Thankfully your crew was taking it easy today because you were up until late into the night thinking about everything that had happened yesterday. It was impossible to get your heartbeat under control as you replayed that kiss over and over, letting your mind wander to what could have happened afterwards.

He’d wanted you to spend the night with him. No matter how many times you tried to rationalize him meaning something different, there was never a good enough justification to change your mind. What else could ‘come back to my hotel with me’ possibly mean? Surely he didn’t just intend for you to come back and watch TV.

It was probably just the heat of the moment. Making out and getting handsy can do that to a man and he’s probably looking for someone to warm his bed after a grueling day getting tossed around by large animals.

It wasn’t something you could easily just forget though. The rough skin of his hands still lingered where he held your hand, the heat left behind by his lips on yours persisted long after you hopped off that tailgate, and the way his thigh brushed against your own burdened you with an almost permanent, dull ache in your gut.

That empty feeling seems to have persisted throughout the night and only ramped up even more the following day while you all were grabbing some breakfast at the diner before going over for the rodeo finals. It was the last full day for all of you considering you were planning to hit the road back home tomorrow morning.

Normally you weren’t one for one night stands or getting involved with men you hadn’t known for long. Most of your hookups were guys you’d known for some time through friends, so the thought of doing something with someone famous you’d just happened to meet a few days ago was daunting. He was hot though, so so so hot. There was no denying the physical attraction you felt for him.

Even beyond his looks, he seems like a good guy. A little rough around the edges, but charming in his own way. His flirty insults have grown on you this weekend and you can’t help but fantasize about a life where the rodeo star plays a leading role. Even though things were rocky at first, after hearing what he’s been through, you can’t really blame him for being skeptical of you.

The pang in your chest starts to flare up once again. A nagging feeling that he was going to become a missed connection keeps popping into your mind. For some reason the thought of never seeing or talking to him again fills you with anxiety and a heaviness that you can’t shake off. 

“You okay girlie?” Shoko’s voice jolts you out of your zoned out state. Apparently you’d just been staring at your eggs without actually eating.

“Yeah! I’m good,” you try to give a cheery answer, but she sees right through it.

“It’s him huh?” she says softly.

You gulp hard, reaching to take a long sip of coffee to buy you some time before answering. The shakiness in your voice is just bound to show itself.

“Mhmm. I feel like an idiot, but it makes me sad to never see him again. I feel like I’m fantasizing about something impossible,” you play with your napkin in your lap.

“Like, a relationship? Or…” Shoko trails off. She must have seen how you flinched so she stopped talking. 

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the useless idealization. 

“Yeah. Or at least something more than this.”

It would never work though, who were you kidding. You had a job and life back in the city, a place he had no desire to set down roots. And speaking of roots, there were none to be cultivated when you were on the road nine months out of the year, surrounded by beautiful women throwing themselves at him. 

What would be the point of waiting around for a girl like you.

“I wish I had better advice,” Shoko rests her hand on your arm. “Truthfully though, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know, I feel the same way,” you sigh, glancing away towards the busy diner, eyes stinging as you try to hold back the storm inside of you.

Nothing good could come from this. Even if you were just trying to have a good time, you know inevitably you’d struggle to set aside emotions and feelings for physical gain.

Nothing good could come from this.

Sukuna stares lifelessly at the ceiling of the suite from where he’s collapsed on the couch. White and black specs dot the panels above, reminding him slightly of the speckled bull he was going to have to ride very soon.

He’s ready to go. He has his lucky jeans, just loose enough to move but tight enough to hug his muscular legs and thighs so they wouldn’t catch on anything. He’s won enough championships clad in the light blue denim to at least believe there was something special about them.

The blood red chaps he always wears lay on the back of a chair near the door, usually not putting them on until the last second because that shit was impossible to walk comfortably in. He’s got a matching red collared shirt, unbuttoned so he can still tend to the gash on his side. It hasn’t opened up since yesterday, but his medical staff was still monitoring it until it was time to go out there.

Speaking of going out there, were you somewhere in the stands? He’d asked Gojo earlier if he saw you when he took a walk to watch some of the other events, but he hadn’t looked.

He had fans…so many fans. More than he ever imagined possible when he first started rising in the ranks of pro rodeo. He never expected to one day have a stadium full of people cheering him on at Cheyenne for three days in a row. They were all faceless to him though, just a sea of denim, boots, and hats desperate to watch their favorite rodeo star make it through the hardest eight seconds known to man.

Kids looked up to him. Why? He’d never know. He wasn’t exactly the poster child of good decisions, in fact, he hopes his future son god willing doesn’t end up like him. Succumbing to the vices of fame in such naive fashion is something he cringes about regularly, going so far as to wishing sometimes that he never got into rodeo. He could instead be on the plot of his family’s ranch in the mountains that his dad gave to him, married to a girl from his hometown with a couple of kids. His days could be spent checking on and repairing fences on the property line or chasing down a stray cow that wandered away from the herd.

Preferring to keep a lower profile was so much easier these days. Life was methodical: get money from his sponsorships, do a few commercials and promotional interviews, show up and ride without any of the pageantry that he used to crave, maybe fuck around lowkey with some girl that he’ll never see again, and hopefully win the bag, moving onto the next.

A part of him liked the satisfaction of winning though. Doing something so flawlessly that so many people wished they were even halfway decent at stroked his ego in a way that boring farm life just couldn’t.

“Ryomen, they’re ready for you to come up,” his manager Toji calls from the door, interrupting him from his thoughts.

“Alright,” he grunts, exhaling loudly as he sits up.

Time to get in the zone.

Sukuna buttons up his shirt and situates his cowboy hat so it flattens his pink locks in a flattering way. Shit is just going to fly off anyways, so he doesn’t know why he bothers getting it perfect.

Well, he knows. If you’re out there, he wants to look his best. 

As he pulls his chaps on, he starts to remember last night. It’s been baked into his mind ever since he finally found out what your lips felt like on his. He’d wanted so badly to just lay you down and fuck you in the back of his truck, but he also had no intentions of your first time together being out in the open where someone could have seen you.

And yes, he very much intends for there to be a first time. How? 

He hasn’t figured that out yet.

If it was just some random slut, he couldn’t have cared less if someone saw. But it was you, and you deserved so much better than some stranger hearing your pretty moans and cold metal under your back. Sukuna was the only one who wanted to know what you looked and sounded like when you came. He knew he’d pull one out of you, preferably more, and no other schmuck out there was worthy of getting that experience.

And now his dick was so fucking hard. He ponders whether he should go rub one out quickly? 

Probably.

But there really wasn’t any time for that. He’d just have to win and try to get that blowjob you’d propositioned him last night.

He chuckles as he walks towards the door out to the arena. The thought of what you’d look like with his dick down your throat was more motivation than the million in prize money that was up for grabs.

Sukuna already knows what it’s like to walk away with a million, but he’s dying to know how it feels to have your lips wrapped around his cock. That’s worth more than any monetary sum at this point and he’d probably beat the shit out of anyone who takes that opportunity away from him.

Pushing out the door, the harsh sun from the afternoon is starting to lessen as the early evening settles in. The damn jeans still feel so constricting, but he knows it’ll go away eventually. Sukuna wanders back behind the bucking chutes, obscured from the public eye, but he has a pretty good view of everything. His assigned speckled bull is off to the side, so he walks over to it, intending to do his usual ritual of talking shit to the animal.

“Better fuckin’ take it you piece of shit,” he grumbles at the creature, leaning against the fencing and watching how it’s nostrils flare when it catches sight of his red attire. “My girl is gonna suck me off if I win. If you do something to compromise that, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Traumatize all these women and children with a bloodbath.”

God that sounds unhinged, he smirks to himself. Losing his shit about getting some head like he’s in high school when he could probably have some random girl on her knees in the next five minutes.

But it wouldn’t be you though.

The announcer is calling out the score of another rider. Eighty-eight. Child’s play numbers. Sukuna doesn’t even bother listening half the time, concerning himself with the competition doesn’t do any good. He’ll play his game and do what he does best, regardless of how some other loser performs.

The crowd groans a moment later, likely on account of someone getting pummeled by their bull. Something Sukuna hopes doesn’t repeat itself again today. He’d like to actually be able to drag you off to the after party tonight among other things and not be confined to a hospital bed. 

He meanders back over to the bucking chutes, eyes darting over to the grandstands that are chock full of people. He scans the crowd for some sign of you, but he’s so far away that he can’t really discern any distinguishing features from person to person.

He spits a wad of saliva out onto the dirt, grinding his boot over where it lands. It’s hot as fuck out here, feeling the sweat trickle down his neck and down his back. He’ll be glad to get this over with. 

Toji appears at his side.

“Chute three is gonna be you,” he murmurs, gesturing towards the one at the end.

“Hmph, had that one when I won a few years back. Maybe it’ll be good luck,” he grunts, striding over to the fencing. He climbs up onto the top of the chute, getting out of the way as the other staff start herding his bull into the enclosure. The beast is thrashing around already, giving the men hell trying to get him where they need him to go.

Sukuna feels his blood heat up. He loves a challenge, never content to have a good ride on an easy bull. Seeing this one being rowdy already is exciting, eager to beat the creature at its own game. 

“Feisty already huh?” his manager grins.

“Fuckin’ love it,” Sukuna feels the adrenaline pumping through his blood, cracking his neck in anticipation. The enclosure door slams shut, trapping the bull inside much to its chagrin. The animal throws its weight against the side wall where Sukuna is sitting, causing him to leap away at the last second.

“Tch, you’re gonna make me work for this huh,” he sneers down at the bull, challenging its gaze. Usually if you intimidate them enough, they’ll look away.

Sukuna scans the crowd one more time in hopes of catching some glimpse of you, but the results are fruitless. A nagging image claws into his mind of having you back here with him in the future, giving him a deep kiss and wishing him good luck, never having to look for you again.

Maybe someday. For now he needs to focus on winning this ride before turning his attention to winning you.

You watch as Sukuna leaps off the side of the enclosure for some reason, more agile than you were expecting. From where you sit, you don’t have a great view of inside the chutes, so you aren’t sure exactly what caused that to happen.

This was the last round of bull riders for the championship, so you’d know very soon whether Sukuna was going to be winning it all. You can’t take your eyes off of him as he looks out into the crowd. A stupid part of you wants to wave, but there’s no way he would see you.

One by one, each chute opens up to a rider hoping to change his life by winning one of the most well known rodeos in the country. Some fail to last the whole time, others do succeed but don’t crack the top three. The current top score is a 92 which was made by a cowboy from the first heat of riders. 

Finally it’s Sukuna’s turn.

“ANNNND finally, we have world champion rider Ryomen Sukuna in chute number three. As you all know, he won at Cheyanne two years ago and placed third last year. He’s ready to take back the title for another year!” the announcer yells, earning a roar from the crowd.

Your heart thumps wildly, suddenly nervous for him. You of course want him to win, but you also know how dangerous this sport is after seeing multiple men, including Sukuna, sustain gruesome looking injuries over the weekend. 

“Gooooo Sukuna!” Shoko cheers, pulling you back to the moment as you cheer alongside her.

“Please do well and be safe,” you whisper to yourself as you see the bucking chute fling open and Sukuna atop a speckled bull launches out into the arena. The animal is violently thrashing about, jumping higher and making more erratic movements compared to all the others. 

All the while, Sukuna looks like he’s getting thrown around, but ultimately stays on. He stays upright, successfully adjusting to each wild movement of the beast beneath him. At one point you swear he’s going to slide off, but he’s able to hold on even though his hat goes flying, revealing that slicked back pink hair hidden beneath. The maneuver earns a roar of applause from the crowd just as the buzzer sounds at eight seconds. 

The crowd is on their feet and Shoko grabs your arms.

“That was incredible! If he doesn’t place I’ll be shocked!”

“Oh my gosh I know, he really is amazing,” you smile, wildly impressed by what you just saw.

The man kicks off the back of the bull, the rodeo clown coming to his side to distract the creature while Sukuna jumps up onto the metal arena side walls. He pumps his fists in the air, firing up the crowd even more. Clearly he’s happy with his performance, so that must be a good sign right?

The crowd goes silent as the announcer comes back over the loudspeaker.

“Wow folks, what a way to end off the bull riding huh? Ryomen is always a treat and with the way he handled that bull, I’m excited to get the final score!”

The crowd hushes, on pins and needles as they await the announcement.

“Ryomen Sukuna, finishes off the round with a score of 94! Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this year’s Cheyenne Frontier Days and his second overall, THE Ryomen Sukuna!!” he excitedly announces.

Sukuna jumps off the fencing, tipping his head to the sky and seemingly yells. The crowd drowns out anything he does, but it’s obvious he’s celebrating himself. A black haired man about his size comes out and claps him on the back and Gojo joins, doing the same. 

“Yessss!” you and Shoko shriek, adding to the applause all directed at him. 

“You said you’d give him head if he won,” Shoko jokingly whispers in your ear.

“No way he remembers that!” you feel your face get hot, recalling your words before you walked away last night.

“Babe, there’s no way he forgot that,” she laughs, making you burst out laughing too. 

Sukuna gives a short little victory speech, trying to catch his breath as he speaks. 

“Thank y’all for comin’ out. Cheyenne has the best fans and there’s nothing else out there like it. I hope to be back next year to do this all over again! Oh, and come get your dolphin back, you know who you are, come get it,” he closes out his speech, making you and Shoko both gasp in surprise.

“Yeah he definitely didn’t forget,” she snickers, earning confused looks from both Nanami and Geto.

“Should I go??” you squeal, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“You can’t leave mister dolphin all alone,” Shoko shrugs. “We’ll wait for you, we wanna see Gojo anyways!”

You approach the VIP booth just outside of the building where you met Sukuna yesterday. Sure enough, your name is the only one on his list, like he was expecting you to come by. 

Winding your way through the halls, lots of people are in here now. Family and friends are all celebrating their various cowboys. Some are somber, others are excited to keep the party going. All the while, you think about what you’re going to say.

Your stomach is in knots, getting more and more anxious to be around him. You’d made that comment yesterday as a joke, you really didn’t want to suck his dick in such a public area. Noting that you were only concerned about the locale, you chuckle to yourself how the tables have turned. Going from hating his guts to wanting him to rearrange them was not on your radar this weekend, but you decided that you’ll just leave the rest to fate.

His door comes into view, sitting slightly ajar. You knock as you push it open and see the medical staff packing up their bags on the table. 

The black haired man you saw in the arena with him calls your name when you walk in.

“He’s in the shower, you can get something to drink if you’d like. He should be quick,” the man explains, gesturing towards the fridge.

“Oh thanks,” you respond, pulling a beer out and cracking it open. 

“Do you know Sukuna from somewhere before? Oh, name’s Toji by the way,” the man holds out his hand to shake yours.

“Uhh, I met him a few nights ago at a bar,” you explain, taking a swig of the cold drink in your hand. 

“Interesting. He never has guests back here, so it’s a bit of a big deal to be entertaining someone,” Toji chuckles.

Your heart starts to beat harder again, trying to determine what he’s insinuating. Sukuna was definitely prickly, so you weren’t surprised he didn’t willingly invite people into his space. For some reason you’ve been allowed to enter his abode and take up the space he was so stingy with offering to others.

“I’m gonna go, see you around,” Toji’s deep voice interrupts your thoughts. He waves before shutting and locking the door behind him.

You take a seat on the same plushy couch you spent time on yesterday. Pulling up your phone, you lean back and start texting Shoko that you made it over okay and to let you know when she was ready to leave.

Heavy footsteps coming down the hallway draw your eyes away from the screen and the sight before you practically takes your breath away.

Sukuna appears with a loose pair of jeans low on his hips, boxers just peaking out at the waistband, and no shirt on. His abs and chest are absolutely shredded and the black ink accentuates every ridge and muscle as it trails down his body. His tanned skin is full of old nicks and scars along with leftover water droplets from the shower he just took. Sukuna runs a hand through his damp, pink hair, pushing it up and back out of his crimson eyes.

You take a quick sip of your beer to wet your mouth which feels parched right now. 

“Congratulations!” you smile, watching as a dimple pops on his cheek, grinning back at you as he grabs his own drink from the fridge. As he approaches, you can’t miss the dark happy trail that starts on his stomach and disappears into his pants and the scent of his cologne has your mind getting hazy.

God the things you’d let the man do to you. You’re a girl who appreciates a hot man and you can’t deny that if given the chance, you’d love to run your hands all over those abs of his.

And maybe your tongue.

“C’mere,” he stands a few paces away, taking a swig of the beer in his hand. 

You stand up slowly, moving over to him. He’s massive and his height dwarfs yours. Pressing yourself against his chest, you wrap your arms around his back, feeling the muscles flexing beneath your fingers as they press against his damp skin. 

Sukuna wraps his own around you, pulling you tighter against him. You stay like this for a moment, letting your body weight lean into him. He smells amazing and his skin is hot against your cheek, but then again that could just be your own skin flushing from the intimate position you find yourself in. The wall of muscle between you and him gives you a better idea of how he’s able to stay up on those damn bulls.

One of his hands comes back around to tip your chin up, forcing you to stare into those crimson eyes. 

“Didn’t you say you were gonna give me something if I won?” His voice is low and smooth, lips curling into a smirk as you immediately get flustered.

“I can,” you swallow hard, feeling your eyes widen at the insinuation.

He sighs, giving you a warm smile. 

“A kiss will suffice. Not gonna ask you to do all that in here,” his voice rasps, much to your relief. Instead, he tilts his head lower, lips just grazing yours. His breath smells like the beer he just drank as he waits for you to meet him halfway. 

Which you of course do, molding your lips to his as you kiss him back. A faint groan rumbles up from his chest once you push your tongue into his mouth, trailing along his gums and teeth before his own tongue intercepts you. You both lazily fall into a rhythm, knowing there is nothing to rush for given you were in the privacy of his suite. 

His still damp hair presses against your forehead, a few droplets dislodging with your movements. His lips are so soft, quite the contrast from the rugged man you just watched dominate a violent animal not long ago. 

Suddenly, Sukuna’s tongue pushes your own back into your mouth, making you giggle in surprise. His lips curl into a smirk, but he doesn’t break the connection, letting you chase that warm muscle throughout your mouth.

Your fingers dig in harder into his back, feeling your nails press into the skin of his muscular shoulders. Sukuna’s own fingers thread into your hair, allowing him to reach even deeper into your mouth with his tongue as he deepens the kiss. Your movements become more fervent, the blood rushing through your body sounding like static in your ears. Sukuna starts to guide you backwards, the backs of your legs hitting the couch which you don’t hesitate to fall back into.

Momentarily, your lips unlock, staring up at him while he stands over you. He adjusts himself in his jeans, completely unbothered. The way his pecs jut out from where you sit make your mouth water, imagining what it would be like to kiss and lick all over his body. 

You were expecting him to join you, imagining that this was going to progress beyond kissing, but now you aren’t sure.

“What?” you ask softly, cocking your head to the side.

Sukuna is biting his lower lip, body tense like he wants to pounce on you, but he’s holding himself back. 

“Just thinking about all the ways I wanna take you, but I don’t have the time,” his cheeks flush, almost grimacing. 

You giggle, assuming he’s fighting a painful boner at this point and by the looks of the bulge in his pants, you’d be right.

“We can be quick,” you murmur, reaching out to grab his ass, pulling him towards you. “I said I’d reward you, didn't I?” 

He swallows hard, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking at the time. 

“I have like three minutes, just don’t really wanna rush it…”

You make quick work of his zipper and button, his words trailing off and morphing into a string of curses as you fish him out of his boxers. 

“Tell me to stop…”

He’s so hard in your hand, realizing how thick he is before you even see it.

“Fuck woman,” he groans, helping you shimmy his pants just low enough for his erection to spring out of his jeans. 

“Want m’cock that bad hmm - ohhh.”

You shut him up when you take him all the way to the back of your throat, gripping his bare ass to help steady yourself. Your nose brushes against his pelvis, inhaling the sharp scent of his body wash. You pause to adjust to the thick girth of his cock pressing against your gums and cheeks just as Sukuna’s hand gently fists in your hair, helping keep it out of your face.

Then you start to move, bobbing your head along his full length. You swirl your tongue around his tip, the salty taste of precum coating your tongue just before you take him deep again. You don’t ease into it, knowing you’re on the clock for whatever it is he has to get to. Right now you don’t really care. Even though you’re practically choking, it’s worth it to hear the breathy moans coming out of the man each time he hits your throat.

The extra spit produced by your gags is worth it anyways, helping keep everything more lubricated. When you hollow your cheeks out and increase the pressure, he can’t help but thrust deeper into your mouth, making you gag even harder at his momentary loss of control.

“Fuck, m’sorry,” he immediately apologizes, pulling his hips back. 

“It's okay, just not as deep,” you briefly pull back to answer.

His hands come down to wipe away the tears that have inevitably formed, now opting to meet your movements halfway. Hollowing your cheeks again, you hold still and just let him fuck your mouth. The smacking sounds of your lips fills the space along with the deep groans from Sukuna. 

Reaching up, you cup his full balls, feeling his cock stiffen up in your mouth.

“Fuck, feels s’good,” he rasps out, snapping his hips faster. 

“Shit. M’close,” he warns, his dick becoming extremely hard and balls tightening. He moves his hand off of your head, giving you the choice to remove your mouth if you wanted.

You instead force his cock as deep as you can handle and once he realizes what’s happening, he groans loudly as that first spurt of cum hits your throat. His hips stutter with each pulse of his cock pumping another hit of his thick load to your mouth. 

You keep sucking well after he finishes, earning a gasp from Sukuna as he just lets you keep going. Finally he pulls away, chuckling as the overstimulation finally gets to him. You release his dick with a pop, looking up into his lidded eyes as he just stares down at you with a dopey grin. Sukuna’s hand comes down to cup your cheek, thumb swiping across your lips to help gather the stray fluids at the corner or your mouth.

“That was better than winning a million dollars,” he grunts, tucking his soft dick back into his boxers before collapsing onto the couch next to you. His jeans still hang below his ass, but he doesn’t care, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you into a deep kiss. 

He surprises you by shoving his tongue into your mouth just as you gasp at his admission, kissing you hungrily where his cum was just released.

“Hold on hold on,” you push his chest away. “You won a million dollars just now??”

“Mhmm,” he answers nonchalantly, his eyes lidded and dark still staring at your lips. 

“I’m sorry, I like to think my dick sucking skills are decent, but there’s no way they’re better than receiving that much money,” you chuckle, staring at him dumbfounded.

“Tch, helluva lot more than decent,” he grits his teeth, fingers tightening on your shoulder. 

Oh is he a jealous man?

“And, I’ve already won that much money before. Already know what it’s like. Haven’t had my cock in your mouth before though. Felt way better,” he grins, trailing kisses up your neck to your ear.

“Ahh,” you sigh when he hits a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear. 

“What’re you doing? Didn’t you have somewhere to be?” you murmur, pulling away before you get too invested. 

He groans loudly, throwing his head back into the couch that resembles a small tantrum. 

“I do. Just feel bad I wasn’t able to reciprocate.”

You laugh softly, earning a curious side eye from Sukuna.

“I wasn’t expecting anything, I promised you something and I followed through,” you shrug, which is the truth. You enjoyed yourself enough watching him succumb to the pleasure you gave him. Even the rich and famous can still be brought to their knees the old fashioned way.

He suddenly grabs you, pulling you into his lap. You squeal in surprise when he forces you to straddle him, hands reaching for his muscular shoulders to help steady yourself. Sukuna’s strong hands latch onto your hips, fingers digging into your bare skin as they disappear under your loose tank top.

His dark, crimson eyes are still full of lust, staring up at you longingly.

“I want you to come out with me tonight. There’s an afterparty at one of the bars exclusively for the participants and select guests,” his deep voice states.

Your eyes widen at his request, not expecting to go to something so exclusive.

“Like, as your date?” 

“Mhmm. I’ll come pick you up from your friend's place. Just send me the address.”

His tongue pokes his cheek as he awaits your response. Your eyes trailing the ink that slides down his jaw, finding it accentuates his sharp cheekbones perfectly.

“I want all the time I can get with you,” he adds, blinking up at you. The small circles his thumbs are drawing on your skin just pull you under his spell even more.

The rational side of you stops to think. You’ve only known him for a few days but you already hold an affinity for him that you can’t quite explain. Wouldn’t spending more time just make the separation that much more painful?

Then again, maybe just making the most of this spontaneous encounter is the best course of action. You know it won’t turn into anything more and it’ll hurt no matter what. Might as well just live in the moment and it’ll be a fun memory to look back on.

“Sure, why not,” you finally answer, earning you a boyish grin from the man beneath you.

“Fuck yeah,” his eyes light up just as a knock on the door makes you jump.

“Press conference,” he explains, giving your ass a few taps as a sign to get up. 

You panic, not wanting to be caught so publicly with him.

“Oh, um, what should I do?” you ask as you stand up, trying to smooth out your clothes and hair. Sukuna however seems unbothered, his pants still unbuttoned and hanging off his hips as he stands up with you.

“Hang on a sec,” he answers, bounding quickly away to the bathroom and reappearing in a loose fitting Justin Boots shirt and a Yeti hat. 

Oh yeah, his sponsors. Wild to think you gave head to a guy who has sponsorships and just casually won a million dollars. He grabs a belt from the table and slides on a large buckle, noticing it was the champion stamp for the rodeo he just won.

“Oh, the dolphin is in my truck. I’ll give it to you tonight?” he grins as he tries to pull on his boots. He seems all giddy now, trying to get dressed but still hovering around you.

“Sure,” you respond, still unsure of what you should be doing. 

Sukuna moves over to the door, looking through the peephole. 

“Hmm, just my publicist,” he sighs, unlocking and opening the door to reveal a well dressed woman. She nods at you with a smile before turning to the cowboy.

“Congrats Ryomen, ready for your favorite part now?” she laughs, making him roll his eyes.

“I reckon I have to,” he groans, gesturing for you to come over. 

“Are there a lot of cameras out there?” he asks.

“Yeah a few. Want me to take her out the other way?” the woman answers, making you cringe internally, wondering how many times this has happened before.

Sukuna looks over to you, resting his hand on the small of your back before leaning down.

“I recommend not going out the main entrance with me unless you want to get plastered all over the media. They aren’t friendly to women I’ll just say that and I don’t wanna put you in an uncomfortable situation,” he explains, making your stomach feel queasy. The last thing you want is to be labeled as some cheap whore for the rodeo star to pass the time with.

Knowing what kind of women he’s been involved with, you don’t think you could take the critiquing and comparisons that would be thrown your way.

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best,” you say softly, looking down towards the floor.

“Alright, miss, follow me. Ryomen put your damn hat on,” his publicist snaps at him, going into business mode. 

Sukuna grabs his cowboy hat from a rack by the door.

“I’ll walk her out and meet you back here,” he grunts at the woman, guiding you forward with his hand on your back again. You walk wordlessly down the hall towards a dark corridor opposite the direction you came.

“I’m not doin’ this for any other reason than to protect you,” he breaks the silence, tipping his hat back to get a better look at you. “The press is ruthless and you don’t deserve that.”

“No I get it, no worries,” you respond, knowing it’s for the best. 

Eventually you make it to a door that opens up to a path leading up the side of the arena. Your friends should not be too far away.

“Send me your address, don’t forget. I’ll pick you up at eight,” he reminds you, spinning you around to cage you against the wall. 

Just as you start to regain your balance, he presses a harsh kiss to your lips, surprising you again. He stays like that for a few seconds, feeling his lashes flutter against your cheek as he tips the hat sideways to get it out of the way.

