again—” you laugh, the memory still obnoxiously funny.

and sukuna hates himself a little. hates the way his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. the way he nods once, slow. the way his neck cracks as he tilts his head back, trying to ease the tension sitting there.

from the living room behind him, one of his brother yells about something, loud and distant, but it barely registers because you’re still on his screen. you’re not dating. you guys have both been very clear about the terms and conditions. so why not indulge? you’re free. he’s free. there are conditions for a reason—

“i’ll send you the video when i get home,” you add lightly, like it’s nothing. “my phone died.”

and just like that, everything in his head goes quiet. because now he’s going to be waiting for it. waiting for you to text him. and fuck if he’ll ever admit that shit.

“…yeah,” he hums, softer than before, almost absent, like it just slipped out. his eyes don’t leave the screen or more specifically, you.

your face fills it completely now. your lips, the ones he knows too well, the taste of them when you roll your tongue over his. your cheeks, the ones that get damp the second he fucks you a little harder. your eyes— those same eyes. the ones that look up at him like you want something. like you expect something. like he’s the only one that can give it to you.

his grip tightens just slightly around the phone. and for a second he forgets anyone else is even there. and even if gojo took the phone away and sukuna basically hung up afterwards. he ignored whatever tug he felt in his chest. and he seriously couldn’t care to answer gojo’s calls again.

“are you gonna play with us now?” yuuji calls as sukuna makes his way back.

“yeah,” sukuna simply confirms, dropping back onto the couch.

he doesn’t catch the way yuuji’s entire face lights up, and how quick the kid straightens, already reaching for the controller—because the front door suddenly slams open so hard it rattles the walls.

“what the fuc—” sukuna snaps, already halfway up again.

two high schoolers freeze in the doorway. choso is slumped between them. one of them, ino, goes rigid the second his eyes land on sukuna. the other, mechamaru, panics instantly, hands fumbling where they’re hooked under choso’s arms.

“what the hell is his brother doing here?!” mechamaru screeches, trying to pivot like he can somehow leave with choso still half-dragged between them.

“shit—I forgot he came this morning!” ino swears.

“you forgot—?” mechamaru freaks.

they’re somehow out the door again, then they both stall on the front steps. because the air shifts, drops, and something heavier settles in the space between them. sukuna is standing at the door, blocking the light from reaching them, creating a shadow over the high schoolers.

“what the fuck happened to him?” sukuna barks. his tone is sharp, cutting right through them. they turn back slowly.

sukuna is down the two steps in seconds. his hand comes up, gripping choso’s jaw, forcing his head up. choso barely resists, head lolling slightly, eyes glassy and unfocused. his cheeks are flushed, lips parted, breath uneven—

and it hits him. the smell. sukuna’s expression twists instantly, something dark snapping into place behind his eyes.

“is he drunk?” he asks. but it’s not really a question. his grip tightens. “answer me.”

mechamaru confesses instantly. “we got asked to play at a party, and we went because it’ll also be great practice, before the competition, but after—“ he glances at ino, now hesitant. “we were dragged to do drinks.”

“by who?” sukuna is already grabbing his brother, easily tossing his arm over his shoulder and lifting the teen up. choso mutters something incoherent.

“these guys from the baseball team.”

sukuna’s face twists, “baseball?” the disgust in his tone was evident.

ino fixes his beanie, nodding. “yeah, guess it was their party, but um I’m pretty sure they’re friends with these guys that’are also gonna play at the concert, and it looks like they were picking at us.”

“doesn’t explain why cho’s the only one that can’t fucking walk,” sukuna barks. the two teens confusing him even more.

the two nod frantically. “yeah, choso got pissed when he realized we just played our new songs to a bunch of ops, so he wanted to prove them wrong.”

sukuna deadpans. “and you two let ‘him?”

ino quickly replies, fidgeting with his hair that peaks from his beanie. “no, we told him not too. but by the time he agreed, those baseball dicks told us to shut the fuck up, and they wouldn’t let us get to him until choso ended up like this.”

sukuna licks his teeth, jaw tight as he glances at choso.

“we got him out the second they let go of us,” mechamaru adds.

sukuna silently notes the concern written on the faces of his little brother’s friends.

“do you know how much he drank?”

the two glance at one another, shifting their weight, before shaking their heads in defeat.

sukuna straightens up. choso’s head lulls to his shoulder.

“woah, what happened to cho?”

a small voice booms from behind them. yuuji stands at the door, eyes wide and brows pulled together. megumi and nobara glance from their seats on the floor.

“he’s not feeling well,” sukuna responds. he dismisses the two high schoolers, and turns back to the house.

choso groans as he’s hoisted up the two steps. the front door slams behind them.

“is he drunk?” yuuji blurts, already stepping in the way, trying to peer up at choso’s face.

“yuuuuji,” choso slurs, head lolling toward him, cheeks flushed an ugly shade of pink.

“yuuji, grab some water for him,” sukuna cuts in, already moving, arm hooked tight around choso as he drags him further into the house. he doesn’t make it past the hallway when—

“wait—” choso chokes, eyes widening, hand coming up weakly, “i’m gonna puke—”

“shit—”

sukuna doesn’t hesitate. he yanks him sideways, practically hauling him into the bathroom and shoving him down in front of the toilet just in time. choso barely gets his hands on the seat before he’s throwing up. loud. violent. his whole body jerks with it, his shoulders heaving as he gags, groaning in between, completely gone.

sukuna stands over him for a second, jaw tight, watching him?, then he crouches down, hand bracing his shoulder so he doesn’t tip forward.

“fuckin’ idiot,” he mutters under his breath, but it lacks bite.

choso retches again, weaker this time, whimpering slightly when it finally slows.

and sukuna frowns…all he can see is himself. his chest tightens. a small, ugly part of him twists with something that feels too close to guilt. why the fuck is he like this? why is choso trying to prove anything at all at some shitty high school party?

her.

the image hits him out of nowhere. sharp. intrusive. his step-mother’s face, her voice, the way she worms her way into everything. the way she still haunts him, and now choso… his jaw clenches so hard it aches. he wants to rip the thought out of his own head.

“i don’t…” choso mumbles weakly, voice slurring into itself. his head drops against his arm, propped on the toilet seat. “i don’t wan’ you-you being mad…”

sukuna stills.

choso’s brows knit together, drunk mind scrambling, trying to hold onto something that’s floating. “i don’t… mom is… she’s my mom… i just—” his voice cracks.

choso’s a sad drunk.

his eyes gloss over, unfocused, bottom lip trembling slightly as he breathes unevenly. “i wanna talk to my mom…”

something in sukuna snaps tight in his chest. his jaw sets hard. he doesn’t say anything. he can’t when choso’s vulnerable like this. but his grip tightens just slightly on choso’s shoulder.

no.

that woman is not getting anywhere near him. near any of them. doesn’t matter how much choso cries. doesn’t matter how much he fucking asks or begs. the answer will always be no. she’s a fucking cancer.

“here’s some water,” yuuji pipes up, appearing in the doorway with a glass, then immediately recoils. “ewww.”

sukuna exhales through his nose, grabbing the glass without looking at him. “yeah, we’re not telling gramps.”

yuuji straightens a little, arms crossing like he’s being let in on something serious. “our secret?”

“our secret,” sukuna repeats absently, already nudging choso’s shoulder. “c’mon. sit up.”

he tilts the glass toward him. “drink.”

“m’not…” choso mumbles, but he obeys anyway, taking a few messy gulps before coughing, water dribbling down his chin.

“yuuji, go grab me the ibuprofen,” sukuna adds without looking up.

“got it,” yuuji nods, already darting off.

choso slumps back against the tub once he’s done, head tipping back, eyes barely open. sukuna reaches over, flushing the toilet and shutting the lid. choso keeps mumbling…

“i’m not… hic—m’not an idiot…”

yuuji reappears in the doorway, curious now, watching like it’s a show. sukuna glances up at him briefly, grabbing the bottle, before looking back at choso.

“i know how she waas…” choso continues, voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “why you left me and yuuji—”

sukuna’s jaw locks, hard. his expression doesn’t change, not when his brothers are right there. but the tension in his shoulders spikes, something heavy settling behind his eyes and over his chest, as he stares at choso.

and for a second he doesn’t know what the fuck to say.

choso’s eyes well up, slumping even more as his knee comes up. his face presses into his arm, hair falling over his face in a tangled mess. “but she…”

yuuji steps closer, small brows knitting together as he leans toward sukuna. “who’s she?” he whispers.

sukuna exhales through his nose. “no clue.” he straightens, already reaching down to haul choso back up. “let’s get him to bed.”

it’s messy. choso barely helps, weight sagging into sukuna as he drapes an arm over his shoulders. sukuna adjusts his grip, one hand firm at his side, the other keeping him upright as they shuffle down the hallway. sukuna basically lifting him the entire way.

“move,” sukuna mutters.

yuuji is already ahead of them, darting into choso’s room. he kicks a pile of clothes out of the way, yanking the blanket back.

sukuna lowers choso onto the bed with a quiet grunt, guiding him down instead of dropping him. choso immediately curls in on himself, still mumbling, words slurring into nothing.

“turn,” sukuna orders, nudging his shoulder until choso rolls onto his side. he adjusts him without much patience, but careful enough, one arm tucked, head angled. sukuna adjusts one of the throw pillows behind choso’s back. he groans, but settles. sukuna pulls the blanket over him, tugging it up to his shoulder.

for a second, he just stands there. watching.

yuuji edges closer, peering up at sukuna’s face, then back at choso. “it’s not good that he was drinking, right?”

sukuna stifles a yawn, dragging a hand down his face, but his mind is still stuck, looping on choso’s words.

“no,” he mutters. “it’s not good.”

yuuji shifts, frowning. “then why aren’t you mad?”

sukuna doesn’t answer right away. his eyes stay on choso, something tight pulling low in his chest before he finally says, quieter, “i’m upset.”

yuuji’s expression softens almost instantly. he leans into sukuna’s side without thinking, small and warm. sukuna’s hand comes up automatically, rough palm settling on his head before ruffling his hair.

“i’m gonna stay in ’ere with him,” sukuna says, nudging him gently toward the door. “so go play.”

yuuji stumbles a step from the push, but stops at the doorway, hesitating. his lips press together, jaw tightening just a little. “aren’t you gonna play? you said you would.”

sukuna drops into the old lounge chair in the corner with a low grunt, legs spreading out, shoulders heavy as he sinks back into it. he barely spares him a glance. “i gotta watch choso.”

“but he’s sleeping,” yuuji argues quietly.

sukuna’s gaze flicks back to choso. “he’s drunk as shit. you want him choking on his vomit?”

yuuji’s face scrunches. “no.” his voice is small.

“we’ll play tomorrow,” sukuna says, already closing his eyes, tone coming off more dismissive than he intended or even thought about.

yuuji lingers for a second longer, then disappears down the hall. the room goes quiet. just choso’s uneven breathing. the faint hum of the house. sukuna sinks deeper into the chair, head tipping back, eyes shut. his body aches in that dull, heavy, almost like he’s expecting something that’s inevitably coming…

his step-mother. his eyes shut, fuck everything is tangling together he must have drifted at some point, barely asleep, barely conscious, because the sudden buzz of his phone cuts through it like a blade. punishing him for the delusion that he had a little bit more time.

he fishes his phone out of his pocket, blinking at the screen.

toji.

———

you quickly grab the handle of your apartment building before you trip again. a light laugh escapes as a hand holds your waist steady.

“you sure you’re okay?” shoko asks, other hand coming up to her face. her head is spinning.

you mutter out something, fishing for your keys. shoko sways, waiting patiently, along with the halted uber with the rest of the gang inside, well except for higurama who left once you all got in the uber, and utahime and yuno…

“okayokay I’m inside, byebye!”

you’re stumbling into your apartment, drunk as hell, the door barely shutting behind you before you’re already kicking your shoes off across the floor. your balance wobbles, fingers clumsy as they fumble with the zipper of your jeans, a quiet huff leaving you when it snags for a second before finally giving.

you peel them off with far less grace than you’d like, stepping out of them and leaving them abandoned somewhere behind you. your top follows, dragging it over your head, then your bra—gone just as quickly, tossed without care. the apartment is warm, it’s thick with that early summer heat, and your skin practically sighs in relief as you’re left in nothing but your panties.

you don’t even bother covering yourself. your body is loose, uncoordinated. your chest rises and falls a little deeper than usual, and with every step, there’s that soft, natural movement. your bare skin warm, your body relaxed in a way it only gets when you’re like this. the moment you reach your bed, you collapse onto it.

your phone slips from your hand, bouncing once against the sheets as you roll onto your side, face pressing into the pillow. your lashes flutter lazily as the screen lights up beside you. notifications stacking from family group chats, names you don’t have the energy to read right now.

but one name floats to the front of your mind. one. and before you can even think it through, your fingers are already moving.

the phone rings. once. twice. then—

“hello?”

his voice is rough. low, edged with sleep, and something else you can’t quite place in your state.

you shift slightly, your phone resting near your cheek, heat spreading there as you breathe out, “ryo…”

there’s a pause. then a quiet hum on his end, fabric shifting as he moves. “you just got home?”

you answer with a soft, tired hum, eyes slipping half-shut. your lips part slightly as you exhale, tongue darting out to wet them without thinking. your head feels lighter now, the alcohol settling into something softer, slower, but it leaves your voice like honey, sweet, drawn out.

on the other end, sukuna’s jaw tightens.

“are you upset?” you ask, absent, like the thought just wandered into your head and out your mouth.

“why would i be upset?”

you make a small sound, barely there. “dunno… you just sound… like it,” you murmur, sighing into your pillow.

there’s a brief silence.

“you should get some sleep,” sukuna says, more abrupt now. a little colder, but it barely registers through the haze.

“I wan’ed to uh…” you yawn, words slurring together. “m’ gonna go home.”

his tone shifts instantly. “where the fuck are you now?”

you hum, too slow, too tired to match his urgency. “mmm… i mean… to my parents… next week,” you mumble. “i’m gonna do the hospital thing.”

he hesitates. you can’t see it, but he does, because last time, you shut that conversation down fast. hell, he doesn’t even know why you’re telling him this, so now he just… waits.

on your end, your breathing softens. a quiet, shaky exhale leaves you as your fingers curl slightly into the sheets. “i…” you swallow, eyes stinging faintly. “that’s okay, right?”

his breath catches, just barely. what is it with drunk people tonight…

“…yeah,” he says finally, quieter. not fully understanding the entire context, but answering anyway.

you don’t question the way you relax just a little.

“o…kay,” you murmur, softer now. then… “i wish… you were here.”

there’s a beat. and then, his lip quirks faintly, voice dipping. “so you can fuck yourself on me?”

you let out a light, airy laugh, barely there, bringing the phone closer, like his voice could comfort you the way his body does. “yeah…”

a pause. then softer, unguarded… “you always make me feel good, ryo.”

and he stills. completely.

shit.. he exhales, slow. his hand drags up his face as his head tips back against the chair. the room is quiet only broken by the faint shift of choso on the bed and the distant hum of the house settling at night. the silence only makes the way his chest is beating just a little louder in his ears.

“ryo,” you breathe again, even softer this time. he hums, voice even, steady. on the other end, your lashes grow too heavy to fight. your lips part slightly as your voice slips out, barely there, “g’night.”

there’s no response. not right away. because by the time he opens his mouth, you’re already gone your breathing evens out, soft and slow through the phone, quiet enough that he almost misses it at first. but then it settles into a rhythm, steady, warm, unmistakable. you fell asleep. still on the call.

sukuna doesn’t hang up. he just… listens. eyes still closed, head tipped back, phone pressed loosely to his ear as your breathing fills the silence on his end. it’s strange, how something so small manages to take up so much space in his head.

his mind drifts. back to the last time he saw you. saturday afternoon. less than 48 hours ago. the way he’d rushed out of your apartment without looking back, already halfway gone before the door even shut behind him. this is the first time you’ve called him like this and he didn’t show up. didn’t end with him pushing you into a mattress, didn’t end with his hands on you, your voice in his ear for a completely different reason.

if he was still on campus, he would’ve came. no question. but he’s not there. and somehow…that makes this feel different. a kind of different he doesn’t sit with for too long. doesn’t want to sit with. so he pushes it down, like he does everything else and focuses instead on the sound of you breathing—soft, steady—and he finds himself annoyed for a reason he doesn’t fully unpack.

he should be hearing it closer. your breathing against his ear, against his chest. your body warm, tucked into him the way it always ends up.

you said you wish he was there because he makes you feel good. his jaw tightens slightly. you make him feel good too. too fucking good. and with everything else tangled in his head, his family, choso, her, his call before this, the future—you’re the only thing that’s pretty simple. you don’t shift. it’s the routine. the sex. you. and it’s something he can actually count on.

his grip tightens faintly around his phone, thumb pressing against the edge of it as he exhales again, slower this time. summer stretches out in front of him. and in the quiet of that room, with your breathing in his ear and everything else sitting heavy in his chest, all he can think is:

summer is going to be hell.

— THREE WEEKS LATER —

the field sits just off the small town’s coast. the air tastes like salt and the wind carries the distant crash of waves. it’s late afternoon, sun still high, heat clinging to everything and sukuna is drenched.

sweat slicks down his chest, dragging along the hard lines of muscle, catching in the dips of his collarbones before trailing lower. his back is worse, broad, defined, and every movement is pulling the ink stretched across his skin. the tattoos curl over his shoulders, down his back, around his biceps. and his hair is damp, sticking slightly to his forehead, breath heavier from drills, but controlled.

people notice. a couple women slow their walk along the path by the beach, voices dropping as their eyes linger. some just outright staring.

sukuna jogs up to the benches, grabbing the water bottle toji tosses his way without breaking stride. the plastic cracks slightly under his grip before he twists it open, taking a long drink, water spilling down his throat, over his chin, dripping onto his chest.

“anything?” he asks, voice rougher now.

toji doesn’t answer right away, just hands him the folder.

sukuna takes it, flipping it open with one hand. “what’s this?”

beside him, shiu kong flicks ash from the cigarette hanging off his lip, leaning forward slightly as he talks. “background check on her partner came back clean. his money’s real, and his business checks out.”

sukuna’s eyes scan the pages. bank statements. employment records. a couple photos clipped in.

“those three years she disappeared?” shiu continues, “she spent em in china for about a year. then the rest in the UK.”

sukuna flips a page. his brows pull together slightly. “so?” he mutters.

toji exhales through his nose, scratching at his chin. “yeah, shiu, i thought you’d come back with somethin’ we can actually use.”

shiu snorts quietly. “you didn’t read all of it,” he shuts toji up. sukuna keeps reading, slower now. there’s a pause. then shiu tilts his head, cigarette shifting between his lips. “it doesn’t look like she went overseas just to hide from those lawsuits.”

sukuna’s eyes flick up briefly. “what d’ya mean?”

shiu leans back slightly, more relaxed than the tension building in front of him. “after she got out of jail, she worked at that loan company job for about a year, that’s where she got tied up with the lawsuit.”

“i know that part,” sukuna cuts in, flipping another page. “that’s all you fucking gave us a million weeks ago.”

“yeah, well,” shiu shrugs, ignoring the aggression. “one of the clients she was stealing from wasn’t just some idiot with bad credit and needed a loan.”

toji’s brows lift slightly, sitting up and waving sukuna to hand him back the folder,

“the guy had some connections,” shiu continues. “small operations, but enough to make things messy. when the lawsuit started closing in, he’s the one that got her out.”

sukuna’s jaw tightens.

“paid for her to leave the country,” shiu adds. “china first. she worked under him there, nothing flashy. looks like she was just working as a personal accountant and was moving around money, setting up accounts under different names. it’s pretty clean to not get caught, but if someone looks closer the numbers are just off.”

toji reads through the last few pages. they were thinner. notes, partial records, but not enough to actually start any shit with her.

“and the UK?” toji asks.

shiu shrugs again. “that’s where she met her new guy. your step-mom’s got a type, men with money and enough ego to overlook the rest.”

toji huffs a quiet laugh at that. sukuna doesn’t. he’s still staring at the page in toji’s hands, arms crossed over his chest.

“she cut ties with the china contact once she secured her new situation,” shiu adds. “so she got a completely clean slate with this guy. or as clean as she could manage. she started working for him as an accountant, still works for him, but dating now.”

toji glances at him. “it’s something.”

“it’s not enough,” sukuna snaps immediately. his patience has been shot for weeks. watching choso. waiting. thinking.

“we can push this on her,” toji starts, leaning forward, “and bring up the lawsuit again, tie it with this—”

“she’ll deny it,” sukuna cuts him off.

“then we—”

“she’ll deny it,” sukuna repeats, sharper this time, eyes flicking up, irritation clear. “and she’ll try an get choso, and he’s fucking desperate to give her a chance. no. you said we’d make her leave for good, so this is all fucking shit!”

sukuna runs a hand through his damp hair, exhaling hard through his nose, chest rising and falling heavier now.

“i need something more concrete,” he mutters. “something she can’t fucking, snake her way out of like a fucking cockroach.”

“i can look into that china contact,” shiu says simply. “I’ve got some people that can ask around.”

toji glances at sukuna, jaw setting before he nods. “yeah, that’s good.”

sukuna doesn’t respond. his eyes are staring up, jaw tightening. the ocean crashes in the distance. he doesn’t make a move once shiu leaves. not until toji is clearing his throat.

“i don’t know what you’re expecting.”

sukuna feels something harden inside. eyes deadly sharp as they glare at his long time friend and coach.

“you think we’re gonna uncover some body with her fingerprints on them?”

sukuna tsks, rolling his eyes, “shut the fuck up.”

“I’m jus’ asking.”

“you’re being a fucking dick!” sukuna’s voice pierces the air, chest heaving. his heart pounds against his ribs, blood flowing in his ears. “she started messaging me, and we don’t have shit.”

toji’s gaze takes in the twenty-three year old, a small, but strong, string tugs in his chest as he remembers when he was thirteen. his jaw tightens. “i talked to wasuke, we both agree you should go.”

sukuna’s eyes snap up. harsh. mean. “what?”

“accept the offer, and go train with the team. it’s not the same club that asked you when y’ were in high school, but this is what you’ve been workin’ for. I’ll deal with shit here.”

a sudden fury crashes full force into the man. “you have no clue what the fuck I want—i want this shit to go away. if ya think I’m pissed because of the offer, I’m not. I’m pissed that I don’t have shit on that woman when you fucking told me to trust your dipshit friend!” sukuna’s words bite the air.

“yeah sure,” toji sighs. sukuna’s easily setting him off the more he pushes back.

sukuna snarls, eyes dark, his head tilts, sizing up the thirty-two year old coach. “ya have more to say?”

his vein snaps.

toji’s suddenly standing right in front of him, close enough that the heat from sukuna’s skin hasn’t even cooled yet. emerald eyes dark, steady, not backing down. for a second, it looks like it could tip. like sukuna might start something.

his shoulders are tight, chest still rising hard, jaw locked so tight it aches. the vein in his neck ticks, pulse loud in his ears, everything in him might snap in seconds. but toji doesn’t move. doesn’t flinch.

“yeah,” he says, voice lower now. calmer, but not softer. “i do.”

sukuna’s lip curls slightly, head tilting just enough to show teeth. “then say it.”

toji exhales through his nose. “you’re losing control like a fucking kid again.”

heavy silence follows. then sukuna lets out a dry, humorless huff. “watch your mouth.”

“or what?” toji shoots back immediately. “you gonna swing at me?” that almost does it. sukuna’s fist flexes at his side, fingers twitching like they’re deciding whether or not to hit his fucking coach. “you’re pissed,” toji continues, cutting through before he can react, “and I’m not blaming you. but you’re acting like you can fix this overnight.”

“i can fix it,” sukuna snaps.

“no,” toji fires back just as fast, “you can’t.” his words hit, it’s how sure he sounds. sukuna’s eyes darken, something sharp flashing behind them. “you don’t have enough yet,” toji goes on, voice steady, and grounded making sukuna seethe. “and you forcing it isn’t gonna make it show up faster.”

“so i just sit around for another fucking month?” sukuna bites out. “wait for her to walk in and fuck everything up again!?”

“you think hovering over choso every second is gonna stop that?” toji counters. “you’re burning yourself out for nothing.”

sukuna scoffs, stepping forward this time, closing the already small space between them, eyes deadly to anyone other than the very man he’s targeting. “you don’t get to tell me how to handle my family.”

toji’s jaw tightens. “i’m not. i’m tellin’ you, you’re gonna fuck up your future if you keep this up.”

there’s that word again. future. sukuna’s expression twists instantly.

“don’t start,” he warns, low.

“you think this offer’s just gonna sit there and wait for you?” toji presses anyway. “you’ve been busting your ass for this since you screwed up and got—“

“i said don’t—”

“and by some fucking miracle you managed to get an offer again,” toji cuts him off, sharper now, voice much louder, “and you’re ready to throw it because of her!?”

that’s it. sukuna shoves him. it’s full force. enough to break the line they’ve been holding. toji stumbles back, just to block a swing from sukuna. his arm hooks with the kid, locking him up as sukuna grunts, not fighting back with the amount of strength he started with.

“don’t,” sukuna says, voice rougher now, chest heaving again in the hold. “don’t fuckin’ act like you’re responsible for me.”

toji grits, muscles flexing. “I’m not tryna act like your guardian angel,” he starts, his words coming out careful…almost hesitant thinking about the right words to describe his bond with the itadori family. “but I know what it looks like when you let your past decide everything for you.” his grip tightens around sukuna’s arm, almost hugging him, except for the way sukuna’s arm is forcefully trapped between their bodies, and the other is locked against his back. “i screwed up, not you.”

sukuna’s jaw tightens again, but this time there’s something else under it. something sharper, old wounds stinging.

“i said i’ll deal with it,” toji adds. sukuna struggles momentarily, before toji lets go, letting sukuna fall back on the grass, sun beating harshly above them. sweat slides down sukuna’s chest, fists gripping the dirt.

sukuna doesn’t answer. his gaze fixes on the ground between his legs. white lines worn into the grass. the ocean beyond it, endless and loud. this is what he’s been working for. he knows that. but….his jaw clenches again.

“you can’t be in two places at once,” toji says, standing above him. “so decide where you want to be.”

another long silence stretches between them. wind picks up slightly off the water, cooling the sweat on sukuna’s skin, but it does nothing for the heat sitting under it. finally, he scoffs under his breath and looks away. his hand comes up, running through his damp hair again.

“i’m not done with this,” he mutters, more to himself than toji.

toji shakes his head.

sukuna doesn’t look back at him. doesn’t give him anything else. but the way his shoulders sit, the way his jaw won’t unclench, it’s clear he’s not letting it go. he just doesn’t know which fire to put out first.

the silence breaks with a loud cheer in the distance. it cuts clean through the tension and heat.

“SUMMMMMERRRRRR BREAAAKKKKK!!!!!”

the voice is unmistakable. sukuna exhales through his nose, head tipping slightly to the side as his arm drops just enough for him to see across the field.

yuuji.

already halfway across, sprinting like his life depends on it. megumi’s right behind him, trying his best to keep up, eyes set in on yuuji’s back in determination. somewhere between the halfway line and the benches, both their backpacks go flying off, hitting the grass with dull thuds. yuuji doesn’t even look back, and just runs faster.

sukuna’s head drops back again, eyes closing briefly, jaw tightening as he lets the noise wash over him, and pull him out of his own head for a second. and he knows what’s coming. he doesn’t move, but braces.

“RYOOO—!”

yuuji slams into him full force, arms hooking around his shoulders as he crashes down, laughing loud and bright. sukuna grunts, body shifting slightly from the hit, but his hand comes up automatically, gripping the back of yuuji’s shirt to keep him from face-planting into his chest.

“fuck you’re heavier—” sukuna mutters, voice rough, but there’s no bite to it.

yuuji laughs, already climbing onto him, half dangling off his shoulders as sukuna finally pushes himself up to stand. “we’re free! FINALLY!!”

megumi finally reaches them, bent slightly at the waist, breathing heavier than he’d like, shooting yuuji an annoyed look. “you cheated.”

“i didn’t!” yuuji fires back immediately, still clinging to sukuna like he’s part of him now

“you started early,” megumi argues.

“did not!”

sukuna clicks his tongue, rolling his shoulders once as he stands fully, yuuji still hanging off him like dead weight. “both of you are fucking annoying.”

toji snorts quietly from the side, reaching out to ruffle megumi’s hair. the kid lets him, even if he rolls his eyes a second later, already distracted again by yuuji’s loud arguing.

“you’re just mad you lost again,” yuuji adds, grinning. “you can never beat me in a race.”

“i didn’t lose.”

“you did—!”

“i said i didn’t—”

“yo yo yo!” the voice cuts in before it can escalate, loud and familiar as two more figures cross the field. gojo strolls up like he owns the place, blue shorts hanging low on his hips, white tee clinging just enough from the heat. beside him, geto moves slower, black tee, baseball cap low over his eyes, hands shoved casually into his short pockets. gojo’s grin widens the second he gets a good look at sukuna.

“damn,” he lets out, dragging the word. “you look like shit.”

geto huffs a quiet laugh, eyes flicking over sukuna’s drenched frame. “you’ve been out here all day?”

sukuna doesn’t answer right away. he just grabs the hem of his shorts, tugging them slightly where they cling, sweat still dripping down his torso, catching along the lines of muscle, the ink on his skin darker from it, a tan already forming.

“what gave it away?” he mutters dryly.

yuuji is still draped over him, completely unbothered, arms locked around his shoulders like he’s not planning on letting go of his older brother anytime soon. “he’s been training like crazy,” he chimes in proudly, like it’s his accomplishment.

gojo leans in slightly, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. “yeah, no shit. he looks like he just crawled out of a fight.”

“lost, probably,” geto adds under his breath, glancing at toji who’s uncharacteristically lost in thought behind megumi.

sukuna scoffs, finally shifting his shoulder just enough to jostle yuuji. yuuji only laughs, tightening his grip like a damn leech. “can we play a game with you guys?” he asks, already bouncing with energy.

sukuna drags a hand through his damp hair, strands sticking to his forehead and temples, sweat still tracking down the sharp lines of his throat. his chest rises slow, controlled, muscles still tight from drills, veins faintly visible along his forearms, and v-line. “get off my back,” he mutters, voice rough.

yuuji drops immediately.

“I call being on ryo’s team!!” yuuji cheers, sliding in at sukuna’s side. for a second, it cuts through everything, the tension, the heat, the lingering frustration.

sukuna huffs, faint smile ghosting his lips. he ruffles the kid’s hair, rough but familiar. “yeah, yeah.”

gojo claps his hands together, already grinning like an idiot. “well, me and meg—”

“I’m with suguru,” megumi cuts flatly, already stepping toward geto without even looking at gojo.

there’s a beat. then sukuna snorts. geto does too, low and amused, adjusting his cap as his eyes flick between them.

gojo’s face twists in pure betrayal. “what the hell?!”

the ocean breeze rolls through the field, tugging at their loose shirts and damp hair, carrying the sound of distant waves, and the very obvious attention of people lingering along the edges. a few girls pause mid-walk, eyes dragging over the group, not subtle.

sukuna stands there shirtless, skin tan and sun-warmed, slick with sweat. his tattoos stretch across his chest and wrapping down his arms, and around his thick thighs. every movement pulls something sharp and defined beneath his skin. beside him, geto’s build is just as unfair, broad shoulders, dark shirt clinging slightly before he peels it off, exposing toned muscle and smooth skin. his silver chain catches the light, muscles flexing as he reties his long hair. and then there’s gojo, tall, bright, obnoxiously pretty, who yanks his shirt off with zero shame, tossing it aside like he knows exactly how many eyes just followed the motion, and his muscles were no joke.

“i’m not sitting out,” gojo declares, already walking backward onto the field. “we’re doing three on three. coach, you’re in.”

toji just exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he expected this the second they showed up.

“be on our team!” yuuji immediately points at gojo, beaming.

gojo lights up like he just got chosen for something life-changing. “finally—someone that finally sees my value.”

that lasts about two seconds

“you’re goalie,” yuuji adds brightly. sukuna lets out a sharp laugh, head tipping back for a second. geto laughing louder across from them.

gojo freezes. “what the hell?!”

“well i’m playing,” yuuji says, like it’s obvious, gesturing between himself and sukuna. “and me and ryo are a team—”

“i play with him all the time!” gojo cuts in, scandalized.

yuuji scrunches his face, brutally honest. “yeah but…you guys hate each other.”

there’s a pause.

“…that’s not—” gojo starts, then stops, jaw ticking, and veins straining. he groans anyway, dragging himself toward the goal with exaggerated misery, muttering under his breath the whole time. sukuna and geto watch him go, lips twitching.

on the other side, toji doesn’t argue when he gets shoved into the same position for megumi and geto’s team. he just cracks his neck once, slow, eyes already tracking the field, mind anywhere but the game.

as the teams settle and the heat clings to their skin, the game starts off light. it’s almost easy. the ball moves quick between them, laughter cutting through the salt-heavy air as yuuji and megumi try to outdo each other, their smaller frames darting across the field with reckless energy. geto plays loose, smooth with it, backing megumi with an ease that makes it look effortless, while sukuna shadows yuuji, letting the kid take the lead, stepping in only when needed. for a moment, it feels normal. just a summer game.

gojo, unfortunately, blocks almost everything. he stretches out in the goal, long muscular limbs moving with lazy precision, talking shit the entire time. “stupid fucking game.”

and every now and then he lets one slip—on purpose—just enough for megumi to make a few shots, to keep him from scowling too hard. but toji doesn’t do the same. every shot yuuji takes, every burst of effort, gets shut down hard. clean catches. sharp deflections. not even a hint of mercy. and slowly, that grin on yuuji’s face starts to strain.

and that’s when sukuna shifts, a scowl pulls at his mouth. it’s subtle at first. he puts a little more force behind his kicks, losing patience. and then it builds faster, he feels something heavier sitting under his skin. and his focus drifts, between yuuji, the goalpost and everything else. the offer.

fuck!

the weight of this shit summer presses behind his eyes. and toji is just standing there, catching everything like it’s nothing. like sukuna isn’t trying hard enough. his jaw tightens as he drives the ball again, and again. harder each time, forcing plays, and, pushing past those friendly match into something rougher, more aggressive. geto notices. gojo definitely notices.

but sukuna doesn’t stop until the game ends just as messy and close and yuuji’s team barely scraping the win

the field immediately breaks into noise with yuuji and megumi arguing over fouls, both talking over each other with flushed faces and wild gestures.

“we already called that as offside,” yuuji shouts, shaking his head.

megumi scoffs, pointing, “you couldn’t even explain the offside rule to me a month ago!”

“doesn’t matter!”

sukuna’s barely listening as he grabs a towel and drags it over his face, and chest. sweat drips down his jaw, his torso and back gleaming under the sun. his free hand shoves a bottle into yuuji’s chest.

“drink,” he mutters. yuuji obeys without question, still mid-argument as he chugs.

gojo strolls over, dramatic as ever, wiping at his neck with a grimace. “this sweat is from the sun, not from a workout,” he complains, like he wasn’t just throwing himself around ten seconds ago. “fucking waste of an hour,” he adds, slapping his sunglasses on and stretching his arms behind his head.

the frat president is completely oblivious to the mini crowd off the field, until he turns his head to feel a gust from the ocean. that’s when he catches a couple girls nearby staring. his lip curls on instinct and easily flashes them a grin, and a lazy wave.

geto snorts under his breath beside him, adjusting his cap, equally as drenched. sukuna doesn’t care. his eyes are already elsewhere. specifically on the man he was arguing you with earlier.

toji stands near the benches, turned slightly away, phone pressed to his ear. his posture different. sukuna bites down on his jaw, something tightens in his chest. ‘I’ll handle it’ my ass.

his gaze flicks back to yuuji, still arguing, “why isn’t choso with you?”

yuuji doesn’t glance away from megumi, “i dunno, i walked here from school.”

“i told choso to bring ya over, gramps wanted a quiet friday,” sukuna frowns.

“he’s probably practicing. the competition is tomorrow,” yuuji thinks.

that rips gojo’s attention away from the girls, “ohh damn! that’s the battle of the bands thing right?”

yuuji nods, beaming as he recalls how much choso has been talking about it, “cho showed me a couple videos from the other bands that signed up, and they’re sooooo lame compared to him!”

sukuna listens. choso’s been practicing almost every night, usually at ino’s place since gramps would get cranky. but before kaori rose from dead over three months ago, choso was updating sukuna around the clock, including—

“i guess he found a way to pay the submission fee,” gojo tosses so casually it almost passes,.

sukuna’s brows pinch, head turning slightly. “how d’ya know about the submission fee?”

gojo blinks, like it’s obvious. “choso told me,” he shrugs, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. “back in april. remember when he ditched school and came to the house? kid was stressin’ about it.”

sukuna stills, “…he told you that?”

“yeah,” gojo hums, a little smug now. “said he was tryna handle it himself. didn’t wanna ask you ‘cause you’ve got,” he gestures vaguely, “your whole thing going on. y’know. life crisis, anger issues, whatever.”

geto snorts under his breath. yuuji is still arguing with megumi, completely oblivious. but sukuna doesn’t hear any of it. his jaw tightens, something cold slipping down his spine, because choso never said a word to him. not once. not about money. not about struggling, not about needing help.

and then it clicks.

a month ago the house had been quieter than usual. it was when sukuna stopped by on the weekend before the last week of classes and finals. gramps was out, yuuji was inside with megumi and nobara. sukuna had just come back from talking with toji, when he heard it, music bleeding out from the garage.

he hadn’t meant to stop, but he did. he leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, he watched through the cracked door. choso stood in the middle of the cluttered space, guitar slung low, hair tied back messily. ino was adjusting something on an amp while the others tuned, voices overlapping in the garage.

“we still need the fee by next week,” ino mentions.

“i know,” choso muttered, fingers dragging through his hair. “i’m working on it.”

“you gonna ask your brother?”

choso’s head snapped up immediately. “no.”

too fast. too sharp.

“why not? he could literally—”

“i said no.” choso’s voice cut through the garage, firm, and defensive. “i’ll figure it out.”

there’d been a pause. awkward tension between the boys.

“…you sure?”

choso exhaled, shoulders dropping just a little, but he didn’t look back at them. just adjusted his grip on the guitar. “he’s got enough shit going on,” he said, quieter now. “i don’t need to add to it…I’ll have my half by June.”

and that was it. they moved on and started playing again. and sukuna left before they finished the song. competition’s usually cost around three hundred dollars. if he can’t figure it out himself, he’ll eventually ask his older brother for help. he always does…

but now, back on the field, the ocean air feels heavier. his tongue presses hard against the inside of his cheek.

“he didn’t say anything to me,” sukuna mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

gojo tilts his head. “yeah…i figured.”

and that makes something in sukuna’s chest twist, sharp and ugly. because now the timeline lines up too cleanly. kaori showing up. choso being curious about her. the fee. choso needing money. choso asking him to talk to her. and then— that bank transfer.

his gaze drops, jaw locking as the pieces start to settle into place in a way he really, really doesn’t like.

did he meet with kaori?

