MC's observation makes Napoleon let out a quiet snort, the kind that is inevitably accompanied by a ruffling of her hair, an old habit of his. She recognizes it already as the gesture of adoration that it is, even if annoying, and refrains from fixing her messed-up hair as it hardly matters in the dark. Right, it has indeed gotten quite dark in the garret. Lost in chatter, neither of them seems to have noticed the last bits of daylight dying out to make way for a starlit sky. But now even the full moon has hidden behind a fluffy cloud, adding another layer to the darkness inside the garret. Napoleon takes a mental note to ask MC if she's scared of the dark. And then to use the excuse to give her a comforting cuddle. But not without teasing her about it first.

"I keep telling you, Nunuche, I'm not that old. I might have had an eventful life, but it all still feels like yesterday to me. Maybe that's because I've made a point of never forgetting these times."

Napoleon goes quiet for a bit. This principle of his goes hand in hand with the bitterness of regret; it lingers on his tongue. But he'd be a fool to poison such a pleasant conversation, so he thinks of a more light-hearted direction to drive it in.

"…Besides, few meals in life are worth remembering, anyway. You're good."

His ever-curious Nunuche makes a humming noise as soon as he throws in that bold claim. Even though it's dark, Napoleon can almost see her tilt her head, like a cute little puppy. His mind is already cleansed.

"Now I'm curious! Wait, let me think about mine, and you can think about yours in the meanwhile…"

"Sure, I'm sure it won't take you long."

"Napoleon!!"

It takes Napoleon everything not to give MC another hair ruffling. His grin is hidden in the darkness, and it remains on his face even after he sinks further into the pillow propped against the wall and begins reminiscing about the new topic.

What is food to him? In the aforementioned busy life of his, there has been little time for such mundanities - that’s it, at first thought. At second, it's something so fundamental in life that it naturally takes up a good chunk of it.

A colorful flash of memories floods his mind, all framed by a stark white plate. The dim and quiet room seems to sharpen his senses, and his imagination does a great job of even replicating the very taste of those memories…

***

Chestnut porridge. A deep frown spreading on his youthful face, eyes still heavy with sleep as the first disappointment of the day is already served in front of him. Chestnut porridge - again! To his left, there's Joseph, already gobbling his own meal like there's no tomorrow. When there surely is a tomorrow - one filled with even more porridge, that’s for sure. 

Ever since little Napoleone remembers himself - even if that's not a very long time -  he remembers the taste of chestnuts. It's all they eat, it seems. They are in the bread and they’re even in the deserts his mom surprises the family with for special ocassions.

Napoleone knows there's a good reason for that - he's heard about a million times now the tale of the old chestnut tree in the garden of their family home, under which he plays. Something about his grandparents taking pride in managing to save it when they were told to cut it down. He doesn't understand what could be so special about it when chestnut trees are everywhere in town. Apparently, there used to be even more of them back in the day, but something happened. He is not in a hurry to remember the details when he's sure to hear that story again sooner or later. And, besides, remembering about it doesn't help him gulp down his porridge any faster. 

To his right, there's his baby brother Lucian. He seems to have stalled eating, imitating his older sibling. Napoleone thinks about how much worse hunger is compared to porridge, and for the first time, he realizes he's the big brother now. 

There's also little Elisa, still in mother's belly. He will be sure to teach them to eat their meals! That's what big brothers do.

***

A dry piece of bread. At the table of an Emperor, there surely are bigger plaisirs de la bouche. Yet, Napoleon couldn't care less. He has things to do, places to go, and having a feast is the last thing on his mind. He's barely slept, again, and maybe that's half the reason he does things on auto pilot yet again. He could, at the very least, dip his bread into the rich and flavourful sauce of his poultry dish (those are all the talks lately, as gastronomy seems to reach new peaks day after day!) - but he doesn't. 

Or, perhaps, that's a deep-seated habit from his soldier days, which were not so long ago. The rations were hard to swallow back then, both in the figutive and in the literal sense.

 Upon coming to power, one of his first priorities were to feed his army better, and it led to innovations in food preservation. "An army marches on its stomach!", he likes to say, and upon making the observation that he fails to listen to his own words, all while being head of said army at that, he makes a promise to eat better.

***

Overcooked rice. Even though, at the time Napoleon is eating it, it's just rice - though he can tell there's something not quite right with it. But much later, when looking back to it, he'd remember it as the most overcooked rice that ever grazed his palate, the self-critic that he is.

But right now, it's just rice, the rice he made. Attempted to, anyway. This is all so new to him.

This reincarnation thing aside, cooking on its own is a whole new world for him. He's been so kindly housed by Le Comte, the last thing he wants to do is make himself even more of a parasite by requiring special service, seeing that his housemates don't have the same…erm, dietary needs as him. Interestingly, living with vampires has proved to be easier to get used to than living with himself, it seems, as he still hasn't found a very useful way to spend his time. This, right now, however - it feels like progress. He's alone in the kitchen just like he wanted to, and he's about to make his first meal… even if it costs him his (second) life. 

Why choose rice of all things? Recently, he had a change of heart when it comes to it. All his life, he's known rice to be this luxury food that was sometimes prepared for his imperial table, and like with other specialties, he had little interest in it. Knowing Le Comte's wealth, it was no surprise to find it at the noble's table as well. But prepared by the mansion's trustworthy butler Sebastian, rice has a new name. No longer the star of the plate, yet a thousand times more delicious; served the way it was meant to be eaten, Napoleon thinks.

And now, standing before his creation, he enthusiastically digs in. It tastes…pretty mild. But for once, he's taking his time. Paying attention to texture, saltiness, to those experimental spices he used and how the whole thing comes together. The strange trill of this new experience gradually calms down to a pleasant warmth residing within his belly. 

For the first time, he understands the power of a comfort meal.

***

Blood. Hot on his tongue; unexpectedly sweet. That's the first thing that gets him. The metalic, salty taste of blood, Napoleon thought, could be enjoyed only by a monster. Yet, as he helplessly drinks, and drinks, his body cares little about such philosophy. Morales make way for nature - in the same ugly way in which some species' offspring devour the body of its mother for survival. Awakening his vampiristic self feels a little bit like yet another rebirth for Napoleon. He has to start all over and accept himself yet again. But as he takes his full, looking at the eyes of his beloved who did this for him, warm and alive in his arms, same as Napoleon himself, he realizes nature is not so cruel if it finds a way for him, for them. He's sure he'll think a lot about this dreadful first taste of blood, but for the time being, he lets it be his life source just like any other food he had to gulp down for survival.

***

Wedding cake. White and fluffy whipped cream smeared on Nunuche's cheeks. Cutting the first piece of the wedding cake together with Nunuche. The surprise on Nunuche's face when it was first brought into the reception's hall, so tall and lavish and making Nunuche resemble a kid in a candy store, quite literally. Eating leftovers of wedding cake with Nunuche much, much later that night, tired from the long day; yet happy, so, so happy as Napoleon never felt before. And the taste… 

The taste of the cake, what was it, even?

***

Napoleon snaps from his deep thoughts. He feels a little embarassed to have spent so much time overthinking such a silly question, and thankfully, MC couldn't hear just how unnecessarily dramatic his inner monologue turned at one point. 

Even though, his most recent memories seem to be nothing of the kind. Every next meal he can think of is no more than a glimpse and a smile on his face. Nothing more and nothing less. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

There will surely be other meals to remember. A warm chicken soup to soothe a sick throat… Why not a few more cakes for good measure, to mark celebrations. The foreign and memorable taste of the dishes of some far-away country, once he finally embarks on his dream travels, together with Nunuche. Preparing baby food…

Napoleon’s face burns red.

"Whatever, Nunuche. I give up. When I think of food, I can't seem to think of anything else but the way you stuff your cute cheeks full,” he lies.

A second of silence is followed by a soft murmur.

Napoleon isn't sure how much time has passed, but MC seems to have fallen asleep in the meantime. As he scoots closer and pokes her cheek, but gently enough not to wake her up, he wonders if she's having any yummy dreams right now…

You knew that voice. You heard it plenty during the speeches he would give at festivals and events, or the times he’d visit the lower city and you caught a glimpse of him and the conversations he easily held with shop vendors and flustered children. You can practically feel his smothering presence, the heat dripping from his body making the room ten times hotter.

This could not be happening right now. As a servant of the palace, you were paid dearly and in return all you had to do was perform your duties with grace and timeliness. As well as upholding the number one rule that had been installed into you leading up to your first day: do not sully Firelord Zuko with your presence. You had broken all three expectations on your very first day. 

I’m definitely getting fired.

“It seems I've frightened you. Would you mind coming from under the bed? Your position isn’t leaving much to imagination. I fear for your honor.” He teases.

As if you suddenly remembered where you were, you quickly removed yourself from beneath the bed, undergarments still tucked in your hand and your heart now in your ass as you attempted to smooth down your kimono and avoided eye contact with the figure towering over you. 

“M-my Lord! I- please don’t be angry. I was only cleaning before you returned, I-I swear I was not snooping! I thought I had more t-time-”

You swallowed hard and squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the scolding from hell you knew would soon follow. You had heard all the rumors. That his majesty was quick to anger when inconvenienced, even if he had changed much from when he was a young boy. That he lacked tolerance for incompetence and had even fired someone for making his tea wrong, sending the young boy off in tears.

What would he do to you? You were caught in his private chambers, no less in a compromising position that left your virtue to question. Surely you’d be banished from the country, forced to leave your family behind and flee to the earth kingdom-

You shuffled to your knees and bowed until your head touched the ground and the only thing you could see was the red carpet beneath you. Tears pooled in your eyes and threatened to spill, humiliation eating at you like a parasite. 

“If you plan to dismiss me, please allow one of m-my sisters to work in my- my stead. My family won’t survive without-”

You’re cut off by the sound of a deep chuckle filling the room and your blush has covered your entire body at this point, the hair on your arms standing at full attention as goosebumps covered your skin and a tear slipped down your cheek. It wasn’t allowed but you could hardly stop yourself when a sound that angelic basically begged you to lift your head. 

You gasped at the sight of your firelord staring down at you, an amused look on his face as he crossed his arms behind his back and lifted a brow, thoroughly entertained as he fought against his rising grin. HIs golden eyes were practically glowing from the warm sun creeping through the drapes, dark bangs falling into his eyes, half blocking the scar on his left eye. 

He looked otherworldly. Like a god staring down on his devout worshipper, or a human peering at an ant, and it took all of your remaining strength to fight back the crude thoughts firing up from the sight of him hovering over you, snapping your head back to the ground. He was your ultimate superior, your firelord and you were a mere servant that was meant to neither be seen nor heard.

Your inner thoughts were indecent at best and treasonous at worst. You were far from his wife or even his concubine, and you’d do well to remember that. 

“I’m not sure why you think I am cruel enough to fire someone whose job it is to clean up after me. Might I ask where you got this idea that I’m my father?” 

Your eyes widened in horror, guilt rotting beneath your skin because you knew better than to believe in rumors but had quickly soaked up the ones pertaining to Zuko’s character and you had never met the man until this very moment. You had first hand witnessed his acts of kindness and yet..

“Forgive my misjudgment, Zu- my lord. My mother always did say my mouth would get me in trouble one day. I tend to spew nonsense when I am nervous, I mean no offense, It is merely gossip that is beneath you.”

The corner of his lip rises, but you don’t see that. 

“Hmm, I suppose people tend to grow imaginative when bored. Though you’ll do well to remember that it is beneath you too. Please lift your head from the ground lest you intend to become part of it.”

You were instantly rising, not needing to be told twice as your neck and back were growing stiff from the position. You sat on the back of your legs, knees still digging into the floor and your hands squeezing at the fabric that got you into this disaster, eyes locked on the dark red robes Zuko wore to avoid looking him in the eyes again.

If Amachiyo could see you right now..

“Do you have a name?”

You stammered it out, voice cracking in the process but if Zuko noticed he didn’t say anything. You kept your eyes fixed on his robes, stomach twisting and mind racing.

He let your name flow off his tongue so beautifully, dragging it out until your face was burning from the sound. “Is there a reason you refuse to look at me? Surely it can not be my looks. Sokka insists the scar makes me 'stupidly hot.' I confess I’m still not sure what temperature has to do with it.”

You ignore the last part of that comment, knowing what would come out of your mouth would be far from an appropriate thing for an unwed woman to say to any man that was not her own. “I am forbidden, my lord.” 

He simply grunts at that and steps closer, and your heart is thumping so hard that it hurts. You had never been this close to someone of great importance, let alone the firelord himself. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, so you opted for staying still and praying he’d dismiss you lest you embarrass yourself any further.

“Run along then little dove. We wouldn’t want you falling behind on your responsibilities, would we?”

Firelord Zuko was typically a very patient man, however innocent women like you were his guilty pleasure and you were driving him to the brink of insanity. He hadn’t seen you in the two weeks following that day he caught you under his bed, your ass in the air just begging to be fucked. 

He was exhausted from his duties and frustrated that you seemed to basically disappear from the palace. It was shameful how badly he wished to see you again, a jest that a mere servant held his thoughts in chains. Zuko thought you might have a secret ability to bend his mind to think of only you, and it was comical as he didn’t even get your name. 

He hadn’t slept with any of his concubines since meeting you, his thoughts always drifting back to the frightened maid. It made him feel guilty that he could no longer grow erect with other women, though he’d never leave them unsatisfied. Zuko was far from a selfish lover, even if he never wanted concubines in the first place, he always treated them well. 

His current problem? He hadn’t shared his bed in entirely too long and it was starting to mess with his head, making him grow resentful toward you as if you had done something by simply existing. 

Needless to say, dinner with his wife was going terribly, what with Zuko’s mood more rotten than it usually was. The clink of silverware against porcelain echoed through the dining hall and his duty sat across from him, regal as ever, her posture straight despite the late hour.

"You've hardly said a word."

Zuko looks up, annoyance evident on his face and he has to force himself to put his mask back in place. It wasn’t her fault that they had been basically forced to marry even if she betrayed him, but that fact didn’t make his reality any easier to accept. 

“What is there to say?” He doesn’t miss the way she clenches her jaw, he just doesn’t care so he doesn’t linger on it. 

“There’s always matter of state-“ 

“I just spent all day discussing matters of state.” 

His voice was clipped, harsh enough that he hoped to end the conversation but she could never just let things be. Be it at the dinner table or in the gardens with other men. 

“You seem distracted.” 

Zuko nearly scoffed at that. What a fucking hypocrite. In the early days of their marriage he had vowed to make an effort, even if neither of them wanted this. The clans thought it would be best if he took a wife from one of the bigger three and though he refused in the beginning, he eventually agreed as he was young and dumb, still struggling to keep the elders loyal to him when they had been fierce Ozai supporters. 

He regretted that the day he found her in the gardens with one of his guards in the late hours. It’s been years since then and still, they hardly speak to or see each other. Only when Zuko is forced to attend these tiring displays of union to keep everyone happy. 

It wasn’t that he would have minded her sleeping around. They were both young when they wed, in relationships with different people prior and hardly knew each other. The way he saw it was that if he could have concubines then she could have her own lovers too, only she broke him after agreeing to give their arranged marriage a chance and he had never been able to forgive her. 

Eventually he started sleeping with his concubines and that had been his life for the last eight years. He was fucking miserable. 

Zuko let his mind drift back to you, despite knowing he was playing a dangerous game. The way your eyes had widened when he caught you in his chambers, tears forming at the assumption you would be fired, had left him confused and upset that you thought so lowly of him. He had seen frightened servants before but none of them had lingered in his thoughts for weeks afterward. 

“Zuko.” 

Her voice pulled him back from his wandering mind. He let his fork drop onto his plate, appetite completely gone now and anger simmering through his body. She never talked this much, both of them having mutually agreed to not make this more than what was required to keep people from whispering.

“What?”

Her smile is false, sadness evident on her face and for a split second Zuko almost feels bad about the attitude he’d been giving her. Until the image of her bent behind a flower bush with her dress above her ass and another man having his way with her evades his sight. He had been furious when he caught her all those years ago, especially since he’d only just consummated their marriage a fortnight beforehand. 

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

“No. Must not have been important enough.” He sips at his wine with hopes of getting rid of the foulness on his tongue. She never had to do much to rile him up, her voice doing well enough to turn his mood sour.

“At least you’re honest.” 

She copies him and sets her own fork down, peering into his eyes from across the table. It made him uncomfortable, as if she could look inside of his head and find that his thoughts belonged to a certain servant he was desperate to see again. He could easily find out who you were, order your higher ups to reveal the name of the woman who cleaned his bedchambers that day, but he didn’t want to come off as a creep. To scare you away before-

“Is there another woman?” 

Zuko smirks from behind his wine cup, taking another sip before setting it down again. “No. I am faithfully yours, wife.” Sarcasm laced his voice and the woman’s eye twitched. Good. “Outside of my concubines of course.” 