He finally pulls away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“See you tonight brat. It’ll be a welcome relief after fuckin’ around with the press for a few hours.”

You find yourself in the same bar as the other night. It pretty much looks the same: some shitty country band is playing for drunk people on the dance floor, the bar and booths are crowded with a sea of denim and boots, and everyone is fawning over Sukuna incessantly.

The main difference is that you are willingly spending time with Sukuna whereas the other night every other word out of his mouth was about to send you spiraling into a rage.

You’d both agreed that he’d introduce you as his friend if anyone asked. It seemed that being a rodeo cowboy was more wholesome than you realized. Almost half of the guys you met had wives or long term girlfriends while the other half seemed to be living their best lives as single guys with no shortage of women vying for their attention.

Sukuna was a bit of a mystery. He clearly had a girlfriend in the past, but he didn’t seem all that interested in attracting female attention now as a single man. Quite frankly you didn’t really want to witness that, fully accepting your attraction to him at this point.

“So you must come to a lot of these huh? Always winning it seems,” you say to him as you both find a place at the end of the bar to sit. He’s wearing the same clothes as earlier, just now in a more casual t-shirt instead of something collared.

Sukuna turns to face you, letting his arm rest on the back of your chair.

“It’s hit or miss honestly. When I was younger I liked the attention and having a good time. Now, sometimes crawling into bed seems way more appealing after getting my shit rocked by a bull,” he answers, mouth twitching with a smirk as he grabs his beer bottle and takes a sip. 

“Well it must have been worth your while to come out tonight,” you tease, earning a cocked brow from Sukuna in response who takes a long sip before speaking.

“Eh, we’ll see.”

“Ugh!” you smack his arm, pulling a mirth filled laugh from him.

“Kidding brat. I wouldn’t have invited you if I knew you’d be no fun,” he rolls his crimson eyes in amusement. 

“So what’s next for you? What’s your typical routine after you win a big competition?” you ask, curious as to what his life is like outside of these three days you’ve gotten to know him.

“Hmm, well my manager kinda keeps track of all that. Usually we see when the next gig is, then book a nice place to stay for the week before to relax before competing again. Just easier than spending time traveling all the way back to my family’s ranch just to fly out again. The only requirements are a good gym and a jacuzzi tub,” he explains.

“Is the loneliness hard?” you ask. “It seems like a lot of these guys have families.”

Sukuna chews on his thumbnail, pausing before speaking.

“Like I said, when I was younger it wasn’t really a concern of mine. When we were together, my ex would come visit and watch sometimes and while I did enjoy it at the time, thinking about her doing stuff behind my back just put me in a bad headspace,” he mutters, nodding at the bartender to get him another beer.

“Do you think you’ll ever try the whole dating thing again?” you lean closer, not wanting to speak too loud.

He chuckles lightly, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m not exactly looking, but I wouldn’t be opposed if the right one made herself known. No more famous models though, done with that shit.”

You laugh at his comment, bare shoulder accidentally brushing against his arm on the back of your chair. The contact sends a sharp jolt through your body.

“I’m sure you could have your pick of the cowgirl carbon copies that are hovering around in here,” you giggle, nodding your head at a group of girls just on the periphery who are staring at the pink haired cowboy next to you. 

“Nah, they get obsessed and entitled, it becomes their whole identity and they won’t leave you alone,” he laughs, “not worth it for some mediocre sex.”

“Okay mister too good for the average person.”

“Not what I said brat,” he clicks his tongue a few times but he never stops sporting that boyish grin that you’ve grown so accustomed to. Sukuna gets up briefly to use the bathroom and in the seconds after he disappears, a different cowboy you don’t recognize comes up to you.

“Wanna dance?” he asks casually. The man has a few obvious scars on his face and his hair is longer than you expected.

“Oh, I’m here with someone,” you quickly answer.

“Sukuna? He’s not a long haul kinda guy. Don’t think he’d mind.”

You just laugh awkwardly and try to turn away without responding. The guy seems a little intoxicated though, reaching out to grab your hand.

“C’monnnn. It’ll be fun-”

“Why’re you touching my date Mahito?” you hear Sukuna’s deep voice behind you, clipping his words in annoyance.

“C’mon Sukuna, you and I both know you don’t date. Just asking the pretty lady to dance is all.” Mahito tries to tug on your arm but Sukuna lunges forward first, grabbing Mahito’s shirt in his fist.

“Not true, back the fuck off,” Sukuna growls, the reds of his eyes flashing starting to darken.

That’s all it takes for Mahito to throw a punch at Sukuna, fist colliding into the side of his cheek. Sukuna doesn’t even flinch, making the other man wince as he realizes his attempt didn’t do jack shit.

“Ohhh-ho ho, you done it now you piece of shit,” Sukuna glares at Mahito, cracking his neck and knuckles. Sukuna looks like a giant compared to the other man.

“So possessive over some stupid slut-”

Mahito can’t finish his sentence because Sukuna violently shoves him into some empty barstools, causing the furniture to crash onto the floor. The crowds all stare over at your area, observing how Mahito shakes his head as he tries to climb out from the mess of chairs he’s tangled up in.

“Are you okay?” Sukuna comes to your side, unbothered by the man on the floor. He grabs your wrist where Mahito had grabbed you, inspecting it closely. 

You’re glad Sukuna put a stop to everything. Mahito putting his hands on you after you’d politely declined had your skin crawling. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly, still in shock that Sukuna could lay someone out so easily. 

Sukuna doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, even asking one of his fellow cowboys if his wife could accompany you to the bathroom so you wouldn’t have to go alone. Both of you take it easy on the booze, having a good enough time dancing and teasing each other. 

His hands become an almost permanent presence on your body as the night goes on. What started as a casual arm around the back of your chair morphed into tender caresses of his hand  on your thigh. Sukuna is respectful, not sliding too high up, but giving just enough pressure that lets you know he’s interested. 

The way his cheeks flush after each joke you throw his way makes your heart stutter. Sukuna’s eyes deepen with longing as he watches you talk, never interrupting, but listening intently to every word. Sometimes his large hand will give your thigh a squeeze if someone walks over to where you both are seated and begins talking to him. It’s like a constant reminder that even though he’s preoccupied, you’re still on the forefront of his mind. 

You try to forget that this is all for one night because you are having a blast with a man you will probably never see again. Your chest aches at the thought as you slowly watch the clock inch towards midnight. Sukuna’s own gaze flickers over to the clock on the wall, lip twitching into the beginnings of a frown.

“It’s almost time to leave huh?” you comment, watching his jaw tighten ever so slightly before he collects himself.

“Seems that way.”

Final call is announced and at that time, you start to gather up your bag and slip your jacket on. You were tired as it was and figured Sukuna was too. Sukuna closes his bar tab and threads his fingers in yours one more time as he leads you towards the exit. It’ll be nice to beat the rush before everyone tries to leave at one time.

He helps you up into his truck given you are just a tad bit tipsy, but he assures you he would have done it anyways. 

The ride back to Shoko’s is quiet, both of you ignoring the fact that the further from town you travel, the closer you get to saying goodbye. His hand still holds yours, resting on the center console. Whenever your hand trembles ever so slightly, you’re met with a rough squeeze of his own. The callouses on his palms feel rough, but comforting. It’s a feeling you’re trying to memorize and carry with you for as long as you’ll remember, but like all things, with time it’ll fade. 

You only hope you’ll at least recall how this night made you feel, even if the individual scenes and moments blend into each other like stars into dawn. The exact positions are something you can’t recall, but you know that like the fabric of the night sky, being with him right now brings relaxation and peace.

The road surface changes as gravel crunches beneath the tires. You’ve turned onto her family’s driveway, the porch light a speck in the distance. The stuffed dolphin from the carnival lays in your lap, the one memento you’ll take away from this weekend.

Maybe it’ll help you remember all this as time drags on.

You wonder what he’s thinking, if you both are experiencing the same storm in your minds. Sukuna seems tense, but his stoic expression gives nothing away, eyes trained on the road. So badly you want him to just turn the truck around, find some reason to extend your time together no matter how trivial it might be.

You aren’t picky right now. 

The truck suddenly lurches to a stop and for a moment you believe he somehow read your mind. Unfortunately it's just a racoon darting across the road, but you can’t help but be happy he didn’t run over the poor animal.

Instead of continuing on, Sukuna just falls back against his seat, sighing loudly. He cocks his head towards you, revealing a hint of sadness on his face. It catches you off guard, he doesn’t seem like the type to display anything close to vulnerability.

“What are we doing?” he mutters, thumb lazily sliding back and forth across your knuckles.

“You’re driving me back, no?” you answer him, unsure what kind of answer he’s looking for.

He huffs out a laugh, eyes closing briefly before looking back at you.

“You know what I mean.”

You search his face for a sign that he’d welcome what you really want to say like his words aren’t obvious enough.

Swallowing hard, you build up the courage to speak your mind.

“I don’t want this night to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he quickly responds.

“I’ll turn this car around right now, just say the word.”

 You stare straight out the front windshield, watching the prairie grasses billow in the headlights.

“You up for one more ride?”

Sukuna fumbles to turn the hotel room light on while he supports your weight with one arm. Your legs are locked around his waist and once he finally succeeds, he shoves your back against the wall, teeth clashing with the devouring nature of the way your lips are locked. 

It was comical how fast Sukuna had driven back to town, shocking you that he didn’t get a ticket. Then he’d practically grabbed you up in his arms and raced up to his room, stopping to press bruising kisses into your lips in the stairwell more than once. 

Now he’s moved to your neck and your hands are in his hair, sharp canines dragging down your skin interspersed with his tongue soothing the areas he bites. He groans when you dig your nails into his scalp, grinding his erection against your waist as he presses you even harder into the wall.

“Sukuna, hurts,” you gasp, wanting him to stop before he actually molds your body into the paint.

“Sorry,” he mutters, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are lidded and dark, lips puffy and red from the rugged exploration of your exposed body. Sukuna’s hair is a disheveled mess courtesy of your wandering hands, but altogether the sight makes your chest flutter.

It feels like mere seconds pass before you are under him on the bed, all of your clothes haphazardly thrown in the floor like a trail leading from the entrance where this all started.  

“Shit,” he growls, eyes roving all over your body like he can’t decide what he wants to focus on first. “So fuckin’ sexy.”

You’d say the same thing if he wasn’t already pushing your knees up to your chest and rubbing his tip through your soaking folds. Every instinct is telling you to slow down, it’ll probably hurt with the thick cock he’s palming right in front of you, but the little spark that jolts through your body when he presses against your clit says otherwise. 

You just can’t be bothered to pump the brakes, not when you burst into the room like two wildfires chasing gasoline, consuming every ounce of oxygen available in the enclosed space. 

Sukuna’s rough hands find your tits, rolling your nipples with his fingers. He’s rough and insistent, but somehow gentle, pulling lewd moans from your lips that you feel no shame in giving him based on the cocky smirk blooming across his face.

“Need it Sukuna,” you hook your legs around his hips, earning a look of surprise from the man when you pull him closer. 

“Now? Y’don’t want me to warm you up?” his husky voice and caring words just exacerbate the situation, making the ache for him inside of you even harder to contain, desperate to quench the fire within. 

“Been warming me up all weekend,” you giggle, pulling him down and forcing your tongue into his mouth. At the same time, you reach between your bodies, gripping his cock and guiding him towards your entrance.

“Shit woman,” he murmurs against your mouth, forehead pressed against yours. “Y’sure?”

“Mhmm, just pull out kay?”

His cock twitches in your hand like the mere thought of being inside of you is about to make him combust.

“Yeah, I will. Hold my shoulders.”

Thank god you do because the stretch is insane as he pushes inside of you. Even with how soaked you are, you feel every ridge and vein against your walls as he pauses to let you adjust.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, spreading your thighs further apart to try and help work you open without causing more discomfort.

Meanwhile your fingers dig into the skin of his shoulders as you suffer out the initial pain. You’re sure there will be marks leftover, but that’s just the cost of doing business with a cock this large. 

He slowly starts to thrust in and out, all the discomfort slowly fading into simmering pleasure once he gets all slicked up. The muscles beneath your fingers harden with each slow roll of his hips as he holds himself up above you.

Sukuna drives himself deeper, now beginning to move faster with each deliberate snap of his hips. The grimace on your face has quickly disappeared and now you’re moaning his name as he finds your sweet spot.

“Fuck, right there,” you gasp as he drags his tip against that pleasurable area that drives you wild.

“Tch, yeah? Like that brat?” he’s grinning as he watches you clearly falling apart underneath him. His chest and abs tense and flex with each thrust, tattoos rippling with his movements as he drills into you harder. You can’t even respond, completely in the throes of pleasure as your mind tries to keep up. 

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you feel the coil of desire threatening to burst and when his thumb comes down to find your clit, you know it's imminent. 

“Gonna come f’me?” he grunts, reading you like a book. Each slap of his hips against your pelvis only adds to the sensory overload he’s giving you. 

Shattering beneath him gives Sukuna his answer, eyes widening as he watches your orgasm tear through your body. You feel yourself clenching around his hardened length, earning a sharp intake of breath from Sukuna as you just let your body ride it out. A flood of warmth gushes from your core, now causing each thrust to emit a clicking sound as his cock glides through your release. 

Sukuna pulls out without warning, eyes screwed tight and cock pulsing in his hand as he tries to regain control. Your chest meanwhile heaves as you come back down from your high, sitting up on your elbows to watch him while trying to calm your breathing.

“You gonna come now?” you tease, trailing your foot up his inner thigh to poke his balls. “Gonna last as long as you do on those bulls?”

He narrows his eyes at your comment insinuating he can’t go longer than eight seconds.

“I’ve ridden enough this weekend, it’s your turn,” he grins and before you can respond, he has you both flipped around, you now straddling him with your hands on his chest.

“How do you know I haven’t been riding this whole time?” you joke. The way his jaw clenches is enough to tell you he didn’t like that, roughly grabbing you and shoving you down on his slicked up cock.

“Ohmygod I was joking,” you cry out as he thrusts up into you from below, the full feeling overtaking everything. He plants his feet on the bed and fucks you hard, finding your sweet spot once again, the slapping of his balls against your ass echoes through the room. If he has people in the rooms next to him, there’s no way they can’t hear this.

“Well I didn’t care for your joke,” he gives you a devilish grin as he watches himself disappear into your pussy with each harsh thrust. “Now fuckin’ ride me,” he abruptly stops, slapping your ass with a sharp crack.

The sting spurs you on to start riding his cock, your breasts bouncing in time to your movements. Sukuna seems mesmerized, eyes following the way they jostle and move. His large hands find your hips, digging into your skin as he bites his bottom lip.

“How’s it feel? Ridin’ the fuckin’ cham?,” he starts running his mouth again and you can’t deny that his words spur you on. You’re riding a guy who just earned a million dollars who shouldn’t be allowed to have a body this fine.

Riding him harder, you start to feel the familiar heat in your core as your pleasure builds. He just fills you up sooooo good, every inch of him pressing against your walls while his defined head plows that spot driving you towards the brink of ecstasy. 

Sukuna licks his lips before you guide his hands to your tits.

“Fuck,” he groans the second his hands touch the plush skin of your breasts. He squeezes them with no plan, completely at your mercy as you use his length to push yourself over the edge again. Your whole body jerks and contracts and Sukuna takes over to fuck you through your orgasm.

“Shit I’m close,” he pushes you off in the middle of your climax, positioning you on your stomach prone bone as he swiftly enters you again. He doesn’t even ease into it, fucking you harder than you even knew you could handle, vision going white as you continue to ride the high. Sukuna chases his own release, plunging himself somehow deeper as his rhythm starts to falter.

The next slam of his pelvis against your ass doesn’t come as he pulls out, groaning loudly when his hot, damp cum starts to coat your back. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sukuna grunts your name as each warm spurt hits your spine. He exhales loudly once he’s finished, falling forward to prop himself up on one arm, chest pressed to your back to kiss your shoulder. He’s careful not to crush you, peppering your skin with his soft lips, inhaling deeply against your neck.

The bed dips as he stops momentarily to climb over you.

“Hold on, lemme get a towel.”

Sukuna returns quickly and begins to gently wipe you down, running a warm washcloth over the sticky spots which feels so refreshing. He dries off your skin with the towel one more time before he chucks them both onto the dresser across the room.

He wastes no time manhandling you to lay on his chest. It was unfortunate that you couldn’t see his face when he came, but you know he’d been trying to get you in a position so he could pull out easier like you asked.

His face right now was flushed red, eyes a deep, dark crimson from his lingering desire. The fluffy, pink strands of his hair were a mess, giving him a cute look about him. 

“What?” he rasps, smiling at you.

“You just look cute,” you chuckle, earning a laugh from Sukuna.

“You look cute too. All fucked out and glowing,” he caresses your cheek, planting soft kisses on your head.

Your eyes feel heavy and your body content. All the tension from the weekend seems to have unraveled and been replaced with comfort, like something that had been lost was finally found. 

Or you were finally home after a long time away. His strong arms make you feel safe and the way he clings to you helps you commit to memory the way his body melds with yours.

You don’t really want to go to sleep, wanting to make the most of your night together. Maybe you’ll just doze off and then after a nap you can get back to it again. There’s so much more you want to experience with him. 

Given how good the sex had been in this first round, you can’t imagine what he could do if you let him take his time.

Lucky for you, you’d end up finding out over and over again throughout the night until the sun started breaking through the gaps in the curtains, marking the final day.

Comments/likes/reblogs appreciated ☺️ Also if you guessed Cheyenne Frontier Days was the real life rodeo you would be correct! TY for reading!!

<<Part 3 | Part. 5>>

Gojo might have flowers delivered to your door and fuck you when he wormed his way into spending the night with the excuse of helping on the night shift with Umi, but he hadn't been there before.

Not for half your appointments. Not for your labor.

God, if it hadn't been for Geto, he would've missed her birth.

He had been the one you met first. The one you knew better before his best friend went and knocked you up. The entire reason you even showed up to that party, chasing a stupid crush you were sure wouldn’t even notice you.

But he wasn’t the one you ended up sleeping with - or the one whose name was on the birth certificate.

"You deserve a night for yourself," Geto coaxed, and you knew that he was right. That you couldn't be there for her if you couldn't take care of yourself. Or let someone else help you do it.

Besides, wasn't it half Gojo's fault she existed anyway?

Maybe he’d worn the wrong condom size, but you were the one too stubborn to ask him to pay for a Plan B after it broke, clinging to your stupid pride. Too embarrassed to even face him after you hooked up until you absolutely had to, showing up to his frat house expecting him to shoo you away to get an abortion and slam the door in your face.

Perhaps if he had, you wouldn't feel the hints of guilt creeping in that you were sitting across from his second-in-command now, letting him say your name in that suave voice of his and tell you how pretty you looked in a dress that didn't quite fit your tits anymore.

Not that Geto seemed to mind, judging by the way you caught his stare drifting down to them no matter how chivalrous he was attempting to present himself tonight.

"It's just weird being away from her for this long," you shrugged your shoulders self-consciously, pulling back your hand to pick at the paint on your nails that was already flaking off despite the fact you'd done it only a few hours before your date.

You dropped Umi off with Gojo earlier, but he'd never watched her this long on his own either.

Would it start to become a more common thing? Afternoons or nights you swapped her so the other could go out and date around?

Despite Gojo swearing he only wanted to make this work with you, you had an incredibly difficult time picturing the campus's favorite playboy not pouring body shots on pretty girls all those Friday evenings he attended parties for his 'frat duties'.

You were sure that was just code for fucking other sorority girls and playing condom roulette to see if your daughter would get a half-sibling.

"She'll be okay," Geto reassured you, deliberately avoiding broaching who, exactly, was watching her right now.

That was the one topic the two of you tended not to discuss.

You wondered if it bothered him at all. Made him feel like shit when he held Umi and decided he'd rather be the stepdad instead of a supportive uncle figure.

Truthfully, you still couldn't understand why he decided you were worth fracturing his friendship with Gojo for.

If he had been courting you a year and a half ago, you probably would’ve been over the fucking moon. Thrilled that someone like him wanted you, but you simply weren’t the same girl.

It hadn’t slipped past you that all of Gojo's friends suddenly seemed to want you after he had you.

"Geto," you swallowed, unsure how to broach any of the thousand worries floating through your head as you worked up the nerve to bring up what had been looping through your head since he first started carving his own spot in your life for him. "You know Gojo will be pissed if he knows what we're doing right now."

"You didn't tell him?" He asked, amusement glinting in his dark eyes as you flitted your stare down to the tiny print on the menu below.

"You don't care?" You returned the question, sighing as you reluctantly looked back up at him.

"Do you want to be with him?" Suguru pressed, but you could tell be the curve of his smirk that he thought he already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear you say it.

Being with Gojo had never been a part of your previously well-thought out life plan. You had him pegged from the moment you saw him at a frat party your friend dragged you to during your first year here, surrounded by beautiful women and yes men, alcohol being poured in his pretty mouth. The kind of spoiled, stuck-up prick who breezed through life like they were used to winning first place just for existing. Handed the world on a silver platter.

And now he thought you were a prize he deserved simply because he got you pregnant.

But still, you weren't about to just make it easy for Geto either.

Not when you didn't even know if he really liked you, or the idea of stealing something from under Gojo's nose.

"Why do you want to be with me?" You returned his question rather than answering it, arching up an eyebrow and waiting for his response.

Even though you appreciated his help, it wasn't like you needed your support system of frat bros hanging around if all they wanted was to get in your panties.

Before he could reply though, a baby began to cry, and your head snapped up, scanning the restaurant as if it could somehow be yours, the ache in your breasts returning with a vengeance, a lot fucking harder to ignore when your tits were already confined in the tight dress you'd chosen tonight.

Maybe it was just how much you were missing her, your brain playing tricks on your ears, but it really did sound like her too, your heart squeezing and wrung dry as you glanced from table to table trying to spot where the baby was.

Wincing as you tried to readjust the strap of your dress, swallowing hard and cursing yourself for not bringing a pump or expressing the milk before you left your apartment, knowing that you'd probably have a clogged duct to deal with later. But before you could spot the baby, your waitress was returning, a practiced smile plastered on her face as she looked directly at Geto instead of you.

Probably sizing up the fact that a guy like him was a bit out of your league, or that this was a first date as she leaned over to his side and grinned at him, "Have we made up our minds?"

"I think we'll just get our food to-go," Suguru returned a polite smile to her, and a surge of panic spiked in your chest until his palm slid over yours with silent reassurance, his eyes narrowing as he slyly stole a peek at your chest like he knew why you were squirming before clearing his throat. "Baby's waiting for us back home."

The waitress's face deflated almost instantly.

Wrongly assuming that the two of you were more than just something casual. Thinking that the baby belonged to him.

"Oh, sure," she nodded numbly, regaining her composure. "What will it be?"

He ordered for both of you, and you just shuffled in your seat, caught somewhere between relief that he was freeing you from an hour and a half of discomfort and disappointment that your date would be ending like this.

But perhaps it was for the better.

Maybe it was a sign that this wasn't going to go anywhere.

And when she walked away with reassurances that she'd bring it out as soon as possible, you were about to apologize, but he just squeezed your hand as you started to softly say his name, "Geto-"

"How many times have I asked you to call me Suguru?"

You wished he didn't disarm you so effortlessly. Stalling your excuses with just a single look, with a simple motion of his thumb over your knuckle as he treated you like you were his girlfriend.

"Once the food comes out, I can go take care of you," he promised, and it wasn't until you were walking out to the car that it struck you how serious he was about that.

"You know, you don't have to-" You started, glancing down at the way he was still holding your hand in the parking lot, his fingers tightly gripping your hand and keeping you glued to his side as you tried to sound more collected than you really were. "I can just pump at home or-"

"I thought you liked it when I helped," he slyly said, teasing you in that soft voice of his, mouth curling up when your face flushed.

So what if maybe you let him get rid of your clogged ducts a couple times when Gojo was busy with work or class?

His big hands were good at it, thick fingers massaging and working the breast tissue as his lips latched on to you.

Besides, you liked the way Geto looked at you, even if it sort of scared you. The intensity in his stare, how he studied you like he was interested in every detail. How he spoke to you like you were something soft to be cradled, not just sloppy seconds or someone’s leftovers. The way he listened, his head tilted to the side as he nodded along with patience you’d never really received before.

You didn't need anyone.

Not Gojo. Not Geto.

Not even Sukuna, even if he was debatably the best when it came to helping with her or soothing her when she started to wail.

You could do it on your own.

But something about Suguru made you feel like it might be okay to be taken care of too.

“You know you can find someone better,” you bluntly blurted out as he held the car door open for you. He stopped, squinting down at you as you slid into the passenger seat.

Someone without stretch marks or, y’know, an entire baby with another man. Someone who would have all the time in the world to worship him without wanting or needing all the things you did.

“We need to work on your self-esteem,” he remarked, arching up an eyebrow with a sigh as he nodded towards your seatbelt to remind you to buckle up.

And before you could retort back that he hadn’t disagreed, he was shutting the door and walking back around to his side.

Like he could somehow anticipate what you were preparing to say, his mouth had already parted when he got in too, “If you want me to tell you how much I like you, all you have to do is ask.”

Suguru knew exactly how to shut you up.

And five minutes later, he had your dress pulled down, both breasts freed and exposed as he groped and squeezed and sucked you dry. Thick fingers dimpling your skin as he sank them in deep, his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple and greedily drinking up every ounce of milk you leaked out.

Tongue dragging back over the peaked buds whenever any escaped, your fingers lacing through his dark hair as you tilted your head back and scrunched your eyes shut. Trying not to moan at the way he was holding you, one arm slipped around your back to pull you closer as he leaned across the center console to suck on your swollen breasts.

The to-go boxes half-forgotten in the backseat, the radio playing some slow, soft song as he groaned into your nipple, his sharp teeth grazing over it to send a sharp shudder through your body.

Glancing up at you with delight glimmering in his stare, possessively pulling you in as he popped off your chest.

“You’re wasted on Satoru."

And even though he didn’t say it, you could feel it.

Geto thought it should’ve been him.

ꕤꕤꕤ

Gojo wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel until the air bag went off.

Maybe if it broke his nose, he could get enough sympathy points from you that you’d stop seeing Suguru. And he’d never have to see his best friend sucking on your breasts from across the parking lot.

Umi was asleep in her car seat in the back, leaving him to his own embarrassing thoughts as he forced himself to turn the key in the ignition. To start the car after he completely and utterly failed the mission he should've never gone on in the first place.

You'd maim him if you knew he was spying on you with Suguru. Maybe accuse him of being a creep and somehow think even less of him than you already did.

And despite how much it fucking sucked, he forced himself to pull out of the parking lot and leave you there with your tit in Suguru's mouth, feeling like a moron for thinking tonight would ever end any differently.

Suguru was a good guy.

Didn't have the reputation he did. Was quiet where he was loud, soothing where he was brash. Wouldn't make you wonder where he was or what he was doing or who he'd been with before.

Of course, you'd choose him.

Gojo guessed he should just be grateful you'd have to at least spend the next eighteen years co-parenting with him. Attending parent-teacher conferences and planning birthdays and holidays.

But even when he made it back to your place, warming up a bottle to feed Umi, watching her big blue eyes sleepily blink up at him as her chubby little fingers still tried to grab it, he couldn't fucking imagine having to share her with Suguru.