———

the house is quiet when sukuna gets back. it’s late—past midnight—and the only light on is the dull flicker from the tv in the living room. the front door clicks shut behind him, the smell of alcohol and citrus still clinging faintly to his clothes from his summer job at the bar. his shoulders ache, muscles heavy from the day, but his mind is louder than anything else.

the news drones on. wasuke sits in his usual spot, hunched slightly forward, a blanket thrown over his legs despite the summer heat. he doesn’t look over when sukuna walks in. he pauses for a second, then drops onto the couch beside his gramps with a low exhale, elbows resting on his knees, mind anything but calm. the only thing he could think about during his late shift was choso asking kaori for money.

“…how do you think choso’s doing?” his deep voice breaks the silence.

wasuke grunts, unimpressed. “you’re the one hovering over him like a leech.”

sukuna’s brows pull together, irritation flickering. “i’m not—”

“you are,” wasuke cuts him off, finally glancing at him. his eyes are sharp, even through the fatigue. “kid can’t breathe without you watching him while he shits.”

sukuna scoffs quietly, looking away. his jaw tightens, tongue pressing against his cheek. “he’s ignoring me still.”

“so let him.” the response is immediate, and it makes something in sukuna’s chest twist. he leans back into the couch, arms crossing loosely, gaze drifting to the tv but not really seeing it. the silence stretches for a beat, filled only by the low murmur of the broadcast.

“…he didn’t tell me about the money,” sukuna says finally, voice low and rougher now. “for the competition tomorrow.” wasuke doesn’t react right away. just shifts slightly in his seat. “he found a way to get it,” sukuna adds, eyes narrowing faintly. “on his own.”

another beat.

“…and you’re mad about that.”

sukuna exhales sharply through his nose. “i don’t like not knowing where the fuck it came from.”

wasuke hums. “so ask him.”

“he’ll lie, he already lied.”

“then that’s his problem.”

sukuna’s head snaps slightly, irritation spiking. “it becomes my problem if he’s getting mixed up with—” he cuts himself off. jaw tensing.

“…with her?” his gramps asks, voice colder.

the word hangs there without being said. kaori. sukuna doesn’t answer. but he doesn’t need to, his silence does it for him.

wasuke exhales slowly, leaning back into the couch, eyes drifting back to the tv. “i told you i want nothing to do with that woman,” he mutters.

“i know.”

“then stop bringing her into this house without her even bein’ here.”

sukuna’s jaw clenches, fingers tapping once against his arm before going still. “i’m not bringing her anywhere. she’s the one tryna get to choso and yuu.”

“and you’re letting her.”

sukuna blood spikes, “what?! how am I letting her! you want me to pull the same shit you did for me and do nothing?!”

wasuke’s expression hardens…

kaori’s voice could slice through walls, through skin. and his father would just stand there…patient…useless. and she tore into everything. that house was a fucking hellhole.

but wasuke didn’t ask questions, or comment. he didn’t bat an eye when sukuna stayed the extra night when visiting, or when he eventually brought more bags and stayed permanently.

“…if it’s still unclear to you, I don’t want her fucking everything up again,” sukuna mutters, quieter now. the tv flickers. some anchor talking about something sukuna could care less about.

“you left when you were around his age,” wasuke continues, voice gruffer now, but steadier. “you made your choice. it was a good one.” a pause. “but those boys didn’t.”

sukuna’s eyes lower.

“you kept choso over longer when they’d visit on the weekends,” wasuke says. “yuuji doesn’t even remember half of it.” he shifts, blanket rustling. “you don’t get to make their choices for them now just because you think you know better.”

sukuna’s chest tightens, “i’m not—”

“you are,” wasuke interrupts again, harsher this time. “you’re scared—“

that makes sukuna’s head snap up. his eyes flash, in defensive, anger raging. “i’m not scared of her-“

“not of her,” wasuke says simply. “of what happens if you’re wrong.”

the room goes still. completely still….

what if choso did go to her? what if he wanted to? what if he likes her? sukuna’s jaw locks, a cold anger bubbling up inside, old wounds opening as he recalls how—

“…she’s not good for them,” sukuna says, voice low and certain.

wasuke doesn’t argue that, he just sighs, long and tired, rubbing a hand over his aged face. “yeah,” he says. “but locking ‘em up isn’t gonna make it go away either.” sukuna looks away again, jaw tight. “couldn’t teach you shit because whenever I’d tell ya to do something, you’d do the opposite.”

he doesn’t respond…why are teenagers so difficult?

“and let me know if you’re gonna go to that training thing overseas.”

sukuna’s head snaps. “how do ya know about that?”

wasuke doesn’t bat an eye. “choso saw it in yuuji’s room and asked me about it.”

sukuna’s jaw tenses, sinking further into the couch, muscles tightening and mind pounding. his gramps continues watching, eyes ahead as his short tempered grandson quietly sits beside him.

sukuna’s room is dark when he finally pushes the door open. empty and quiet since yuuji’s at megumi’s. sukuna drags a hand down his face, kicking the door shut behind him before peeling off his shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor. his jeans follow, shoved down and discarded without care until he’s left in just his boxers. the fan hums lazily in the corner, warm summer air clinging to his skin, still faintly sticky from his shift.

he drops onto his bed with a low exhale, one arm thrown over his eyes for a second, then his phone’s in his hand. mindless, numb doom scrolling. his thumb flicks up, up, up tapping on the string of insta stories.

gojo with multiple stories from today. yuuji mid-sprint across the field, megumi scowling in the background, another of gojo grinning like an idiot with geto, toji somewhere behind them looking half-interested at best. there’s one of sukuna too—shirtless, sweaty, mid-play—clearly taken without him noticing.

he clicks his tongue.

next. geto reposted the same ones gojo had tagged him in. a few others of the soccer ball, and one of sukuna yelling and pointing at gojo.

he scowls. next— his thumb pauses mid-scroll. he taps before he can think about it. it’s a repost from shoko’s story. you’re sprawled out on a gurney, knocked out cold in your scrubs, one arm hanging off the side like you just gave up mid-shift.

his lip quirks faintly. then another photo, you and shoko again, except now you’re slumped over the counter in a bar, still dressed in scrubs, cheek pressed to your arm resting on the surface, and completely knocked out again.

“the fuck…” sukuna huffs under his breath. his thumb lingers on the photo, then he taps your profile. his eyes flick over your dashboard, clicking the most recent photo. he’d already seen it, you haven’t posted since winter break, but his eyes still linger on the photo. on your face. your lips. he scrolls through your dash again, tapping on your highlights in hopes of finding a photo that’ll get him going…

his room is quiet, no one present to see how he quietly stalks your page, hand resting just above his—

BUZZ

his phone slips—smacking him straight in the face.

“fuck—!” he groans, hand flying up to his face as he answers, irritation already bleeding into his tone.

“hello?” your voice comes through, soft, and a little unsure.

“what,” he huffs, rubbing his face.

there’s a shift on your end. fabric, maybe, moving. “are you busy right now?”

“no, it’s fucking one am,” he snaps automatically, voice rough with exhaustion.

“right,” you murmur, a small pause. “sounds like I got you at a wrong time though?”

“you didn’t,” he says, a little quieter.

your lips purse…then, “how’s your summer?”

sukuna’s brow quirks, shifting on his bed, one arm tucking behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. “you called to ask how I am?”

“well we haven’t talked in almost a month-ish,” you say, casual, because it is, neither of you batting an eye about it. but he can picture that little shrug you do. “so like…yeah. how are you?”

something in his chest shifts as he exhales through his nose, giving in anyway. “fine.”

“yeah?” there’s a small smile in your voice now. he hums. “I saw satoru’s story. you guys looked like you were having fun.”

“yeah,” sukuna mutters. “my brother’s are off for break now.”

“ooo, fun,” you say softly, the word stretching a little.

the conversation flows casually, too comfortable for either of you to notice. “you back home doing the hospital thing then.”

you hum, then with a slight pause, “yeah.”

he shifts again, phone pressed closer to his ear without realizing. “looks like you’re sleeping the whole time,” he teases lightly, voice low.

there’s a small scoff on your end, breathy. “shut up. those were like—very strategic naps.”

“on a fucking gurney?” he snorts.

“listen,” you start, a little defensive now, a little more awake. “those shifts suck, and if i don’t sleep when i can, i’ll actually kill myself.”

“dramatic.”

“I’m never dramatic,” you shoot back, then quieter, “I’m literally exhausted all the time.”

there’s a beat. sukuna’s gaze drifts to the ceiling again, something softer settling in his chest without permission. “…sounds like it,” he mutters.

there’s another pause, and it doesn’t feel awkward, it’s familiar, like no time has passed at all and yet it has. his fingers tap idly against his stomach, mind quieter than it’s been all night.

“…you hate it there?” he asks after a second, tone more neutral now, less bite.

your exhale comes slower this time, heavier. “yeah,” you mutter honestly, unaware of the way sukuna’s jaw shifts slightly. then there’s a slight shifting on your end again. “four more weeks of this,” you add.

sukuna doesn’t realize how much he actually wants to hear your talk, hear your voice, something calm settling in his chest as he hums, hoping you’ll continue talking, and luckily you do.

“the best part is shoko being here,” you talk mindlessly, voice soft, clear that you’re trying not to make a lot of noise.

“and the worst part?” sukuna pokes, earning a light snort from you.

“my dad hovering over my shoulder and interrogating me,” you sigh, “can you talk to me?”

his brow quirks, “we are talking, you called me.”

you frown, rolling your eyes, “yeah to have like a conversation about something that’s not this dumb program.”

“and I’m a great conversationalist,” sukuna’s tone is laced with sarcasm.

“the best,” you add on, smile lifting your lips when you hear him snort. he exhales, his breath moving through the speaker and right into your ear, reminding you when it was really pressed close to you, warm and gentle.

“i’ve been working at a bar,” sukuna starts, mind slowly piecing together what he should talk about.

“for real?”

“yeah, is that shocking,” he throws, voice steady, barely reacting.

“no, i can picture it,” you coolly reply.

“smartass.” sukuna exhales, then continues. “since we’re getting deeper into summer people are moving into their beach houses.”

“Oo fancy.”

and maybe it was the slight comments that allowed sukuna to continue rambling about some annoying customers, or it could be your little questions that eased the knots in his chest. but sukuna felt natural speaking, telling you about moments in the last three weeks. and even touching on a subject very sore to him…

“oh wow that’s great. I’ve haven’t gone to a battle of the bands competition since I was high school,” you say, peaking sukuna’s interest in seconds.

“you were part of a band?”

you shake your head, “no lol,” you laugh, “my boyfriend was.”

sukuna goes quiet for half a second? not long enough for you to clock it, but long enough for something sharp to flicker under his skin.

“boyfriend,” he repeats, tone flat, he doesn’t notice.

you hum lightly, shifting on your bed. “yeah, from high school.”

“hm.” there’s a pause again. not awkward, just…thicker now. he doesn’t ask why you broke up. doesn’t ask anything that obvious. he doesn’t care, but still… “you lose your virginity to him?” he asks, casual.

you blink at your ceiling, lips pressing together. “as if,” you pause, “i don’t think i actually liked him like that to let him go all the way.”

sukuna’s brow twitches faintly, “what, so he was just there?” he scoffs.

you let out a small laugh. “kinda. he was cool when he was part of the band, but i think he liked me more than i liked him…which made me feel kinda bad.”

“figures.”

you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it. “whatever.” but you’re smiling.

there’s another pause, shorter this time, then he tilts his head slightly against his pillow, voice dipping just a bit. “so what’d you let him do?”

“kissing, a little touching over the clothes…i dunno,” you slowly begin to recall the memories from high school. “he was…cringey.” you hesitate, then add, “he was always talking, but didn’t do much of anything else.”

a quiet huff of amusement leaves him, his lips twitch up. “talking,” he echoes.

“yeah,” you sigh. “like—texting. sexting. all that.”

“and you didn’t like it?”

you shake your head instinctively, “it was so…” you cringe just thinking back about it. “cringey and boring.”

there’s a small shift on his end, sheets rustling as he sits up a little more against his headboard, phone tucked closer to his ear. “boring?” he repeats, slower now, voice dropping.

“yeah,” you mumble. “it just felt…fake. like i was supposed to say certain things, or react a certain way because he was getting off…just gave me the biggest ick.” you pause, then add quieter, “and it never did anything for me.”

there’s a slight pause as sukuna goes quiet again, then—

“…so what does?” his voice is rougher now, deeper, slipping into something more familiar.

you blink, heat creeping up your neck at the shift in tone. “…what?”

“you said it’s boring,” he continues, slow and deliberate. “so what isn’t?”

your breath hitches, just a little, and he hears it. of course he does. it’s the one thing he knows about you. you wet your lips, suddenly very aware of how you’re laying, how your voice sounds, how he sounds.

“…i don’t know,” you deflect weakly.

“that’s not an answer.”

“it is when i’m half asleep,” you mumble, heat settling in your stomach. the house is quiet. your room even more.

he huffs quietly, a faint edge of a smirk, “…so if i started talking,” he says, almost offhand, like it’s nothing, “you’d just get bored and hang up?”

your stomach flips, because you know what he’s doing, and he knows you know.

“…no,” you say, softer now. you hesitate then, quieter, honest without meaning to be, because why else did you call him…your mind had drifted to him, and you clicked his number without thinking twice… “keep talking to me.”

that’s all it takes. there’s a shift on his end, barely audible, but it feels like the air tightens between you through the phone. sukuna exhales slowly through his nose, heat crawling up his neck.

“yeah?” he murmurs. you hum, softly. he didn’t realize how much he enjoyed your voice, so he continues talking, voice deeper, the way he speaks when it’s just the two of you, and when you’re underneath him… “you don’t post a lot.”

your brow quirks, “like on instagram?” he hums. “were you stalking me?”

“was just on your profile after i saw your story, then your idiot self calls me,” he huffs remembering the way his phone smacked him in the face. he ignores the way he didn’t feel embarrassed telling you though.

you laugh, “i probably sensed it,” you tease. heat blooming across your cheeks. “you want me posting more?”

his breath hitches.

“I can post if you ask me nicely,” you coo through the speaker, voice warm and light. “what d’ya want to see, ryo?”

the man snorts, biting his lip at the tone in your voice. you’re not making it subtle at all that you want a little bickering this late at night.

“you’d post if i told you too,” he murmurs, slower. “since when do you listen to me.”

you smile into your pillow, cheek warm, fingers idly tracing the fabric of your sheets. “depends how you ask.”

something settles deeper in his chest. “…what’re you doing right now?” sukuna asks, voice lower, steadier, not rushed.

you swallow lightly. “…in bed.”

“yeah?” he hums, hand ghosting over his the subtle bulge in his boxers. “what’re you wearing.”

your lips part, wetting your bottom lip as you exhale, “not much,” you admit, softer now. “shorts.”

“panties?” he asks, and you shake your head making a little noise. “is that the real reason ya called?”

“no,” you mutter, not knowing whether that’s a lie or the truth. of course, the possibility lingered in your mind when you thought of him…then when you clicked his contact…especially after, “i had a long day…and some guy asked for my number.”

sukuna’s hand stills, body going rigid.

“and for some reason…it just made me think of you,” the confession filled the quiet space of your rooms. “but then…i wanted to know, if we still had an agreement together..?”

the question hangs in the air for a moment.

then sukuna shifts, biting back a smirk, “you can let other guys fuck you if you’re so horny.” you frown, chest tightening— “but i can tell you’re afraid they might get scared of ya.”

your lips part, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond.

“you’ll tell em to go faster and they’ll try, then you’ll tell them to go harder and they’ll give ya a look, and then you’ll shake that pretty ass waiting for them to spank it, because you’ll never say how much ya like it out loud,” sukuna’s words flow easily, turning your stomach into knots, thighs pressing together. “isn’t that why you thought of me? i know how wet you’re getting just from my voice.”

your lips part in quiet shock, face burning.

“tell me how drenched your pretty little pussy is,” his voice scratches an itch deep in your core, a small whimper leaving your lips. your hand crawls into your shorts, biting your lip as your slick immediately coats your digits.

“you touching’ yourself?”

“Mhm,” your cute voice flows straight to his cock, his hand moves over his bulge again. “I’m wet, ryo.”

he bites back a groan, “you miss havin my voice pressed against your ear, tellin ya what to do?”

you can’t hold back the whine that barely escapes your throat, sending a wave of heat rushing down to his cock.

“take the shorts off, princess.” sukuna immediately hears the rustling of bedsheets from your end. his hand continues to stroke himself over his boxers. you settle back near the phone with a light exhale. “ya took em off?”

“yes,” you breathe, lips glossy.

“you miss havin’ me there with you?” he listens carefully as you whine softly into the phone. “answer me.”

“yes, i miss you,” you sigh, ghosting a finger over your folds. the light breeze of your bedroom sending a pool of heat between your legs.

“what d’you miss?”

you wet your lips, dipping a finger into your folds. “miss your hands touching me,” your voice softens, juices collecting on your finger, as you slowly drag it up to your clit. “miss when you’d stretch me out.”

sukuna’s jaw clenches, palm pressing against his fully erect cock. “can’t stretch y’rself?”

you make a noise that sends sukuna into orbit. “my fingers are too small.” you wet your lips as you continue playing with your clit, your breath growing heavy. “i hate touching myself.”

“hate’s a strong word,” he snorts, shoving his boxers down, unbothered by the how hard he is. he reaches over for the nightstand before pausing. “fuck.”

“what?” you fingers pause their movement,

sukuna sits back, cock twitching, “forgot I’m not in my room.”

your brow quirks, heart stopping, “where are you then?”

“I mean at the frat. my little brother took over my room here when I moved out,” he explains, biting his lip as he looks down at his cock. “so no lube.”

oh.

heat spreads across your face.

“wish i had your sweet pussy here to get me nice n wet,” sukuna bites. saliva collects in his mouth as he leans forward, and then he spits a fat glob, watching it land right on his engorged tip. “you’re all drenched now, aren’t you?”

your face stings. of course he knows how drenched you are.

“you like playing with your pussy?”

your lips part, finger rubbing tight circles on your clit as sukuna lets out a low grunt. you can hear the distant squelch of his hand moving up and down his cock.

“n-no,” you exhale, cheeks hot.

“no?”

“it’s boring haah,” you confess, but your actions are saying the opposite, especially with the added whine in the end.

sukuna squeezes his base, “it’s boring to touch y’rself talkin’ to me?”

you hum quietly, lips parting, breathless, and uncharacteristically shy. it was the fact that you’re only hearing his voice, when you’re used to seeing him, touching him, the bickering was mutual even if he’d have your ass bruised everytime you quip back…but this time…you’re unbelievably aware of the fact that you’re alone. and maybe that’s why his confidence was overheating your brain in a way that had you touching your poor clit a little quicker.

“even if I tell you how hard my cock is jus’ talking to you. that doesn’t do anything?”

your brain goes dizzy just thinking about sukuna’s thick chubby cock — you don’t even realize the pathetic whine that comes out of you.

“doesn’t make your cunt tighten around those fingers?”

your chest heats up, sweat building across your forehead. “I’m not using my fingers…”

sukuna pauses his strokes, thumb nail digging into his slit, turning his cock a darker shade. “you’re just rubbing that poor nub then?”

a mix of a hum and whine comes out. your fingers slow, mimicking the way sukuna would’ve been touching you, but…it’s not that same, not even close.

“push in a finger.”

your chest rises, legs parting. “mm’kay…” you leave your clit, fingers covered in your honey as you drag them lower, teasing your puckering hole. “it never feels good when I do it myself though,” you mutter.

sukuna twist his wrist up and down his cock. pre oozes down the veins and ridges, unbothered by the fact that it’s been a minute since he’s jerked off himself. the last time was when he was in your room—

he ignores you. “push a finger in, and keep rubbing your clit f’r me.”

you listen, gently pushing a finger in. the satisfying sensation of fullness doesn’t take you over, instead you’re whining softly, breathless as you rub your clit. “it doesn’t feel good ryo.”

“push your fingers deeper, and then ya gotta curl them until you feel that gummy part—“

“it all feels gummy,” you exhale, working your clit faster, not fully realizing your other hand is mimicking the way your fuck buddy fingers you. “haah I’m jus’—“ you suppress your moans, the speaker picking up every hitch in your throat, and quiet whine.

“you fingering yourself, baby?”

your lips part, working yourself more. “y-yea-haah..”

sukuna’s voice drops an octave, hand coming down to cup his heavy balls, working his cock faster. “atta girl.”

heat breaks out.

your glossy lips part, choked moans filling sukuna’s ear.

“keep going—ngh, y’er getting my cock so fucking hard,” he grunts, his biceps bulge, veins on his forearms flexing dangerously as he strokes himself aggressively. you whine a little more, his words making you clamp around your pathetic finger, your clit throbs as you rub tighter circles.

“y-you like my voice?” you don’t mean to make your voice that breathless, but it comes out either way. what you don’t expect is the choked groan that comes from the phone.

“fhuck,” one leg bends up, before butterflying out, fuck he misses your teasing. “you wanna get spanked for that?”

his lip quirks the moment you whine on instinct.

“knew you were a dirty fucking slut,” he grunts strokes picking up. images of your gorgeous face getting all flustered at his words appears in his mind. “ya like gettin’ punished.”

it wasn’t a question, but you still deny it with a cute huff from your end. “I don’t.”

“you do,” he states, tongue dragging across his lip, “you wish I had ya bent over my lap, spanking that pretty ass until ya start crying.”

you hate the way your skin burns, and his name falls from your lips. “I’ve never cried.” his loud, deep, laugh rattles through your speaker, sending a wave of heat to your face. your lips purse, finger curling inside you, but coming out just to rub your puffy clit quicker. “don’ ah laugh at me.”

“you’re a liar,” he snorts between laughs. his cock is throbbing, bulbous tip a dark shade of red as clear pre dribbles at the slit, sliding down the protruding veins and ridges. it was a filthy pathetic mess how hard he is. “fucking asking for a spanking now.”

“mmm not,” you pant, lips parting as you get closer, his voice the only thing your fixating on. “I’m not haah.”

“you’d still bend over if i asked,” he smirks at the soft whine that leaves your lips. “you’d also pull down your pants just to show me how wet your panties are.” your hand sneaks into your shirt, fingers twisting your nipple. “then you’d get embarrassed when I pinch your little clit through them, scolding you for getting all drenched when this should be a punishment.”

“fuuh…” you choke.

you’re so precious.

his grip tightens on his cock, jerking it harder, abs clenching at the knot coiling inside. “then you’d start crying when I start making ya count each spank.”

“I wouldn’t,” your lips are so wet, sukuna can practically hear how glossy they are.

“you’re so dumb when you get wet and needy, you don’t even realize you’re crying,” he coos, “I think ya do it on purpose.”

“I don’t.”

“you do,” sukuna’s grunt hits your ear. his hand is jerking his painful cock the squelching is so loud you can hear it. “you know how fucking hard it makes me.”

you whine at the admission, squirming as you draw closer to your relief. tongue poking out, panting into the mic. sukuna groans in response, his throat bops.

“seein’ you look at me, and I know there’s nothin else you’re thinking about except my cock,” he bites his lip at the image he’s conjuring up, just as you call his name, light and sweet. “fuck y’er close?”

“Mhm,” a breathless moan escapes. “gunna cum.”

“haah fuck same,” he keeps going, “fuuck I wanna kiss you so bad.”

you whine, legs trembling as you feel your orgasm start to come.

“miss my dirty girl cumming around my cock ngh,” his grunts aren’t as deep or loud, as they are when he’s fucking you. and that small detail sticks in your mind as you feel the searing white relief wash over you. the warmth floods through your body, slow and heavy, leaving your limbs loose against the sheets.

on the other end, sukuna’s groan comes out heavy and deep, hot ropes shooting onto his abs, hand stroking more cum our as he slowly goes quiet… breathing hard.

after a moment, he shifts, the faint rustle of fabric and movement carrying through the phone, and his head tips back against the pillow, eyes shut. his cock rests on his stomach, white thick cum all over his abs and happy trail. but…

his mind is blank for once. no kaori. no choso. no future clawing at his chest. just you. the sound of you, and it settles something in him in a way he doesn’t question, but just lets it happen, chest rising and falling slower now.

“…you fall asleep?” he mutters after a beat, voice rough, quieter than before.

you shake your head instinctively, even though he can’t see it, lashes fluttering as you stare at nothing. “no…just coming down,” you murmur, voice soft, airy, like you’re barely holding onto it. there’s a pause. then, almost sheepish, “kinda anticlimactic…”

he huffs a quiet laugh through his nose, glancing down briefly at the mess he made himself before dragging his clean hand over his face.

“yeah,” he agrees, voice gravelly, worn out from the day.

you roll onto your side, curling slightly into your pillow, phone pressed closer to your ear. neither of you says anything for a few seconds, just the quiet sound of each other breathing. an unspoken calmness easing you both.

on his end, you hear him shifting again, something soft brushing against fabric, the faint sound of movement as he cleans up without thinking much about it. it’s mundane, grounded, and real. and all you can think about is how different it would feel if he were actually here. how warm he’d be beside you. how easy it would be to just turn your head and press into him instead of speaking into a phone. your fingers curl into your sheets a little tighter at the thought.

“…you’re quiet again,” he murmurs, settling back in his bed, casually lifting his hips and pulling his boxers up.

“just tired,” you whisper back. there’s another pause, as sukuna hears you yawn, his eyes grow heavy. “I’m gonna go to sleep, but,” you yawn again, “send a video of your brother tomorrow.”

sukuna smiles, “gonna think about your ex?”

“as if,” you snort, “i rarely ever think about that guy.”

sukuna’s tucks an arm behind his head, “so you think about him?”

you yawn, rolling onto your stomach, “I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

sukuna doesn’t comment on the not-so-subtle deflection, he just lets the silence sit for a second longer before muttering a low, “g’night.”

you echo it back, softer. neither of you hangs up right away, but eventually the line clicks. and the room is quiet again.

he doesn’t move for a while after. he lays there, staring at the ceiling, phone still loose in his hand. the fan hums overhead, pushing around warm summer air lingering through the cracked window. everything feels…slower, quieter, his skin stinky from his orgasm. his mind isn’t clawing at him like it has been for the past three weeks. it’s dulled, softened at the edges, and annoyingly…it’s because of you.

your voice. the way you call his name. the way you needed him, even from miles away.

sukuna exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face before finally tossing his phone onto the mattress beside him. his eyes close not long after, body sinking heavier into the bed. and for once sleep comes easy.

the next morning hits hot. the heat sticks to his skin before the sun’s even fully up, and sukuna’s already running. shirtless, drenched in sweat, muscles pulling and flexing with every stride as he cuts along the stretch near the water. his breathing is steady, controlled, but his mind is anything but…it was yesterday, but he expected some information from toji, or shiu. and his gramps words all coming back to him.

everything loops and overlaps, and it presses in from every angle until his jaw is tightening and his pace picks up just a little more, trying to outrun his fucking head.

his shoulders are rising and falling as he slows, sweat dripping down the sharp lines of his chest, his back, and disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. a few early beachgoers glance his way—lingering longer than necessary—but sukuna barely registers it. his mind is still somewhere else. the day goes by like a clock.

every blink and he’s somehow in a new location.

he ends up, back home in the bathroom. shower running. mirror fogging. and somehow his phone is resting on the counter as he’s hunched over, finger swiping—and your profile pulled up.

he scrolls without thinking. his thumb flicking lazily through pictures, your face, your smile, the ones from your study abroad trip, the old ones from nights out. he even goes through your highlights again…he pauses on one. zooms in slightly. his jaw shifts.

“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, head tipping back for a second like he’s annoyed at himself more than anything else. this is stupid. and yet, his hand won’t stop jerking his cock.

he needs you here.

his thumb taps your name before he can overthink it. the message bar blinks and he stares at it for a second. then types, quick, blunt, like it’s nothing.

send me a pic.

your lips purse as you glance at your phone. you and shoko, by some miracle have a weekend off, and that’s spent lounging in your basement. well, until you’re shifting your attention from the movie, to your phone screen.

what in the world…your fingers tap…

[1:08PM] crybaby: wdym a pic?

[1:08PM] dumbass: need some help with this

*attached photo*

your eyes bulge out of their eye sockets, phone slamming into your chest, hiding your screen, and head whipping up. shoko cranes her neck, focus on the movie still, but giving you a glance, “there wasn’t even a jumpscare.”

your eyes snap to her, “no, I just remembered i had to send my dad this one file…thing… from my—yeah give me one second.” you scramble up to your feet, heading to the stairs.

“you want me to pause—!?” shoko yells after.

within the blink of an eye, you’re back in your room, gawking at the lewd, perverted, uncalled for dick pic you were just sent.

you can recognize sukuna’s chubby engorged cock anywhere. heat crawls up your neck in seconds, the tuft of dark hair at the base and his hand wrapped around the monster, veins protruding and tip flushed red and leaking. your lips purse, controlling the way you feel your pussy clench.

[1:10PM] crybaby: u’re jerking off in the middle of the day?

[1:10PM] dumbass: yea so send a fucking pic so I can get off

[1:10PM] dumbass: ur ig is ass

you tsk, face still warm.

[1:10PM] crybaby: rude

[1:11PM] crybaby: weird asl you’re getting off to my ig anyways

[1:11PM] dumbass: weird asl my dumb ass fuck buddy isn’t fixing my problem

[1:11PM] crybaby: RUDEEEE SO RUDE

sukuna’s head tips forward in irritation. his jaw tightens as he looks down at his painful erection.

[1:12PM] crybaby: srsly tho

[1:12PM] crybaby: you can’t send or show anyone

[1:12PM] dumbass: wtf?? y tf would I do that

[1:13PM] crybaby: it’s almost like you’re in a frat or smt

sukuna tsks.

[1:13PM] dumbass: no one will see the pic

[1:13PM] dumbass: send

[1:12PM] crybaby: say please

his lip twitches….

[1:13PM] dumbass: please

you’re sat on the edge of your bed, dangerous smile plastered on your face.

[1:13PM] crybaby: please what?

he wets his lips, palm squeezing his cock, as starts moving his hand. fuck, you’re such a brat.

[1:14PM] dumbass: please send me pic of you

you’re already taking off your shorts and panties, typing…

[1:15PM] crybaby: I dunno if u sound sincere

sukuna frowns.

[1:15PM] crybaby: send me a voice note

death.

sukuna’s scowl almost cracks the mirror. you’re fucking messing with him, but at this point, he’s in desperate need of release. and unfortunately, he’d rather cum in a second just from looking at a photo of you, than search for a vid on x that’ll get him to cum in hours. so within the next thirty seconds of cursing you out under his breath. the thirty seconds following, was him tapping the audio, and holding his phone close to his lips.

[1:17PM] dumbass: *audio recording*

the first thing you hear is your name, then a distant…grunt…

“can you please,” he practically seethes, voice unbelievably deep… “…send me a goddamn photo. please—ng—“ the audio cuts off his groan.

you’re lips part.

oh. my. god.

your face bursts into flames. you position yourself, kneeling on your bed, phone up, shirt pushed over your breasts. your nipples hard from the cool air. you spread your legs, just wide enough for him to see that you’re completely bare down there. your cheeks sting, eyes darting over the photo, thumb hovering over the send button…

he’s just a fuck buddy….but he’s also a frat guy…you hesitate. your heart beats against your chest, uncharacteristically nervous.

[1:20PM] dumbass: you’re killing me here

fuck, he’s so hot—

[1:20PM] crybaby: *photo attached*

his jaw tightens, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. then he clicks the photo, and his breath catches somewhere in his chest as his eyes drag slowly over the image. your lips slightly parted, your chest, bare and soft under the daylight coming in from your room. the angle’s lazy and careless, barely even trying.

“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

his hand braces against the counter, fingers spreading slightly against the cool surface as he leans forward, head dipping. his patience, already worn thin from the run, from the past few weeks, from everything. and it’s your picture that has sukuna buckling over, aggressively jerking his swollen cock, zooming in on your tits, then back to your face, and finally shooting his load on himself and the counter.

“fuck.”

you barely make it back downstairs when you receive a photo, followed by a text. you flush at the bottom of the steps, flustered smile pulling at your lips as you stare at the cum covering sukuna’s sculpted abs, and then a thanks.

you heart the message, keeping your comment about how it’s barely been five minutes since you sent the photo, to yourself. and unfortunately the moment you glance up, your smile immediately drops.

“I was calling you,” your mom throws as she walks past you, easily scooping up your four year old niece, yazzy.

“she was ignoring you on purpose.”

your vein pops.

“I wasn’t ignoring her,” you snap at jennie, irritation written all over your voice as shoko pops her head out from the kitchen. “why did you come a week early, I thought you had stuff to do?”

your mom huffs at the attitude, her eyes flicking to see shoko, before plastering a smile, “always arguing,” she waves, her attempt at distracting your friend. “sisters.”

shoko laughs through her nose, smiling. as your mom introduces your niece to shoko, you’re reluctantly helping jennie with her suitcases, purposely giving her the cold shoulder. considering the last time you spoke turned into an argument and her leaving for the airport, you hadn’t reached out since.

“how’s working with dad?”

your eyes flick to her. “fine.”

“good.” there’s a beat of silence, just as shoko comes back to the living room.

“I’m gonna go to target,” shoko says.

your eyes lit up, “oh I’m coming too!”

shoko reserves her thoughts until you’re both in your sister’s old car. music filling the space, windows rolled down, and shoko glancing at the road ahead. “do you usually fight with your sister?”

you blink, slightly caught off guard. “I mean,” you try to form your thoughts, “she’s just judgmental, and like—never puts herself in other people’s shoes.” you shift in the drivers seat. “she thinks she’s the smartest person in the world.”

shoko isn’t like utahime…she doesn’t pry in a lot, but she’s been staying with you for the last few weeks, so it’s only inevitable that she picks up on certain things. one of which is your horrible habit of avoiding any relationship head on. while your sister is one, she clearly sees it almost everyday when you guys are at the hospital.

for the amount of times you avoid mentioning your dad when you’re in school, you’re the first to help if he needs anything at work. the first to step in, the first to skip your lunch to help, the first to act…and you’re not embarrassed.

except when other doctors are around, seeing this…and the comments follow after…

“you’re such a good daughter.” “you must be your parents favorite.” “I wish my son would act like you.” “your dad must be so proud.”

and that’s when shoko would notice the shift. the way you’d get quiet, the way you’d force out a smile, the way you’d excuse yourself to finish work. and shoko couldn’t understand the difference until you were at the bar after work. you weren’t even drinking, your sad sat comfortably in your hand as you stared at the sticky table.

“i have no idea why adults think i wanna hear being called my parents favorite like I’m ten or something,” you scowl quietly, irritation bubbling over from the long ass day.

“yeah that was weird,” shoko nods along sipping from her drink and scrolling on her phone.

“like actually, I’m my dads favorite because I’m doing exactly what he wants me to do. obviously I’m not gonna embarrass him and be lazy especially because he got me this job, but that doesn’t mean i want to be there,” you groan head falling on the bar. “freaking hate working there, and i hate his stupid comments.”

shoko glances up, “did he say something today?”

you frown, “I can’t do this without you,” you recall his words, brows pinching tighter. “bros acting like I’m the best support beam ever, freaking doormat can’t even say anything back.” you bury your face in your arm.

shoko reaches a hand out, touching your arm in comfort. “yeah…hopefully you get something after the program.”

you hum quietly, higurama’s words from a few weeks ago resurfacing. “I have that meeting with hiromi’s uncle next week.”

shoko’s eyes light up. “ohh that’s really good!”

you smile at her excitement, nodding. “yeah, hopefully he gets me a contact.”

shoko nods frantically, “for sure for sure!” she waves a bartender, “let’s get a shot.”

“just one,” you cut in.

as the bartender slides two shot glances towards you gushing, shoko is raising the glass. “and gojo finally decided on dates for the trip.”

your brows furrow, “isn’t that with just your little high school group?”

shoko nods, “last summer gojo invited a ton of randos, and me and utahime told him we’re gonna invite you, but you had something last summer.” oh right. “so do these dates work for you,” shoko says turning her phone screen towards you.

you hum, butterflies breaking out inside your chest. it’ll be a good summer….just after these hellish few weeks.

so shoko stays silent on the ride to target, easily changing the topic and turning up the volume to the music. 

“oh and sorry about my sister barging in, but she’ll be in a hotel next week when her husband comes, so you can just stay with me in my room.” 

shoko waves you off, “all good.” 

and the flow in the car returns as shoko talks about how she didn’t like the movie you just watched, while you defend it, hands flying, voice animated, a laugh slipping out of you. completely unaware of the events that transpire hours later, a few hundred miles away, with a certain soccer captain—

the venue is loud. amps buzzing, feedback screeching through cheap speakers, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder as the set bleeds into chaos with applause. people are shouting, laughing, drinks sloshing onto the floor—

and sukuna is already pushing through it, hard. people stumble when he hits them, curses thrown over shoulders, but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t apologize. doesn’t even look back. his expression is sharp, carved in something ugly and his jaw is locked so tight it aches, eyes dark and fixed on one thing only. backstage.

“move,” he snaps, voice cutting through the noise like a blade. someone tries to protest just for sukuna to aggressively shove past them anyway.

the curtain jerks as he pushes through, the muffled roar of the crowd dropping just enough, and then he sees him. choso.

sitting off to the side, shoulders hunched, eyes red…too red. his hands are clenched in his lap, knuckles pale, breathing uneven. sukuna’s blood pressure spikes so fast it feels dizzying, a rush of heat flooding his chest, his arms, his hands. and his fists are already curling before he even realizes it.

because just a foot away stands kaori.

sukuna goes completely still for half a second, his gaze dragging from her to the red mark on choso’s cheek.

then something in him snaps.

a/n: I know that was over a month wait for the chapter. so many things happened, ramadan, work, etc. and I really thank you all for your patience, and it always make me so unbelievably grateful that you guys are still reading, so thank you thank you thank you!! 

You weren’t initially planning on keeping the cat. When you brought him home, you thought at most he would’ve stayed the night before you dropped him off at the local shelter. One night turned into two. Two nights turned into a week. Before you knew it, Snowbell became the second member of your household.

You tried to do the right thing, at first. You knew Snowbell probably had an owner who was worried sick looking for him. There was no way that wasn’t true. Despite the grim, sooty conditions you found the cat in, it was clear he was well-cared for and domesticated. His sweet blue eyes and long white fur were clear indicators that he wasn’t the average streetcat. As much as you tried to look for his original owner, nothing came of it. For the time being, Snowbell was stuck with you.

He never once hissed or scratched at you. He was such a sweet kitten, perfectly happy to lounge around on your bed or your sofa, dutifully waiting for you to come back home. You never had any problems other cat owners had with their cats scratching up their wooden furniture or making litter accidents. Life with him was peaceful and domestic. Idyllic, even.

