#chuuing ren

You blink out of your own thoughts and sip on your beer, the malt leaving a creamy texture only someone who's familiar with it could feel. You sigh to yourself as your college friends continue to catch up with one another, loudly passing stories of the lives you no longer share. And here you were still thinking about it quietly. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, but something within you feels out of place. Or is it you wanting to get out, especially when Gojo mentions something about a drinking game.

Everyone internally groans, some loud yet still somehow he manages to make everyone participate, including quiet Sukuna. You almost chuckle thinking about it, he tries so hard to be serious.

You join in as well, pulling yourself off the minibar, not wanting to look more out of place than you feel. You gather around, the cool air and the bonfire in Geto's wide backyard pair up well in this nostalgic atmosphere. It's also perfect for Shoko who doesn't need to be left out now when she has to smoke outside.

You join her side when everyone forms a circle around, drink in hand. "What's he up to now?" You whisper, looking at how Gojo pulls a reluctant Nanami out of his chair.

She blows smoke out while looking in the opposite direction before looking back to talk to you. She chuckled while tapping the ash off her cig, "Beats me, he's acting like the host but it's not even his house."

"I heard that!" That yell draws attention to both you and Shoko giggling to each other. You look around, suddenly conscious of the eyes on you before the laugh dies in your throat as you meet a pair of all too familiar ones. You look away a little too fast, not even having enough time to curse to yourself quietly.

"First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who came today. I'm glad you all chose to acknowledge the existence of your college friends, I know it must be hard to be sincere-"

"Get on with it!!" Someone, who you're guessing is Geto, exclaimed from behind since Satoru continued to do the opposite.

He goes on about how it's been years (11 months exactly, it’s now June) since the last time you all completely got together. No one says it out loud but you're glad to see every close friend you've made in college here, there was probably an underlying feeling of uncertainty before each one of you arrived.

He continues with how back in your sophomore year of college, you stood in the exact same way on Nanami's birthday but while listing down predictions for you guys after graduation. You were probably too wasted at the time you participated that now there was only a faint memory of the night of Nanami's surprise party, most distinctly remembering the appalled look on his face when he turned on the light. Only to be welcomed by just half of the people he knew invited there and being blasted with a big-ass party popper.

You don't really know where Gojo's going until he pulls out a piece of paper, folded and looking a little creased up. He expected people to beam at it like he's holding a relic except his friends look at him in confusion or indifference.

"Guys! It's the list!" A chorus of sarcastic ah's and oh's emit from you all. He nods in approval of the correct reaction, "And I found some pretty good predictions here. Sooo good that I made a drinking game out of it." Now that peaks your collective interest. How bad could they be?

Hiromi, the ever skeptical heedful man he is, raised his hand and answered without waiting to be called, "Now when did we have time to list all of those ourselves while inebriated? And who's to say you didn't just list down some weird scenarios there if we don't even remember who wrote each? And I doubt we wrote our names next to them."

Gojo smirks looking around you all, you didn't wanna read into it but you felt like he stopped a second longer when he reached you before moving to look at everyone. "Trust me, you'll know who wrote it." He does a double take and raises both his thumbs before he picks up his beer from a stool.

It took so long explaining the rules that Utahime managed to make it in time, surprising you from behind. You greet her as your attention draws away from Gojo, she was your closest friend aside from Shoko within the group. You try to brief her on what's currently happening but ultimately just tune Gojo out as you got the gist of his instructions and focused on her.

Everyone gets back to their steady commotion when he and Suguru go back into the house to bring out trays of straight poison (whatever vile concoction he somehow kept prepared for this.) You lean into Utahimes side, grabbing her arm in excitement as you haven't seen each other in almost a month. You suddenly feel a lot more relaxed when surrounded by two of your best friends.

You catch up, talking about when you'll see each other again, work-life, and pointing fun at Gojo before Utahime asks more about the game so she could also participate. Shoko starts since you tuned out Gojo a little too much earlier that you also don't know all the rules, "So basically we pass around this list and we could choose to read aloud or fold the paper— and we drink if it actually happened to us, or if you’re the reader you can also not read aloud and choose to drink so you can move to the next person"

You huff, "What's the fun in that? you won't even know what was written if they choose not to say and fold it."

Shoko raises her index up, "The catch is, you have to wait for the next person to see it cause they can choose to read it out loud too or choose to fold it!"

"What if it's consecutively bad that they don’t read?"

"Then you’ll just have to pray that the person after you isn't messy, which in our friend group..." She looks at Utahime, then they both look at you.

"Ha ha, okay." You roll your eyes, a smile planted on your lips while you take another swig from the bottle.  They giggle and coo at you while you feign your indignation and look away. "Don't worry too much about it, all the stuff there was listed long ago."

Utahime perks up, "Ouhh that list from Nanami's party?" You both nod or make a noise of agreement. And then you pause, before letting your own mouth run without thinking.

"Do you remember what was there?" Your brow raised in question. "Did I put anything in?"

"Shit, I don't remember putting anything either." Shoko whispered, before taking a puff.

At this, Utahime's grin spreads ear to ear, realizing she has an upper hand over you both. Your eyes squint, trying to read her face but you’re left uncertain. She giggles to herself and gives Shoko a knowing look as well. Almost as if she got the message too, Shoko laughs.

You start to feel left out, but not in a way that hurts you, just enough for you to get a little curious. "Wait, please, what is it?"

Utahime smiles just thinking about it, and waves her hand in dismissal. "No, actually it's nothing. It was so long ago already," Shoko can't help but put a hand on your back, as if trying to comfort you and control herself from giggling at the same time to avoid giving you fomo. You look at them pleadingly and she caves, "I mean, it was all during the whole Sukuna spiel, remember?"

Shoko sucks her teeth before continuing, "Yeah of course she does, how could we forget." She rubs your arm and something in you stirs.

Utahime nods, a harmless expression on her face while your insides churn. “Holy— I can’t believe you were fucking around at one point."

Fucking around, yeah. You almost forgot how it was like that, at least to them. Your smile fades into something less, not fake, just less. You straighten yourself and laugh with them, almost to stave off the embarrassment you narrowly missed.

Suddenly you're a little nervous, and your hands start to feel kinda clammy.

Just in time to fill the silence, Satoru walks in with a tray of appletinis looking hella nuclear, and what you're assuming are Jaegermeister shots. You  grimace. 