Seeing her look up at his best friend and babble dada to him, at the apparently growing possibility he might miss her first steps, her first words, her first everything and Suguru might get them instead.

Spiraling long after he put her back down in her crib, laying flat on your couch and staring at the ceiling to count the seconds until you came back.

God, since when had he gotten so pathetic?

Why couldn't he just figure it out and fix this? What would it take for you to give him a try?

Did you want him to grow out his hair? Start watching pretentious foreign films?

He still didn't have a clue by the time he heard your key in the lock, sitting up straight and smoothing out the wrinkles and spit-up stain on his shirt as he automatically started walking towards the entrance, nearly running into you when you walked in.

"Hey," he muttered, running his hands through his hair and pretending he didn't notice how your lip gloss had smeared, or how stray strands of your hair were sticking out as you peeled your purse off your shoulder and hung it up by the door.

"Hey," you murmured, wiping the back of your mouth just to stumble a little trying to slip off your heels.

And even though he knew you didn't need his help, he was still holding out his arm for you to hold onto him and steady yourself while you took them off.

"Enjoy your dinner?" He murmured, and you cringed a little, looking up at him with the slightest hints of apology in your smile as you held up a to-go box in your other hand.

"Who told you?" You asked, even though he could see it in your stare that you already suspected the answer.

"Sukuna mentioned it," he admitted.

"I should've said something," you cleared your throat, the closest you could probably come to a sorry.

"It's fine," he lied, no matter how far he really was from it.

"Do you want the rest?" You offered, as if your leftovers were some olive branch.

One he'd gladly take it.

"Sure," he shrugged, grabbing it as you let go of his arm. "So, are you guys, like a thing, or-"

"It's not like you're not seeing other women," you defensively muttered instead of actually answering, scowling at him as he went slack-jawed.

"I'm not," Gojo huffed, unsure what the hell he had to do to get you to understand that.

Wear a fucking cock cage and give you the only key?

"Gojo," you said his last name, bottom lip pushed out all pretty, and he wished he could make you believe how badly he wanted to make it yours too. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

He actually thought you were incredibly smart.

Gojo would give up everything just to breathe in the scent of your soft skin every day and listen to your voice as you talked about your studies as he stroked your hair and nuzzled his nose against your neck.

But instead, all that came out was a stuttered, "N-no?"

"You're at frat parties every weekend," you pointed out, holding your nose up high as you exhaled, walking past him like you had come to your conclusion.

"B-but only as the president, I'm not-"

"You don't speak to the pretty girls that come up to feel your muscles and offer to play stepmom?" You sarcastically asked, and Gojo wished you could look a little less gorgeous when you were glaring at him.

"I mean, I only talk to them," he tried to explain, but he knew that was the wrong thing to say when you just scoffed and shook your head.

"Me and Suguru just talked then," you huffed, and Gojo hated how you said his name. Loathed that he probably got to hear it while he was still relegated to Gojo.

Especially when he had seen first hand what you meant by talking.

His mouth opened, but it never seemed to be able to form the right words to get you to see him.

"I'm going to bed," you stubbornly insisted, padding barefoot back to your room while he hopelessly stared at your shrinking figure.

What would it take to be the one you wanted to go to sleep with?

And how the hell could he make sure that Suguru never got the chance?

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Suguru Geto has sworn to serve his country. It is right. That’s what the recruiter told him. It’s what the newspapers screamed in blaring headlines. But why does his mouth feel dry and his hands hot as he signs the paper to join the intelligence services. He will become a traitor and give false information to the enemy. Operation Pigeon it’s called. He will leave the men he has spent months with, seemingly betray them. It feels twisted somehow. Suguru can’t describe it, but it eats at him. But he isn’t betraying his country. He is doing exactly as he was commanded by the higher ups. 

My Dear Little Wife, 

I do not want to inflict upon you the things I have seen. So if you do not want to read of what I have done, please burn this letter. I only write it to you because I have no one else, the other men do not seem to carry it the way I do. I feel as though I am the only one. I am so alone without you. 

I killed a boy yesterday. He looked so young. He looked so hurt and confused as he lay dying. I felt as though I had killed my brother like the brother in Phantastes when he killed the eagle and wept for it was as though he had shot down his own brother. I took his life and crushed it under my foot. I am glad you can not see me now. I killed a boy. I killed him. 

Do you think that Heaven will forgive me? 

I love you. I love you and that is why I am fighting this war. So you will live in a world that is safe, that is just, that is right. I am fighting for the ideals we were promised, Sweet Love of Mine. 

Love, Your Adoring Husband

Sweat drips down Suguru’s brow. They had taken the island. But at what cost? Half of his men were gone. What was left of them were not fit for combat. He had made contact with an enemy spy master and had been passing along information for weeks now. It was, of course, what he was told to pass on, old reports, inaccurate shipments, information accurate enough to avoid suspicion, but innocent enough to avoid harm. His role was to put pressure on the enemy, to claim that his position was weakened and he needed to go over to their lines. Then he would begin to siphon information back through his handler. 

It was simple on paper. And Suguru was sure that the higher ups thought it would be mere child’s play for him. Of course, they would think that from their padded leather seats up in D.C. 

Tonight, he had until tonight. Suguru wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. The sun never seemed to rest in the jungle. God, he wished he was back home. 

“Sweat. I swear that’s all we do out here,” a voice calls out to him. Suguru gives a lazy salute to his commanding officer. Herrera, a tall man who speaks slowly in the singing trill of New Mexico, leans against the jeep Suguru is servicing. Suguru gives him a grin. It is forced but Herrera can’t tell. No one can tell when Suguru lies, he’s learned that the past few months. He is a natural born liar. 

“I don’t know how anyone managed to live here,” Herrera says. “Say,” he turns his swarthy face to Suguru. “Your people are from around here - how’d they survive in the heat?” 

Suguru doesn’t bother to correct him. There is no use in that. He has learned that lesson since boyhood. Let them think what they are going to think. 

“I don’t know I’m from up North. You’re the one from the desert, you should be the expert,” Suguru says, fiddling with a mechanism. 

Herrera snorts. “The heat's different up there in the mountains. There’s no humidity for one. I can go under a tree and get cool, here I’d be hot swimming in the river.”

Suguru shrugs. “It is awful. But what beats the heat is the odor.” 

“Mother of God,” Herrera grumbles. “I swear when I get home I’m going to burn everything the corps gave me and boil myself. 

  Suguru laughs. When Herrera gets home he’s sure that will be the last thing on his mind. The slimy bastard was two timing two women at the same time. A girl called Maggy, with high cheekbones and eyes like black fire, and a girl named Pilar with reddish brown curls and pink cheeks. Herrera was a good man to follow even if his personal life was the subject of many bets in the barracks. 

“How about you?” Herrera asks, his dark eyes focused on Suguru. Suguru wipes his hands on a rag. Home. His wife was home. He would kiss her and then he would search her body for any change he could find. He would love her, discover her once again. 

Suguru shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not sure.” 

Dear Darling Wife, 

Have I ever told you how much I love your ankles? Your elbows, the way I can tell you are smiling even if your back is to me? Well, now I have. 

In your last letter you wrote that the roses are lovely now. Please save me a rose. Press it into one of our old textbooks. If this letter reaches you while they still remain. I wish I was there to see the garden we sowed coming to life. I long for the clean cool air and your hair. Your hair always smells so lovely. I wish I could press my nose into your hair and inhale your scent. The men here smell horrendous. I thought back in high school that the locker rooms smelled foul, it is nothing compared to a few hundred men in desperate need of a shower and clean clothing. It is disgusting. I have decided that we will only have daughters. I cannot imagine living in a house full of boys. We will have girls and they will be just as pretty as you. 

How are my parents? I write to them, but you know my mom, she never is honest on how she actually feels. 

I love you, my Dear Little Wife. I love you so much. I hate being parted from you. But I must follow this to the very end. 

Love, Your Adoring Husband 

Night has swept over the camp. The jungle is alive around them, pressing and forcing itself back into the territory they have taken. Suguru waits with the jungle. Tonight, it will be tonight. 

Suguru creeps from the barracks as soon as they are asleep. Gojo stirs in the bottom bunk, but Suguru made sure to get him tipsy earlier. He walks from the barracks and out. He keeps his back straight and walks like he is supposed to be out after curfew. The sentinels nod to him or ignore him. After all, he’s Suguru, their buddy, the man they’ve spent two years with. 

Herrera once told him about the brujas de la montana. Women that were beautiful during the day but became owls at night. Two faced. It's fitting really.

The jungle hums to him. Two miles, he will go two miles out until he is picked up and taken to the enemy camp. He has to cross the jungle alone, avoiding sentries and patrols. 

“Stop and state your name!” A voice calls out to him. Suguru slips behind a tree and waits. A mistake, if the man was following protocol, he would have instantly shot Suguru. He doesn't, instead he takes a few steps closer to Suguru. It gives Suguru enough space to tackle the man to the ground. Placing his hand over the man's mouth. In the moonlight, Suguru can see the man’s pupils dilated in fear. He thinks I’m one of them, Suguru thinks numbly. He has never belonged to any nation or any cause in the eyes of some. Except you, he’s always been yours in your shining eyes. 

Strangled cries leave the man’s mouth. If anyone hears. . . Suguru’s orders were clear. He had permission to eliminate any threat to his mission. Suguru’s large tan hands wrap around the man's throat and he squeezes. The man wheezes and claws at Suguru’s hands. It’s taking too long. Suguru squeezes even tighter.

The man stops moving. Suguru stands. His back is to the camp. The jungle is open and his duty is calling. 

He takes his first step in; he doesn’t look back. If he had he would have seen the man’s fingers twitch. 

The months pass and Suguru smuggles what information he has. He prays they won’t make him kill his fellow countrymen. So far, he has been focusing on translating for the enemy, and then he sits with the officers, listening and remembering for when he meets his handler next. At night he remembers the man he killed. The way his hands felt around his neck, the sweat and feel of the man’s skin, the hum of insects, the wild look in the man’s eyes as he clawed at his neck. The man’s face won’t leave him. He had swallowed his orders and done them exactly, but why did it sit on his stomach like lead? It wasn’t like the first time he killed, he had killed before, fired upon faceless nameless men. But the man he strangled and the boy who had jumped into his foxhole, they were different. Maybe it was the eyes. The boy had been surprised like he hadn’t expected Suguru to kill him. He had an innocence like a child experiencing its first cruelty. The man. . . He had been so scared. 

Suguru had followed orders. He had killed one man to save the lives of many, but still the man’s face soured in his gut. 

My Dear Little Wife, 

   I sometimes think that I was meant for another age. An age of truth where all liars burn, but that is Hell, isn’t it? But I feel as though I am in Hell. I have seen the worst and the best in men. The best ones are already dead, the good men. Yu Haibara was a good kid, fresh out of high school. He looked up to me, Love. They killed him. Yu’s buddy Nanami Kento died a few months later, half of his body was missing, and the half we did find was nearly unrecognizable. Armando Reyes died dragging his brother’s body to safety. Victor Reyes died a few minutes later, his older brother’s corpse on top of him. Phil Conley lost his mind and sits in the corner of his barracks rocking back and forth and crying for his mother - he’s sixteen and sees ghosts instead of people. The best ones are gone, the ones that were good and kind and honorable. The kind of men that come home and do good in the world. They were so good, the best of this generation. 

Why is it? Why do the best die young, and we that live are not fit to stand in their shadows? The ones that live are broken beyond repair. I know a few guys that scream in the night. But being broken is better than enjoying. My best friend, I have written to you about him. Satoru Gojo, he is made for war. He doesn’t mind the blood or the shelling, in fact he thrives in it. He is not evil, just a separate entity, it is as if the blood does not touch him and he is above it. I wish I was like that. That the boy I killed doesn’t linger at the corner of my vision. 

I am sorry, love. I have changed. I hope when I come home you still recognize me. That you remember me as I was, but still love the man that I have become. I am a far reach from the neighbor that would climb up the tree to your bedroom and talk with you for hours while your parents screamed. But I am still yours. I still love you completely. I am yours wholly and as truly as the roses grow up our front porch. 

I cannot write for a while. Do not worry, I live still. I just will be stationed where my letters can reach you. I hope my love for you still reaches you despite the oceans and mountains and forests that separate us. Nothing can separate us completely. Our souls are so tightly entwined I doubt that even wily Odyesseus or Athena in all her cunning and cruelty could unbind us. Goodbye for now, I will see you when this war is over. I promise.

Love, Suguru Geto the Man that loves you

Two years have passed and Suguru has stayed smuggling information out. But he can sense the end is near. He can feel the eyes on him - the suspicion growing. He is no stranger to suspicion, he faced it in his own camp from men that he stood beside in the face of death. 

So he plans his escape. He contacts his handler and informs her that he can no longer remain undercover, he must return. He knows his old unit thinks he is a traitor, but according to his government, all will be revealed when he returns. His service will be recognized after the war, when fear of retaliation against his wife and family is gone. But until then Suguru Geto will be remembered as a traitor. 

He leaves after the soldiers have just engaged his countrymen and are exhausted. He leaves and heads the path his handler had hurriedly told him to take to where a ship would pick him up off of the island. 

But it is not Suguru Geto’s destiny to live. The patrol that captures him just happens to be members of his old unit. Tex sees him first. Before Suguru can move, he has four rifles pointed at him. 

They curse him, beat him. He stays silent, Suguru has a vow to keep, a wife that will never know who or what her husband has become. The men that have decided to kill him will never know either. 

They have him dig his own grave. They send one of the men back for the rope. Suguru remembers sitting in his 5th grade history class being lectured to about Nathan Hale. They hung him too, but he was remembered as a hero. Suguru knows he will not be. He has never had the makings of a hero. 

“Why?” Herrera asks. “Why? We fought beside each other - you were our brother.”

Just a few more miles and he could have reached the coast. Just a few more miles.

Suguru stays silent. Herrera’s eyes flash with the wrath of his ancestors, fighting and killing each other over dry dust and a land that feels nothing but hate. Suguru’s violet eyes meet Herrera. He feels a tinge of something he can’t explain. Herrera was built from rocky mountains and old forgotten passions. Herrera will not come back from the war the way he was before. He’s tasted blood and will have to be put down, he will never accumulate to peace. Herrera spits. 

“You told me once about the mountain witches,” Suguru says. His eyes can’t seem to leave Herreras. “Men wear many faces.” 

Tex ties the rope around Suguru’s neck. He does not meet Suguru’s eyes, but his hands clench around Suguru’s neck like he would love to squeeze the life from Suguru’s lungs. 

Gojo and the fourth man are last. Suguru doesn’t recognize him and he doesn’t care to spend his final moments thinking about a man he has no ties to. 

Gojo climbs down from the tree where he was tying the rope to a branch and steps in front of Suguru.They stand chest to chest. His eyes are dark for once. Suguru longs for his wife. But at the same time, he feels a relief in his bones. This is the final lie he will have to spit out. 

“Any last words?” Gojo asks. 

“I never regretted it.” Why should he, he served his country, did his duty. His only regret is that he will never come back home to his wife. 

“Bastard.” He isn’t sure who said that. He is kicked into the open grave. The rope snaps taut and he is dying. 

Dear Madam: 

  It is my regret to inform you that your husband died in the line of service of his country. He was a brave man that fought until the very end and kept his oath to be faithful to our great nation. 

  It is our prerogative that the details of your husband’s death not be revealed until after this war is over. 

  We express our deepest regrets and promise that Suguru Geto’s legacy will be that of a hero. 

Sukuna found himself in another’s body in his mid-twenties, awakening one morning in complete darkness, even though he’d been certain his eyes were open. It was a strange feeling at first, a resignation to a suspicion he’d held all his life that there was no destined person for him, giving in to the belief that he’d spend a day floating in nothingness with no other half for his soul to cling to.

His assumption was broken swiftly, at the realisation that he still held some manner of awareness even if his sight was impaired. There was a breeze blowing against his body, chatter sounding off in the distance, and soft sheets were pressing up against skin which surely wasn’t his.

This person, whoever they were, had a body that was exhausted. He ached in places he’d never ached before, his shoulders and upper back straining, like their owner had been carrying a weight beyond their capability. He felt desperately weak in that form, suddenly aware that he only had a human number of limbs to control, and lacked the strength and size he was used to commanding.

In the darkness clouding his vision, he was surprised to find that the blackness wasn’t as deep as he’d originally thought, able to make out fuzzy shapes in the dark which he could only assume made up his surroundings. His hand reached for his eyes, setting his lips into a grim line at the confirmation they were open.

His destined lover was blind.

Disappointment settled into his chest. He had never taken much stock in soulmates in the first place, didn’t really believe in love, but this just furthered his confirmation that the whole matter was a farce. He found respect for the strong - strength was the only thing that truly mattered to him, and yet here he was, in the body of a blind woman.

A feeble little thing hardly able to fend for herself.

What good was she to a man like Sukuna?

A knock on the door startled him. “Are you awake? The madam wants me to help you get ready.”

Sukuna said nothing, trying to figure out why it felt like your body wanted to draw in on itself, your pulse quicking in a seemingly innate reaction to the voice at the door.

“Please, I know you’ve been ill but he’s been calling every day for the past week, the madam doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer. He’s been bringing forth all manner of threat, and if you’re not careful he’ll buy you out. I know that isn’t what you want. Just let me tend to you and allow him a visit. Keep his temper at bay.”

Sukuna frowned, attempting to piece together what was happening. It was hard without the visual clues of his surroundings, but based on the snippet of conversation he concluded that you were likely a courtesan of some form. Once again, his view of you, and the soulmate system in general, dropped through the floor.

Blind and a whore.

Perfect.

“One moment.” He called out, taken aback by the lovely feminine voice that fell from his lips. It was a soft, delicate sound, one which wouldn’t sound out of place accompanied with a harp. He found himself shocked at how much he enjoyed it, considering saying something else just to hear it again.

Finding the door proved to be a more difficult task than he’d been expecting. He’d already stumbled standing up from your bed, thrown off by his lack of vision and by feet that were ridiculously small compared to what he was used to. His centre of gravity felt all wrong, and his body felt generally unbalanced without his lower set of arms.

Moving at a snail's pace, he made it across the room, impressed that he didn’t run into anything on his journey over. He was grateful for the shadowy outlines present in your visionless gaze, certain that the situation would be made harder without even that as a guide.

Fumbling for the handle, he slid open the door. “Morning. Oh honey, you look like a ghost.” A hand pressed against his skin, and he was ushered over to another part of the room, grateful for the guidance. There was the sound of a chair being moved. “Take a seat.”

Sukuna hesitated, not quite sure where the chair was. He reached out nonchalantly with his hand, trying to feel for it while the other woman’s focus was elsewhere, seemingly rifling through a bag of something. Able to just about make out a black splodge in the centre of his vision, Sukuna took a seat, only to thud down onto the floor.

It hurt. It hurt significantly more than pain Sukuna was used to enduring. He’d experienced all manner of injury - he’d had his blood and guts pouring out onto the floor in the midst of a fight, but somehow this was worse. How fragile was this body of yours? He was glad that he wasn’t born as some weak human, grateful that the abominable aspects of his body increased his strength rather than weakened it.

How could you live like this?

“My lady?” The woman seemed immediately panicked, reaching down and easily hoisting you up by the arm, aiding Sukuna onto the chair. “I’m sorry, you usually tell me you don’t need assistance, I wasn’t expecting-” she cut herself off for a moment, leaving Sukuna in silence and struggling to read the room with no visual cues. “You don’t seem like yourself at all this morning. You’re being very quiet.”

Sukuna said nothing, certain that he could hear the hint of a smile in the woman’s tone.

It was said that when soulmates swapped bodies, you could not under any circumstance tell someone that you were a different inhabitant to usual, else the spell would be broken and you’d both be immediately sent home.

It was an option Sukuna had contemplated the moment the woman walked in, eager to return to his own healthy form. However, he was also a man of great curiosity and it wasn’t like he had much going on at his estate that day anyway. So he opted for silence, figuring he’d at least see, or hear, how the day played out.

There was no harm in that.

Regardless, the woman had seemingly sensed it immediately based on her sudden change of demeanor, but being likely as aware of the rules as Sukuna was, she kept her suspicions silent.

“It's Officer Sugawara who’s set to see you today,” she explained, soft hands running through your hair with a comb, giving Sukuna a shiver of pleasure. “You usually play shogi with the guy for a while and let him get drunk. He’s a proud man who’s desperate for a legitimate win, so you always give him your best and he refuses to give up until he’s too pissed to think anymore. So be on your best game, or he might want to pass his time in another way.”

The warning was clear and Sukuna found himself disgusted. If that man tried to lay a single hand on you while he was inhabiting your body, he’d make sure Sugawara wouldn’t walk out of the establishment alive.

Fortunately, Sukuna was an avid shogi player. He held a great love for the game and was self-assured where his skill was concerned. No one in his estate could beat him, so he was certain he could beat some Officer of the Shogun.

Although, he’d never played it blind - a fact that mildly concerned him.

He hoped the pieces were skillfully made with deep indents, else he’d be completely lost.

“Even though you’re usually talkative with me, you’re not all that chatty with regulars, so it’ll be fine if you stay quiet. On account of you not feeling yourself and all,” she said with a knowing giggle.

It took an ungodly amount of time for that woman to get you ready, and Sukuna wondered how you could bear experiencing such a thing day after day. It seemed such a waste to have so much effort devoted to doing your hair and make-up, and dressing you up, when you couldn’t even see the end result.

For all you knew you could look like a clown.

But Sukuna quickly became certain that wasn’t the case when he was led into another room, your helper grasping his arm in a steadying manner and making sure he was settled down on a pillow before introducing him to a man sitting opposite him. Sugawara wasted no time with greetings, letting out a gasp of awe at your radiant appearance and reaching out to kiss your hand.

Sukuna wanted to reel away at the feeling but remained still all the same. He hoped he didn’t have too much of a scowl on his face.

Even if he didn’t have any interest in you, he didn’t really want to ruin the life of some random blind girl. He loved cruelty, but even for him that felt like an unnecessary slight to a person who was supposed to hold the other half of his heart.

“You look gorgeous. Not sickly at all, might I add. I hope the madam hasn’t been telling lies.”

You were sick - outside of the blindness - Sukuna could feel it. At first he’d brushed off your frailty as something normal for puny little humans, but since rising from your bed he’d become aware that your quivering legs, aching bones and hummingbird heart were far from normal.

“I haven’t been well,” he said simply.

“Oh you poor thing, it's always the most beautiful ones who suffer the most.”

Sukuna found himself wondering what you looked like. He had a vague knowledge of Official Sugawara - he wasn’t an ugly man, certainly not one lacking in prospects by any means. He was powerful in his position in the government, and wasn’t the type who would visit some woman out of pity.

You must’ve been genuinely gorgeous to earn such affection from him.

It was a shame Sukuna would never know.

He wouldn’t look for you once he was back in his own body. He’d move on with his life and that would be that, leaving this day as nothing more than some distant dream.

The games of shogi went by quickly, and Sukuna found that it was easy to slip into your body without arousing suspicion. Once he’d gotten over the original barrier of having to feel each piece for their indents as he picked them up, he fell easily into the flow of it all.

This man across from him seeked little conversation once the games had started, and Sukuna was pleased at how well he was playing that afternoon. He didn’t let the man win once and, as your attendant had mentioned, Suguwara filled himself up with more and more drink. It felt nice to play someone outside of his estate, most of his servants were too afraid to face Sukuna in any sort of test.

It was equally nice to completely destroy a government official with his skill. He was certain this man was having the worst game of his entire life, unaccustomed to this treatment from the lovely courtesan he’d frequent.

But it was at the end of the seventh game, when Sukuna was feeling at his highest, that a disastrous hit would come to his ego.

“You’re really off your game today. I see you really aren’t feeling well,” Sugawara said. There was the sound of shuffling fabric, as if the man had leant forward.

“What?” Sukuna asked, the low disbelief coming out strange in your small voice.

“Your plays are much sloppier than usual. It feels like you’re going easy on me, given you usually destroy me before I can even think about what to do next. Today you’ve been giving me proper games. I don’t like it. You know I hate being pitied.”

Sukuna had to stop his mouth from falling agape.

He wasn’t playing bad games by any means, on the contrary, he was certain that he was playing better than he had in a while, happy to have a new opponent for once. Was this man really saying that you, the normal you, was more skilled at shogi than he was? He really found that hard to believe.

What would some blind courtesan know of tactics?

“Perhaps you’ve simply improved,” Sukuna mumbled bitterly, unwilling to accept that your mastery was greater than his.

Sugawara laughed. “How polite of you, my dear. I can assure you that isn’t the case, and we both know it.” There was some shuffling, and Sukuna sensed that the man was climbing to his feet. It was frustrating to have such limited vision, and he was glad to know that he’d wake up the following day able to see the world once more - he couldn’t imagine living like that all the time. “I’ll leave you to rest. When I return in a few days you best have returned to form, or perhaps the nature of our meetings will need to change.”

A heavy hand rested on your shoulder, wet and clammy against the silk you were draped in. Sukuna wasn’t sure if the disgust was born from his own thoughts on the matter, or from an impulsive response from your body. From your attendant’s words it was clear that you would never sleep with the man, likely keeping your shogi skills sharp to ensure he never won.

Once he was gone, Sukuna sat there in silence, thinking on the man’s parting words.

Were you really so talented?

Part of him wanted to convince himself that he’d been playing worse than usual on account of not being able to see the board, making it difficult for him to think out moves in advance, taking more time than normal while he grazed the pieces with his fingers.

But deep in his soul he knew that wasn’t the case.

He’d played expertly, and still that man knew his opponent wasn’t the real you. All on account of how amateur Sukuna’s ability had seemed compared to yours.

And as his day drew to a close in your body, he realised that he had to know. He had to play you, had to see firsthand just how dramatically your skill exceeded his. He wouldn’t believe it until he’d seen it.

The soulmate thing didn’t matter.

But he needed to meet with you all the same.

Just to sate his interest. That was all.

—

Months had passed since the day you’d swapped with your soulmate. Since the morning you’d awoken to a world of light of colour you’d never seen before, and would never see again.

It was a day you’d never be able to forget - the image of the grand estate you’d awoken in seared permanently into your mind, just like the face of your soulmate who had stared back at you in a bronze mirror. You’d gazed upon his body for longer than you should admit to, wondering for a brief moment if you’d misunderstood how humans looked.

That thought didn’t remain for long. It took no expert to understand that the man you’d been paired with was something unique - the very four armed monster who had half of Japan living in fear.

And as such, you wished you could forget your experience in his body, wished you could see anything but his oddly charming face, because your promised beloved was a monster of the highest calibre. But with only one singular day of vision under your belt, what you’d seen wasn’t so easily displaced, and you found yourself thinking of him often with a longing that you knew to be wrong.

You had told no one of the experience, not even your handmaid, who had outright asked what your body swap experience had been like, what your soulmate had been like, claiming that whoever they were had presented themselves as rather reserved when possessing your body. You’d brushed her off with a shrug, claiming him to be some soldier and nothing more.

No one could know the truth. If they knew you to have any link to such a terrible man they might view you as an associate, and someone deserving of death for something you hadn’t asked for.

The workings of fate seemed strange to you. Was it not enough punishment to be born blind? Why would you also be paired with a monster who seemed to view the human race with general disdain? You were certain he cared little for love, his servant had made that clear when you were in his body, so any hopes of having a soulmate had been stolen from you as a result of this pairing.