Still, there was something strangely off-putting about Snowbell. You could never fully explain it. As pretty as his crystal-blue eyes were, you felt like there was something more underneath. Sometimes, it really felt like Snowbell was laughing at you. There were times he did things that were too human and less animalistic. Pet owners often overestimated how smart their animals were, but you were sure there was something about Snowbell you could never put your finger on.

Maybe that was the issue. You personified him too much–humanized him.

Snowbell disappeared through an open window one sunny day, just like any other cat would have.

You had been an emotional wreck that night. You cried all throughout the night and barely got any sleep. Pathetically, you cuddled the spot of the bed Snowbell used to lie on, as though his lingering warmth would be nestled in the pillows. You almost called in sick for work the next morning before inevitably deciding to sludge your way through the day. You hadn’t even remembered opening that window, but it wasn’t like Snowbell sprouted human hands and pushed it open himself. Guilt for being a shitty pet owner clung to you like dirt.

Snowbell disappeared on Monday. That night, you called every shelter you could think of in search of him. The volunteers on the other end assured you they’d call you if they saw anything, but you doubted anything would come of it. On Tuesday, you and some of your friends went out on a failed search. On Wednesday, you left out food and your shirt outside your apartment in a feeble attempt to lure him back. On Thursday, you went out to search for him again, but alone.

Snowbell disappeared on Monday. By Friday, you were starting to lose hope of ever finding him.

The door rattled as you shut it behind you. You were supposed to call the landlord about it ages ago, but you never got around to it. Non-urgent, but extremely annoying. Yet another thing tacked onto this terrible day.

Tomorrow was the weekend. You knew you wouldn’t spend it lounging around your apartment, catching up on that show you put off. You would be outdoors, continuing your search for hidden corners and pockets.

On the way out, you ran into your neighbor. Tachibana smiled at you–those pitiful little smiles you’d give to someone who got drenched by a speeding car careening over a puddle. Perhaps, in her eyes, there wasn’t much of a difference between the current you and someone like that.

Her daughter lingered just behind her. She was a sweet girl. Last you remembered, she was about to enter elementary school. She wore her hair in a trimmed bob with a bright blue headband. It reminded you of Snowbell’s bright eyes, the way he would track your movement across the apartment with such intelligence.

You were close enough with Tachibana and her daughter to exchange greetings. Some type of small talk. Tachibana gracefully danced around the glaring topic because she had lived in society for quite some time now.

Dani was less perceptive towards social norms. She peered up at you with big softened eyes.

“Have you found him yet?” She asked before her mother could hush her.

Despite the ache in your heart, you smiled down at her.

“Not yet,” you said, “but I’m sure he’ll turn up soon.”

You weren’t the only one dealing with the loss of Snowbell. The few times you had to leave for a last-minute trip, you often left your cat in the care of the Tachibanas. Dani adored that cat, snuggling him every time she saw him. Snowbell mostly tolerated it. He got along well with most of your friends and neighbors.

Dani frowned, clearly not convinced, but she said nothing more about it. She gave a wave as she and her mother brushed by you and back into their apartment. You smiled until their door shut and locked behind them.

The act was exhausting. You were glad you didn’t pass by anyone else as you wandered out the glass doors, onto the busy streets of the city. People brushed by you, completely oblivious to your misery. You didn’t fault them. Why would anyone pay attention to a stranger? You certainly wouldn’t.

You glanced down at your phone. There was nothing. No alerts, no beeps, no missed calls from someone having found your pet. You expected it. It still sank your heart.

You tucked your phone in your pocket, shuffling around with the missing cat posters under your arm. It was your last batch. Once you put these up, you promised yourself you wouldn’t make any more.

You didn’t want to spend Friday night like this. Not many people would. Your friends tried to talk you out of it, encouraging you to go out with them like you were grieving a break-up. Maybe to them, that’s what you were doing. Maybe they thought you needed a break from your misery.

But the thought of Snowbell being out there, alone, lost, and cold. Completely helpless. Injured–maybe even dead. It was all too much for you to think about abandoning the search for even one night.

By the time you stapled the last poster, the sun had already sunk well below the horizon. Oranges and reds streaked across the sky. In a few hours, it would be well into the night, limiting your vision.

If that wasn’t enough, it started to drizzle. The smell of rain hit your nose. The air started to mist ever so slightly, causing the area around you to take on a faint-blue hue. Apparently, everyone was smarter than you. The streets were empty, with the few people left carrying umbrellas or coats. Cold drops hit your hands, your face, your clothes. It wasn’t enough to soak you, but the dark marks on your clothes got more and more prevalent as the seconds passed. For lack of better words, this severely dampened your mood. You knew all those hours of you putting up missing cat posters would turn into soggy, unreadable scraps by the end of this storm, whisking away into the drain to never be seen again.

It was as though the universe itself was telling you to give up.

You’d try again tomorrow. Hopefully, by then, the rain would clear up. You pulled out your phone to check the time when you stumbled. Your fingers slipped, and you lost your grip on your phone, lips pulling up in a cringe when it crashed onto the ground and slid away from you.

You cursed to yourself as you made your way towards it. You really hoped it hadn’t cracked in the fall.

Pale, lithe fingers reached down and plucked it off the pavement.

It’s like he stepped off a runway. His clothes were expensive just from the look of the fabric itself. Despite the drizzle, he remained perfectly dry. His white hair framed his face perfectly. You couldn’t see his eyes, covered by black sunglasses. He might have been the most beautiful man you ever saw.

He silently offered your phone. You accepted it with grateful hands.

“Thank you.” You told him. Where had he even come from? You thought you were alone on this side of the road.

Pink lips curved into an easy-going smile as he towered over you. The stranger hadn’t stepped back once he handed your phone back. Instead, he leaned forward ever so slightly.

“Cute wallpaper.” He commented.

You glanced down at your phone. Your lock screen showed Snowbell in mid-stretch, baby-pink paws reaching towards the sky as he lounged on your bedsheets. You’d had many pictures of Snowbell, but you thought that was your favorite snapshot.

It was one of the few things you had left of him now.

You feigned a smile.

“Oh, thank you.”

The stranger didn’t register your clipped tone. “How long have you had him?”

“Barely a few weeks.” You honestly said before wincing. “I…I’m actually looking for him so–”

When people comment on your cat’s disappearance, there’s often a twinge of pity somewhere in their eyes. It made you feel small–pathetic. You steeled yourself, readying for that same look before he finally left you alone.

There’s none of that.

“I was about to ask.” The stranger hummed. “I thought he looked familiar. I think I’ve seen him before.”

Your eyes snapped up to his face.

“You’ve seen him?” What followed was a barrage of questions: Where was he? What did he look like? Was he injured? How long ago was it?

The stranger barely even flinched at your demands for answers. Even as you leaned into his space, he barely backed up. His smile grew wider as he opened his mouth to speak.

You jumped at the clap of thunder. The already darkened sky swirled with angry gray-blue clouds. The drizzle threatened to intensify.

He glanced up and clicked his tongue.

“How about we talk somewhere indoors?”

🐾

As soon as you stepped into the restaurant, the weather got ugly.

Rain thumped against the window, spraying water onto the soaked concrete sidewalks and roads. Puddles grew across the ground. Thunder rumbled as lightning streaked across the sky every so often. The wind aggressively blew past your shelter, changing direction every few minutes. You’d hate to be stuck out there at that very moment.

Compared to the storm's harshness, the restaurant was a haven. The warmth heated your cheeks as you shrugged off your coat. It looked a bit on the expensive side. Warm candlelight illuminated each table. You sat in a comfortable chair with a red plush seat, watching the waitress happily fill your cup with fresh water.

He was already glancing at the menu as you awkwardly sat across from him.

“What are you thinking of getting?” He asked as he flipped through the laminated pages. “Oh! The eel here is to die for. You’ll love it, promise.” He assured you.

You pursed your lips. “I’m not actually–”

“This also seems good.” He shoved the menu in front of your face, and you reflexively flinched back. “Wanna try it?”

You forgot how you even got to this point. When he suggested talking indoors, you thought he meant a brief shelter from the rain.

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress cheerfully asked.

“Yes!” He said before rattling off a long list of various foods and treats. He then turned to you with a questioning hum.

“Just the water is fine.” You told her, and she happily gathered your menus before she hurried off.

“Isn’t this place adorable?” He asked you. “I found it a while ago. I think a nice, quiet dinner with rain right outside sets the perfect tone.” He leaned back in his chair.

You stared at him and tried to figure out what he was even talking about.

“You said you saw my cat, right?” You changed topics. “Where did you see him?”

“I definitely saw him!” He told you. “A couple of times, actually. Trust me—would never forget that face. He’s really easy on the eyes, huh?”

Your eyes flitted down as you thought of pretty white fur and sparkling blue eyes. You spent hours a week grooming him, fluffing out his soft fur, and making him the best version of himself he could be. He was the prettiest kitten you’ve ever laid your eyes on, and you couldn’t help but make him even prettier.

“He is,” you agreed. You found yourself smiling just thinking about him.

“Really?” He leaned forward. A mischievous smile spread across his lips. “He’s handsome, right? Really handsome?”

Your eyes narrowed as you continued to eye him. Why was he trying to goad you into complimenting your cat?

“Of course he is,” you responded. It felt more and more like he was making fun of you. Were you wasting your time here?

He leaned back, looking oddly satisfied.

“I’m sure he’d be happy hearing you say that,” he told you. “Cats are really good about these things, y’know. Emotions and all that.”

“Right,” you said, hoping to ease him along into the conversation you really wanted to have. “So, again, you said you–”

“Oh, food’s here!” He cut you off and pointed excitedly to somewhere behind you. “I’m starved.”

Sure enough, the waitress stepped into your vision with a friendly smile pressed on painted lips. You watched as she set down pretty porcelain plates and bowls, most crowded in his direction. The smell of steaming veggies and heaps of rice drifted into your nose. Your lips twitched into a frown as the plates continued to pile up before the waitress set something right in front of you.

You moved, quick to correct her blunder. “Oh, I never ordered anything–”

Your words caught in your throat when you realized it was your favorite dish.

“You should try it!” The man urged. “They make it really well here.”

You watched him for a minute. He paid you no mind, continuing to chow down on his meal. How did he know this was your favorite meal?

When you asked him, he stopped eating, looking amused.

“No way, I was right?” He laughed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “You seemed like the type of person who would like this type of stuff. I guess I’m good at reading people.”

So it truly was a coincidence. You glanced down at the meal. Compared to how you made it at home, the restaurant’s version was immaculate. You weren’t too upset. After all, you weren’t a chef. The scent of the food reminded you of all those times you had to fight off Snowbell. He’d go wild anytime you made it. He would constantly appear in the kitchen, eager for a tasty swipe. You’d feed him scraps, letting him enjoy your hard labour every once in a while. You didn’t do it too often, afraid he might get sick, but you secretly appreciated how much he liked it.

In those times, he felt more human than cat.

“What are you waiting for?” A voice snapped you out of your thoughts. The man gestured to your plate. He was halfway done with his own meal. “The food won’t eat itself.”

It wasn’t like you could refuse, right? He’d already ordered it. You felt it was rude to reject his offering, no matter how strange this man was.

You took a bite.

“It’s good,” you said. You took another one.

He nodded along. “I told you!”

His voice quietened a bit after.

“Still, I think it’s better homemade.”

You agreed with him.

You took another bite. Then, you took another. After your tenth bite, you suddenly realized how little you’d been eating lately. Your free time was spent thinking about Snowbell and worrying about him. You barely had time to sleep, let alone eat a hearty meal.

Sometime after that, your belly was full, the plates were cleared of food, and it was still raining. You found yourself perched right at the doors, hearing the murmurs of the other restaurant’s patrons behind you. You watched as the rain lightly tapped at the crystal glass. The more you thought about the way this night ended, the more humour you found.

Earlier, you had been stuck out in the rain before being picked up by a strange man. It almost paralleled the night you found Snowbell.

(You stumbled onto him one random evening after work. You were hurrying home, eager to get out of the rain. The umbrella you held kept most of the moisture off your clothes, but you could feel water drip through your shoes and up the cuffs of your pants. You could almost imagine chucking them off and enjoying a nice warm shower.

Just then, you saw a streak of white.

Barely a glimpse. At first, you thought it was a plastic bag hurtling into an alleyway. You should have pressed on and ignored it. For whatever reason, you followed the gut feeling nestled deep inside of you.

It was a filthy alley. Trash littered the walls and splattered across the ground. The rain made the smell of garbage even more pungent. You scrunched your nose as you peered around.

Something rattled right behind a garbage can. You crouched down as you tried to steal a peek behind the dumpster.

“Come out here.” You clicked your tongue, trying to be as enticing as you could. You thought it was a small dog, at first.

A shadow peeked out of the dumpster.

The prettiest kitten you’d ever seen blinked at you.

Despite the rain that soaked it to the bone, you could make out pure white fur that was tarnished by mud and water. Flattened ears and a pink nose.

The most notable feature of the animal was its eyes.

The brightest blue you’d ever seen.

Like the cloudless sky on a summer day. The color of a calm, peaceful lake, with barely a ripple of disturbance. There was so much life packed within those eyes. They almost put you in a trance, and momentarily made you forget the rain and the harshness of the wind. The warmth and peace that lingered beneath those irises was enough to push away the cold.

A smile spread across your face as you crouched even lower, hoping you’d make yourself seem less threatening.

“Hi there.” You cooed at the cat, who only stared right back. “Are you lost?”

When you reached out, the creature barely flinched. It appeared more confused than anything as you stroked the top of its head before dropping down to scratch its cheek.

Eventually, your affections seemed to win the cat over to your side. Before long, it leaned into your touch, as if enjoying your petting. Happy at the progress you made in such a short time, you attempt to lift it from the grimy ground. Thankfully, the cat allowed you without much fuss. You tucked it under your arms, keeping it in the shelter of your umbrella. Considering how well it did with strangers, it was clear the cat was domesticated. Did it slip away from its owner when they weren’t looking?

“Poor thing.” You were awed by the sweet little kitten. “Where’s your owner?”

You continued to observe it. No collar. No distinct marking of a claim. You debated going online on missing pet forums. Maybe someone reported the poor guy.

How long had the poor thing been outside? It couldn’t have been any more than a day. The cat was practically a white beacon begging to be noticed. There’s no way this cat wouldn’t have been snatched up by a predator if you hadn’t stumbled upon it. In the harsh city environment, it was utterly helpless.

You hummed, glancing up at the sky.

“Looks like we’re both caught in this weather.” You talked out loud. “It’s a good thing we found each other, right?”

The cat continued to stare at you with large blue eyes. You smiled before tucking it into the warmth of your coat.

“You’re okay now.” You told it. “I’ll keep you safe.”

You knew you were just seeing things, but you swore the cat understood you, somehow.)

“Does it look like it’s going down?” A voice asked.

The man stood by your side, peering out the same window you were. You watched as his sunglasses crept over his nose, close to dropping down, before you glanced away.

“No.” You told him. “I don’t think the rain will stop for a long while.”

He hummed in agreement. “If we waited for it to stop, we’d probably be stuck here for hours.” He didn’t sound too upset at that, you couldn’t help but note to yourself.

You nodded along. Just like the rest of the week, tonight had ended in a bust. No Snowbell. No cat. You were stuck in a warm building after eating a delicious meal, while your cat was probably out in the cold somewhere, waiting for you.

Something stung in the back of your eyes.

You were a shitty pet owner.

“I saw him yesterday.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. He stared right at the glass. You waited for him to say something more, but he remained silent.

“Was he–” You swallowed. Your mouth felt dry. “Was he okay?”

“Yeah.” He told you. “He looked great. You took great care of him. I can tell.”

Relief snagged at your heart, weighing your shoulders down with a type of pain you’d never felt before.

“I tried to catch him, but he was a bit too slippery for me.” He clicked his tongue.

You failed to muffle your laugh. Snowbell had easily coaxed himself into your arms the first night you found him. You shouldn’t have been proud of this, but you felt something oddly like pride to know you were the only person he cuddled up to.

“Thank you.” You told him. “For the meal and for letting me know you saw him. It was really nice of you to do all of that.”

Outside, the rain dwindled ever so slightly. In the morning, a light fog would drift over the city, suffocating the streetlamps and the roads. The potholes in the streets would be filled with soot and water far into the afternoon with the sun blaring overhead. A bare heat would fill the city, gentle from the rain, but still warm.

“You really miss the guy, don’t you?” He asked.

You didn’t bother to answer. It’s not like you ever tried to hide your desperation. Everyone in your life thought you were crazy for losing it over a pet as you had in the past days. No one told it to your face, but you knew that’s what they thought. To others, you were some cat-crazed person who wandered the streets. You did miss him. You missed him more than anything.

“I don’t think the rain will stop anytime soon,” you said, “I'd better go before it gets too late.”

“I could drive you back,” he suggested.

You shook your head, insisting you’d be fine. You expected him to push back at your refusal. He seemed to take your rejection in stride, reaching out with something in his lithe fingers.

“Take this, then.” He settled the bundled-up umbrella into your limp hand. You recognized what it was after you instinctively grabbed it.

“No, it’s fine—“ You tried to insist, but he waved you off.

“Just take it. I’d hate for you to walk out in this weather without one. You should’ve had an umbrella in the first place.” He berated you, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

“Just give it back when we search for your kitty.”

You blinked up at him.

“We?” You repeated his words.

He nodded eagerly. “You planned on searching for him tomorrow, right?”

Of course you were, and the day after that, too.

“I’ll come with you.” He declared. “Two heads are better than one, right?”

What was so appealing about skulking outside, searching for the slightest hint of white fur? This man was such an enigma; you didn’t understand him. You knew you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The more eyes you have, the better. Yet, you couldn’t help the feeling that rested in your stomach.

“Why?” You asked, but it sounded more like a demand. “Why do you want to help me?”

The man tilted his head downward. The softest laugh left his lips at the same moment his sunglasses slipped down his nose.

His eyes.

The brightest blue you’d ever seen.

Like the cloudless sky on a summer day. The color of a calm, peaceful lake, with barely a ripple of disturbance. There was so much life packed within those eyes. They almost put you in a trance, and momentarily made you forget the rain and the harshness of the wind. The warmth and peace that lingered beneath those irises was enough to push away the cold.

They looked familiar.

“I knew somebody who lost their pet, once,” He told you as his lips quirked up. “It’s a sad thing. No one should go through that.”

Everything he said sounded like a joke, but you saw the sincerity in his eyes.

“This person.” You glanced outside when the sear of his gaze got too much. “Did they ever end up finding their pet?”

He nodded. You didn’t know why that gave you so much relief.

“If you have time tomorrow, then yes,” you said, “I’d really appreciate the help. Thank you.”

“Great!” He clapped his hands together before pulling out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers, so we can meet up tomorrow.”

You agreed, wordlessly handing him your phone before you realized something.

“I don’t even know your name.” You said out loud.

He laughed again.

“Gojo Satoru.” He introduced before raising a finger in the air to point at you. “But you should call me Satoru.”

You hesitantly received your phone from his hands. The contact name ‘Satoru :3’ stared back at you.

“We should speak more comfortably with each other. After all, we’re gonna be kitty hunting buddies, right? ”

🐾

(The best thing about Snowbell was how sweet he was.

Not just to you (but mostly to you). He was loved by everyone on your floor. Children like Dani adored him, and often asked about him whenever you ran into her. You’ve read that cats were often aloof and hated strangers, but Snowbell wasn’t like that at all. He was liked by everyone and everyone loved him.

And then, Hatori came along.

You’d known Hatori for a while, actually. You two weren’t friends–barely a step up from acquaintances. He was a nice guy and you two were similar in age. Whenever you passed him by in the halls, you made small talk but you never went out of your way to do anything more.

So when you briefly mentioned having a plumbing issue and Hatori offered to take a look at it, you accepted immediately.

“Thanks again.” You told him as you led him into your apartment. “Seriously, it’s been driving me up the wall. All that noise.”

“I get it.” He assured you. “The one in your kitchen, right?”

You nodded. A fluff of white caught your attention. You were about to point your cat out to Hatori when all Hell broke loose.

Snowbell made a sound that was almost demonic before he rushed at Hatori. You barely stopped him before he could get to Hatori’s foot, holding him up by the scruff as he thrashed around in your hold. You kept him to your chest as your cat continued his onslaught. If looks could kill, Hatori would’ve been dead ten times over by now.

“I’m sorry.” You told Hatori as Snowbell continued to thrash and struggle. It was getting harder and harder to keep a hold on him. “He–he’s usually not like this.”

Hatori stepped closer to the door.

“I should go.” He concluded.

“I’m sorry.” You told him again.

Snowbell didn’t stop until Hatori was long gone. His fit was bad. At one point, he’d even hacked something up because of how stressed he was. You coddled him the best you could, apologizing to him over and over. He settled in your arms hours later and peacefully purred into your chest as you stroked his head.

You’d never seen him act like that before, but maybe you were wrong about him liking everyone. Maybe he had a bad experience with men and that’s why he acted like that? You should probably bring it up to your vet the next time you go to the clinic.

Either way, this was the last time you’d ever bring Hatori over.

You kissed the top of Snowbell’s head. His pretty blue eyes blinked up at you.

“Don’t worry,” you cooed, “you’re the only man for me.)

Twenty minutes later, Satoru still hadn’t arrived.

You crossed your arms as you lingered near the streetlight. People meandered their way through the busy street all around you. As the minutes ticked on, you grew more and more frustrated. You should have expected this. From the short while you’d known Satoru, he was not the most punctual guy in the world.

He turned up eventually, practically skipping up to you with a smile on his face.

“Didn’t have to make you wait too long, right?” He grinned, completely ignoring the frown on your face.

“I was about to leave.” You chastised. “You need to be more respectful of people’s time.”

He raised his arms up in a semblance of an apology.

“Whoops, my bad,” he said, “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose. I’ve been swamped at school. Lots of stuff to catch up on ‘cuz I took an unprompted vacation a few weeks ago.”

He mentioned being a teacher a couple of times, but you can’t imagine him doing that. Sitting around and grading papers doesn’t seem like the type of job Satoru excelled at, but maybe that was just because you saw this side of him rather than anything professional.

“Okay!” He clasped his hands together. “So far, we’ve checked the area around your apartment. Maybe we should broaden the search a little.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, your initial frustration waning.

“Maybe we should stop thinking like humans and start thinking like cats.” He told you with the utmost seriousness. “Places like underneath bridges and dark places scared little kitties might crawl into for shelter.”

That was a pretty good point, actually. There was a chance Snowbell wandered off somewhere, maybe in a crevasse you wouldn’t think to look for him in.

With a plan secured, the two of you set off. You and Satoru checked wherever you could think of: underneath bridges, in the park, and on the outskirts of a clump of trees. Each time, you came up empty. Any cat you did see never resembled Snowbell in the tiniest bit. They were often so skittish and wary of humans, shrinking away when you came close.

You still left a bit of wet food for them when you turned away. Maybe it had to do with your lost pet, but any stray cat chipped away at your heart.

Satoru passed the time as he often did, talking and yammering about anything he could. So far, the two of you had gone ‘hunting’ five or so times–each trip ending in nothing. Despite how disappointed you were after every failure, Satoru was more chipper than ever. Most would find how talkative he was absolutely annoying, but you didn’t mind one bit. His upbeat attitude felt comforting, like it was his own way of assuring you everything would be okay.

You often felt like you knew him forever. However, it was more realistic to assume you’d known him for three weeks at most. Maybe even less. He was just that type of person. That personality of his reminded you of Snowbell. He was a little like that too, yowling like he was trying to start a conversation with you even though you didn’t understand his language.

Lots of little things Satoru did reminded you of Snowbell, actually.

A couple hours into the search, Satoru suggested taking a break. You didn’t argue.

“There’s a cafe a little ways from here.” Satoru suggested. “I love their coffee.”

You’d seen the surgery contraptions he calls ‘coffee’ and you’d rather not relive that experience. Also, everytime Satoru brought you to a restaurant, he always insisted on paying, leaving you more and more guilty for taking advantage of him. These outings were starting to feel less like searches and more like dates.

You almost laughed, but you held your tongue. Ridiculous. He was just being a nice guy.

“My place isn’t that far from here,” you said as you turned to him. “Let’s just stop there and I can make us something to eat.”

For the first time, Satoru genuinely looked lost for words. He blinked at you behind his sunglasses.

“You never let me pay.” You explained. “The least you could do is let me cook for you.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Sure! Let’s go!”

You eyed him. He reeled himself back.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve had a home cooked meal,” he told you.

“Hm.” You walked away, not at all fighting the urge to tease him a bit. “So, what. You’ve just been surviving on instant noodles this whole time? Poor baby.”

“I eat.” He told you after he caught up to your pace. “How else do you think I got these muscles?” He playfully flexed but even underneath those baggy clothes you saw his bicep. You forced your eyes away and hoped he didn’t notice.

“Let’s just get you something before those precious muscles of yours get all flabby.”

You let him into your house ten minutes later. Satoru walked in and slipped off his shoes. He placed them next to yours before he looked around.

His steps were slow as he surveyed your home. You watched as he walked up to a window, hands drifting over the glass.

“...Smaller than I remember.” You heard him say.

“What?” You asked.

He pointed out the window.

“From the ground, the buildings look a lot bigger, right? But when we’re up here, they are a lot tinier,” he said.

Right, of course that’s what he meant.

He wandered to your photographs, scanning over the various knick-knacks and other things you’ve kept over the years. He smiled when he caught the lone picture of Snowbell, framed and proudly displayed. He lightly tapped on the glass.

“What a cutie,” he told you.

You agreed, stepping closer to admire the picture as well. Snowbell had always loved attention and he was oddly very photogenic. Anytime you whipped your camera out, he would stretch and purr and create these adorable poses for you to snap away at. You often wondered if you should make an instagram for him so more people could enjoy his adorableness.

Maybe you missed your chance.

“Seriously, the cutest little guy.” Satoru continued. “Terrible name choice, though.”

You rolled your eyes. This argument again. You couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose or if he genuinely had a personal vendetta against the name ‘Snowbell’.

“It’s a cute name,” you argued back.

“It’s uncreative. Especially for a work of art like that.” He pointed to the picture of your cat. “Lemme’ guess, you’d name a black and white cat oreo.”

‘Cow would be cuter,’ you thought, but you decided not to give him more ammo.

“It just stuck. Besides, I didn’t come up with the name. My neighbor did.”

It was a couple days after you brought the cat home. Back then, you weren’t sure if you were keeping him. His original name was even more uncreative–‘Cat’. Then, when you were helping Tachibana lug up groceries, her daughter asked if she could see photos. After showing her the numerous pictures you snapped of ‘Cat’, Dani excitedly exclaimed how similar ‘Cat’ looked to the cat in ‘Stuart Little’. Thanks to her, ‘Cat’ turned into ‘Snowbell’.

“Ah,” Satoru said after your tangent, “So Dani came up with the name, then.”

You nodded, but then you blinked.

“How did you know her name?” You asked.

“You mentioned her,” Satoru breezily replied.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Pretty sure you did.” He smiled. “How else would I know?”

Your mouth opened, when a knock came from the door. You decided to table the discussion for now.

You smiled when you saw who it was.

“Hatori!” You greeted. “What brings you here?”

Hatori lingered by the door, polite and reserved as always. He gave a pleasant wave.

“Hey, hope I’m not a bother,” he said, “just hoping I could borrow a cup of sugar.”

You gave a smile. This isn’t the first time he asked for favors like that. You didn’t mind. It was nice to see a sweet tooth that doesn’t go overboard with his sugar like somebody you knew.

Like he’d been summoned, Satoru appeared behind you. You bumped into his chest just as you were about to let Hatori inside. He was so close. You could feel his breath on your back. His faded cologne lingered in the air.

You glanced up. Through his sunglasses, Satoru full-on glared at Hatori.

He’d never looked that upset before. Usually he was all goofy and happy-go-lucky. Now, he was stiff, coiled up like a spring.

“Sorry.” Satoru gave a smile filled with sharp teeth. Had he always had fangs? “We’re all out.”

Hatori blinked. So did you. He reacted first.

“Sorry.” Hatori narrowed his eyes and he looked between you and Satoru. “Who are you exactly?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Satoru reached past you and slammed the door in Hatori’s face.

You remained frozen even after Satoru retreated back into the apartment, slumping onto the couch.

“Uh, what was that?” You demanded after a bit of recovering.

“What?” Satoru whined, immediately going back to his usual attitude. You wondered if you imagined it all. “He was bothering you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“He wasn’t bothering me. He’s my neighbor.”

“You should stay away from him.” Satoru finally told you.

You stared at him as he lounged over your couch as though he owned it. Sunlight streamed through your window, illuminating his hair.

You should have been mad at him. You should have kicked him out. And yet, you could still remember his presence imprinted on your back as he kept you on him. You wondered when your heartbeat would slow down.

“Why?”

“He’s bad juju,” he responded. “I can feel it.”

You gave him a look. “Right. Okay.”

“I can tell with these types of things!” He argued back. “Stay away from him. He’s bad news. He might make spiders crawl out of your sink!”

You rolled your eyes and turned away.

“Do you want food or do you just want to make more conspiracy theories about my neighbor being a spider whisperer?”

“Food, please.” Satoru immediately sprung up from the couch and followed you into the kitchen.

Again, you knew you should’ve been more upset with him. Yet, you weren’t.

It oddly felt familiar.

🐾

The cold made the alcohol bearable.

It warmed your stomach, flushing your cheeks with heat as you felt the burn travel down your throat. When you were younger, you despised the taste of alcohol. You could never understand why anyone would willingly drink the stuff.

These days, you still didn't understand, and yet you drank anyway.

You had to stop soon, but for now, you tossed your head back in reflex, taking another gulp. The bar remained sparse of people. There was nobody in the corner you stashed yourself in, surrounded by empty glasses. You preferred this. You don’t want anyone seeing how miserable you were.

Six weeks had passed since you last saw Snowbell. Truthfully, you stopped looking for him by the second. It was clear what happened to him.

He was dead.

If the universe was merciful, his death was quick. Maybe a predator snatched him up before he blinked. Other deaths sounded far more gruesome: eating something poisonous and collapsing on the hard floor of a cold alley, being hit by a car, or just starving to death.

A more hopeful part of you still believed he might have been picked up before you could send those missing posters out. He was a pretty kitty. His white fur was long and his fluffy tail curled so elegantly. His sweet blue eyes were wide and earnest. The chance of someone seeing him out and about and falling in love with him the same way you did was highly plausible.

Maybe they had seen the posters and just didn’t want to give him back. You think you would be fine with that. You just wanted to know he was okay. A sign. The slightest hint of–

“-Started without me, I see?” A voice teased from your left.

You didn’t bother looking up.

“You don’t drink.” You reminded him, but you didn’t argue when Satoru slipped into the seat across from you.

“Still, it hurts to be left behind.” He arched his plush lips into a faux pout before his mischievous smile was back on his flawless face.

You didn’t even tell him you’d be here, and yet, he showed up anyway. That was always the thing with him. He always just showed up, no matter where you were.

His outfit mirrored the cold that lingered outside of the bar. He was dressed in an expensive looking coat, something that nicely shaped his shoulders and torso. His fluffy white hair contrasted with the dark sunglasses he always wore on his face as he surveyed the mess you surrounded yourself in.

You thought you were about to receive a lecture from him. His smile faded ever so slightly.

“You’ve been crying.”

You didn’t bother denying it. Slowly, you reached up, brushing at your face. Your eyes felt raw, your skin felt open and vulnerable. Your nose felt oddly stuffy, like you were recovering from a fever.

Satoru watched you. You gave a helpless shrug.

“It’s the same thing I’m always crying about.” You admitted. That’s all you really wanted to say, but the words suddenly started pouring out and you couldn’t help yourself.

“I know how stupid this all looks. Trust me, I’m aware.” You started, looking into the glass of your golden brown drink because looking at him would be too much. “He was just a cat. That’s what everyone says to me.”

‘You need to move on,’ ‘You should get another cat if you care that much’. You’d heard all those things and more. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hate the people who’ve said that to you. They wanted to help, in their own way. To them, it was more like watching a child bawl over a lost toy. They didn’t understand.

“He…he wasn’t just a cat to me.” You bit your lip. “He was family. So yeah, the thought of him out there in the cold, miserable. I…I just really hope he’s happy.”

You thought you felt tears prick into the corners of your eyes. You blinked them away.

When you looked at Satoru, you felt yourself frowning.

“Stop doing that.” You told him. Your voice was tight and stern.

“Stop doing what?” Satoru repeated.

“Stop smiling like that.” You insisted. “You always do that. You–you always get this really big smile whenever I start gushing about him.”

“I’m not smiling.” Satoru denied, while still openly smiling.

“Liar.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't complain much further. He had this trick he liked to do sometimes. You just looked at him, and you instantly felt better, even a bit.

Snowbell used to have that effect on you, too. Anytime you cuddled with him, his presence washed away any stresses you had. There was just him and his soft fur.

Satoru laughed and shook his head.

“The way you speak of him…it’s nice.” He told you. “It’s nice to hear that. Your cat’s lucky to be so loved. I’m sure he’d be overjoyed to hear how much you missed him.”

You stared up at him.

“You think so?” You asked, your voice hushed.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He did that often, too. He talked about things like he knew more than he let on–like he knew a secret you didn’t.

Or maybe that’s just the way he talked. He’d always been so odd and eccentric. From the short time you’d known him, he always dragged you from one place to another. He was constantly rambling about things you couldn’t catch onto. You’d call him ditzy if you didn’t know any better.

“You know what I think you should do?” Satoru suddenly piped up.

You looked up at him questioningly.

“I think you need something to get your mind off of the whole thing. Clear your head!”

You glanced around at where you were, what you were doing. Yeah, this was getting a bit pathetic.

“Okay.” You agreed. “Like what?”

His smile curled in mischief.

🐾

“What am I supposed to be waiting for, again?”

“Just hold on.” Satoru’s muffled voice came.

You crossed your arms, but you stayed put. Satoru’s apartment was huge. Even from your place on the lavish couch, you could see the wealth sprawled across his place. A bit empty, like he barely lived there.

Presently, he had tucked himself inside his room and told you ‘It’s a surprise!’ You had no idea what he meant by that, but knowing him, he was probably going to come out in something extremely ridiculous. Your imagination took off without you. You could totally imagine him waltzing out after stuffing himself in a hot dog costume.

He didn’t come out in a hot dog costume. Somehow, his surprise was both less and more mortifying than that.

He still wore his usual black clothes, but there was a new accessory he styled himself with. On top of his head sat two white, fluffy ears. You stared at them in disbelief.

“Tada!” He posed like he just unveiled something.

You got up.

“I’m leaving.”

He was in front of you in a flash, reaching the door before you could. A nervous smile spread across his face as he tried to usher you back inside. You’d never seen him look so unsure before, it almost caught you off guard. With those fake cat ears on he looked even more ridiculous.

“Just hear me out for a second.” He tried to say. You glowered at him, but you relented, flopping back down to the couch.

“Think of it as a therapy exercise,” he finally suggested

“A therapy exercise,” you repeated, incredibly suspicious.

He nodded before sitting himself in the space next to you.

“Studies have shown that petting animals reduces stress in humans and all that, right?” Satoru pondered, but a part of you wondered if he was pulling all this out of his ass. “Since we don’t have a cat right now, well…this is the next best thing!”

You stared at him, wondering if he truly thought you were this stupid. His glasses were off, abandoned back in his bedroom, so the blue of his eyes could stare right into you.

“Try it!” Satoru suggested, tilting his head down to show off his new ears.

Well, Satoru has always been a bit weird, right? He was strange, constantly blabbering about things that never made sense, but he was harmless. From the short time you knew him, he’d never revealed himself to be anything but that.

You sighed, but you reached up and gently patted his ears, hoping that would be the end of it.

They were softer than they looked. Almost delicate in nature. The fur was clearly fake but it was smooth and silky and the blooming pink hidden underneath the fur of the ears had such a deep resemblance to your own lost kitty.

“There.” You told him as you pulled away, albeit a bit reluctantly.. “Is our therapy session over?”

“Not yet.” He cheerfully replied. “We got movies too! You’ll love this one! It’s about a cat who wastes all his previous eight lives, and now he’s on his ninth and…”

You tuned out of his rambles, already knowing how this night will end. Truthfully, you didn’t mind a movie night with Satoru. He was fun to hang out with. Maybe a movie night would be good for you–it would cheer you up.

You thought it had to do with those eyes, mostly; they were why you were so agreeable to go along with his whims. A part of you thought he was well aware of your kryptonite, but you could never prove it.

An hour or so later, you were well into the movie when you glanced down at your lap. The setting changed. Satoru ordered pizza a while back and inhaled three whole slices before you finished even one. Half-finished cans of soda laid on the table. When the movie started, you and him sat at a respectable distance between each other.

Now, Satoru’s head settled on your lap with your hand absentmindedly drifting across his hair and faux ears.

The shade of the cat ears almost blended into ivory locks. His hair was soft, just as silky and smooth as that stupid prop he still wore. You wondered what products he used, if he used any at all when Satoru caught you looking at him.

He blinked slowly at you, like he’s fighting off sleep. Ivory, white lashes fluttered closed to meet the rounded parts of his cheeks before that brilliant blue spilled out open all over again. It was something Snowbell used to do. Once, you looked it up and discovered it was a way cats showed silent affection towards their owners.

You smiled. Satoru caught it.

“What?” He questioned.

You shook your head even before your mouth opened up.

“Do you remember the night we met?” You asked as the movie faded into the background.

He nodded and you wondered if he thought of the same night you were–the night when you were cold and wet and miserable and Satoru was a stranger holding out your phone with a smile you couldn’t decipher.

“It’s really strange.” You admitted. “You pop out of nowhere. You know my favorite foods–you know things I didn’t even know about myself. You’re always there when I need you the most.”

Your voice trailed off to a whisper when he rose up to meet you. He was so close and you realized just how many colors his eyes have. Colors you’ve named before: deep navy, rolling cobalt, the softest sapphire, the brightest tanzanite.

He looked into your eyes, too, and you wondered if he did the same thing you did.

“I’m good at reading people.” His voice was equally low and hushed.

“Are you?” You asked.

He tilted his head.

“Am I?” He repeated.

It’s like the world around you disappeared. The TV, Satoru’s living room, the bustling city, faded into irrelevance the longer you stared at him.

“There’s something about you.” You continued because there was nothing left to say. “I think I’ve felt it since the day we met, but I don’t think I could internalize it until now but there’s something familiar about you. I…”

‘I know I’m going insane, but I think you might be my cat.’

The words sat on your tongue, but you couldn’t bear to say it. It was all so ridiculous even as this full grown man sat in front of you wearing cat ears looking at you like you were everything in this universe. You wanted to laugh. Then, you wanted to cry. So much happened in just days and yet nothing happened either.

You were not sure who leaned in first, but neither of you pulled away.