Just how many predictions did you all put there?

***

“Satoru hype that shit up way too much.” Shoko comments, voice loud without having to yell. Your brow quirks up when you look down at her, leaning on your shoulder as she slumps onto you. 

The game started, and everyone had been reading them first, no one passing up. It got a little rowdier though when everyone started pulling up chairs and taking the shots. It starts mellowing out midway though, less competitive aside from Gojo who is still a lightweight, the air starts getting less tense for you and you find yourself enjoying the sound of  everyone sharing a laugh.

You wonder what Satoru was trying to do with bringing this out. Did he want to just fuck around or catch you lacking. If so, it’s his unlucky day because you’re on a roll by the second time you choose to not share something; also second least out of anyone who skipped, by the way.

Your lips folds shut into itself right after the bitter alcohol burns in your throat. You let out a parched noise, “That’s vile.”  You clear your throat and try to keep yourself from feeling the effects too soon. The game continues, and more and more does it feel like it’s easier to humor you.

Satoru finally gets financially cut off by his parents before the term ends

Geto gets caught faking results during a drug test

Shoko stops using cigs and starts vaping ‘cause she’s broke

And it goes on.

The game ends up turning into this mixture of just drinking and conversation starters. Everyone seems to have something to say with the level of accuracy events predicted had or if they counted. But this kind of vibe felt nice, like you were lighter now. 

Higuruma’s up when he gets the paper, this is the 17th one now, “Ah,” He looks up and chuckles to himself. Even someone as blunt as him started reacting a lot easier now. “Nanami,” He starts, “Nanami graduates top of the class without getting laid throughout college.” He looks up with an expectant grin. 

Everyone laughs at that (except the butt of the joke), some already pitching their own theories or coming to his defence. 

“That’s impossible, look at him-“

“So what if he’s still a virgin?”

Nanami stands, raising his hand, but low. Everyone turns to him, commotion dying and waiting for him to either bring the tiny shot glass between his fingers to his mouth, or to stand his ground. He raises the glass and opens his mouth before pausing. Then a small smile grows on his lips, “It was the night of graduation-“

“Impossible!” Satoru yells while Nanami’s smile falls just as fast when the blur of white hair from your vision stands up from his seat. The loud commotion grows with a chorus of laughter and a constant complaint of, “That’s not counted! That’s not counted!” Nanami didn’t even try entertaining him, sitting back down on his chair and dusting his slacks.

You leave Shoko by the chair (she drank the most shots currently), before walking over to Utahime who is currently standing nearer to the bonfire. “Is the game supposed to have a winner?”

She turns, making space for you to stand by her side, she shrugs, her eyes looking a little droopier now. You continue. “ ‘cause I feel like there should at least be a loser, like who’s you know,  the one most out of it first?” You both look at Satoru trying to re-explain the rules with too much passion. Your laughs stacked on top of each other, your cheeks hurt so badly from how much they stretched into a smile, but it's also numbed by the slight buzz in your system. “I think I’ve had good luck.”

A short silence follows, the cracks of the fireplace and the distant crickets creak in the trees. Utahime rubs her arms, warming herself. ”Well don’t jinx yourself,” She comments while staring at the fire, before turning her head to look at you with a cheeky glint in her eyes. 

For a moment you pause, her demeanor now mirrors her early reaction when you first mentioned the list. At first, you’re curious and squinting at her. What isn’t she telling me? Before looking at the sparse number of shots left on the tray, then back at her. You shake your head, “Nah, I’d win.” 

The commotion dies down and so does Satoru’s energy, seemingly taking a break when he dramatically lays back on the outdoor lounger. 

“We have 4 left to read! and…” Geto looks around, noting how Shoko, Nanami, and Gojo look near done from participating. “5 left of us.”  He claims, and no one protests.

The paper opens softly as Geto looks down at the list, then looks up, before looking down and contemplating to himself. 

He looks at the person next to him and it’s…Sukuna. Maybe it’s the mix of four different drinks in you or you’re just paranoid and Suguru just looks like that, but his eyes look like they’re smiling for him. 

A palm gently lands on your shoulder and you look back at Iori with her phone buzzing in her other hand. “Shit- it’s my boss. I’m gonna take this.” She looks at you then at Suguru, to which he nods to her in acknowledgment. It’s not long till you’re now alone with these three idiots after she leaves your side with a soft squeeze to your arm. You keep your focus back on Suguru.

You purposely keep your attention on just Suguru. 

“Four of us then,” You voice out, one of the first things you kind of directed at Sukuna, and with a tighter smile on your lips than normal. Geto beckons for you to come closer and you follow, not wanting to think much of it. 

Geto downs his shot quickly and your steps falter slightly on the way to them. It was a short 3 steps away but you wished your hesitation wasn’t noticeable. He’s already handing the paper to Sukuna when you stand a little off to the side, keeping a friendly distance. You didn’t notice it but the other three losers perch up in their seat and inch closer discreetly yet flagrantly watch the interaction.

You weren’t prepared to be this close to him, you realize. You didn’t know what to expect out of today but you showed up anyway. Time does really change your perception of someone, you think to yourself.

It’s weird how you were so used to his presence before, to be able to know who was behind you if your eyes were closed, and to be able to recognize the air that they brought with them. Deep down, something in you feels tight when the realization comes that your body is no longer familiar with him. You feel it in your posture, the stiffness of your spine and muscles. 

You’re now gawking at him, and time feels slower than usual. You excuse yourself in your mind for being so shameless, but he looks healthier now. His hair’s still the same, his skin looks a little tanner with a soft tinge of red from the alcohol. His head is craned over at Geto with his side profile facing you, his well trained neck muscles flexing underneath his black henley top. Man, this shit was so unfair. 

He’s looking away from you, but it has a purpose. You swallow the obvious disappointment that shouldn’t be there. He hasn’t talked to you today you note, but you also shouldn’t mind. What’s there left to say?

There was a very brief pause as he stared at the piece of paper, a familiar empty look returned on his face. 

“At least 2 people will be taken by next year, and/or after graduation.”

It was oddly specific. But it was oddly familiar to you too, a vague memory pieces itself in your head of the words being written on paper. You’re suddenly deep in thought, remembering where you were in that time of your life. That unknown tightness makes itself known in your body once more, except this time you know exactly where it’s coming from. 