Part of you wondered if a man so vile as him might even take things a step further and track you down to put an end to your life, insulted by fate to suggest that it could control him in any capacity. Perhaps he would be further insulted to be paired with someone so damaged rather than some untarnished beauty.

You’d always heard he held great hatred for weakness.

Even so, despite your fear and desire to conceal yourself from him, you couldn’t forget him, couldn’t stop the flicker of longing in your chest you were certain all people held for their destined lovers. Because while he was unquestionably a monster, with a throne of skulls you had witnessed through his very eyes, he also seemed to be more than that.

He was a man of great loneliness, living in grand halls with only a handful of servants for company - and all but one of them would scuttle out of the way when he approached. He seemed to hold a great love for art, with his estate packed with paintings and tapestries and great vases, all kept in pristine condition. For a cannibal, he seemed to take great pride in the cleanliness of his surroundings, in the neat nature of his gardens and springs.

Even in his own appearance, he seemed to take great care, for there was no denying him to be a handsome man even with his unique features. He had a voice to match that beauty, one that you could hardly peel from your mind any more than you could forget his image.

His body was hard to maneuver, too big and confusing to control his many hanging limbs. In a way, it felt akin to your blindness, something different to the way humans were built to be, leaving him to struggle with an issue that no one else could relate to. You wondered how it had been for him in childhood - if he’d felt as isolated and scared as you had to know that everyone else was normal in a way you’d never been.

You pitied him, even through all his sins. You felt you could understand at least a piece of him from a day buried within the confines of his skin.

But still, you would never reach for him - wouldn’t poke the bear even if you could understand why it might bite. You were certain that someone like him would be unwilling to hear you out, unwilling to love or reflect on how he became the way he was - he would swipe your head from your shoulders just like everyone else, and that would be that.

So you would stay away, keep your dreams of him locked deep within your chest, and accept that distance was for the best.

There was more to life than soulmates.

Unfortunately, that choice wasn’t yours alone to make.

The madame had knocked on your door early that morning, with the golden light of the sun only just starting to peek in through your window. Lately you’d been having longer lie-ins and taking less clients as the cold of winter gripped the region. Along with the blindness, you’d been born with a particularly feeble body as a result of complications with your mother during her pregnancy, ailments which were always worse for you in the colder months.

Your bones strained as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position, calling for the woman to enter. As much as you longed to slip back into your dream of red eyes peering back at you with fiery desire, you were still beholden to the will of your employer, even in your months of weakness.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked, as she slipped in through the door. You felt her weight dip the bed as she took a seat beside you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Mornings are always the worst but I can manage once I’m up and about. Has Sugawara come calling again?” Most regulars were understanding enough of your condition, and those that weren’t would generally be chased off by the madame or unloaded onto another of the courtesans. Sugawara was one of the few that generally wouldn’t accept such treatment, with only eyes for you.

It didn’t matter too much since the man only ever wanted to play shogi, and that was manageable enough even on your worst days. It seemed that he had no intention of laying with you until he’d beat you in a game fair and square, claiming that if that ever happened he’d buy you out and take you home for he would’ve earned your heart.

That talk always made you uncomfortable, for you had little interest in the man, but you were more than certain he had no chance at ever defeating you at shogi, and could therefore never lay claim to you - assuming he kept his word.

“Not Sugawara…” There was hesitation in her voice. “We’ve received a request for our finest shogi player to be sent to the mayor’s home this evening. Apparently the other courtesan houses have received the same request.”

“I didn’t think the mayor cared much for shogi.”

Again, there was a moment of silence. “No, he doesn’t. A rather unwanted guest has taken up residence in his home, and this is the demand that has come of it.” Immediately your blood ran cold, thoughts drifting away from the madame’s continuing chatter to the red eyes that sat so prominently in the darkness of your mind.

There was no question in your mind as to who this guest was.

And to call for shogi players had you certain he was looking for you. Would he execute you when you walked into a room so clearly lacking in vision? Put an immediate end to the one person who could potentially stir his cold heart if fate were to be believed?

It seemed like the only reasonable explanation

The request to send another in your place died on the tip of your tongue as you once again tuned in to what the madame was saying. “...make sure you’re in top form, I’ve heard any who lose to him are immediately disposed of, but I’m sure that man will be no match for you.”

You wouldn’t send another to face their death. You were the only courtesan in the house who was any good at shogi, anyone else would certainly perish. This was a meeting dictated by fate and you had no opportunity to run from it. You would face him head on and deal with your death graciously, greet your end alone in the dark just like everything else you’d ever faced.

“I’ll do my best,” you said to the madame, and that was the final moment you had for yourself, your sacrifice sealed by your words.

The rest of the morning was spent in a frenzied rush, dressing you up and perfecting your makeup, turning you into a sparkling beauty ahead of your presentation to a monster. Based on the quiet nature of your handmaid, the experience felt more like she was dressing your corpse for burial.

Neither of you spoke such a thing aloud, but tears dripped from sightless eyes all the same when she led you out to the carriage, the madam trailing behind her, sending you off with a soft farewell filled with a sense of finality.

—

Sukuna had undergone an annoying few months.

Steadily, he had made his way, region by region, up to the north of Japan in search of a blind shogi player whose skill allegedly eclipsed his own. In each area, he would call upon all shogi-playing courtesans to meet with him and join him in a game, in the hopes that one day it would be you sitting across from him.

So far, he’d been unsuccessful, and had left a growing pile of bodies and burnt villages in his wake, utterly irritated that the thing he was seeking still evaded his grasp. No one had beaten him. A few had come close but none of them had been blind, so he could be certain that they weren’t you.

He was beginning to wonder if you’d gone into hiding somewhere, forsaking your courtesan life entirely in a bid to avoid him. It wouldn’t surprise him - you’d been in his body, you’d seen he was a monster, a fragile little thing like you was probably terrified at the idea of ever crossing his path.

Either way, he’d still persevere. He’d kill every shogi player if that was what it took to get to you.

He’d recently found his way into the mountainous region of Miyagi, where winter was in full spring. Taking up residence in the mayor’s home in one of the more populous towns in the prefecture, he once again started his usual process of gathering the shogi players. Word spread fast and droves of them appeared swiftly, waiting to be called before him.

It went much as usual, with boring girls presenting themselves before him and providing him with equally boring games of shogi. These people were painfully predictable with no appreciation for the art of the game - really it was a gift for him to steal their lives from them, because he couldn’t imagine living while being so pitifully unskilled.

The pool of Miyagi courtesans was gradually running dry and Sukuna was preparing himself for another disappointing journey further north when his luck finally shifted.

He knew he’d found you the moment you walked in through the door.

You’d stumbled in meekly, eyes averted down to the floor as you bowed low and shuffled towards the centre of the room. You were taking care not to raise your head for him to look upon, and he quickly realised you were making your best effort to conceal your blindness from him, like you could keep your identity secret that way.

It was a futile attempt, for the very atmosphere around you felt charged, his heart picking up inexplicably at the very sight of you.

To say you were beautiful was an understatement. Everything about you was gorgeous, from your soft hair to the striking intensity of your unseeing eyes. You wore the finest silks and they hung off you well, complimenting your figure. He found himself eager to touch you, to rid you off your lovely gown and have his fingers against your smooth skin.

But that wasn’t the reason he had come, and he would play you before entertaining any other matter.

“Sit,” he ordered, taking great amusement in the shiver that seemed to run through you at the sound of his voice.

You dropped to your knees on the cushion before the board, hands pressing against the edge of the table. It was the first chance he got to take a proper look at your eyes, expecting them to be clouded over, but taken aback by the lovely colour your irises still held beneath that mist.

“You’re blind.” He observed aloud, taking note of the way your teeth caught your lower lip anxiously.

“I see more than enough,” your response was guarded.

He hummed, a sly grin settling on his face. Idly, he wondered if you could sense it, because you seemed to tense up a little, fidgeting across from him in a way his traitorous brain seemed to register as endearing. “Is that so? Do you see enough to know my strategy before we commence? Or will you disappoint me like the others?”

“You tell me.”

Your words had his heart stirring against his will, impressed by your serenity before him, still sitting up straight and calm despite the fear he could sense within you. You were a woman who held confidence despite it all, harboured strength even in the face of your obvious weaknesses. He wondered what you were thinking, if you believed he was there to execute you for the mere transgression of being his soulmate.

It wasn’t a foolish assumption.

He would kill you without a second thought if you were uninteresting to him.

But he’d reserve that judgement until after you had played. He had been promised someone exceptional and that was what he wished to see, anything less and your blood would stain the floor just like every other woman who had sat before him. Would you still be so calm if you could see the bodies littering the room? He assumed not.

He wondered if you hated him, if you cursed fate itself to be paired with a man like him. Nothing about you gave anything away, all your focus fixed on the board in front of you, your hands moving steadily against the wood of the board, as if centring yourself.

“Shall we begin?” He asked.

“Yes.”

Sukuna couldn’t quite comprehend what had transpired in that first game he played against you.

He had approached things in much the same manner that he always would when playing shogi - opening strong and attempting to completely overwhelm his opponent, and yet somehow he found opportunities snatched from him at every turn.

Nothing seemed to catch you off guard. Any attempted play was greeted with an easy answer from you, as though you were battling a child. You were always three steps ahead of him, never hesitating in the shifting of a piece, moving with a certainty that had him transfixed.

He found that he couldn’t draw his eyes away from you, his struggle on the board forgotten at the realisation he’d been well and truly defeated. There was no point in struggling further - you had swatted him aside in the way that he usually defeated others, and you had done it with no glee or brag, nothing more than passive indifference once the games finally came to an end.

Your shoulders were raised, as if awaiting something you wouldn’t be able to see coming. A strike from him, perhaps? Or the neat removal of your head from your shoulders? The same fate of all others he’d played across the last few months.

But he wasn’t in the position to do anything at that moment, lashes fluttering as he stared at you, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

There had been no lie told about your skill - on the contrary, you had exceeded his expectations spectacularly. He wanted to play you again and again, wanted to witness the beauty of the way you played, wished to spend hours lost deep in thought considering how he could even begin to pick you apart in a match.

He could spend years sitting across you, gazing upon your lovely form while you worked away in silence with such unquestionable mastery.

No wonder Sugawara had been disappointed in Sukuna’s ability. He couldn’t hold a candle to what you were.

“How?” He asked, unable to think of another word to offer.

Your head was still lowered, eyes fixed elsewhere. He wished you’d look at him, allow him a clearer view of your face, but it occurred to him that such a request may not be easily granted with your lack of vision. You would never be able to lock eyes with each other - it would be something entirely meaningless for you.

“You aren’t all that good,” you spoke softly, a smile playing on your lips.

Sukuna disagreed with your sentiment, considering he’d never been beaten before, but perhaps you’d consider all his previous opponents to be genuinely pitiful at the game.

“So, will you take my life now? Or is that reserved for the losers?” You asked.

“To take the life of someone I could not best would be cowardly and pointless,” he said with a snort. “How would I ever grow to be better than you if I extinguished you from the world? Don’t be foolish. We will play again.”

And again you played.

Game after game until the sun began to rise in the sky, and Sukuna could sense exhaustion drifting through your fragile form. You were shivering from the cold, and he had Uraume bring in a robe to wrap around you, keenly aware of how sickly you seemed to look beneath all the beauty. You were setting up the board for your tenth match when Sukuna finally put an end to things.

“Enough. I would take no joy in defeating an exhausted opponent.” He rose to his feet, stretching as he moved. He wasn’t keen on remaining still for long periods of time, but you seemed accustomed to it, staying deathly still upon your cushion, uncertainty evident in your posture.

“Then, you will send me to my home?” You asked.

“No.” The word escaped him before he could stop it.

He did not wish for you to go anywhere, lest you slip from his grasp never to be found again. It was because he wanted to play you more, that’s what he told himself, but there was more to it than that, and in his soul he knew it.

He never wanted the image of you on your knees before him to slip away, never wanted to lose the pleasurable feeling of warmth that swelled in his chest with you there within his gaze.

“You’ll accompany me to my home, and we’ll play until I’m satisfied.”

—

Weeks had passed since you’d arrived at Sukuna’s estate in the Hida Mountains.

You’d been given no time to bid goodbye to the women at the only home you’d ever known, swept off in a carriage down south where you had to relearn your surroundings in a totally new environment.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d been in the estate, but that experience made little impact on the ease of traversing around with no vision. You had to move slowly, fingers brushing on blurry objects shadowed in the darkness, hoping you didn’t trip over something or walk into a screen door.

For the most part, you were left to your own devices. Sukuna had spoken little to you on the journey home, opting to ride on his horse rather than in the carriage with you, and he’d been equally elusive in his own estate, leaving you in isolation for days at a time.

You couldn’t complain, for your days were spent in peace and serenity.

You would take long walks in the breeze of his garden, have his servants read aloud to you, and practice playing the erhu. On days where it was particularly cold and the chill seeped into your bones, you would remain in the grand bed he had provided and find greater comfort than you ever had in the old bed you’d laid upon in the courtesan house.

The only obligation you ever had to fulfill were shogi games. And during the times that he wasn’t absent from the estate, those would take place every evening, in Sukuna’s own private quarters.

It was an odd decision, considering that the servants played shogi out in the garden, where a proper table was set up for that purpose. But it seemed that Sukuna took care in ensuring your meetings were private - a decision you didn’t dare read into too deeply.

You didn’t dare read into any of his behaviour too deeply, lest you rip your own heart from your chest.

That first meeting with him had been like nothing you’d ever experienced - genuine desire overcoming you at the deep tone of his voice. Even knowing that he could cause your death with little effort, you couldn’t bury the lust within you, a fire that only burned stronger with each encounter with him.

It was hard to hold it together, to pretend that you wouldn’t fling yourself into his arms given the chance, but you tried all the same, keeping yourself distant and cold, like you didn’t dream of him between your legs each night, imagining the sound of his voice whispering sweet nothings against your ear.

Whether he felt the effect to the same extent you did, you weren’t sure. You were certain you’d never know. His interest in you was surrounding shogi, and shogi alone.

One evening, you were sitting across from him having played a handful of games, finding victory had fallen into your hands even more easily than normal. Sukuna seemed distracted by something, the sound of fidgeting settling in your ears. He hadn’t moved to start a new game, and based on the shadowy shapes in your vision, you could only assume he was leaning forward upon the table, bringing him close enough for his breath to fan your face.

“I killed today,” he said. Those were the first words he’d spoken to you that evening - you always followed his example with conversation, if he was feeling chatty you would indulge him, if he wished for silence you would give him that too.

You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with that statement, nor were you certain what type of response he was seeking, so you offered him a hum of acknowledgement and little more. You didn’t wish to think of the death that stained his hands, but nor did it build your animosity towards him.

To some extent you could understand lashing out at the world when you were someone so desperately lonely as he was. Part of you believed that if you hadn’t been so frail perhaps you’d lash out at the world for your own condition. His primary servant had told you he’d been despised throughout his life, and when you find only cruelty in humans it's difficult to cling to kindness.

Sukuna wasn’t so simple as a mere monster. You’d understood that in the day you’d spent in his body, and had only further confirmed it by the intelligence he displayed when you’d speak over games of shogi. He had a great admiration for art and skill, and had seemed rather taken when you’d recited poetry, responding with verses of his own.

He was a multi-faceted man, and much of what you saw only seemed to further your attraction to him, even knowing it was wrong, even knowing you’d be hated for it. For once, you felt you’d found someone who understood what it was like to be you, to be cut off from the easy lives lived by most others.

A soul that entwined so perfectly with yours, even if he’d never be aware of such a thing.

“Do you wish to know who I killed?” He asked.

“I know few people, my lord. I doubt a name would mean anything to me.”

“This one might. I’ve heard you’re familiar with Officer Sugawara? He’s one of the Shogun’s men?”

Thoughts of your regular flickered through your mind. If you were being honest with yourself, you were glad to not have to see him anymore - him or any of the other clients you’d been forced to take. Courtesan life had been difficult for you, forced into it thanks to the conditions of your birth and kept there by a disability that made it hard to escape the life for something better.

Life in Sukuna’s estate had been easier, especially as the weeks passed and you grew more comfortable in the belief that Sukuna wasn't going to steal your life from you. You’d lived in fear of Sugawara buying you out, of being forced to live like some doll in the house of a terribly boring man whose voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to your ears.

“I know him.”

“Knew him, would be more apt. His body lies at the foot of the mountain.” Sukuna spoke matter-of-factly. “He came to claim you from me. I refused and we couldn’t reach an amicable agreement, so I dealt with it another way.”

You weren’t sure how to react, struggling to process the words. That Sugawara would follow you down to Hida already came as a surprise, you hadn’t known how deep his devotion ran. But somehow, you found yourself rather taken by Sukuna’s decision, by the certainty in his choice to keep you.

To kill a man whose death could cause him issues with the Shogun might as well have been an outright confession of love.

Sugawara’s death meant little to you. Men like that died all the time, and they saw women as little more than pretty objects to own. Sugawara had seen you as an impressive party trick, a clever cat rather than a human with depth and desires of her own. You hadn’t wanted to be his, wouldn’t have liked for Sukuna to surrender you to him.

“Are you irritated with me? When I controlled your body you seemed repulsed at his presence. Perhaps you have a heart too soft for blood and death.”

“No- I-” You hesitated. “Did you do this to protect me?”

There was silence for a moment, and you longed to see his facial expression, but were forced to settle for the hint of confusion in his tone. “Of course. I’ve protected you since bringing you here. You can hardly protect yourself.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be offended - he’d been in your body, he knew of your frailty better than anyone.

“Why? Just because you enjoy shogi so much?”

“Somewhat. Though I must confess, lately I have been losing interest in the game. I feel I’ve come up against an insurmountable wall.” Panic filled you immediately, mind running at a million miles a minute as you analysed his statement. If he was growing bored of playing would he cast you aside? What use did he have for you if not shogi?

But then again, why would he kill Sugawara if he was moments from disposing of you?

“Perhaps it is the fault of my own discipline, for I’ve found it hard to focus on the game for quite some time now.” He hesitated, and you found yourself flinching at the feeling of a soft hand caressing your cheek, leaning into it once you overcame the initial shock of touch. “It is difficult when you have a beautiful woman sitting across from you. It’s even harder when my soul calls for you whenever you're near, drowning out any thoughts I might gather of strategy.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure what to say, wondering if you should pinch yourself, for many of your dreams centred themselves around such a confession. But the touch had never felt so real before, large fingers brushing against the soft skin of your face.

“I wonder if I’d be more focussed if I admitted fate might make some sense after all. I have never denied myself anything before now, and I’m tired of denying myself you. You have captivated me thoroughly, and I believe the hole in my chest was carved out to allow you to one day settle there.”

The words were by far the most romantic statement anyone had ever uttered to you. In your time as a courtesan you’d heard plenty of cheesy and affectionate lines, ones you’d brush off and forget by the time the client was done with you. Sukuna’s words would burrow into your heart and remain there for as long as you drew breath.

Could anyone fault you for loving a monster who would speak such beauty to you? Could you be hated for finding one who had been cursed by the world just like you had?

“I have no care for the Shogun’s men,” Sukuna continued, “in my eyes they are little more than flies most of the time, an annoying thing to be ignored unless they brush too close. Would it amuse you to know I killed Sugawara out of jealousy? To hear that my chest tightened at the idea of you being taken from my side?”

“Because you enjoy having such a capable rival in intelligence?” You asked, a wry smile creeping onto your face.

“Because I enjoy you.”

It was clear he was waiting for you to say something. The words that had poured from his mouth were unlike any he’d spoken before, and although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the sense of restlessness that gripped his body.

You would not leave him in uncertainty.

“I have only ever seen the world through your eyes,” you confessed shyly, “the only face I see in the endless darkness is yours, and I dream of it every night.” Sukuna’s fingers twitched against your face. “If you’ll have me, I am yours.”

“Even though I’m a monster?” He asked. There was no remorse in his tone, nothing to suggest that he was pained over who he was, it was just an honest question for you to answer as you wished. “You were scared of me when we met. I know you hid yourself from me after discovering our connection, eager to ensure our paths would never cross.”

“Because I believed you would kill me. I thought you to be a man who would stamp out any notion of love and eliminate me along with it.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, failing to deny your statement. You knew it to be true - if you had lost your shogi game on that first meeting, he would’ve done exactly that. It was in his nature to love only that which piqued his interest.

“Especially to be paired with someone so weak, I thought you would consider it an insult.”

He scoffed. “You are far from weak, I’ve found it impossible to best you.”

“I meant physically,” your voice went small. “I did not imagine the King of Curses would favour a sightless woman, nor one so easily broken.”

He was silent for a moment, seemingly processing your words. “I was small and frail once. Perhaps frailer than you. I wish someone had valued me then for my other virtues. I’m big enough and sharp enough to make up for your failings and you are clever enough to cover mine.”

Your mind was reeling at the idea of him admitting to having failings. Your heart stirring at his affection, and his easy desire despite your condition.

“I had not imagined a soulmate to be so well suited to me, for my tangles with fate have always been cruel,” he said. “But you’re something different, something I need at my side, and I will be your eyes, your protector, whatever it is you want in order to keep you there.”

“Oh.” You were positively blushing, whole body trembling beneath the weight of lovely words spoken in that deep voice of his.

Your soulmate wanted you.

A man hated by the world and filled with hatred in return had a space carved out for you, a space for love you hadn’t known him capable of.

You’d loved him from the first time you’d met him, drawn to him by an inexplicable force which seemed to grip him just as hard.

Soulmates really were wonderful.

Silence had settled between the two of you, only broken as the table screeched across the floor, the barrier between you removed. Sukuna shifted forward and an arm came to rest around your smaller body, pulling you towards him. His lips pressed against yours in a kiss you could only describe as sweet.

He didn’t dominate you in the manner you believed a man like him would, instead he took his time, mapping out your lips and drawing you closer to him, letting you bathe in the warmth of his body against yours. It was almost like he was trying not to scare you, aware that you couldn’t see anything he was doing and trying to move slowly as a result.

You wouldn’t have minded either way, your fingers clinging to the biceps of his upper arms, desperate for more of a touch you’d only ever dreamed of.

People always said that to finally touch your soulmate was a euphoria like nothing else, and you truly believed them to be right. Your head felt like it was swimming, chest swelling as if Sukuna’s own soul had wriggled beneath your skin to intertwine with your own.

It was a little overwhelming.

“How I long for you,” he murmured against your ear, breaking the kiss. “I was foolish to have not had you the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve ached for your touch longer than I care to admit.”

His fingers moved down to your robes, and your breath hitched at the touch. You were no stranger to sex, your job had required it, but the feeling as he undressed you wasn’t like any previous encounter you’d had. What regulars thought of your body was insignificant to you, sex was nothing special with them, just something you had to do if you wished to make a living wage.

This was the first time you’d ever been touched for free by someone you desired, and you felt suddenly nervous at your frail body being judged beneath his crimson gaze - especially when you couldn’t look upon him in the same moment. There was no distraction in the darkness to keep you from worrying about how his gaze might burn through you, imagining discontent on his handsome face.

A cold chill caught you once your robes fell, leaving you kneeling and exposed in front of him. A soft breath fell from his lips, fingers moving delicately from your shoulders down to your breasts, as if checking you were truly real and there before him. More heat flooded you as his finger brushed over your peaked nipple.

“Beautiful. If I didn’t despise the idea of sharing you with another I would paint you like this. Your body is worthy of that reverence.”

“I think my mind is probably more splendid.” You confessed. You had no eyes for awareness of your appearance, and had subsequently never really relied on it. People had said you were lovely, but you could never quite believe it, assuming that they were taking pity on you for your blindness.

“Your mind is exceptional. If I cannot beat you at shogi soon I have half a mind to ask you to assist me with real life strategy,” he said with a chuckle, fingers still trailing a slow path down your body. “But it doesn’t make your body any less lovely, and you cannot deny such things since you’ve never seen yourself. Let me be your eyes and tell you that you are breathtaking.”

A shyness overcame you at those words, head angled downwards as if it would hide your blushing state from him. He raised your chin with a finger, his nose bumping yours before capturing your mouth in a kiss once more, bringing you close against his bare chest. You were so lost in the comfort of the kiss, that you found yourself completely caught off guard when something wet swiped against your stomach and breasts.

Flinching in surprise, you drew yourself back in an attempt to understand what was happening. Sukuna laughed, a hand moving into your hair comfortingly. “It's my tongue,” he spoke easily.

Frowning, you found that his answer didn’t make sense, because still the wet appendage explored your breasts, sending your heartrate flying as it flicked against your nipple with impressive accuracy. How could he be speaking but also doing that?

“There’s a mouth on my stomach. Perhaps you didn’t notice when you controlled my body.”

You were ashamed to admit you hadn’t noticed such a thing. Sukuna had been naked when you’d awoken in his body, and you’d been quick to dress him up in robes, feeling rude to intrude upon the body of another without consent. You’d very intentionally not paid too much attention to the workings of his body, not when the first thing you’d seen was the oddity he sported between his legs.

The memory that he had two of what most men only had one, suddenly had you feeling a little nervous in your position. You had no time to voice such nervousness before he was picking you up, allowing his second tongue to continue its onslaught while he carried you over to the bed, depositing you down upon the silk.

His weight moved on top of you, and he swallowed a gasp with his lips as his monstrous tongue shifted its attention from your breasts down to between your legs, dexterously finding a path between your things and lathering your pussy with attention while Sukuna consumed your mouth. Tears pricked in your eyes at the sensation, unaccustomed to a feeling like that.

In all your years as a courtesan, you’d never been eaten out. Men didn’t come to brothels to serve women, they came to have their own needs attended to, and you’d done that in whichever manner they desired. You were grateful to have never experienced that feeling before, because it was a blessing to have Sukuna be your first.

Pressure built in your stomach over a series of minutes, overwhelmed by the way he seemed to be everywhere. A tongue between your lips, another between your thighs, hands squeezing your breasts, tweaking your nipples, more hands gripping your hips, pulling you up onto his secondary tongue to allow it a better angle to overwhelm you.

For the first time, you started to understand how Sukuna must feel whenever he played you at shogi - stumbling blindly in the dark whilst overcome from all angles with no means of knowing what was going to come next. It was pleasure in its highest form, and you were quick to cum with a yelp of his name, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.

Sukuna broke the kiss, breathing heavily against your ear. It was a sound you enjoyed, one you could listen to all day if he’d allow you. “I have imagined you beneath me like this every night this week,” he mused, “my imagination is hardly as pleasant as having the real thing. You taste much sweeter than my mind could conjure.”

Again, you were flushing red. “Y-you can taste me through…that?”

“Of course.” You were certain he was grinning, “And I’m glad that I can.” His secondary tongue was still moving slowly through your folds, lapping up the remnants of your first orgasm, teasingly flicking against your clit and making your shudder.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, breathing quietly together. You weren’t sure what Sukuna wanted to do next, but for a moment you were happy to savor the warmth of his heavy body, twitching while he lazily continued his attention to your body. How you longed to see him, eager to witness the expression he was wearing while he attended to you.

All you had to go off was the erratic beating of his heart where his chest was pressed against you.

“Let me have you,” he murmured against your ear. “Let me make you mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

“Is that so? Then let me make it official.”

He shifted atop you, withdrawing his secondary tongue. In the absence of that heat between your thighs, you grew suddenly aware of a heavy pressure against your leg. Your mind jumped to the image of his cocks that you’d filed away in the back of your mind, gut twisting at the thought of either one of them pressing into you.

Sukuna chuckled from above you, a hand coming to stroke your hair. “You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”

You nodded.