His lips were soft. It was like his hair but a different texture. They were plump and full of life and adoration as he kissed you. A hand reached up to grab your cheek, holding you in place as he continued to kiss you.

You sighed into his mouth and Satoru stopped kissing you and started to eat you whole.

He pressed you into the sofa and you went down with a small ‘omph’ that he swallowed up too. Greedy, was the only word you thought as he kissed you again and again. He wanted it all, and he wouldn’t stop until he got it.

He only stopped when your head was spinning and you gave a low whine. Even then, he pulled away with such reluctance you could still taste it lingering on your teeth.

You were panting, heavy and needy and hot all over. He barely looked affected. His expression was oddly blank, like he was dazed. You would’ve believed he thought nothing of the kiss had it not been for the tight way he still held you, like he was terrified you’d disappear if he wasn’t constantly holding on. That, and the–

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Yeah?” You breathed. Your eyes trailed down to watch his Adam apple bob with anticipation.

The longing in his voice, it almost matched the intensity of his mouth. He burned so hot, you should have been afraid he’d burn you.

Instead, you reached up to pet the fluffy ears that rested just on his head. He shivered, eyes closing in a way you swore he could feel your fingers tickle the fur.

The slightest of smiles tugged at your lips. A tease.

“What else were you waiting for, pretty kitty?”

His eyes sharpened, there’s the softest hitch in his breath before he was on you all over again.

Rougher, pressing into you like he wanted to imprint his pattern all over your body so you could never forget his space and shape. Teeth that might have been fangs tugged at your lips as his fingers played with the hem of your shirt.

You shuddered as his long, lithe fingers crawled underneath your shirt, pushing it up and over your chest. The fabric pooled around your neck, proudly showcasing your tits, barely covered by the flimsy bra he was clearly eager to rip off.

His hands were cold as they pressed against your feverish skin. You felt goosebumps rise at just his touch as he reached for your bra to feel your tits. The fabric fell away and left you bare and utterly vulnerable to him.

He cursed, barely pulling back from devouring your lips to glance down at his unveiled treasure. Fingers tapped at your chest, eager to explore.

“Can I…?” He asked like you’d say no him–like you ever could.

Your nipples were hard and tender to the touch. A whine left your throat when he gripped them, squeezing at your supple flesh. It almost felt perverted and lingered on desperation.

“You’re so soft.” His tone almost made you laugh. It was like he could hardly believe it himself, needing to touch you more in order to truly prove that fact of the world.

You want to say something teasing when his mouth is dropping down again to lavish your jaw, trailing all the way to your neck and chest. He mapped your body with his lips and tongue before they finally landed on his prize.

“Satoru..” You could only sigh because he was barely touching you and you already felt everything. You relaxed against the pillows and the leather fabric, completely giving yourself to him. Heat pooled at your core as you twitched underneath him.

“Hm?” He asked, still lapping away at your skin. “It hurts, baby? Want me to make it better?”

He swirled his tongue over your nipples, flicking over them like he’s teasing the flesh. Eventually, he couldn’t help himself anymore. He took your entire nipple into his mouth, groaning as he did so, his voice vibrating your skin.

You felt like you were on fire, and yet, it was not enough. Your body was sparking and bursting into flames as you reached up to grab Satoru’s hair, keeping him there as he nuzzled and adored your tits. He’d barely done anything and you already felt like you were high. Your head was up in the clouds as he continued to ravish you.

“Satoru.”

Your voice was pitchy and drowned in want.

“Please please please.” You begged, uncaring to anything else. “Need you.”

He lifted himself from your chest with a loud, debaucherous pop. Your chest bounced lightly with the movement, nipples shiny and perky from his actions. You could already feel the ache on your skin. You were going to wake up tomorrow with marks all over you–you just knew it.

“Yeah?” He asked. His eyes were darker now, twinged with a type of hunger that should have scared you. His cheeks were flushed, dappled with the prettiest red you’d ever seen.

“Need me?” He repeated, hovering closer to your mouth, just inches away.

You nodded. His mouth curled.

“Gotta’ use your words. C’mon, you can do it.” He goaded, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. You heard the condescension in his voice. In any other scenario, you might’ve just rolled your eyes. In this one, you wiggled your hips, helpless.

“Need you, please, Satoru,” you told him, “need you deep in–in my pussy.”

He shuddered at your words. There was the tiniest breath, a sigh of excitement, before he was pulling away to curl up at your hips. Eager hands gripped at your flesh, pulling down your shorts with a practiced ease.

“Oh, anything for you,” he said as he pulled apart your thighs to look at your vulnerable flesh.

“Anything.”

You were almost embarrassed at the way he looked at you. He practically drooled, licking his lips like he was trying to taste your heated scent. You expected him to rip off your panties the way he was clearly dying to, but instead he spread your thighs wider to lick up a stripe at your inner thigh. You jolted at the hint of teeth so close to your cunt.

“Bad kitty.” You tried to scold but it came out more like a whine. “Kitties don’t bite.”

“This one does.” He purred into your skin before biting you once more.

Just when you were about to complain again, he finally decided to put his mouth to proper use. Satoru eased off your panties, dragging them down your shaking thighs. He didn’t get them all the way off, like he did with the rest of your clothes. Instead, they tangled up your legs, leaving you completely exposed.

He took his prize like a vulture, swooping down to your cunt. His long tongue licked up and down the entire length of your pussy. Words melted back into your tongue as he worked your wet slit.

“Oh.” You sighed as Satoru’s head disappeared in between your thighs.

You thought he was saying something back. Something rested in his voice as he lapped deeply into your cunt lips–a dark tone you can’t place. You didn’t care. It didn’t matter as your thighs tightened around his head, like you wanted to keep him trapped there forever.

“Satoru.” You barely managed out as he licked the nub of your clit, lightly suckling on it as you felt a wave of tremendous pleasure roll down your back.

“Feel good, gorgeous? Don’t be shy, lemme hear you.” He said, his voice slightly muffled as he continued to eat you out.

As though to coax more sounds from your lips, his fingers delved into your pussy lips to rub slow circles onto your clit as his tongue entered your walls. You give him what he wanted, arching your back as your voice got louder and louder. You could hear the debaucherous slick sounds emanating from his mouth licking away at you. They were barely covered by your own moans of pleasure.

“That’s it. Fuck.” He hissed into your trembling thighs as you felt yourself tense up.

“You sound so cute when you feel good.” Satoru purred. “I’m so glad I’m the one who made you feel like this. All for me.”

You barely registered the darkness in his words. At some point, your legs were propped up on either side of his shoulders. Your fingers fisted into his hair, coaxing him deeper into your wet, needy heat. Satoru barely needed the extra encouragement, eating your pussy like it was all he was made for–like he’d die if he did anything else.

Your whines crested into something else. Satoru picked up on it, eagerly moving forward and picking up his pace as your pussy walls trembled from the constant attention he gave you.

“Gonna come for me?” He pressed. “S’ okay. Let go, gorgeous. You can do it. Just a bit more–”

Your back arched, but Satoru anchored your hips, keeping you in place as your orgasm rushed through you. It was the strongest you’d ever come, wave after wave of pleasure fizzed up your toes as they flexed and curled to assuage the intensity.

Satoru kept going until your body flopped down, exhausted by his ministrations. Even then, he only pulled away when your whines turned into pathetic begs of ‘too much’. You watched him rise from in between your legs with bleary eyes. He wiped away his mouth with the back of his hand, never taking his eyes off you.

You must have looked like a mess as you lied there, breathless. He wasn’t much better. His cheeks were dappled in pinks and red as his blue eyes simmered with ocean foam.

“Come here.” Your arms felt like cement but you reached up anyway, caressing his hot skin, coaxing him down. He followed like he was leashed, tethered to your fingers, crashing his lips onto your own.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, sour and sweet. You wondered what he was tasting as he ate your pussy, absolutely relentless. It felt like he’d happily suffocate in between your thighs, lapping away at your folds for the rest of eternity.

That didn’t sound too bad. A part of you hungered to push his head down to your clit again, let him worship your cunt in waves of ecstasy.

But another part of you felt something hot and heavy rest at your thigh, barely obscured by the denim of his jeans.

“Was I good?” He asked between feverish kisses, bringing you back to him.

“Mmh,” you agreed as his teeth nibbled on your bottom lip. “You were so good,” It’s all you could say, mind muddled and soupy by the orgasm.

Satoru moved down, lavishing your jaw and upper throat in kisses.

“Such a good boy–good little kitty.” He practically melted at your words, whining at your throat as you stroked his hair and fluffy ears.

“Yeah?” He asked, lips pulling away from your collarbone.

You nodded. “The best boy.” You continued as you wiggled your hips with need. “But Satoru–”

“I know.” He pulled away, and you mourned his warmth before you saw the way he straddled you as he fiddled with his belt.

“I’m hurtin’ too, gorgeous. Waited months for this.” Months? But hadn’t you met Satoru five weeks ago?

You ignored every alarm bell ringing in your head just in time to see his cock bob between his strong thighs. He looked painfully hard. Precum leaked from a mushroom-shaped tip as his cock touched your bare thigh.

Your mouth watered.

“Ready, baby?” That growl in his voice was back again as he leaned over, chest hovered above your own.

You never broke eye-contact as you licked your lips. You could still taste remnants of him in your mouth.

“Fuck me, Satoru.”

His eyes flashed. He was going to ruin you. You couldn’t care less. You wanted him to.

His cock slipped through your folds, teasing at your clit, still wet from him earlier. Your eyes rolled back into your skull at the first press of him at your battered pussy. You hissed at the same time he did, but you still managed to keep your eyes on him, wanting to admire what you did to him.

His expression was almost pained as he eased himself deeper into your cunt. His eyebrows were pinched together, and his jaw was clenched like he was physically holding back from crying out at the mere touch of your warmth. It looked like he was doing everything he could to stop himself from coming the moment he entered your pussy. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore, collapsing into your shoulder to whine at your shoulder.

“I–I can’t do it.” He whined but you could still feel his cock stretching out your hole. “You’re so warm and tight. Feels like–like I’m home.” He babbled.

You tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled moan.

“Don’t say stupid”-- You barely stifled a moan as he pushed himself deeper inside you–”things like that.”

He bottomed out with a stuttered gasp, clinging onto you like you were his lifeline. You’d never felt more full in your entire life. He pressed all the way into your womb. If you looked down, you were half-afraid you’d see his cock imprint itself onto your belly.

“Fuck.” Satoru hissed in your ear. “Look at you. You’re…you’re a perfect fit.”

If you could speak, you might’ve agreed. His cock stretched you out oh so nicely, each curve nestled into the deepest, wettest part of you. A spit of precum dribbled out of your stuffed hole, lecherously coating your pussy lips.

“You okay?” Satoru asked when you shuddered underneath him.

You nodded, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

“Can I move?”

“Please.” Your voice was soft and keening. “Please, please move, ‘toru–”

“Shit, quit that.” He lightly berated. “I’m tryna hold back but your voice drives me crazy…moving, so hold on, gorgeous.”

You moved on instinct, rather than on his order. A particular thrust left you gasping, making you reach up and cling onto his smooth nape. Satoru barely flinched at you clawing at him, curling his lips as he continued to stuff you full.

The way he fucked you was messy, bordering on desperation as he drilled you into the couch. The stretch against your walls left you breathless and panting for more. The cool air of Satoru’s apartment felt like aloe against your heated skin as he picked up the pace, filling you up with his cock over and over again.

“Shit. You feel like heaven.” He said through gritted teeth. “You’re squeezing me so good–do you feel good? Am I making you feel good?” It didn’t even feel like dirty talk. It felt like he was genuinely asking, scarfing down any lick of praise as he continued to drill you against the sofa.

Your pussy spasmed around his cock, bearing down on him like you never wanted to let him go. Your thighs were painfully clenched as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. A hand dropped down from Satoru’s neck to your clit.

Before you could relieve the pressure, Satoru snatched it up. He grabbed your wrists holding them above your head. He reached down with his other, circling your clit with his thumb and turning your head into mush all over again.

“Oh, yes,” your eyes rolled up as his cock pistoned into you. “Satoru its–its–”

“I know, baby.” Satoru lowered himself so his cock hit something deep and spongy inside of you. “Just gotta hold on a bit more. I’ll take care of you.”

Something rumbled in his throat. It almost sounded like he was purring as he rutted into you, and maybe that should have been your final sign, but you could hardly care less as you creamed around his cock. Your mind floated as he fucked you the way he wanted to, the way you begged him too. It was an endless build up that seemed to last for centuries.

Your orgasm hit the minute he slammed his cock into that spot all the way inside of you, rolling away at your clit at the same time. Your back arched as you came around his thick cock. Your pussy milked him for all its worth, gushing around him as Satoru staggered and swayed above you.

He didn’t last all that long after. There was a feral snarl before his cum sprayed all the way inside your womb. There was so much of it. Some dribbled out of your sore pussy all over your cunt lips.

Minutes later, when you barely put yourself together after that mind-numbing orgasm, you could still feel Satoru deep inside you. His head settled into the crook of your neck as he tried to regain his breath. You felt butterfly kisses across your skin as he lavished you in exhausted affection.

You stopped him when he tried to pull out, using the last bit of your strength to cinch your legs around his waist.

“Stay,” you mumbled, “‘feels nice.”

He smiled against your neck. You felt his arms wrap around your waist as he laid down with you. The couch was probably a snug fit considering how tall Satoru was, but you could hardly care less.

“Yeah?”

You hummed. You thought he said something else but you were too tired to care. Nestled in the arms of a man who fucked you silly was a good position to pass out in.

Just before you fell asleep, you noticed the funniest thing.

Between the pussy eating and the rapid fucking, those stupid, fluffy ears still remained on top Satoru’ head.

🐾

You woke up to sore legs and an aching body.

Your stiff limbs complained whenever you moved. Blearily, you opened your eyes. Sunlight poured in through a window. It was late-morning, at the very least.

Your environment also changed. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep next to Satoru’s warm chest on his sofa. Now the only thing you felt below you was a springy mattress and fluffy pillows. You laid naked underneath a bulky blanket.

Satoru was nowhere to be found, but the spot beside you was warm. Outside the room, you distantly heard a muffled phone call. Bits and pieces.

“Lost the curse user? That’s fine…got really curious about the…nah, it was my fault for getting caught up in that…yeah, I guess things mostly worked out…should thank him, honestly–”

You must have dozed off. When you opened your eyes again, Satoru was underneath the sheets with you. He watched you with a strange smile on his face, propping his chin up with his hand. His white hair was tousled like he’d never left. He was shirtless, proudly showing his bare skin when the light marks you left on him. With slight disappointment, you noted his cat ears were gone.

“What?” He asked, noticing your souring mood.

You scowled and turned away from him.

“You bit me,” you said, pulling an excuse out of the air. “‘Can’t believe you did that. Get out. I’m banning you from the bed.” You lightly nudged him with your foot.

Neither of you acknowledged that it was his bed in his apartment. Instead, Satoru whined, slumping over you in a bear hug.

“I’m sorry!” He kissed your shoulder, lightly licking over a mark he made the night before. “Please forgive me!” He caught onto your smile. “You’re into groveling? I’ll keep that in mind for next time–”

“Shut up.” You lightly scolded, but you sank into his hold regardless.

“Can I use your shower?” You asked after a few minutes of cuddling. As much as you liked this moment, your skin still felt clammy from last night.

“I can draw us a bath.” Satoru rubbed his cheek against yours with a satisfied sigh. “I got lavender scented bubbles and everything.”

“That sounds nice.” You nodded, but neither of you moved.

He practically invited himself into your shower time, but you didn’t mind. It was a little cute how eager he was. Or maybe that was just you missing every sign in the book. After all, this guy spent weeks and weeks helping you skulk around outside searching for your cat. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so surprised he was this forward.

Speaking of your cat….

“Satoru?” You called.

There was a hum against your skin as his head buried into the crook of your neck.

“I don’t think I need to worry about Snowbell anymore.” You tell him. “I…think he’s fine. Wherever he is.”

“Yeah.” Satoru said in this voice that you couldn’t read. “Wherever he is.”

You needed to shower, but he was so warm and the bed was so soft and perfect. You couldn’t help but drift off again, letting Satoru cling onto you. Distantly, you wondered maybe….

“jesus christ,” he heaves, catching his breath. “yeah sure.”

he shoots you one glance, eyeing your casual outfit, before moving to grab you a cup in their only available size. you stand quietly, hand briefly coming up to suppress a yawn. it’s silent. just the quiet actions of the worker.

he places the drink in front of you, turning the small screen for you to pay. but you just pull out a twenty, before pointing to one of the posters they’re showing in their three theaters. “and one ticket.”

choso hums, rubbing his eye as he includes that in the total, printing out your ticket.

“anything else?”

you shake your head for half a second, grabbing your drink and ticket, then heading to theater two.

he muttered a good night once the film ended and you were leaving. you barely offered him a polite wave in return.

that was the first time you met choso, but you didn’t know that was his name until the third week you came. you point to your chest.

“shouldn’t you guys have name tags?” you ask as he fills your cup with your usual blue raspberry slushy.

“lost mine,” he mutters, placing the drink on the counter, eyes clearly bloodshot and lidded. “my name’s choso if ya need anything,” he rings your drink and ticket up, turning the screen.

then his brows crease briefly, eyes snapping up to you, almost like he finally processed your question again before he starts sputtering, “don’t report me though, if that’s why you wanted to know my name. I don’t even smoke in the theater, it’s just a vape.”

and that was the first time he saw you smile.

your eyes gleam with a little mischief and amusement, taking your drink and ticket without uttering a single word.

choso worked at the small local movie theater every summer and winter break. primarily to get away from his nagging dad asking him about his future, as if he’s convinced choso actually attends all his classes and isn’t moving around pot for extra cash. and also to get away from his uncle who’s doing god knows what with megumi’s dad.

either way, the theater job was chill. the owner was his gramps and he let’s choso handle practically everything, and lately choso’s found himself looking forward to seeing you come in multiple times a week so he’s taken up more shifts.

sometimes he would casually stand at the front of the theater when it was empty, which it usually was, and smoke a joint. his dark bloodshot eyes shining when he’d see you cross the street.

the hot summer sun was beating down on you, your cropped top was stuck to your body like a second skin, hips swaying in your jeans.

“fuck,” he exhales lowly. your chest gleaming from the sweat.

you wipe your forehead, slightly out of breath as you shoot him one single glance, smiling to yourself once he follows you inside like a lost puppy.

“were you running?” choso coughs, putting out his joint, and picking up his pace as you reach the counter.

you nod, “yeah, was at the old diner a few blocks away with my friends,” your shirt was pretty low cut, desperately controlling his eyes from wandering as he grabbed a cup and went to the slushy machine.

“friends?”

“yeah from high school and stuff. we usually jus’ hangout in the summer since we all go to different schools now,” your tone is so easy and light, choso always feels like he’s floating when you speak. or it could be because of the weed he just smoked. either way, every time you come in now, he feels it’s less and less awkward talking to you.

“so why’d you rush here?” he casually asks, placing the slushy in front of you, hands leaning over the counter. you were shorter than him, but you still carried yourself high which had lately started to make him fantasize about things.

you glance between his sunken eyes, chest still coming down from the light jog you had. “I always come around this time,” was the explanation you’d give him. but deep down, choso was praying you’d say it was because of him. still, you point to another old movie that’s playing and finally disappear into the theater.

it wasn’t until a few weeks later, and the fourth of july rolled around.

surprisingly, the owner kept the theater open, and choso would rather smoke on the job, than get caught by his dad or uncle back home so he took the shift. however, the last thing choso was expecting when he was walking absentmindedly in the theater as fireworks went off outside, was for someone to walk in.

and that someone being you.

“you guys really stay open,” you smile, something you’ve started doing more with him. choso’s red eyes widen, heart palpating at the sight.

you were fucking breathtaking.

his mind was so high in the clouds he couldn’t control it anymore, his eyes immediately wandering down. his ears burn red, eyeing the short short skirt you’re wearing, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. even the half-zipped sweater you’re wearing barely covered your top which was a red bikini top that hugged your breasts as they bounced lightly. “choso?”

his eyes quickly snap to your face, cheeks aflame as he stutters out a reply, “yeah, uh—you wanna watch something?”

choso swallows thickly glancing down at your chest again as you walk up to him, fingers at the hem of your sweater, fixing up the zipper before slowly pulling it up. “someone told me,” you stop in front of him, big seductive eyes batting up at the stoner, “that there’s a better view of the fireworks, from this roof.” your finger points up.

it takes a moment for choso to register your words, his eyes now glancing at your glossy lips, beyond tempted to brush his thumb across it. “someone told you?” he repeats, brain still processing as you hum. suddenly his eyes snap to yours, wide and alert, “wait I said that!”

your lip tugs up, laughing softly, and it feels like a shot of dopamine was just injected into his veins. “you said I should come see the fireworks from here. did you forget?”

choso gulps, remembering now, how could he forget. maybe because he thought there was no way you’d ever come. which is ridiculous considering you’ve been coming every week since the start of summer. but it was the fourth of july you had to have been doing something before this to be dressed like that.

“choso?”

the stoner blinks, electing a light giggle from you which sends him into orbit, but he manages to push his hair back, biceps flexing in his old tee shirt, catching you by surprise.

“shit, yeah—here follow me.”

choso felt like he was floating the second his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you further into the theater all the way into the back. the marijuana in his system easing his nerves as he led you up to the second floor. completely unaware how flustered you’d suddenly gotten.

your heart was racing at the sudden contact, his hand warm, cheeks hot as you glanced at it wrapped around your smaller wrist. your chest heats up as you notice the veins that run up his forearm. the tee he was wearing was much more firm fitted than his usual oversized ones, which extenuated his broad back.

“woah,” you exhale.

“huh?” choso glances over his shoulder, catching you by surprise. “did ya say something?”

you swallow thickly, shaking your head. his lips part before closing into a tight lipped awkward smile, turning. you’re so hot. you watch him reach the ladder in the back room on the second floor.

“lemme just unlock the hatch first,” he says, letting go of your hand to climb the ladder. your fingers loosely wrap around one of the bottom steps as he reaches the top. he digs his hand in his pocket grabbing the set of keys.

maybe this wasn’t the best spot to stand because now your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you watch the, once, chill slightly dorky movie theater worker reach both arms over his head, his shirt riding up and exposing a sliver of skin, along with the few hairs that peak out of his black Calvin Klein boxers and loose jeans. oh fuck, you can see his defined v-line—

“there we go!” choso smiles, pushing the hatch up hearing it bang and the lights shine in the night sky in the distance. choso hooks the keys back on his belt loop as he climbs to the top, hand stretched out for you.

damn, your heart is thudding against your chest as you reach the top. his shockingly muscular arm flexes once your small one falls in his palm feeling a second wave of heat flood your body. you were so consumed by how flustered you’re suddenly getting that you miss a ladder step and slip—

“woah! careful,” his arm catches the edge of the latch, holding your bicep with his other hand. “grab the ladder,” but before you could even find your footing again, he’s lifting you higher. your body weight seemed like nothing to him. you’re halfway out of the hatch when you’re finally able to stand on the final step. “you okay?” he’s heaving lightly, hand falling from your bicep to your waist, brows creased and eyes still bloodshot.

this is bad.

your name leaves his soft voice again, a tinge of concern in his eyes when he notices you staring off. “a-are you high too?” he cuts again, finally able to shake you back to reality.

“no, I’m fine. thanks,” you gently pat his shoulder as a thank you, the action filled with timid awkwardness, nothing like how you usually were.

his brow raises, glancing at your sudden attitude change. are you acting differently?

you wet your lips, crossing your arms feeling slightly more self conscious as you walk further away from the hatch you came out of. choso is not far behind, dusting his jeans and stepping up beside you, hand digging in his pockets for another joint.

“wait,” he puts the joint in his mouth, then stands behind you. both his hands come up to your arms as he walks backwards. completely unaware of the shock his touch sends throughout your body, even over the sweater! your heart hammers louder, mouth dry as you try to look over your shoulder. “yeah, here. now look up.” he unconsciously squeezes your arms, nodding his chin up, hands sliding off you to grab his lighter.

your face burns, mouth going dry as you watch the theater worker casually light his joint, jaw flexing at the action as he inhales.

his dark black lashes flutter as the smoke fills his lungs and dulls his senses. he looks so effortlessly pretty….it felt like this is the first time you were seeing him. like you hadn’t realized the first fifty times you came to the theater that he was actually pretty attractive. or that his lips were a pretty pink as he exhaled the smoke. or that he was taller than you, of course you knew that, but your body didn’t fully sink that fact in until now.

“you sure you’re not high?” choso cuts, glancing down at you seeing you still staring at him.

your eyes widen, glancing away. “no, not high.” choso’s hums, shoving one hand in his pocket as he stands beside you, both of you silently waiting. as for choso, the joint from earlier had loosely dulled his anxious heart, but he could still feel the heat creeping up his neck. your body heat so close to his arm, occasionally glancing down at you. eyes flicking over your breasts, then face, then back down.

“where were you before this?” choso breaks the silence.

you glance down at yourself then up at him. “there was a fourth of july party at my friends beach house.”

choso hums, “sounds fun.”

you nod, “yeah. it was fun.”

another sound leaves the man’s lips, rocking on his heels, keeping the conversation going as best as he can. “how come you never bring one of your friends to the movies with you?”

a silent beat passes.

choso looks back at you, your smile no longer playing on your glossy kissable lips. the joint slowly burns between his fingers, heart picking up at your silence.

“was that tmi?” he quickly cuts, salvaging the moment, no filter whatsoever.

your fingers lazily play with the zipper on your sweater, shaking your head. “no…I just like watching movies alone,” you shrug, “all my friends talk through the whole thing anyways.”

“ahhh yeah, that’s like super annoying,” choso nods in agreement, earning a soft giggle from you. “watching movies alone is such a vibe.” you hum again, smiling.

another beat of silence follows, but luckily the second round of fireworks begin. you and choso simultaneously tilt your heads up, faces illuminated by the lights.

“woah,” you both exhale. choso snorts, taking another hit before passing it over to you. you glance at the joint, leaning forward. “oh,” choso blushes, bringing the joint up to your pretty lips, watching you closely as you wrap your lips where his once were, and inhaling.

you can still hear your heart racing behind your ears.

your fingers lightly brush his wrist, before pulling back. you do your best to hold in the smoke, then exhaling, onto for a throaty cough to come out.

“shit,” choso bursts out laughing, softly patting your back. you flush deeply, still coughing as you hear the man laugh a little louder at how flustered you are.

to think you were this nonchalant regular that would give him attitude, and finding out you’re just as awkward as him. well maybe he’s still the weird one, but it was cute seeing you struggle to take another hit to prove some stupid thing to him. so he holds the joint for you again, letting you hit and you do better this time. eyeing him down as if you really showed him.

“cute,” he mutters.

flustered by his comment, you distract yourself, and move a step forward before squatting carefully to sit on the roof. however, when you start to lean backwards—

“what’re you doing!” choso suddenly lurches forward, stopping you from laying down with a hand on your head.

your brows fly up, “I’m just laying down??”

“this roof is dirty as shit!” choso scrambles, looking around for god knows what. you’re still looking at him, even more confused. why is he suddenly freaking out? “here!” he resolves the problem the only way he knows how.

his arm comes over his head, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking the material off.

“what the—“ your cheeks sting, eyes bulging wide at the sight of choso completely shirtless. what the fuck! your brain short circuits. he was built! his abs were defined, and his arms are huge. he’s literally the definition of sleeper build. and is that a “tattoo?”

choso was bent down, laying his shirt behind you, catching a glimpse at the large tattoo on his back. “huh—“ he glances up catching your eye as he looks over his shoulder, almost like he forgot he had a giant tattoo on his sculpted back. “oh yeah, cool right?” he smiles widely.

how can he be so hot and dorky at the same time?! you internally scream, because now you’re just nodding, too flustered to respond.

“my dad fucking killed me when he found out. here lay down,” he pats his shirt, then crawls beside you and lays down.

now the two of you, side by side, stare up the flashing lights, and distant laughs and cheers from the town, everyone’s eyes were up. and then you realize…

“I was gonna put my hood on, you know…so like…you didn’t have to take your shirt off, dude.”

a beat.

choso’s ears are a bright red, then you feel him turn his head to you.

you do the same.

and the deadpan look on the man’s face had you sucking in your lips, holding back a horrible laugh.

“well…” was all he could respond with.

your lips curve into a smile as the sound of your laugh bursts out and fills his ears. your eyes close laughing harder when he tries to keep that deadpan look, especially with how bloodshot his eyes were, he was not fully present.

but eventually, he gives in. laughing with a touch of embarrassment, grumbling under his breath, before nudging you with his muscular arm. “it’s summer so it’s not that crazy,” he huffs.

you laugh again, but make him feel better with an encouraging nod. “for sure. I’m wearing a bikini under here so I can’t really say anything,” but you still laugh at him.

“yeah whatever,” choso sarcastically snorts, but then his eyes fall to your bent knees, your beach skirt exposing more flesh as it rests on your waist. you couldn’t stop laughing, hand on your stomach as you lean towards him, leg touching his waist.

“sorry sorry,” you wave, “just the face you pulled was crazy.” you slowly come down, stomach hurting from how much you’d been laughing. unaware of the warm palm resting on your thigh now, until you feel the light caresses of a foreign touch.

“my bad for tryna be a gentleman,” he mutters, tone laced with amusement, but his eyes were slightly lidded. gaze locked on your face, brushing his calloused palm over the surface of your thigh.

your heart skips a beat. skin breaking out into goosebumps. how did we get here?

the bursts of fireworks fall quiet, senses focused on him and his heavy breathing. his dark orbs glance over your lips. face inching closer. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating louder, not when you feel his warm breath fanning across your face now. is going to kiss you? please please let him kiss you.

similar to you, choso couldn’t not keep his heart from pounding in his ears. palms turning clammy, the sudden confidence, slowly sinking now that he’s so close. fuck—

“is it—“

his words are cut by your lips. his gasp eaten by your hungry mouth as you swallow another whimper from him. your hand gently cups his jaw, lips molding against his, parting them to swipe your tongue across his.

“open,” your soft command, had a pathetic groan escaping the man’s throat.

your confidence was souring at his response. his hand squeezes your thigh, letting you hook your leg across his lap. sliding closer to him as the kiss deepens. neither of you could focus on anything else other than the touch and taste of each other.

you pull away, catching your breath as he pants, hand squeezing your waist under your sweater. “you’re so pretty,” he husks, cupping your head and pulling you back to his lips, taking control. the shift in dominance has a wave of heat pooling between your legs. pressing yourself against him, just to feel a hard tent.

choso swears under his breath as your leg shifts on his bulge. your name leaves his lips, jaw straining. “I needa sec…”

his breath is hot, swallowing another moan when you purposely shift again. blushing at the moan like whimper that leaves his mouth. your nails slide across his pecs, sending shivers down his spine, and blood to his crotch.

“seriously,” he squeezes your waist, groaning as you press your thigh firmly on the bulge, smiling at the twist in his expression.

your lips brush his lightly, smirk tugging at the corners, “is it okay if we keep going?”

choso freezes. his eyes are wide, completely out of his element, unable to react as he watches you climb on top of him. cheeks flushed as you settle back on the large bulge that tent his jeans up. your pretty hands fall on his warm chest, lashes fluttering down at him.

he must be dreaming right now.

the fireworks go off above you. the lights beaming in the night sky and illuminating your seductive silhouette. now this was the same girl that gave him teasing banter for the last month.

“choso?” you softly coo, hips slowly grinding down on his bulge, the friction of his jeans against your thin swim suit bottom had your stomach twisting in pleasure. “you still with me?”

an embarrassing noise leaves the stoner’s lips. his face turns a darker shade of red.

your lips part again, a gentle sigh of pleasure escaping. “do you like me, choso?”

the man finally is able to nod, followed by his hands on your thighs and waist again. you smile, leaning forward, lips hovering over his as you whisper softly, “I think I’m starting to like you too.”

all sanity flys out the window. his lips crash into yours, swallowing a gasp as your bodies mold perfectly. it was amusing to anyone else, the way two young adults, both playing at the timid confidence and flirting, making out heavily on the roof of a struggling movie theaters. desperately dry humping like your life depends on it.

“ngh fuck,” choso grunts, hips bucking as he pulls the zipper of your sweater off. his hand easily falls on your breast, groping the flesh. “this okay?” he asks, nibbling on your bottom lip. however, he doesn’t wait for a response before pulling your bikini top down exposing your tits to the warm summer air.

“choso,” you whine, jaw slacking as he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking like he’s been deprived of water. he moans around the bud, hand falling to grab your ass, rocking you more.

the air grew thicker around you. his bare chest was burning under your palm, his heart racing as you continued grinding your clothed pussy on his jeans, unaware that the material has been sliding to the side, allowing your arousal to stain his pants. the two of you were possessed. his teeth tugged on your nipple, eyes flicking up to catch your pretty face twist in pleasure, jaw going slack as you began shivering.

“y’ look like you’re gonna cum?” he mutters, tongue swirling around your nipple like a lollipop.

an incoherent whine leaves your lips, unable to speak when you’re so close.

“fuck, you’re gonna cum now. yeah—haah gonna cum just from humping me?” he’s both amused and so unbelievably turned on. his cock was leaking desperately in his boxers, jaw clenched when your humping grew sloppier, pretty lashes fluttering. “shit…” choso groans as he watches you come undone. your luminous eyes are glossed over, jaw slack with a silent oh escaping your lips.

your thighs tremble around his waist, back curving forward, cumming from just a measly dry hump session.

you bury your face in the man’s neck, completely embarrassed. did you seriously just cum? the heat spreads up your neck, to the tips of your ears. however, a deep voice suddenly breaks your anxious heart.

“that was really fucking…hot.”

your heart clenches.

“you feel good?” choso is completely unaware of your reserved reaction to what had just happened. his words just spew from his lips without a second thought. it was usually how he spoke to you before, but in this setting, it brought you more comfort than you were willing to admit you needed.

your lips turn to the shell of his ear, arms wrapped around his neck, and lowly replying, “yeah.”

the slight rasp in your tone sent shivers down the man’s spine, his cock twitching in its confines, hips pushing up. his hand slides to your ass, biting his lip as he grabs a handful of your cheek. the other brushed along your spine under your sweater.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” he starts, face turning to nudge you up, a lopsided grin plays on his lips as you hover close to him. “but I’m really fuckin’ hard.”

you swallow thickly, cheeks burning hot, his lips brush yours again, kissing your bottom lip. his sudden switch between submission and soft dominance left you spinning. now you’re wondering how big he is. especially when you start to sit up, shuffling further down his lap so you’re straddling his thighs.

“I’m gonna….” you trail off, wetting your lips as you start to unbuckle his belt, heart racing as you eye the light hairs that grow darker the lower you go.

choso is in a similar position, possibly worse since he’s rethinking you taking his cock out. his heart is racing, praying the moment you wrap your hand around him he doesn’t cum.

choso doesn’t sleep around — he has slept with the occasional clients back in university, but he definitely doesn’t compare to the fuck boys in the frats. but to say, even with those experiences, watching you unzip his jeans, still two layers over his bare cock, was the most exhilarating feeling ever.

you flush as you thumb his boxers, hooking your fingers around them before—

“what the fuck are you doing on the roof!”

a loud yelp escapes your mouth as you duck to the side of choso, covering yourself from the stranger’s head popping out of the hatch.

choso immediately sits up, turning around in fury, hands coming to his pants.

the low whistle sends even more heat bursting through you and choso, followed by the stranger’s boisterous laugh. “ah ya took her to the spot. told ya this always gets em in.”

your heart stops.

“shut up,” choso snaps. fully sat and reaching to help you fix yourself. however, you immediately brush his hands off, zipping your sweater on your own.

what did that guy mean by this always gets them?

“can you give us a sec?” choso huffs, the stranger was now standing on the roof beside the hatch, hands in his pockets and lit cigarette in his mouth.

“ya left the theater unlocked, you’re lucky it was me and not the old man that came around,” the man tilts his chin to the fireworks still in the sky. “plus i wanted to see the view,” he smirks, sharp crimson eyes skimming your figure.

you brush your skirt off, skeptically glancing at the man as you and choso stand.

“yeah whatever,” choso huffs, cheeks burning red as he faces you, away from the man as he tries to hide his obvious boner.

“who is that?” you glance over choso’s shoulder, the man was still smiling wickedly.

choso tsks at the question. he does his best with his bulge before turning around.

“that’s my uncle ryo.”

uncle? your heart speeds up, so it definitely wasn’t some joke then. why would he say this always gets them?? your mind starts spiraling, hands getting clammy as you glance at his uncle again, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes as you follow choso to the hatch.

“sorry to breakup the lovemaking,” his uncle adds.

you reach the latch when choso is suddenly stopped by the older man, his hand catching his shoulder, turning choso to face him.

“dude,” choso tilts his face away, knowing exactly what’s about to happen, but his uncle holds him still either way.

“how fucked up are you?”

choso’s tsks, jaw clenching, “jus’ smoked like two joints, I’m fine.”

sukuna eye’s narrow at his nephew, letting go. “I won’t tell ye’r dad—“

“yeah, I know. you owe me—“

“cut the shit,” his uncle snaps, pointing at him, “walk home. leave the car.”

choso waves him off in disinterest, turning back towards the hatch when—you’re gone.

his sweat turns cold, quickly racing down the ladder, sharp eyes catching a familiar raven haired man at the bottom. of course his uncle and toji are about to do some shady ass shit now. choso brushes it off and quickly jogs down to the lobby catching your pretty skirt exiting the front doors.

“wait!—“ choso calls your name, sprinting out and catching your wrist with a firm, gentle grasp.

your heart lurches in your throat, stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot. he’s panting beside you, dirty t-shirt thrown over his shoulder. the fireworks were still going off, and the streets were filled with teenagers and young adults running around with sparklers and making bad decisions.

“I’m really sorry about my uncle. i didn’t know he’d come by—“

“s’ fine,” you cut in, unable to stomach a second thought about what his uncle had hinted at. “I’m gonna head home.”

choso can’t help the sudden jump in anxiety he’s feeling. did his uncle really mess things up with you for good? he treated you nicely though, does that not mean anything. choso swallows the lump in his throat, nodding his head, but instead of letting go of your wrist, you’re suddenly being pulled to his broad chest.

his muscular arms carefully wrap around your smaller form, hugging you close, eyes shut tight. “I’ll see you later…?”

choso’s question hangs in the humid summer air. his heart thumps louder the longer you’re silent, biceps twitching with nerves.

it was an unfamiliar experience. your skin was sticky with sweat, insides hollow and unsure, but your body moved before you can think too much. “yeah,” you quietly mutter, giving him a gentle hug back, allowing him to finally pull away from you.

the booms and cracks of the fireworks echoed through the alleys and streets, quietly rattling store windows as choso watched you disappear into the crowd. and the moment you left his sight, he definitely knew something was wrong.

his anxiety was only proven correct once the following week came around…

choso was sat at the counter, heart thumping loudly as he waited for your usual intimidating aroma to walk through the doors, monday afternoon. you’d be stoic, but the moment you asked for your blue raspberry slushy and he’d make some lazy comment, you’d grace him with your smile.

but you never came.

not monday, or tuesday, or wednesday, or that entire week. and with every passing day, choso grew more and more heartbroken and bitter. was it really because he tried to fuck you on the first night? you kissed him first!