“Forgive me if I find trouble believing that. You do not sound very convincing, husband.”

“There is no other woman, I will not repeat myself. Let’s finish our meal with some level of decorum.”

Zuko’s irritation was rising and his patience was thinning by the second. There technically wasn’t another woman. As firelord he was expected to take concubines to strengthen the chance of producing heirs and she knew and agreed to that. On matters of you, he didn’t even know your name. Even if the way you were on your knees in front of him played in his head night after lonely night. 

“Then what is it?” She pressed. “You’ve been absent even while sitting in front of me. I only wish-”

“Must there be a reason?”

“Yes!” 

Her voice rings through the dining room, sharp and final and for a moment neither of them speak, the guards shifting awkwardly. The distance between the two of them was larger than the table that separated them. Perhaps in another life they would be able to talk to each other honestly, without the betrayal from the past lingering over them like a dark cloud. 

The door to the dining hall opened before he could respond, servants entered to serve the next course but Zuko felt too sick to eat anything else. Guilt twisting in his stomach though he had done nothing wrong. 

He barely glanced at them before doing a double take and freezing. Toward the back of the group and carrying a tray with practiced balance, was you, the ghost who had stolen his mind over the past two weeks.

His pulse glitched when you looked up at the same time, his breath catching in his throat because for a sweet, but all too short, few seconds you actually held his gaze. He was hypnotized, and when you looked away his rising smirk quickly turned into a frown. 

Such a fucking tease. 

Zuko could lie and say that the next time he saw you had been pure coincidence but that wouldn’t be honorable, now would it? He had learned your schedule following that night in the dining hall. You didn’t have to know that though, he would just have to pretend he had no idea that your shift ended an hour ago and that you liked to visit the public gardens afterward. 

He’s stood behind you, watching as you bend over in front of the fountain and run your hand down the back of one of the palace cats. He never cared for the things but his younger sister, Kiyi, was fond of them so now they were everywhere. He had to scold his dragon for trying to eat one of them.

You looked so fucking edible outside of your work unifrom, dressed in a silk dress that hugged your ass and hips beautifully and Zuko could feel himself growing hard at the sight. His cheeks burned red at the thought of taking you right here, perhaps his wife had known something about fucking in gardens that he didn’t. 

Perhaps he should find out.

“Hmm, scandalous as always.”

You were instantly shooting up and spinning to look at him and his heart almost leaped from his chest. Your hair was free of its usual pulled back style as you opted to let it free fall down your back, your face makeup free and you were so beautiful that it hurt. But the way your robes began to slip off your right shoulder and the wide doe eyed innocent look you were giving him, had his cock straining against his pants. 

“My Lord!” You lowered yourself into a bow, hair falling forward and framing your face. “I did not mean to take up space, I was only admiring the gardens and then this cat came along and well, I just had to pet-”

“Please rise and do not apologize. I’m the one intruding, you were here first were you not?”

You were, Zuko knew that because he watched from a safe distance as you entered, waiting for the perfect moment to follow behind you. But that was his secret, right?

You simply stood there with your head bowed respectfully and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. He never liked the rule of not being allowed to look at your superiors but he also hadn’t thought much of it until he met you and decided that such a silly tradition would be dismissed.

“Are you incapable of speaking unless you are apologizing?"

“I’m so-” You quickly close your mouth, biting on the inside of your cheek and still refusing to look at him. Zuko had to fight to keep himself from laughing, you were just too cute. So innocent that you likely had no idea the inappropriate thoughts running through his head right now. 

“I’ve found that the gardens look best in the late evening, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Of course you would, it was the reason why since you started working here two weeks ago, you came here after every shift without fail. You didn’t know that he knew that though, so he asked anyway. 

“Y-yes, my lord.” Your eyes were on everything but him and that just wouldn’t do. He was tired of playing this game, of pretending his attraction wasn’t burning his common sense away, like he didn’t dream of fucking you every night. 

So he didn’t think before he was stepping forward, standing tall over you and letting the back of his hand slowly fall down your cheek, relishing in the way you were clearly struggling not to lean into his touch. This was perfect, it was so obvious you wanted him too. Zuko wasn’t alone in feeling this gravitational pull between the two of you. 

He lets his finger trail over your bottom lip before gripping your chin between his thumb and index finger, turning your head toward him and lifting until it was tilted back and you were forced to stare at him.

Pure. The feeling that pooled in his stomach was a pure fiery lust that wouldn’t be satiated until he had you quivering beneath him and crying out his name. 

“That’s better. From this moment forward you are to look me in the eyes when I speak to you, am I clear?” 

He doesn’t miss the way your pupils expand and you allow your body to lean into his, so slightly that if Zuko hadn’t been tracking your every breath he wouldn’t have noticed. “But my lord.. People will talk. The rules-”

“Rules?” He chuckles even though a blush is creeping up his neck at the way you stare so trustfully at him. For the first time in years, he feels nervous. He had been an awkward teenager and horrid at seducing women until puberty kicked in and he learned a thing or two from the many girls that threw themselves at his feet. 

“I am the firelord, sweetheart. I do as I wish.”

Zuko was a man of his word. After a desperate struggle to hold himself back from kissing you in public where someone might see, he straightened himself and pulled back, ordering you to meet him in his chambers later that night. 

Your heart was racing the entire walk to the east wing of the palace, knowing what he wanted from you because it was what you desperately craved as well. It was why you changed into your finer robes, the finest you could afford as a servant. It was see through enough that your red dress underneath was very obviously visible.

How disgraceful you were, playing into this game with your superior, with a married man. The whispers that would begin once word spread that a mysterious woman that wasn’t the firelord’s wife or concubine, had been spotted entering his chambers, would be enough to bring shame to your family if anyone discovered who you were.

So why were you speeding up your steps to reach his chambers faster? How touch deprived were you to be so eager to sleep with a man you knew would discard you after getting what he wanted?

Still, you announced yourself to the guard posted outside of his door, raising your hand to knock when he confirmed you were who you said you were. Ignoring the way your body shook and your heart pounded in your ears.

On the other side of the door, Zuko was freshly bathed and still dripping with water when you knocked and walked in after he gave the clear. He stood in front of his bed, the small cotton cloth wrapped around his waist doing little to keep him decent, long hair falling down his back, free from the weight of the crown usually nestled atop his head.  

“Firelord Zuko, I am here just as you requested.”

You cringe at the formality in your tone. You had never been with a man before and while you knew what Zuko wanted from you and you were more than willing to give it, this was new territory for you. You’d only ever kissed a few men before, never going beyond a heated exchange of spit and maybe a little grinding. 

He would be your first.

“Good girl. Shall I reward you for following orders so finely?”

His words had you snapping your head up, eyes blown wide and face burning hot at his pet name. You had quickly believed rumors of his cruelty, terrified of working in the palace and here he was calling you a good girl.

The sudden reality check of Zuko’s true nature gave you whiplash. You can’t help the way your eyes lower, taking in every toned muscle, the scar on his stomach, the drop of water falling so slowly down his tanned skin, the dark trail of hair that disappeared between the cloth wrapped at his waist. 

The man was truly out of this world.

“Yes p-please, my lord.” Harlot.

Zuko smirks at the humiliating desperation in your voice, golden eyes burning so bright that you thought he had actual fire in them. As he makes his way toward you, you feel your stomach twist and the goosebumps on your arms double in quantity. 

The way he’s walking toward you like the god of seduction has an ache forming between your legs and spit filling your mouth. You have to actively keep your jaw from dropping lest you start drooling. How embarrassing would that be? 

When he finally reaches you he’s looming, forcing you to tilt your head back to stare at him. He looked positively masculine, would he be rough with you? The smell of his soap was so strong, so sweet that you wanted to taste it.

He’s being gentle with you, thumb rubbing on your bottom lip as he uses his other hand to slowly untie your robe, never letting his eyes leave yours. His gaze was soul crushing, nerve wrecking enough that your body slightly shook, blood turning cold when his knuckles grazed your gown before he finished untying the knot. 

Zuko doesn’t waste a second in pushing your robes to the floor, the soft fabric falling to the sides of your feet. He steps back to admire you and you can feel the flush on your neck and cheeks as his eyes linger on your breasts, hard nipples imprinting on the silk. 

You had purposely chosen to forgo your sarashi so your breasts weren’t flattened like they usually were and a sick sense of pride filled your head at the way Zuko was eating you with his eyes. 

For a moment you forgot that he was a married man with plenty of concubines to warm his bed, that this was simply a one time thing and he was just using you to get what he wanted. 

“Hmm, get on the bed and I shall give you your prize.” 

Your eyes are wide, pupils blown black with need and your body is buzzing so much that you can barely feel your fingers that have begun to sweat. Zuko only stands there, hands clasped in front of him as he waits for you to do as you’re told. 

You’re too dumbfounded to do anything until he’s raising an eyebrow because from what your short lessons had taught you, the firelord does not repeat himself. So you’re nodding foolishly, hair spilling around your shoulders as you stiffly walk to his bed, trying your best not to collapse and embarrass yourself. 

When your knees hit the bed, you turn around to face Zuko and gasp when you see he had been following you and now stood over you once again, dark locks falling into his face.

You swallow hard, your pulse skyrocketing as you reach a hand up to touch him, your fingers tips making the small peach fuzz hair on his face stand to attention the closer you get. Zuko’s eyes only leave yours to look at your lips, his hands moving to your hips to pull you close.

When your hand connects with his cheek, your fingertips brush the scar on his left eye. He stiffened for a moment before melting into the touch. He turns and places a kiss on your wrist, soft and so sweet that it sends shivers down your spine.

Zuko tilts your head up just a little before leaning down, every inch he closes making your knees weaker than they already were. And when his lips finally meet yours, sparks are bursting between the two of you, an invisible tether pulls you deeper into each other. 

The kiss had started off slow, your lips moving together slowly as you both savored this moment, until you whimpered softly and your hand tugged at his hair. Zuko groaned back and immediately deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and you immediately suck it into your mouth.

It leaves your head pleasantly spinning, the floor shifting beneath your feet as he moves to grip your ass, both hands full and pulls you flush against him. You could feel his hard cock rubbing at your hip, twitching with need and your pussy is so drenched you can feel your inner thighs growing wet from your arousal as it starts to trickle out of your panties. 

He finally pulls back and your left moving forward, aching for more but he keeps you still with a harsh squeeze to your ass. 

“You’ve been such a good servant.” He murmurs, his nose brushing against yours. “Now lay on down and spread your legs for me, sweetheart. Your firelord demands it.”  

Zuko shoves you onto your back on the bed, your dress riding up your thighs as you gasp. He drops to the floor in front you, slowly sliding your slippers off your feet and kissing your ankles, working his way up your body.

His hands push your gown up as he goes, and when he reaches your clothed cunt it takes the strength of all of his ancestors to stop himself from burying his face into your pussy and eating you through your panties.  

Your scent is driving him insane, a mixture of jasmine soap and arousal clouding his senses and he wants nothing more than to devour you, but he wasn’t an animal. He would properly undress you first, take his time with you since you deserved nothing less. 

When he reaches your breasts, he pinches each of your already hard nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers and grinning at the breathy moan you tried to fight back, head tossed to the side with your lip tucked between your teeth. 

He keeps pushing the gown up your body until you sit up to lift your arms and he pulls it off, tossing it behind him without a care, your hair fanning out on the bed under him as you lay back down and he swears you’re the most divine creature he’s ever seen. 

How funny life was, that the woman who made him feel most alive, was the one person his status would never allow him to fully have. Dangerous images started to form, ones where he left his wife and concubines and publicly claimed you as his. Such thoughts were unbecoming of a Fire Lord, untraditional, but Zuko had been breaking those since the day that crown was placed on his head.

What was one more rule overthrown? 

 The way you’re naively staring up at him has him drunk on desire, his hard cock straining against the towel still wrapped around his waist. He notices how you let your eyes drift across his body, admiring him just as he admired you. 

When they land on his hidden twitching length and your eyes widen, he bites back a smirk, enjoying this entirely too much. You were shaking like you’d never done this before, eyes nervously looking around while you chewed on your bottom lip, almost petrified as if you were a-

He pauses, heart quickening at the idea of being your first. His feet move before his mind, reached down to grab your fiddling hands and lacing his fingers with yours to move them above your head. He uses his knee to spread your legs wide and settle his body between them, his cock pressing against your covered pussy.

You lock your legs around his hips, having no clue what you’re doing but following your gut. You're immediately rewarded with a sick pleasure as he grinds into you. It’s almost good enough to cover up the fact that you were terrified, having never gone past the grinding stage.

“Sweetheart..” Zuko whispers “Have you not been deflowered?” 

And when you nod your head yes he can’t control the groan that escapes, lowering his head to place his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling long and hard because you smelled too fucking good. 

He kisses the area between your shoulder and neck, making his way up until he’s face to face with you again. His pupils have dilated, his eyes burning brighter by the second. 

“My my you’re just full of surprises aren’t you, my little dove?”

You swallow hard, your tongue caught in your throat when he starts to move a hand between your thighs, lifting his hips just enough so he can press his fingers against your aching pussy. The first brush of his fingers made you arch off the bed with a cry. He groans, low and guttural as he pushes your panties to the side and teases your entrance, circling but never quite giving you what you craved.

“I’ll take such good care of you, love. Make every second worth it.” 

You let out a shaky breath and nod your head again, moving your hips to meet his fingers and growing frustrated when he pulls away. 

He laughs at your desperation and it makes you flush hot, ashamed at how desperate you were acting. 

“Be patient.” 

“Please, Zuko, ngghh fuck.” Your voice cracks as he finally sinks one finger then two inside you, curling just right to make your vision whiten at the edges.

You’re whimpering and tossing your head side to side as he sets a cruelly slow pace, slick dripping down his fingers while he stretches you open. Those heated make out session you shared with men of your status could never live up to this, you were in pure bliss and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. 

His breath is hot on your neck, tongue licking taunting strips that have you tightening around his fingers. When you're wet enough and stretched out just right, he picks up the pace bit by bit. Giving you more in small doses.

“That’s it, love. Take what I give you, you’re doing so well.”

He spreads his fingers, scissoring you to help prep you for his cock. You were so fucking tight that if he fucked you at this stage, he’d probably cum within five seconds of being inside you. 

Zuko groans loudly when your hands escape his grip and you sink your nails into his back, hips moving in circles around his fingers. He can feel the way your cunt is jumping, clit hard in arousal and he has to taste your or he’ll die, so he’s picking up his pace until his fingers are slamming into you, thumb rubbing harsh circles on your sensitive bud. 

Your stomach tightens the longer he goes, a bubble taking root through your body before it bursts and you’re crying out as your very first orgasm rips through you, pussy clenching around his hand. 

He kept working you through it, his fingers heating up and your vision turns red from the intense pleasure the newfound warmth added, drawing out every wave until you were a trembling mess beneath him. Only then did he pull his fingers free, glistening with your arousal, and bring them to his lips. His tongue dragged over them with a groan, savoring the taste of you and it has you wanting more .

“What,” You take in a deep breath, face sweaty and burning. “Was that? Did you- did you use your bending on me?” 

Zuko shrugs and smiles at you, bangs falling in his face. “A trick I learned. Did you enjoy it?” 

Enjoy it? You wanted to laugh in his face because there simply wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what you were feeling, your body trapped between the spirit and living realm. Your pussy was still throbbing from being stretched, legs shaking like jelly as you struggled to catch your breath. 

“I want more. Please.” You reach a hand up to touch Zuko’s cheek, thumb rubbing at his scar and you keep your eyes on him as you run your other hand down his side, enjoying the way his body shudders this time. 

When you reach the knot keeping the cloth around his hips snug, you start to unwork it, your eyes never leaving his. He lets you, seeming entertained with the idea of you taking charge when only a few hours ago you wouldn’t even look at him. 

When it falls to the floor you reach a hand between your bodies, fingers running through his pubes before you wrap them around his cock and he gasps from the sudden contact. 

It’s warm, long and thicker than his print let on and your ten seconds of confidence are over before you can enjoy it, hand faltering as you imagine trying to fit that inside of you.

Zuko notices your hesitation, pulling back so he can look at you clearly while rubbing his thumb against your hip. “Don’t think too much about it, love. I promised to be gentle.” 

You nod even though nerves still have sweat beading on your forehead. You wanted this, needed this more than anything and even though you knew your parents would be disappointed that you were unwed, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

You would deal with the consequences later, but for now nothing existed outside of this space you and Zuko shared.

“O-okay.” You whisper, the hair on your arms standing to attention when he moves your body up the bed and pulls your panties off, lying on his stomach between your legs as tossing them. 

Now you understood how the first pair ended up under his bed.

You whimper as his fingers find your pussy again, circling your overstimulated clit with slow strokes. He nuzzles his nose against your thigh, placing a kiss on it before licking at your entrance in a strip. 