You remembered the confidence you had back then, the sureness that what you had with him was concrete. The beginning that felt like a slow buildup to a solid relationship. No rush, you agreed and it felt exciting to sneak around at first. You could almost hear the thought said in his voice. 

That night, you had a petty fight. He didn’t hold your hand when you tried to and you were drunk so you vented it out on paper, not caring about how stupid it would be to read sober. Or in a few years. The tightness rushed from your stomach and wrapped around your throat.

He looks up, again his eyes find yours immediately. Again, no words were shared. It was all but two seconds, but it was long enough for the last two years of your private relationship to cross the bridge between both your minds. 

You note how he doesn’t make a move to take the shot. 

Prick.

It was you first who looked away, but you gathered yourself like you always did. Your eyes found Geto’s behind him, ignoring the nosy audience behind you. “That was targeted.” You  forced a chuckle out of yourself, the sound came up like a shield, like if you mocked it too it would mean you’re in on the joke. 

Your eyes flit over to Sukuna, but whatever vulnerability you let peek through was gone, replaced by a passive, sober guard. You smile at him, an attempt to look friendly but it falls as just that, looks. A look you were able to master in the years of keeping your relationship under wraps. You wonder briefly if he ever realized that. When you face away from him, you don’t get to take in the way his jaw clenched.

The diversion seemed to work when the tension in the air dropped, your friends went back to talking with a distant ‘told you so’ muttered by Gojo before the game picked up again. As a response, you tune your surroundings out — a reward for carrying yourself through this internal humiliation ritual. You don’t spare him another glance though.

It ends with Hiromi and Sukuna as the last ones standing because you decided to sit the second to last round out; a dishonest victory for him, you think bitterly. But stopping in the game doesn’t mean you will stop drinking. You came here to have fun with your actual friends and were sick of letting this guy affect you. 

It’s been almost a year already, that should be enough to move on. But it’s the same thought every once in a while.  The same mantra you repeat to yourself when you down the last of the leftover appletini shots with Shoko, Utahime, and Gojo. 

“Oh you should’ve seen the look on her face, Hime. She just smirked and was all like,” She copies how your head turned, “It was cold as fuck.” Shoko slurred, putting an arm around your shoulders. You roll your eyes with a lazy smile. “Whatever bro.”

“No! Seriously, we thought it was really bad back then but-.” She looks over at you to gauge if you’ll react violently in private but you don’t. Your eyes are hazy and calm, effectively numbed by the alcohol enough for it to be sincere. 

Gojo, impatient, completed the sentence. “—Just that we thought you guys were going out forreal.” You hate how that easily sobers you up, again. Even if it's only for a split second, you wanted to stop flinching at even the thought of how embarrassing that experience was. How crazy you had felt back then. 

You don’t say anything, you just let out an awkward chuckle. It’s missed by them though, the sound overlaps with your friends talking over it as they’re adding to the  joke. 

Shortly after, Shoko and Utahime retire upstairs to the room they’ll be crashing at Geto’s house. Its a big enough place with 2 other guest rooms but you really weren’t planning on staying the night despite your lack of ability to walk in a straight line. 

Even Gojo settled on the couch back inside while Higuruma was sober enough to drive Nanami off as well. You said your goodbyes to each other despite only talking briefly, then turned to try and help clean up, but a rough hand stops you before you stuff another pizza box into the garbage bag you found.

“I can’t let a guest do the cleaning, go to your room.”Geto smiled, he was evidently more sober than you.

You shake your head, slower than you could earlier. “Nope, gotta compensate ‘cause I won’t be able to hang tomorrow.” He takes the garbage bag still, looking down at you with a jutted lip. Before he asks why, you interrupt. “Have t’a finish some work — Going home.” You smile, nodding your head. He squints at you, not quite understanding. You straighten yourself up and pull out your phone, the loading screen in your app already looking for a driver.

“I’m uh, Uber.”You try reassuring him with another unconvincing smile while tucking the device in your back pocket.

“I don’t know how I feel about you going home at two a.m., alone.” He raised his brows as he emphasized the last word, “It’s definitely not safe and you’re drunk.” It was a short back and forth, you slowly losing interest in explaining and wanting to get into the car of —you open up your phone— Jose who’s 8 minutes away.

When he continues on his rant on safety and not trusting you to call him when you get home, you make a face at him, unable to control yourself. You push again, trying to clarify, “I do this all the time after my office parties-“

“-That’s dumb.” 

Your shoulders slump, running out of options to convince him. Before you could help it, “What are you gonna do, drive me?” Suguru scoffed at your words, it was obvious what his answer would be already as he was also struggling to stand upright fully.

A beat passes, his eyes scanning the backyard when he zeroes on a rosette head of hair, bidding his goodbyes by the sliding door to a knocked out Gojo, keys in hand.

***

You were gonna kill Suguru.

Your head scrambled to explain how you allowed yourself to get to this position, but he’s already circling the front to reach the driver’s side. You feel his gaze past the windshield, blatant, intruding. 

If worse comes to worst, you’ll throw yourself out of the moving car and roll out of the door if it means saving yourself from real danger.

The thrum of Sukuna’s black Hellcat was unpleasantly familiar. The red interior still looked new, but the passenger seat molded well to your body like a pair of old jeans. But the smell is different now, he used to have this cheap citrusy scented air freshener that hung from the mirror (courtesy of the former owner), obstructing his view. It's now replaced by a light charcoal freshener clipped on a vent.

“You should really get rid of that thing, it’s dangerous y’know?” Of course the first thing you say about his car isn’t a compliment. He rolls his eyes at how typical it was of you.

“Why?” He slides in and shuts the door gently, like second nature, he doesn’t bother with a seatbelt. “Worried I’ll get into an accident?” He asks, left hand finding the wheel. 

“Sure, but it’s similarly distracting for the air to smell like 20 fluorescent orange peels.” He laughs lightly followed by a nod, agreeing. He’s generous enough to roll the windows down halfway. 

A beat passes, “And yes, you should also be more careful now that you’re driving me home.” 

The door shuts, snapping you out of your lingering thoughts, the ticking from the hazard lights cease as he rolls out of the driveway. You’re quick to pull out your phone, head down. At least now you know it's going to be a mix of dry and windy tomorrow.