“nah man, girls are just weird,” his close friend ino drags, the usual beanie still covering his light brown hair even in the summer heat. his arms were covered in grease stains, gloves resting on his lap.

choso frowns, joint still between his fingers as the two sit outside toji’s beachside car shop. “that’s not an explanation,” he huffs.

“well,” ino thinks some more, “did you say something wrong?”

“no,” choso’s leaning on his knees, fingers scratching his sharp jaw. “i said sorry because my uncle interrupted.”

“so she’s mad at sukuna?”

choso’s shakes his head, “but that doesn’t make any sense? why would she ignore me?”

suddenly a deep voice cuts behind them, “she looked heartbroken when i saw her running out.”

the two young adults turn their heads, toji was standing a few feet away clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. his white wife beater was covered in grease stains and sweat that trickles down his back and chest. the older man swiped his forehead with his arm.

“what’re you talking about?” choso’s brows pinch.

toji shrugs, wiping his hands with a rag, “the cutie on the roof with you last week. saw her climb down the ladder lookin’ devastated as shit.”

choso’s jaw clenches, “how do you know she was upset?”

the older man scoffs, wicked smirk on his lips, “i know when a woman is heartbroken.”

ino holds stifles a laugh, glancing at choso who doesn’t bother to question toji, he’s known him long enough to trust his instincts with women. however, this leave choso even more confused.

“so was she upset at uncle? or maybe that i made her vulnerable and he saw?”

“vuLnErable,” ino chuckles, just for choso to kick his friend.

toji shrugs, walking over, “could be.”

“or she’s a virgin!” ino shouts, solving mystery.

choso’s eyes widen, “a virgin?!!”

toji deadpans at the young men, “don’t listen to him,” he tosses his dirty rag at ino. “from what y’ said, i fuckin’ doubt she’s a virgin—“

“she’s not a slut!” choso defensively cuts.

toji rolls his eyes,” I didn’t say she was slut.” choso’s eyes are still aflame, standing his ground. toji sighs, “ino’s right.”

“for real?” the twenty-two year old smiles.

“women are confusin’, ya gotta talk to her and ask,” toji shrugs, like it’s that simple.

choso’s head falls forward, “she hasn’t been around the last week. that’s the whole point man!” he groans into his hands. “I thought you know women.”

toji snorts, leaning down to snatch the joint from choso, taking a drag. “I do if I’m with ‘em. I read body language, kid,” he winks.

ino laughs, while choso frowns, “her body language was that she came from dry humping me.”

toji exhales from his nose, laughing, “not just sex. general body language, facial expression, eye contact.”

“oh…”

toji takes one last drag before dropping the joint on the ground and putting it out.

“dude!”

“y’er dad’s comin’ to pick up his car,” toji nods towards ino, the kid sighs dabbing up choso before jogging back to the shop. “she’ll come.”

the week following your absence was worse than the one before. all choso could do was wait. wait until you finally come to theater so he can clear whatever miscommunication managed to happen without him even realizing. all of it was infuriating, especially because he didn’t have your number or any of your socials so it was impossible to contact you—

“one blue raspberry slushy.”

choso jumps so violently and inhaling like someone just unplugged him from the universe and plugged him back in at full voltage.

the vape he was twirling between his fingers clatters onto the counter. he hadn’t even seen you walk up, he was too busy having an out-of-body experience staring at the theater’s carpet pattern, convinced the swirls were breathing back at him.

but then you speak. and suddenly you’re there. right in front of him.

his soul launches into the astral plane for the second time tonight. “oh—” he chokes, jerking back so hard his elbows smack the slushy machine. his eyes shoot to you, wide and slightly bloodshot, like a startled cat who just saw god.

and god, apparently, looks like you.

after ten dry, agonizing, notification-less days, there you stand glowing in the neon reflection of the concessions menu like an angel descending from the heavens with a halo.

you’re an angel. a terrifying, sudden, beautiful angel who kissed and dry humped him days ago then vanished like a fucking heart stabbing tragedy. and then you just fucking walked in holding exact change.

“you scared the shit outta me,” he whispers, voice shaking, but there’s no real accusation in it, just awe. the kind that sounds a little like heartbreak and a lot like love.

you don’t grace him with a smile. your eyes don’t even meet his fully, only flick over his face briefly, then glancing at the three films playing, pointing to one.

choso’s heart beats erratically. palms clammy as he grabs your drink. you were wearing the same sweater you wore that night, but this time it was a cute spaghetti strap sundress that reached mid thigh underneath….are you gonna say anything? maybe something happened to you that’s why you didn’t show up…fuck no, toji already confirmed you were upset with him, or uncle ryo. fuck!

“can we talk about—“

you turn on your heel once he placed your drink and ticket down. disappearing into the theater.

“what the fuck?” choso’s insides twist into a fighting pit of anger and confusion. so you’re not even going to talk to him now? acting the same fucking way you did the first time you met??

his heart hammers against his chest with every passing minute. knee bouncing on the floor glancing at the theater door.

“fuck me—“

the stool slams back into the counter as choso rises. the adrenaline quietly pumps through his veins as he enters the theater, eyes scanning the room, before landing on your form two rows from the back.

it was the first time he left his position to see you. not counting the fourth of july.

“if you tell me what’s wrong or whatever, I’ll leave you alone,” choso whispers, not caring one bit that you’re trying to watch chungking express.

his jaw clenches at your silence, your legs crossed and hands holding your blue raspberry slushy, sucking the straw with a frown tugging at your brows. you’re definitely upset.

“is it about my uncle? I’m really sorry he walked in. for real, I had no idea he was coming,” choso whispers, heart beating quickly, desperately trying to remember the other things he wanted to say. “and I should’ve taken you on a date first, o-or just asked you out first. so I’m sorry for being douche and tryna fuck you—“

your head suddenly snaps to him, your lips blue. his breath catches, and his heart immediately sinks to his stomach at the sight of your glassy eyes glaring at him.

“I’m not mad that you wanted to fuck me, choso,” you whisper, chest rising in anger. “I’m mad that this how you fuck me.”

huh? choso shakes his head. “what’re you talking about??”

your jaw clenches, eyes narrowing at him, “how many times have you done this with other girls? it’s—“ your face contorts, “it’s disgusting.“

choso is even more lost than he was before.

your heart beats erratically in your chest, eyes wavering as you glance between his. the large theater screen the only source of light, as choso shifts closer to see your face.

“honestly, I’m sorry, but i have zero clue what the hell you’re talking about right now. what trick? I didn’t trick you?? and other girls. I’ve been bumming my whole summer in this theater??”

you frown, “I don’t need an explanation seriously,” you mutter turning back to the screen. “we’re not even a thing.”

“I want an explanation because I’m really lost here,” choso’s agitated voice irks you, throat drying as your eyes flick to him.

“your uncle said some bs about, this always gets them in, how else am I supposed to interpret that?”

your words suddenly clear the fog in chose’s mind. breaking the surface as he blinks with absolute annoyance.

“are you kidding me?” he whispers, voice low sending chills down your spine. you frown. “so you assumed he meant me?”

your eyes flick between his, “well…yeah.”

choso’s face is suddenly inches from you, his hot breath fanning over yours. “my uncle used to work here when he was in school. i’d mentioned you once to him and he told me about how he brought girls up here to watch the fireworks,” choso’s lips brush your ear, deep husky voice laced with inconvenience. “there were no list of girls. I already knew the view was good from there and invited you just for that.” your heart suddenly starts beating with anxiety, throat growing dry as he continues. “there was no master plan…my uncle’s jus’ a narcissistic dick and thinks he deserves credit for everything.”

choso’s lips brush the shell of your ear, his hand hesitantly touching your wrist. “I never took any girls up there. and you would’ve known all that if you just asked me to clarify.”

with a blink of an eye, you’re pushing his chest back, pretty eyes glowing up at him.

“really?”

choso immediately flushes, heart pounding out of his chest as his ears turn pink.

how are you able to go from zero to a hundred in seconds?

he’s left speechless by you’re shining orbs, nodding wordlessly.

then, straight out of his prayers, you finally grace his humble self with your warm, infectious smile.

“i—“ your words don’t come fast enough as you embrace the stoner. arms wrapped around his shoulder hugging him close. “I’m sorry.” your apology doesn’t even attempt to ease his racing heart. “I don’t know. I was being dramatic, but like we also don’t know each other that well anyways, so you can’t blame me for just yeah—“

“I wanna know you,” choso suddenly cuts, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“me too,” you smile bashfully, relieved he can’t see your face. “but you know what I mean…right, choso?”

his hands squeeze your torso, humming against your shoulder as he inhales your ocean-coconut scent. “so were you mad about what happened on the roof?” he can’t help but question, especially when your lips are ghosting over his ear now, sighing softly with a slight shake of your head.

“I wasn’t mad about that. it was all perfect until your uncle came,” you exhale, sending shivers down his spine.

the creaking and hushed whispers in the back barely concealed the truth behind what was unfolding.

his body is unable to stop himself from guiding you to his lap, lips ghosting over one another.

“so you wanted to have sex with me?” choso whispers, smile playing on your glossy lips.

“mmm…felt bad about leaving you unsatisfied like that,” your lips part along with his, your tongues connecting, just as his hand squeeze your waist with a pathetic whimper. he’s so quick to whine, it sends a flood of heat between your legs.

“you’re hard now,” you mutter, settling on his bulge for the second time.

choso swallows a moan, “can’t be surprised. got an angel devil on top of me.”

you’re heart skips a beat, lips crashing onto his. neither of you care that you’re in an empty theater, and the risk of anyone walking in was still high. your actions remained hushed, intimate.

choso was melting the second he had his hands on you. tongue tasting you the blue raspberry slushy on your tongue, unashamed by your smirk. “cho?” your fingers move between you, unbuckling his belt.

heat breaks out across his face, heart speeding. “you wanna?”

you nod, mischief gleaming under your lashes.

choso silently swears under his breath, biting his lip as he quietly helps you shimmy his jeans down, breath catching once you place your palm on his bulge. “feels big,” you mutter against his lips. his cheeks sting, cock twitching in his boxers. you continue groping and feeling him, smile playing on your lips as he whimpers.

“s-stop teasing,” his grip tightens on your waist, your sweater slipped off your shoulder.

“jus’ wanted to feel,” you coo lowly, licking his bottom lip like a seductress. you then gingerly thumb his waistband, slowly pulling it back and slipping your small cold hand inside. his entire body locks up once you grip his base, pulling him out. “oh.” you’re pleasantly surprised by the size in your hand. “it’s big.”

choso let’s out a shaky exhale, hips rising briefly once his cock touches the cool air. his pretty eyes flick up to you watching you spit in your hand, and slowly start working his cock.

“you’re not gonna cum in my hand, right?” you coo against his lips, back arches over him as you press your pretty breasts agaisnt his chest.

choso swallows a whine, shaking his head. “n-not even you don’t want me too.”

you smile adorably, like you didn’t have this man in the palm of your hand, “good boy.”

fuck.

choso’s head falls back, jaw slack with quiet moans as you jerk his thick cock. his abs clench every time your thumb swipes his tip. tapping the crown like a devil. “d-don’t,” he whimpers.

“but it looks so pretty, cho,” you whisper, kissing his lips. he only whines in reply, kissing you back with more fever. jaw slacking and tongue pushing into your mouth desperate for the taste of the blue raspberry that’s stained your tongue.

it was easy for choso to get drunk of you, and he realizes that when he’s feeling his tip brush a wet soft flesh.

“oh fuck—“ he chokes, he pulls away briefly, gaze dropping to his lap to see his flushed cock rubbing your bare pussy. “wait,” his head snaps up to you, brows furrowed in worry. “is it not to big, I can stretch you out first?”

your fingers brush his jaw, tilting his head up as you kiss the corner of his mouth. your voices hushed, “s’ fine, I can take it.”

choso swallows thickly, hand finding purchase under your dress to grip your waist, and the other holding your ass as you slowly nudge his tip against your entrance.

“okay,” you exhale coolly, slowly sinking down.

“shit,” choso swears between clenched teeth. grip unforgiving as you gasp against him. your cute whimpers were the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. it felt like honey being dripped into his ear as you did your best to swallow his thick pulsing inches. “y’er squeezin me, r-relax baby.”

you whine quietly, gently moving up, just to push down again and take a few more inches. “bigger than I thought cho,” you pant.

his head tilts, capturing your lips, “sorry,” he apologizes, and it actually sounds like he’s sorry for how big he is, especially when you let out another adorable whimper.

but still, he kisses you like it’s the first time he’s ever been intimate with someone. and after a few more shallow bounces, you finally settle every big chubby inch of him inside your gummy walls.

“fuh—you feel so good,” he mutters, “feel so good wrapped around my cock,” your tongues collide as you start grinding against him. hips rocking slowly, as you adjust to his impressive size.

your hearts beat together. breaths colliding as the world slowly disappears, likes it just you two quietly moaning and whining on a theater seat. the creaking and quiet squelches that left your pussy with every bounce didn’t register in your ears. instead your focus remained on one another.

on his voice. your gasps. his curses. your coos.

“I feel so full, choso haah,” you babble, lips glossy from his spit. “d-do you feel me to anh too?”

choso whimpers as you clamp around him as you sink down again. his fingers dig into your ass the other fully wrapped around your waist, biceps flexing around your back. “course I do,” he grunts, bitting your bottom lip. moaning once you drool into his mouth.

nothing else mattered now.

his thick thighs part. his hips angle up, and his firmly plant themselves on the ground. “c’mon, keep riding my cock princess,” choso moans agaisnt your lips. his hips snap up getting you to pick up the speed.

you gasp in surprise, cheeks flushed, sweater falling at your elbows, and the straps of your dress starting to slip of your shoulders as you fix your feet to rest over his knees for better balance. “o-okay choso,” you hold his shoulders as you start picking up the speed.

neither of you could think about the sounds of your ass clapping against his thighs, or the whines that left both your pathetic mouths.

choso kept your pace, helping you bounce your pretty ass up n down his cock like one of his toys. and with every bounce, your pretty breasts followed, until one strap fell low enough for it to expose you to him.

“haah fuck,” choso groans, lips wrapping around your nipple sucking immediately.

“ahh,” you clamp around him, whining. he only moans around you, humming as your nails comb through his hair.

you were lucky you were the only one in the theater, because now it was obvious what was happening. the creaking, the clapping, the moans. it was beyond lewd, and obscene.

“m gonna cum cho,” you whine, bouncing quicker as you chase that coil twisting in your tummy. his flushed tip continues hitting your sweet spot, dragging against your gummy walls with each bounce.

“fuhck—fuck I’m close, keep movin’” he huffs, drooling against your chest as he kisses up your sternum to your neck, panting harshly as he bucks his hips as you start to grow sloppy. “don’t sto—ah-p—“

“I can’t—angh—“ your vision turns white, drool escaping your lips as you fall apart, creaming around the stoner.

choso swears, arms holding you desperately to his chest as he starts pumping his messy cock into your weeping hole. “fuck—tight pussy, melting inside ya—haah—“ his thighs start trembling, muscles flexing underneath you as his head falls on your shoulder.

“so good baaby…ngh haah god—“ his own climax hits him like a truck. the words fall off his tongue and pull out flashes in his mind, but the searing white that blinds him leaves him frozen inside your deep warmth.

“chosoo,” you whine into his neck as the thick ropes of white cum fill your insides.

the stoner pathetically whimpers, hips still bucking as he milks every last drop, emptying his balls, hand wrapped around your nape as the other squeezes around your waist under your dress.

“fhuck,” choso pants, chest heaving as he slowly comes down, lips parting as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your exposed shoulder. trailing them up your neck. “beautiful,” kiss, “so sweet.” his hums and sighs left shivers down your spine as you stroke his long hair. scratching his nape as your lashes flutter.

that’s when a loud whistle cuts the air.

you freeze hugging the man desperately as he lifts your strap up. neither of you realizing the movie had ended.

“y’er shameless, kid. your daddy would be disappointed ya turned out like me.”

a vein pops from choso’s neck.

“dude, what the fuck?” choso groans, hand coming up to fix your sweater on your shoulders again at sukuna laughs beside the door.

“I’m not the one fucking in a public space—“

“fuck off,” choso swears under his breath, choking quietly as he pulls out, electing the softest whimper from your lips. “sorry,” he mutters.

“why is he still here?” you whisper, fixing your dress as you stand up, glancing at his uncle still beside the door, choso quickly tucks himself ignoring the stickiness of your mixed juices.

“because he’s a dick,” choso tsks, leading the way out.

sukuna smirks, eyeing his nephew, “all good?”

“you need the space again” choso holds your hand this time, glaring at his uncle,

sukuna exits first, revealing another man standing beside the door. “something like that. don’t tell your gramps.”

choso hums digging for the theaters keys in his pocket, “don’t tell him about today then,” he tosses the set,

“I don’t talk to that old man anyways,” sukuna catches them. “take the girl out for dinner, can’t just keep fucking her here.”

“dude!”

you glare at the uncle making him smirk wider, shooting you a wink.

choso leads you to the exit as you hold his arm, “your uncle is weird,” you grumble.

“yeah, sorry ‘bout him,” choso catches toji, accepting the wink he gives the kid before exiting the theater. “but uh—you down for dinner—on me?”

you smile, lips still stained blue, “yup. and we needa get plan-b.”

“oh shit!”

“got outta the gym late. lost track of time,” he walks two steps to the kitchen pulling out two energy drinks, a protein drink, and a couple protein bars. “fuck,” he cups his crotch, palming himself through his low hanging sweats. he opens his shake. “accidentally swiped on that video ya’ sent me from the summer. I watched the whole thing between my sets.” his hand tips back, throat bopping as he chugs the shake, eyes closing as he sees the video play back in his mind, hand still on his bulge.

you’re leaning against the column between your smaller than small living room and kitchen, eyeing the way he’s shamelessly groping himself in front of you, men. you sigh, internally.

“hey,” he suddenly appears in front of you, towering. his musky scent fills your nose as he cups your neck, the other resting on your hip. he slowly lowers himself, tilting your chin up with a thumb as his lips connect with yours again. “haah,” he sighs, kissing your lips like it’s his saving grace, his sweats hang low on his hips as he presses himself against you. “remember that video?” he husks, “the one with ya’ spreading your legs out for the camera—“

you gently press a hand to his chest again, cheeks flushed, but stomach churning uncomfortably. “ryo—“

“wanna see this pussy,” he doesn’t even hesitate, he drops his head to your neck, kissing the exposed skin before dropping to a knee, hands on your hips. “wanna smell how good she is—“

“ryo,” you press a hand to his forehead, face aflame, as you push him back. your heart hammers as he frowns up at you, jaw tight and hands tightening around your waist. “I got my period yesterday.”

….

a silent beat passes.

then.

FUCK!

sukuna is horrible at controlling his face.

you immediately notice his dilated pupils dissipate, and the excitement die behind his eyes. your lips purse, making a my bad king type of face. but sukuna looks absolutely destroyed, his head drops forward, desperately trying to control his eye roll, but you catch it , along with the way he presses his face into your stomach, and groans. loud. uncontrolled.

“sorry…I forgot to text you, and you came all the way here,” you pat his shoulder apologetically, though you’re not super sympathetic since it’s not your fault.

“ya’ have cramps or some shit?” he grumbles against your sleep shirt.

“had crazy cramps this morning, but just like…not in the mood right now,” you cringe while saying it, but sukuna just sighs.

you bite your cheek as you watch him sit back on his heels. his black sweats straining against his thighs, his bulge shameless as it presses up against the material. your eyes flick over him again, wetting your lip as you reach for his hair. hesitant. but eventually…your manicured nails run through the slightly damp, salmon colored hair. you watch in silent awe as his lashes weigh down, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back. your nails scratch his scalp, lightly, but enough to elect a raw groan from the back of his throat.

you bite your lip, eyeing the dark flush crawling up his neck, and dusting his cheeks a light pink. his large palm rests on your outer thigh and the other flexing as it grips his erection. how far will he—

“not cumming in my fucking sweats,” he suddenly barks, getting to his feet. your hand drops as he walks towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head, he kicks the door shut behind him.

your lips purse again, biting your cheek as you hear the shower turn on. men.

that was how sukuna dealt with his fuck buddy being on her period. somehow always finding out last minute that you’re bleeding, and in no mood for action — except for those very rare occasions, well he can’t divulge too much now since you never want him to mention it again — and he’s forced to take care of his problem in your shower. his rough calloused palm — a contrast from your soft smaller ones — jerks his painfully hard throbbing cock to the images of you floating in his mind until he’s finally shooting his thick white load all over your shower wall. haze clearing up as he watches the cum slide down. and then he’ll step out of the bathroom, usually wearing a pair of sweats he’d forgotten here, along with a plain black tee, and crash on the couch as you do your homework. he’ll eye you a bit, but eventually shift his attention to the tv and knockout.

it would be difficult for those five to seven days, especially when you would be slightly more clipped with him, or just plain bitchy and short tempered (like him). but it’d get him all hot and bothered, especially since he can’t act on it.

that was sukuna’s perception of a woman’s cycle. before he never cared, now he cares just a little more because he can’t have sex with you when you’re on your period.

but as smart as sukuna is, it takes a little more brain power for him to realize what this is.

this being, how he’s wound up because he’s trying to get through this studying for an upcoming exam. he’s far from prepared for and the best way for him to study is to be around someone who takes it seriously— you. and yet…

and yet, you won’t stop moving!

at first you were sitting across from him in the library. then you shift to the seat at corner of the table, and then you move to sit directly beside him.

“you need help?” he suddenly cuts. you’re shifting beside him stops, brows pulled in confusion.

“was just uncomfortable, am i disturbing you?”

his brow twitches, but you were completely innocent. your brow pulled up, like he’s the crazy one, and not you, who’s moved around like ten times in the last hour!!

“just a little,” he mutters, putting his headphones back on and turning back to his work. luckily, you seem to have settled down, attention back on your own studies. engrossed in your review sheets and notes, as sukuna reviews for his own exam.

however, what the fratboy did notice was even when shoko stopped bye to chat, and utahime came to whisper some gossip to you between her class, you didn’t move once. his brow quirked briefly when utahime chatted across the table, and instead of getting up and going to the hallway to talk freely, you remain seated, right beside him, and right against him.

what’s going on?

“I swear I told the girl I didn’t even know who she was talking about it—but she didn’t even care. girl! I wasn’t talking to your ex,” utahime rambles in hushed whispers, similar to the whispered conversations at other tables.

your brows furrow in shock, “what the hell?? why the heck is she even confronting you in the middle of class though? that’s so weird.”

“that’s what I’m sayinggg!!!”

sukuna has every reason to snap at you both right now. to tell you two to shut the fuck up or go outside. seriously, it was distracting as fuck. but his mind was short circuiting and stumbling around all because of how fucking close you are to him.

his arms are leaning over the table, biceps bulging from his tshirt, scribbling practice equations and notes. and you’re leaning over in an identical position, but your side is fully pressed against his arm. your zip up hoodie resting around your hips after you’d shrugged it off, and your usual cold skin was searing hot against his. skin to skin. and it’s been like that for the past twenty minutes.

usually when your friends stop by to ramble you have the curiosity to step away so he can study. but not this time— well you did a similar thing a month ago too. sticking to him like glue. brushing your fingers over the veins of his forearm—

“okay, I’ll update you later, but thanks for letting me borrow your airpods!” utahime concludes her rant with finally returning your airpods and running off to her next class. sukuna lets out an air of relief, relaxing beside you.

finally, some peace and quiet in the library.

…shift…

well, it could only last so long.

his brows furrow as he glances over at you, your cheek is now resting on his arm, mindlessly reading your notes like this is normal. is it because he’s finally anxious about an exam after so long, that he’s noticing how touchy you’re being? or maybe you’re not in the mood to do your work and in the mood for something else—

tch, he doesn’t have time to find some room to fuck you in though. it’s the middle of the day and the library is packed. the last thing you’d want is for someone to see you both. however, he can’t even tell if you want any action right now. it just looks like you’re tired…and clingy…?

sukuna exhales, thumb pressing against his jaw in thought, while you shift again, oblivious to his internal turmoil, cheek smushed against his arm…

“you hungry?” he interrupts, desperate for his mind to quiet down.

“not really,” you mutter, focused on your homework.

his lips downturn, pen tapping the desk, “I’m gonna grab another celsius.” he suddenly stands, startling you for a moment, noticing the way your pretty lashes blink in surprise. you’re definitely just focused on school…but last month you were acting the same-ish…if he’s right, then when he comes back…you’ll…

he places a celsius in front of you, eyes flicking over you as he sips his drink. you hum in distracted appreciation, like you can’t even see him sliding back into his seat, legs spread, and arms coming up back to the table to grab his pen. but like glue, you’re sliding yourself right beside him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, and taking a subtle inhale.

what the hell?!? it’s like he can predict you’re every move now?!

it didn’t stop there. the puzzle pieces are starting to come together slowly. especially when you subtly kept a grip on his arm muttering how he can finish studying at your place, without the distraction of the frat—which you rarely pressure him to do a night before an exam. except instead of going straight to the bathroom to shower, you followed him to your couch and sat beside him.

“do you mind if I turn on the tv?” you ask with such an unnerving amount of gentleness, glancing at him with your full undivided attention.

his brow quirks, why’re you looking at him like that? “it’s your place, woman.”

you hum, relaxing back, albeit pressed to his side and your knees tucked up, as he leans over on the coffee table (aka your only desk in your small ass apartment) reviewing more work. but just moments later he’s sliding to the floor for more comfortability—

“why’d you move?” your voice cuts through the quiet apartment.

“huh?”

sukuna glances back, brow quirked with confusion at the frown you’re wearing. “leaning over is fucking with my back,” he tsks, earning him an uncharacteristically quick attitude switch from you — your eyes roll, your entire body slumps further back on the couch that you’re basically laying across it, and your cute bottom lip juts out in an irritated, subtle pout. seriously? sukuna scoffs internally. you’re acting like such a brat??? for real this time.

your cheeks press against the cushion. your hypnotizing eyes flick between his, then eventually settle on his lips. they’re slightly chapped, pink…pretty…kissable…

“ya need something?” he snaps without any bite. you’re zoning out again. your eyes drift off, and your lips part lost in thought. “zoning out—“ are the words that you here before you feel an aggressive (light in his mind) flick to your forehead. “again!”

“ow!” you groan loud, face quickly turning and pressing into the cushion in annoyance. “what the hell!” your muffled yell barely comes out.

“what the hell me?” he tsks, rough hand landing on your head, and turning your face back for air. “I was talking and you did that shit again—“

“what thing?!” you scoff, brows pinched in anger as you stare into his eyes….his deep…dark…lidded…crimson eyes…..haah—

“that,” he exhales, hand softening on your temple, and irritation slipping away with your usual antics. “how do you even zone out that fast?”

your glossy lips part, manicured nail brushing your bottom lip, heat pooling between your legs, and eyes half lidded… “was thinking about your eyes.”

the softness of your tone was more shocking than the actual words that came out of your mouth. or it was the combination of both. or the bluntness of your gentle honey sweet voice that took sukuna by surprise…

but he blinked. once. twice—

“first it was your lips,” you whisper with a breathless sigh. your finger carefully reaching out and touching his lips. you mimic the way he parts his lips with your own. his thick brows creating a shadow over his lidded eyes. “then your eyes.” you explain with such clarity, it had sukuna short circuiting as he tries to rationalize why you’re acting this way—

“that’s why i zoned out,” you conclude, shifting closer to the edge of the couch, closer to him. your eyes dot up at him, brushing his bottom lip, pulling it down with a thumb. “you distract me sometimes.” you’re tired…it was a long day of classes and it was the middle of the week. that has to be the reason, sukuna thinks.

by now, he knows that look.

you wanna fuck.

“Mmm,” you whine the moment he presses his lips to yours. your tongue immediately finding his as your nails course through his hair. tugging. “make me cum, ryo.”

he snorts in your mouth, rough hand pushing your shirt up, thumbing your bra before hooking his thumb under and lifting up. “should’ve just told me ya want your pussy wet—“

“it’s already wet,” you cut, “been wet all day.”

shiit, he groans into your lips, pushing his hand down, past your waistband. “fucking slut.” a breathy gasp slips out as he cups your wet sticky pussy. “fucking drenched, dirty brat.” his teeth sink into your bottom lip as you whine louder, unaware how sukuna’s neck is unbelievably red. why do you taste sweeter?

“Mmm lift your hips up,” he husks. you don’t get the chance to react when he’s suddenly yanking your pants and drenched panties off. “spread ‘em.”

your tongue pokes your bottom lip, opening your legs for your fuck buddy. his huge palms press against your thighs, grabbing fistfuls and licking his bottom lip as your sticky pussy comes into view. his pupils dilate as he watches your hole twitch. and your scent immediately hits his nose. “you’re gonna taste so good today.” he mutters to himself, but your brow lifts.

“what’s different about today?”

he leans forward, eyes flicking up as he exhales. is he drunk? his eyes roll back, cock throbbing in his pants and he inhales again—fuuck, you smell so much sweeter, “nothin.” his tongue shuts you right up as he licks a long wet lewd strip up your folds. your back immediately arches off the couch, nails digging into his scalp as his beefy arms lock around your thighs, moaning. your sweet honey floods his taste buds…this pussy has always hypnotized him, aroma consuming him and taste intoxicating him…but now that he thinks about…this small little difference in taste and scent, a bit sweeter, happened last month—

“ryo—haah ah mmh ya like my pussy?” your eyes flutter as you keep them on sukuna’s flushed face.

his eyes roll back, completely falling apart between your thighs as he groans a deep husky, “fuck yeah.”

your stomach burns hot at his voice, and voice pitching higher as his tongue delves inside your hole. “haaaah—your mouth is so good, baby—ngh been wet all day,” you confess in your pleasure. “was staring at your hands all day, ryo—they’re so big…l-like your di—ahh—“ fuck you’re talking a lot, sukuna groans, annoyed how worked up your voice is getting him.

his tongue laps and sucks, his salvia creating an even bigger mess. he pulls away, cheeks dusted a deep red as he spits directly onto your puffy clit, pupils dilating as he spreads the mess all over your swollen clit. “these hands,” he runs his calloused palm over your lower stomach. your pupils grow black with lust. pupils blown as you stare at the way his hand encompasses the entire surface. his crimson irises dilate once he sees the lust all over your face. “want them inside ya?”

you nod, immediately.

he doesn’t wait.

two long, thick fingers push past the initial tightness, feeling the gummy walls of your pussy hug his digits with delight. your jaw falls slack, drool slipping as he leans down to plant wet kisses along your lower stomach, forearms and biceps flexing as he pistons his fingers in n out. the squelching fills his ears as you moan above him.

“ngh! fuh ryo, feels good, kiss—kiss me down there—“ you push his head down until his lips connect with your clit again, sucking. rough. mean. teeth sinking just hard enough to make your eyes water and a choked cry slip your lips. “ryo,” you mewl with such lewd sweetness that this huge 6’5 hunk is practically moaning in response. “ry—my pussy—ahh gun —mmm c-close—gun cum—“

but sukuna has already lost all sanity with how good your slick tastes. his eyes roll back pushing you over the edge. “mmm fuck!” you cry, lashes wet as they flutter from the pleasure coursing out of you. his throat bops swallowing and lapping your sweet slick like it’s a drug — which it might as well be with the way his cock is throbbing in his boxers just from eating his fuck buddy’s sweet pussy. “taste like fucking honey,” he groans, cleaning you up like a dog. he pants, catching his breath as he climbs up to your lips like a starved animal. he smashes his lips against you, kissing your spit slicked lips with a loud groan. how do your lips taste sweet too?

“gonna be a good brat and let me fuck this tight pussy?” He grunts, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down along with his boxers, freeing his painfully erect cock.

your tongues collide, dumb whine coming from the back of your throat, and hands running up and locking around his neck. “f’course.”

fucking you rough and fast on the couch as you babbled like a dumb slut, drunk on his cock, had him seeing stars. he was desperately trying to figure out how you're handling him with how uncharacteristically rough he’s being, but you haven’t told him to stop.

"ry—aa-haah!"

shit. he'd flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips , ass in the air as he slams his thick throbbing cock in from behind. his rough palm is pressed into your lower back keeping you in that deep arch he loves, and hand cracking the nth spank to your sore ass. "feel good?"

"so good ryo—wanna cum again -cum-ngh haah please please-"

unbelievable.

and it’s not until he’s panting on the couch, your limp body resting across it, completely and utterly spent, does he realize just how rough he was being. his jaw tenses, as the fog clears up.

“hey…” his voice treads lightly, cautious as he turns on the couch, glancing at your resting form. your shirt covers your breasts after he finally came and let you lay back on the couch. but his spend leaks out of your abused hole, and your ass is still burning from his mean spanks. “hey…” he leans over you, hand brushing your waist. grounding. “you okay?”

he watches carefully as you turn on your side, eyes heavy as you blink up at him. “yeah…you okay?”

“you okay with how we fucked?”

you don’t blink, “yeah.”

yeah, somethings up. he was rough, even he knows that much. and you took it well. more than well, you were begging for me.

all of those should’ve been signs. the closeness, the slight sweetness spike in your slick and saliva. how unbelievably heavenly you smell, all the time. how you didn’t mind how rough he was. but the cherry on top was the party friday.

the frat is lit up like a damn fever dream. neon strips line the railings, glow paint smeared across walls and skin, bass from the dj bleeding through the floors as the pool outside shimmers under colored lights. it’s packed, but not suffocating. invite-only for once. people actually have room to breathe, but it was mainly because they didn’t want any complaints so early in the semester.

sukuna is sat back on the patio couch, shirtless, skin still damp from the heat, a thin sheen of sweat catching the lights every time he moves, tattoos flexing over his well defined muscles. gojo was loud beside him, geto half-listening while scrolling on his phone, a couple other guys scattered around with some girls mingling between them. but sukuna isn’t paying attention to any of it.

he has a drink in his hand, untouched. his eyes keep drifting. back to you. somewhere near the edge of the pool, laughing at something utahime is saying, glowing under the neon like it was made for you. your bikini hugged your tits so well he’d pop a boner if he stares too hard. the droplets run down your soft skin, as he sees you fix your necklace as you say something to your friend.

he clicks his tongue, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “you ever notice they act different sometimes?” he mutters, low enough that it doesn’t carry past the music.

nanami, sitting beside him in swim shorts, thick legs spread open for all to eye and an open button up putting his defined abs on full display, along with the sneaky patch of blonde hair peaking out of his waistband, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “that’s a very broad statement.”

sukuna exhales through his nose. “nah, like—” he pauses, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to piece a puzzle together when he doesn’t have all the pieces yet. “it’s not random.”

nanami studies him for a second, then follows his line of sight, and finds you immediately. is he starting to realize his feelings for you?— “not random how?”

sukuna tilts his head, “just… different. clingier. or—” he gestures vaguely with his drink. “more into it.”

nanami raises a brow. “into what.”

sukuna gives him a look like don’t be fucking stupid.

nanami hums, finally catching on, taking a slow sip. “you’re asking if there’s a pattern to women’s behavior.”

“i’m saying there is one,” sukuna mutters aggressively. “i just don’t know what the hell it is.”

“you know,” nanami says calmly, “they have cycles.”

there’s a beat. then sukuna leans back, jaw ticking slightly, still watching you. “yeah I fucking know that,” he mutters. “It’s annoying.”

nanami glances at him again, lost. “what is.”

sukuna doesn’t answer right away. just takes another sip, eyes narrowing faintly. “the way it’s not consistent.”

nanami huffs quietly, amused now . “if you’re starting to notice now then it is consistent.”

sukuna side-eyes him. nanami is no better than gojo or geto, he’s just more subtle about his innuendos. “I’m not noticing shit—“

nanami shrugs, setting his glass down. unaware that gojo and geto have agreed on teams.

“okay! water volleyball!” gojo’s voice cuts clean through the bass, already halfway to the pool as he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night. a cheer ripples through the patio. of course it does. a house full of athletes, half-naked, girls in bikinis, a competition handed to them on a silver platter? yeah, they’re moving before the rules are even explained.

geto stretches his arms above his head as he stands, “hey! the love of god,” he mutters, loud enough for the frat president t to hear him, “try not to break anyone’s teeth this time.”

gojo laughs, already hopping to his side of the pool because obviously he’s one of the captains. “no promises.”

sukuna’s already up, taking the second captain title and just like that — whatever train of thought he was stuck on snaps clean in half. gone. replaced with something sharper, more familiar. his shoulders roll once, loose, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the space, the people already splitting into sides. his team or gojo’s team. they’re always on opposite teams. it makes it more fun.

“don’t get in my way,” he tosses to gojo as he steps around to his end of the pool, his hand brushing his stomach as he crack his neck.

“you wish,” gojo shoots back.

people start gathering, some hanging back to watch, others eager, slipping into the water, calling out sides, laughing as they pick teams. a younger pledge scrambles to the middle, already trying to take control after geto shoves him in to the play referee, whistle in hand like this is some official match.

and of course, even as chaos takes over the yard. your eyes find him. instinctive, like something in you locks in and refuses to look anywhere else.

sukuna stands at the edge, skin still glistening under the neon, muscles flexing lazily as he stretches his arm over his head. his back, his shoulders, the deep v- line that has your eyes following down to the tuft of light hair peaking out the same one you always find yourself caressing during foreplay— it’s too much. it’s always too much, but tonight it sits heavier in your chest, lower in your stomach, something warm and insistent that doesn’t let up between your legs.

your clit throbs.

“wait—” utahime grabs your wrist, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. “you hate this stuff.”

you don’t even look at her. “it’ll be fun,” you murmur, already pulling away. and then you’re moving. slipping from your seat on the edge of the pool and jumping in.

the water hits cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s been building under it. you swim to sukuna’s side, breath catching slightly as you orient yourself to the chaos around you, because normally, usually, a crowded sweaty pool was something you’d avoid, but—he’s already looking at you. your thighs press together.

his eyes are not casual, not passing, he’s looking. his gaze drops first. slow and deliberate, catching the faint mark on your neck, the one he left last night, barely visible under the colored lights. his jaw ticks. then lower, just for a second, the way your body shifts in the water, the ripple of movement as you steady yourself, the rise and fall of your breasts threatening to spill out. the water calmly rocks underneath them. then his gaze shifts back to your face, and you’re still staring at him. you’re not even trying to hide it.

something about that makes his brow twitch.

because you’re not looking away. not when he meets your eyes. not when the noise around you spikes, not when someone splashes too close. your focus stays locked, heavy, almost… expectant.

it lingers a second too long. then—

“teams set!” the pledge yells, blowing the whistle way too aggressively. “first to ten— no cheap shots—“ he glances around before catching geto lounged on the other side of the pool, some girl already pressed against his arm. “OH! no punches or choking!”