You reach a hand down and grab onto his hair, lip catching in your teeth as you start to slowly move your hips against his face. Zuko groans encouragingly, replacing his fingers with his tongue and sucking your clit into his mouth. 

You gasp, hand tightening around his black hair as your back arches off the bed and Zuko works you, stretching you open with his index finger, preparing you for what’s to come. Your nipples grow harder by the second, pussy throbbing and leaking juices all over his face and hand.

“My lord?” The voice comes from the other side of the door and you immediately recognize it as a co-workers, your blood turning cold despite the sweat coating your skin. 

Panic, pure panic has you attempting to pull your body away but Zuko isn’t having it, using his hand to grab your hip and roughly pin you to the bed. His strength was overwhelming, even while only using half of it he was able to keep you still, attention solely focused on making you cum again.

Tears pull in the corners of your eyes when he adds his middle finger, pushing deep until his knuckles are flush against your pussy, ignoring the voice on the other side of the door. 

You’re too gone to truly stop him, legs tightening around his head to pull him closer. You’re bucking widely against him, biting back several moans that threaten to expose your current.. condition. 

Zuko uses his powers again, heating his tongue against your clit and you let go, eyes rolling back with your mouth dropped in a silent cry, pussy squirting juices onto the man beneath you. He doesn’t care, doesn’t stop sucking you dry until your legs are dropping from his shoulders.

“I just.. I thought you might be hungry since you skipped dinner.”

“Just ate.” His voice calls out, eyes locked on your eyes with a hint of mischief in them. “Leave me.”

SIlence. 

Zuko doesn’t wait, grabbing your legs and hooking them on his arms as he lines his cock up with your entrance. Your eyes are as wide as the moon when he slightly nudges forward, grinding his impressive length through your folds to soak it. 

When the sound of footsteps fade away, Zuko doesn’t give you a moment to speak before he’s pushing the tip in. He didn't rush it, didn’t force it. Instead, he held your gaze as he started to push through your tight walls, inch by inch, his breath ragged with restraint. 

You cried out as the pain of your broken hymen tore through you, your nails digging into his shoulders. Zuko stilled, his jaw clenched, his voice a rough whisper. “Breathe. Just.. breathe. I’ve got you.”

His cock was discovering new depths, ones his fingers and tongue couldn't quite reach. He stopped with every inch, littering your face in kisses and licking your tears away. “So good for me, love. You’re so brave.” 

The feeling of your hymen tearing was sharp and painful, the trick of taking a deep breath only working for a few seconds before it became too overwhelming. Still you bite your lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet but Zuko noticed. Of course he did. 

He pulls back, staring down at you with concern etched into his face. “Are you- are you okay? I can stop.” He chokes out the last part when your pussy grips him on instinct, forehead dropping onto yours.

“I just need, mmm, a minute. It burns.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth “My brave little dove. It’ll pass.”

You take deep, shuddering breaths as he gives you time to adjust to his size, his hand cradling your face, lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss as his hair falls on the sides of your face.

When the pain mostly withdrew and was replaced with a deep burn of desire, you nodded for him to continue. 

He started by rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts that made your toes curl, making sure to keep his eyes on yours for any signs of discomfort. While Zuko had wanted nothing more than to pound you, he wasn’t a brute and wanted you to enjoy yourself too, especially since it was your first time. 

“That’s it. Take all of it, perfect girl.” He grunts, his pelvis rubbing against your clit so beautifully that you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. 

“Haah, oh god! That f-feels amazing, my lord.” 

The sound of his title slipping from your tongue has him reeling, leaving him hopelessly flustered and his cheeks dusted pink as he smashes his mouth against yours, your tongues tangling as he picks up his pace. Your pussy suctions every time he pulls far enough out and shoves his cock deep inside, mushroom tip rubbing against your cervix. 

It drives you crazy the way he’s stretching you, the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure making the world around you tilt. You lift your hips, silently begging for more and it doesn't take long for Zuko to understand you. 

He kisses you one more time before sitting on the back on his legs, grabbing your hips with both hands and leaning over your body to fold you in half. You’re in a mean mating press, your legs pressing into your chest as Zuko hovers over you. 

His eyes are burning bright from the lit hearth, his chest red from exertion. Tears pool at the sight, he was truly unbelievable. Zuko was arguably the most powerful man in the realm and here he was, on top of you and in this moment, yours.

“Fuck, I w-won’t last long like this.” 

Zuko swears. Something he never does as he finds it to be uncouth, however you were turning him mad, clouding his judgement.   

“S’kay.” Your words slurred as you pushed his hair from his face and moved your hips as best as you could in this position. “Just need.. you to move.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Zuko doesn’t start slow because when he looks down and sees the way his cock is snug inside of you, disappearing and reappearing coated in light red blood, he snaps. His body hunches over yours as he slams into you, savoring the way you scream out his name and rake your nails over his chest. 

“OH! Zuko, I’m-” You’re whining and tossing your head back, drool and tears leaking down your face, your pussy squelching from blood and arousal, making a big fucking mess on the silk sheets.

“Yes? Tell me, love. Tell your firelord what you need.” 

You can’t speak, spit bubbling in your mouth while Zuko fucks you dumb on his cock. He’s pounding you so hard that your body is moving up the bed, the headboard slamming loudly into the wall as he has his way with you.

“I think I know what you need.” 

The world tilts when he pulls you off his cock and flips you onto your stomach, using his hands to push your legs together. 

“What are you-” Your question is cut short by the feeling of him lowering his body over yours and slipping his cock between your legs, nudging until he’s at your entrance again and pushing through your squishy walls. 

“You need more, so I’m giving you more.” He bottoms out in one sharp thrust, his balls smacking against your ass as he starts to ruthlessly pound into you, his hand pushing your face into the mattress. 

“Huuuuh, oh fuck! God yes, just like t-that!” Your fingers grip the sheets, knuckles turning white from the force. 

Zuko fucks you impossible harder and in return, your pussy clenched around him tight, sucking up his cock and refusing to let go. 

He has you in a prone position, propping himself on his elbows so he doesn’t squish you, lips sucking on your neck and making sure to leave marks. If he couldn’t publicly have you, he would make sure others knew you were already claimed. An ugly sense of possession swelling in his chest. 

His thrust grows animalistic and your cunt flutters around him. The pressure builds in your core and coils tighter with every stroke. 

“So perfect for me, love. Say it, say you’re mine.”  

Your back arches, nipples dragging across the bed and you’re stuttering out I’m yours! as the knot in your stomach finally bursts and you’re cumming for the third time. The pleasure is white and it’s hot, your screams muffed as you turn your face into the bed. 

Zuko wraps your hair in his hand, twisting it and pulling while he keeps fucking you, cock swelling as he chases his releases. His breathing is ragged, hips pushing you further down. 

“Can I- fuck- can you I breed you?” 

You nod your head, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. He slams into you a few more times before burying himself to the hilt with a loud groan, cock pulsing as hot cum spurts against your cervix, thick and overflowing.

His hips jerk with each pulse, pumping his seed deeper inside you. You feel the warmth of his cum leaking out, further ruining his sheets. 

Zuko stays there for a minute, letting the last of his release drip into you before slowly pulling out and falling to the bed beside you. 

You slowly roll onto your back, pussy sore and when you can think straight, reality crashes into you that you were no longer pure. 

Who would marry you now? 

Before anxiety could swallow you whole, Zuko was pulling you into his arms, grabbing your leg to hike it over his waist. You hesitate before laying your head on his chest, relief washing over you that he hadn’t immediately kicked you out. 

Tomorrow. You could worry about your future tomorrow. For now, you would enjoy the bliss of being his before you were just his servant again come morning.

“Mine.” He leans down to kiss the top of your head. “All mine.” 

He grabs your hand and toys with your ring finger, and you had no idea that Zuko was already planning a way to end his marriage without causing an uproar, thinking of how to ask you to be his girlfriend without scaring you off. 

He would have to handle his council first, not that it really mattered in the end. Nothing and no one was going to stop him from making you his.

❦ lisa's note: this took an embarassing amount of time to finish so I hope you guys enjoy it and pls ignore any grammar errors, my brain is fried 🥲 comments are always appreciated!

© art creds: @hunnismokah ❤︎

zuko tags: @bibimysoul @getovibesonly @lazylionlady @httpswilloww @itzkawaiix @xpotatoee @rhaewinsdaughter @manayoyo @laceymarch @darkloverfox @adeline5666 @1iluvvocattoss @fireladybliss @bananianii @renamay09 @pepitesingulare @mossmydarling @im-in-lokis-army @llovekats @xoxocelestial @godisitnaptimeyet @betsybetts @mihyas-dieehefrau @katarasdoll @myauraisperrywinkle @nishinoyasusedsock @rhaewinsdaughter @amelliathestar @rizecia17 @mutsu422 @weasleytwins-41 @alex2602 @lilywife @blackheartharv @emeraldpurple @eaturbucky @kissprl @moewzington @sugarxspic3 @pinkpantherrrrss @megumiswifeyily @sunnyteume @clarkkentfavorite

“…yes,” you whimper.

“Then fucking arch it.”

You sniffle. “Okay.”

He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.

“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.

It has his attention now.

The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.

“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.

“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“

“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”

“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.

“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.

“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”

His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”

“I… I don’t know—“

“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”

“Please.”

“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”

And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.

"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”

Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.

“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”

Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.

He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.

The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.

“Are you ready to go again?”

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

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

“choso said you weren’t here—“

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

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

a few moments earlier….

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

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

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

“because you keep playing with it.”

“just give me a sec!” choso snaps.

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

“got it,” choso finally exhales.

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

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

“choso.”

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

“mom, how’d you—“

SLAP!

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

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

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

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

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

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

his jaw clenches.

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

“no. we’re talking now.”

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

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

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

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

“should we—”

“i don’t want him killing us though—”

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

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

finding sukuna in this mess feels impossible.

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

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

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

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

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

ino nearly cries in relief, “sukuna!”

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

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

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

“choso’s mom is here.”

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

“where?”

“backstage—she took him—”

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

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

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

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

present….

“I asked you a fucking question!”

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

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

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

“choso—“

choso’s clenches his jaw, blood boiling.

“choso—“

“forget about it!” choso snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ry—” choso tries, voice tight.

sukuna doesn’t even hear him.

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

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

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

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

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

“i said stop!”

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

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

kaori’s expression shifts quick. “choso—”

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

sukuna’s jaw clenches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“dude are you okay?”

“what the hell was that?”

“did she seriously—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

toji.

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

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

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

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

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

sukuna still struggles—

PUNCH

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“shut the fuck up,” sukuna mutters instantly.

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

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

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

“i’m fine,” sukuna says shortly.

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

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

toji scoffs behind him. “barely.”

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

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

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

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

toji notices immediately. his jaw tightens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“THAT’S MY BROTHER!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ryomen…”

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

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

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

“you did this!” sukuna screams.

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

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

“kid, calm down—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

toji’s expression shifts instantly. “what?”

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

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

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

he’s dead.

and it’s her fault.

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

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

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

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

the entire field erupts with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

the black envelope sits beside it. opened.

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

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

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

his jaw tightens as his fingers move across the keyboard.

Dear Recruitment Team,

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

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

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

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

his fingers resume moving.

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

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

Sincerely,

Ryomen Sukuna Itadori

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

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

SEND

the email vanishes.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“dad—“

“do you need a new prescription?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you stomach churns, “it’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

“i know.”

“you don’t sound like you know.”

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

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

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

“what?” you stop.

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

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

“for telling the resident.”

“yeah well you didn’t tell on me.”

“still.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

shoko gives you a sympathetic look.

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

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

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

“you don’t want a free vacation?”

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

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

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

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

“that’s not the same thing!”

“sounds the same.”

“it literally isn’t!”

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

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

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

“you can’t do that!”

“watch me.”

“ryomen!”

“choso!”

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

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

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

“sure i can.”

“i’m sixteen!”

“exactly.”

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

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

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

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

ino slowly starts backing out. “nope.”

choso’s jaw clenches, “ino.”

ino shakes his head more, “no.”

“ino,” choso’s words strain.

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

“that’s dramatic,” sukuna snorts.

“you threatened me,” ino huffs.

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

ino frowns, “how is that different?!”

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

“what offer?” ino asks.

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

“…spain spain?”

“yes, spain spain,” choso snaps.

“like beaches?”

“yes.”

“europe?”

“yes!”

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

“dude—“ choso snaps.

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

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

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

choso relaxes just a bit, “thank you.”

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

“don’t.”

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

“ino.”

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

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

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

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

sukuna ignores him, “he will.”

“i won’t!”

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

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

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

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

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

ino chokes, coughing, “me?!!”

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

ino lowers his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“at least I’ve never hit you guys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

eventually your phone lights up.

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

his thumb stops. three days ago.

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

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

dumbass: they made it to the semifinals

a beat passes..

dumbass: i forgot to send the video

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

crybaby: woww

crybaby: a whole 3 days later

crybaby: i was starting to think u hated me

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

dumbass: good guesser

you roll your eyes, holding back a smile.

crybaby: haha u’re soo funny

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

crybaby: WHAAAA

crybaby: WTHHHH UR BROTHER IS SO GOOD

dumbass: u def thought they were gonna be ass

crybaby: ngl…I wasn’t expecting much

dumbass: rude

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

crybaby: NO OFFENSE

dumbass: I’m offended

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

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

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

sukuna snorts.

dumbass: crybaby

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

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

….incoming FaceTime from dumbass….

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

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

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

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

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

sukuna’s brow furrows, “what?”

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

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

his fingers brush beneath it. “nothing.”

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

“it’s nothing.”

“yeah definitely,” you sarcastically quip.

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

“did you get punched?”

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

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

“no it isn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

sukuna tsks, “you’re annoying.”

“i was curious,” you shrug.

“it’s a bruise.”

“on your face.”

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

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

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

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

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

“you ditched?”

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

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

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

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

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

“are you home?”

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

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

“so you gotta go soon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“take it out.”

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

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

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

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

you shift in your seat.

“spit on it—“

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m taking your direction.”

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

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

“let go.”

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

“ow!”

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

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

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

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

“I’m alone.”

“still public.”

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

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

“not as often as you touch me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

pre oozes from the brute’s twitching cock.

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

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

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

fuck.

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

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

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

“gun- cum with me…ry-haah?”

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

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

“anhh—“

“what the fuck!?”

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

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

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

“you came?”

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

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

your brows rise. “I can’t.”

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

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

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

“talk into the phone then.”

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

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

another beat passes before you finally begin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you made a mess?”

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

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

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

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

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

“so, good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[12:40PM] you: hii

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

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

[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: shit

your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

a beat passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wrong question…

[12:49PM] you: 😀 so good!

the bubbles appear then disappear, then:

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

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

[12:50PM] you: loll yeah

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

higuruma seems to understand your tone as he responds.

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

[12:51PM] you: nope

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

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

a smile threatens your face.

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

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

[12:52PM] you: thanks🥹🙏

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

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

[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: homestretch

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

[12:54PM] you: TRUSTT

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

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

you pause, lips parting.

[12:56PM] you: oh….i forgot

[12:56PM] hiromi higuruma: fr?

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

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

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

[12:57PM] you: 😪✊

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

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

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

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

[12:58PM] you: i willlll

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

“great,” you mutter to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you spit into the sink, washing your face.

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

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

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

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

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

“wait, did they release decisions yet?”

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

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

“i’m jealous.”

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

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

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

“you okay?”

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

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

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

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

“someone get the nurse!”

“she’s crying—”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and that’s when your oasis begins.

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

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

“…you’re kidding,” you breathe.

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

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

“well, well, well!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

gojo’s grin somehow widens, “i know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“i do not.”

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

“that was an obvious lie,” gojo shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your eyes eventually drift shut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

shoko chuckles, but hums along.

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

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

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

6:02 a.m.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…what the fuck?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sukuna scoffs, “dramatic.”

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

“that’s not half.”

“you have no idea what half means.”

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

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

“you’re unbelievable,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

annoyance flickering across his face. “seriously?”

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

“one more bite.”

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

“selfish,” he mutters.

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

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

“ryomen.”

“what?”

“make your own sandwich.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it should be unspoken.”

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah, it is,” he replies coolly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your eyes go wide, “me?!—haah—“

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

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

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

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

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

he clicks his tongue.

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

“then it was for satoru.”

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

“fuck outta my face,” he spits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re annoying,” he cuts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“don’t play dumb.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no.”

the room falls silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

his jaw clenches.

“please.”

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

Jude slammed his hand loudly against the window, blocking me in.

Then, veil and all, he gripped the back of my head.

Kate: Ngh….Jude?

After the wedding, which had been held under tight security with no one allowed to enter, I offered to go thank the Crown members who had helped with the preparations.

Instead, Jude whisked me away to his room before I could even take off my veil.

Jude: We ya plannin' on parading how ya look in that dress to that lot?