You know there’s no right way to act and dread is now backing you into a two seater sports car until you confront it. It catches up to you, in the form of the unwavering presence of his body right next to you.

There isn’t possibly enough space in this car for both you and your thoughts. You turn your phone off, internally scoffing at yourself for trying to play non-chalant, opting to just look out the window but it’s hard to see it through your bleary eyes since it’s tinted. 

You close them instead, thinking of a place outside of your own consciousness, outside of here. For a moment,  you’re able to achieve peace when you’re actively pushing down thoughts of him, nothing but the muted sounds of cars passing by and the faint breeze gently caressing your cheeks. You open your eyes and realize the window has been rolled down for you. 

Slowly, your head turns without thinking, he’s still set on the road with both hands tightly on the wheel, you note. 

On the highway when you feel the car speed up, your body slightly surges forward when you’re nearing a slower area, your hand instinctively reaching for the glove compartment to brace. He cleared his throat beside you, and you loosen your grip. You look down, realizing you’re holding onto his forearm while his hand is on the gear shift. Stupid manual car.

You’re quick to pull off him and awkwardly put your hands on your lap. “Sorry.” You mutter, your face warm.

He replies, similarly strained, “ ‘s okay.” It’s strange hearing his voice like that. Maybe it’s strange to hear overall since it’s been forever since it’s been directed at you. He had always been the picture of confidence to you, a natural cadence for smooth talking and sureness. You don’t know what to feel. No, scratch that, you know what you’re feeling. 

It’s getting harder to swallow your pride when memories and these feelings that you never had the chance to confront felt like bile rising from your throat. 

“You really won’t talk to me?” 

And there it is, that confidence finding its footing. It makes you sick how it’s so easy for him to take your silence as reluctance, though it actually is. You hate how he doesn’t spare a second to think before acting on his impulse to speak to you when you spend plenty.

A beat, and nothing from you. He scoffed, you can feel him adjust his seating in a more relaxed manner. He’s about to add when, “You cheater.”

You hear the scrunch of his pants on the leather interior pause, “What the fuck?” He muttered, low, offended at your words.

You turn to him, arms crossed over, on guard. “In the game, dumbass.” You deadpanned, matching his vulgarity. His eyes flick to you and then on the road, now one handed as he scratches his jaw, a light stubble growing underneath.

“A year later and that’s all you have to say?” he grunts, thick brows scrunched, his piercing tugged by the movement.  

“Yes.” You voice out sternly, a newfound stubbornness arises from your half drunk mind. 

“You were always a brat.” 

“At least I don’t care what others think of me.” You mumble like a petulant child. He makes a face, gaze flicking on the rear view mirror. 

He scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh Ryo I think out of everyone,” He meets your eyes at the nickname, “You would know what I’m talking about.”

Something stirs in him, the way his name sounded coming from you wasn’t new,  but it’s now stripped from any warmth that used to always come with it. “You know I had to.”

It’s your turn to scoff, “Yeah even after everything, it just has to go your way.”  There’s a shift in the air, the car picks up its speed, accelerating but you don’t flinch. 

“You’re not making sense to me right now.” He’s quick when moving the shift to 4th gear. Your eyes flit over to the dashboard 65,66…,70 kilometers per hour, “Sukuna-“

He slows down, moving back to 3rd gear when you’re approaching  a new set of traffic, then he breaks early.  You jolted forward, his arm coming up to block you by your stomach. Your eyes are wide and piercing at the windshield, “What is wrong with you?!”

He shook his head, unphased by the forces that just came onto your bodies. “You broke up with me,” he emphasized on ‘you’. Like saying that meant it justified how he made you feel after, your face twists in distaste. 

 “Oh so now we’re talking about it.” You’re looking down at his arm, he’s big, like bigger than it was when you were both in college. It’s a drunk thought you wanna ignore but it’s imposing. You don’t think of it because you’re dissecting how attractive he looks but it’s despite how he could overpower you, how typically you shouldn’t feel safe around a big man with anger issues and a fast car, you aren’t scared. Your safety is regretfully the farthest thing from the thoughts running through your brain right now.

When you pick up your head he’s already looking at you, the red light casts on his face, you can see everything now. The bump of his nose, the fleck of red on his irises, the way his monolids looked slightly hooded.

How can someone draw you in and simultaneously make you want to run far away? He doesn't make a move to detach himself from you. You try to shove him away, looking back at the still red light, then back at him. You push, he doesn’t budge. “Hey-“

“You ran from me, not the other way around.” Your lips part, you think you’re about to say something or scoff, but you can’t bring yourself to utter a sound.

“You don’t get to hold a grudge and make it sound like I was the one that left when you said you didn’t picture us like that.” A chill runs itself on your spine as he repeats verbatim what you said, a cold look on his expression. “Whatever that fucking meant,” He mumbled, arranging himself back on the drivers side, rolling the windows back up.

This was unfair, this was singling you out. But technically, he was right. You broke up with him and you never reached out after. But it wasn’t all your fault, that’s what you wanted to say. Despite everything you agreed to, it was out of how deeply you had felt for him.

 You trusted him that he wanted you just as much, but in time, you wanted more. But were you so wrong to want more than to be someone he came home to — without bothering to even so much as say hi to you around others? Were you wrong to not want to look like he just kept you around long enough ‘cause you’re a decent fuck? You swallow the words you couldn’t say, tongue thick in your mouth. 

It feels like you could breathe again when he pulled himself off you, but comfort doesn’t return immediately. The car moves forward and you’re back to sinking in your own pool of thoughts, completely disassociating. 

Sukuna looks back at you, noting how you’ve completely sunk back to your seat. You, who he remembered as someone so fired up and just earlier was laughing loudly, your presence now damp and the look in your eyes empty with all but 20 minutes alone with him. But he says nothing, his eyes on the road knowing he can never get it quite right when it comes to telling you how he felt. 

The road starts to make familiar turns, until the drive ultimately comes to a stop, slowing down in front of your apartment complex. You move around, making sure you have your bag and keys with you. When you held them in your hands, it still felt like you were leaving something behind. 

Your fingers ghost over the door lock, knowing if you flicked it open it would mean being obnoxiously loud in the silence. You don’t know how long you sat there, and he doesn’t unlock the door for you either. The thought that he’s letting you decide what comes next puts more pressure on you than you’d like to admit is actually there. 