“shut up and start it,” gojo calls from the other side, already grinning, bouncing lightly in the water.

sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you for another beat. then he exhales through his nose, turning slightly, shoulders squaring as the ball is tossed into play and he’s in the pool.

the game starts rough. the second the ball is tossed, two guys are already lunging for it. water splashing high, bodies colliding mid-air before someone spikes it hard across the pool. girls moved out of the way, squealing as huge men fight. a chorus of shouts erupts from the sidelines, music still blasting behind it, neon lights flickers over wet skin and moving bodies.

gojo, the ever responsible fraternity president, grins like a man possessed on the other side. sukuna, the very responsible vice president, is barking like a mad man.

and of course, the competitive idiots fall into rhythm with each other. fast, aggressive, locked in, and every hit gets harder, a slightly more violent. every return is sharper and people start gathering closer to the edge, phones out, recording, yelling their names like it’s a real match instead of a drunk frat game.

“c’mon, kuna!” someone shouts.

“gojo! spike that shit!”

water slaps against tile. everything is moving fast, bodies move out of the way so they’re not hit by the aggressive spikes from the frat hosts. but they still refuse to leave the pool because it’s fun, messy, loud, and heated.

and then the ball comes your way. your eyes widen, barely able to think, so you just react. your hands come up, fingers pushing against it just right, and somehow, you’re sending it up in a clean arc, right to him.

sukuna moves instantly….he jumps, sculpted body cutting through the air, arm pulling back before he slams the ball down with violent force, sending it crashing into gojo’s side of the pool.

a winning point. a cheer explodes. and when he lands, water dripping down his shoulders, he glances at you, canines on display, as his deep voice cuts through the chaos to say, “good girl.” it’s low, automatic, and it slips out without thought, just like how he’d praise you when you’re alone, and his voice is raspy as he whispers it in your ear, cock usually deep in your guts as he gives you another mean thrust that you take with pride, pussy clamping when he bottoms.

something fast, hot, and dizzying rushes through you. your chest tightens, skin buzzing as your breath stutters for a second. your thighs press together instinctively under the water, pulse kicking up in a way that feels almost overwhelming. and from that moment on, you stick to him. you try to chase the ball for him, pushing it back into his reach every chance you get, doing your best to avoid the large men playing the game. but your focus narrows, locked in on your hot fuck buddy like nothing else exists. every movement feels sharper, more urgent, your body reacting before your brain can catch up.

on the sidelines, people notice. how can they not? most of the girls “playing” cling to the perimeter. and then there’s you, being an idiot, but a very hot one, throwing yourself in the middle. your bikini clings tight from the water, fabric hugging every curve, shifting every time you jump or twist. a few guys on the edge of the pool don’t even bother pretending they’re watching the game anymore. their eyes track you instead, murmurs passing between them. someone whistles when you jump to set the ball, breasts bouncing freely in the flimsy bikini top, your nipples hard underneath as water cascades like some playboy ad.

but sukuna, is too locked into the game to notice.

the first round ends with his team winning, and the second starts almost immediately, louder than before. people are picking sides now, chanting, recording, some still dancing on the grass behind them, focused on the dj, drinks sloshing as the party refuses to slow down around the chaos of the pool’s game.

you’re still right there again when it starts. you doubt you’re even playing anymore, but you wanted to see him, watch him jump high and spike the ball. watch the ink on his back ripple with his muscles. the same defined lines that you caress at night, and hug—

your attention is so narrowed, that you don’t even notice the guy at first. bodies are moving like a blur that you don’t focus on another moving behind you. until it’s too near, too familiar for someone you don’t know. then, a hand brushes your bare side under the water, lingering just a second too long making your blood run cold.

your eyes snap wide. “what the fuck!” you twist instantly, shoving him off hard, water splashing between you as your stomach turns. only a few people notice, the rest too consumed by the game until you’re moving straight towards a certain captain.

“THAT’S A FUCKING FOUL GOJO—what the—“

your arms wrap around him from behind without hesitation, pressing into him, chest flush against his back as you cling to one familiar form. tight, and instinctive.

it catches him off guard, just for a second. his body tenses slightly under your grip. his muscular arms lift, head turning halfway to see, “who the fuck—“ grabbed him in the middle of game! but then he sees you. and his eyes glance down at your familiar hands holding his chest. your name slips out of his lips, confused what you’re doing, but then the ball’s already back in play. and somehow he keeps going.

even with you wrapped around him, weight clinging to his back, he still moves, still blocks, still lands a hit that sends the ball flying back over the net. it’s messy now, uneven, but he’s too competitive to stop, jaw tight, focus split but still sharp. water splashes everywhere. people are yelling. gojo laughs from the other side. “what the hell is that— you got a handicap now?”

sukuna clicks his tongue, annoyed, shifting slightly to keep his balance with you still latched onto him. you don’t let go. not once. “you drunk?” he tries to talk to you mid-game.

“yeah,” you mutter over the music. but as more people fill the pool, and the third round feels much more chaotic, sukuna begins to notice. your grip tightens every time someone gets too close, every time someone accidentally touches you, every time your head spins just a little from the alcohol and the heat and everything. your cheek presses against his back, breath uneven, body still buzzing in a way you don’t fully understand, other than the fact that you can feel how hot it is between your legs. he smells so good…

the game drags on— until finally— gojo’s team takes the last point. a loud cheer erupts from his side, people splashing into the pool, celebrating, phones still up capturing everything.“told you,” gojo grins, pushing his wet snowy hair back, muscles flexing for the cameras as he sticks his tongue out.

sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, annoyed, shoulders tense— he doesn’t shake you off. but unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance.

you’re suddenly ripped away.

“wha—! what the fuck!” you yelp as a pair of hands grab you from underneath, a drunk junior dunking under the water before popping up with you lifted high onto his shoulders. just for the crowd to erupt.

“OH SHIT— chicken fight!”

“LET’S GO!”

“get her, get her!” other guys in the pool dunk under and lift a few laughing girls up. but you’re not one of them. your thighs clamp instinctively around the stranger’s head just to keep from slipping, heart racing, balance completely shot as water drips down your legs and chest. your hands fly to his hair, trying to steady yourself, panic flashing across your face. you didn’t agree to this. your eyes lock with sukuna immediately. wide. confused. he’s not your boyfriend— but he’s still…

something in him snaps. he straightens, fast. too fast. the playful edge from seconds ago gone completely, replaced with something sharp and violent, jaw tightening as his eyes drag over the way the guy’s hands are gripping your thighs— and the whistles from the crowd don’t help, especially when your hand reaches to adjust the way your bikini top had shifted.

“damn!”

sukuna’s fist curls. “get your fucking hands off her,” he bites out, already moving forward through the water, splashing hard as he closes the distance.

the guy just laughs, drunk, clueless and not listening. “relax, man, it’s just a chicken fight. ever heard of those?”

he doesn’t get to finish. sukuna’s already pulling his arm back, when you squeak.

“wait—!” you gasp, trying to shift your weight, panic spiking as the situation spirals way too fast—but before anything can land another pair of bodies crash into you. a second drunk chicken fight slams into your side, bodies colliding, completely losing balance. and then everything goes under. water rushes over your head in a blur of limbs and noise, the guy beneath you losing his footing as you both go down. you barely have time to register it before a hand grabs you. hard.

sukuna’s arm wraps tight around your waist, yanking you up and out of the water in one sharp motion. you cough, sputtering slightly, fingers clutching onto him as he steadies you against his side. he doesn’t even look at you at first. he’s glaring past you.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he snaps, voice low and dangerous, water dripping from his hair as he stares down the guy who just broke the surface, coughing. “you fucking grab girls without permission and I’m fucking snapping your arm in half!”

the junior lifts his hands, half-laughing, half-defensive. “yo, chill— it’s just a game—”

“i said don’t touch her,” sukuna cuts in, sharper this time, stepping forward like he’s ready to swing anyway.

the energy shifts instantly. people nearby start stepping in, hands coming up.

“aye, chill, chill—” one tries to come between them. sukuna doesn’t even notice that you’d managed to slip from his grip, still coughing as you swim to the steps of the pool, heart pounding as utahime, having seen the entire interaction helps you out.

“you okay?” she sits in front of you on the edge handing you water.

you nod, chugging half the bottle, before breathing again, “swallowed like…” you gag, “a disgusting amount of that pool water.” utahime cringes as she glances at the pool. the interaction growing even more heated, as a crowd watches sukuna curse out the junior.

“anyone else fucking grab a girl without her permission is getting fucking banned from this frat permanently!” sukuna shouts. murmurs break out across the crowd, a few glance towards you, as utahime notices, but you’re too busy washing your mouth out to care.

gojo’s aloof attitude steps in after coming back with a sweet juice in hand. “okay, okay, we’re clear on consent aren’t we guys?”

people hum, cheering for the games to continue. but then…

“didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

it lands this time, cutting through the noise and sticking just long enough for a few whistles and low laughs to ripple through the crowd. the kind of comment meant to poke, to stir, to see what the hot headed vp will do with it. but what’s worse is that a majority of the crowd has no clue what your relationship is with sukuna. aside from the frat members.

sukuna doesn’t even look at him, and he doesn’t correct it. it’s not because he wants to claim you. not because it’s true. but because it’s annoying—because explaining it, denying it, entertaining it at all feels like more effort than it’s worth. he’s your fuck buddy, he knows that, you know that, and thats all. his jaw tightens once, eyes already elsewhere, done with the conversation before it can grow legs because then he’ll really break his fucking arm.

the party moves on like it always does. music swells back up, as gojo and geto thank the heavens that sukuna was in a good mood before the argument that he wasn’t tempered to continue the fight. luckily the drinks are raised again. gojo’s already laughing, pulling attention away, and just like that the moment dissolves into noise.

sukuna’s focus shifts and lands on you.

you’re still on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, skin slick and glowing under the neon lights. your bikini clings tighter now, nipples pebbled under your soaked top, every curve on display, highlighted by the shadows of the lights above. it makes it impossible not to look. droplets trail down your thighs, catching the light as you tilt your head back slightly, still rinsing your mouth out, brows furrowed in clear disgust.

utahime sits in front of you, just as eye-catching to the hungry men around, her own bikini hugging her frame, water beading along her collarbones as she watches you with a mix of concern and amusement.

and people are staring. not subtle glances—staring like you’re something to watch. something to linger on. like the game earlier just shifted into something else entirely and now you’re part of it without agreeing. no wonder you hate these parties.

it irritates him, fast.

sukuna clicks his tongue under his breath and pushes forward through the water, tall enough that even standing in the pool, he closes the height between you easily. the neon catches on his skin too. his broad shoulders still damp, muscles flexing as he moves, water sliding down his torso in slow lines. he’s not unaware of the way people look at him either—girls nearby pausing mid-conversation, eyes dragging over him openly—but he doesn’t care. not right now. not when he reaches you.

his hand comes up without hesitation, settling on your exposed thigh where it hangs over the edge of the pool. his palm is warm even against your wet skin, fingers spreading slightly, firm enough to ground, possessive. the contact is immediate. deliberate.

the shift is noticeable. a couple of those lingering stares drop off instantly. only then does he look at you. his gaze flicks over your face, still a little flushed, still catching your breath, before settling. his gaze is steady, assessing the way your glossy lips part with an exhale after chugging an entire bottle of watet.

“you good?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher around the edges from the leftover tension. his thumb moves slightly against your skin without thinking, a small, absent motion that doesn’t match the sharpness in his expression.

utahime has to hold back an eye roll, especially when his gaze flicks over your face, then your lips. unbelievable. what’s with him? what’s stopping him from asking you out if he gets so hot headed and possessive—ughhh…utahime holds back her anger, because she was pissed when someone suddenly grabbed you and then had you dunked in the water. why does sukuna have to be so fucking weird though?! she internally curses out sukuan for being the person that always protects her best friend, but acts like a complete jerk another second.

“how much sweat did you drink?” sukuna asks, tone laced with amusement .

your eyes snap, face grimacing, “shut the fuck—up,” you gag again, hand coming up to your mouth just for utahime to snort and sukuna to bark with laughter.

“did i tell ya why we had to drain the pool last year—“ sukuna starts, utahime’s eyes widen.

“oh my god I remember!”

your face pales, nails digging into sukuna’s shoulder while the other still covers your mouth. “don’t you dare tell me.”

sukuna grimaces with an amused expression remembering what happened at last years pool party. but distracting you has somehow managed to isolate everything else around him and have his sole focus on the way you wipe your mouth with a napkin utahime — and now nanami and geto at her side — comes back with, and the way your fingers shift from his shoulder to his forearm resting across your damp lap. and the conversation flows afterwards.

gojo was still on the dance floor, completely in his own world, some girl is pressed to his side as neon lights strobe over him laughing, loud, untouchable in the way he always is. meanwhile, the edge of the pool has settled into something more intimate and funny. the conversations around overlap as you all joke loudly and throwing around slight bickering, cooling off from the chaos, but still very much alive.

and with all that, you hadn’t left. even after everything, you’re still sitting where you are, leg still dipped in the water, skin dewy under the lights, bikini keeping your pretty tits in view for a certain salmon haired man. your hair is slightly damp, pushed back from your face, exposing the curve of your neck—the faint mark sukuna left the night before still visible if someone looks close enough. and you smell heavenly. fuck if you’re alone, he’d bury his nose closer to your breasts to smell the sweat clinging.

but people are looking. they always are now.

they just don’t linger as long anymore. not with him there. sukuna leans into the edge of the pool, upper body braced beside you, his arm draped behind your back like it naturally falls there. his other hand rests lazily against your thigh, fingers tapping absently against your skin as he takes a sip from his beer. his shoulders are broad, still slick with water, veins visible along his arms as they flex with every small movement.

he looks just as much of a problem as ever. and the attention doesn’t stop, girls nearby still steal glances, whispers, watching the way he’s positioned so close to you, the way his hand hasn’t moved from your leg once. but what’s more interesting, is that you don’t move either.

you don’t push him off, don’t shift away. if anything, you lean just slightly into his space, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his forearm where it rests across your lap, like it’s second nature. you like it there.

and sukuna notices. of course he does, with how touchy and clingy you’ve been these past few days. yes, he’s shocked you haven’t left, or haven’t asked him to go upstairs with you. instead you’re being so uncharacteristically attached.

his gaze flicks down for a second, watching the way your fingers move against his skin, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, taking another sip like it didn’t just register. his stomach churns when you lean forward slapping nanami’s stretched out hand after he said something funny.

“why the fuck are you guys sitting here?” gojo’s voice cuts in suddenly, dripping with disbelief as he approaches, hair damp, grin lazy. he looks down at your little group, then at the pool like it personally offended him. “this is embarrassing.”

utahime snorts. “she almost drowned, idiot.”

“she’s alive,” gojo shrugs immediately, already grabbing a drink from someone nearby. “get in the hot tub. it’s waaaay better!”

a couple girls attached to him nod eagerly, already following his lead as he starts heading that way without waiting for an answer. utahime glances at you. “you wanna stay out or…?”

you don’t even hesitate as you hum, soft. “yeah, why not.”

sukuna catches it.

the group starts moving, the energy shifting with them as they make their way toward the hot tub. somewhere along the path, nanami and utahime get pulled into another conversation, stopping off to the side, leaving you and sukuna to keep going without them. your skin burns as sukuna keeps a subtle hand in your lower back, biting his lip when you reach the hot tub and you step in front of him. his gaze drops to the movement of your ass, your bikini was so skimpy it’s definitely clinging on to your pussy lips too. fuck,

by the time you step into the hot tub, the heat hits instantly. you sigh without meaning to, tension melting from your shoulders as the warmth wraps around you, soaking into your skin. your body relaxes almost immediately, the contrast from the cooler pool making everything feel heavier, slower.

sukuna steps in right after you. and immediately shoves two guys aside with a sharp nudge of his shoulder. “move.”

they do quickly without argument, clearly frat members. he settles in beside you, close again, like earlier, like he didn’t just create that space for you.

gojo drops in for half a second, splashing water everywhere before grimacing. “it’s too hot,” he complains, already climbing back out. “i need another drink.”

and just like that, he’s gone again. leaving you, sukuna, and the rest of the group laughing, talking. the conversation easy as the night keeps rolling around you. especially when geto comes back with some girls and red solo cups for beer pong.

“don’t spill any in the hot tub!” sukuna barks as the girls organize the cups in place on the edge. geto slides into the pool with the ping pong balls.

“shh shh i know,” he zips his friend up as he takes aim. and as the party is brought back to the hot tub, you’re all swept up again. and your eyes are following every movement of your friend beside you. the way he’s shouting and laughing with his frat brothers, the conversations turning to fog when sukuna flexes his large bicep, the ink that wraps around it highlights how big they are. you can’t even recall the context of this sudden flex off, but you’re not complaining.

you watch his throat bop as he throws back another cup of beer, standing beside geto. your eyes trail over his sculpted chest. you suck in your bottom lip as sukuna falls back beside you. his arm draped behind you along the edge of the hot tub, barking another laugh at some crap geto is spewing, completely distracted.

“I swear TO GOD, you told me to go for that dive!” geto throws his hands up, flabbergasted.

“nah nah nah—“ sukuna shouts over, shaking his head with an amused expression, “I told you—“

“nah—satoru!!” geto looks over his shoulder, waving down the president. “SATORU!”

gojo’s head whips around. however, the debate is the furthest thing from your mind, honestly you can’t even understand what these idiots are talking about. but— there’s one idiot that smells heavenly.

sukuna distracted, doesn’t notice how much closer you’re pressed to him, how your lashes flutter at the mix of cologne and chlorine flooding your nose, and dizzying your mind. he’s so—uh..when men— your brain is short circuiting. literally. mind so consumed by how big and strong this man beside is, that all you can think about is how he protected you. he pulled you out of the water. snapped at that guy…for you.

you’re not normally this moved. but it was the series of events that unfolded, all in the last few hours, that has you doing what you do next.

“please! you know i did not agree to that!” geto tsks, pointing his finger at gojo who’s laughing, sitting at the edge of the hot tub, legs in. and the two — along with the rest of the group involved in the debate — are distracted, and unaware of the fact that the pretty girl that sukuna almost started a fight over, is slipping her pretty hand inside his swim shorts.

sukuna tenses. breath hitching.

his eyes snap to you, stomach clenching. “what’re you—“ he chokes when you squeeze his thick base without warning. your cheek casually presses against his shoulder, wetting your bottom lip. your leg is tucked against his side, as the other swings over his knee, pretty tits squished against his arm. your wrist rolls, stroking his flaccid cock alive.

“ryo…” you speak low enough so that only sukuna can hear. “was jus’ thinking about you.” his jaw tenses, hand clenching at the edge of the tub, leaning his head down.

“you’re the one that doesn’t like this shit,” he husks, throat bopping as you bat your lashes up at him, bitting your lip as you give his cock another squeeze, pushing your wet tits against his arm. “there’s people—“

“then be normal, ryo,” you say, all while nuzzling him like a clingy g— “just wanted to feel how big you are.”

his heads tips back, what’re you even saying?

you keep your cheek pressed against his shoulder, lip tucked between your teeth as you stroke the vp’s fat throbbing cock in the middle of a party and in a hot tub full of his close frat friends.

it wasn’t difficult for his dick to fully harden within seconds of your hand making contact. you let out a soft exhale, pressing your practically naked body against him like you could get any closer than you already are. but to make matters worse, he was so unbelievably turned on that you were touching him in public! fuuck, his stomach flexes, biting back a groan when your thumb swipes his bulbous tip, the water made it difficult for you to keep a fast pace stroke, but his skin was still prickling with heat.

“ryo, is this okay?” you softly pant in his ear, a hum like moan escapes your lips just by the way he exhales through his nose, turning his head to you, aroma engulfing you.

to anyone else it just looked like you were having a private conversation with each other. the hot tub and pool, a few feet away, booming with chaos, no one was paying attention to you guys. but even with all that information, sukuna — who spreads his legs further apart in the water, biting his lip when you kiss his neck now, sucking a light bruise on his flushed skin — knows that you’d never do this. you get touchy when you’re drunk, whispering dirty shit in his ear. but you’ve only had a couple drinks to make you tipsy enough to enjoy the party and remember, not black out drunk to jerk him off in public.

“yeah—it’s okay,” his head drops forward, hot red flush crawling up his neck and stinging his cheeks as he nudges your head with his.

“yeah?” you repeat with a coo.

he bites back a pathetic groan, arm sliding to your waist under the water, gripping your flesh like his life depends on it. you’re intoxicating.

“yeah baby.”

a flush of heat runs between your legs at his deep bedroom voice. sukuna is so hot, he’s so hot, so pretty, so sexy! you squeal internally, leaning closer to press your lips against his sharp jaw, whining just low enough for him to hear. your wrist twists down his cock. you hadn’t even full realized that you’d taken him out of his swim trucks, to possessed to care as his fingers dig into your waist, while the other balls into a fist against the tube’s edge.

“are you close, ryo? is your big cock gonna cum?”

unbelievable.

sukuna’s jaw tenses, abs tightening just by your voice. you’ve been hanging up on how big he is. how big his hands are. how big his dick is — scratch that, you’re using the word cock now. yeah he’s gonna fuckin’ cum soon if you keep talkin’ like that.

“there’s so many people around ry,” you shy quietly, “you don’t think they know I’m playing with you?” your slightly tipsy eyes bat up at him, pupils completely dilated. his eyes briefly sweep around him, the alarms flashing in his mind don’t seem to phase him as he drops his lips down to brush yours.

“what if they are aware?” he husks, lidded eyes boring into yours. “does that make y’r pussy wet?” he wets his lip, thighs flexing when you give his cock a squeeze as he speaks. “ya like knowing that there’s eyes everywhere…watching your slutty self jerk me off.”

your brain short circuits. face burning hot.

“I’m not a slut,” you whisper, just as you’re practically straddling his thigh now, with the way you’re inching closer to him every second. his hand slides from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh as he pulls it apart letting you feel the warm tube water touch your heated pussy.

“you’re gettin on top of me—“

“to protect your dignity,” you attempt a frown, but your eyes keep flicking to his lips, brushing your lips against them again, just for him to pull back, again.

“didn’t take you as someone so generous,” he quips, hips angling up, subtly telling you to keep stroking him, even if it’s starting to feel like edging. “but,” he bites back another groan, “but to me, ya just look like another slut that wants to get her little pussy stuffed.”

you blink. once.

sukuna can see the lust burst behind your eyes. your thighs clamp around his beefy thigh, your hand squeezing his tip, and your lips parting. “is that so bad?”

ah fuck.

“you can’t say those words to a man,” sukuna’s rasps.

you pout, pressing your wet breasts against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies. your hot breath fans against his face, scent invading his mind, and your lips brush against his, this time licking his bottom lip. once. twice. your tongue strokes his bottom lip, waiting for him to invite you in, whining a little louder when he refuses. “ryo.”

his large palms grip your ass. your flimsy bikini could easily be pulled to the side, exposing you just like him. your cheeks flush, arching even more, your arms are tossed around his broad shoulder, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, desperate. needy. “I’ve been holding myself back ryo,” you quietly speak, unaware how much like déjà vu this feels. memories of last month flashing in his mind about those exact words coming from your lips as you climbed into his lap in the middle of a party. “you have to take care of it.”

“i have too?” he quips with a sharp edge in his tone.

your flush with embarrassment, lips parting as your lashes flutter shut, “please…please can you take care of it.”

unbelievable.

his cock twitches violently against your stomach. his muscular thigh flexes under your pussy making your lips part.

as you and sukuna speak in hushed whispers. a good group of people have take notice of the awkward shifting in the hot tub and the unrecognizable look on sukuna’s face. but specifically the girl that the sukuna let attach herself to him during a violently competitive water volleyball match and almost pick a fight with. he’s smirking as she whispers in his ear, her lips even pressing his lobe, making the intimidating vice president blush?!

“her tits are all over him,” one whispers, taking a sip as they watch from a distance, both sitting at the pools edge watching the events unfold a few feet’s away in the hot tub. it’s not obvious unless you’re staring as hard as these guys, or if you’re a certain man laughing as you stand up at the edge of the tub, face dropping for a millisecond when you catch your vice president getting off by a hot girl.

fucking animals, geto shakes his head, eyes flicking to gojo, easily communicating with him about you know.

gojo’s brows pinch glancing over from his seat at the edge of the tub, to— “oh shit!”

geto elbows him. “idiot!”

gojo’s hands fly to his mouth, laughing hysterically as he stares at the way his short tempered friend is blushing like crazy, and making it obvious to anyone that he’s getting his dick touched right now. “do they know what they’re doing?” gojo speaks in hushed whispers.

“obviously,” geto sits beside gojo, the tub water doesn’t seem to be appealing anymore. and yet there’s still a few people on the sides laughing, too drunk to notice.

“fucking pervs,” gojo snickers.

a beat passes.

then gojo turns, eyes wide when he sees geto staring blankly at him. “what?”

“you’re worse!” geto slaps him upside the head. gojo gasps in shock. “I can’t even remember how many times you fucked someone in here and in the pool—“

“hey,” gojo frowns, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “that was…b-because they were hot.”

geto scoffs, “you weren’t even subtle about them, everybody knew you were fucking them. YOU’RE the biggest perv.”

gojo nods, “yeah…”

your whine flows directly into sukuna’s ear, lips coming back to his. “why won’t you kiss me?” you quietly demand.

his dimples press into his cheeks as he bites back a smirk. “we’re jus’ talking,” he says your name, but in that deep way he does when he’s stuffing you with his cock…which he’s not.

you sit up closer, sliding higher up his thigh, knee rubbing harshly against his cock — “ah!” you squeal suddenly straddling his lap instead of his thigh. his red irises sink into yours, watching the way your glossy lips part glancing at the surface of the hot tub trying to make out how close his cock is to where you need him. “you’re hard ryo.”

“and?”

your eyes flick up to him, pretty brows pressing together, “and we’re not jus’ talking—“

“y’know—“ he suddenly chokes.

you’ve moved your bikini to the side, and pushed his cock down, fully sitting on his cock and sliding across it, hips shaking, stimulating your needy clit.

your name cuts through the air, his grip moves to grab your hips, trying to keep you still, but his body betrays him as he bucks against you. “fuck, woman.”

your lips press against sukuna, whining like a desperate slut when he finally kisses you back. and this was why he didn’t want to entertain you this quickly. the sweet taste of your lips immediately sends a rush of heat down to his cock, his arm wraps around your back, holding the back of your head as the other grips your ass, groaning as your lips smack in wet hungry kisses. your tongues collide, spit collecting in your mouth as he groans in response.

sukuna has to be responsible. he has too. but you’re such a fucking slut— touching his cock, stroking him in public, rubbing your body (his biggest weakness) against him like you’re alone together. and now you’re humping his cock like you can feel something with the water’s friction.

all of it was a factor, and for some unexplainable reason, all the dots seemed to have connected at this exact moment—like a huge light bulb going off in his head.

“shit.”

you hum at the way his deep voice sends a warm heat blooming in your stomach. “are you turned on, ryo?” your lips purse, kissing his, unaware of the sudden realization he’s come too. “keep kissing me.”

your fingers thread through his short locks, gripping him as you keep his lips moving yours.

but sukuna’s palm splays across your spine, groaning at the way you don’t stop to catch your breath. then his grip tightens. his mouth drags slower this time, more deliberate. he’s testing something, and the way you react—how quick you melt back into him, how your nails press into his shoulders like you’re holding on and the pitched whine that leaves your lips when he tries to pull away.

“how bad d’you need me?” he murmurs, voice low, rough, right against your pretty lips.

you don’t hesitate. “so bad,” you breathe, almost frustrated, because it’s obvious.

his eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating—then narrowing slightly. “yeah?” he hums, thumb pressing into your waist, grounding you as you shift again, his cock snug between your folds. “why,” he asks, tone not soft or gentle, but testing.

you shake your head slightly, breath catching, fingers tightening on him. “because— i just—” you exhale sharply, frustrated, needy, “i just want you to touch me.”

that’s all he needs. a quiet, almost amused exhale leaves him, something darker settling behind his eyes now. nanami’s little comment about “noticing now” makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. it doesn’t mean anything that you’ve had this friend with benefits deal long enough for him to start noticing a pattern every month. especially when this part of the cycle comes around and you’re practically begging him to just touch you. he highly doubts that you even notice it.

“been like this all night,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it gets firmer. “can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”

you don’t even deny it. you just pull him back in. and this time he lets you. let’s you kiss him like it’s your last time, let’s you tug his hair like he belongs to you. let’s you pull away… you’re panting at him through glossy, lidded eyes.

and then sukuna notices.

the shift.

your breathing breaks. shallow and uneven. you can’t quite catch it as your lips part, soft, glossy, letting out these higher, breathier sounds that you’re not even trying to hold back anymore. it’s quieter than the music, but he hears it. feels it.

his grip tightens instinctively.

your hips are moving without any rhythm now. they’re slow, needy, desperate. your body chasing something it can’t reach fast enough. your fingers press into his lower stomach, clutching there like you need something solid to hold onto, your head tipping forward, lashes fluttering like a fucking angel. and your mouth falls open. a soft, pitched sound slips out of you—one you don’t even seem aware of—and it’s enough to make something dark flicker across his expression.

“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, eyes locked on your face now, watching every little change his cock twitching uncontrollably.

your brows pinch, then your body tenses, then softens, like a wave hitting and pulling back all at once. your grip on him tightens, thighs pressing in, grounding yourself on his cock without even thinking about it.

and he doesn’t move. doesn’t interrupt it. he just watches. because now he knows. and all he can think is how unbelievably hot you look in his eyes—like something wired wrong in his brain just flipped on. women that are ovulating mean they’re more likely to get pregnant. fuck. why is his brain latching onto that part? you’re his fuck buddy. this is simple. it is simple. it’s perfectly reasonable—completely normal, even—for him to get turned on thinking about how much you cling to him, how much you crave him, how much you need him, how your body reacts to him like this. that doesn’t mean he wants to get you—

absolutely the fuck not.

but still…fucking women. you’re insane. his brain is short circuiting while you’re coming undone on his lap, in a hot tub, in the middle of a packed party.

and the way you’re panting, your breasts pushed together as you keep a hand on his lower abs, pussy spasming as your orgasm rocks through you, has something low and satisfied settling in your fuck buddy’s chest. his hand slides up your back again, slower this time, more deliberate.

“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself, thumb pressing lightly into your side as your breathing tries to steady. “that’s what i thought.”

his lips ghost over you.

then he feels it…the eyes.

his dark gaze flicks up. meeting the dilated blue and black ones, along with the others in the crowd. they all saw, didn’t they. witnessed something that had his jaw tightening and his pupils returning to their size.

“fuck me,” you pant quietly, arms lazily coming back to his shoulders coming down from your climax. you kiss him deeply, unaware of the mess you’re causing inside his brain. “I’ve heard people say hot tub’s make you orgasm better,” you lick his tongue, “because of the hot water.”

his grip tightens around you, eyes open and staring past you at the people eyeing the arch in your back as you make out with him like you didn’t just hump yourself to an orgasm in public.

“do you wanna cum too ryo?” your mischievous smile would’ve made any man buckle, but sukuna wasn’t any man. and he sure as shit isn’t a fucking cuck.

“no.”

his sudden tone shift had you pulling back, wet hand touching his damp cheek. sukuna’s thick brows were pulled tightly, clearly angry, at what? you’re not sure. but you’re too lax to think much of it as you squish his cheeks between your fingers. his tatted arm possessively hugged you, eyes briefly leaving the not so subtle audience behind you, to meet your glass eyes.

“you mad I came before you?” you tease, head tilting in mockery. cute. “it’s okay, I’ll make ya cum,” you whisper, smile gracing those sinful lips of yours. “I’ll let you choose too…”

fuck, you’re insane.

“…my hands…my lips….or my tight, pretty pussy….”

sukuna snorts, eyes meeting yours. “unbiased much.”

you shrug biting your lip, batting your pretty lashes at him. “you always call it that. I’m just using your vocabulary, mister suh…ku…nuh.”

that was his final straw, because in a blink of an eye, sukuna’s tucking himself and pushing off the tub’s seat, standing up. water cascades down the sharp planes of his abs, his swim trunks clinging low on his hips—leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

and people notice.

of course they do.

your jaw drops for half a second, eyes going wide before heat floods your face so fast it burns. you shoot up right after him, fist clenching at your side, brows pinching tight. “what’re you doing?”

“we’re going upstairs,” he says simply, like there aren’t a million eyes on him, more specifically on his thick bulge. girls are openly staring now, not even trying to hide it as their gazes drag over him, over the obvious outline pressing against his trunks.

your stomach twists. uncomfortable. sharp. ugly. you don’t name it. you won’t name it because it’s stupid. you have no claim, no say, no right to feel any type of way about who looks at him or how they look at it. but still, your jaw tightens because the way they’re staring is making your blood boil and it’s like they’re in on something they’re not supposed to be. they’re looking at something that has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. just you.

your eyes flick back to him, to the way the water trails down his body, down the dark wet hairs of his happy trail. the way he stands there like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the attention. and it only makes it worse. he looks like he’s been carved out of stone. something untouchable. and everyone’s fucking touching him with their eyes.

your lips press into a thin line, pulse uneven, heat sitting low in your stomach now for an entirely different reason as you step closer to him without even realizing it, hand settling on his stomach blocking the view from the onlookers. your fingers twitch. and you hate…hate how much it bothers you.

“you’re hard,” you huff, pushing him to step out of the tub, heart beating uncontrollably.

sukuna snorts, leaning down, “yeah no shit.”

“people are staring,” you grit.

your pulse stops. the air shifting around you, then you feel it. sukuna’s eyes bore into you, as his palm cups the side of your neck. your lips part in confusion when his gruff voice cuts.

“they’ve been staring.” the muscles on his jaw flex, pupils moving over your face as his gaze drops to your body. “they all…” his words trail off. he can’t say it…he can’t tell you they all fucking saw you cum, or the way your entire form looked like something straight out of every guys wet fantasy. all because of that unspoken tug that twists in his chest as you look up at him.

his head tips back in defeat.

unaware of the turmoil, you continue pushing him back, glancing briefly over your shoulder to see a few eyes not on the party but staring at sukuna.

“can you walk faster,” you mutter.

sukuna suddenly grabs your wrist after another push backwards, almost making him trip. his grip is firm and fast, yanking you back toward him before you can take another step, your body colliding lightly into his chest. water still drips from both of you, heat clashing with the cool night air as he steadies himself, jaw tightening for a second.

“watch it,” he mutters, low, though there’s no real bite to it. if anything, there’s something else there. his hand doesn’t leave your wrist. instead, it slides up, fingers curling tighter as he pulls you closer. closer. until there’s barely any space left between you. you barely get a word out before he leans down and kisses you.

hard.

it’s sudden. messy. all teeth and heat, like he’s cutting off whatever rush of thoughts were building in your head. your hands come up instinctively, gripping into his shoulders as he angles you just right, one hand now firm at your waist to keep you there. your lips part, immediately tasting his skilled tongue.

and around you, the party doesn’t stop. it never does when it’s grown this chaotic. but there are pockets, small ones, where people notice. gojo, still leaning back against the hot tub’s edge, lets out a low laugh. “zero awareness,” he mutters, clearly entertained. geto just shakes his head, amused, watching the scene unfold like it’s expected. neither of them have the energy tonight to call their friend out, but they’ll be sure to give him shit tomorrow.

but off to the side, a couple girls lean into each other, whispering behind their solo cups, eyes flicking between sukuna and the very obvious situation he’s not bothering to hide. further back, a few of the same guys from earlier in the pool linger, their stares a little too heavy, a little too interested, but sukuna doesn’t register it.

he’s too focused on you. too focused on the way you kiss him back just as hard. how you’re still letting out those fucking whines and moans into his hot mouth. too focused on how quickly you fold into him like he’s the oxygen keeping you alive. to him, this urgency and impatience, just reads as one thing. you want him so bad.

he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, his gaze dropping to your face, slightly dazed, flushed, and lips parted from the kiss.

“…yeah,” he exhales, almost amused, thumb pressing into your waist like he’s grounding himself. “you taste so good.”

your fingers tighten around his bicep, the other around his shoulder, breath uneven as you blink up at him, still catching up.

“can we—” you swallow, then try again, quieter but more urgent, “can we go upstairs now?”

there’s a beat. then his hand slides down to yours again, grip tightening as he turns, already moving toward the house without another word—pulling you with him. he pushes straight through the noise that follows inside, the lights, the bodies still dancing in the kitchen like nothing. all the way up to his room, and immediately kicking the door shut.

and within a blink of an eye, your tongue is lolling out as sukuna sits behind you, fingers digging into your ass and face buried from behind.

“fuh—fuck yeah,” you drawl, lips wet at the feel of sukuna’s tongue dragging inside your pussy, lapping up and toying with your rim before going back to suck your slick juices. “c’mon ry, haah…” you’re pushing his head back, so you can sit up. you move to tug his wet trunks off, crawling onto his lap once he discards them. unbothered by the tick in his jaw at your stubbornness, because in seconds, your head is tossed back, and your back is arching as you sink down on the nine thick fat inches. “a….ah—“

your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back at the unbelievable stretch. your pussy swallowing every inch like the slut he loves.

“there ya go,” he praises, fingers digging into your ass as you stare at his lips. his sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip as your slick lubricates his cock. your pussy a generous fountain as you roll your hips, letting his cock stuff deep inside you. “take this fuckin’ cock like a good bitch.”

“ry…haah…” you’re moaning in choked gasps, drool peaking at the corner of your lips as you finally sit back on his thighs.

the man’s pupils dilate as you stroke your lower stomach, feeling the bulge as you bat your lashes up at him. “you’re inside me now, ryo.”

fuck you. seriously.

his brain short circuits in seconds. and now all he sees is you.

his body reacts like a dog with his master. obeying your needs like he’s wired to do that. and he’s not complaining. his hand falls on your ass, beefy thighs spreading, as he meets your bounces with rough snaps of his hips. your ass claps against his thighs with each bounce, gasps piercing the air as he fucks up into you with full force. and you let him.

“look like a fuckin’ porn star on top of me,” he grunts, swallowing a moan when you clamp around him, finger tugging on the knot around your neck letting your bikini finally fall off, freeing your gorgeous tits. “fucking brat—“

his tongue falls out, licking your tit that bounces in his face, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking desperately. and he’s not nice about it. because now he knows. he knows you’ll let him. knows when you’re ovulating you’ll let him be a little harder, meaner, because it feels good. it feels good to feel his teeth bite down on your nipple possessively. it feels good when he spanks your ass for the nth time until your eyes are rimmed red and flooding with tears.

it feels good to have him obsessed with you, because all you’re begging for is…

“cu—uh—cum.”

an electric current runs down his spine, jaw clenching and head tipping back, flooding your tight pussy with his thick load.