Jude: Even though ya signed our marriage contract s’easily……

Jude: Y’aint gotta clue about the kinda man ya married.

With a soft suckling sound, he tenderly marked my shoulder before adding,

Jude: Don’t worry, I’ll make ya understand.

And then, as if betraying that tenderness, he mercilessly bit into the back of my neck.

Kate: Hngh!!

With his teeth digging deeper, a bolt of pain crackles through me, and a river of honey starts to overflow from deep within.

It’s proof that I’ve come to understand, down to my very bones, that this pain is what it means to be loved by him.

Jude: Heh, left a pretty lil’ mark, didn’t it….?

Narrowing his cruel, amethyst eyes to admire the bite mark reflected in the windowpane, Jude deftly unlaced the ribbons of my dress.

Jude: Yer husband’s a jealous, vindictive bastard.

Jude: Won’t be satisfied ‘till I’ve marked ya as mine, even if it means scarring yer body up like this.

Jude: And as for this dress yer wearin' for me, if some other bloke’s gonna gawk at'cha in it.....…

Jude: I’d rather rip it to shreds, understand?

The cold, arrogant whispers against my ear ring out like declaration of love, testimony that I am under his curse.

(I had only just sworn to belong to him alone, yet...to think he’d be jealous over something like this…)

(I’m so deeply and heavily cursed by his love.)

The thought fills me with such euphoria that it leaves me breathless.

Kate: I’m sorry, Jude….

Jude: Don’t want some glib apology.

Kate: I know….that’s why…

[Tap Point -Jude’s Chest]

Jude: ….Mmh.

I gently touch Jude's chest through the opening of his dress shirt.

All so that my ruthless husband might ravish me with his love.

Kate: Bite me harder, torment me.….Carve marks into me to prove I’m yours.

Kate: Please…..make me your woman, Jude Jazza.

Jude: Hah.

His amethyst eyes narrowed sadistically with delight.

Jude: Mark ya where?

Jude’s hand, which had been resting on the window, caressed my shoulder enticingly.

I took his hand and guided it over the contours of my curves through the fabric of my dress.

Kate: Here. And here…..here too.

I trailed his hand down my neck, to my chest… and all the way to my stomach.

Jude: Whadda naughty lil’ bride.

Laughing mockingly, Jude lifted the hem of my dress.

Kate: Ahh..!

As the delicate fabric tore, his fingers sank into the heat of my wetness.

Kate: M-My dress..…Ahn!!

Jude: Hm? What was that?

Kate: Nhhh!

While I arch my back from the pleasure of him roughly churning inside me, he clamped his teeth down on my throat, all the while yanking the bodice of my dress down with his other hand.

The sound of tearing fabric echoed out.

As he bites my breast, my legs give out and I nearly collapse, but-

Jude: Yer the one who told me to carve ya up, aren’tcha?

Kate: Ah, ah, ahhhn!

Pressing his long fingers firmly against my aching clit as if punishing me, honey poured to the floor.

He catches my swaying body still awash in the afterglow of climax, and when I look up at him within his embrace, Jude is smiling.

A loving smile that was tinged with a hint of pain.

Jude: Dress’s shredded up, and ya’ve been bitten all over, but…..

Jude: You were already my woman long before we ever got hitched.

(Jude…..)

[Narrative Flashes to Wedding Chapel]

Jude knows all too well the suffering of being bound by promises and love.

All the same, a man like that promised a future with me and swore his love.

Just thinking about it fills me with such overwhelming joy that I feel like crying. How can I possibly express that in words?

[Narrative Flashes back to Jude’s Room]

(I know exactly the kind of man I’ve married.)

A man who turns my life upside down.

A terrible man who bites and tears my dress to shreds.

A man who will never let go of me, not even if it means dragging me down to hell with him.

He gives my hand a gentle tug, beckoning me toward the bed.

As I pulled him closer by the nape of his neck, craving a kiss from him, Jude leaned over me in response.

Kate: I’ve been your woman for a long time now.

Kate: So, I want it…. prove to me that I’m yours….

Jude: ….Ya really are a hopeless woman, aren’t ya?

The moment our lips met, the heat I’d been longing for seared deep within me.

[Screen transitions to sometime later]

Kate: ….!!

Another burst from his cock erupts deep in within me.

I’ve lost count of how many times he’s etched his love upon me since then.

Cast to the peak of pleasure and unable to even cry out, I looked up at Jude, clinging to him...

Jude: Haah…Hah….

His amethyst gaze was fixed on the space between my widely spread legs...

As my eyes were drawn to follow his, Jude slowly withdrew his cock, and the overflowing evidence of our love flooded out onto the sheets.

(Oh….)

Kate: …..What a waste…..

Jude: ……

My mind was so melted from pleasure that my true feelings slipped out, making Jude’s eyes grow as wide as saucers.

Jude: Hah….yer a real spoiled princess.

He calls her a hopeless woman again here, but it sounded repetitive, so I tweaked it.

Kate: Huh…? Kyaahhhh!!

Before I knew it, he grabbed my hips, rolled me onto my stomach, and thrust deep inside me once more.

Jude: If yer gonna cry over what spilled outta ya, then I’ll just pump a new load in ya…..

With every fierce thrust, what he poured in was pushed out of me, dripping onto the tattered remnants of my dress.

While Jude pressed himself over me from behind, he clasped my hands that were gripping the sheets.

Our rings clinked together, making a delicate, fleeting sound.

Kate: Nhh, nhh, nhhh!!

As he bit the back of my neck, driving me to a climax, I felt his cock flooding within me.

After he thrusted deep, grinding himself against me, Jude’s body went limp, and I felt his heavy weight settle against my back.

(Jude….?)

It was rare for him to lean on top of me like this, so I turned my head slightly and found a pair of amethysts, feverish with emotion.

His gaze was absolutely brimming with as much affection as possible.

Jude: Because of you……

Jude: I ended up vowin’ to something as loony as eternal love.

Jude: So ya’d better take responsibility, wifey.

Jude: Ya already know a promise made to me ain’t cheap, yeah?

Kate: Mm….

Tears well up, and my voice catches in my throat.

Kate: Hic….Y-Yes…Yes, I’ll absolutely take responsibility!

Whether the destination is the moon or hell itself.

This promise is a tether that will bind us and curse us, for all eternity.

Kate: I’ll never let you go.

I nuzzled my cheek against his sweat-soaked one.

Jude: The both of us are well past the point of lettin’ the other go now.

Jude kissed me more tenderly than ever before, as if he were waking a slumbering princess.

The screwdriver in your hand clinks against the metal of the door. You grit your teeth and squint. You’ve got a choice, here: you can pick the lock clean and leave no trace, or you can break it. Let everyone know some skunk-rat broke into the house of the richest man in town.

Easy. You pop the lock until it cracks. The door swings behind you, useless.

Silently, you toe off your shoes, holding them in your hand. The inner door is unbarred; that one, he can get away with leaving unlocked for you. You let yourself in like a ghost, shutting the door carefully.

You’ve been here before, you know where to go, creeping through the silent house like a thief. And maybe you are, you’ve thought about taking things. The statues that dot the shelves, the tapestry that covers an entire wall of the living room. You could grab it and run; snatch it from under the watchful eyes of the family portrait opposite the stairs. Two pairs of red eyes and one blue, all boring down at you, recognizing you instantly as a different breed, a different species altogether from the kind of people who can afford a family portrait.

You pass by the breakfront. You think that’s where they keep their silverware, even three spoons would probably cover your family’s rent for a year.

Heh. Three silver spoons; three of the silver spoons that Sukuna was born with in his mouth.

See? You can make clever jokes, you’re not stupid. Everyone at school thinks you’re stone dumb, but you’re just quiet and dirt poor. There’s a difference.

They assume you’re trouble, too, which is also unfair. That’s why Sukuna’s parents, that’s why everyone thinks he should stay away from you. They think you’re corrupting the pretty little rich boy.

As if you could even afford the cigarettes he smokes. He’s corrupted all on his own, you just happen to be there. Everyone assumes it’s your fault.

Unfair. Then again, you’re the one with the screwdriver. But he left the door unlocked. Both guilty, but you both know you’re the one who’ll be punished.

Whatever. People in this town think you and your family are shit anyway. And in a few weeks you’ll graduate high school. Sukuna will learn to take over his father’s business, and you’ll get the fuck out of here for a while. See what else is waiting for you.

Carefully, you climb the stairs, wary of the squeaky floorboards. The cool air of the central AC raises goosebumps on your arms. Another benefit of visiting Sukuna in the dead of night—your family can’t afford air conditioning.

You feel the early-June sweat begin to dry on the back of your neck. Your father’s a handyman, picking up odd jobs for cheap, and your mother works nights at the twenty-four hour convenience store. Means Sukuna gets AC and you wore the same pair of jeans to school for a year straight, until even your mother’s patchwork couldn’t save the cheap fabric.

Whatever. Nothing you could do about it, so you decided not to care. Sukuna didn’t, either; that’s why you like him. Maybe growing up with all that money taught him to see through bullshit. Everybody at school was always ready to kiss his ass and lay out the red carpet. You never did, because why bother? Maybe that’s why he likes you.

Reaching the second floor, you cross to his bedroom door and knock softly. It opens instantly, like he was waiting for you.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, pulling you inside.

You set your shoes down, arms coming up around his neck, muscle memory. Lightly, you pull him into a kiss.

Sukuna shoves his tongue into your mouth, rough and hot. It always hits you like a Molotov cocktail.

“Had to walk,” you remind him. “My Rolls Royce was in the shop.”

He pinches the skin of your hips, hard enough to make you gasp. “Take your dad’s car,” you suggest. “Pick me up.”

Sukuna wrinkles his nose. “Glued a fucking AirTag to the keys, he’d see where I went.”

You’d get in trouble. You shrug. “You could do it anyway.”

He pulls back, narrowing his eyes. He hates when you take the consequences on the chin.

You think back to the broken lock. You can’t make yourself care anymore. In a month, you’ll be gone.

You’re not sure if Sukuna knows that.

Maybe he does; he pulls you back in and kisses you like he’s trying to keep you. You let yourself lick into his mouth, let him take a hand and knead it into the flesh of your ass.

You follow his motion and press yourself against him, his hardening dick rubbing against your stomach.

He curses, shifting back. “Are you sure?”

You nod slowly. Sukuna seems tense. “Are you sure?”

If he says no, if he wants to stop altogether, you’ll just—leave. Walk out, walk home. Wait for school tomorrow.

He holds your gaze, gives a slow grin. “Yeah. Been thinking about this.”

That makes you blink. “You have?”

He scoffs, hands finding your hips. “‘Course I have, you joking? Ever since you brought it up, couldn’t get through the day without my dick in my hand.”

Sukuna says the last part quickly, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Have you thought about it?”

You purse your lips. “…yeah.”

“Mmh.” He grins victorious. His eyes get an evil little glimmer. “Since when?”

Your mouth flattens. He raises an eyebrow.

“Since before then,” you admit grudgingly. “Before all…this,” you wave a hand at his bedroom.

Before you started sneaking into his house to make out with him for hours, grinding against him, body spitting out heat so good it surprised you. So good you had to take some of it home.

“Mmh.” Sukuna hums, pleased. “Had a thing for the rich boy?” he goads, moving in close. “Got off on getting him in trouble?”

“Fuck right off,” you gasp as his lips jump to your neck. “As if you’re not about to take my virginity.”

“As if you’re not about to take mine.” 

You both stop at that, staring at each other. You want to shrug it off, pretend it’s no big deal, but you suddenly see through your casual front. You’re not too cool for the weight of this, you’re not so slick that your first time is meaningless. It means something.

Being here, being with Sukuna, it means something.

He’s looking at you like he knows that. Maybe he’s known it the whole time, and you’re the idiot.

Breathing hard, you clear your throat. “Did you—” your voice cracks. “Did you get a condom?”

Turning, Sukuna goes to his nightstand and pulls out a box. He hands it to you.

You squint, trying to make out the letters. “‘Magnum?’” you ask with a disbelieving grin. “Someone’s cocky.”

He lets out a huff. “Listen, I did some fucking research, okay?” he says irritably. 

“You broke out the measuring stick?” you tease.

“Watch it,” he warns. “We—we fucking need this one, alright?”

“Sukuna,” you start, laughing. “There’s no way—”

“Wanna bet?” he asks, suddenly sly.

That worries you. “Uh, actually—”

“Nah, come feel.” He grabs your wrist, gives you a second to pull away. When you don’t, he tugs you closer, holding your hand over his waistband.

He raises an eyebrow. You take a deep breath and plunge your hand into his boxers.

Only to give a full body jolt. “Holy fuck,” you mutter. He’s right, his dick is fucking huge.

“See?” His voice is so smug. You raise your eyes to his, almost frightened.

“Uh—is this, is this going to work?” you say a little desperately. You’ve barely fingered yourself, the only thing that’s been up there is a tampon.

“What, scared?” he teases. Then he gets a good look at your face and walks it back. “I mean, I think so? I can’t be the only one with a big dick.” He makes a face like he’d like to be.

You let out a deep breath. “Oh—okay.” But you don’t move, hand gone slack around him.

He gives you a smirk. “Wanna do some research?”

Yes. “You’re a fool,” you sigh, pulling your hand out of his pants. “Come on, where’s your phone?”

He gets it off the nightstand. “Where’s yours?”

“It’s my sister’s day with it.” You tug him onto the bed, and he settles in next to you, pulling up google.

Five minutes later, you learn he should finger you, you should probably do it in doggy style, and you won’t come from his dick alone.

The last one annoys him. “Really? I read you could.”

“Where?”

“Reddit.”

“Sub-thread?”

He huffs at you. “‘Is-my-dick-big-enough-to-make-her-cum?’”

That makes you laugh, because it’s so fucking stupid, but it also leaves you…weirdly touched. That he thought of you like that.

“It’s not,” you say snobbishly. “Gonna have to find my clit.”

“You think I can’t?” he says, challenging.

“Pretty rich boys can’t find clits.” You say it like it’s a fact.

He smirks. “Like you’d know. Come on, pants off.”

You both freeze again. The air in the room goes heavy. Your fingers tremble as you pull down your shorts.

Instantly, you’re self-conscious. Your underwear isn’t anything special, just cotton panties you’ve had for ages. But Sukuna stares at them with cartoon-character eyes, looking at your cunt in the dim light like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

It makes you bold. “Alright, pretty boy, put your money where your mouth is,” you instruct, like you’re not shaking, like you’re not suddenly terrified at the thought of someone touching you.

Sukuna reaches out and puts a finger on your clit instantly.

You gape at him. “What the fuck?”

“Am I right?” He presses; starts rubbing his finger back and forth. You squirm, grabbing him by the wrist.

“Oh, I’m right.” He smirks at you, pushing harder. Heat surges, and you let out a gasp.

His hand is bigger than yours, coarser. It feels good, but it also hurts; he’s going too rough.

“Sukuna,” you breathe. “Sukuna, I need it softer.”

He stops immediately. “What…”

You bite your tongue. Be brave. Tell him what you want.

It feels impossible. But Sukuna waits you out, he’s good like that.

Hesitantly, you reach out and draw light circles over the back of his hand. “Like—like that. Lighter.”

He copies the pattern over your underwear, running a finger soft and perfect over your clit. You jolt, arms coming up to squeeze his shoulders.

“Good?” his voice is a low murmur, and it is absolutely gorgeous in the dark.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, really good. Keep going, please.”

“‘Please,’ huh?” he rasps, but he doesn’t stop, keeps tracing your clit with the pad of his finger. He’s propped up on one elbow, now, looking at you. You wonder what he sees.

Sukuna changes his rhythm and you gasp, throwing an arm over your face. Heat strikes you like lightning.

“Still good?” The question guts you; makes you want to pull out your fingernails. You reach out and feel along his abdomen, rubbing your palm over his crotch.

“Fuck.” He spits it into the air between you. The finger on your clit stutters, and your hips chase after it without thought.

“Shit,” you both whisper, staring down wide-eyed. You look up at him and burst into laughter. 

“Shut up!” Sukuna hisses frantically, shoving his fingers into your mouth.

It’s the hand that was at your underwear, you realize almost deliriously. A haze fills your mind, and you let out a moan.

Another wide-eyed moment. Sukuna quickly shifts into a smirk. “Oh?” He runs a finger over your teeth, and you choke.

“Hmm, that’s what I love about you,” he snickers, clearly satisfied. “Always keep things interesting.”

He begins to slide his fingers back and forth on your tongue. Both of your hands grip his bicep. Sukuna holds, waiting, and you shove his hand deeper into your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. You grab his leg and slot it between your own, lining up so that when you rock into him your clit hits his bulge.

His hand grips your jaw. “Fucking—” he cuts off with a snarl as you begin to slide yourself against him.