“Were you—” It comes out hoarse with your voice high, your throat feels dry too. “I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t see you in my future.” He shifts, but you don’t even think of moving, tightly clutching your bag on your lap. “I didn’t think you did.” 

He’s quiet, allowing you to continue until you choose to let it settle. “I’m not sure I follow.” 

Your shoulders sag. This is unbelievable. You unbuckle your seatbelt and gather everything you own. Your throat constricts, “I don’t even know why I’m-“ When your hand finds the lock, it shuts back on its own. “What the fuck?” You turn immediately, hair whipping on your face. “Open it,” You’re tired, it seems to be more obvious to you when you’re pulling on the door the wrong way. “Open it!” 

He reaches for your bicep, you’re gonna break the handle. “Hey- Stop it.”

“Let. Me. out!” You smack on the window, you pound heavier with each word, it hurts the side of your fist. “You’re crazy!”  

“Oh I’m fucking crazy?!” He pulls you closer, away from doing anything even more damaging to yourself. “Whatever you have to let out, do it to me. Not the fucking car ‘cause it’s fucking pointless.” He spat, you don’t see the concern laced in his pointed eyes because his proximity is torture alone, eyes averted. 

Your nostrils flare as you breathe out a long sigh. “You were embarrassed of me.” It doesn’t come out as stern as you’d like it to be, the claim comes out as half a whisper. 

His hand loosens on you, but he doesn’t let go. You continue, “It made sense- it was the only reason that made sense when you couldn’t even look at me around our friends.” He finally lets go, hand resting on the back of your headrest.

“You said it was okay-“

Your voice can't help but raise in his wake, your heart beating faster than normal. “Of course I would! Would you have been with me if I pushed you to tell everyone? You couldn’t even do it earlier!” 

Sukuna’s hands find themselves planted on the wheel. He’s not even driving, but he feels like it’s the only thing grounding him at this moment. 

“You agreed to it! You didn’t say I should change anything, and we just kept going like before anyways—”

“—They knew we were sleeping with each other, I would’ve taken that!” Your voices overlap each other, both your defenses coming up to protect yourselves suddenly. “I would’ve taken being known as part of your body count. At least then I wouldn’t look so desperate. It was humiliating!” You unlock the door, thinking that you were gonna leave it at that. He locks it back, you throw glare at him.

“You don’t think it was embarrassing when you left ‘cause you told me there wasn’t a future for us? How fucking dumb I felt when you never showed up to gatherings and everyone looked at me?” You could’ve sworn a vein was appearing on his forehead, and judging from how he was putting his swear words to a minimum of two, he was definitely holding back.

“Don’t you dare twist this on me,”

“I was never fucking embarrassed of you!”

“You never fought me on it!” 

The yell leaves an imprint on the silence that follows. 

“I thought if I gave you an ultimatum, you’d back away. So I told you something I wasn’t sure was true myself, until you didn’t fight it. So maybe you were thinking the same and I just stuck with it.” Your words spilled, finally coming out of the confines you’ve kept it all these months. 

“I was lying to my friends,” You continued, the words unable to hold in your conscience. “I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. But I also couldn’t talk to you-“ Your voice cracked, “I was alone.” You couldn’t even look at him. You didn’t wanna be faced with any more disappointment. 

You wanted him to be distraught, to care that he hurt you, dragged your self worth without knowing, and you fed what was left of it back to yourself. But you weren’t sure if he did care, so you sat stiffly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” He asks, hesitant. 

You reply without the ability to filter yourself, “ ‘Didn’t wanna look insecure.”

“But you were.” He answers, and it still stings. Of course I was. 

“Could you blame me?” You shift in your seat, putting your phone inside your bag, you fish out for your keys you threw back inside during your earlier fit. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit. You find it again but you stay there. Waiting. 

You don’t know why you stay longer than you should, no, you do. You steal a glance at him, and his body is still, contemplative. You unlock the car door, and it doesn’t click back to lock. A part of you that you refused to acknowledge still waits for him, but your heart is already heavy with rejection, with the weight of his silence. 

You say nothing, the words are lodged in your throat. You’re quick to get out of the car, the crisp air bites your arms and you realize you left your jacket halfway to the entrance of your complex but you keep walking.

Your heels click on the pavement, arms crossed over your chest like you’re holding yourself together. You feel a sting in your eyes — this feels too final. Your lip wobbles but you don’t look back, you’re drawing a line in the sand. 

The keys fumble in your hand, your sight gets blurrier and blurrier. 

“You’re a fuckin’ baby, you know that?”  You stop breathing, fingers caught mid-twist on the door knob. You look up in surprise, your eyes wide and glossy. The sight tugs on Sukuna’s chest. 

He raised his hand, your jacket hanging off his fist. “You hate me so much you couldn’t even get back your jacket?”

Your body shivers when a faint gust of wind blows at you, and it feels like that might be enough to take you down like a pile of sticks. “F-fuck you.” Your teeth chatter, and you go back to trying to open your door. 

There’s two steps that shuffle behind you, a warmth on your back makes itself known. The keys cease its movement. Your head comes down on the door in a thud, still you don’t look back. “Can you please…” You start, but you aren’t sure what comes after. 

Sukuna’s hand wraps around yours on the door knob, he gently pries it off and takes the keys himself. You let him do so, fingers pliant. The touch is warm, intimate — it doesn’t help the twist in your gut.

“I didn’t know how to want you, but I knew how I felt.” He starts, the words coming out hesitant but like release at the same time. 

“It felt kinda like nothing would go wrong if I kept it between us. And it didn’t matter to me ‘cause you were,” He hesitated, fiddling with the keys himself till he found the right one. He twists it, the lock clicking. “You’re all I needed.” His breath is on your hair, arms caging you by the doorway.

“I thought if I gave you enough attention, it would be enough to keep you satisfied. And I know now it wasn’t enough. But I didn’t want to lose you then but I’m—yeah, I still did.” He takes a step back, his warmth leaving with him. The door swing opens with a light push of his fingers. 

He finds himself in the same position as you, breath stuck, body rigid. You turn around, he looks like he’s holding himself back on something with his fists closed tightly, your keys still between. 

“I wasn’t sure what I should’ve done. I never wanted you to be alone.”