“shit—nghhh fuuuck—fuck baby,” he’s gripping your hips as you press against his stomach, rocking on his cock. he doesn’t fully realize his back is laying against the bed. not when you’re milking his cock like he’s some fucking cow…and yet… “shit keep goin, baby—yeah ya want m-Mmm shit.”

“feel so good ryo.” you shake your ass, feeling his cock twitch inside you when his arm wraps around you, tugging you down to his chest.

“you can keep going?”

you smile, hand touching his cheek, as your tongue strokes his bottom lip. “yeah.” you sigh, whining so softly he would’ve missed it. and you continue like that, kissing him over and over, sighing and calling his name as he pulls out, his fingers push inside your pussy from behind.

“y’r killing me with this tight pretty pussy,” he coos, sending a wave of heat through your veins.

you mewl against his lips, earning a mean spank to your ass, just for his middle and ring finger to slip back inside you. and he does that for god knows how long, until you finally spasm around his digits. he’s then flipping you over, easily getting on top.

“keep em open cmon.” his low voice has your pussy pulsing, pushing his previous load out right in front of his eyes. he must know his voice’s affects on you.

you hold your legs open, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch sukuna stroke his member over you. the room smells of chlorine, you, and him. “theere we go,” he groans, palm pressing against your knee as he kneels closer to your open legs, dilated pupils staring at the mess between your legs as he slaps his hard cock on your puffy pussy. “what a dirty fuckin’ girl,” he drags his cock between your slippery folds, exhaling through his nose when his engorged tip catches your sore clit.

“ryoomen,” you call softly, like you haven’t been all over him these last two days.

he snorts, “what happened to mister sukuna? don’t tell me you’ forgot how you humped yourself to an orgasm in the pool—“

“hot tub.”

“my bad,” he remarks sarcastically, tip pushing inside then pulling out again, teasing. “still rubbed this pussy raw, look,” he slaps his cock again, thumb rubbing your little bundle of nerves making you let go of your legs— “ah—keep em open.” he spanks the inside of your thigh. “dirty girls need to be taught a lesson.”

“please,” you scoff, sitting up on your elbows, “you were literally slapping everyone around with your hard dick.”

sukuna barks out a laugh. “my dick’s that big?”

you glance down at him, then back up. “I wasn’t being dirty. you were dirty too.”

“me?” he’s baffled, you’ve been throwing yourself at him all night!

you raise a brow at him, relaxing back on the pillows pressed against the headboard, eyeing him. “you never took your hands off me.”

sukuna scoffs, “as if, you latched onto me on the pool.”

“then i went to hime to wash my mouth out, and you—“ you point at him with emphasis, “came swimming to me, touching me, stroking my thigh, my back.” your brow quirks again, and sukuna goes mute. his jaw ticks, glancing over your face as your calf subtly hooks over his thigh, stroking up as your hands lay on your stomach, waiting.

“you…” he licks the back of his teeth, sharp eyes threatening, but… “so what if I had my hands on you?” oh, he admits it. your cheeks sting, wetting your lip as you shrug.

“well,” you tilt your head again, slightly embarrassed now, glancing down at his inked chest. “like…you can’t blame me for getting turned on then.”

“because I’m touching you?”

you nod.

“like this,” his palm trails from your knee, slowly up your thigh. the warmth of his skin feels burns a trail up your body.

you nod.

his hand reaches your waist, eyes boring into yours. his cock throbbing at this point, he can feel the slick of your arousal costing his cock as it rests against your pussy.

turning to some light foreplay after just fucking you was messing with his head…because….it feels so good.

“what about when I’m touching your waist,” his thumb strokes the soft skin. “it’s not your ass.”

your breath is uneven. your heart beats against your rib cage. “still,” you exhale.

“still turns you on?” he clarifies, catching the way your lips part, breathless just by the way he’s flirting with you. his cock twitches…you’re gorgeous.

you nod.

his free hand caresses your hips, moving it up your body in feather-like-caresses. his other arm is pressed beside you, keeping himself up as he watches your arms lay bent on the bed. his hand lightly brushes the side of your breast before trailing over your collarbone. “still?”

you nod, wetting your bottom lip, blown pupils maintaining eye contact.

his thumb caresses your collarbone, eyes flicking between your eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling in uneven breaths. “how about now?” his palm glides over your bicep, then down your arm, before threading his fingers with yours.

you squeeze his hand, eyes unable to tear away from his, cheeks hot. his face inches closer to yours, exhaling against your lips. “I think you’ve jus’ proved how horny you’ve been these past few days.”

your breath stutters, angling your chin up, “obviously,” you mutter against his lips. “I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating.”

something dark and electric flashes through his eyes. a low exhale leaves him, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it, just heat, thick and immediate. his grip on your hand tightens to the point it almost borders on rough.

“yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping, rougher now, like it’s scraping out of his throat. his forehead nudges against yours for a second, grounding himself, but it doesn’t work. if anything, it makes it worse. “tell me you want me to stuff you then.”

“I want you to stuff me, ryo,” you repeat, breathless as his jaw slacks finally rocking his hips into yours, slick cock massaging your folds. “with your cock…your cum….”

“keep going,” he husks.

your free hand trails up his bicep, the other still holding his hand like an anchor. “I want you to fuck me. hard. use me. cum in me.”

“ah fuck—“ he slips his hand between your bodies, pushing his cock down and snapping his hips into yours, sheathing his entire length inside. your jaw drops, broken cry slipping out. “y’ really know how to make a man fucking hard.”

your lips are glossed with spit as he presses his lips against yours. he swallows your moans, snapping his hips with a mean hard thrust, picking up a brutal pace without warning.

and you love it.

the base downstairs shakes the bedroom walls, the laughing and chatter outside is nothing compared to the way you’re panting and crying in his ear. the lights flickering from the pools strobe lights, only serve to illuminate your flushed face as you cum.

“fuck, you still want more,” he’s already kissing you again, and again. spit mixing together against your tongues as he pulls away. he pants over your face, his cheeks flushed pink and his cock rubbed raw. “fuck gunna cum…ngh yeah fuck fuck—“ he pistons his cock inside your poor cunt, dilated pupils zeroing on the mess that’s gushing from you. his chuckle is broken with his groan as he fucks you through it all. “keep squirting baby, it won’t make me stop.”

and he doesn’t. his thrusts are rough. engorged tip bruising your cervix with every snap of his sharp fit hips. he’s harder than usual, and even as you’re gasping, back of your hand raised to your mouth, pussy spasming as sukuna slams his body weight into each thrust — you don’t push him away.

“gunna cum…shiit, shit it’s coming—“ his voice breaks, and it feels like a damn crashing. his cock pulses inside you, squirting buckets inside your poor cunt. “haah fuh—“ his abs flex, body weight dropping on top of you, hugging you tight as he rocks his hips into lazy harsh humps, burying himself deep inside you, you’re sliding against the mattress. the rasp in his throat has you holding onto him tight, unbothered by how unbelievably heavy he is on top of your smaller body.

and sukuna stays like that. face buried in your neck, arms clutching onto you, and brain fried.

“you also smell sweeter,” he mutters. “when you’re ovulating.”

“I don’t. you’re just a freak.”

he buries his nose deeper in your neck, inhaling sharply. “haah fuck, nah you definitely smell good.”

your brain short circuits, cheeks flooding hot as you wiggle underneath him. “you can’t—“

“you humped me in the hot tub.”

your brows scrunch together. “so?”

he licks your neck, “then you can’t blame me for still being turned on by you.” he licks a strip up to your ear, a tingle runs down to your pussy, squeezing around him.

he smirks.

of course he does. and why wouldn’t he? you’re already nudging him to your lips, kissing him again, like you aren’t stuffed with loads of his cum.

“you’re cute,” he mutters between kisses, and even if that makes your stomach flip, your face burn, and your heart skip a beat…you don’t comment on it. you don’t address it. and you sure as shit don’t think about it.

and the simple answer is, he’s kissing you right now and that’s all you want to think about it.

more frat!kuna here

a/n: I’m blaming the grammar errors on you guys for the rush (I also hate proof reading). but I hope u guys enjoyed it. believe me when I say, I was not expecting it to be that freaking long, I just really wanted to write sukuna and reader kinda skinny dipping, without losing their dynamic or doing something super uncharacteristic, so I dragged out the plot. but still I hope u guys liked it!

you’re framed in the open doorway between the bedroom and the living room, back half-turned to him, pacing softly like you’re afraid of waking the apartment. a phone is pressed to your ear, your voice low and controlled in that way he’s learned — after starting this deal with you over a month and half ago — means you’re holding something back with annoyance.

you’re wearing only an oversized one piece t-shirt, the fabric slipping off one shoulder when you turn, bare legs catching the morning light as you pace. sukuna stays still, eyes tracking you without shame or restraint — the fresh marks on your skin pulls his attention like gravity, evidence of last night written openly where only he can see.

he doesn’t interrupt. he doesn’t clear his throat. he just watches. groggy and unguarded. something unfamiliar and heavy settles subtly over his chest as he takes you in like this, quiet, half-dressed, soft.

the week hasn’t disappeared. neither have the problems he’s quietly pushed back for the moment. but from where he’s lying, tangled in your sheets, it’s impossible to pretend that he isn’t grateful to have this agreement. even with the new condition added on last night, his mind is only circling the moans that slipped your lips. the comforter, tossed on the ground, evidence of your little surprise. and the slight warmth in his chest at the thought of sleeping with you again.

the clanking of your beaded curtains draws his attention back up. your hand tossles your bed hair, his eyes follow the movement, slowly tracking down your figure, and the rise of your shirt. he notices the light hand marks he’d left last night on your hips, along with some hickies along your bare thighs.

“was I loud?” you grumble, tossing your phone haphazardly on the dresser.

sukuna clicks his tongue, hand scratching his chest before tucking his arm behind his head, his bicep subtly flexing. “were ya—“ sukuna stifles a loud yawn, missing the way you cross the room. your fingers graze his warm chest, eyes flicking to the obvious bulge under the thin blanket, his coarse happy trail an invitation.

“ngh—“ sukuna groans at the sudden weight dropped on his lap, but easily draws his free hand to caress your hip under your shirt. “were ya up long?”

you shake your head, hands on his pecs tracing the ink that marks his broad chiseled chest, “do you need to be anywhere?” you ask.

his eyes drop from your face to the subtle way you’re rocking your hips. the sheer blanket barely acts as a barrier between your pussy and his morning wood. his hand squeezes your hips, kneading the soft flesh.

your hands continue caressing his chest, like it was the first time you’re touching him, but really, you were just turned on. his hand leaves your hip for a second, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, just for your hand to follow, caressing his veiny forearm.

“touchy this mornin’,” he grumbles, dropping the hand back to your waist. the soft pads of your fingers trace up the veins of his arms, squeezing and groping the tattoos wrapped around his biceps. “I don’t needa be anywhere. do you?” he eyes your phone, causing you to glance away from his muscles, to the deep red eyes.

you wet your lips, hesitating for a moment, then shaking your head.

his brow quirks, hand twitching when you start rocking a little quicker, the blanket slipping lower with each rock, his thick happy trail scratching at your puffy clit now. a satisfied sigh escapes your lips as you press your hands to his lower abdomen, his abs flexing under your palms as you begin humping him quicker. you were absolutely shameless, that was his favorite part about you. you can feel his hard cock pressing up against the blanket, pushing against your ass.

“pretty turned on,” he snorts, biting his lip as you give another delicious roll of your hips, moaning softly, eyes fluttering. you’re unbelievable. “wanna put it inside?” he spreads his thighs, hand grabbing at your waist, but instead your lips fall down connecting with his collarbone, shocking the man briefly.

but what takes him completely by surprise is when your lips continue trailing south. the slow drag of your wet lips on his warm skin, the gentle possessiveness of your fingers feeling his body.

you were in a different mood than last night.

his jaw tenses, watching you closely as you suck a bruise on his lower abdomen, your hand feeling the deep ridges of his hard earned abs. you push the blanket further down, crawling between his thick thighs. your lashes bat gently, savoring every kiss you press against the man, until your fingers gently touch his wrist.

his pupils dilate, breath hitching in his throat.

you’re staring up at him, breath fanning against the thick groomed hairs of his pubes, and your gentle fingers have firmly gripped his wrist, gently placing it on the crown of your head.

seriously? his neck strains with control, wetting his bottom lip as you nuzzle subtly into his hand.

something’s definitely up…

“you’re fucking insane,” his words come off colder than he’d intended, but if there was one thing about you, it’s that you’ll almost always bite.

you hum in quiet confirmation, lashes batting as you kiss his lower pelvis. your manicured nails brush his thick pubes as you kiss him lower, hand pushing his thick cock down as you glance up at him through your lashes. you don’t think twice about nuzzling your cheek in his musk, as if you’re oblivious to the obvious stench of sex from last night, and he could’ve sworn your eyes were just a bit more glossy than usual as you subtly inhaled.

that’s when he finally flexed his forearm, his hand that you’d placed on your hand, finally brushes your hair, thumb falling on your forehead as he caresses the soft skin. petting.

his cock stirs. stomach twisting. the calmness quietly takes him by surprise. your lashes flutter shut for a moment, breath fanning against his most private area, tension forced off your shoulders. and he watches closely, the way you melt between his legs just from the action of petting your head.

your expression turned gentle. the knit in your brows from your phone call eased, and your lips part with even breaths, your shoulders rise a little more, until your fingers flex, gripping his cock in surprise.

“shit,” a sharp hiss escapes his lips, cock jumping in your hand as you nuzzle closer, kissing his base. his muscles flex with control, slightly irritated by your pace, but not completely oblivious to your distant gaze.

so he continues petting you.

occasionally brushing your cheeks before returning his large hand to the top of your head, humming in satisfaction when you begin kissing his cock with more intention. your lips suck on the veins at the base of his cock, tongue flat before dragging it up to his flushed red tip, spitting. his thighs spread, hand holding the side of your head, allowing his thumb to grant you whatever relief you needed by caressing your cheekbones.

“good girl,” he rasps, voice still groggy from the morning. his cock twitches as he feels your spit slide from his tip to his girthy base, your hand lubricating him as you kiss his tip again and again. the coil already starts twisting deep in his gut as you take your time. your jaw opens wider, holding his cock as you slap it against your tongue.

eyes locked on him.

a low groan escapes his throat, hips rising slightly. his leg is bent open just for his impressive cock to twitch some more, slit leaking bitter pre for your tongue to lap up like ice cream.

you’re fucking messing with him.

his head tips back, throat bopping and arm draping over his face. his bicep flexing, controlling himself. he’s snapped at you to get on with it before, he might as well snap now. but there’s a great fucking chance you’d just stop. pull away. glare at him. and though he’s sure he can convince you to keep going. it still feels like you’re both walking on thin ice.

you’d just mended things. he’s not a complete idiot to act like an asshole after that, even if he thinks bickering during sex is what your relationship is—but you’re acting uncharacteristically different. so he bites his tongue, keeping a hand on your head allowing you to go at your pace like his cock is there to serve you and not him.

it’s torture.

are you punishing him? that can be the only explanation to why you’re suckling his painfully engorged tip for the past ten-fifteen-twenty minutes??? you’re acting like it’s the first time you’re seeing a man’s cock.

your lips part, a soft moan escaping as you get a taste of his bitter cum, swallowing more of his length as you bob your head slowly, hand pumping the rest as you cup his heavy balls.

“fuuck me,” he grunts low and dangerous, fingers tightening around your hair, pushing you down as you gag. your whines go straight to his cock, his head dizzy from the edging, and screaming for release.

your fingers tighten around his base, before pushing against his toned thighs, trying to push off, but his hand remains firm on your head, keeping you down as you swallow more of his length. deepthroating.

“haah fuck, jus’ like that, baby, fuckin’ mouth feels like heaven—ngh gun’ cum in this hole,” his words strain, forearms flexing as he bucks his hips up. his cock hits the back of your throat immediately triggering your tears.

your nails dig into his thighs, breathing through your nose as your throat constricts around his cock, finally sending him over the edge.

“fuck-fuck—“ the loud unfiltered groan fills the bedroom. his thick cum spills down your throat, suffocating you as you finally push his hand off.

his cum hits your face as you gasp for air, swallowing the cum that filled your mouth as the rest paints your chin and lips. “fuuck me,” he groans, chest heaving as his hand falls from his face to his stomach.

your cheeks flush, heart hammering as you catch your breath, watching the huge man on your bed soak in his post nut bliss. your brows furrow, anger quietly bubbling under the surface, just to still when you see the lazy grin on his face, canines peaking. the furious heat that blows your face, triggers your realization that you’re absolutely soaked. he’d just used your face and you’re unbelievably wet—

“are ya mad?” he sighs, opening an eye to glance at you. his hand comes back to your face, wiping his cum from your chin, just to push it to your lips. “open.”

you’ve definitely lost your mind.

your soft lips part. his thumb pushes in. eyes locked on your glossy lips sucking the rough digit, cleaning his cum off. his cock stirs again, eyes lidded as he maintains eye contact. your lashes bat up at him, curiosity and anger mixed together, just for his eyes to break your skin, face a hot mess.

“taste good?”

sukuna scoffs as you shake your head. you pull off for a moment, fingers brushing his forearm as he holds your jaw.

“it’s more bitter,” you admit, “were you drinking a lot this week?”

his jaw tenses, remembering the events of the past week without you—

“i like it when it tastes sweet,” you say. his hand falls as you pull away. your fingers grab the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it.

“when does it ever taste sweet?” he scoffs, watching as you stand up, eyes flicking to the way your nipples harden at the cool air, tits swaying as you grab a new box of condoms from your drawer. he catches sight of your ass, bruised and gorgeous.

“most of the time it does,” you answer, taking out a condom, and tossing it on his stomach. then you climb back between his legs.

his eyes widen briefly.

you face away from him. your hips rise as you position your feet under his bent legs. his muscular thighs flex, biting back a groan as he grabs a handful of your ass, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. he moves slightly up, resting his back on the pillows and headboard.

“don’t wanna face me ‘cause i came down y’er throat?” he jerks his cock, before sliding the condom on. he’s not complaining about the view, yeah, he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure, but this view was an easy fucking turn on.

“i wanna go at my pace,” you huff, raising your hips as your hand comes between your legs. sukuna bites back a grin as you grip his cock, positioning it at your hole.

“y’er pussy looks fucking tiny from here, sure y’er not gonna cry?” he teases, holding your ass apart, thumbs close to your entrance keeping you open for his greedy eyes.

“m’ fine,” you mumble, biting your lip as you push his tip against your cute little cunt, slowly sinking down. the smallest whimper escapes your throat at the stretch of his engorged tip. “haaah…”

his jaw slacks, a low airy chuckle sinks in your ear as the athlete watches your ass bounce and shake over his tip, making it snug right into your gummy walls to suck in.

“c’mon a lil’ more finesse, babe,” he comments, amused at the way you lean forward grabbing fistfuls of the bedsheet, back arching even deeper. “fuuck.”

spank.

a shocked gasp leaves your lips. ass bouncing with more vigor, pussy sucking in more of his length.

spank!

“angh!” your moan pierces the air, your pussy oozing slick as you ride his big chubby cock. every spank to your ass a signal to go faster.

god, it feels so good.

“keep shakin’ your pretty ass in my face—“ spank! “fuck—take this cock like a good girl. ya like havin, this pussy filled, don’t ya?” spank!

“yeeah,” you pant, ass slamming down to meet his hips. your eyes fluttering with every drag, mind growing numb every time his tip hits your cervix,

“yeah, keep going—ngh keep goin’,” his rough grunts from behind you has you chasing the coil twisting in your gut. “missed this pussy all week…you missed it too right? missed this big cock stretching y’er cunt?

“anngh ryo-ryo wanna cum on you, ry—haah ah,” your lips part, choked whines flowing out with each hard spank to your ass. his grip tightens on your hips, slamming you down harder, suffocating his cock around your weeping pussy.

his hips rise to meet yours halfway, your eyes roll back at the delicious stretch. biting your lip as you fist the sheets. you ignore the sting in your thighs as you keep bouncing, tongue falling out like a dumb slut as he spanks you harder. unsympathetic to your cries as he keeps your ass bouncing over him.

then, his eyes flick to your other hole. his pupils blow black, heart hammering as his thumb slowly moves to the puckering hole. “fucking winking at me,” he mutters to himself.

“feels so good, ryo,” you whine, unaware of his new sudden attention. his thumb rubs the dip in your spine, biting his lip as you slam down again. fuck your asshole looks so pretty, he thinks, face burning. “ryo—“ your moans pitch higher, snapping him back.

“slutty pussy,” he grunts, biting his lip to spank your ass again, pupils dilating at the recoil. “yeah,” his hands glide over the globes of your ass, chuckling as your bouncing grows sloppy. whines carefully hitting the walls as you sit up, hands on his knees, as you start slamming down harder. “shiit.”

his knuckles turn white, gripping your hips as he feels you start clamping, your hands go back to the sheets between his legs, panting like a little slut that’s never fucked herself on a big cock before.

“gunna cum-gonnacumgonna—ahh—“ your hips still, his cock fully sheathed inside your tight pussy, whining. he feels you clench around him in spasms. your glossy lips slick with drool, choked whines escaping as a hot white orgasm rocks through your veins.

“god, this pussy is dirty,” he spanks your ass again. a low groan crawls up his chest as you slowly rock back n forth, dragging your climax.

then with just his tip in, pussy stretched and oozing around him, balanced on your forearms and knees, you glance over your shoulder.

“use my pussy, ryo.”

he blinks.

his heart stutters.

then his face blows hot bright pink.

he’d just woken up. the man had been holding back for your sake. even though he can tell you’re not all there. mind wandering with that distant look in your eyes. he’s a man at the end of the day. and if you’re batting your lashes at him like that, with that look in your eyes, asking him to use you? well, there’s no stopping him.

your head was stirring from quiet to loud. you’d been up around an hour ago to use the bathroom, and mistakenly detoured to your buzzing phone in the living room once you’d stepped out of the bathroom. the pit in your stomach felt bigger now that finals is officially over, and today was the start of summer.

with that realization, your dads caller id felt like everything you’d been avoiding finally toppling onto your shoulders, and suffocating you into the ground.

your sister had decided after she’d left your niece, yazzy, with you for too long and almost made you miss your final, that it would be a great idea to come over the same night, and thursday, and friday. all the way up until your brother-in-law finally finished his meeting: and was ready to head to the airport.

however, this quality time with your older sister couldn’t have been at a worse time.

“what?!” your eyes widen, lurching back. you were sitting on the couch, yazzy was playing with some legos on the floor, and your sister was scrolling on her phone.

jennie nods, “yeah I know, weird.”

“that’s really really weird. why the hell is everyone getting married so early? like we’re still in college??” you ramble, shocked by the news your sister had just told you. another one of your close family friends just got engaged, mind you she’s your age, “and the guy is her age too?”

jennie nods, cringing, “yeah, he’s still in school, and mom was saying that their gonna live with his parents until like, he makes money.”

you cringe, “I’d actually kill myself.”

jennie snorts, nodding along, “no like I’d actually kill myself.”

“dunno why she wouldn’t wait until they at least graduate and get a little stability. that’d actually be the worst possible thing, living off your in-laws money and they’re not even that wealthy,” you judge, only being able to do that around your sister. “wait— I literally thought she was still with leo?”

“no actually,” you sister easily agrees, and shrugs to your second inquiry. she’s scrolling through her messages until she finds the photos she’s looking for. “this was the engagement party mom went too, her dress is pretty here.”

you lean over, taking the phone from your sister to look, “yeah, she looks really pretty.”

“mama was telling me how they met in school. they were in the same student club, I think she was president and he was vice president or something,” jennie explains, while you swipe through the pictures. “they talked for like five months before getting engaged.”

“what?!” your eyes blow even wider. “just five months?!!”

you sister snorts, “yeah, insane.”

“yeah what the actual hell?,” you hand her back her phone, mind slowly wandering…. “yeah, I’m definitely not getting married in school or straight out either. I’d rather die.” your sister quietly snorts, not in a way she’s hiding either. your brows furrow briefly, rolling your eyes the second you see that look on her face. “what?”

“nothing. I didn’t even say anything.”

you frown harder, “you’re making that stupid face. so what?”

jennie rolls her eyes, “you say you’re not gonna do a lot of things and you end up doing it.” she trails.

but you’re already frowning.

“you’re so annoying —you always get mad and I haven’t even said anything—“ she starts.

“yeah, because I know what you’re gonna say and I literally said that’s not how I am. sorry i can’t act out once. I guess that’s your thing,” you tsk.

jennie barely bats an eye as she speaks over you, “if you don’t want to go to med school. don’t. you’re a doormat about literally everything. you’re scared to make mom and dad upset and then you come complaining to me. you’ve always been like that. I’m not gonna do it, I don’t wanna do it. then you end up doing it. it’s annoying hearing you whine,” jennie huffs.

your eyes feel sore from how much you’ve rolled them, “like it’s that easy when he’s literally taking out loans and paying for me to go to school.”

“he did the same thing for me and i still dropped it. I’d rather havw done anything else than go to med school,” your sister makes that annoying ass so what face. “you’re just a goodeytoes.”

“I’m literally not. and unlike you I actually feel bad when dad wastes money—“

“It’s your future. he’s not even forcing you to do it. you just keep saying you wanna do it—“

“I never said I wanted to do it—“

“well you basically did when dad asked what else are you gonna do and you didn’t even wanna tell me him you’re interested in other stuff. and then when he pushed you to go pre-med you just went along with the it…like a doormat.”

your jaw ticks, blood pumping viscously in your ears. “I’m not a doormat, I’m just indecisive.”

“yeah, well same thing,” your sister says, your mouth opens to reply when her phone starts buzzing. your face goes pale at the caller id.

“don’t pick up—“

“hey dad.”

you sink into the couch, heart beating against your ribs as you anxiously hear the sound of your dads voice. you hadn’t spoken to him since you’d told him you’re not taking you mcats this summer. it’s almost been two full weeks of you dodging his calls, and dryly replying to his texts.

“yeah she’s sitting right next to me,” your sister puts him on speaker.

you inhale sharply, taking a deep breath as your dad greets you. his tone calm, clearly cautious, as if you’ll run away from a phone call. which you’ve been doing, but it’s irritating nonetheless because he already knows you’re there.

“how are your finals going?” he asks.

your lips purse, “fine.” your eyes flick up, “i can barely study with jennie here though.”

“I don’t even bother you—“

“I was up all night because I couldn’t do anything in the morning. she had me babysit yazzy all day and yesterday and she knows I have finals. I almost missed my exam yesterday because she didn’t pick up yazzy in time.”

“that wasn’t my fault—“

“jennie,” your dad cuts the argument.

your sister gives the biggest eye roll known to man, and you know she’s going to give you attitude after the call. but you’d rather snitch and distract your dad, than give him the chance to turn the attention on you.

however, he’s a surgeon. meaning, he’ll get to the point easily and never beat around the bush. even after scolding jennie on your behalf, he quickly shifts, your name cutting through the speaker, “did you sign the forms I emailed you?”

your sister glances up, eyes boring into yours as you sink back, head falling on the cushion as the anxiety quickly crawls up your throat.

“I got your friend’s forms, she signed them quickly, so I need you to do that soon,” your dad certainly has a way of talking at you, rather than to you. however, you’re not much to confront him, especially when you’re not even confident in what you’ll be doing this summer. all you know is you do not want to work with your dad, but you’d rather die than ever say that to his face.

“I’m still like…waiting to hear back from some other places, so I don’t wanna commit to that,” you scratch at the cushion.

your sister rolls her eyes — it’s almost like that’s the only thing she knows how to do.

“what exactly are you waiting for you? you said you’re going to work in the summer, are you backing out?” his harsh tone quickly has you clenching your jaw in frustration.

“it’s the summer before my senior year. I said I had things that I wanted to check out—“

“you can’t just keep going back and forth when you agree to something,” he snaps. “that’s what being an adult is. you said you would take your mcats in the summer, and work. if you don’t have anything to do than you’re going to work. I don’t wanna come home everyday and see you just sitting at home waking up past twelve—“

“I wasn’t going to just sit at home,” you tsk.

“then what’re you going to do?” his harsh tone immediately shuts you up. there’s no talking to him when he’s like this. it was the sureness in his tone that always made you feel incompetent, like every second you spend indecisive, is another day wasted. you roll your eyes, getting up. “if you have something that’ll keep you busy for the summer, that’s not just sitting at home, then tell me and I’ll leave you alone. but you don’t.”

“okay, whatever,” you storm off grabbing your bag shoving your laptop in.

your sister mutters how you’re leaving and it’s not long until the call ends and your sister is turning in her spot on the couch. “you have a problem with criticism,” she starts.

“I don’t,” you mumble, slipping your shoes at the door. “I have a problem with everyone pushing me around when I literally said I needed time.”

“when have you ever said that?” she throws back.

your jaw ticks, “all the freaking time,” you grit. “I’ve been volunteering at the hospital every summer since high school, and did those programs too. it’s annoying and boring and I don’t know why he’s obsessed with me doing a new one every summer.”

“you never tell him though—“

“because I don’t have anything else!” you snap, mind getting tangled. why is it so hard for her to understand? out of everyone, she should be the most sympathetic. but unlike you, she doesn’t care if she upsets your parents. it’s one thing you hate about your older sister. she’ll do, quite literally, anything she wants. and if she doesn’t want to do it, she won’t.

jennie stifles a loud groan, rolling her eyes as she turns back to the tv. “go, ohmygod I’m so tired of your excuses.”

“it’s not—tch,” you don’t even bother. instead you twist the handle of your front door and leave.

you aren’t clueless. you’d definitely think that your self-aware — like many others do — but it’s difficult to be self-aware and prideful. you hate the idea of going to med school, you hate the idea of doing the same thing every day. if you pursue it, you definitely wouldn’t settle for anything other than a surgeon, that’s what dad is. but you don’t even want to be doctor in the first place! but you’re too scared to fully commit to something in the arts—

your mind pounds as you hole yourself in your the library for that entire thursday night. you couldn’t even bring yourself to fully process whether you smelled or not. instead, you took your final two exams friday morning and noon. desperately racking through your brain why you’re trying so hard for something you care so little for.

it wasn’t a subject you liked pondering. in fact, you actively try to avoid thinking about your future. it’s a blaring red topic that only brings you anxiety, insecurity, and many other negative feelings.

maybe that’s why you spent a majority of your day on campus, wandering from the student center, to the cafe, to the courtyard— all with the intention of avoiding your apartment until you sister leaves.

but you can only distract yourself for so long. your stomach churned with anxiety as you wasted the day away on the grass. your heart picking up as the inevitable responsibilities you’ve put off began to loom over your head like a dark cloud. one that had you curling inward on the grass. hand pressing over your heart as you rubbed it, hoping it’ll ease the tightness that continues to wind.

“fuck me,” you mutter, swallowing the lump in your throat. your eyes feel hot, tears collecting before your can control it. this sucks so bad.

the heat in your chest was a familiar sensation. one that left you sinking deeper and deeper. you’ve been trying so hard for the past three years…you’ve mentioned your scripts to your dad…to your mom….but you’re always met with the logistics. if you showed a little interest in something, they automatically assumed you were a pro….

you quietly try to swallow your self-loathing, wiping the few tears that managed to fall. it’s inevitable, you repeat, making your way to the bus when your phone goes off.

CALLER ID: DUMBASS

your breath hitches.

…is he going to apologize? end the deal? your stomach churns uncomfortably. fuck, your head feels like it’s gonna explode—

you pick up, “hello?”

—

“ngh fuckfuck—fuck m’ cumming—shiit—!!” sukuna growls in your ear, muscles glistening with sweat as his stomach flexes against your back. his muscles lock up after a few more sloppy thrusts. his biceps flex, arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you arched down on the bed as he slams his brutal length from behind. his other hand interlaced with yours on the bed, squeezing it as he buckles over.

“fhuckk—nghhh—“ his groans wavers on the precipice of sounding like moans, completely falling over the edge as he shoots his load into the rubber.

his hips roll viciously, grinding right against your sweet spot, earning a moan like whimper from you, until he’s finally stilled behind you.

his warm breath fans against your ear,

the morning weekend traffic sounds outside. the quiet calm that falls after a good fuck settles in the bedroom, along with your mixed pants.

your stomach fully relaxes on the mattress, body laying down. sex is fulfilling…you think. your mind feels all mushy, your limbs sore, your ass definitely more bruised—yet your stomach still manages to churn uncomfortably.

you swallow a thick lump, resting your cheek further into the mattress, eyes closed. why does it have to be summer already?

jennie is such a selfish— your eyes clench tighter, heart speeding up at the memory of yesterday, after getting back home from the bus….

“why do you always finish inside me?” your voice comes out before you can stop it, distracting yourself.

sukuna lazily blinks, pulling out, chest still pressed against your back as he tugs the condom off tying it. “what kinda question is that?” he mutters, cock pressing against your ass.

your lips part, unsure where it came from, but still managing a response. “i thought you hate condoms—“

“i do,” he quickly cuts, rolling beside you, chest rising and falling. “and I’ve cum on your ass n tits and face multiple times,” he tsks.

your lashes gently blink, palm sliding against the comforter. mind in quiet scrambles. his head turns, gaze falling to your palm now resting on his bicep. his eyes flick to your face, your lidded gaze fixated on your own fingers tracing his tattoos. there was no rush, not like the times before where he’d have practice, or you had to study. instead, there was an ambiguous tension of anxiety bubbling in you, not wanting to leave his side right now.

“hey,” your voice is much softer, as it always turns after he’s had his way with you. “what’re you gonna do this summer?”

sukuna shifts, biceps flexing as his other arm tucks behind his head getting comfortable beside you. “gonna go back to my gramps. have some shit i haveta deal with that I’ve been putting off,” he vaguely explains, eyes pointed at the ceiling. so far he hasn’t heard from kaori since he and toji paid her a visit a few weeks ago. then again, he hasn’t spoken to toji outside of practice, which strictly stuck to tactical and strategic moves on the pitch.

and let’s not forget the other headache of choso dodging his calls and texts. the most updates he’s received is when yuuji calls him from the house line, or texts him from gramps phone. and the most information given is yuuji’s two sentences about choso spending a lot of time with his band practicing for a show at the end of the school year. then he’ll go on a rant about some shit he dragged megumi and his new friend, nobara, into that landed them in in-school detention.

“do you live with your grandpa?” you question, curiosity always getting the better of you.

sukuna lets out a hum like grunt from the back of his throat, his hand scratches his sweaty stomach, biceps flexing under your palm as he does so.

“your brothers too?”

sukuna’s pupils flick to you from the corner of his eye. intimidating glare boring into you. “what’s with the interrogation?”

you sigh, closing your eyes, “was just wondering. am I crossing a line?”

his jaw ticks, you really have a way with words, and he doesn’t mean that in a positive way.

“yeah, my brothers live with him.” he could’ve easily snapped, but maybe it was the post-nut bliss swimming in his veins that allowed him to reply in a leveled tone.

your mind quietly begins to wonder…so him and brothers live with his grandpa…so where’s his dad? if he has a step mom, did his parents get a divorce? is his mom still in the picture? is his dad still in the picture? what’s the issue with his step-mom? he doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with her—

“what’re you gonna do this summer?” his words cut your wandering thoughts, focus snapping back to him with an uncomfortable twist settling over your shoulders. he doesn’t miss the way you inhale deeply.

“probably…” you mutter, trailing off as your palm slides off his bicep, “gonna work at the hospital…for my…yeah…”

his brow quirks in subtle confusion, “yeah?”

you sigh through your nose, glancing at the veins around his biceps…how can someone be so strong? how long did it take him to build all that muscle, do soccer players even need huge biceps?

“hey,” he snaps you back.

your lips part, blinking.

“your yeah?” he repeats, intrigued now that you’re acting weird.

“my dad,” you mutter, eyes closing. “shoko is also gonna stay over for a few weeks for the program, so like, that’s good,” you add quietly.

his brow remains up, confused why you’re answering so cryptically, ignoring how similar your tone is to his, “do you not like y’er dad or some shit?”

your eyes flick to him with shock. the silence was unconvincing before you finally respond. “it’s not like that,” you swallow a lump, tongue poking your lips.

“so you don’t like the program?”

you sigh louder, why can peace never find you? “I’ve been working up this program for a thousand years… I hate it.”

“then don’t do it,” his simple response immediately sets you off. he catches the quiet tsk from your mouth, his brows furrowing as his head turns to you. “sore subject much?”

you glare up at him.

he scoffs, settling himself again, “just tell me to fuck off then,” he tsks, “fucking keep my mouth shut next time.”

you frown at his reaction, “does everything trigger you?”

his face morphs into a deeper scowl, rolling his eyes. “maybe we should another fucking condition, no fucking talking after sex,” he growls.

your brow hits the ceiling, eyes wide, as you snap up, “what?!” your screech pierces his ears, making him flinch back. “what the hell! i don’t agree. if that’s a condition then no deal, man!”

sukuna shoots you a bewildered look, “you can’t keep your mouth shut after fucking?”

“no, what the hell,” you shoot, eyes wide as they bore down at him. “you can’t ban me from talking. that’s a dumb freaking condition,” you ramble. the fratboy scoffs lightly, eyes glancing between yours as you continue. “what happens if I break the condition huh? you’re gonna end the deal then, let’s just end it now, because I don’t agree, and I don’t approve of adding it. it’s dumb and literally makes no sense. god forbid I wanna say something once in awhile, it’s almost like I have brain.”

your rant turns into more of a dumb explanation of your disagreement, while sukuna gives you the most deadpan unamused look ever. it’s almost like this whole thing has turned into one big fat (amusing) inconvenience for him.

with some miracle, you finally notice him. your face twists, “what?”

the man slowly blinks, “I’m surprised you stopped talking for a minute.”

“hilarious,” you roll your eyes. “well I disagree. so your choice: no condition, or no deal.”

“is that an ultimatum?”

you don’t even glance at him, you’re sat up resting back on your arm, the ball really in his court, as you wait.

he scoffs, rolling his eyes. you’re a fucking handful. “no condition.”

“that’s what I thought,” your quick response earns a genuine snort from the man. your gaze flicks to him with amusement subtly dancing behind your eyes. “you’re acting like you don’t talk after sex.”

“not as much as you,” he throws back, eyes tracking over your face, then down to your breasts. you looked mouthwatering sitting up beside him like this. the afternoon sun shining throw the sheer curtains, highlighting every mole he’s definitely put his lips on. his mind felt surprisingly calm, even if the inevitable summer has finally arrived, at least he’s still in your presence.

“you’re not even listening to me. does a naked girl really distract you that much?”