You’ve done this part before, but it doesn’t change how fucking good it is, how much you make each other light up. And the knowledge that there’s more, that there will be more, sends hot sparks searing through you. 

Suddenly, you want nothing to do with the fingers in your mouth. You bite sharply, then pull his hand free. Snaking a hand behind his head, you shove your lips together.

It’s kissing, and it’s familiar, but it’s also—different. Desperate. Like, like there’s an ocean rising, right there on his bed, and your head is the only thing above water. You need to stay afloat, you need to breathe, but you also need to keep your lips pressed to Sukuna’s, or else you’ll die. You need to tread water, but you also need to slide your hands up his shirt.

You do, tattooed skin and muscle revealing itself under your palms. Nothing you haven’t done, nothing you haven’t seen, but it still leaves you breathless.

Sukuna trembles, chest dancing under your hands. You tug at his shirt impatiently and he quickly takes it off, throwing it to the floor.

He puts his hands to your back. “You—”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pulling off your shirt and bra. This, this is new, and you both freeze, staring at each other.

You feel the chill of the AC again, and you shiver. Sukuna jumps, hands reaching for you. 

Before he can do anything, before his palms can make contact, your hand darts out and grabs him by the shoulder. Pulling gently, you guide Sukuna to fall on top of you. Hand spread between his shoulder blades, you gently hold his body to you, the endless skin of his chest running wild against yours.

It’s—indescribable. The weight of him, the heat. It shouldn’t be real. Sukuna—Sukuna’s body shouldn’t be capable of this, this electrical storm.

Yours shouldn’t, either. But Sukuna curses above you like it is, hips instinctively rutting into yours. His dick rubs hard against your clit, and you gasp, wrapping your arms around his back and squeezing, keeping him there.

Just when you don’t think it’ll get any better, Sukuna leans down and kisses you. His lips are familiar but rough, stilted and hungry. You reach a hand up to pull at his hair and he moans, new and low and devastating. 

It’s dizzying, Sukuna knocks you off-balance. His tongue slides, his hips jerk, and the knowledge of what’s to come kicks you in the teeth.

Then, he pushes himself up on one arm. The other hand slides to your breast, kneads it experimentally, then begins to pinch and play with your nipple.

Your grip on his hair tightens. You gasp, shocked, as his clever fingers move across you.

“You like it?” Sukuna murmurs, voice shaky.

Yes. Heat lances through you, hurtling from your nipple to your core. But breath is hard to come by, so you just nod.

He grins happily, leaning down to lick and suck at your neck.

Your voice pops back. “Where—” you cough. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Sukuna pulls back to smirk at you. “Porn.”

You choke out a laugh. “You’re watching fucking tit play?”

“All part of the research,” he says smoothly, before leaning down to seal his lips around your nipple and suck.

That drives you crazy like you didn’t think Sukuna could. You squeeze your eyes shut, spit curses under your breath, bend your back into an arch so you can shove yourself further into his teeth. Hot desire digs under your skin and rips through you, so strong you feel your skin will burst.

For a moment, Sukuna freezes. Your hand on the back of his head pushes him into your tits. 

“Holy shit,” he mutters, before diving back in, dragging his tongue and teeth over you. You seize, then squirm, holding his head in place like your life depends on it.

It’s so good, until abruptly it isn’t: the sensation is too much, too focused on one area while your cunt is fucking screaming. Sukuna licks again, and discomfort rolls through you.

“Sukuna,” you call quietly. He lets out a rumble, teeth still going at it.

Now the feeling almost gives you the ick. You let go of his hair and pull on his neck. “Sukuna.”

He lifts his head up, panting, eyes-heavy lidded. The sight is incredible.

You clear your throat. “We need to do something else.”

That throttles him. You actually see his throat bob. “You want to—stop.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, no. Just—” you gesture at your tits. “That part.”

Sukuna’s lip quirks. “You seemed like you were having fun,” he goads.

You roll your eyes, face heating up. “Yeah, well—”

“So what should we do?” he interrupts conversationally, looking down at you, eyes wide with faux-concern. You draw in a breath to speak and he flicks at your nipple to make you squirm

You narrow your eyes. Like lightning, you snake your hand down and cup his dick through his shorts. 

He tenses above you, hissing, and you smile meanly. “Don’t know why you’re talking like that, got this raging hard-on and nowhere to put it,” you mutter.

“Think I’ve got somewhere to put it,” he gasps, gloating, like his hips aren’t rutting into your hand.

“What, you gonna take out the fleshlight?” you joke, curling your hand around the shape of him. You’re shaking, but you’re sure he doesn’t notice.

Then he reaches down and sets a finger on the back of your hand. It jitters uncontrollably, and he smirks.

“Is that what you’re calling it now?” he asks smoothly, moving his fingers back to your cunt. “My fleshlight?”

“Gross,” you snap. “Don’t ever call my pussy—ungh.”

Sukuna grins, settling his hand comfortably inside your panties and sliding his fingers through your folds. You can feel how wet you are, how the slick clings to him. He finds your clit again, easy, and every pass of his rough skin against it sends a rush of heat soaring stubbornly up your chest. Rising and falling, back and forth like a bow dragging deliberate against the strings of a violin. You tremble, and he grins, satisfied. 

Then his expression shifts into something thoughtful. You see the idea occur to him in real time. “Can I spit on it?”

The question throws you. “What?”

“On my fleshlight.” He smirks, but your brain hasn’t caught up.  He looks at you, unapologetic. “On your pussy. Saw it in a porno.”

Spit? The thought rattles in your chest, but you don’t want him to see. “You gonna eat it?” you challenge.

Shit. You’re not sure—maybe that was a bad idea.

You size each other up nervously.

“You gonna let me eat it?” he says eventually, eyes trained on your face. 

Smart, asking you like that. Are you?

“…yeah.” His face lights up, and it makes you bold. “I’ll let you spit on it, if,” you break out into a grin. “If you can make me come.”

He makes a face. “That’s fucking stupid. The spit is lube, why would I do it after?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, tonight you’re spitting for glory.”

He stares at you. “Idiot.”

“Okay, then don’t do it!” you say, feeling suddenly stupid.

“No, I’m gonna do it,” Sukuna says, like it’s obvious. “I’m just saying, your order of operations is fucked.”

You swallow down a pounding heart. “You seem very confident that you’re going to make me come at all.”

He scoffs easily. “I found your clit in less than a second, I’m going two for two.” He grins. “Come on, open up.”

You freeze, then twitch your thighs open. You don’t—you’re scared to look at him as he carefully pulls back, resting on his knees. It feels—it’s shockingly vulnerable, stretching yourself wide like this. Like you’re, like you’re presenting yourself to him. There’s nowhere for him to look but your cunt.

You look resolutely at the ceiling. You feel his hands hook around the edge of your panties. Skin screaming, you bat his hands away and pull them off yourself.

Mechanically, your thighs part again. You grit your teeth and force them not to shake, bracing for—for whatever’s about to happen.

You’re, suddenly, blindingly afraid of what’s about to happen.

Eyes on the ceiling, braced, waiting. Tensed in—in an anticipation that thrums, that burns and shivers.

Sukuna doesn’t move. Your muscles coil tighter.

Eventually: “Tch.”

You close your eyes. If he’s—if Sukuna’s fucking smirking, if he’s laughing at you, you’re sure you’ll die.

You crane your neck to look at him. Sukuna’s bent low, tucked between your thighs. He isn’t smiling, his face is blank, with something nibbling at the edges. Like he’s waiting, too.

Maybe he is. He’s not touching you at all, you realize, eyes searching your face. 

You can leave, you realize with a jolt. You can haul yourself off this bed right now and disappear, if you want.

The thought settles you. You meet Sukuna’s eyes and swallow thickly.

“Come on then, rich boy. Or are you getting cold feet?”

“Am I getting cold feet about putting my tongue on this pussy?” he repeats flatly. “Are you fucking insane?”

Before you can reply, he leans down and flattens tongue against you.

You gasp. It’s—warm. Wet. Intensely strange, the weirdest sensation you’ve ever felt in your life. You’re almost not sure you like it.

Then Sukuna twitches like he’s been kicked. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, then licks furiously, a long drag that paints your cunt from top to bottom.

W—weird. Awesome. You spasm, thighs clenching around his head. Your back arches. Yeah, you like it.

Sukuna jerks again, then grabs you roughly by the ankle. “Come on, put it—” he throws your leg over his shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he hisses, eyes on your cunt.

You raise an eyebrow, voice shaking. “Sukuna, it’s my fucking pussy.” You’ve gone down there with a mirror, it looks…weird.

Weird, and hairy. Shit, you didn’t even think of that, is he grossed out? Shit, shit—

“Yeah.” Sukuna smirks unabashedly. “And your fucking pussy’s in my face.” He blows a long stream of air over it, and your hips jerk, almost hitting him in the nose. “Yes,” he hisses, like he’s scored a point.

“Inspired by porn, again?” you pant, flailing around for your cool.

“Damn right,” he growls. “Now where’s your fucking clit?”

“It’s—” you actually have no idea how to describe the location.

“I’m not asking you, idiot, I don’t need your damn help,” he huffs.

“Then who are you fucking asking?”

“Reddit. Sub thread, ‘pin-the-tongue-on-the-clit.’” He sets about exploring your folds with the tip of his tongue.

“Ho-ly fuck,” you grit out. It feels so fucking strange, you think, sparks exploding over your skin, heat cutting at your navel. Your hips writhe, your hands grip the sheets. 

“Why are you so fucking stupid,” Sukuna mutters. He grabs your hands and shoves them into his hair. “Show some fucking initiative.”

“You’re—you’re the stupid one—ohmygodohmygod—”

“Sure. I’m the stupid one.” Sukuna slides his tongue to the top of your cunt, moving it carefully until—

You jolt, heat piercing through you. 

“Jackpot,” he murmurs.

You lean down to glare at him. “You did not just say fucking ‘jackpot’ when you found my—ooohhhh.” His tongue does—something, and your heel over his shoulder thumps against his back.

Sukuna seems dazed by the hit, until he remembers himself. “Ooohhh,” he mimics, laving against the spot, dragging his tongue messily over it again and again.

Heat again, turning you molten. Over and over, hitting you in the gut as he flicks his tongue. Your fingers curl instinctively into his hair, holding tight enough to rip it out.

“Christ, don’t fucking bald me,” Sukuna mutters.

“You put them there,” you remind him. “Don’t complain when I—mmph!” You cram a fist in your mouth to keep from screaming as the rough hot of his tongue runs over you. You feel it sharp, all the way down to your toes. Fuck, it feels so fucking good.

“Huh. Didn’t realize I’d find your ‘shut up’ button,” he says meditatively.

“Shut up,” you growl, trying to get a lid on the—the heat, that’s just—just fucking bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

Then you look down. Like a predator, Sukuna senses your eyes on him and meets them. Eyebrow raised, smirk on. Normal asshole behavior.

Then your eyes dip further. His chin is wet.

Wet. 

Slamming your eyes shut, you grab his hair again and shove his face back into your pussy. Your core—your entire body tenses, wound so tight your toes curl.

He licks again. Tighter, tighter. Sukuna’s nose brushes your clit. The pressure expands, cracks, blows through you. You come on his face with a fucking squeak.

Heat rolls through you like a wave, pulling you under; lapping gently. Your skin buzzes, your stomach seizes.

From below: “Did you just fucking ‘squeak?’ 

You can’t answer, not yet. Sukuna doesn’t let up. “Did my tongue turn you into fucking Mickey Mouse?” 

You glare at him. “I came, dipshit.”

That wipes Sukuna’s face blank. “Really?”

You nod carefully.

Then the bastard goes ecstatic. “Damn,” he sucks his teeth and grins. “I’m already two for two, and you’ve barely looked at my cock.”

You growl furiously. It’s gas to his ego. “Bet you can’t even find it,” he goads. “Bet you can’t even make me come.”

You let out an ugly snort, you can’t help it. “Sukuna, we both know you’re going to blow your load the second your teensy little virgin dick gets anywhere near my cunt.”

You expect him to rise to the bait, but he looks up at you angelically. “My virgin tongue did juuuuust fine making you come, or did you lie?”

His grin stills, his eyes turn just a touch serious. The question stands: did you lie? 

You could fuck with him. Instead—

 “No,” you answer honestly. “Why, you going for clout?”

“Personal pride,” he says easily. He makes to get up, but you use the leg you’ve got hooked over his shoulder to hold him in place.

Sukuna’s hips stutter. You file that away for later. 

“You—” he said virgin tongue. “You’ve never done that with anyone else?”

He scoffs. “Christ, no. Who the fuck else would I do this with?”

That slaps you clean across the face. You look down, wide-eyed. He shrugs, taking it in stride.

“Who—who else will let you spit on their pussy?” you say shakily, going for jokes.

His lips twitch; shark smile. “My thoughts exactly.”

Sukuna’s palms hit your thighs, pressing them apart. The look of him, big hands splayed across your skin, makes you shiver. You swing wild to cover for it.

“You jerk off to this?” You work to make your voice teasing. And maybe the swing wasn’t so wild, because Sukuna tenses below you.

It takes the teeth out of your question. “Do you?”

He huffs out a breath, close enough to make you tremble. “Yeah.”

You’re caught on that, for a moment, snared like it’s a hook beneath your chin. 

His words dangle awkwardly. You don’t want to say the wrong thing, so you don’t say anything.

Sukuna stares up at you, jaw tight. His eyes are looking for something, you know that much. You try and school your expression into—into whatever it is he wants from you.

You must manage, because his face smooths out; eyes lidded and low. “You gonna let me do it?” His voice is a murmur, a soft challenge.

For a moment, he strikes you stone dumb. Sukuna is so stupidly, absurdly attractive, the kind that floors you with one hit. You always forget he can do that; let his eyes burn down to the coals and his smile go heavy and silence you like he’s slapped his palm over your mouth.

You can’t speak, not with a face like that looking up at you. He clocks it, because he’s an asshole.

“Aw,” he croons meanly. “Got nothing to say?”

You growl, then jolt as his nose hits your clit again. Unfair, he shouldn’t have figured that out so quick.

“You want me to spit on it that bad?” Sukuna says delightedly.

He slides his nose back and forth, and your hips buck helplessly. “I—” You choke. “I don’t care if you—”

“Well, since you don’t care.” Sukuna grins evilly, hoists himself up onto his elbows, and spits.

To be fair, his aim is impeccable. You feel a cold something splat against you, and you can tell by the widening of his eyes that the bullet hit home.

“Fuck,” Sukuna says reverently.

You shift uncomfortably. It—it doesn’t really do anything for you. But Sukuna groans and starts rutting into the mattress. It’s kind of strange, how he works his hips like that, and you watch, fascinated despite yourself.

“Gonna make you come again,” he rasps without warning, then slams his thumb into your clit. 

“Ouch!” you hiss desperately, biting back a shriek as you instinctively jerk backwards. “Sukuna, your fucking nail!” He sucks his teeth, adjusts his thumb and keeps at it, swiping over your clit furiously.

“Sukuna.” You whine embarrassingly. You can’t help it, it came on so fast, it’s so much, it’s so fucking much. The heat, the pressure, the feeling of those red eyes boring into yours, it’s so much—

You gasp, thighs twitching around his head, back bowing as you come suddenly.

He keeps at it, working at your clit, and you kick him in the shoulder. “S’too much,” you cry, voice high and needy.

His hand stills. “You come again?”

Shame grips you. Is—is it something to be embarrassed about? That you came so fast?

“Y—yeah,” you mumble, not looking at him.

Silence for a moment. Then—

“Ha.” At first you think he’s laughing at you, and you whip your head up, gripping righteous indignation like a lifeline.

Then your gaze focuses, and you realize Sukuna’s grinning triumphantly. “Fuck, I am so good at this,” he crows gleefully.

You roll your eyes. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Oh, sure. Finding your clit on the first try and making you come twice is beginner’s luck.”

You scowl because you have nothing to say.

His smile grows impossibly wider. “Are you even good at this?” he goads.

That knocks you off-balance, because: are you?

The question settles at your throat. Are you good at this? What if—what if Sukuna’s just infinitely better at sex than you, and you can’t even make him come, and then he doesn’t want to see you anymore, and then—

You cut off the thought before it can take root. “Fuck me and find out,” you snap.

Then you freeze. So does Sukuna.

Fuck me and find out.

Is this—is this really—oh—okay.

You’re a little bit afraid, and you can’t keep it out of your eyes. It might be a trick of the light, but it looks like Sukuna is, too.

Slowly, like he’s afraid of startling the very bed itself, Sukuna rises to his knees, and begins to slide himself over you. Immediately, the thick length of his dick hits your thigh and rubs against it. You gasp; Sukuna grunts quietly.

It’s so—it’s so fucking big—how—how in the fuck are you supposed to—

“Sukuna,” you stop him desperately. He holds in place.

“You—you need to finger me,” you remind him shakily.