“I can tell, you’ve got that scared little look on your face. It’s fascinating, when you play shogi you’re unreadable, but outside of that? You’re practically an open book with your emotions always written across your face.”

Pouting, you let humiliation wash over you. Nobody had ever told you that before. It was hard to guard one's emotions when you had no measure of how the faces of others looked. That was something you’d have to work on. At least you had the good sense to give nothing away when you played shogi.

Another laugh echoed from his lips. “Even now I can see your panic. It’s very endearing.”

Any protest or response you had for him faded away into the recesses of your brain as he shuffled on top of you. He maneuvered you carefully into a new position, raising your legs and placing them up atop his broad shoulders. You were grateful for your flexibility in that moment, because the size difference between the two of you made that no easy task.

Sukuna was watching you from above while he positioned one of his cocks between your legs, running it steadily through your wet folds in a way that had you shivering with desire, still not fully recovered from the actions of his tongue. You were quick to discover that his focus was on his lower cock, as the upper one bumped pleasurably against your clit.

“You know,” he mused, stilling his movements. “I’m surprised you struck no deal with me. It is what I had imagined you would do.”

“What?”

“I’d assumed I would ask for more and you would refuse me. I’d thought your respect was tied to shogi, that you would refuse anything from me unless I was capable of beating you.” Your mind moved to Sugawara as you connected the dots. Sukuna believed you’d made that deal before, as if that tiresome Official hadn’t dictated those rules of his own choosing.

Shogi was a game you adored, mainly because it was an activity you could excel at even without sight, unlike many other courtesan pastimes such as painting, which would forever be an impossibility for you. But it was by no means something you made all your decisions on, nor were you particularly interested in the skill of others.

If someone could defeat you, you would congratulate them for their win and move on, it would ultimately mean little.

To you, it was little more than a game. To various men, it seemed to be something held in much higher regard - a true mark of intelligence rather than a game for which one could learn and remember strategies to allow them a win.

It mattered little to you whether Sukuna could defeat you or not. Your affection for him wasn’t tied to it in any manner.

“To make such a demand would be wasting my own time. Why would I turn down a man I desire over something so trivial? Besides, my bet with Sugawara was made to ensure I never had to lay with him, that is not the fate I want for us.”

“So you believe I am incapable of winning?” He asked, with greater disappointment than you’d been expecting.

“I do,” you said with a giggle, “just as I am incapable of emerging victorious in a battle. We all have our strengths.”

A yelp fell from you as he pushed the tip of his cock into you, catching you unawares. “Yeah?” He asked, pressing deeper into you, his fingers tangling tightly into your hair. “Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again - even in the midst of the dull pain of him driving into you, there was something so endearingly pathetic about his words.

“I am. But you’re free to challenge me whenever you like.”

He was silent as he bottomed out inside of you, his face falling to your neck and leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your skin while he allowed you some time to adjust. You were grateful for his consideration of your wellbeing, fingers digging into his skin, your gut aching as he leaned forwards over you, pushing your legs higher on his shoulders.

There was no question that he was the largest man you’d ever had inside you, practically tearing you apart with his intrusion, but after a few minutes of stillness you found yourself able to relax, the panic exhibited by your body slowly dissipating as you accommodated his size.

“I will challenge you whenever I like,” he whispered against your ear. “After this, the cloud of lust you’ve placed in my mind will be thinner, and I will beat you with ease.”

“Oh, I’m sure-”

Your snarky response was promptly cut off as he withdrew himself from you, only to swiftly fill you up once more, pulling a desperate cry of his name from your lips. There was no second adjustment period given, instead you found yourself clinging on for dear life as he filled you over and over again with swift and deep thrusts that had your eyes rolling back.

One of his hands moved to your stomach, pressing down against the bulge where his cock would press up inside you. It was clear he was fascinated by it, finding great enjoyment in you being claimed by him. You were certain he was no virgin, but it seemed that you were the first woman who meant something to him, the first one who was worth something beyond carnal pleasure.

Legs quivering beneath the weight of his thrusts, you appreciated the way two of his hands came to rest on your thighs, keeping you steady with each brutal snap of his hips. You were crying and whining, your hands blindly reaching for him but finding him just out of range in this position. Seemingly to appease you, he leant further forward, really testing the flexibility of your legs as he practically folded you in half.

Lips pressed against your forehead affectionately, and you enjoyed every single second of his attention, mind floating off on a cloud as your gut tightened with each careful stroke, your walls flexing around his cock. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, a feeling only heightened by the erratic contact of his higher cock rubbing up against your clit.

“You feel so good, fuck. I can’t last like this,” he grumbled, never losing pace. It stroked your ego to know of his desire, to understand just how much he’d been holding back since your first meeting. It was everything you imagined the joining of two soulmates would be - desperately euphoric and overflowing with pleasure.

Sex had never felt so good, it had never really felt good at all, and yet you could spend eternity with Sukuna buried inside of you, your bodies and souls joined just as they were always meant to be.

He was yours and you were his. It was just as fate had decreed.

There was nothing stopping the scream that ripped through you as you finally teetered over the edge, your body convulsing in pleasure and clamping down on Sukuna’s thick cock, eager to milk him for all he was worth. You were sobbing his name and writhing against the silk sheets, your hands gripping them desperately in an attempt to anchor yourself to something in the throes of pleasure.

Sukuna couldn’t hold on long after that either, spilling into you with a warmth that only heightened your pleasure. His other cock found its release at the same time, cum dripping down onto your stomach in a manner that you’d usually find disgusting, if it weren’t your soulmate who was doing it to you. He groaned your name quietly, and let your legs fall from his shoulders.

Without the barrier of your thighs, he settled himself down on top of you, pressing kisses all over your face, his cock still twitching inside your exhausted pussy. You let him lather you with affection, still trying to come to terms with this side of Sukuna. It had been what you’d wanted, what you believed he was capable of, but you hadn’t dreamed it would truly happen.

The most you believed you’d get from him was a lifetime of shogi matches, in which the two of you would remain close but never cross the line you’d been so desperate to leap across.

“Has the fog of lust lifted?” You teased. “Do you believe now you can defeat me?”

Sukuna let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Perhaps we will have to do that a few more times for it to fully ease.”

“Oh is that so?” You giggled, reaching out for his hair. He gripped your wrist and moved it into position, allowing you to play with the soft locks you’d been so eager to touch since the first time you’d seen them upon his head.

You wished you could gaze upon that lovely shade of pink once more, but it was enough to know he was there before you, yours to touch as you pleased.

“Mmm, I think it would help,” he purred.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

You’d give him whatever he wanted. You were his and he was yours for as long as he’d have you.

a/n: I had so much fun writing this one! thinking about doing one soulmate au for each of the jjk men because I find them so enjoyable to play with <3

anyway, for any crazy in love fans, the next chapter will be out towards the end of this week!

perma taglist: @calicatzz @suzunu @winkii @sukubusss @bobis-notmylover @tetsuski @torupilled @brattyxackerman @r0vena @chaos-4baby @moonlitreveri3 @feyrinnn @strawberryrosey @creamofsneky-blog @zeeseekay @p1nkfl0wers @apricityn @keiiiluv @dogggggggblog-kaye @duckie3801 @lav4mpira @seellove @cutesytwt @gojodickbig @yuujispinkhair @somos-things @yeagersss @paradisestarfishh @jennilynn63 @tthhaattgguuyy27 @bexxli @being-blue-is-better @tisuruxx @juliarchiv3s @dishs0pe @plutoxxxworld @5kkalara @serenadesvt @00frenchfries00 @warriorofenlightenment @scarlet-issilly @himbosexual @pousivuitton @ksjtozaki @certainfanpoetry @gojoscumslut @ynishalee @nakiich

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

now it was just plain awkward.

well, awkward-er.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s sage.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...no."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

suguru tilted his head, "is it working?"

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

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

not nearly enough bed-pouncing as you were expecting.

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

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

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

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

should you start moaning?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

peck. your collarbone.

peck. your tits.

peck. your navel.

peck. the waistband of your shorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he'd never been such at bliss before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“then by all means, go for it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

just one more time to confirm. you nodded.

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

“i want this, suguru, i’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

so goes the super suave geto suguru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“w-where do you hic want it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

holding you like he never quite wanted to let go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"am i wrong though?" you countered.

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

your mother claimed you’d come out the womb with a white coat on and a stethoscope in hand while your father would show off your awards, your medals, your trophies to whoever would listen about how brilliant his little girl was. teachers would vie against each other in hopes it’d be their classroom you’d step in, in their classroom that you’d excel and shine in.

you’d only just turned seven when you knew what you wanted to do with the rest of your life.

it was a simple career fair of all things, a way to show what kind of jobs kids could pursue in the future. firefighters, office workers, vets, and more showed up to talk about their experiences and answer all kinds of absurd questions about their profession.

like how dalmatians weren’t a complimentary perk of fire fighting. huh.

that wasn’t even the most interesting part. what really caught your attention had been the doctor that showed up. her display wasn’t nearly as showy as the other people that stood at the front of the classroom prior—there had been no flashy powerpoints with a transition on every slide to keep kids with an attention span on .3 seconds interested, no promise of a lollipop or a gift for listening in.

just a realistic figure of a brain and a dream.

“hello, everyone.” her voice enveloped the room in a warm, gentle embrace with each word she spoke. she wasn’t talking down to you, though. not like every adult tended to do. you already had a strong liking towards her. “i’m here to talk about my job as a doctor. i specialized as a neurologist at tokyo tech hospital and i’ve just started as an attending.”

most of the kids next to you stopped pretending to pay attention long ago—doodling some stick figure on the margin of their notebook or refining their version of an eye, or simply putting their head down in hopes that your teacher wouldn’t ask any questions afterward.

you, though, you leaned forward as far as your plastic seat would allow, back straight as a pin as you watched intently. “this part of the brain’s the cerebellum.” she points to the back of the brain, underneath the big walnut-looking thing you’ve now learned is the cerebrum. “it acts sort of as a little brain and it’s responsible for controlling your movements. most of the cases that i receive are actually either from trauma or a tumor, my most complicated one was actually five years ago…”

since then, you’d been determined in what you’ve wanted to pursue. there wasn’t any sense of self doubt, of waking up one day and realizing you’ve been chasing after a dream you no longer want to do. it started off quite simple—cutting up your stuffed animals and pretending to do surgery on them, stitching them back to health (and stabbing your fingers 3000 times in the process). all from simple surface sutures to re-stuffing nail-biting procedures.

throughout middle school, you started as many preparatory ap courses you could take, piling up more and more work onto your load until you’re eventually buried in books. pre-ap algebra, pre-ap history, pre-ap english, you were doing it all.

that workload only intensified during high school. while many of your classmates were enjoying their last couple teenage years, having the occasional party when someone’s parents were out of town— you were buried in sat prep books and collegeboard textbooks that weighed your backpack down by twenty pounds. reading through paragraph after paragraph of information until you could recite the passage in your sleep.

when you weren’t at school, you were either at the library or going out to volunteer with cleaning up a beach or helping out at a soup kitchen. getting more than the necessary hours to fulfill your requirements, padding your resume into making you the ideal candidate. signing up for whatever club still had openings available, making sure to run every fundraiser like the navy. you built yourself into a candidate colleges just simply couldn’t refuse.

as if that wasn’t enough, you did sports you never would’ve entertained under normal circumstances, joining groups you had a semblance of interest for to have something to list on your college application. stretching yourself out to fit into every slot you’ve signed up—to make it to every team meeting, every volunteering session, every tutoring session. exhaustion weighed heavily in your bones, dark circles practically engraved underneath your eyes.

tokyo tech’s prestigious, hard to get into if you weren’t legacy or had enough money to pad the university’s board. their university was essentially a feeder school into some of the best medical schools in the country, though. but you managed to get in, with a 4.5 gpa, a list of extracurriculars trailing almost a mile long, and a hefty stack of recommendations (after begging for months).

there was nothing in your way to getting into medical school. if you were determined in high school, you were much more determined now. practically living in and out of your school’s café, fueled by caffeine and spite to go through whatever mcat prep book you could find and still get your assignments done at least three weeks prior to the due date. reading through teacher introductions and sucking up as much as you needed to, as much as was required to get you recognized in a sea of over 300+ students.

and yet, all of the work you’ve done seems to be naught when your intro to neuro professor’s keen on destroying that goal. you’re certain of it.

—

“good afternoon class.” the class falls silent upon dr. yaga’s arrival, a couple students managing to trickle in as inconspicuously as possible before he shut and locked the door. there was no room for tardiness, no room for any bullshit in his class. many had dropped out before he’d even finished going through the syllabus first day of class.

“have you ever wanted to meet hellen keller? because if so, take this class and meet her for yourself. you will not be heard, seen, nor will your professor communicate with you. he does not answer questions well, and when he does it's with sass and annoyance. tough grader and doesn't help at all with exams or finals, you are on your own,” said one student on rateonmyprofessor.

another one left a stellar one star review, “i never wore my seatbelt while driving to school because i wanted to die before making it to his class.”

his footsteps echoed through the auditorium, each one purposeful and determined. the promethium sparks to life, this week’s powerpoint up on the screen. “we will be working on a group project—” a chorus of groans erupts from the back, though a stern glare from dr. yaga has them quickly shutting up.

you’re not much of a fan either. people usually take too long to organize, to figure out what they want to do, just to end up doing a half assed attempt of what’s supposed to be their part of the project. or they usually make you feel like you’re intruding when you do go to ask to be a part the rare time you feel a surge of confidence.

needless to say, you’re already dreading it.

“i will be selecting your partners for this assignment and it involves studying injuries to the brain and how it affects each function. for example, concussions, contusions, strokes, inflammation, each one of your groups will be responsible for choosing one and what part you want to focus on.

“you have a month to work on this assignment before you have to present. i don’t care how you divide the work amongst yourselves, i need everyone to work equally on the project though.” hands shot up immediately after he was done speaking, an exasperated sigh leaving your professor’s lips.

most of the questions are repeats of what he’s already stated, his annoyance clear with each one he has to answer. “alright, if that’s all, i will now be assigning you to your groups. there will be no changes done to this, so don’t bother asking.” the last line’s towards you, a pointed look shot in your direction. you merely shrug.

he starts off listing off names, the people in question already starting to move to their designed partner. chairs scrape against the floor, conversations are whispered while everyone’s slowly starting to get their space set up. your ears perk up at the mention of your name, leaned over against your desk to hear him clearly. there’s not many options left, but you hope it’s a decent one at the very least.

anyone but naoya zen’in at this rate. you’re not certain you’ll get to get summa cum laude at graduation inside of a prison cell.

“suguru geto.”

the pencil in your grasp snaps between your fingers, pieces of splintered wood splattering across your once pristine workspace.

—

you don’t have a reason to hate suguru geto.

not really.

he hasn’t done anything to personally offend you or your bloodline, hasn’t done anything but meet your competitive streak with a simple, calm smile. with an easiness you could only wish to achieve in this lifetime.

it was infuriating, nonetheless.

the way suguru geto never had to bury his face into a book, never had to study, never had to show up to class with anything other than a mechanical pencil and a pink eraser to achieve the same things you did.

everything came naturally to him.

photography? the rule of thirds was practically encoded into his dna, lighting and background perfect around his subject each and every time. breaking the rule came just as easily, the man capable of creating perfect symmetry without focusing too deeply on the subject.

biology? suguru geto didn’t need to show up to class unless he needed to do a quiz, mastering the function of each organ without needing to open up a textbook. finishing up two hour quizzes in twenty minutes, labeling the humerus, femur, radius, and ulna without a bit of hesitation.

making friends? he didn’t even have to try to engage in conversation, people just naturally gravitated towards him like planets to the sun. wanting to talk with him, wanting to listen to him, they all just wanted a chance to be able to be around his proximity. it was almost a cult-like following.

everything you needed to work on, that you needed to pour energy and effort into, he excelled in.

“okay, now go on and meet up with your group partner. exchange contact info, talk to one another, figure out what you want to do, all that.” professor yaga retreats from the podium over to his desk, taking a seat in front of his computer. the projector shuts off, leaving everyone to whisper amongst themselves.

you don’t stand up, slowly putting your stuff away. opening your backpack up at a snail’s pace, putting your laptop inside. suguru stands up from his spot at the top, quickly descending to the front. “hey.” he approaches your desk, taking a seat next to you.

geto inches closer to you, placing his laptop and notebook in front of him. in a sea of overwhelming axe body spray and dior sauvage, he’s calming. a velvety, warm aroma of sandalwood and bergamot makes itself known as he leans in, the scent lingering long after he’s pulled away. you hate yourself for how much you like it.

you clear your throat, forcing yourself to focus. there’s no need for introductions, no need to act friendly, “so i was thinking we could do the effects of stroke on the motor cortex and how it affects muscle movements,” you don’t hesitate in speaking up, watching as suguru already starts to type it up in a word document. at least he’s efficient.

“sounds good, you wanna meet up today?” geto looks up from his laptop, amethyst eyes meeting your own, “i know you’re busy and all. don’t want to intrude on your schedule.”

you were busy. you had to finish up studying for a stats quiz and finish up another project for orgo before this afternoon. but you suppose you could spare a few hours, if only for your grade. “we’ll meet up at the library at four pm. don’t be late.” you don’t give him a chance to respond, leaving right after the clock hit 12:30. he’s left scrambling to pick up his stuff while everyone else follows suit.

—

you’re already at the library by the time suguru geto steps in through the doors. sitting at the second floor on a table near the window, not enough for the sun to scorch your body, but just close enough where the space feels warm, that it feels like a blanket’s engulfed around your body. there’s a textbook in your hands, a notebook decorated in pink and blue highlighter next to you.

you almost look approachable from this distance, completely at ease in your element. lazily flipping through the pages, skimming through each paragraph before you’re annotating a couple notes down. suguru doesn’t go up just yet, taking the time to admire you from afar. how the sun he knows that as soon as he steps up, you’ll have your guard back up again.

the smell of caffeine makes you raise your head, looking over to see suguru placed a cup in front of you. “didn’t know which one you preferred so i settled for vanilla with three sugars,” he explains, taking a seat right in front of you. he's quick to take out his stuff, setting down his cup of tea next to him.

“thank… you.” your lips twist awkwardly as you force the words to come out, feeling a physical pain in your chest, even if they’re nothing more than a whisper. suguru seems to hear them all the same, giving you a curt nod. it’s disgusting, it’s humiliating, and it’s really fucking good??

bringing the cup to your lips, your taste buds are engulfed by the sweet taste of vanilla and creamer. it’s better than the coffee you’re used to from the watered down excuse from the student lounge.

suguru pretends not to notice the little pleased smile on your face, choosing instead to bask in it for as long as you’d allow him to. it’s the only time you’ve looked like you tolerated being here.

“are you capable enough of explaining the motor cortex while i take care of the research or do i have to do everything?” and just like that, your attitude returns. like you’ve suddenly remembered you’re supposed to hate him.

his eyes narrow as he meets your sudden glare, “i’m capable of doing the bare minimum, yes.” pulling out his notebook, you’re instantly drawn to the very detailed illustrations on his journal, his handwriting neat and precise. suguru skims through his notes on the primary motor cortex, long, slim fingers trailing behind the page with each word he reads.

nothing about him is sloppy, you’ve come to notice. his hair’s carefully tucked away from his face, his clothes are without creases, even his converse are miraculously clean. you force yourself to look away before he notices your lingering gaze, staring at your computer.

silence clung onto your quiet space of the library, only the sound of your taps against your keyboard echoing around the space. you’ve been scanning through abstracts for what seems to be an eternity, trying to find articles worth using in your project. the words start to mesh into one big times new roman blob.

the sun’s set by the time you’ve finished your session for the day, students trickling out the doors one by one. a few still linger on the tables, the sharp fluorescent from their computer screen only highlighting each and every one of their exhausted features.

rubbing a hand over your eyes, you’re forcing yourself to stay focused. to keep reading the paragraph in front of you—hemiparesis, studies show recovery after stroke is most effective in the first three to six months, neuroplasticity… “you want something to eat?” the question breaks you out of your stupor, looking up to see geto starting to pack up already.

he expects a protest at first, a why the hell would i endure more than necessary with you? and you’d thought about it—the idea of having to spend more time than necessary almost just as appealing as going through studying free-radical reactions again. but then again, you’d be stupid not to bank in on a chance to get free food, especially when you can hear your stomach growling in the silent halls of the library.

so to his surprise, you merely shrugged, “sure. i get to pick the place, though.”

—

suguru wholeheartedly expects you to drain his pockets, expects you to pick an expensive restaurant where reservations are a three month wait, where the menus don’t have the prices next to them, and chandeliers glisten overhead in dizzying glamour.

but you settle for a small ramen shop not to far off campus, tucked away in a corner. it’d be hard to miss if you weren’t looking for it. a bell chimes overhead upon your arrival, the rich scent of broth and vegetables permeating through the air with each step you took inside.

one of the shop owners stepped out from the back, approaching you with a tight embrace. “we’ve missed you around here. you don’t show your face too much anymore,” she jests with a small, wistful sigh. you’ve been neglecting coming over, often finding yourself too tired to make the walk over, resigned to cooking yourself cheap ramen.

she doesn’t seem to linger on it for too long—turning to look over at geto, a bright smile immediately taking over her features. she doesn’t hesitate in embracing him in the same tight hug, “ooh, you finally got yourself a boyfriend. he’s real handsome.”

the idea nearly makes you recoil in your spot. “he’s not my bo-”

“thank you onēsan,” geto’s quick to interrupt your previous protest, a shit eating grin on his face when you turn to look at him. if looks could kill, he’s certain he’d be six feet under right now. but, alas, you’re not that powerful (yet), so you simply follow behind the two over to a small booth in the back.

the lights are dimmed down, the shadows playing over each crevice of his face. it’s too warm, too intimate. “what would you like to order?” you don’t need to flip through the menu brochure, “i’ll get your tsukumi soba, please.”

geto spends a few seconds scanning through the menu, reading over one side before flipping it around. “your beef yakisoba, please.” she takes away your menus, retreating into the back to get the noodles started up. ambient music plays in the background, your fingers tapping against the table. it’s still for a minute, quiet.

he breaks the silence first, gesturing to the space around you, “so can i ask why you picked this place?”

you purse your lips, pretending to be deep in thought before uttering, “no, you cannot.”

“alright then.” geto’s not sure why he expected another response to you, why he expected that one dinner would be enough to change your mind about him.

you merely raise a brow, unimpressed. “do you give up so easily on your endeavors?”

“no,” he’s quick to defend, “i just don’t want to risk making you uncomfortable.”

you can’t believe you’re letting suguru know you on a more intimate level, already regretting the words before you’re even speaking. “i chose this place because the owner’s been kind to me—” he perks up like a puppy at the information, so much for being nonchalant (he couldn’t be even if he tried), “—i came here when i didn’t have anything other than five bucks to my name. and even though the business isn’t doing so well, she covered the rest for me that day.

“i haven’t been here in a while. but i like to come whenever i have a little extra money and i have the time to.” you don’t add your father had been nearly laid off from his position at the time of the incident, leaving you scrambling to figure out how to pay rent on time, much less worry about an actual meal. the old woman had extended a hand of kindness where you weren’t expecting any.

geto clears his throat, “thank you for letting me know this little slice of you. it’s nice knowing you as something other than the valedictorian with a grudge.” you let out a noncommittal hum in response, watching as the old woman walked over with your food. you were welcomed by the earthy scent of the noodles, the aroma wafting throughout the table.

you could feel your mouth start to water before she even finished putting the plates down. “enjoy,” she tells you both, once again leaving you completely alone. there’s no rush when it comes to eating for either of you, no sense of urgency to get out. you blow on your noodles, twisting them around your chopsticks before taking a bite.

“so, are they up to your palate?” why you were making conversation with geto, you didn’t know. but nevertheless, you couldn’t exactly take the words back once they’d left your lips.

“they are. better than what i’m used to.” you savor each drop that lands on your tongue, each bite of the egg yolk that you take. it’s just the right amount of runny, the taste melding in perfectly with the broth. geto makes a few comments here in between about how good the beef is, how the noodles taste, and for once, you don’t find yourself wanting to smash a keyboard over his head.

you even make a few remarks yourself, about the different kinds of noodles that the shop offered. like you were already planning out to come here with him again. the thought should’ve been unsettling, should’ve been straight of your worst nightmares, but it wasn’t all too bad.

geto doesn’t hesitate in leaving a hefty tip behind when the check comes, earning a bright smile from the old lady. it seems she approves of him.

“do you want me to walk you back home?” he speaks up once you make it out of the shop, lingering on the street. it’s dark outside and you still had a long way to walk back home—but it’s just what you need. being in close proximity with geto has messed with your head enough, made him seem tolerable for one afternoon.

“i’d rather take my chances getting kidnapped,” you retort, already starting to walk away. he doesn’t linger for too long, walking away in the opposite direction. the walk back home is brisk, only a few cars passing by on the street, a nice chill in the air. it doesn’t take long for you to reach your building,

you’re certain you see a figure swinging away from the same direction geto had just headed in. you amount it to exhaustion, to your mind playing tricks on you. stepping inside your apartment, you’re welcomed to complete darkness—both of your parents already off to bed.

following suit, you drop your backpack off on the floor and get changed into your pair of pajamas as quietly as you can. you’ve barely managed to get into bed, to snuggle underneath your warm blanket, when your phone buzzes.

a message from geto.

geto: i hope you didn’t get kidnapped on your way home. 

you: i’m sure that you’d be delighted to hear that, less competition for valedictorian after all. 

geto: fair point. but then i’d have to do this project all by myself :( 

you: i’m sure you’d be able to figure out if you rubbed your last two brain cells together

geto: i’m sure. good night. 

—

you don’t see much of geto throughout the week—not that you’ve had much time to give it any thought (is what you keep trying to convince yourself of). in between trying to study for quizzes, getting assignments done, and searching for internships in the summer, you haven’t had much time to breathe much less pay attention to your group member.

“good afternoon class. today we’ll be going over neural coding and the perception of sound, we’re on page 456.” the sound of fingers tapping against keys rings throughout the classroom—yours included, as you start typing out your notes for dr. yaga’s lecture. he starts talking about neuron frequency and parameters, studying an orientation tuning curve—the sound of his voice fading into the background once you take a look around the classroom.

suguru didn’t show up for today’s lecture, his seat taken up by a guy who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed five minutes ago. you should be glad—you don’t have to talk to him in the odd case yaga ends the class early. instead…you find yourself wondering just what exactly prompted his absence. wondering if he’s okay. your fingers inch towards your phone across the table, about to take hold before you remember—

you hate this guy. he’s probably fine and you don’t need him anyways—you could complete the project on your own accord. right? right. instead of thinking about geto any further than you had to, you picked back up on writing the lecture notes yaga was giving on mt tuning curves, on visual motion in different directions and rose plots.

your day ends in a blur of different powerpoint presentations, note taking, and about twenty different assignments due on friday at 11:59 with no exceptions. there’s still some time before you have to head back home, so you decide to head to the library. it’s quiet upon entering, the few students inside burrowed deep within a book or a last minute paper they don’t even have articles for yet. padding against the carpet, you take your seat at your usual place. second floor, table near the window.

suguru shows up at the library five minutes later, a grey hoodie pulled over his head. he looks rough, a splotchy purple bruise marking his right eye—roughly a day or two old if you had to guess, along with a nasty cut running across his cheek. he looks like he hasn’t slept in days—hair tousled up into a half-assed attempt at a bun and rings circling underneath his eyes. you almost wince at the sight.