The silence that passes is louder than any yell you threw at each other. You both stood there, a step away from each other. The door was now open, but it's for you to go in, not him. 

“Is that an apology?” You whisper, he looks down from the ceiling and locks in on you.

“I’m sorry.” He grunts, a foreign word paired with his voice. But it isn’t forced, it’s laid out for you to take if you wanted it. Your heart pounds in your chest, you don’t take your eyes off him. He takes a deep breath and for the first time he looks as uncertain as he actually feels. The words force itself out of him once more, “I’m-“

He blinks and your lips find his. It’s half a second that he doesn't kiss back until he finds your waist and melts into you, eyes shutting. You’re rough, hands coming up his hair and tugging him deeper onto you.  Strangely he’s soft, allowing you to pull him in. His hands however are holding onto you like a lifeline. Feeling your body, from your face to your hips, like you’re anchoring him to the ground. 

His hand is on the back of your thigh and squeezing, it’s when you gasp as he lifts you when his tongue finds itself in your mouth. Your arms are around his neck when you part from each other. 

Sukuna's eyes are half lidded, gazing up at you. Your thumb grazes his cheek, tracing the ink on his face before coming back down to kiss him, you want him closer.

This kiss is different, slow like you’re tasting him. He walks into your apartment while you’re still on his lips. You don’t see the door shut but you hear it. He blindly navigates his way into your apartment like the back of his hand, the only light coming from the dim moonlight cast behind the thin curtains. 

 He’s on the edge of your bed when you open your eyes, your breaths mingle against each other. You tug at the bottom of his black shirt, palming the expanse of his hard abdomen underneath. You pull off his lips with a whine, “What is it, baby?” 

He holds your face, cheeks warm at the nickname. He takes you in when you inch closer, trying to close the distance, your lips puffy and bitten to a flushed red. 

Both your brains struggled to connect your thoughts and feelings at this moment. Every graze of his fingers, and squeeze is out of disbelief, making sure that the other is truly there. 

You peel your own shirt off, leaving you in nothing but your bra and pants. His throat bobs and  you feel him harden underneath your thighs. 

You haven’t said anything since you entered your home. Sukuna is searching your face, a little too close to scrutiny. Your brows pinch together, but still you reach for the back of your bra. 

Before you let it fall, his hand finds yours that’s keeping your strap from unclasping. He’s waiting for you to say something, trying to get a read on you. You’re doing the same when he pulls you closer, his lips landing on your cheek, your neck, and to the skin above your chest. He picks his head back up, his eyes hazy and dilated. 

The hand on your back tightens atop yours, silently urging you to make your discomforts known, if it’s there. He’s patient now but his restraint is hanging by a thread and you, the blade that cuts it clean. 

You let go, bringing his hand down from your back to let the piece of garment fall. The weight of his stare is heavy on you, looking down at your soft breasts, nipples stiff and pointed up from the cold. Sukuna stops a groan from escaping his throat.

His head dips, mouth finding your collar bone while his teeth grazes them before biting down. Your hands come up to hold his head, whining as he sucks and licks the spot to soothe. But still, he isn’t dipping down to pay attention to your breasts nor is he squeezing you on the spots you want. Its easy to tell when he’s holding back.

He lets go, a bruise forming above the wet spot of your chest. You’re biting your lip, hands planted on his thighs and you’re leaning forward to balance yourself. It’s getting harder to keep this shit gentle when you’re pressing your tits together for him.  

“I don’t,” He swallows hard, “I don’t wanna fuck you.” He says, the words are bitter in his mouth. Liar.

A smirk finds itself on your lips, nodding. You don’t push him. Sukuna watches as you lift yourself off his lap, now standing between his legs. His hands work on their own as they find a place on your bare waist, but he stops the urge to plant your ass back on him. 

A gentle thud signals your pants are now at your feet. He scans your body from down up, you feel his eyes on your calves to your thighs. “You don’t wanna touch me?” You poke, stepping out of the pool of fabric. 

A hiss comes out of him when squeezed his cock, straining underneath the uncomfortable denim of his jeans. You know he won’t beg you, or plead, but you made a compelling argument. 

“Well, I want you.” You continued, looking down when you’re suddenly aware of how you were in nothing but your thin pink underwear. Your hand finds the hem of  his shirt, tugging up like you did earlier. “Do you still want me?” The words are half part of the tease, what it could possibly mean lingers in the air. 

The way he peers at you isn’t primal, it’s many things you know he won’t be able to tell you. But the answer lands when he takes your hand, guiding you to lay on the bed gently. You land on the pillows, sprawled out while he finally sheds his shirt and jeans off. It’s your turn to gawk, the familiar sight of the thick black bands decorating his skin, still there. It’s still him.

It’s not long until his lips land on yours, hungry and exploring. He kisses down to the skin above your stomach, his tongue sticking out to lick up to your breasts. Your shudder, eyes fluttering shut when his lips latch onto your left nipple and sucking. He’s taking his time before finding the neglected one on the right. Heat builds in your stomach, the fabric of your panties clinging to your folds. 

His lips pop off your chest, nose dragging down to your navel, then landing on your underwear. You bite your lip while you’re looking down at him. He steals a glance at you, winking. “You’re an idiot,” The laugh that bubbles dies down into embarrassment when you hear him inhale sharply, taking in your sweet scent. 

The deep groan from his chest has your stomach doing flips. Almost immediately, the flimsy fabric of your panties are gone.

The first taste of your pussy has him feeling like he found water after days in the desert. Eyes rolling back underneath his lids, then he sucks on your clit — harsh like he’s trying to get something out of it. 

You yelp, your thighs attempt to close around his head but his grip is unyielding as the way he laps at your core hungrily.

It’s taking more effort to stop making so much noise, your own palms coming up to muffle your mewls. Sukuna notices almost immediately, but he doesn’t stop you, instead he takes it as a sign to press his face harder, head moving side to side. 

His eyes are wide, a crazed look in them, lips impossibly secured on your cunt. There’s a rough squeeze on your ass, tilting your hips upward to meet his need to go deeper, like devouring you whole isn’t enough. 

Sukuna leaves open mouthed kisses on your quivering nub, pulling off it before spitting square on the sensitive flesh. “Y’ gonna keep quiet all night?” 