“Oh.” He shakes his head with a twitch. “Yeah, okay.” He moves back down, then meets your gaze resolutely, looking at you with tight, narrowed eyes.

His hands don’t move; he doesn’t know what to do. You almost laugh; compared to eating you out, this one feels obvious.

“Just—just put your finger in.”

“That’s it?”

This time you do laugh, just a small huff. “Yeah, I mean—it's not gonna bite you.”

He frowns indignantly, then shoves his finger inside. 

“Ouch!” you yell again. 

He jumps. “Shit. Did I—” 

“Just fucking wait,” you snap, holding stiff until the pain subsides. After a moment, you try to force yourself to relax. “Okay. You can move.”

Experimentally, he wiggles his finger around. You jerk, then frown at him. “Like, out and in.”

He stares at you dubiously. 

You stare back. “Haven’t you been researching this?”

“It didn’t come up,” he mutters. 

You roll your eyes. “Out of the way,” you mutter, reaching down and pulling his wrist to the side. “Look, like this.”

Gently, you bend your wrist and begin to finger yourself, sliding your longest finger in and out of your cunt. “See? Easy. Primal. Caveman shit.”

You look down at him expectantly. Sukuna isn’t looking at you; he’s got his eyes on your hand, absolutely engrossed by the sight of your fingers.

Something like vinegar hits your tongue, singes at your muscles. It seizes, squirms, you don’t know what to do with it. You move your hand away. “Just—just pretend it’s the dick, Sukuna. Out and in.”

He shakes, comes back to himself and smirks. “If it's the dick, my finger’s gotta be four times bigger.”

“That’s literally the point. That’s why we’re doing this.”

His smirk shows its teeth. “Opening you up to take my massive cock?”

You nearly roll your eyes again, because there’s only one answer. “Yes, Sukuna. Opening me up to—to take your massive cock.”

You make a face. Sukuna chokes back laughter. “That sounded like a porno,” you mutter.

“My dick twitched,” he agrees. “It recognized the call sign.”

“Oh my god.”

He does laugh, this time, then quickly brings his hand back to your cunt.

“Slow,” you tell him quickly. “Or it’ll hurt.”

He clicks his tongue, then carefully pushes his finger back in

It’s—uncomfortable. Much more blunt and awkward than when you do it. Deeper, too, the angle of your wrist can’t get nearly as deep as he can.

It almost hurts, and you grimace. He pulls out immediately.

You glance down. “What?”

He shifts on the bed. “Is it…do you want to stop?” He says it almost begrudgingly.

“Uh. No?”

Sukuna relaxes, but he squints up at you. “Looks like it hurts.”

“Yeah,” you say it like it’s obvious.

“Tch.” He turns his head to the side.

You try and figure out what the fuck he’s thinking. “…keep going,” you say eventually.

He squints at you. You shrug uncomfortably. “I think, it’s just, like—gonna hurt.”

Sukuna brings his hand back to your cunt, pushing a slow finger in. You wince.

He holds, waiting.

“S’okay.” You hook a leg back over his shoulder. “I, uh, did some of my own research,” you admit, shy despite yourself.

He flashes his teeth. “Reddit?”

“No, I asked my cousin, dumbass.” You roll your eyes. “She said it might hurt, that’s normal.”

Sukuna goes quiet, then. 

“What?”

He sucks his teeth, then looks at you seriously. “And you still want to do it?”

Oh. “I mean, yeah.” You feel your face heat up. “You—you already made me come.” Your voice shakes. “So.”

He pulls his hand away again. You frown, and he looks at you with narrowed eyes.

You scoff, turning away again. He waits you out.

“And I…I want to know what it feels like,” you mutter.

Your eyes are on the ceiling. He pinches your thigh, and you jolt, glaring down at him.

His gaze is thick and serious. “Me, too,” he admits gruffly, beginning to slide his finger in and out of you. “I want to know what this pussy feels like,” he adds, glancing down at his hand.

That lodges in your throat. For a moment, you think you’ll choke. Sukuna’s looking up at you, measured, like he’s not expecting anything from you.

You give it anyway. “I,” you take a deep breath. “I want to know what you feel like,” you say quietly.

His hand freezes. You tense around it, squeezing your eyes shut. Body coiled, ready to run, waiting for—

Sukuna moves his hand again. He raps his knuckles against your hip until you open your eyes, face pinched, scowling at him.

His face is placid, easy, open. “Me, too.”

Your mouth slackens in shock. He raises an eyebrow. The words hang between you; they glitter.

You can only stand it for a couple of seconds. Then, you ruin it. “You want to know what you feel like?”

Sukuna tsks. “Can’t leave well enough alone,” he mutters under his breath, before raising his voice. “Don’t worry, I know plenty what I feel like.”

He tenses at the admission, but you roll right through it. You weren’t lying, you realize. You want to know what he feels like.

“Here,” you breathe, gesturing at him. “Here, come on—” you grab at his shoulder, and Sukuna takes the hint, moving up the bed so he lies on his side next to you. Deliberately, you move a hand to his crotch, feeling around the outline of him. Sukuna twitches, and when you slip a hand into his boxers, he jerks away from you and wrestles them off, along with his shorts.

The air stills, again. You’re both naked, which is terrifying, but it—levels the playing field. You feel like you’re on more equal footing than you were a few seconds ago, when you were bare and he was hidden.

More equal, but—Sukuna’s naked. Which means you have his dick to contend with.

You shiver as he resettles himself. Terrifying. But also, a cool venture into the unknown. 

Curiosity has you leaning forward for a closer look. It’s big, you knew that. Almost a shame, you’re certain his ego spiked the second he grew it. It’s thick, too, mushroom tip ballooning over the shaft. 

You inch closer. Is there really a slit at the top, where you can see him jizz? You’d thought that was just a smut thing, but no, look, there it is.

Huh. It’s the first dick you’ve ever seen in person, and it is—it is so fucking odd-looking that you want to examine it all over. Unthinking, you reach out and take it in your hand.

First thought: warm. Like holding a—a warm worm that shakes

Second thought: it shook, what the hell

Third thought: Sukuna shook, what the hell—

And Sukuna did, jolted like your hand was a live wire. You look up at him, startled, only to see him glaring fiercely at the wall, teeth bared, jaw wound tight. 

You freeze, unsure of what’s happening. After a moment, he glances down at you. “Just gonna hold it?” He tries to joke, but his voice is sandpaper.

Experimentally, you give it a squeeze. He jumps again.

A kind of heady power fills you. You grin, and you see his throat bob.

You look down again, and a wave of weird dampens your high. You push through it, lifting his dick up to look at the underside.

Is there a vein that runs beneath it? You drag a finger along it, feeling here and there just to see.

“Shit,” Sukuna hisses brutally. 

You shiver. Huh. What does the slit feel like?

You walk your hand up to the head, sliding a careful finger over the top. You can feel the slit, you think abstractly, the flesh dips enough that you can dip the tip of your finger inside—

Sukuna gasps, jerks your hand away. You glance up again. He’s panting like an animal, grip on your wrist tight. “You keep doing that,” he says, voice strained, “and I’m gonna finish before I get to fuck you.”

You nod, swallow. The words settle in your gut, heavy and hot.

Carefully, you take him in your hand again, looking up at his face. He nods, exhaling. “Yeah, that’s—yeah.”

Turning back to his pelvis, you lift his dick to squint at his balls. They’re hard to see, you think, and you almost ask him to turn on his flashlight for a better look. They’re heavy; well, actually, are they? They look heavy.

You let go of his cock to cradle his balls. Again, Sukuna jumps. “What are you—fuck.”

He shifts beside you. Eyes on him; he’s got his fist pressed to his forehead, teeth grit. You press in with a thumb, and he bites down on his knuckle, eyes wild.

Wow. You keep your hand where it is, massaging lightly. Your fingertips meet coarse pubic hair that you’d swear is pink. The skin is wrinkly as fuck, and your fingers and palm keep catching on it. Annoying, so you pull back and lick over your hand, hoping to ease the friction.

You recoil instantly. Your hand tastes fucking terrible.

Beside you: “Holy fuck.”

You only get a glimpse of Sukuna’s awestruck, pained expression before he buries his head in your neck. You can feel his hot breath warm your skin.

Stunned, you hold for a moment, before putting your hand back where it was. Sukuna fucking, fucking groans.

Whoa. You’re suddenly overcome by the need to make him—make him fucking scream. Like a woman possessed, you shift downward, bending your head and pressing your mouth against his sack, huffing air onto it.

Sukuna snarls, twitches his hips forward, curls his body around you. You place a hand on his hip; reach out and lick him with your tongue.

Ugh. Dis-gust-ing, and your tongue hooks on his pubic hair. But worth it because Sukuna whines. Whines. 

Fucking hell. You lick again, pressing the flat of your tongue into the skin and dragging it up slowly. Sukuna lets out an aborted shout; you realize he’s brought a hand to his mouth so he can bite it.

That makes you twitch, yourself. You could say something, you think, something hot, like “let me hear you.” It’s true, you want to hear it, you want whatever sound he makes, whatever sound you make him make.

Your gut flares. You chicken out.

Instead, you lick again, sour-sweat taste hitting you hard. He jerks, moans, grabs wildly for your hand. “Here, fucking—” he guides it to his dick.

You freeze in shock. Just where does he get off? you think angrily. Christ alive, does this rich boy have balls.

Then you realize they’re in your mouth, and you almost burst out laughing.

Clearly unaware, Sukuna reaches back for your hand. “Wait, I’ll—” he takes your wrist in his hand and licks you from palm to fingertip.

Your brain chokes, your core stumbles. You stare at him dumbly.

Breath coming fast, Sukuna still manages to smirk at you. Rolling your eyes, you bring your hand to his dick and begin to stroke it gently.

“God, yes,” he hisses, hips rutting into your palm. Sukuna’s entire body jolts, moving towards you on instinct.

The sight of him in the dim light from his window nearly blinds you. Tattooed bands on his thighs flexing, lines on his abdomen jumping as you move your hand back and forth. You look up to see his biceps tense, bands popping, and you let yourself go a little crazy. 

Leaning back to his crotch, you stretch your mouth wide, as wide as you can go, and take his ballsack in your mouth.

Almost all of it, you can’t quite manage the whole thing, but you lick and suck and jerk your hand on his dick like your life depends on it.

Sukuna nearly shakes himself off the bed. “Holy shit, holy fucking shit, what the ever loving fuck—”

You grin, tongue flicking lightly. Your hand is wet, you realize, slick with what must be pre. Sukuna only lets you go on for another second before he snarls, hauling you up by the back of the neck.

You look at him indignantly. “I was in the middle of something.”

Sukuna stills, then laughs in disbelief. “Fucking obviously, but I was gonna come.”

Pleased heat flares over you. “You liked it.”

“Fucking obviously.” Sukuna pulls in long breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. “What,” he coughs, “what made you do that? You see it somewhere?” He gauges you through his lashes.

“Didn’t see it anywhere. Just pure ingenuity.” You tap the side of your head and grin knowingly. “Some of us are so good we don’t even need to research, we just figure it out in the field.”

He stares at you. “Congrats, you just made my dick soft.” You squeeze it, and he hisses.

“And now we know you like your balls getting played with,” you say happily.

Sukuna laughs grimly. “Save that for future use.”

The air thickens, sours. Future use. Will this happen again?

You look at each other, uncertain.

Sukuna moves first, twitching his hand to your cunt and gently slotting a finger into you.

You gasp, right back in it. “That’s it,” Sukuna mutters, then kisses you, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

You both pull back, grimacing. “You taste like pussy,” you say, gagging. The sharp, acrid taste of yourself fills your mouth.

“You taste like balls,” he coughs.

You size him up. “I’m cleaning the ick off.” Muttering, you lean down and slide your tongue against his shoulder.

Sukuna jolts, rutting into your hand that’s loosely clenched around his dick. Your muscles seize; you lick him again and he gasps.

Experimentally, you bite, and there’s that whine, again. It slips into your blood like adrenaline. Suddenly, you need everyone to know that he made that sound for you, that you dragged it out of him.

The hand on his hip clenches. Frenzied, panting, you move your mouth to his neck and bite, sucking a harsh mark onto his skin. You do it again, high, right under his chin so he can’t cover it up, so everyone who wants the pretty rich boy will know that you got to him first, you, you, you—

He grunts; raking sharp nails down your back. It stings, and you ignore it; or maybe you don’t, maybe that sharp drag spurs you on, because you just snarl and bite harder. His hand moves at your pussy, driving in and out, and it’s another point of pain but soon it’s edged with pleasure, and then it’s more pleasure than pain, and it’s so fucking good—

You gasp, pulling your face from his neck so you can moan and marvel at—at this feeling. Of—of being fucking stabbed with a blunt knife, blunt enough that it doesn’t cut it just presses. Jabs sharply. It shouldn’t feel good but it does, and soon you’re rocking down onto his hand, hips twitching to meet him in a move that’s so good you could die.

Then, Sukuna’s hand stops. You look up at him to protest, but the words melt when you see how wild he looks.

“W—what?”

“I—” Sukuna sucks his teeth, head flicking to the condoms sitting inches away. He looks at you, gaze narrowed.

A moment of dread, but you push it aside. “Y—yeah,” you say unsteadily.

Sukuna freezes, entire body tensed like he’s ready to bolt. Then his hand skitters to the nightstand, fishing a condom out of the box.

The world narrows to the little square of paper between his fingers.

Carefully, Sukuna tears it open, the sound of it echoing through the room.

You swallow, sure he can hear it.

Gently, his fingers pull the condom from the wrapper, dropping the discarded cover on the floor. Then he holds the condom up to his face, squinting.

Your throat unsticks. “What is it?”

“There’s like, a way to do it right,” he mutters. “It has to be facing a certain way, hold on.”

He wipes his hand on his bed sheet, then reaches for his phone, thumbing on the flashlight.

You wince. The light is bright, clinical, and you shy away on instinct.

“I know,” he grunts, “just—”

“No, uh.” You swallow again. “It’s, uh—thank you.”

You grimace. Awkward. But you meant it.

Sukuna throws you a glance, cracks a small smile. Then he takes a deep breath, checks the condom one more time, then settles it over his dick.

You hold your breath. Flashlight still on, he sets his phone on the bed and sets both hands around the condom, painstakingly rolling it down his length.

Wordlessly, you hold his phone, angling the light so he can get a better look.

Sukuna raises his eyebrow. You try to shrug; it’s more like a twitch.

He doesn’t comment. Instead, he keeps going, unfurling the latex down until it sits snug at his base.

Then, Sukuna looks at you; lets his eyes catch. He gives you a half smile that shakes.

“Yeah?”

You nod. He stares at you like he needs you to say it.

You nod again. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” His face flickers, uncertain, before settling into something expectant, waiting for you.

Waiting for you to move, you realize. Right. On all fours. Hesitantly, feeling slightly stupid, you raise yourself up onto your hands and knees.

Exhaling, Sukuna maneuvers himself behind you, kneeling on the bed.

You grimace. You can’t look at him. You feel ridiculous.

Warm hands find your hips. “Fucking christ,” Sukuna whispers.

Now you have to look. You crane your neck; Sukuna is looking at your ass like it’s the new religion, like it’s going to burn him alive.

Something hot wriggles under your skin; makes you soar. You want more of that look, so you arch your back and shake your hips back and forth.

His hands tighten almost painfully. “Don’t—don’t fucking do that or I’ll fucking come right now,” he grits out.

You grin, do it again. His hand cracks against your ass.

Your mouth falls open in shock. The hit stings, burns bright. He’s got a small smirk on, like you caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

“My bad.” Totally unapologetic.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean,” you say quickly. Then: 

“…you can do it again.”

Sukuna doesn’t waste a second, hand smacking sharp into the meat of your ass. It hurts, but the pain goes right to your navel, sparking like a flint striking stone.

You moan softly, and Sukuna snarls above you. “Fuck this, I need to—”

His hand leaves you, and soon you feel something nudging your entrance.

“Sukuna—” you snake a hand backwards and catch him by the wrist. “Go—can you go slow?”

Your voice trembles. “Yeah,” Sukuna breathes. “You know I—yeah.”

“O—okay.” You turn your head back around. “You can—yeah.”

He digs the heel of his hand into the flesh just above your ass. You reach out and tap his thigh.

Then, he moves, pushing himself into you.

You grunt immediately, muscles of your abdomen clenching brutally. Shit, shit, he’s so fucking big, oh my god, how are you meant to do this? Should you have done this with someone else?

The doubt strips you bare. Should you?

Sukuna holds, hips twitching slightly. “What,” he rasps; you can hear the restraint in his voice. “What’s going on?”

No, you couldn’t have done this with anyone else. It had to be him. 

The thought lodges in your throat, becomes a feeling that is huge and inevitable and very, very dangerous.

You try to push it away; it comes back and bites. You talk around it. 

“N—nothing,” your voice breaks.