“you look like you’ve been hit by a train.” suguru didn’t want to admit that he had, in fact, had to hold a train back on a shattered track. he pulled a seat across the table, a pained expression on his face and a hand clasped around his (very broken) ribs upon taking a seat. his backpack dropped to the floor in one ungraceful sweep, pins clattering against each other upon impact.

still, he tried to pretend like he wasn’t actively in pain. pulling his laptop out from his backpack, tapping quickly to open up the shared presentation you’d set up. you didn’t mention anything, neither did he. it wasn’t your place to. a quiet settled upon the table, each of you getting to work on your designated slides.

it only lasts for about ten minutes when,“what’d he go over during the lecture today?” he questioned, looking up from his laptop to meet your gaze.

“i’ll send the doc over once we’re done here, maybe you’ll even do better on the test with my notes in hand.” on another occasion, maybe he would’ve met your retort with another one of his own, would’ve tried to tease you back. but all he could manage was a weak laugh, “yeah, maybe.”

the next two hours are relatively quiet, if only for a few questions about formatting, about including an article shared in between whispers. suguru doesn’t look much better than when he first stepped foot into the door—hand still clutched around his ribs as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. “i don’t know what happened to you,” you start off, his attention diverted from packing up for the night, “but come over next time you’re hurt. i don’t have much but i can at least stitch you up. don’t really wanna get stuck doing your portion of the work when you’re half dead.”

suguru pushes his laptop inside his backpack before speaking, “right. you’ll be my nurse for the sake of your grade?”

“absolutely for the sake of my grade.” you hand him over a ripped piece of notebook paper with your address scribbled onto it, watching as he carefully tucks it away in the back of his phone.

“i’ll take you up on that, then.”

“good.” a breath you didn’t realize you were holding leaves your lips upon exiting the library, a relief filling your body. you convince yourself it’s the assurance of your gpa staying intact—it’s not. you couldn’t stand to see geto sit around in pain, hear his meek attempts to keep up with your banter and each strained breath he let out when he stood still for too long.

you worried about him. for the first time, you admitted to yourself feeling something other than petty hate towards him.

you: i hope you feel better. doesn’t feel the same being mean to you.

suguru: i’ll try. get home safe.

—

as begrudging as it becomes to admit, you slowly start to get comfortable to having suguru around. to having your designed meet up at the library every monday and wednesday at four, being greeted with a warm cup of coffee and a kind of patience a saint would be jealous of.

it’s ridiculous. suguru doesn’t stoop as low as to meet your biting remarks with one of his own. he simply treats it with a calm smile, with a, “yeah, i’ll get that done.” when you bite out an order to do something.

“you’re more capable than i gave you credit for,” you remark, opening up the powerpoint to find that he’d settled on picking a nice theme. he’d picked up on where you left off last night with ease—sorting out your scrambled mess of notes into something feasible.

it was weird having someone you didn’t have to constantly be explaining yourself to. weird, but nice.

“well, you set a high bar. i, at least, have to make the effort to be worthy of working with you,” he retorts, reaching over. a quiet laugh escapes you, a sound he wants to bottle up just so he knows he’s not imaging it.

“your efforts are greatly appreciated.” you’re not sure when’s the last time you’ve been such at ease working on a group project. maybe never. you’re usually too stressed out trying to pick up where everyone else is lacking. plugging your earbuds on, you get back to reading through an article on motor functions.

“you should send me that playlist. for motivational purposes, of course,” suguru speaks up when you’re finished for the night. amongst corny science memes (from his part) and photos of cats he’s found on the street, you send him your playlist. showing him a glimpse of your soul—or at least what you like to listen to.

of course, it’s in alphabetical order. he finds himself playing each song, carefully listening to each of the lyrics. wondering what your thoughts were when listening, how you related to each one. your mind was a complex cavern, one that he intended to explore fully.

and across the city, you find yourself thinking about every interaction you’ve been having with him lately. about how he’s changed his brand of pencils to pentel 0.5mm in case you’d ever ask for one, the way his touch makes you feel like your body’s been electrocuted, how he’s memorized your coffee order by now.

you’re thinking too much about it, aren’t you? definitely. no way in hell you’re starting to develop feelings for suguru geto. you hate him. you hate him. you hate him.

and yet, why can’t you convince yourself of the fact?

“you’re acting weird. you okay?” suguru doesn’t hesitate to call you out, noticing you’ve been all too quiet during your session today. no biting remarks, no jokes, just silence. at first, it was comforting. now it just seems unsettling.

you nearly jump out of your seat, having been staring at the same word—and—for the past five minutes. you clear your throat, nodding. “i’m alright.” he’s not convinced but he lets it go. maybe you’re just having a bad day. you’re grateful he doesn’t try to ask any more questions, but… you miss the conversation.

fuck, you’re screwed.

—

suguru: can’t show up to our library session tonight, try not to miss me too much ;)

you’re not sure why you almost feel…disappointed at the news, wondering if he’s off getting beat up like he did two weeks ago. but it’s not like you wanted him to see that you’d put in more effort into dressing up today—that you’d ditched your (very comfortable) hoodie and sweats for a pair of jeans and a nice blouse you’d gotten on a discount rack. that you’d put on a dab of mascara and tinted gloss.

absolutely not. you didn’t care.

with nothing else to do around campus, you decide to head back home. flipping the tv on, you quickly come to find out each news channel’s covering the same segment—a giant lizard terrorizing the city while spider-man swings from building to building before jumping into action.

the hero picks up a decent looking buick, the expensive car practically weightless in his arms, tossing it over. it pierces through the air like a bullet, cameramen at the scene quickly panning their cameras to the zooming vehicle going at what seems to be a hundred miles per hour. it lands.

and spider-man misses. tossing it a mile past the point where the lizard’s crawling up a building, the car crashing into nothing but a mess of glass and debris. police sirens speed closer to the scene of the crime, thick clouds of grey smoke from the impact clouding up the atmosphere.

that’d be your last straw, you think. coming out of a late shift only to find your car completely totaled into smithereens. without so much as having some kind of insurance it’d be covered under.

luckily, it’s not you.

with that thought, you shut your tv off. choosing instead to work on some assignments, to work on converting radon mass into mols, to filling out equations that had more symbols than numbers on it. the hours pour over slowly, sun fading away into the shadows as night takes over.

there’s a knock on your window. you live on the third floor, that’s enough to unsettle you as it is. no one could get up here without using the fire escape, and that seemed like too much of a hassle just to rob you. right? another knock followed after the first, forcing you to get up from your spot.

shoving the curtains to the side, you’re met with the sight of spider-man outside your window. his suit’s ripped and tattered, exposing slivers of a blood streaked gash running down his chest. his chest heaves with each ragged and hoarse breath that leaves his lungs, a sharp pain digging through his ribs.

he leans against your windowsill, clutching a hand tightly against his stomach. his other hand reaches up, swiping at the constricting mask concealing his identity. black hair falls in long waves once its freed from its confines, a face you’re too familiar with meeting your gaze.

suguru. he leans his head back, a smear of blood marking his cheek. he’s never looked as hot as he did now—bleeding out and groaning at your windowsill. “hey, nice to see you again,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, “room looks cozy.”

there’s about a million questions bubbling in your head. how’d he manage to go to school and be the city’s hero? how’d he deal with the burden placed on his shoulders? still, there’s no time for you to be surprised. you have to act quick before he loses any more blood.

easing him into your bed, you get out your suturing kit with 140 pieces inside. pulling on a pair of gloves, you’re quick to get out what you need. a nylon needle, a silk piece of thread, some alcohol pads, and an advil just in case. “why’d you come to me?” you bring yourself to ask, pulling away at the sopping latex fabric.

it falls to your bedroom floor with an unceremonious plop, blood smearing onto your hardwood floors. you’d clean it up later. for now, you focus on evaluating the wound. the slash cut deep enough where stitches were necessary, but it seemed straight forward for the most part.

“you’re the only one in our program i trust not to drive a needle through a vein and stab me half to death,” he responds after a bit, his breathing labored as your hands squish the wound together. trying to make some sense of the ragged edges you’re trying to line up, of where you needed to poke the needle through.

“high praise,” you murmur, blood seeping and dripping from the rag you were delicately rubbing against his skin. cleaning him up as gently as possible, trying to avoid hurting the gash any more than necessary. any more than you needed to before the next step.

silence settles over your room as you draw the needle through his skin, piercing just deep enough to ensure it’d be sealed properly. forcing your trembling hands to steady, you get to work. sliding the needle through his skin, tightening the thread against each edge of the gash with each knot you do. it’s not perfect—you know that much, but it’s enough for right now.

“are you okay?” you’re the first one to break the silence tonight, gently wiping away at the streaks of crimson marring his scarred skin. blood dribbles and pours from the gash, quiet winces leaving his lips when you happen to press too hard.

a disgruntled, frustrated sigh leaves his lips, “no. the lizard escaped from me at last minute and i have no idea how to start looking for him.” taking your gloves off, you’re now faced with an incredibly hard decision. figuring out what suguru was going to wear.

you’re sure he’s bound to get questions if he walks out in a spider-man costume, digging through your cabinets to find something. an old pair of sweats that’s been too big and an oversized shirt. that’s good enough. “thanks.” suguru takes the clothes from you, quickly sliding them on.

“i’m sure you’ll find him. you’re nothing if not persistent,” you reassure, swiping away at a hair that covered his face. lightly, you dragged a clean rag through his cheeks, wiping away ruby colored streaks in three swipes. his gaze goes to your lips, your breath catches in your throat.

you’re too close. you should pull away, should tell him to leave and go back to studying. instead, you lean into the kiss. slowly and tentatively pressing your lips against his own, one of your hands coming to rest on his shoulder.

bruised hands settle on your waist, tugging you closer against his body. his lips brush against yours with all the patience in the world, the taste of him intoxicating up close. nothing else—not the city of new york, not the lizard—mattered. his lips locked against yours like a missing puzzle piece, slotting against yours perfectly.

“is this why you’ve been acting weird towards me?” suguru breathes out when he pulls away, forehead resting against your own. the proximity, of being mere inches apart, has heat rising up your neck, up to your face. everywhere you turned, he was there.

“yes,” your response comes out as a breathless whisper, his fingers drawing small lines against your arms. there’s no rush to the moment, no rush into pulling yourselves apart. a shiver runs down your spine as his touch ghosts even higher, leaving you wanting more.

hinges creak against themselves as soon as your bedroom door’s swung open, your father standing in the doorway. his eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of suguru plopped down on your bed, the two of you too close for comfort. you quickly scooted away, putting on a few inches of distance.

it wasn’t enough to erase his intrigue. with an exasperated huff, he rubbed a hand over his temples, “do you want to tell me why there’s a guy over this late? and with your door closed?” not particularly, but you figured it wasn’t as much as a question as an accusation.

“he…uh…” oh no, you hesitated. your father’s brows merely furrowed while you scrambled to find any reasonable excuse to have suguru geto in your bed at 10 pm. c’mon think think think. he’s getting suspicious.

suguru can practically see the wheels turning in your head, his teeth biting down on his lip to keep himself from snickering. your eyes dart from one corner of your room to the next, to your bed, to your nightstand before you take hold of the shut laptop next to you, blurting out, “he came to work on our project!”

“out!” your father exclaims just as soon as you’ve finished trying to find an excuse, “project my ass, we use the front door in this house for those.” he storms off into the living room, presumably to continue to continue watching his late night soccer game.

suguru let out a quiet laugh, leaning over to press a small kiss on your forehead. it doesn’t feel like enough after your admission, feels too small. but, it’s what you’ll have to make do for now. “for someone so smart, you sure are a bad liar, pretty girl.”

you’re left alone again.

you can’t focus on your project. the blank screen on your monitor burnt into your retinas, blinking cursor on the screen taunting you with each second that passes.

you can’t sleep either. you’ve tried. tossed and turned from one side to the next, throwing your leg over one of your prized plushies to no avail. you try counting sheep, you try listening to calming asmr in attempts it’d still your racing mind. nothing works. frustration boils deep in your gut, your thighs rubbing against one another.

you don’t think about suguru as just the guy you once hated and are now starting to develop a crush on, but you see him as spider-man too. see the responsibility that he takes on to protect the city, to ensure that people feel just a little bit safer walking down the streets while keeping up with school. while still managing to get you your coffee every day without so much as a protest.

the more that you get to know about him, the more that you realize that you’ve already fallen for him. tonight—that kiss—had just cemented the fact, your mind lingering on how soft he’d been. how gentle and reverent he’d treated you, being patient without treating you like you couldn’t handle it.

with a resigned sigh, you slowly began to trail your fingers down your navel. dragging your fingertips against the sensitive flesh, picturing geto’s long, digits as your eyes flutter shut. imagining his soft, plush lips making their way down your body the same you are, with an amount of reverence and tenderness.

you don’t dip your fingers inside your cunt just yet, rubbing yourself through the thin material of your panties, sliding your fingertips against your clothed slit, slowly starting to drip through the thin material. your fingers move up, rubbing at your neglected clit in small little circles.

deep in the back of his mind, suguru knows he’s not supposed to intrude on such a private moment. and yet, he can’t bring himself to leave.

he can hear footsteps up to five miles away, can hear every whispered conversation, and yet all he can focus on is the way your breath picks up, the sound of your cunt squelching around the fingers. on your rapid heartbeat thumping against your chest, on the whisper of his name that you thought left your lips into the dead of night.

wait, what?

“oh, fuck, suguru.” a breathless whisper leaves your lips, his ears perking up underneath the mask. he can practically taste you on his tongue with how intense the scent penetrates through your bedroom walls. his cock throbs in the latex, precum smearing onto the costume. that’s enough to get him sliding the costume down to his mid thighs, leaving him nearly exposed.

anybody could look up and see the city’s hero jerking himself off on the side of a building. that should’ve been enough to stop him, to make him wait until he was in his room. but no, instead, he wraps his hand around his shaft, thumb smearing precum alllll the way down to the base.

you are all that consumes his thoughts, his very being.

pushing your panties to the side, you dip two fingers inside your cunt with a wet little shlickk. all the while picturing suguru’s thick fingers instead of your own, picturing how’d he finger you. he’d start slow—just to tease you. so you decide to slowly start pumping your fingers in and out, slick dripping down to your knuckles.

suguru starts off at the same pace you’re going, timing his own orgasm to your own. soul ties and the such. his fingers wrap tightly around his cock, fist slowly dragging uppp and downn the shaft. he rubs at his swollen cockhead, smearing precum over his fist and his dick.

“o-oh fuck,” a hushed moan leaves your lips, your fingers curling about a inch in. you’re hitting your g-spot with each thrust of your fingertips, back bowed into an arch. would he let you cum? maybe if he was feeling kind enough. you rub at your clit, pushing yourself to reach your peak only to let it slip through your fingers right at the precipice. 

when you do let yourself cum to the thought of it being on suguru’s fingers, of imagining him bringing them up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them and tasting you fully, you soak your fingers and sheets underneath with a shuddered little moan.

suguru isn’t faring well outside of your window either.

sweat dribbles down from his forehead, heavy load of cum covering his hand and stomach. he leans his head back, listening to your racing heartbeat slowly return back to normal. he wipes his hand off on the side of his costume, zipping it back up before reluctantly heading back home.

so much for hating him.

—

you avoid suguru geto completely after that.

it wasn’t that hard in the grand scheme of things. sure, you were both confined to the same building for most of the day, but you avoided taking any main hallways you were certain to find him in. avoided lingering in the lounge for too long, hiding away in the back stairwell and doing some assignments. it’s quite nice the few times you get lucky and there’s no one making out underneath.

and sure, you had a few classes together, but you avoid being in your usual spots. go up to sit in the back instead of the front, in one of the far right wings of the auditorium where even the professor’s surprised when they take attendance. you don’t linger too much after class either, immediately leaving upon dismissal with your head down.

but even then, you supposed you should’ve accounted for how to avoid him at your own home.

“do i have to keep showing up to your house all bruised and battered for you to spare your friendly neighborhood spider-man five minutes?” suguru pops his head in through your window, sliding his mask off once he was inside.

you raise a brow, leaning in closer to take a look at the ‘wound’ he’s whining and pouting about. it’s a simple cut across his cheek, already starting to heal from his enhanced abilities. “you came over for this?”

“yes. i’m dying, doc,” he deadpans much to your dismay. you gesture for him to take a seat on your bed, watching as he makes himself at home amongst your plushies. taking a hold of your kit, you stand in between his legs to clean up the cut.

that’s not good enough for suguru.

“what the—” his hands take hold of your waist, easing you down onto his lap. your thighs rest upon either side of his own, your ass pressed directly on top of his lap. moving forward slightly, you grind yourself against him, a quiet moan leaving your lips upon feeling the tip against your clit.

how very unprofessional of you.

you force yourself to stay focused, taking his face in your hand. purple eyes glimmer underneath the pale moonlight, meeting your gaze as your fingers brush against the ‘bruise.’ slowly, you dab on a little bit of antibiotic onto the cut before plastering on a hello kitty bandaid on his cheek. “perfect.”

neither one of you moves. suguru’s hands stay splayed against your waist, holding you tightly against his body. trying to keep you there as long as possible. you let him, your fingers ghosting across his face before you reluctantly pull your hand away.

this time, his hand cradles your cheek, “i haven’t been able to stop thinking about your lips since the last time i’ve seen you. thinking about kissing you again.” he didn’t kiss you like he had last time, gentle and patient, no, he kissed you like he was desperate (which he, admittedly, was).

your hips swivel as you grind yourself down on his hardening cock, feeling each ridge against your dripping cunt. heavy breaths leave your lips the faster you start moving against him, the more you feel his tip prodding into your clothed pussy. “this feel good?” he questions, his hands moving up your nightshirt. cupping your breasts in between his hands, rubbing his thumb around your nipples.

“y-yeah, feels good,” you nod, head thrown back and back arched. your nails dig into his shoulders, using that as leverage as you move yourself against him. his lips move down to your neck, leaving kiss after kiss as he trails his way down. he slides your shirt off, tossing it to one corner of your room.

“can i taste you, please?” you nod, expecting him to get down on his knees and get in between your legs. to start slowly kissing his way up your legs before making his way to your cunt. but no, you watch as he crawls up to your ceiling, sticking it it before hanging upside down.

a thin, white string’s clutched between his fingers, keeping him in position. suguru hangs off your roof with relative ease, onyx strands cascading onto your silk sheets. he leans forward, his free hand swiping at the slick dribbling from your puffy folds.

syrupy strings cling onto his gloved fingertips, tongue enveloping around the latex to taste every last drop. “need to taste all of you, spread out for me,” suguru uses his free hand to spread your legs apart, your ass up in the air as you settle into an arch, “there we go. just like that, princess.”

he delves in like a man starving, his tongue swiping across your slit, lapping up every drop of your essence. your fingers tightly wrap around your sheets, hips moving back to meet his eager mouth. he’s unabashed with each swipe, with each lick to your sopping pussy.

suguru takes one of your folds in his mouth, spit slobbering over the sensitive skin to mix with the syrupy slick dripping onto his tongue, starting to make out with your lower pair of lips. “fuck, you’re so good to me, wanna stay here,” he’s already pussydrunk, each babble leaving his lips like water.

while nothing about him is sloppy, the way that he’s making out with your pussy certainly is. he takes note of what makes your heart run faster, what makes you react to adjust what he does. no reaction you make goes unnoticed.

you gushed around his mouth and chin like a running faucet, your essence smeared all over his face. suguru slid his tongue in and outt of your cunt, his nose nudging against your sensitive clit with each push. “so, so good sugu,” you whined against him, eyes rolling back. each swipe of his tongue, the desperate way he ate you out, had you inching closer and closer to your orgasm.

“mm, i know, i know,” he coos, jaw falling slack as he buries his face in between your legs. he alternates between making out with your folds, tracing his tongue across each one, and thrusting his tongue in and out of your hole. suguru licks up a broad stripe up your cunt to your clit, the tip of his tongue drawing a small circle onto the nub.

blood rushes down to his head, almost making him feel high off the taste of your cunt. his lips latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the nub. “fuck, fuck, sugu, just like that!” your praise only serves to spur him on, your orgasm the only thing on his mind.

two of his fingers dip inside your cunt, filling you even better than you’d imagined just a few days ago. suguru curls his fingers perfectly, drawing out desperate moans from your lips with each prod against your g-spot. he continues sucking around your clit, pleasure building up deep in your gut.

his fingers spread you open, pearlescent slick dribbling down his gloved fingers. your hips move on their own accord, pushing them even deeper as you chase your orgasm. “gonna cum, gonna cum,” you babble, smearing yourself across his face and fingers. your own couldn’t compare to this, not by a long mile.

“that’s it, come for me, take what you want from me,” suguru’s words unraveled you like a birthday present, your orgasm hitting your body in waves. shudders rack through your body, your legs shaking as your release spurted out of you, coating his mouth, chin, and nose. he’s quick to lap up at the drops lingering on his lips, wrapping his mouth around his fingers. sucking them off completely, a moan leaving his lips at the taste.

suguru made quick work of sliding down the rest of his costume, letting it fall on your floor. his cock slapped against his stomach once released, tan at the base with a couple veins running up the thick shaft, tip a reddish pink and dripping drops of precum. a slight eight inches if you had to go off on estimate.

he moves to his spot behind you, wrapping a hand around his shaft. slowly starting to swipe it up and down your folds, tip nudging against your sensitive clit. “i thought it was fuck me, c’mon sweetheart, tell sugu how much you hate him

“fuck y—” his cock sinks in completely, lips parting into a moan while your walls clench around him, tightly wrapped around his shaft like a vice. suguru doesn’t move just yet, even as you push your hips back for some kind of friction, “come on, finish your sentence. don’t be rude.”

you’re too desperate to form a cohesive thought—blurting out the first thing on your mind, “oh fuck me, please!”

“with pleasure, sweetheart.” he pulls back in one swift motion, hips snapping against your own when he thrusts back in, curve of his cock dizzying as it hit every single spot that had your toes curl. "ah ah ah, fuck, don't stop!" suguru doesn’t start off fast, but he starts off deep—letting you feel every inch he was stuffing inside. your cunt dripped around his shaft, squelching as your slick mixed in with the drops of precum dribbling down.

“like this?” he has the audacity to ask, his hands gripping onto your waist as he fucks into you. your ass jiggles back against him with each shove of his cock, balls smacking against the back of your thighs. he starts to move faster, pounding into your cunt like he wanted to imprint the shape of him into your walls.

“j-just like that!” you respond, head buried into the sheets in front of you. the grip you had on your sheets tightens tenfold, body jerking back and forth. that just won’t do. he raises your head up from its hiding spot, turning your head to kiss you. it’s sloppy, it’s desperate, and it’s more teeth and tongue than anything.

it’s perfect.

“keep your head up, wanna hear every little moan,” he babbles behind you, reveling in every little ah! ah! ah! that left your lips, moans mixing in with the sound of skin slapping against skin. your eyes roll back, drool leaking from your lips with every inch he drags across your cunt.

suguru plants one of his feet up on the bed, the position allowing for him to thrust even deeper. his tip kissed your cervix with each punishing thrust of his hips, each vein and ridge rubbing against your walls deliciously. one of his hands moves down in between your legs, rubbing desperate little circles around your clit.

you clamp down around his shaft, your release quickly building up. suguru feels his own approaching, balls tightening up, but he’s determined. determined to make you gush around his cock before he spills his load. your legs tremble and quake, orgasm hitting you much more intense than last time.

your release dribbles and spurts around his shaft, a creamy ring at the base as he pulls back. his hips stutter while he tries to maintain his pace, abs clenching the longer he tries to prolong his orgasm. “come for me, suguru, fill me up.” that’s enough to drag a strangled moan from his lips, a thick load of cum painting your walls white.

suguru remains still for a second before gently pulling his softening cock out, watching as you all but collapse face down onto your bed. “where do you keep your rags?” he moves across your bedroom, heading over to the bathroom.

“second cabinet on the right.” he grabs a few, making sure to get one wet enough to clean up between your legs. he takes the opportunity that your parents aren’t home to leave your bedroom, going over to grab a water bottle.

“here, take a sip.” he holds it up against your mouth, your hands reaching out to take hold of it. a moment of stillness, calm settles over your bedroom as he lightly rubs the rag against your skin, wiping away the milky trails of cum dribbling down your cunt and thighs. you close off the bottle, setting it aside on your nightstand.

“my photography class is making me submit my portfolio for my final, wanted to know if you’d be my model for tomorrow,” he speaks up, settling next to you. he wipes the sweat away from your forehead with a clean rag, just as gently as he’d done before. your body feels sluggish and limp, melting into his embrace as he wraps a hand around your stomach.

“that sounds nice. i’ll show up around three,” you whisper before succumbing to sleep, one of your own arms wrapped around his chest. even if suguru wanted to move (which he didn’t), he couldn’t move with how tightly you were holding onto him. it was the nicest sleep you’ve had thus far, the most relaxed you’ve allowed yourself to be.

the walk over to his apartment was quiet, the city still with each step you took. the trees rustled with each light breeze that passed, birds chirped a melody in the distance. for once, there weren’t any police sirens or honking cars out on the street.

maybe that should’ve been your first sign something was wrong.

—

the quiet before the storm never seems to last for very long, does it?

you never made it to his apartment. never sent a text message saying you couldn’t make it, no kind of explanation. suguru had been waiting for hours now, unwilling to accept the fact he’d simply been ghosted out of the blue. sure, you’d done that before, but his gut told him otherwise.

turning his tv on, he was greeted by the sight of the lizard. he’d regenerated faster than expected, all the effort that suguru put into fighting him the first time diminished into nothing but cheap headlines. but that’s not all that he sees. when the camera pans in, focusing on the lizard’s scaly hand, his heart drops to his ass.

“come out, come out if you want to see your girlfriend again, spider.” each taunt only makes his blood boil, watching helplessly as the lizard dangled your limp body from side to side. dropping you, gasps erupting from the public watching, before his tail wrapped around your body. “you know where to find me.”

pulling the mask on to defend the city had always felt like an obligation, some kind of punishment for sneaking out during a field trip and getting himself bit by a radioactive spider. but this time, it felt more like necessity. adrenaline pumped through his veins, pushing him through each building he swung and pulled himself off of.

of course, the lizard couldn’t have made things easy enough for him. sneaking through the clock tower, he came across a machine set to go off in thirty minutes, containing a vial full of lizard dna. if the average person would so much as inhale even a speck of air when it went off, they’d immediately face the effects.

effects that their body wasn’t suited to take, effects that their body would reject until their untimely demise. the countdown ticked, 30… 29… 28… and right at the same time spider-man made his appearance, the lizard decided to give him a choice. the city of new york or you.

spider-man was a hero revered for his ability to think fast on his feet, for his ability to swing into action with the best possible solution.

but suguru was fucking scared.

he could hear his heart thumping in his ears, his breaths coming out in short little wisps. even one little second was too much to waste, a second that could’ve to save you. to save the city of new york. the machine doesn’t take long to deactivate, only needing the vial to be removed. green smoke evaporated into nothingness, the machine’s countdown coming to a halt.

he couldn’t afford to hesitate now. suguru tossed himself off the clocktower’s peak, diving straight towards where you were helplessly flailing around. your hands clawed at pure air, reaching out for a final salvation to no avail. his wrist flicked forward, a silken web extending out to your chest.

four strings extended from the original web, a hand reaching out towards your body. you flailed helplessly in mid air, hearing people gasp and scream right behind you. you couldn’t focus on them, couldn’t focus on anything but suguru. the air feels cold, too loud in your ears, your vision blurry. the ground seems so close, and yet so far away. like you’re falling in slow motion.

suguru was so close, he was nearly there. his fingertips grazed against your skin, reaching out to take hold of your hand. just as soon as he thought he’d assured a tight grip over your body, you slipped away from his fingers. the web connected to your body, a second too late.

the memories behind your eyelids weren’t ones about your academic achievements, about a party you skipped to get your pre-sat score higher. no, you got painful reminders of everything you didn’t get to do. that you didn’t get to go out on a date with suguru, that you didn’t get the chance to get to know him better, that you’d die and no one would know you as anything other than the girl with a tight stick up her ass. you’d never be able to do those things, either.

never get to feel the warmth of the sun against your face again, never get to feel the softness and tenderness from suguru’s touch. that one, you think, hurts the most.