He spreads the fluid on your cunt like butter on his meal, middle finger sinking in while his other hand rubs on your poor clit.  Your mouth parts, a shock makes its way through your body, feet twitching. “Ry-ryo, I’m-“

His eyes are glued to how your hole grips around his finger. “No one been fucking this pretty pussy in a while, huh?”

You shake your head, your stomach tightening with each speeding thrust of his thick finger. Your insecurities now forgotten, hands falling to tug on his pink locks. To pull him closer or farther from you, you aren’t sure.

More whimpers spill out of your throat when he adds another digit, fast and unwavering. “I-I can’t—“

He watched you with unbridled attention, mouth parting as you groped your own tits and rode his fingers. “You wanna cum?” He asks, breathless. 

The voice you let out is now high and whiney, “Yes, yes, yes—” on the verge of a sob.

The plea runs down like oil on his back, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers, soiled with pre. He goes back to licking up your little clit, lost in the sounds he could emit from you or your body. It’s when he curves his finger upwards, enough to brush the spongey part inside of you, hitting it over and over again, that your legs start to shake. Your hips grow erratic, whimpers spill from you like a damn bursting open. He lets you ride it out, brushing your hair and sweat out of your face as he slows his fingers, your warm body quivering underneath him.

He sits back, watching you heave, legs spread open. You hum, legs shutting before falling to one side, your gaping cunt clenching at nothing, presenting itself to him. A sigh leaves you, “Thanks,” It makes him chuckle, followed by your own. The atmosphere is light for a moment, both of you catching your breaths when you hear clicking at the edge of the bed.

Sukuna’s sitting up on his knees, his presence abundant and just big, you think to yourself when you fix your sights on his cock. Finally free from the confines of his gray boxer shorts, an angry red tip leaking as he jerks his shaft. You realize you’re gawking and your gaze lifts to his.

“Polite as always.” He replied as if he wasn’t jerking his cock in front of you, to you. He’s using the hand he used to play with you earlier, your juices spread on his cock like a personal lubricant.  

There’s a tug on your ankle, you’re pulled away from the comfort of your pillows and now close enough that the smooth skin of your ass brushes against his balls. The same hand leads your legs to fold sideways. He hovers above you like a weighted blanket, his lips finding your jaw, then your lips.

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled against you, tip already lining up at the entrance of your drooling pussy. “I’m not as nice.” 

You both gasp in each other’s open mouths when he finally sinks in, slowly pushing, inch by inch. His head falls against yours as he holds himself back from bottoming out too fast.  

“Oh fuck”  

One of you cursed, but you weren’t sure who it came out of. The contents of your head now reduced to something lesser than mush. Unable to comprehend anything beyond sensations. Finally, he bottoms out fully, frothy ring of white developing at the base of his cock with each shallow thrust. 

Then he pulls out halfway, before pushing back in all the way. Your breath is caught in your throat, nails digging into his forearms holding your thighs. Slow and deep. Pulling back before plunging himself back to your aching heat. 

Again and again.

The pounding resounds in the walls of your apartment, heavy and accompanied by his throaty grunts and your uncontrolled whimpers. He kisses you, tender. A stark difference to the obscene arrangement he’s fucking you in. His balls are hitting your thighs repeatedly, forearm supporting under them and keeping you folded sideways. Every breath that leaves him grazes your skin, directly groaning into your ear.

The room disappears in and out from your vision with each roll of your eyes, each thrust compressing you closer between the sheets and his chest. Each push feels like he’s driving you to the edge, no, insanity. 

Because that’s exactly what this is. Seeing your ex on a whim, confronting him drunk, making him plead for forgiveness. 

Now he’s flipping you on your back, asking if he could show you how he could fuck inside deeper, and you’re digging your nails into his arms when your knees touch your shoulders.

Yeah, insanity.

A sob eagerly pushes its way out of your throat when he bottoms out in the new angle, the headboard bumping against the wall with the force of his hips. He’s on his knees, thrusting into you with his arms hooked under your legs, palms on the meat of your ass to bring your hips in to fuck on his cock.

Each loud cry prompts him to go even faster, testing how much more you could take, how much more noise he could get out of you.

Noises jolt out of you with each time the blunt head of his cock drives deeper, “H-harder.” 

His heart is pounding twice a second but he doesn’t falter, picking up his pace when he feels you clench around him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking gone.”

“I want more, Ryo—” 

“don’t-This is more.” Sukuna’s hips stutter, iron grip squeezing your flesh at the request. His tone is concerned, yet strained. Holding back on something you both want. He thumbs your clit, eliciting a cry out of you. But it’s not enough, it doesn’t feel enough. You need to be impossibly closer.

You’re shaking your head, stomach clenched as the heat builds up inside of you, but you don’t want it like this — Sukuna’s thumb rubbing hastily on your sensitive nub. Your desperation grows palpable, hips meeting his after each thrust, thirst still unquenched. 

He lets out a frustrated groan that you can only describe as guttural, resolve unravelling as he watches your tits bounce as you eagerly try and take more in. “I’m gonna- I don’t wanna hurt you.” He pants, leaning forward, your legs bending a little more towards you.

“No.” You choke out, “Don’t hold back-” There’s now a hold under your thighs, keeping you from moving out of your position. Your hands are clutching his thick biceps fervently, pulling him down to put his weight on you. Folding yourself in half for him, his hips slowing, thrusts turning deep and languid. “Don’t hold back on me, please.” You gasp out, an earnest request, voice teetering off aroused and closer to pleading.  

The air shifts and it’s easy to point when the rest of his resolve releases from the tension in his body.

“Okay, okay baby. Shit.” Throat bobbing before reaching out for you, “C’mere,“ He brings your face to him by the back of your head, lips sloppily meeting each other, tongue prodding past your warm, parted mouth. You’re barely able to kiss back, mewling against him when he pulls back slowly, before bottoming out all the way to your stomach. 

It’s not long until he’s picking up the pace, repeating the motion in a fast, unwavering tempo. He’s growing more vocal by the second, and you’re deduced to nothing but a mushy, crying, wet mess underneath him. 

“I thought you wanted more?” You don’t—can’t reply, something between whimpers and wet chokes only leave your parted mouth. “I gave you more, now you can’t even thank me?” The sound of his deep chuckle that follows after, reaches all the way to your pussy, getting wetter and wetter around him with each mean tease he sends your way.