“yeah,” he husks, leaning up to kiss the soft flesh of your breast, hand groping the other as he sucks with a low hum. your lips part in mild surprise, sigh escaping as he hallows his cheeks. his touch is firm, cupping the underside of your breast as he brings his lips to the other.

your lidded gaze drags over him, holding back your amusement seeing his flaccid cock twitch and easily grow hard again. unbelievable…

“ngh—shit that was good,” sukuna grunts, sweaty back hitting the mattress after another quick round. his satisfied smile whilst he catches his breath was amusing, especially when your lips part kissing his neck.

“you gonna be gone all summer?” you ask into his neck, arm loosely laying across his chest, his arm still tucked around your torso keeping you pressed to his side as you come down from your climax.

“dunno—I live an hour away, but I’m always comin into the city so,” he shrugs. you hum quietly, thinking. “you?”

your fingers quietly touch his ear lobes, missing the heated flush that crawls up his neck at the sensitive touch. “I live in the opposite side of the country…I’d rather stay here,” you murmur, eyes gently falling shut again, desperately trying to keep your brain mushy. “let’s just go back to sleep….”

his chest quietly rises, gentle breath slipping past his lips. he glances at you tucked by his side. and even if it was the afternoon, having your body heat and scent surround him, the gentle caresses of your fingers against his neck, and your warm breath fanning against his chest. well it all made it significantly easier for sleep to take over.

sukuna can’t know for sure how irresponsible it was to sleep for a majority of the day at your apartment. groggy as he woke up to take a piss then join you again. it truly felt like a recovery day from the stressful semester, and even more stressful week. but, before crashing beside you again, he’d managed to plug his dead phone into the charger.

that may have been a mistake. especially when he’s waking up to his phone pinging with notifications.

his arm stretches over, yawn racking through his body as he scrolls through his lockscreen, vision blurry with sleep, ignoring the insta tags and messages in the frat chat.

however he reads the message from toji.

call me when you’re free.

sukuna licks his lips, rubbing his eyes as he scrolls to his gramps.

when are you coming home???

gramps said today or tomorrow?!

I wanna show you the new haunted house nobara was telling me!!

HELLO

HELLO

HELLO

HELLLLLOOOOO

It’s Saturday why are you not answering???

sukuna sighs removing his other arm wrapped around you to reply to his brother. what time is it?

you shift quietly beside him.

sukuna continues flicking through his messages, brow furrowing. a banking alert flashes across his screen — choso’s account. incoming wire transfer completed.

“the fuck?” sukuna’s eyes snap open. the sender’s name making his blood run cold.

ACH CREDIT — $1,500.00

Sender: Kaori Kamo Holdings LLC

Posted to Choso’s Checking •••4877

what the fuck?!

sukuna immediately blows his lid, ripping the sheets off him as he storms out of the bedroom. his fingers already pressing the his home’s line, waiting for the ring until the phone suddenly picks up.

“RYO! ARE YOU ON YOUR WAY—“

“yuuji—“

“megumi is sleeping over, so i can totally show you the new video game too. megumi thinks he’s better than me, but I’ve been letting him win—“

“don’t lie,” megumi interrupts in the background.

sukuna tsks, shoving his shirt on as he pulls he buckles his jeans. “yuuji zip it for a sec!”

yuuji goes silent.

sukuna moves the phone to his ear, shoving his wallet in his pocket. “where was choso today?”

“all you ever ask me anymore is choso this, choso that,” the eleven year old grumbles, obviously sulking, no longer interested in talking.

“yuuji,” the older grits, frustration bubbling as theories start floating in his mind. why the fuck did you wire transfer choso money? is this some power play? she hasn’t contacted him in weeks, is she scaring him? rubbing it in his face that she can access choso through money?

yuuji huffs through the speaker, “he just woke up. he was sleeping all morning—cho!”

…

“CHOO!”

“WHAT?!” the loud bark of the middle child resounds through the speaker, quietly easing the knots that have already formed in sukuna’s shoulders.

“see,” yuuji shifts his attention back to sukuna.

sukuna slips his shoes on. not batting a single eye at the chaotic state he’s leaving your apartment. unfortunately for him, his mind is quickly consumed with thoughts of his brother, that he’s unable to process how he’s leaving things for the summer with you…

“was he home all of yesterday?”

“no. he went to school, duuuuhhhh—“

the vein snaps in sukuna’s neck.

“yuuji.”

sukuna audibly hears yuuji gulp on the other line, sulking once again. “he was in the garage with his band. then gramps came home tired so they went to ino’s place to practice.”

“ino?”

yuuji hums, “yeah. he’s choso’s friend from like middle school. he’s really really funny, and is part of cho’s band.”

a boy with a beanie loosely comes to mind, but sukuna remains focused, exiting your building. it really is almost two in the afternoon, streets quietly bustling with saturday lunch plans. “what time did he get back home?”

yuuji groans on the other line, “I don’t know maaan, jus’ ask him yourself. I’m bored.”

sukuna tsks, frustrations bubbling up again, “get him on the phone.”

“choso!” yuuji shouts, earning a loud scold from the middle child, and sukuna ripping the phone from his ear, “ryo wants to talk to you!”

“tell him he can suck. my. ass!” choso shouts.

another veins snaps in sukuna’s neck.

“he said you can suck his—“

“I heard him,” sukuna snaps. fucking teenagers. he inhales sharply, going down the subway. “I’m coming tomorrow morning.”

“WHAA?? I thought you said today,” yuuji whines.

sukuna runs a hand through his hair, completely unaware of the women that ogle him as he hops on the train. “I got busy this morning and I still need pack.”

“but—“

“I’ll talk to you later. call me if choso leaves the house,” sukuna hangs up.

the sound of choso’s movie plays in the background, while megumi eats beside yuuji on the counter. yuuji quietly stares his plate as the phone rings.

“you okay?” megumi looks over at him, french fry hanging from his mouth.

yuuji hangs the phone, biting his cheek as he sulks further in his seat. “he never asks how I’m doing anymore,” he mumbles.

sukuna likes to pretend he has control over everything. at least he tries his hardest to make everyone think that. however, it doesn’t always come out as control when he has a temper as short as his.

the moment the frat came into view he should’ve known.

his neck cracked as he walked up the trash littered front lawn. his shoulders rolled back, muscles popping from the long sleep as he stepped into the house, covered in a layer of spilled beer, red solo cups, and other trash. but his final straw was walking up the stairs, and turning just a fraction to spot his bedroom door ajar.

his blood runs cold.

he’d stormed out without warning last night, leaving everything behind. had he forgotten to lock his bedroom door before the party started.

his steps were loud and heavy, blood pumping in his ears as he crossed the hallway. if he finds a single fucking cum splatter, or condom on his bed, he’s punching another hole in the wall. unfortunately, sukuna now regrets thinking either of those results. instead he’s frozen at the doorframe, eyes blood red with anger as he sees a familiar set of long black hair laying on his bed.

the smell hits first, the stale perfume, sweat, alcohol, something sour that doesn’t belong to him. it crawls up his throat. his jaw locks so tight it aches.

yorozu is sprawled across his sheets like she owns them, tangled in his soccer jersey, bare thigh thrown over the blanket, panties riding up, and his pillow tucked under her arm. a naked pledge-recently turned member lays on the floor is facedown and dead to the world, breathing loud, one of sukuna’s hoodies twisted under his head like a trophy. for half a second the scene doesn’t register as real — just an insult assembled out of the worst possible outcome.

the the heat detonates.

the door SLAMS open the rest of the way, wood cracking against the wall so hard the frame shudders. the sound is violent enough to shake the posters. yorozu jolts upright with a gasp, hair wild, blinking into the light, and when she sees him, the color drains from her face.

sukuna doesn’t move at first. that’s what makes it worse.

he stands there breathing slow and huge through his nose, shoulders stretched tight, veins raised in his forearms, eyes burned dark and sharp enough to cut. his hands flex once. twice. like he’s deciding whether to grab someone or the furniture.

“what,” he says quietly, voice scraped raw, “is this.”

not loud. not shouting, but that low, controlled tone that means the explosion he’s chosen only delayed.

the pledge stirs at the sound and groans. wrong move. sukuna’s gaze snaps down to him with open contempt, then back to yorozu, who is doing anything but moving from her spot, eyes wide, and doing her best to subtly fix her hair. Sukuna doesn’t bat an eye. he’s already stepping forward, each footfall deliberate, the floorboards creaking under the weight of it. the air in the room feels thinner, preparing for the inevitable.

he takes one step toward the bed — and something on his desk catches in his peripheral vision.

the black envelope. split open and shifted from where he left it. the edge of the paper inside no longer tucked clean.

his stare cuts to it, then back to yorozu. the calculation is instant. she’s seen it.

that alone nearly snaps the leash on his temper.

he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t posture. he just moves fast enough that she barely has time to inhale before his hand closes around her bicep in an iron clamp. no hesitation, no gentleness, fingers digging in as he yanks her off the mattress in one brutal pull. the sheets rip loose with her.

she yelps, stumbling, she tries to twist toward him with that same cloying tone, already starting to explain, to perform.

“wait— sukuna, listen, I was just—”

his leg swings out without even looking and connects with the pledge’s ribs, not full force, but hard enough to knock the air out of him and roll him across the floor.

“up,” sukuna barks, voice lethal. “get the fuck out of my sight.”

the pledge scrambles, half-awake and absolutely terrifyingly mortified. he grabs at the scattered clothes and crawls more than standing as he bolts for the door.

yorozu tries to anchor herself, nails catching in sukuna’s wrist, leaning into him instead of away, still trying to make it intimate, like this is a lovers’ quarrel instead of a removal. he doesn’t even look at her face. he just drags her, across the room, past the desk, past the open envelope she absolutely touched, deaf to the whining pitch of his name.

“sukunaa, you’re hurting me,” she whines.

“good,” he says flatly, hauling her into the hallway.

“you’re being dramatic! I came to talk to you—and you weren’t even here!!— you’re mad I slept with someone else, right? you have no right to be jealous, who are those girl’s clothes in your room? do you have a girlfriend? why weren’t you at the party last night—you’re not even going to be here in the summer because you’re going to— ahh!” yorozu is slammed into the wall. her face pales as sukuna towers over her with bloodshot eyes. his red irises violently cut through her like she’s some bug on the bottom of his shoe.

“you psycho bitch. when is it going to get through your thick skull that I can’t stand you, huh? I spelled it out for you and ya still break into my room, go through my shit, and where my fucking clothes after getting fucked like a stupid whore—“

“you gave me the passcode to your room—“

“I don’t give the code to any slut I sleep with. and you’re a fucking sleazy whore that bribed that dipshit of a freshman to give it to you in exchange for sex. I’m not fucking dense like you,” he snaps coldly, unbothered by the tears that immediately well up on her waterline.

“you said you wanted to spend time with me outside of parties! but you just had sex with me and ghosted! you’re the disgusting one!” she shouts in his face, tears already breaking, waking the house. gojo steps in from the front door followed by geto. the two coming back from the gym, immediately overhearing the shouting at the top of the stairs.

“you hit on me!” he shouts, his eyes are blown blood red, his fist tightens around his jersey instead of her arm, squeezing the material as he crowds her space. “fucking does qualify for anything else. you sucked me off and I fucked you as a drunk courtesy,” anger seeps from his pores, getting angrier the more he speaks, his blood pumping viciously as she scoffs loud.

“doesn’t qualify for anything else — so what’s all the shit in your room. you keep your sluts panties and shirts as trophies like some sick pervert?”

“at least I can stand her outside of sex,” he snaps, unaware of how quick he defended his sex buddy. quickly imagining you this morning sucking his cock, stroking his hair, kissing his neck. “and when she fucking talks I don’t feel like stabbing my ears.”

“she she she—“ yorozu cracks, eyes wide and psychotic. “it’s that bitch from the party? utahime iori’s friend right? you know how much I hate her and you’re sleeping with her friend now—“

“you’re not listening to me!” sukuna losses it. his eyes are manic. as if the the universe is cursing him, yorozu throws her arms around his shoulder, getting closer to him. “what the fuck—“

“she’s not your girlfriend right? the guys were telling me she wasn’t—“ her face draws closer. obvious she’s attempting to seduce him.

sukuna tsks, loud and sharp. aggressively shoving her off him as he steps back, “fucking obsessed,” he spits with contempt. but her face contorts manically. desperate. it was easy reading as psycho, especially one as fake as an influencer like her:

“I’m going to spain too!” she interrupts, clawing at anything. however, his blood spikes, eyes flashing as an unknown expression crosses his face. if he wasn’t intimidating before, now he looked like he would snap her neck if she utters one more word, and that isn’t an exaggeration.

however, yorozu’s highly problematic obsession with the infamous short-tempered soccer captain is what makes her dangerous. her obsession started their second year when he was named captain of the division one team and easily ranked in the top ten then top six players in the nation. his reputation growing every season, as did her following and advertisements. it only made sense that they should be a couple.

but her courting was another level.

one that involved rumors. threats. any possible road that would lead to interacting with the fratboy. however, even after two full years, the man could not stand her. he couldn’t fall for her charms, her reputation, or her body—

“why can’t you give me a chance?! I’m the one stooping down to your level. some frat guy that fucks anything that walks— you let women and men fuck themselves on your disgusting cock — what haven’t you had sex with? you’re the pig here! you’re lucky I even talk to you!” her chest is heaving, eyes manic as her face scrunches glancing over his clothes. “and you smell like another fucking whore too.”

sukuna’s breathing is slow and heavy, shoulders tense as he rolls his neck back. he turns away, heading back to his room.

another vein snaps in yorozu’s neck.

“what the fuck?! I’m talki—“

her breath hitched. heart dropping to her ass. sukuna’s gaze snaps over his shoulder. muscles taunt under his shirt, fists clenching as his jaw locks.

the hallway warped around him.

yorozu has crossed the line before, but she’d never admit to be absolutely terrified of the man. but in this moment, she felt like a single misstep would end her life. literally.

she swallows a thick lump. cautious. unaware of the way her hands are trembling and goosebumps break out across her body, hairs standing up in the back of her neck.

then his voice cuts through. low, cold, violent.

“know your place before you speak about mine.”

her face pales, tears cascading in a mixture of fear and frustration.

“say one word about that envelope and I bury you with it. and take my fucking jersey off before I rip it off you. you look stupid pretending you belong in it,” sukuna spits.

yorozu’s face is red with humiliation. shivering as she fidgets with the hem of the oversized jersey. sukuna disappears into his room, returning with her dress and purse in hand, tossing them at her feet. yorozu blinks up at him as she watches him cross his arms over his broad chest, jaw locked as he leans against his doorframe with disinterest.

he doesn’t need to repeat himself.

yorozu can feel gojo and geto’s eyes on her back, standing at the top of the stairs, watching.

“can i change in the bathro—“

“strip.”

her heart skips a beat, face and neck red, hesitating for a second before she grabs the hem of the jersey and lifts it over her head. her bare breasts touch the warm air, nipples pink and perky. her cheeks flush, is he looking at me? he wanted to see my tits.

the jersey drops to the floor as she picks up her dress, making subtle show of bouncing her bare breasts…i got the surgery over winter break for him. it’s subtle and definitely healed by now, he notices how much bigger they are—

her heart drops.

red humiliation breaks across her body. glancing up through her lashes, she notices sukuna scrolling on his phone. not a sliver of his attention directed at her. a level of disinterest and inconvenience encompasses his entire body language. he doesn’t care for her.

her lips purse, anger and humiliation bubbling up as she quickly pulls her dress on, snatching her purse up as she whips around.

the athlete finally glances up. his eyes flick to the two men pressing their backs against the wall of the stairs allowing the sorority president to storm towards them and down the stairs.

“enjoy the show?” she snaps, anger out in the open.

gojo and geto shrug, “not much to see, sweetheart,” gojo shrugs.

she scoffs loudly, storming down the stairs, angry tears bubbling out. the front door slams behind her.

gojo and geto shift their attention. sukuna types on his phone, still leaning against the doorframe, unbothered. he briefly glances up, dead eyes flicking at the two before going back to his phone. “what?”

gojo pushes off the wall, headphones around his neck, as glances at his friend. “you left pretty angry last night.”

“and you let this psycho fuck some pledge in my room,” sukuna snaps, glaring up at the blue eyed man.

“i dunno how she got in man, we barely let any of the pearl girls in so how was i supposed to know she went to your room?” gojo defends. “and we don’t have any pledges, they’re members now.”

“not him,” sukuna cuts flatly, “revoke his membership.”

“that’s kinda fucked up, man. they went through hell this semester—“

sukuna shrugs, disinterested, “don’t care.”

geto’s eyes narrow, gaze flicking over him. “so you guys made up?”

sukuna’s gaze snaps up, alarmed, “fuck no. fucking psychotic bitch is what she is—“

“no not yorozu,” geto shakes his head, then utters your name. the two notice how the tatted man suddenly goes quiet. his gaze falling to his phone as he gives a casual shrug and nod. “so what now?”

sukuna’s brows furrow, glancing up at the raven haired man. “what d’you mean what?”

gojo’s now furrowing his brow as geto gives him a incredulous look which he reciprocates. geto bites the bullet, “well are you dating now?”

sukuna’s eyes blow wide. real shock written all over his face. then he scoffs, loud and untamed. “what?” he laughs, “we fuck. we made up so the deal’s still on.”

“what?!” gojo and geto shout in union.

sukuna’s brow lifts higher looking between the two. “you guys fucked in the head? I’m not saying this shit for the hundredth time. we’re not fucking dating—“

“you always sleep over there and she sleeps here?” gojo snaps, trying to find the missing piece here.

sukuna gives them a very derogatory so what? face. “we’ve all let girls sleep over—“

“not you,” geto jabs, irking the man as he glares at his friend. “plus that fight you guys had…”

“and we made up. she’s the one that wants the deal to keep going. and her libido is insane—“

“so you do wanna date her!” gojo jams a finger in his direction, laughing loudly. “oh shit! she reject you or something?—“

sukuna’s eyes roll to the back of his skull, “I didn’t say that, dipshit,” he snaps, “we agreed together. it’s fucking equal ass partnership. she’s just sensitive to drama, which whatever, it’s that psychos fault anyways,” sukuna quietly gets riled up at the memories of your argument. yorozu seeming to be the core of it all…albeit, you weren’t in a good mood when you came to the party either.…should he have asked about your meeting last week? his jaw clenches in thought.

“whatever, man,” geto shakes his head, walking towards his room as he peels his sweaty shirt off. “call coach, he’s been tryna get ya all morning.”

gojo waits for a moment, studying his friend before tipping his head to the side, “so are you not gonna tell us what you decided about the invitation?”

sukuna scowls, jaw tense.

“geto is still waiting, but I’m planning on taking him with me in a couple weeks to see the grounds there,” gojo isn’t really an idiot. he’s more calculating than people like to give him credit for, or it could be they don’t see it because of how charismatic he comes off as. that can’t be said for his two closest friends though. sukuna can see right through his bullshit, the man just wanted to pry more information out of him.

“stay out of my business, satoru,” sukuna spits coldly.

gojo scoffs, “you get so fucking defensive. is it so hard to think that your friends are happy for you. we all know how much you’ve been wanting this invitation after….” gojo realizes immediately that he shouldn’t have resurfaced that.

he lit the match on a open wound.

“you don’t know single fucking thing, so fuck off!”the slam echoes down the hallway like a gunshot, the frame shuddering under the force of it. a second later something else crashes inside —wood against wall, maybe his desk chair— hard enough that the vibration travels through the floorboards.

On the other side of the door, sukuna doesn’t move at first. his chest is heaving too fast, air cutting in sharp through his nose, like he just came off a sprint. his fingers flex once, twice, tendons standing out, like he’s deciding whether to break something else. the word after is still ringing in his skull. it’s not what came after, but what came before. the crash….the spiral… all of it chained together whether he likes it or not.

he drags both hands down his face slow and hard, like he can physically wipe the past. his blood pumps loudly, he hates how fast it got to him.

outside, gojo doesn’t knock again. he doesn’t joke or push it.

inside, sukuna stands in the wrecked silence of his own room. his is jaw locked, eyes burning. he’s not furious at gojo, not even at the words. but he’s bubbling with anger at the fact that one unfinished sentence still has the power to drag him straight back to his seventeen year old self.

…….

sukuna’s muscles are pulled tight. his high school soccer teammates laughed loudly around him. his best friend, kashimo, had his arm thrown over the seventeen year old, cackling loudly.

“man! if sukuna got that red card we all would’ve been so fucked!” kashimo barks, the entire team laughing as they sit outside the town’s hot spot, the corner-side diner and shops. other kids that watched the game were all packed around eating ice cream and fries, as the mood lit up the night sky.

sukuna and his team sat around the outdoor table chomping down burgers.

“what’s up with you? you’re so quiet after barking like a dog on the pitch,” one teammates points at sukuna. the rest glancing at the salmon haired kid. his face has been in prominent scowl since they left the game. his eyes are sharp, glaring at the idiot that looked at them. his teammates nervously laughs, as another pitches in.

“did you see that kid on the other team! that gojo was insane. no wonder they were hyping him up all fucking season, that match would not have been good if it wasn’t for him. he’s a fucking genius,” one kid gushes.

sukuna scoffs, rolling his eyes, “he lost. why’re you hyping him up?”

the team’s laughter dulls, glancing at kashimo, who seemed to be the only one that’s gotten close to the toxic player.

kashimo throws his arm over sukuna, head thrown back, “he’s right! he was talking all the way leading up to our match and losses in the end!”

sukuna’s deathly quiet. the table quickly gets louder as the team jokes and talks about their plans. they have another a few weeks until graduation, but a majority of the team is heading going to college, except for two…

“wait so when are you guys moving? I can’t believe two people from our team got into the under twenty club team— you have to get us vip tickets when you get to the World Cup!” a teammate shouts, as kashimo smiled widely.

“it’s a trail contract for now, but we’re definitely getting into the team—“

sukuna suddenly stands up. the team look at him with confused faces as he walks off.

kashimo is quick to brush off the team as he sprints after his friend, alone.

“woah,” he laughs, halting in a steady walk when he reaches the boy. “not even gonna call me?”sukuna gives his friend one glance. while the two disappear in a direction familiar to them, the team is left at the table watching and frowning.

“we’ve played with him for four fucking years and he’s still gonna treat us like his servants,” one scoffs, flipping a french fry to the ground. “he wouldn’t have gotten that invitation if we didn’t pass him the ball—“

“he’s a dick.” and the team just piles on all the horrible things sukuna has done and put them through. “he’s got suspended and put on probation a million times. how the fuck did that not deter any recruiters?”

“he’s a good player, that’s all that matters,” one tsks, rolling his eyes as he remembers sukuna being allowed to participate in a game during nationals even though he was suspended. the coach went behind the schools back to do it and was willing to take the heat for it after, all because whenever his star athletes, sukuna and kashimo, were on the field, then his name was always in people’s mouths too.

“I’m surprised he’s such a psycho when his dad is a fucking psychiatrist,” one adds, the others hum. “the call’s coming from inside the house.”

another senior scoffs again, “good things happen to bad people. this is just another example.” this line sours the mood as the entire team grows envious of the biggest and most important opportunity of a young player’s career, and it falling right in sukuna’s lap. how can someone be so lucky.

“isn’t his mom’s psycho too though?”

the team shrugs, murmurs spreading around. “dunno, he never talks about her, and I’ve only ever seen her a few times, and today was one of them.”

“yeah, he doesn’t even look like her, but damn,” one laughs, “my mom was telling me how she’d seen his mom in a few commercials a couple years ago. pretty sure she used to be an actress or something.”

“yeah, I’ve heard that before. but she looked drunk at the game today. I never noticed her, but she was acting like a crazy lady in the stands during halftime then stormed off,” one recalls, as others chime in about the rumors that surround sukuna’s home life. specifically his mom.

“my younger sister is in his brothers class in elementary school, so my mom’s seen his mom a few times. she just tells my sister to stay away from him and says his grandfather is more normal than the mom,” another adds.

it didn’t matter how long sukuna spent somewhere. he knew the rumors people would whisper behind his back. all of it made it easier for him to be an asshole (as if that was his excuse). at the end of the day, he’ll come out on top. he’s better than his step-mom, his school, his town— all of it is beneath him. including his shit dad—

sukuna laughs loudly, the alcohol burning a line down his throat as he exhales through his nose. the night is thick with heat, the kind that sticks to the skin. crickets grind in the grass beyond the field fence, and the stadium lights behind them have finally gone dark, leaving only the parking lot glow and the distant hum of traffic.

sukuna and kashimo had made their way back to the empty pitch after grabbing a four pack. sukuna’s sweater is half zipped, hood on while his jersey is damp with dried sweat underneath. his hair still messy from the match, from the argument he walked away from without looking back.

kashimo sits on the curb beside him, long legs stretched out, can dangling loose between his fingers. “you realize,” he says, smirking sideways, “half the grade is suddenly into soccer now that we got scouted. they all showed up tonight.”

“they’re into attention,” sukuna mutters. “they don’t even know the rules.”

kashimo snorts. “didn’t stop them from screaming your name.” he recalls, “there was one on the left. the girl that never talks in calc? she looked like she was gonna faint.”

sukuna scoffs, rolling his neck. “they jus’ like guys that win games. that’s it.” he takes another sip, already feeling tipsy from one can. “same ones wouldn’t look twice last year.”

“please,” kashimo says. “you fucking mess with them on purpose.”

sukuna doesn’t deny it, he just smirks into the can.

they drift into lazy, mean humor. ranking couples they know won’t last, poking fun at classmates who suddenly started dressing different to get asked to the prom, like that’ll grab the jocks attention. joking about how their history teacher definitely favors the guys that flirt with her more. it’s crude, unserious.

a warm breeze cuts through, carrying the smell lf distant fryer oil from the late-night diner and shops down the road. sukuna leans back on his hands, staring at the empty sky above the field lights, pulse still half in the game, half in the future everyone keeps talking about like it’s already decided. and it drags him right back to halftime.

his blood had still been roaring with adrenaline then. sweat dripping off his jaw, chest heaving, fingers curled tight around the water bottle as he chugged half of it in one go. the locker room door had been propped open to the tunnel for air, the roar of the crowd still rolling like thunder overhead. coach was barking adjustments. someone was laughing too loud. tape was being rewrapped around his ankle.

and once they came onto the pitch, again. warming up. the shouting cut through it. not cheering, not chanting—screaming. it was sharp, unhinged, and it sliced clean through the stadium noise.

his eyes snapped up instinctively, predator-fast, scanning toward the stands. players around him started turning toward the same disturbance. you could feel the ripple of everyone’s attention bending in one direction.

then there it was, three sections up, kaori was on her feet, face twisted, arm jabbing downward toward where his father sat beside her.

“you think this fixes anything?!” she screamed. her voice carried, horribly, and impressively across the crowd noise. “you fucking parading him around like some golden child won’t erase what he is! how many times do I have to tell you! are that incapable for caring for me of giving me your attention!!”

people around her recoiled. a couple stepped away.

his father looked mortified, reaching for her wrist, trying to lower her arm, trying to sit her down. calm voice. always calm.

“not here,” his dad said, sukuna could read it off his lips even from the pitch. “please.”

but she yanked free and got louder, eyes wild,

“begging me for what? to care about his game now? you’re pathetic. both of you are pathetic!”

a wave of murmurs spread through the rows. phones started lifting. teammates beside sukuna went quiet. one of them muttered, “yo… is that—”

sukuna’s stomach turned. it wasn’t embarrassment. no, it was something colder and sour. disgust curling up his throat.

his father didn’t fight back. didn’t snap. didn’t walk away. he just kept trying to soothe her. his hands open, posture small, like she was the one wronged, like she was the one owed any patience. that was the part sukuna couldn’t stand.

fuck the screaming and fuck the spectacle. he’s thrown a million fights publicly, he could careless about the optics. but what he couldn’t stomach was witnessing the submission. the way his dad absorbed the humiliation like it was his fucking job.

the whistle blew to call players back and the noise swelled again. the moment dissolved into the games chaos. but the image stayed burned behind sukuna’s eyes. her mouth twisted, his father apologizing for something he didn’t do and that rage followed him straight back onto the field, and after.

it was his day. his last game. his fucking win.

and still he brought her. still he told him he had to go find her after she vanished mid-match, like managing her public breakdown mattered more than watching his eldest son finish what could’ve been the best game of his life. he’d looked sukuna dead in the eye and picked the woman who humiliated him in public without hesitation, or shame.

“women are fucking psychos,” sukuna mutters, voice flat and bitter.

kashimo glances over, brow lifting as he watches sukuna crush the can in one hand, metal folding with a sharp crack before it hits the pavement. “isn’t that what makes them hot?” he smirks.

sukuna scoffs. there’s nothing hot about being degraded by a lunatic. his jaw tightens. or having two kids with her.

they start down the main street with loose steps and warm faces, alcohol humming low in their veins. the night air sticks to their skin, neon signs flickering across the storefront glass. a few people pass by them going the opposite direction, shouting congratulations when they notice their jerseys.

then the crowd appears. too dense and still. people are packed along the sidewalk ahead, phones raised, voices talking over each other. something is very wrong. red and blue lights wash out the buildings.

the alcohol fog clears in a snap.

a car is violently rammed into the side of truck at the intersection. the car’s front end crushed like paper, hood peeled back, windshield spiderwebbed and caved. one door is sheared half off. glass litters the street. the engine block is exposed and torn.

kashimo keeps talking for another half-second, then stops at the sight of the accident. his breath catches, mind toggling for a moment before, “yo…” he says, quieter now, trying to place what he’s seeing. “…isn’t that your dad’s car?”

he glances at his friend standing beside him—

sukuna is ghost-white. completely still. eyes wide, unblinking, like the world has dropped out from under him. his fingers hang slack at his sides, knuckles scraped, lips parted with no sound coming out.

he knew the second he saw the color. the dent in the side panel. the stupid dealership sticker still clinging to the bumper. he knew before the question was asked.

a/n: guys like don’t get mad at me ab the spelling/grammar, ik it’s ass so forgive me. I really did my best to post this chapter before ramadan, and I didn’t want to make it a waste so I really focused on plot. sorry you guys waited longer for this one tho, I’ve just been crazy swamped with work, I haven’t even seen the new episode of jjk or knight of the seven kingdoms 💔💔 anyways i really hope u guys liked the chapter <3

Sighing as you found yourself standing outside his room, pausing to peek through the now cracked window, watching Sukuna sitting on his too-small bed, back against the concrete wall with his muscled arms folded across his chest, completely fucking naked as his furry ears bristled in irritation. 

He was attractive, annoyingly so, enough to remind you every time you saw him why the hybrid population kept increasing every year, but you as quick as the thought floated up, you shoved it back down. 

You knocked twice on the door before scanning your card again, peeking inside before stepping in, feeling his stare on you before you looked up at the man of the hour. Or well, tiger of the hour. 

“Took you long enough,” he tch-ed, a low growl escaping his throat as he sauntered to his feet. 

“What did you do this time?” You wryly asked, nose scrunching up as you let your eyes scan the rest of his room. Someone must have tried to toss some toys in, as if he was a cub instead of fully grown, the remains of a plush mouse scattered across the floor. 

“The blonde tried to bathe me,” he indignantly scoffed, head held proudly up. You were tempted to tell him that he had a perfectly good bathroom already attached to his room – complete with a shower and tub he could use to wash himself, if he wasn’t so high and mighty to insist on being babied. Or, according to his perspective, treated like the king of this place he frequently insisted he hated so much.

You exhaled, shutting your eyes for just a second to massage your temples in an attempt to stall the headache brewing behind them only to open them and find him standing six inches away. Looking down at you. 

“I told her you’re the only one that can touch me,” he muttered, low and almost lethal. His hand reached out to skim over your bicep, barely touching but still enough for you to feel the pressure behind his fingertips. “She sent in the fucking vet to try to sedate me.” 

“And how did that go?” You sarcastically asked, as if you didn’t have a pretty decent inkling. 

“Well, they called you, didn’t they?” He sharply retorted, cocking his head to the side, jaw clenched as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. 

He got what he wanted. 

And you got to scrub a ridiculously oversized man in a tub for twenty minutes while he complained about not having enough bath salts, rubbing a sponge over his ridiculously ripped back muscles as he muttered about how awful everyone else here was. Grumbling with gritted teeth while your hands ran over his spine, damp sleeves rolled up over your elbows as you traced shapes along his strong arms, his slightly musky scent still invading your nostrils no matter how much soap you used. 

It wasn’t bad, even if it was strong. 

All masculine and warm, whatever pheromones he was putting off having a funny effect on your head the longer you knelt so close to him, sighing as you reached into the water and pulled up the drain. 

“Bath time’s over,” you muttered softly, standing up and grabbing a thick towel to hold out for him, making a point to not look past the thick patch of his happy trail when he wrapped it around his waist, even if you couldn’t not notice the way his damp tail dripped water behind him after he got out. 

“Where are you goin’?” He growled when you started to walk back out, his claws poking out in protest as your hand paused just before you could scan your key card to get out.

“Home,” you muttered. “You better have some clothes on when I come back.” 

The shelter sure spent fucking enough on custom robes big enough to fit him. 

He snarled, two seconds from making a snide comment, but you slipped out before he could. 

You were ready to crawl back into your own bed, curl up and get some sleep, maybe message your boss before you passed out that you’d be a little late in the morning since you had to come in overnight. Let yourself get an extra hour or two of rest before you had to deal with him again. 

Except, uh, your boss was already waiting for you in the lobby, Yaga leaning back against the receptionist desk and grimacing at the fluorescent lights as you stopped and stared. 

“Is everything okay?” You blinked a few times, just for him to fix you in a solemn stare.

And still, while your brain scrambled to come up with a reason for him being here too, you didn’t expect what left his mouth now as he jutted his thumb in the direction you came from. 

“Do you think you could foster him?” 

No. No, there was no way-

Except, um, apparently, there was a way when they offered you a hefty bonus and a few days off, and Shoko slipped a strong sedative in his breakfast so you could transfer him from his room back to your place – which you promptly had to Sukuna proof. 

You expected him to throw a fit when he eventually woke up, to try and break through your front door and escape. 

But he just sniffed the air slowly before he even lazily opened up his dark eyes to glance around your apartment, a crooked smile curling up as he centered his stare on you. 

“So I’m your problem now?” 

Was it too late to take him back? 

Trade in your annoying tiger hybrid for a fluffy housecat? 

In your personal experience, all felines were funny in that they could listen perfectly fine – they just didn’t care. 

And Sukuna was no exception. 

Shredding your curtains when you went out without telling him, sinking his sharp teeth into your pillows after you made him floss between them, turning your couch into his personal little nest and dragging your clothes from your closet into it. Judging the comfort of your blankets and commenting on how boring it was being here, acting like he’d rather be back at the shelter as he ate half the food in your fridge in a few hours. 

He was insufferable and spoiled and a million other awful adjectives you could assign him, but it wasn’t totally terrible to come home from your shifts to someone warm. Who’d begrudgingly let you scratch behind his ears and stroke his pretty, pink hair. You took him to the park as much as you could, ignoring the pointed stares you’d receive and the people who muttered that he should have a muzzle on while he begrudgingly stayed by your side. 

It wasn’t like you had a backyard he could stretch his limbs or lounge in. 

And two months in, you hadn’t exactly envisioned starting off your mornings with fur in your mouth and the weight of a full-grown man on your chest, but you guessed there were worse things. 

You might even miss him when all this came to an end, which, according to the text message you woke up to from Yaga, might be sooner than you think. Some rich guy had apparently called asking about him, claiming he owned thirty acres of land he used to house exotic hybrids and wanted to add Sukuna to his collection. 

Now you just had to figure out how to tell him that he might have a new owner. 

You tried to sneak over to the bathroom after carefully extracting yourself from underneath him, bare feet padding out while you glanced over your shoulder at the slumbering mass in your bed, a little bit of drool leaking down his lips as he snored on your pillow. 

He almost looked peaceful like this. 

As if you hadn’t gotten back from work last night to discover a stash of your panties underneath the daybed he’d currently taken over in your spare room. And the, um, dried substance they seemed to be coated in you’d desperately been trying not to think too hard about. 

Okay, perhaps he was closer to a perverted roommate than a pet. 

But you couldn’t scrub out the guilt that seemed to cling to your skin in the shower, hot water running over your body as you sighed to yourself and debated on how you’d break the news when he had started to settle in here. 

At least there he’d be able to have the space he needed, time outdoors, probably better nutrition than what you could afford to keep in your fridge and pantry, even with the added provisions your work provided for him. He was about as antisocial as it came – but there might be other hybrids there that he could actually stand being around. Closer to his spot on the food chain instead of the other ones he usually sneered down at. 

His new owner might even treat him like the king he thought he was. 

The shower curtain was abruptly pulled back, your arm rushing to cover up your tits, but his eyes were just on yours, his sharp nose scrunched up in a familiar scowl as he grunted good morning, his clothes already stripped off as he stepped in after you. 

“What is your problem?” You huffed at him, but he just yawned, toothpaste stuck to his bottom lip as he reached past you to grab the bottle of specialty hybrid shampoo you bought for him. 

“Didn’t you tell me yesterday we have to conserve water or some shit?” He grunted, lathering up his hair like his rock hard dick wasn’t out and poking you in the thigh. 

“I didn’t mean-” You started to groan, lips pressed together in a flustered frown. Swallowing hard as you struggled to keep your stare somewhere appropriate. You’d like to pretend your relationship was entirely platonic. That it fit perfectly in the boundaries of what it was supposed to. 

Where the only spot of your heart he occupied was pure. That the growing intimacy you’d been ignoring was innocent. 

It was getting a lot fucking harder to believe it when he felt more and more like a person to you every day. More human. 

“You were takin’ too long,” he added, moving over to bump his hip into yours to start hogging the hot water for himself. 

You stepped back, goosebumps trailing down your arms once you were out of the stream, holding your breath as you debated on ripping the bandaid off while he was washing himself for once. 

“Someone wants to buy you,” you heard yourself say, unsure of what emotion it was in your voice as he suddenly went still, tail twitching as his shoulders straightened. “Um, adopt, I guess.” 

He turned his head, just barely, enough for you to catch his nasty side-eye and locked jaw. 

“That’s not fucking funny,” he growled. 

“Yaga texted me,” you continued, careful to keep your tone steady. “Said some guy with a ton of acres wants to take you in. Guess he like, collects rare-” 

“No.” 

“No?” You incredulously repeated. “You can’t just-” 

“I’m not going to be some fucking breeding stock for an asshole who wants to stick me in an enclosure,” he declared, your mouth hanging open at the wild assumption he jumped to just from a couple sentences. 

“Who said anything about breeding?” You gaped, eyebrows arching up as you stopped yourself from stomping your foot. 

“You’re delusional if you don’t think that’s the only reason someone would want a problem hybrid like me,” he half-glared at you, molars grinding as you tried to come up with a reason to argue with him. 

“I-” You stopped yourself, blinking too hard and fast. 

“Tell them no,” he spat the word back out, thick brows furrowed together tightly as he shut off the water.