CRACK.

he felt it before he heard it. felt the moment your heart went silent, the moment that spider-man failed you. still, he persisted. there must be something he could still do, anything at all.

he can’t afford to lose you, he just can’t.

his hands hooked underneath your legs when he got close enough, cradling you close to his chest. “hey,” his voice cracks, tears welling underneath his mask. “open your eyes, please. talk to me. say you hate me, say you love me, say anything.

just… come back to me. please.” guilt seeps in through the open wound with a vengeance, a reminder you wouldn’t have been in this predicament if he wasn’t so careless. if spider-man hadn’t allowed himself to feel a smidge of happiness, you’d still be alive.

you had many dreams in the world. and that’s all they would be, just dreams.

the world moves on without you, just the same as it had while you were in it. there’s quiet whispers in the halls, your seat in each class available almost out of respect? out of fear of a ghost? whatever the case may be—parties are still thrown, tests are still being held, and yet… suguru remains stagnant. haunted by the memory of you, your touch burning into his hand. he could’ve reached you, should’ve tried to catch you instead of throwing a web aimlessly.

you don’t leave his mind. every waking moment, he’s reminded of you in everything he does. how you’d be pissed off he’s letting his gpa fall to the gutter because he can’t bring himself to open up stupid canvas. how he’d never get to have anything with you that wasn’t banter or a night of sex. maybe it would’ve been better if he never approached you at all. if he didn’t ruin your life as spider-man.

internships he’d signed up for the sole purpose of getting on your last nerve are given to him on a silver platter, achievements that you’ve worked hard to earn given to him as if nothing happened in the first place. as if he could ever come close to being as deserving as you were. he hits decline on each and every single offer, not even bothering to give a polite email in response. the project’s only finished because it felt wrong to leave it as it was, and even then, suguru knows it’s not the best it could’ve been.

crime still runs rampant through the streets of new york—stolen bicycles, snatched purses, robberies gone awry, and yet, suguru doesn’t put on the suit. knows that he wouldn’t be able to hold his punches otherwise. and as much as he tries to keep moving forward, forcing himself to show up to classes he’d paid half a fortune for, you weren’t the only one who died that day.

—

WHERE IS SPIDER-MAN?!

article published by the daily bugle, 2026

spider-man. the man we seek out to solve most of our problems throughout the city whether it be the simplest of bank robberies or a giant lizard wrecking havoc amongst the city.

he has shown up time and time again in our time of need, in times where everything was once thought of as a lost cause. but one has to wonder, how good is this dependence?

the webbed vigilante has left us to our own devices, having gone missing for months now. we are completely helpless, doubting our finest officers that put their lives on the line to keep us safe. this sick hero’s been working on his own merit, on his own accord without any policing, to ‘protect’ the city.

shoko’s perched at her desk, her posture rigid as she color-codes her notes, not really paying attention to you while utahime is sitting cross-legged on the floor, peering up at you with a mixture of disbelief and disgust, “have some shame, genuinely”

“i wish she would” shoko mutters, not even bothering to look up from her notebook. “she’s supposed to be making him fall in love, not lust but i don’t expect her to know the difference”

( she’s been in a foul mood since you told her about ijichi’s crush on her. which is unfair. because it’s not like you were the one who developed feelings for her. you’re merely the messenger. historically speaking, messengers are not supposed to get shot. )

“are you still mad about the ijichi thing ?” you ask cautiously as you hold the black tank up to your chest again. “because i feel like you’re still mad about the ijichi thing and can i just say that i think it’s really cute that he likes you even though—”

“sleep with one eye open tonight” shoko slowly looks up, her expression sour enough to curdle milk. “or don’t even sleep at all because i think i might actually kill you.”

( you know she’s joking. probably. but there’s an edge to her voice that makes you wonder. shoko’s always been protective of her heart, wrapping it in layers of indifference and sarcasm. maybe ijichi’s crush hit closer to home than you thought. or maybe she’s just tired of being tangled up in your schemes. )

you gulp, instinctively taking a step back.

 “what’s the ijichi thing ?”  utahime asks, brown eyes blazing with morbid curiosity

“well,” you say, deciding on the black tank and tossing the grey one onto the mountain of clothes on your sheets. ”satoru’s roommate, ijichi, has this massive crush on shoko and he asked me to introduce them if he agreed to tutor me. it’s not even that deep i don’t know why she’s so mad at me”

“i’m mad at you because i’m not a fan of getting people’s hopes up or hurting their feelings” shoko grumbles. she finally tears her attention away from her notes long enough to level you with a withering look.

“you don’t even know if he’s gonna ask you out,” you point out. 

“and i'd like to keep it that way.” she takes a long sip of her coffee. “i don’t have time for this. yaga’s on my ass about choosing a topic for my thesis”

“i know” you sigh, “you’re acting like i sold your hand in marriage and your wedding’s tomorrow. satoru never gave me a deadline, so you can talk to ijichi next year for all i care”

“when you die i call dibs on your brain,” shoko mumbles, her brows knitting together as she tries to wrap her head around what you’ve just said. “i need to study it in detail because the way your thought process jumps from point a to point q is genuinely unlike anything i’ve ever seen”

“thank you but. . .” you glance at her over your shoulder and pout, “i’m not sure i’m donating my brain to science . . . sorry !”

“you know damn well that wasn’t a compliment.” she’s practically glaring at you now. 

( if you had a dollar for every time you successfully rage baited shoko, you’d be a millionaire ) 

“i have free will” you quip, “ i’m choosing to receive it as one anyway.”

“see ?” shoko points at you with the end of her highlighter. “that. that’s exactly what i’m talking about.”

you stick your tongue out at her before padding towards the bathroom, black tank top dangling from your fingertips. you slip into the tank top and smooth over the slightly wrinkled fabric. fluorescent lights hum overhead as you catch your reflection in the mirror. it looks good. casual. effortless.

which is ironic considering you’ve spent the better part of twenty minutes trying to look effortless. you tilt your head, adjust a strap, tilt your head the other way. the tank top looks almost identical to the grey one. suguru was right about that. you hate when suguru is right. it unfortunately happens more often than you’d like.

you fish a tube of lip gloss out of your pocket and swipe it across your lips before giving yourself one final once-over. good enough. if you spend any more time staring at yourself, you’ll be late. and showing up late definitely won’t score you any brownie points with satoru.

you leave the bathroom and immediately have to sidestep the pile of clothes you'd abandoned outside the door. future you can deal with that. present you has more important things to worry about. namely the fact that you’re supposed to be at the library in– you check your phone – ten minutes. shit.

“be honest. how do i look ?” you ask, spreading your arms slightly. your phone remains clutched in your hand, the blinking numbers on the lockscreen reminding you that you’re rapidly running out of time.

utahime glances up first. her gaze travels over your outfit before she gives a small shrug and returns her attention to the document on her screen. “good,” she hums. “you always look good.”

finally. somebody in this room is being nice to you “thank you.” your attention shifts towards shoko next. she’s still hunched over her notebook, one hand wrapped around a highlighter while the other cups a mug of coffee. she doesn’t seem remotely interested in participating in this conversation. which means you’re obviously going to drag her into it anyway.

“shoko ?” you prompt hopefully.

“you have clothes on,” she replies , reluctantly looking up from her notes, her voice flat enough to make it clear that this is the extent of the feedback she’s willing to provide. your jaw falls slack in disbelief. “you asked,” 

“yeah but i was hoping for a better answer” 

“that’s the only one you’re getting.” rude. so rude. with shoko proving herself entirely useless, your gaze finally lands on suguru. the second your eyes meet, the corner of his mouth twitches.

“you can still back down y’know,” he pipes up, finally sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair. “save yourself the stress and embarrassment and we can grab some ice cream. my treat. i’ll let you be passenger princess and everything”

you snicker, grabbing your tote bag from where it’s slung over your desk chair. “nice try emo. i’ll have satoru eating out of my palm by the weekend. he’ll be writing my name in his little physics notebook surrounded by tiny hearts. and then you can be passenger princess” 

“over my dead body” suguru scoffs, “have you spoken to your therapist about you and toji breaking up yet ? if you haven’t i think you should.”

“you must be in love with nitta because you bring her up more than i do,” you snap, shoving a pack of nerds gummy clusters – no pun intended – into your bag. you follow it with a cascade of jolly ranchers and warheads. 

suguru raises a brow, and it’s somehow more infuriating than him making a witty comeback. “i’ll be gone for an hour and a half at most,” you say, turning to shoko. “do you want me to grab you some coffee from the cafe on my way back ? i know we’re running low on coffee grounds” it’s a peace offering. an olive branch. a desperate attempt to ensure she doesn’t murder you in your sleep. if there’s one thing she loves just as much as alcohol and cigarettes, it’s coffee.

“you can’t bribe me. . .” shoko narrows her eyes. “but i’ll need energy to kill you so get me an americano from the cafe. three extra shots.”

“consider it done,” you grin. with that settled, you weave through the obstacle course of clothes littering your floor and head for the door before anybody can find another reason to delay you. you’re already cutting it close. eight minutes isn’t a lot of time when the engineering library is practically on the other side of campus.

the walk to the engineering library isn’t too long. a six-minute trudge through the heart of campus that gives you just enough time to mentally prepare yourself for round two with satoru gojo. .

the engineering library is quiet as always when you arrive. the air thick with the scent of old books and academic despair. you spot him almost immediately, he’s wearing a grey hoodie today, the hood pushed back to reveal his snowy hair that seems to glow in the dim light, tucked away in his usual corner behind the stacks, already hunching over his laptop. his fingers moving across the keyboard with a speed that’s almost inhuman, his entire being completely focused on the glowing screen in front of him.

( you shouldn’t find it attractive. you really shouldn’t. it should be boring. it should be intimidating. but there’s something about it, something about the way he’s always completely lost in his own world, that’s oddly compelling. )

you hover for a moment, your hand hovering over his shoulder. you can hear the faint, tinny sound of classical music leaking from his headphones. you clear your throat. nothing. you tap on his shoulder and he jumps slightly before glancing over his shoulder. “oh. you again” he murmurs, his cadence flat. he sighs, a sound of profound irritation, and slowly, as if every movement costs him a precious second of his life, he pulls his headphones down to rest around his neck.

“oh don’t sound so excited to see me,” you say sarcastically, sliding into the chair beside him and dropping your heavy tote bag on the polished floor with a thud that earns you a dirty look from the students at the next table over “i might start to think you enjoy my company.”

“i’m indifferent,” he murmurs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “let’s just get this over with, i’m hoping to move on to quantum physics today”

“eager aren’t we ?” you lean forward, propping your chin in your palm, “can’t wait to spend some quality time with me ? i’m flattered, truly”

he doesn’t even dignify that with a response. without wasting any time, he pulls out a brand new notebook – jet black with a rainbow digimon spiral – and begins to write. his handwriting is infuriatingly, perfect. a clean, blocky print that looks like it was typed up on a computer. he’s written out ‘quantum physics for dummies’ at the top of the page and looks up at you. glasses sliding down his nose ever so slightly, “we’re going to start with wave particle duality and superposition ? how proficient are you with differential equations ?”

“proficient ?” you echo, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “i barely passed the test”

he just stares at you, his expression unchanging. “so, not proficient at all.”

“not even a little bit,” you confirm cheerfully. “you’re going to have to explain this to me like i’ve never taken a physics lecture before” you haven’t obviously. but he doesn’t know that.

a muscle in his jaw twitches, he looks like he wants to scream at you but he just nods, turning back to his notebook. “right. okay. wave-particle duality. think of it like this. light, and matter in general, can behave like a wave, or it can behave like a particle. it’s not one or the other. it’s both, depending on how you look at it. ”

he draws a simple diagram, a wave and a small ball, side by side. “superposition is the idea that a quantum system can exist in multiple states at once. until you measure it. and then it collapses into a single, definitive state. this is represented mathematically by a wave function that encodes the probability of finding a particle in a specific state. the wave function is the solution to the schrödinger equation” 

you just stare at him, the words washing over you. “so you’re telling me. . . that something can be two completely different things at once, and the only reason it’s not one or the other is because we’re not looking at it ? i fear that doesn’t make any sense” 

“it’s the fundamental principle of quantum mechanics. it doesn’t have to ‘make any sense’” he mutters, his voice tight with frustration, “quantum physics, doesn’t make sense to human intuition because it’s theoretical and centered on the subatomic world. i’m well aware that  it sounds absurd because it defies our day-to-day macroscopic experiences but thanks to mathematics we can make extremely accurate predictions regarding the behavior of atoms and light”

you blink, trying to process the mini-lecture. “so, what you’re saying is, it’s a ‘because i said so’ situation . . ?”

he lets out a sound that's half-sigh, half-groan, dropping his head into his hands for a moment. “no. it’s not a ‘because i said so’ situation. it’s a ‘this is how reality works at its most fundamental level, whether you like it or not’ situation. the math isn’t just an explanation, it’s the proof.”

“right. the differential equations,” you say, nodding slowly. “so, if i can’t do the math, then i can’t understand it. is that what you’re saying ?”

he lifts his head from his hands, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. he looks at you for a long moment, before murmuring, “not quite, you can understand the concepts, the ideas, without being able to solve the equations. but if you want to pass then you need to be able to do both.” he flips to a fresh page in his notebook, “let’s start with something simple. forget the math for a second.” he pushes the glasses up his nose, a gesture you’re starting to find annoyingly endearing. “we’ll start from the beginning. . okay ? quantum physics is the study of how things behave at the tiniest scales, like atoms and subatomic particles. it’s a strange world where the usual rules of physics don’t always apply.”

you nod, trying to look attentive before he grows tired of tutoring you. “first, quantization,” he says, tapping his pen on the desk. “in our world, energy seems continuous, but in the quantum world, it comes in discrete packets, or ‘quanta.’ think of it like a staircase versus a ramp. on a ramp, you can be at any height, but on a staircase, you can only be on one step or the next, never in between. at the quantum level, energy, works like that staircase.”

“okay, so energy at the quantum level isn’t smooth and straightforward ,” you murmur, trying to wrap your head around the concept. you’re starting to wish you’d picked shiu as your target instead. it would’ve made your life so much easier.

“exactly,” he nods, a flicker of approval sparking in his sapphire eyes. “so back to wave-particle duality. it’s where things get confusing. tiny particles like electrons can act as both solid particles, like a tiny ball, and spread-out waves at the same time. whether you see a particle or a wave depends on how you look at it. it’s like those ambiguous images where you can either see a duck or a rabbit depending on your perspective”

“that actually makes sense” you huff out a sigh of relief

“good” he says, a genuine smile breaking through his usual serious expression. making his blue eyes seem even brighter. “now, superposition. before you measure a quantum particle, it can exist in multiple states at once. a famous example is schrödinger’s cat, a thought experiment where a cat in a box is theoretically both alive and dead simultaneously until you open the box to check. quantum particles are like that unobserved cat – they exist in all their possible states at once until you observe them.”

“so it’s only one thing when we look at it,” you say, trying to follow along. your brain is really starting to hurt “but before that it can be anything ?”

“precisely,” he grins “another important thing to know is the observer effect. it encompasses everything we’ve talked about so far. the act of measuring or observing a quantum system forces it to ‘choose’ a state. when you look at an electron in its superposition of multiple places, it instantly ‘collapses’ into one definite location. the very act of looking changes the outcome.”

“the next concept is quantum entanglement. this is what einstein called ‘spooky action at a distance.’ two particles can become linked in such a way that the state of one is instantly connected to the other, no matter how far apart they are. if you measure one and find it’s spinning ‘up,’ you know immediately that the other is spinning ‘down,’ even if it’s on the other side of the universe. and the final principle is quantum tunneling. particles can sometimes pass through barriers they shouldn’t be able to. imagine you throw a tennis ball at a wall and it just appears on the other side without breaking the wall. i know it’s a lot to take in and most of it doesn’t align with the the rules we’re used to but that’s the foundation of quantum mechanics”

“who’s the asshole that came up with all of this ?” you splutter, dropping your head into your hands. your brain feels like it’s been scrambled. it’s no wonder why stem students often look so tortured.

he actually laughs at that, which makes you peek through your fingers. it’s a nice sound. “it wasn’t just one person. it was a collection of some of the most brilliant, and probably most confused, minds of the twentieth century. planck started it with the whole quantization idea, then einstein with the photoelectric effect, bohr with his atomic model, schrödinger with his . . . well, his cat, and heisenberg with his uncertainty principle. they were all basically arguing with each other and stumbled across the truth. they saw things that didn’t make sense, made up concepts and built a new kind of math to explain them. it’s why i said it doesn’t have to ‘make sense’ in the way we’re used to.”

you nod slowly, letting that sink in. it’s a lot. it’s too much. “okay,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “i think my brain just short-circuited. i need a break.”

“that’s fair,” he says, his expression softening. “why don’t you read the textbook and make notes on what you understand ? it’ll help you process it. take your time.” 

“like right now ?” you ask, your eyes widening.

“yes, right now,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “i need to work on my models. but i’ll check your notes when you’re done.” with that, he turns back to his laptop, effectively dismissing you. you pull the heavy textbook out of your bag, opening it to the chapter on quantum mechanics. you try to read, but your eyes keep drifting over to his screen, where he’s working on a complex three-dimensional model of what looks like some kind of medical device. curiosity gets the better of you. “what’s that ?”

he pauses, his fingers hovering over the keys. “it’s a prototype. for an internship i’m applying for. biomedical engineering. it’s a low-cost prosthetic with sensory feedback.” he talks about actuators and neural interfaces and the potential to restore a sense of touch.he talks about synapses and signals, about creating a bridge between machine and mind, and you’re captivated, hanging on his every word. he talks for a solid six minutes before trailing off, suddenly aware of your rapt attention. most people’s eyes glaze over after thirty seconds. most people just nod and smile. but you seem genuinely interested. it’s . . . unnerving. and strangely . . . nice.  

“wow,” you sound genuinely impressed. and surprised by how much you enjoyed listening to him “that’s amazing.”

“it’s still a work in progress,” he says, but you can tell he’s proud of it. “i need to perfect it before the final interview. biomedical engineering is a competitive field.”

“i bet you’ll get it,” you say, and you mean it. “you’re really smart.”

he seems taken aback by your sincerity, his cheeks flushing slightly. “thanks,” he mumbles, turning back to his screen. he clears his throat. “anyway . . . back to your notes.”

“right. . . my notes.” you open your textbook, the dense, intimidating text staring back at you. you take a deep breath and start to read, your pen hovering over a fresh page in your own notebook. you’re not sure how you’re going to do this – make decent notes on quantum physics when you barely understand the basics – but you’re determined to try. for him. for you. for the sake of this bet

you spend the next hour reading and writing, your hand cramping up from time to time. you try to translate the complex scientific jargon into your own words, simplifying the concepts as much as you can. it’s slow going, but you’re making progress. you think . . . 

after what feels like eternity, you finally close your textbook, a sense of accomplishment washing over you. “i’m done," you say, holding your notebook out to him.

satoru looks up from his laptop, his eyes scanning your notes. he’s quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “you’re writing down too much filler” he says, pointing at a paragraph you’d spent at least ten minutes on. “focus on the core principles. most of the information in the textbook is pretty insignificant.”

“filler ?” you gasp, snatching the notebook back. “i spent ten minutes writing that ‘filler’. “maybe you should write these notes yourself if you think mine suck so bad,” it comes out a little more harshly than you intended.

( you’re not sure why it bothers you so much. it’s just criticism. it’s just him being. . . him. for some reason it feels like he’s not just criticizing your notes, it feels like he’s criticizing you. and you hate it. you hate how much his opinion suddenly matters to you. )

he looks up, surprised by your sudden irritation. “i’m just trying to help.”

“sorry,” you say quickly, a wave of guilt washing over you and quelling the heat coursing through your veins “my brain hurts. all this quantum stuff is . . .a lot.”

“mental fatigue is normal after intensive studying. take a break and let your brain recover.” he says, his tone softening.

“if you say so,” you murmur, diving into your tote bag. your fingers close around the familiar shape of a jolly rancher. you pull it out – green-apple – and unwrap it with a crinkle that sounds obscenely loud in the quiet library. you pop the hard candy into your mouth, tucking the wrapper in your pocket like a secret.

he raises a brow. “do you have a whole candy store in there ?”

“maybe,” you say, holding up the bag. “ want one ?”

“if you insist,” he says, and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a way that makes your stomach do a weird little flip-flop. “but anything but green-apple or grape.”

“how can you not like green-apple,” you scoff. “what do you like then . .? blue raspberry ? of course you like the most popular flavor like every other basic person on the planet”

“technically speaking,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “the hershey company’s market research indicates that watermelon is the most popular flavor. it’s a solid choice, but blue raspberry has a superior tang-to-sweet ratio.”

“rank the classic flavors. right now.” you tilt your head ever so slightly

“blue raspberry, cherry, watermelon, green apple, and grape,” he says without missing a beat.

“green-apple being that low is actually criminal ,” you grimace, you deserve to be tried for that opinion.”

“we can at least agree that grape is the worst, right ?” he says, and he’s actually smiling now, a real, genuine smile that transforms his whole face. “but how can you possibly put cherry that low ?”

“i have amazing tastebuds and i’m right about everything,” you say, popping another green apple jolly rancher in your mouth.

“technically, food opinions are subjective.” he counters, leaning back in his chair. 

“they shouldn’t be.” you shake your head. 

“yeah, because we have people like you walking around saying watermelon is better than cherry.

“you’re walking around saying cherry’s better than green apple, that’s blasphemy,” you retort

he can only shake his head and laugh. “i’m scared what’s next. you put milk before cereal?” you look away and he gasps. “there’s no way. there’s actually no way.” he sits up straighter, looking genuinely horrified. “cereal goes first. it has to. the entire bowl is built around the cereal. you pour the cereal, assess the volume, and then add the appropriate amount of milk. if you pour the milk first, you don’t know how much cereal you need, so you end up trapped in an endless cycle of adding cereal, then milk, then cereal again. and don’t even get me started on texture. with cereal first, every piece gets an equal chance to absorb milk. with milk first, some pieces get soggy immediately while others stay dry. society functions because we agree on a few basic rules, and cereal before milk is one of them.”

“in my defense i only use powdered milk” you sigh, “and cereal’s better without milk anyway”

“you know . . . i can’t argue with that” he says after a moment, leaning back in his chair as if the fight has been drained out of him. “but you’re not off the hook yet. . which do you think is better . . . dc or marvel?”

“woah, woah, why am i being interrogated ?” you ask, laughter spilling from your lips

“i’m gauging our compatibility,” he deadpans. “if you give the wrong answer, i might have to drop you as a student.”

( satoru having a sense of humor is. . . unexpected. you were so sure he wasn’t programmed with one because he always seems so strictly academic, like the kind of person who probably spends his free time reading research papers for fun. the version of him you've built in your head doesn’t quite match the guy arguing with you over jolly rancher flavors and threatening to revoke your tutoring sessions over cereal and media preferences. every time you think you’ve got him figured out, he throws you off completely )

“if i say that i love the marvel franchise, especially spider-man and black panther, but i also genuinely enjoy dc movies and series, are you going to revoke my tutoring privileges ?”

“nope,” he says, nodding. “that’s the correct answer. they both have their merits. pretending otherwise is just childish. i’ll keep tutoring you, but i’m watching you. very closely.”

( is he actually suspicious of you ? the thought sends a jolt of panic through your chest. rationally, you know he’s joking, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from creeping in. it’s ridiculous – there’s no way he could know about the bet – but the longer you spend around him, the more you wonder what he’d think if he knew the real reason you were here. )

the rest of the session passes in a blur of equations and easy conversation. you take notes, your handwriting still a mess but more focused this time. you pass him a blue raspberry jolly rancher, and he takes it without comment, his eyes never leaving his work. he explains the concept of schrödinger’s cat and you actually manage to follow along. he’s satisfied.

“okay,” he hums, closing his laptop with a soft click. “let’s call it a day before your brain melts”

“it’s already melted,” you murmur, leaning back in your chair and stretching. “but i appreciate your concern”

“can i have your notebook ?” he holds out his hand. you raise a brow but hand it over anyway. 

“how long are you gonna be here for ?” you query. he sighs, already opening your notebook to a fresh page, “until the librarian kicks me out . . . i’ve got a couple hours until that happens”

“well have fun with your . . . models and stuff,” you say, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. you turn to leave, but a wide, uncontrollable smile spreads across your face before you even take a step. it’s a stupid, giddy smile, the kind you can’t wipe off, and you’re glad he can’t see it as you walk away.

he watches you retreat through the stacks, shaking his head slightly before turning back to the open notebook. he hadn’t expected this. hadn’t expected to actually enjoy talking to you. he’s so used to being on his own, to being in his own head, that he’d forgotten what it was like to just talk to someone. to share a joke. to argue about something as trivial as cereal. he’s enjoying your company too much and that’s a problem. because he’s not supposed to be enjoying this. he’s supposed to be tutoring you. that’s all. he’s not supposed to get used to being around you. yet, he finds himself looking forward to your next session despite his brain telling him he shouldn’t. 

with a quiet sigh, he pushes the thought aside and picks up his pen, focusing on the clean, empty page. he’s rewriting his physics notes for you so you can use them to study. he doesn’t typically do this for people, not even when they beg him to. but he’s determined to see you succeed even if it means you’ll walk away and no longer need him sooner rather than later.

masterlist day two ⇆ day three ⇆ day four

── ✦ mimi’s notes: green-apple jolly ranchers are superior argue with a wall. also please rmbr the importance of fandom etiquette. i appreciate all the love but rushing me for updates won’t make them come any sooner i’m just a girl 😓

The car was rolling slowly along the forest road, all your friends arguing about something that was still understandable to your still-dizzy mind.

A low "Auch" slipped past your lips when Shoko accidentally hit your ribs with an elbow.

"Sorry," she sighed, bending double to check whether the thing they were all looking for was under the seat. "It's not here either."

Suguru, in the driver's seat, sighed and slammed his fist against the wheel. "Satoru, you're such an fucking idiot."

Cursing in the passenger seat, Satoru checked his bag again and again before opening the glove box. Long fingers searched through the condoms and stacks of cigarettes, still not finding the thing everyone was frantically looking for.

"I swear, I left it here," Satoru groaned, pointing at the box.

"What's going on?" You murmured, peeking at Shoko, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She sighed. "Satoru lost the map."

Your eyes widened and lips fell open as you shot a deathly look towards your friend. "What?! Satoru, please tell me you're joking!"

He looked over his shoulder. Milky hair brushed his forehead, and ocean eyes were already squinted in irritation. "I told all of you that giving me a map is not a good idea!"