He reaches down, hand finding your jaw comfortingly. “Is it—” he huffs. “Should we stop?”

Stop being so fucking nice, you think angrily. “No.”

He must sense the weird, because his body locks. You sigh, forcing yourself to fucking relax. “I’m good.”

“You su—”

Before he can finish, you push yourself backward, taking him a couple inches further inside you. It feels like you’re pussy’s gonna crack the fuck open, and you hiss.

His hand tightens on your jaw, hard enough to hurt. You wince, and he whips his hand away. A small whimper escapes you.

“Fuck, I didn’t—” Sukuna’s hand returns to your face, cradling it gently.

“I, uh—” you inhale sharply, gritting your teeth. It hurts, the rough drag of him stings, but you want to push through it. “Um, I—I want to keep going.”

Sukuna turns your head to face him. He looks at you for about a second before clicking his tongue. “Not buying it,” he says flatly.

“No, I do,” your voice is almost angry. “It’s just gonna—it’s gonna hurt, I know that, but I, I want to keep going.”

You swallow harshly. You do, you want to—to see it through.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask archly, a bite of insecurity closing around your throat.

Sukuna looks at you like you’re stupid. “Are you joking?” he asks in disbelief. “This is—you feel fucking insane.”

You can’t help it, your lips quirk into a small smile. “Yeah?”

He exhales, as if he can’t believe people like you are allowed to procreate. “Yeah, dipshit. This is—this is better than I fucking imagined.”

You can’t resist goading him. “And it’s not even all the way in.”

“And it’s not even all the way in,” he growls, moving his hand back to your hip. “I’m gonna—”

“—yeah.” He thrusts his hips, sinking deeper, splitting you wider. You feel like he’s poking at your stomach.

“How—” you choke down a gasp. “How far now?”

He struggles to catch his breath. “Halfway.”

Halfway? “Sukuna, what the fuck kind of monster dick do you have?” you growl furiously.

He snorts. “Aw, my bad,” he says again.

“Stop lying to me.” You wriggle your hips. “Come on, more—”

His hips snap forward; you blink back tears. 

“More?” he rasps.

“You are in my fucking chest,” you garble, “your dick is poking between my ribs.”

Sukuna lets out a shocked laugh. “Is this you getting stupid on my dick?”

“You’ll never make me stupid.” Some smoke detector beeps, tells you that’s a lie. 

You can’t take this anymore. “Just—just go until it’s all the way in,” you demand.

He holds. “You sure? There’s a lot—”

“Just do it!” you snap. He stills even further, you can hear him growl at you. You force your tone to soften. “I,” you take a deep breath. “I think it will get better, once—once you’ve gone all the way in.”

You turn your head to catch his eye. His face is uncharacteristically serious; jaw set, eyes trained on yours. 

You give him a small smile. “Come on, go.”

He inhales, pushes in with one mean thrust. You may have made a mistake.

Your body screams, cunt fucking burning, blistering around him all the way to your throat. Your arms buckle, and your face hits his sheets. You gather fabric between your teeth and bite down, frantically trying not to shriek.

“Jesus,” Sukuna pants. “Did I kill you?”

You can’t answer. His arm moves, you feel him reach out, and you grab his hand and squeeze bitterly.

“Shit,” he hisses.

“Yeah,” you mumble around the sheet.

He clears his throat. “Should I—”

You dig your nails into his hand. “Just—just give me a second.”

Letting go of his hand, you press both palms into the mattress and pull in sharp, trembling breaths. One after the other, in and out. 

Distantly, you register the warmth of his pelvis pressed against you, his thighs leaning into yours. Just from that, just from that little contact, you can feel the whole heat of him, stretching up into his strong body that leans over you, the hands that tentatively rub your back.

That part’s nice, you think, and your body loosens around him.

“Okay, uh. You can move but, uh. I’m gonna stay down here.” You cringe at yourself.

Sukuna barks a laugh, incredulous. “Yeah, please, stay down there. I don’t give a shit, my dick is not on planet Earth right now.”

You snort. “Your dick is inside my pussy.” A stupid line, but it pulls at you.

“And your pussy is not on planet Earth,” he says, dead serious. Strong hands grip your hips, and he cautiously slides himself out a couple inches before thrusting in again.

Your entire body jerks forward, face pushed along the mattress. You grit your teeth and try to hold firm.

“Fuck,” Sukuna laughs under his breath. “Your ass is shaking.”

“Physics,” you stutter.

“Incredible,” he says honestly. He moves again, pulling out just to slam himself forward.

You let out a groan. It still hurts, but your body is getting used to him, each slick slide a little less jolting, a little less painful.

Above you, Sukuna seems to be going stupid.

“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking tight what the fuck.” He picks up the pace, driving himself into you again and again.

You moan, whimper, but you don’t even think he can hear it. “Your ass is so fucking big, fuckfuckfuck you’re so good for me, this pussy is so fucking good holy shit—”

You choke out a laugh. “You take your idiot pills?” you manage weakly, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to even notice. You can’t turn to look at him, every thrust shoves your face deeper into the mattress, but you can hear him just fine, can feel the way his hands shake, his hips stutter. Sukuna’s falling apart.

That hits you in the teeth. Sukuna’s right there, right behind you, falling apart. Just—just from touching you.

That—you have to do something, you can’t just sit with that. His hand is at your hip, you twist your arm and grab him lightly by the wrist. Just, holding onto him.

His hips stutter again. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, and isn’t that just—amazing. Amazing. You feel you could cry.

“So good, so perfect for me,” he continues, “gonna come soon, shit, shit—”

The pain of him has just faded enough for it to feel good, really good. You start anticipating each thrust, body keening and moaning and sending aborted little screams up your throat. Fuck, it hurts; fuck, it feels good, it’s making you delirious.

Delirious enough to tell him so. “Fuck, Sukuna, feels really fucking good,” you whisper.

That, he hears. You let that escape, and his hips stop. You feel his dick twitch inside you.

A hand reaches down and grasps your shoulder. You jerk away on instinct, but he holds fast. 

“Nah, c’mon. Let me see.”

There’s glee in his voice, and it scares you. You debate for a moment, before giving in and turning around.

You’re tensed, braced for—for something vicious? You don’t even know. But Sukuna’s face is closer to amazement. He thrusts mildly. You crumple; you moan quietly.

He lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Y-yeah,” you croak.

Then, Sukuna gets mischievous. Holding your gaze, smirking lightly, he puts a hand to your head and gently presses it back down, back into the sheets.

You roll your eyes and let it happen. “Only ‘cause it’s you,” you mutter.

Your eyes squinch shut. You regret saying it immediately, and you want to kick yourself. That, that feels like something he can use against you. Tear it from your chest, fashion it into something sharp, and throw it back in your face.

He wouldn’t even need to fashion it, you realize in horror, it’s plenty sharp all on its own. You begin to panic. Shit. Shit.

Sukuna uses the hand on your head to tap your forehead. “Hey,” he demands, fingertip hitting again and again until you open your eyes.

You’re already scowling. “What?” you snap.

Sukuna looks at you, shakes his head, then grins crookedly. “Lucky me, then.”

Smooth bastard. You feel your chest lighten.

The smirk is back. “Now be a good girl.”

That lands in your gut like a stone. “Not that,” you say on reflex.

Sukuna hesitates, then slaps your ass again.

Heat. “That’s fine,” you say, a little out of breath.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, sounding slightly undone himself.

Before you can open your mouth, two hands on your hips drag you backward, yanking you flush against him. Sukuna pulls himself out and then snaps forward, fingers holding strong, making your body move with his.

It’s fucking excellent. You both grunt, groan, shake uncontrollably; you can feel Sukuna shake uncontrollably. Just when you think it’s going to be too much, Sukuna loses his rhythm. 

“Fuck,” he pants in your ear, “I’m gonna—shit gonna come soon, right now—”

He twitches, body spasming jerkily as he finishes. You wait for him to come down from the high, suddenly exhausted, breath huffing against the sheets.

Eventually, Sukuna leans forward, pressing his forehead into your back. “God almighty,” he mumbles, before pulling out of you.

You make a face as you feel his dick—exit. Weird.

He gets off the bed altogether, hissing lightly as he takes the condom off and throws it in the trash. Then he turns back to the bed and laughs in amazement. “You can—you can move, you know.”

You grimace. Yeah. Body like lead, you stretch your legs out and flop prone onto the mattress.

He snickers. “Freak,” he says, voice like warm water.

“You’re the one who spanked me,” you remind him, then slam your lips shut.

“And you liked it.” Sukuna climbs onto the bed. He settles beside you, then taps your shoulder until you turn to face him. He’s on his side, you’re on your stomach. You look at each other.

“That was wild,” he says with a smirk. A laugh bubbles out of you, and he shows his teeth. “My dick leave you intact?”

You think it over. Your cunt still hurts, even with the absence of him; you might even be sore tomorrow. But the ache is dim and dull, something you can manage.

“I’m okay,” you decide. The heat of his palms, of his touch, has leeched from your skin, and the AC in his room’s pumping. The cold air makes you shiver.

Sukuna notices. “Get closer,” he orders, reaching for you.

Get closer. You let him tug you against his chest. “Furnace boy over here,” you mutter as  his body heat slips into you. His abs twitch as he snorts.

You feel yourself go serious. “You—you okay?”

Sukuna pulls back to look at you incredulously. “You joking?” he growls. “I’ve never been fucking better.”

You laugh helplessly. “Furnace boy got his dick wet.”

“Furnace boy got his dick wet,” he agrees. Then his arm settles between your shoulder blades. He squeezes once.

You know what he means. You let your head knock against his chest.

Eventually, Sukuna tips your chin up and kisses you. It’s chaste, quick. You give it back, quick.

He grins. “I gotta wash my dick off, feels gross.” He gets off the bed. “You need the bathroom?”

Your pussy feels wet and sticky. “Uh, yeah, I need to—” you gesture at your crotch. “But—can I?”

Sukuna grimaces. If his parents spot you in the hallway, it would be a shit show. “Probably not,” he agrees. “Here, I’ll be back.”

He disappears for a few minutes. You stare at the ceiling and let the last hour wash over you.

That—Sukuna was—

You rub your eyes fiercely.

The doorknob turns, and Sukuna walks back in with a washcloth in his hands. He hands it to you, and you gently clean yourself off. “What do you—?”

“Give it here.” He puts it carelessly on his nightstand. You eye it warily. Gross.

“Listen, uh.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you want to put your underwear back on?”

Oh. Pragmatic. You wrinkle your nose. “Uh, not really.” But you’re wearing jean shorts. Not preferable for commando.

Sukuna seems to have anticipated the problem. “Wanna wear something of mine?”

You catch a gleam in his eye. “Perv,” you mutter. “Yeah, okay.”

Grinning in satisfaction, Sukuna crosses to his dresser.

“Find something from when you were, like, in utero,” you say, resigned.

“Not my fault puberty hit me hard,” he says easily, rooting around in a drawer. 

“But it is my problem,” you grumble.

“Damn right, it is,” he crows. “Here.” He tosses you a pair of basketball shorts; tugs on some boxers. “Tie it tight and roll them the fuck up.”

“‘Roll them the fuck up,’” you mimic. They still come down past your knees.

Sukuna’s lips twitch. “You look ridiculous.”

“It’s this or denim rubbing against my cunt,” you say unhappily. “Poor planning.”

“Think ahead next time,” Sukuna teases.

That punches you in the nose. Next time. Is this happening again?

Across the room, Sukuna’s gone stock-still. Apprehension crosses his face.

You turn and methodically begin to pull on your bra. 

“Idiot, I didn’t—” Sukuna crosses the room to put a hand on your waist. “I didn’t mean—”

You step back to pull your shirt over your head. “It’s late,” you say evenly. “I’ve got a long walk back.”

Sukuna opens his mouth, closes it. Inclines his head.

You find your shoes. Sukuna opens the door, and you duck under his arm, stepping carefully into the hallway.

You move first, light as a ghost and twice as out of place. Sukuna follows you, retracing your steps as you climb down the stairs, past the family portrait, out onto the back porch.

You pull on your shoes, crouching. Sukuna stands behind you, half inside the house, half out.

Taking a deep breath, you turn around to face him.

Sukuna looks how you feel, uncertainty hung tight over his shoulders.

The air is silent. Neither of you move. His face fills your eyes.

You cough. Someone has to speak first. “So, uh. I’m gonna, I’m gonna go.”

You hike a thumb over your shoulder. Sukuna exhales, long and low. “Yeah.”

Again, nothing. Dead air.

Someone has to move first.

You turn back to the door, fingers tightening on the handle. “Bye, Sukuna,” you mumble over your shoulder.

“Bye.”

You step outside. The screen door swings shut behind you, broken lock clinking awkwardly.

You don’t make it halfway down the steps before the screen door whistles again. A hand clasps around your arm.

You look over your shoulder. Sukuna’s face could skin a cat. “You broke the lock,” he says flatly.

Feeling caught out, like you did something wrong, you nod.

His nostrils flare. “You always pick it.”

Also true.

Sukuna’s hand on your arm tightens. “Why didn’t you just pick it?”

You don’t have an answer that makes sense. You want your face to be measured, but you think it’s helpless.

He rubs hand over his brow. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” he mutters under his breath. “Stay here. Don’t—don’t fucking leave.”

He gives you a strict look that nails your feet to the ground, then slips into the house. Before you can even consider bolting, he’s back on the porch, jamming his feet into his sneakers.

“Come on,” he growls, leading you to the driveway. “I’m driving you home.” 

You see the glint of car keys in his hand, AirTag firmly glued on. “Your dad will know,” you say softly.

“You broke the lock,” he fires back. “Go get in the fucking car.”

Sulking slightly, you open the passenger door and duck inside, shutting the door softly behind you. It’s probably the nicest car you’ll ever sit in, you think warily; the soft leather like butter against your arms.

Sukuna slams his body into the driver’s seat; you can see the restraint in his bicep as he shuts the door. He tips his head down and takes a couple of deep breaths, clearly furious.

“Why do you always get so fucking mad,” you mutter.

Resolutely, face like stone, Sukuna puts the key into the ignition. The engine starts, purrs, and he quickly backs out of the driveway and onto the road.

You stare out the window. Almost an hour if you walk, but Sukuna will reach your parents’ house in fifteen minutes.

You rest your head against the window, breath fogging up the glass.

“You’re leaving,” Sukuna says abruptly. “After we graduate.”

Your eyes dart to him. He’s not looking at you,  he’s looking at the road, driving obscenely careful.

“Yeah.” Your voice doesn’t shake, doesn’t give an inch. Yeah, you’re leaving. You have to.

He’d better not ask you why.

He doesn’t. He just says, “where?”

Heh. “D’unno.” You’ll figure it out.

He’d better not call you out on that.

He doesn’t, just nods slowly.

“You’re staying,” you say after a moment.

“Yeah. They got me part-time at the university so I can work with my old man.”

The fancy university, you add in your head. The expensive university.

“Good for you.” It comes out like you mean it, thank god.

He scoffs anyway. “Sure.”

Silence, again. He wants to say something, and you can guess what it is.

“You coming back?”

Right. You close your eyes; you don’t know.

Sukuna catches your hesitation, makes a low sound in his throat. “Maybe,” you answer honestly.

He looks at you then, eyes cheating away from the road. Sukuna’s face is—guarded. Dubious.

You meet his gaze for a moment, then flick your eyes away, glaring out the window. It’s true, or at least, you think it is. You don’t know if you’re coming back.

The car is silent until you get to your house. Sukuna kills the headlights, then the engine. You sit in the dark.

Sukuna clears his throat. “You marked me the fuck up.”

You look over; he’s got the visor down and examines himself in the mirror. “Fucking Christ.”

You see for yourself. The dash throws harsh, LED light over his skin, and he didn’t  bother to put on a shirt. You stare for a moment, at the slick lines of his muscles, the dead beauty of his tattoos.

The blush-red splotches that dot his neck. Ringed with teeth.

Something comes over you as you look at them, something that reaches out and takes and plays for keeps. It has you setting a finger against one of them and pressing.

Sukuna jolts, raising his eyebrows. You allow yourself to smile. 

Dangerous. The act of giving it, the smile itself. You wear it anyway and let him have it.

He swallows. You feel you’ve been electrocuted.

“Can’t cover this shit up,” he grumbles, but his eyes are glued to your face.

You add something deep to your gaze. “No,” you agree. “Gonna have to wear them to school tomorrow.”

He freezes. Your smile sharpens. You did that.

Sukuna reaches out and gently grabs your jaw. “Let me give you one, then.” He arcs an eyebrow with a smirk. “So everyone knows this was you.”

Your turn to freeze, your turn to tremble. Your fingers dig into his borrowed shorts.

“O—okay.” You nod. He holds your face in both hands and leans forward, tilting your head so he can press a kiss to your neck, just below the hinge of your jaw.