Your legs are numb now, the only sensation left is the one building up in your core. The pads of his thumb brush away the stray tears running down the side, you’re biting your lip and pulling him in closer by the arms slung around his neck. “Th-thank you, Ryo.” It comes out as half gasp and a mewl, your breathing uneven and failing to regulate yourself at the stimulation from within. “So good, ’s really—more”

There’s nothing but a deep, guttural noise that returns to you. He feels your thighs struggle to hold yourself with his weight on you, holding himself above you, carrying your hips and letting your legs slacken against your side.

“You’re shaking so much.” Your muscles lessen in tension, heart tugging at the consideration.

 But you tuck that nervous, unstable part of you away, not ready to confront these feelings fully. You’re unable to look at him, head falling at the side. His lips fall on your cheek, wetly dragging them across till they’re hovering over your ear,

“Keep acting this nice I might do anything you want me to.” 

“Sh-shut up,” You mouth off, tightly shutting your eyes so as to not meet his taunting crimson ones. He can’t help the grin that tugs on his face, watching you get bashful over him mocking you. He remembers how easy it is to get to you, a trait typically bothersome for others, on you it’s wholly endearing. Despite your words though, you’re clenching around him, pulsing, wetter, and wetter still. 

He continues to press on, hips slowing down to start driving into you deeper, a dull ache hitting your cervix. “You missed this,” He bends down, closer against your face, smushing you who’s still turned away, pressing against the mattress.  Like he’s trying to merge your bodies together. “Admit it, you fucking missed this.” Continuing on his pace, grunting when you clamp down on him, “I can fucking feel you— Say you missed me, c’mon.” 

“I-I’m, Oh my,” The words float around your head, unable to connect as a full sentence when he speeds up.  You struggle, trying to keep up with both chasing your orgasm and his foolish requests. “Imissedyou, oh shit, I’m so close.“ You’re reaching down with your fingers, aiming for your swollen clit when a much larger, iron clad grip, sticks your hand to the bed. You feel like crying.

“What d’you say? A little clearer for me.” He pushes, unsatisfied with your answer. 

“Fuck you!” Your free arm lands on his leg, quads flexing as they’re put to work. Your nails claw into them, the flesh of his hard thigh burning with reddened marks. 

Still, he doesn’t let up, “I don’t think you want me to.”  He takes carrying your weight for his own advantage, dragging you body down on his shaft, up and down like he’s using you to jerk himself off.   

Amidst hot, bursting sensations within, the constant hesitation you seem to bring into everything peeks through. 

The words play in your head, and you waver. Your guard coming up, “I-I miss your cock then—fuck!” The curse spills out after a hand comes down on your puffy cunt, your nerves triggering small shocks all the way to your toes.  He’s really  pushing it out of you. A notch grows between his brows.

You feel so much all at once. Your physical feelings and emotional sentiments  clash with one another, making you unable to decipher what you want quickly — your emotions are unpacking at the most inconvenient of times. 

A taunt now left  feeling a lot more like a weighted decision. 

You look for an answer in his stare, he’s already focused on you and maybe equally nervous, reaching to see if you’ll meet him halfway.

Tears prick your eyes at the intensity of it all.

You reach for his face, and it feels like coming back to earth. “I miss you—I-I missed you.”  And he’s toppling over, your gravity pulling him in.

He lets out a breath, “F-fuck, I know,” It comes out closer to a snivel than a whisper, tucking himself in your neck and breathing in you scent. It’s grounding enough that he lets out a groan. “I missed you too.” 

His hips grow erratic, member throbbing in your walls, pre-cum mixing with the mess of your sopping cunt. He can’t last. The shame that comes with the fact doesn’t reach him though as he’s lost in the persistence of feeling you cum around his cock, rolling his hips, pink tufts on his pelvis rubbing against your mound. 

The knot in your core tightens even more, back arching off your bedsheets as his engorged tip rams upwards, grazing your cervix repeatedly. Your orgasm crests over like a thousand shocks, toes curling and twitching as you ride it out. He’s pulling out after, leaving your hole gaping, and hastily pumping up and down on his cock, drenched in your fluids. 

Curses spill out of him, watching your chest heave in the dim light, never averting his gaze before he shoots white spurts of his cum all over your stomach with a breathy moan.

Your vision comes and goes afterwards, hardly able to keep your eyes open. One moment he’s wiping on you with his soiled shirt, the next he’s pulling your covers over you and placing his arm around your waist.

Before sleep comes over your consciousness, a peck lands on the side of your head, soft and lingering. He mumbles something to you, you don’t catch it. The world around you already turning black, head quiet.

***

The sun peaks through the blinds, a warm glow casts on your naked back. Sukuna observes, fingers brushing against the yellow and purple blooming on the skin of your waist. There’s a faint buzzing that interrupts his quiet morning, continuous and irritating. He reaches over to your bedside table, careful to not dip your side of the bed too much.

“I knew you weren’t gonna call me last night! I was getting worried he’d drive you off the highway or something.” Before the voice could continue, there’s already another distant, feminine one, muffled and saying something along the lines of ‘Is that her’ or ‘Did you tell her?’

“Yeah! ‘m about to ask!” Sukuna’s face pinched at the clear yell, pulling the phone away from his ear.

 It’s early as fuck. 

There's a noise on his end, dishes clanking and clothes shuffling. “Since you're done ghosting us, I wanted to check if you were free next week? I promise, I won’t force you in a car with Sukuna’s grump ass agai—“

“Yeah, we’ll see if we can go.” Before Suguru could say anything, the grump hangs up with a furrowed brow, sliding your phone back on top of your drawers. 

He sat back on your headboard, contemplating the unfamiliar, light feeling fluctuating in his chest. He finds the culprit, stirring in her sleep, arm reaching out slowly for the warmth that left behind her. 

You peel your eyes open. taking in the morning light, blinking. Your hair falls down to your side when you turn, shamelessly gawking when you first take in his bare chest and only then do you peer back at his focused stare.

You tuck a hand underneath your head, challenging his focus.“What?” your voice comes out laced with traces of sleep.

“Geto’s asking if we’re free next week.” There’s a comfortable silence between you two, one that soothes over the warmth in the air. You’re first to blink, a smirk pulls on your lips at the sight of a grin on his.

“Only if you take me there.”