It’s a kiss, for a moment. Then he sucks hard and adds teeth. You shiver violently.

He’s about to stop, you can feel him tense to pull away, but you slide a hand into his hair and keep him there. He smiles, licks over the bite.

You exhale, drop your hand. He leans back to admire his work.

His eyes jump. You press on the mark experimentally with your fingers. “Now everyone will know,” you say. Your hand pulses into a fist.

“Tch.” Sukuna glances back to himself in the mirror. He looks back at you; your one mark to his ten. “Everyone will know you’re a damn freak.”

You smile serenely. That’s okay.

He clicks his tongue, gives you a smirk. You roll your eyes.

Then you glance out the window, looking at your front door. Sukuna clocks it. “You coming back tomorrow?”

You try to hold yourself in place, but your eyes fly to him. Tomorrow night? Are you going back?

Yeah. Yeah, you want to, and you know he wants you to.

“I need to,” you say, realization dawning. “I left my shorts on your bedroom floor.”

“Oh, shit,” Sukuna’s grin unfurls like a flag. “Did you?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, disarmed enough to smile in disbelief. He did that on purpose?

“So forgetful,” he admonishes, rapping his knuckles on your head.

You grab him by the wrist, grinning outright. “Yeah, dipshit, now I gotta come back tomorrow.”

His arm flexes. “Yeah,” he agrees, “now you gotta come back.”

You share a grin. Sukuna could just give you the shorts at school tomorrow. But you won’t ask him to, and he’ll hold them until you sneak into his house again, until you pick the newly-repaired lock on the screen door and slither into his bedroom and take him for yourself.

Your grip on his wrist tightens. He twists his arm inside it.

You let him go and open the car door. Warm June air floods the car. “Bye, Sukuna.” 

One foot outside, and you begin to climb out. “See you tomorrow,” he says quietly.

You turn your head and fuck with him. “At school.” You make it all the way out of the car before Sukuna reaches out and snatches your hand. 

“Tch. And after,” he says pointedly.

Your hand grips his. “And after.”

You stay like that, for a moment. Then you let go and shut the door behind you.

Soft humidity envelops you, heat sticking to your armpits, your elbows, between your breasts. Your house swims up in front of you.

You stand still. You feel very far from the cool of his bedroom, the wide expanse of his bed.

Sukuna starts the car. He won’t leave until you’ve made it inside, you know that by now. You hold a moment, wave, and walk up your front steps. Let yourself inside the house, then turn and watch through the window as Sukuna’s taillights fade.

Then you cross to the bathroom. Shut the door, flick on the light, and there it is. Sukuna’s mouth, a purpling mark, right there on your neck.

You stare at it, momentarily stunned. That pretty rich boy wants you.

Then—

Sukuna wants you.

That rings in your bones. Your hands grip the sides of the sink; your forehead hits the glass of the mirror.

You exhale, once, twice. Then you straighten up. Pee, brush your teeth. Switch off the light and walk into your bedroom. 

Your younger sister sleeps soundly in the corner. Your bed waits by the window; you carefully climb into it, mindful of the squeaking springs.

You lay back, eyes on the ceiling. You’re still in his shorts. Something cracks through you; you wish you were still in Sukuna’s bed.

You handle that very, very carefully. Worrisome, dangerous.

You’re going back tomorrow night, you remind yourself to quiet the feeling. You are, you’ll be there again.

Will you? You said you would, but—you don’t have to.

You think over—what happened. Think of Sukuna and his hands, covering all of you and swallowing you whole.

Your throat goes tight. Here, in the safety of your room, in the safety of the dark, you can admit this to yourself: you’re glad it was him. You’re really, really glad it was him, you don’t want it to have been anyone else. 

You might not want it to be anyone else.

Dangerous. You might need to lock that one down.

Your head lolls to the side, you stare out the window. The moon is high in the sky; it’s almost tomorrow. 

It’s almost tomorrow, and then it’ll be tomorrow night, and you’ll walk for forty-five minutes so Sukuna can welcome you into his bed and you can get some of that white lightning. That soft heat that warms you up, even now. That only seems to come from him.

You look out the window. It’s late. It’s almost tomorrow. Soon, you’ll go back.

You roll over, close your eyes. Let sleep take you whenever it’s ready.

an: ...I said "expect something more between one and five million business days" that was on the original post...and by god...i delivered on my promise...

I am an “all things from the body taste bad” truther, but i talked to @belimah and realized that might not reflect everyone's experience. if you think vagina and balls taste good, I salute you. i may write a short follow up to this, i really love these two they mean so much to me. they love with their whole hearts

req tags: @julieisafreakforfanfiction @volcanicnomadlocket

Sukuna perm taglist: @fantastucbaby @ryosphere @touyaonmymind @aschwppes @mutedwinter @riribugged @superjelly0us @dawnsoblivion @knb-1 @sukunash0e @chososcupoftea

The retaliation, however, was immediate.

For the rest of the afternoon, Sukuna was a nightmare. He was sulking, which for him meant stomping around the apartment, slamming cabinet doors just a little too hard, and giving you the silent treatment.

By the time dinner rolled around, the silence was deafening. You had ordered Thai takeout, his favorite, as a peace offering. He sat across from you at the kitchen island, aggressively stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.

He wasn’t looking at you. He was staring dead ahead, his eyes fixed on the blank, black screen of the television in the living room. He looked so utterly pathetic, like a massive, tattooed dog that had been told it couldn’t chase the mailman anymore.

You chewed your noodles, watching him. “You’re going to burn a hole in the TV.”

“I’m mourning,” he deadpanned, not breaking eye contact with the screen.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being oppressed in my own home.”

You rolled your eyes, but a pang of guilt hit your chest. He really did look miserable. You knew gaming was his way to blow off steam, even if it had completely derailed your domestic life lately.

You let out a long sigh, pushing your empty carton away. “Okay. Look.”

Sukuna finally shifted his gaze to you, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

You stood up, walked over to the TV stand, and opened the bottom drawer. You pulled out your Nintendo Switch, the pastel joy-cons a stark contrast to the sleek, aggressive black-and-white aesthetic of his beloved PS5. You walked back over and set it on the counter next to his plate.

He stared at it. Then he looked up at you. “What the fuck is that.”

“It’s my Switch,” you said. “You can play it tonight. So you don’t die of boredom.”

Sukuna scoffed, a harsh, dismissive sound. “I’m not playing that tiny piece of plastic. What does it even have on it? Mario? I’m not jumping on fucking turtles, woman.”

“It has a lot of games,” you defended, crossing your arms. “Zelda. Mario Kart. Animal Crossing.”

“What the hell is an Animal Crossing.”

“It’s a life simulation game. You build an island, you talk to animal villagers, you fish, you catch bugs. It’s relaxing.”

Sukuna stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. “You want me. To catch bugs. With cartoon animals.”

“I’m just offering!” you threw your hands up. “Take it or leave it. But the PS5 stays in the closet.”

He didn’t touch it. He just went back to aggressively eating his Pad Thai. You shrugged, picking up your dishes and moving to the sink. You figured he wouldn’t touch it. It wasn’t exactly his brand of violent, high-stakes entertainment.

You went through your evening routine, took a shower, and climbed into bed around eleven. Sukuna was still on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. You called out a goodnight, he grunted in response, and you drifted off to sleep, enjoying the rare silence of the apartment.

You woke up because you were cold.

You shifted, reaching out blindly to pull the duvet back over your shoulders, and your hand hit a solid, warm wall of muscle. Sukuna was in bed.

You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the dark room. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:14 AM.

He was lying on his side, his broad back turned to you. The blanket was pulled up to his waist, and the room was bathed in a faint, bluish glow.

And then, you heard it.

“Hehehe.”

Your blood ran cold. Sukuna did not giggle. He smirked, he chuckled darkly, he laughed like a maniac when he was fighting someone. But he did not giggle. It was a soft, genuinely amused sound that felt entirely alien coming from him.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, leaning over his massive shoulder to see what the hell was going on.

He was holding your Switch.

You squinted at the screen. He was playing Animal Crossing. Your save file.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Sukuna jumped slightly, his shoulders tensing before he relaxed, not bothering to turn around. “Go back to sleep, baby. I’m busy.”

You rubbed your eyes, leaning closer. On the screen, your carefully curated character was running around the town plaza. But something was wrong.

“Why are you holding a net?” you asked.

“Because I’m teaching this smug little shit a lesson,” Sukuna replied, his thumbs moving rapidly over the joy-cons.

You watched in absolute horror as your character sprinted up to Raymond, the smug cat villager it had taken you three months and four hundred Nook Miles Tickets to find, and brought the bug net down hard on his head.

Thwack.

Raymond got a little squiggly angry cloud over his head.

“Sukuna!” you gasped, fully awake now. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Thwack. He hit him again.

“He looked at me funny,” Sukuna said casually, his eyes glued to the screen. “And he told me my outfit was ‘quaint’.”

“He’s a pixelated cat! Stop hitting him!” You reached over his shoulder, trying to grab the console, but Sukuna just shifted his weight, easily blocking you with his massive frame.

“Hold on, I’m not done. He needs to learn his place in the hierarchy.”

“There is no hierarchy in Animal Crossing! Give me the Switch!”

“No,” he said, and you heard that terrifying little giggle again as Raymond stomped around angrily on the screen. “This game is actually kind of realistic. If you hit them enough, they get pissed.”

You scrambled over him, practically straddling his waist to get a better look at the screen. “What else have you done?”

You snatched the Switch out of his hands before he could react. He let out a loud “Hey!” but you ignored him, your eyes scanning the screen.

Your beautiful, five-star island. Your meticulously planned orchard.

“Where are my money trees?” you asked, your voice dangerously quiet.

Sukuna crossed his arms behind his head, looking up at you with a completely unapologetic smirk. “I chopped them down.”

“You… you chopped them down? Why?!”

“I needed the wood.”

“For what?!”

“To build fences.”

You quickly opened the map and ran your character over to the residential area. There, trapped in a tiny, one-by-one square of barbed wire fencing, was Shino the deer.

“You imprisoned Shino?!” you shrieked.

“She wouldn’t stop singing in the plaza,” Sukuna defended himself, sounding entirely too rational for a man who had just committed digital kidnapping. “She was pissing the shit out of me. I was trying to fish.”

“You can’t just lock up the villagers because they annoy you!”

“I just did. And honestly, the island runs much smoother now under my jurisdiction.”

“Your jurisdiction? It’s my island! The island is named ‘Peachy Keen’, Sukuna, you are not a dictator here!”

“I’m the King of Curses, woman. I rule wherever I go. Even on Peachy Keen.” He reached up, trying to grab the Switch back. “Now give it here, I was about to go hit Tom Nook. That capitalist raccoon has been charging me out the ass for a bridge.”

“No!” You held the console out of his reach, glaring down at him. “You ruined my island! Do you know how long it took me to grow those trees?”

“Just plant more.”

“That takes days!”

“So? You play this stupid game every day anyway.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving. It was 3:30 in the morning. You were arguing about a virtual raccoon and a kidnapped deer with a man who could probably bench-press a car. The absurdity of it all should have been funny, but you were genuinely pissed. You had offered him an olive branch, and he had used it to beat your favorite villagers.

“You’re an asshole,” you snapped, climbing off him and tossing the Switch onto the nightstand.

Sukuna’s smirk faltered slightly. “Don’t be dramatic, baby. It’s a bunch of pixels.”

“It’s the principle, Sukuna!” you argued, grabbing your pillow from the bed. “I tried to do something nice for you because you were sulking like a giant baby about your PS5, and you repay me by terrorizing my island!”

He sat up, the blanket falling away from his bare chest. “Where are you going?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“Are you serious?” He let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his messy pink hair. “Over a video game? You’re the one who confiscated my console!”

“Yeah, because you were ruining my sleep! And now you’re ruining my game! You just ruin everything tonight, don’t you?”

You didn’t wait for his response. You turned on your heel and marched out of the bedroom, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor.

You made it to the living room, tossing your pillow onto the sofa and grabbing the throw blanket. You were just settling in, aggressively fluffing the pillow, when heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Sukuna appeared in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space. He looked annoyed, his jaw tight, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or just frustration that his warm bed was now empty.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble.

“No.”

“Woman, get your ass back in bed.”

“I said no. Leave me alone.” You turned your back to him, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

He stood there for a long moment. You could hear him breathing, the heavy, measured breaths of a man trying very hard to keep his temper in check.

“Fine,” he finally snapped. “I’ll sleep out here. You take the bed.”

“No,” you shot back immediately. “I’m already comfortable. Go away.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch because you’re throwing a tantrum over a cartoon cat.”

“And I’m not moving. So unless you’re going to physically pick me up and carry me, which will only make me madder, you should just go back to bed.”

Silence.

You waited for him to argue, or to actually just pick you up—which he did sometimes when you were being stubborn—but he didn’t.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Be a brat.”

He turned and walked back down the hall. You heard the bedroom door click shut.

You lay there in the dark, staring at the back of the couch. You were still mad, but the adrenaline was fading, leaving you just exhausted. You closed your eyes, determined to sleep out of pure spite.

When you woke up, your neck hurt.

The couch was, in fact, lumpy. You groaned, rolling over onto your back and rubbing your eyes. Sunlight was streaming through the living room blinds, and the apartment smelled incredible.

Bacon. And fresh coffee.

You sat up slowly, the throw blanket pooling at your waist. You looked toward the kitchen.

Sukuna was standing at the stove, shirtless, wearing only his gray sweatpants. He was flipping bacon with a pair of tongs, his back to you. The sight of him, all broad shoulders and intricate black tattoos, doing something as domestic as cooking breakfast, always gave you a weird sense of whiplash.

He heard you shift on the couch and glanced over his shoulder.

“You’re awake,” he noted, his voice rough with sleep.

“Obviously,” you croaked, your throat dry.

He turned back to the stove, turning off the burner. He plated the food, poured two mugs of coffee, and walked over to the living room. He set the mugs on the coffee table and handed you a plate of eggs and bacon.

You took it suspiciously. “Are you trying to poison me?”

“If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t use bacon,” he replied smoothly, sitting down on the coffee table directly in front of you. His knees bumped against yours.

He looked at you, his crimson eyes searching your face. The grumpy, combative energy from last night was gone. He just looked… soft. Well, as soft as the King of Curses could look.

“Still mad?” he asked quietly.

You took a bite of a piece of bacon. It was cooked perfectly. “A little.”

Sukuna sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I fixed your island.”

You paused mid-chew. “What?”

“I woke up early. I went back on the game.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely embarrassed. “I let the deer out of the fence. And I planted new trees.”

You stared at him. “You can’t just plant money trees, Sukuna. You have to find the glowing spot on the ground.”

“I found them,” he said defensively. “I ran around the whole damn island until I found them. And I buried the bells. Ten thousand, just like the internet said.”

You blinked. “You Googled how to fix my Animal Crossing island?”

A faint dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks, blending into his tattoos. “Shut up. I’m just saying, I fixed it. And I didn’t hit the cat today.”

You couldn’t help it. A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. The image of this massive, terrifying man furiously Googling Animal Crossing mechanics at six in the morning was too much.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He grunted, reaching out to trace a finger over your knee. “I’m sorry I was a dick last night. And yesterday. I was just pissed about the PS5.”

“I know.” You set your plate down on the table next to your coffee. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you really do need to fix your sleep schedule, Sukuna. I miss you. I feel like we’re just roommates who occasionally pass each other in the hallway.”

His expression softened completely. He moved from the coffee table to the couch, sliding in right next to you. He wrapped a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his warm side. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll fix it. I’ll stay off the game for a week. How about that?”

You looked up at him, surprised. “A whole week? Are you going to survive?”

“Barely,” he rolled his eyes. “But I’ll manage. If it gets my girl back in my bed instead of on this shitty couch, I’ll survive.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Deal.”

You sat there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the warmth of him. It was nice. This was the Sukuna you loved—the one beneath the abrasive, terrifying exterior.

“You know,” you said thoughtfully, breaking the silence. “We don’t have to completely ban games. We could just play something together. During normal hours.”

Sukuna looked down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Like what? More animal chores?”

“No, like a co-op game. Something we can both play on the PS5. Like It Takes Two. Or Overcooked.”

“What’s Overcooked?”

“It’s a cooking game. We run a kitchen together and have to serve orders before the time runs out.”

Sukuna scoffed, a confident smirk spreading across his face. “Baby, I would dominate a cooking game. I’m a master chef. Look at this bacon.”

“It gets really stressful,” you warned him, laughing. “People scream at each other. It ruins relationships.”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. “I’m the King of Curses. A little virtual kitchen isn’t going to break us.”

You grinned, burying your face in his chest. “Okay. But if you trap me in a corner with a fire extinguisher, I’m confiscating the PS5 again.”

“Deal,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your cheek. “Now eat your breakfast, woman. We have a kitchen to run.”