Utahime, sitting next to Shoko, snorted, and Choso, with Yuki occupying the third row of the van, joined her with mumbled groans.

"Are you five? How could you lose the map?" Utahime groaned, pressing palms to her eyes. "Oh my god, so what now?"

You felt a shiver drip down your spine as the sizzling sun, which had burned your skin just moments before, slipped into a slumber and suddenly disappeared. Instead, a fog rose. It curled and wrapped around Suguru's old van, which was meant to take you straight to the campsite. The rest of the group should already be there, but you still had about two hours of driving.

"Look, the road can't be that fucking complicated," Yuki said, pulling herself up and resting her arms on your headrest. "Let's just drive straight until we find another petrol station. I'm sure they'll have some maps."

Suguru bit the inside of his cheek, cursing under his breath. "We're lost. I know it because that's the third time I've passed this car park."

Everyone leaned towards the right side of the car, following the small spot. The low, stony wall separated it from the slippery cliff overlooking a dense forest. A small body of water, a lake of some sort, peeked through the bending trees, yet the fog was too dense to see it clearly.

He stopped the van at the parking lot, no other soul around.

You wiped your eyes and yawned, opening the van's heavy door.

The air felt cold and crisp, sending shivers down your spine and pinching naked arms with little needles. You took the hoodie from your suitcase, pulling the soft, pinkish material over your top-clothed body. You stepped into the muddy pool in the white trainers, and a groany sigh slipped past your lips as you walked towards the stony wall.

Shoko joined you, a thin cigarette already lit between her fingers, before taking the first draw.

"I did not prepare clothes for such nasty weather," Utahime joined you, curling herself into Shoko's side. "Fuck, where the hell are we? It's been only an hour since we entered the forest. I was literally melting on that station."

Satoru and Suguru were still snapping at each other inside the car, while Choso and Yuki settled on the hood. With an old map from five years ago that was found in the trunk, they started scribbling a new one. They fought like an old couple, with Choso trying to draw neat lines and Yuki pointing her finger at the roads which were no longer used.

You chuckled, turning back to admire the heavy, misty view unfolding before your eyes. A gentle wind carried whispers, and an earthy smell tickled your nostrils. Your foot kicked the little pebble as it rolled and rolled, till it finally fell through the crack in an old stony wall. Trees whistled, a few branches creaking under the gentle mass of the rising fog.

"Are you okay?" Shoko's low voice suddenly brought you back.

Your head turned, a weak smile tugging on your lips. "Yeah, just a bad dream."

Grey smoke curled around her sweet face, brushed with long chestnut hair, slumber eyes trying to decode the restlessness beaming from your gaze.

"You were talking through your sleep."

Another pebble fell down the cliff as you kicked them one by one. Hands deep in the warm sweatpants, you thanked the god for wearing them instead of the shorts.

"Really? Sorry, sometimes it happens."

Shoko hummed, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief. Sometimes.

"You were repeating someone's name."

You bit the plush inside of your cheek, still looking down at your muddy shoes. A visible feeling of curiosity beamed off her eyes, while lips curled around the head of the cigarette. Another cloud of smoke mixed with the fog before she shyly, almost awkwardly, brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

You could already sense her next questions. After all, you've been friends for the past four years, and she'd never heard the name you sometimes repeated in your sleep.

Years of sharing the rented apartment, years of hearing your wailings and cries, always leading to one word only.

"So," she started, helping you kick the pebbles through the crack in the wall. "Do you want to share who's To–"

"Hey everyone!" Choso suddenly called, immediately getting your attention.

Shoko's lips fell into an awkward line before she turned with a muttered curse. In the depth of your mind, you thanked Choso for the timing and whispered, "Sorry, let's talk later," to your dear friend.

"What is it?" Suguru asked, slamming his van's door.

Everyone walked closer to Choso and Yuki, crouching over the old map.

"Here," Choso's finger landed on a crossed mark. "That's where we currently are. And here is the road we should take," he traced the thin line, at some point going outside the forest.

"Great, then let's go," Satoru clasped, turning back towards the passenger's seat.

"Wait," Choso muttered with furrowed brows. "The problem is, this forest road was cut off years ago. We shouldn't even be here. In fact, after leaving the gas station, we were supposed to go here," his finger pointed at the road that went around the dense forest, far away from the coastline stretching behind your hunched backs.

A low fuck slipped past Suguru's lips as he gave a bitter laugh. Satoru took a step back, both hands high in the air – either ready to fight the wrath bubbling beneath Suguru's chest or trying to justify himself for the tenth time.

"I didn't tell you to go through the forest."

Suguru shot him a glare as he bit the soft inside of his cheek. The gentle wind brushed his dishevelled hair, and lavender eyes squinted at his friend.

"I know. I just naturally thought we were supposed to go this way," he squatted with a sigh, head hanging low between his slumped shoulders. "Should we go back to the station?"

"Actually…" Utahime's pitched voice slashed through the foggy air as she pointed her finger at something down the stony wall. "I see a silhouette of the church. Maybe there's a city we can check. I guess they will know the way out of the forest."

Choso's forehead wrinkled as he looked at the map more closely. Finger tracing the point you were supposed to be at, before a faint oh fell from his lips.

"You're right. There is some town here," his hazelnut eyes squinted, a few locks of long hair brushed the pale cheek. "But I can't read the name. There's a coffee stain."

He glanced up at Yuki's cherry cheeks.

"Sorry," she giggled. "I may or may not have spilt a few droplets on it this morning."

She kissed his cheek with a sweet pout before hugging the hoodie closer around her arms. The weather wasn't strictly cold, yet an unpleasant chill bit at everyone's skin, and a nippy fog gently hugged the shivering bodies.

There was something utterly grim yet beautiful about it. The way it floated with an unbothered air, as if gliding over the serene lake and the humming trees long before the dimmed light kissed the chilly earth. It rose high, hugging your ankles, calves, and thighs, as if slowly smooching your skin with frozen kisses.

It moved with you and changed with you, each step dissipating the weak puffs of hazy gloominess before it wrapped itself around you again.

You hid hands in the pockets before covering head with a hood.

"Should we go then?" Shoko sighed, squinting to see the pointed, crossed roof of the church. "Maybe they also have a new map."

A set of old wooden stairs led down towards the little town settled deep in the forest. You had no other option, so, with a heavy sigh, Suguru took a few things from the trunk.

"Here," he said, giving you, Choso, and Utahime a flashlight. "Try not to twist your ankle on this mud."

That said, he slowly walked down the stairs.

A drenched, narrow forest path led deeper into the woods. Trees bent and creaked wickedly over your bodies, humming the melody of long-forgotten memories. Each step rose a wet squelch into the air, as all of you walked in silence, following Suguru carefully.

He bickered with Satoru like an old couple, murmurs and hisses being the only sounds that mixed with the scrape of the old branches.

And as you walked, with each step wetter than the last and the narrow path nearing closer to the old church, something in your chest panged.

Head felt dizzy, almost heavy, as if the trees you passed, the leaves sticking to your shoes, the earthy smell and the old, stony church were a part of some distant memory. The one you tried to forget for a long, long time, as if your mind had simply erased it.

A name of some sort was at the tip of your tongue.

And the deeper you walked, the closer it was slipping towards your lips.

The silence stretched as you left the dense forest and walked next to the first glimmers of the town. Abandoned ranches, a windmill, a cemetery, a church that stood tall and spooky, towering over the gravelly road.

"Why is the fog getting denser?" Utahime shivered, trying to disperse it with her hand. "What is this place?"

Solely shadows and silhouettes appeared on the horizon, with a few more old ranches passing by as you walked deeper. There was no way to tell where you were or which way you were going – the land was cold and wrapped in fog, leaving no option but to immerse yourself blindly.

Something sinister hung in the air. Something that made your chest tighten and tongue fill the inside of the cheek, as if those two words you tried to remember were already tickling its tip.

"Is that a fucking cemetery?" Satoru muttered before he tripped over the small grave. "Fuck, sorry."

Suguru lit the way with the flashlight, casting a few flickers towards the old, long-forgotten tombs.

You've read them, one by one, each letter feeling almost familiar. As if some of them were already deeply carved into your mind, yet closed by a mysterious spell of some sort.

S… the name surely had an s…

"Choso, are you sure we're going the right way?" Satoru asked, instantly pulling a snort from Suguru's throat.

"That's rich coming from you," he muttered, ignoring his friend's deadly glare.

Choso lit the map, hazelnut eyes squinting as if trying to check your position. But as it was rather clear – he couldn't. For the town was simply too small and too unknown for the map to show its narrow, old roads exactly.

"We're on a good path. I guess."

"It's not like we have any other option," Yuki muttered, a grim tugging on her lips as she traced all the neglected stones. "But looking at this place, I'm not sure whether there's any civilisation."

And there was also an H… yes… S and H…

"A ghost town?" Shoko wondered out loud, lighting another cigarette. "That sounds fun."

Utahime, wrapped around her arm, trembling and shivering either from the cold or from fear, furrowed her brow. "Don't say that! This place is terrifying. I would much rather go back to the gas station."

S… hmm… S-s-s-s…

A light pinch to your arm brought you back from your thoughts, and you quickly looked at Shoko. She pushed Utahime towards Yuki, then slowed her pace and led you to the back.

"Are you okay? You're doing this again," she said, hooking her arm under yours.

Grey smoke mixed with the fog, its density only worsening. You didn't even notice she was observing your crazy, private murmurs to yourself all this time, and so a warmth kissed your neck.

"Just tired," you lied, sending her a weak smile. "It's just that…" I feel like I know this place. "I didn't get much sleep. I'm fine."

She pouted, taking another long drag. Her cheeks flushed sweetly beneath the chilly pinching, arms brushed yours. Lying to her felt horrible, nipping little needled into your aching chest.

Yet explaining the sudden fog that filled your mind seemed too difficult. First of all, it was something you wished to unravel yourself – this eerie sensation that tried to guide you towards a memory that warmed your heart with a pleasant flame.

Similar to the one you felt during the dream – hot and tender, with the name of the man who traced the loving kisses down your weeping spine.

The man who felt so familiar yet distant, plaguing your dreams for the past year. His face was never there, as if your mind had simply erased it.

"If you say so," Shoko sighed. "Oh, everyone. There's some board over there!"

All three lighters turned to a washed-green metal sign and… and your heart stopped.

"Silent Hill," Suguru read.

The air felt as if it had suddenly slipped into something heavier, colder, sending a wave of shivers through everyone's spines.

"Silent indeed," Satoru tried to relax the atmosphere, yet his pale cheeks turned cherry-red.

Silent Hill.

A soft, almost inaudible oh fell past your lips, yet everyone turned their heads to peek at your frozen, plagued-by-dread face.

With eyes bulging and lower lip trembling, you shifted your gaze from the old sign and looked farther towards the road. The fogged houses, abandoned and wrecked, looked so familiar. The mill, the church, the weeping willow hanging somewhere on the horizon. Long, slender branches weeping silently as the fog brushed them gently.

Something in your mind unlocked.

A memory of something, someone. And with it, the various sensations washed over you one by one. Dread of a sort, yet mixed with the passion that swelled your heart with the maddening, almost threatening temptation.

"What is it?" Shoko asked, squeezing your arm. "Do you know this place?"

A minute had passed before your short nod made everyone take a deep, whistling breath.

"It's my home," you mumbled, taking a step closer.

You walked slowly along the concrete road, with nothing but fog guiding you farther into the familiar, earthy smell swirling in the chilly air.

"Your home–"

Yuki started, but you quickly interrupted. "I was born here. I left this place five years ago, just before going for graduate school."

"Why?" Utahime tilted her head as everyone passed the old sign and followed you deep into the town.

You shrugged, passing the old university, now looking more deserted than ever. The old, creamy building was coated in dark smoke, as if someone had attempted to burn it.

Some memories, old and eerie, flashed through your mind, but you simply couldn't piece them together into a coherent picture. As if whatever happened here, in the town where you spent over twenty years of your life, was too scarring for your mind to remember.

As if the horrors you went through simply vanished from your memory, as if blotted out by the thick, unremovable marker.

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling the unpleasant sensation squeezing your heart.

"I don't know," you answered honestly. "My parents told me I had an accident just after finishing my bachelor's degree. I only remember my life after moving cities. Whatever happened here…" you sighed, seeing that the hospital, built of deep red brick, was also half-burnt. "I don't know. They never talked about it."

Suguru and Satoru looked into some old cars standing freely by the road, as if looking for any sign of life.

But it seemed that the city had been abandoned for a long, long time, leaving nothing but the mist and tattered buildings.

"I don't think we'll find anything useful here," Choso sighed, opening another car's door. "I just don't understand why everyone suddenly left. Some of those cars probably still work." He slipped inside and grabbed something. "You see? Someone's purse, with the ID and everything. Why would you leave it behind?"

It was quite clear that none of you wished to be here anymore. That the goosebumps rose on your skins and foggy breaths escaped with a shudder.

The air was slipping into something eerie, wicked – not quite cold, but tingling your spines with the sense that lingering here any longer would do you no good.

"We should go back…" Utahime whispered, cuddling into Shoko's arm. "I don't feel good here."

"Well, why won't we at least visit your old home? Maybe you'll find something to bring back your memories."

"And we also need a few more batteries," Suguru murmured, shaking his slowly fading flashlight. "Let's look around, okay? But please don't walk alone anywhere."

You didn't remember exactly where you lived. But it seemed that your feet did, as after a few minutes you all found yourselves standing beneath the crimson-brick gate of an old apartment complex. No more than five floors, with the weeping windows and wet ivy curling around the empty frames.

Another tingling ran down your spine, as if to let you know it was here. That was the place you called home five years ago. Before you woke up in another city, with hazy memories of a life so strange, your mind simply decided to leave it alone.

A small garden curled around the building. The withered trees hung over the grimy windows; ivy covered the full length of the black metal gate. You pushed it gently, sending a high-pitched creak through the air.

Leaves swirled in the thick mist, falling gently onto the grey earth as you took the first steps inside.

"I don't remember on which floor my apartment was," you murmured, opening the old, crimson door.

Leading you all right into the long building. The fog slipped around you, marking the old, dusty rugs covering the creaking wooden planks. The air inside smelled musty and damp, yet much warmer than the chill spiralling outside. As if the heating was still active, with warmth running through the pipes connecting the abandoned apartments.

Two pairs of stairs led towards different parts of the building, and so you all looked at each other with the what now painting your tensed faces.

"Okay, me, Satoru, Yuki and Choso will go and look for some batter," Suguru said. "You, Shoko and Utahime will try to find your apartment."

"That's not fair. Why is no man coming with us?" Utahime snorted, wrapping her jumper more tightly around her goosebumped shoulders.

Satoru chuckled and slipped, "Because you have Shoko," before a low ouch followed after the brunette hit the back of his head.

"Anyways," Suguru sighed, pulling Satoru to his side. Like a naughty child who always needed a trusted adult around. "Let's meet here in thirty minutes. And please, don't leave this building no matter what. If you get lost in this fog, then it's over."

With brief nods, all of you went your way. You, Shoko and Utahime, climbed the left side, as something deep in your gut, a sense of sorts, led you towards it.

And the truth was that – you didn't know what to expect.

Your memories were slowly returning. Of Brookhaven Hospital, of Rosewater Park just passed, of Heaven's Night Club, which seemed to whisper tricksters' hints, as if wishing you to remember all the evenings you spent there. Drunk and giggly, always hanging on someone's shoulder, never on the one who haunted your dreams.

And the man, whoever he was, seemed to be a piece of the larger puzzle.

His low voice still swirling at the back of your mind. Heavy body pressing against yours, as you lay in the small, cosy room. With the sun or rain or fog slipping through the cracked window, as the seasons outside changed through all within one dream.

Sometimes, he kissed you during winter.

Another time, fucked amid the dark, rainy autumn.

When the feverish heat coated your bodies with the sheen of sweat, he promised his life to you over the deep, summer night. With the grasshoppers peeking through the thin blinds, and your mind registering nothing but the pleasure he bestowed upon your slumbered body.

And the farther you walked into the building, the more you seemed to recognise.

Because the room from your dreams must've been here.

You walked up the second floor, taking careful, quiet steps and checking every apartment with a flashlight, each and every corner.

Sometimes, a mouse crossed your path. A cockroach warmed itself next to the heating radiator, while the yellow lights flickered over the long corridors. There were at least ten apartments per floor – each one you quickly checked, holding your breath as you walked in first.

Because after a while, being here felt almost natural. As if your body consciously remembered your way around. Fingers brushing the familiar handrails, flicking the creamy light buttons, walking the old, wooden stairs that creaked under your feet.

"It looks more like a hotel," Utahime murmured, checking herself in the hallway's dirty mirror.

"Because it was," you confirmed, walking up to the second floor. "But it was too expensive, and developers changed it into an apartment complex."

Shoko hummed, opening the first door of the second floor with a gentle push. "That would explain why it's so easy to get lost in here. And also, why some flats are so tiny."

You checked the second floor, then the third, and only when you went onto the fourth did your breath hitch.

Because at the very end of the corridor, a door was ajar.

With the warm, steady light spilling from the small crack.

The three of you looked at each other, each more scared than the other.

"Don't tell me…" Utahime started, her voice trembling as if she had walked a mile in the snowstorm.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. "I think that's my apartment."

So you walked closer and closer and closer, each step careful and soft, as if you were afraid of awakening whatever resided inside the still-warmed flat.

And when you pushed the wooden door, nothing but a normal, cosy apartment spread before your eyes.

Opening right into the living room, with the sofa still intact and the crimson rugs hugging the clean floor. The kitchen, whose shelves seemed fine and almost full, with a soft buzz from the fridge filling the small space.

The little, round table stood in the middle, with a withered rose hanging low over the burnt candle.

You stepped inside, your eyes sweeping the place as if looking for the hint of life you had left there.

As if trying to see your past self spread on the green sofa. Or looking out at the garden from the balcony, with a cup of tea in your hand.

Maybe dreaming on the soft bed, filling the tiny bedroom fully. Till nothing but a single bedside table slipped neatly between the frame and the wall.

Your fingers brushed the slightly dusty dresser, and you noticed a few dusty pictures.

All of them showing you.

And a–

"Oh, was that your boyfriend?" Utahime gasped, grabbing one of them. "Oh gosh, so handsome!"

And handsome he was.

Much taller than you, with muscles bulging beneath the leather jacket and white T-shirt showing through his broad chest.

Short, raven hair brushed his forehead gently, ending just above the bottle-green eyes. Deep and lowered, looking right at your smiley figure, cuddled to his side.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and only then did you spot a nasty scar running across them.

He was… someone.

Someone dear, someone close, yet someone you should stay away from. The sheer sight of him made your heart swell with both inexplicable fondness and fear.

"I don't know," you muttered, brushing his face with your thumb.

Shoko was going through the search on her own, and when her frightened, trembling voice filled the silent apartment, both you and Utahime quickly made your way to her.

She sat at the kitchen table, with a few old newspapers lying on the wooden surface and her trembling fingers turning through them one by one.

A gentle, yellow light hung over her head, casting a soft glow on her bulging, chestnut eyes and fallen lips.

"I don't know who you were just talking about," she took a deep breath before turning one of the newspapers your way. "But if that's him, then your parents had a good reason to leave this town."

Your eyes traced a row of neatly printed letters. Turning into words of some sort, but the longer you read them, the less sense they made. They puzzled over a piece of something peculiar, almost eerie, that gave you a painful, pulsing headache.

Utahime gasped, covering her mouth with a hand.

Shoko sat frozen, following the changing expressions on your face, as you dropped onto another chair.

She said your name. Whispered, while Utahime placed a hand on your shoulder.

You didn't understand why.

Because the words on the paper, linking into a Five male students and one female bartender killed out of jealousy! still sounded incoherent.

And when your eyes moved onto another newspaper, the world started to swirl.

The jealous boyfriend strikes again – another three lives to mourn.

Kidnapping of the female student – the girl found after a week!

And when your eyes dropped onto the newspaper from five years ago, just a few weeks after you left – your breath hitched.

Murderer on the loose! The man who took the lives of eight male students and kidnapped his girlfriend escapes from jail.

And in each one of the articles, there was the same face.

The one who looked at you with unconditional love, as you nuzzled your cheek into his leather jacket and let the heavy arm wrap around your shoulder.

"Toji Fushiguro," Utahime read before giving you a quick look. "And the girl who was kidnapped…"

You nodded, still staring blankly at the piece of paper. "Yeah. That was me."

And yet you had no memories of the supposed days spent under lock and key.

No, but rather of something warm and fuzzy tickling your skin. Of the warm kisses peppering your neck, thighs, and breasts, as the same man hung over you, wrapping you in a protective embrace.

You couldn't tell, however, whether those were memories of sorts, or rather yet another dream that haunted your mind every single night.

A dream of you loving someone, and him loving you – in an utterly twisted, possessive yet true manner.

"Toji Fushiguro," the name spilt sweetly on your tongue, like a honeyed glaze that stuck to the inside of your cheeks.

Sounding familiar and almost lovable, ripping another large, foggy flake from your memory. And as it fell somewhere into the depths of your mind, the man's face, always hiding behind your arched back, suddenly became clear. The name you whispered in your dreams over and over again, stuck heavy to your throat.

Toji Fushiguro.

A man, a lover, a nightmare.

You bit the inside of your cheek, brushing with a thumb his printed face. Handsome, yet scarred with an intimidating look. Completely different from the voice that guided you sweetly in your dreams.

Before you could open your mouth, a loud, weeping scream filled the whole building, as if it were coming from the deepest, ripest parts of someone's lungs, sending a surge of shivers down your spine.

Shoko immediately stood up and walked towards the ajar door. She peeked through the little crack, as if waiting for another scream to bounce off the dark hallway's walls.

And when it came with the same intensity, you and Utahime joined her.

"It sounded like Yuki," Shoko whispered, lighting the old carpet with a trembling flashlight.

A shuddered breath escaped her throat as she tried to keep the hand steady. But it seemed impossible, with the metallic stench slowly rising above the floors and floating right your way.

"Should we check it?" Utahime asked, trying to hide herself behind the doorframe. "Let's find the rest and just get the hell out of this place. I'm going to start crying any second now.

And she was right, as her lip trembled in fear and fingers clenched Shoko's arm in a deadly grip.

You curled your hands into a fist and took a flashlight from Shoko's hands. "Follow me. There's a hallway linking both sides, we can join them through it."

In a slow, single file, you slipped out of the room, with Shoko gripping your arm and Utahime's muffled cries filling the silent corridor. Each of your steps left a creak as the carpet-clad floors wept under your trembling bodies.

The hallway felt never-ending, leading you through the darkness and ajar rooms – always empty and cold, very different from your still cosy apartment.

Something moved at the end of the corridor. Another weep pinched your spines, and this time, it wasn't Utahime.

All three of you froze in place when a few muffled voices came from a place nearby. Unpleasant whispers, dull sobs, sounding slightly familiar.

"Yuki?" You whispered, waiting a few seconds before calling, "Suguru?"

You took another step, although your two trembling friends made it almost impossible. Utahime didn't try to hide her tears anymore, weeping right into Shoko's hoodie. She, on the other hand, bit her lower lip hard, till a few droplets of crimson blood bubbled on her dry skin.

"Choso?" You whispered again, awaiting any sign that the voices you've just heard were not, in fact, your imagination.

Or something worse – unknown, eerie, befitting the mystery that hugged this town with the innocent, soft fog.

You took a few steps before something grabbed your arm and pulled all three of you into one of the rooms.

"What the–"

But before you could finish, someone's trembling hand covered your lips.

You would recognise that light hair everywhere. With chestnut eyes dancing madly and milky skin dirtied with some sticky liquid.

"S-shh-hh," Yuki whispered, pressing a crimson finger to her lips. "Don't s-say anything, f-fuck…" She quickly looked out the room before closing the door.

Someone gasped, and only then did you notice Choso sitting right next to her. Curled against the wall, with his head between his shoulders and muffled, low cries slipping past his trembling lips.

"Choso…" Shoko inhaled with a hiss before her trembling hand touched his shoulder. "Choso are you okay?"

When he looked up, all three of you froze.

With mouth agape and eyes wide as porcelain plates, he traced the crimson stench trickling down his cut eyebrow. His white shirt turned vermilion, and his lip trembled as he looked at your untouched state.

"So you didn't meet him, huh?" He whispered, grabbing Shoko's wrist. "The m-monster, you didn't see h-him?"

Utahime was already on the verge of tears, so she curled up in the room's dusty corner, her thighs drawn to her chest. Shoko ripped a piece of her T-shirt and pressed it to Choso's bleeding forehead.

"What monster? Where's Satoru and Suguru?" Shoko asked, trying to keep a cool, steady tone.

But you could see the sweat trickling down her creamy neck. Eyes darted between Yuki and Choso, one looking worse than the other.

A loud sob slipped past Yuki's lips before she quickly muffled it with her hand. Choso groaned, banging his head against the wall, trying to hold back the tears that were scratching his eyelids.

"They're gone," he said so quietly, you needed to take a second look at his face.

Shoko placed hands on his cheeks, keeping his head steady. "What do you mean gone?"

He didn't need to say anything, for the deep, miserable sigh that escaped his throat and Yuki's storming sobs were enough.

"They were in another room, looking for those f-fucking batteries, a-and…" Another muffled cry filled the chilly room.

"He got them," Choso finished.

"He?" You asked, curling fingers on your hoodie. "Who's he?"

"I don't know. He's massive, like a fucking monster. Wears a helmet of sorts, but it looks triangular. And carries this, I don't know, long, heavy knife," Choso buried hands in his hair, tugging on them with a painful breath. "He cut them as if they were a fucking slice of meat. Fuck, we barely managed to run away, but he's still somewhere here."

And before you could ask anything else, a loud bang sliced through the long corridor. Something heavy hit the old pipes, and the dull clatter rose into the stale air. Hit after hit, growing steadily closer, as whatever was causing it turned your way.

Yuki and Choso looked at each other with bulging eyes before flying towards the door. Through the small crack, they peeked their heads out for a second before closing it with a thud.

"Everyone hide," Choso ordered, frantically scanning the small room. "His sight isn't the best, but he has a real-fucking-good sense of smell. Hide somewhere here."

Shoko pulled the trembling Utahime from the corner, then moved them both behind the long, dirty curtains.

The deep night had fallen over the abandoned town, bathing the tiny room in darkness as deep as the midnight sky. The fog rose in thick layers, slipping through the cracks in the window sills. The rain lay a thin layer over the tall windows, painting them with cries and weepings, as if wishing to muffle your heavy breaths filling the lonely apartment.

The noise was growing louder as all of you hid in the darkest corners of the room – behind the curtains, deep inside the closet, and under the lone, thin bed.

Yuki and Choso curled together beneath it, while you breathed in the old, musty air of the dresses waiting patiently in the closet. Sweat trickled down your neck, lungs squeezed, head pulsed.

Not in pain, but rather a strange feeling that pinched your heart in such an unsettling manner.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor as someone began kicking in the doors to the apartments one by one. Looking inside for a few minutes before moving to the next, and next, with the dull, metallic noise cutting the vermilion carpet.

A low groan accompanied each step, as if the monster mumbled something under his nose.

A word… a name.

Sounding familiar yet so strange, only when he stood under your door did you recognise that it was indeed a name of yours.

A faint oh god, fell past Utahime's lips before Shoko quickly pressed her hand to shut her up.

Because the moment your room opened – everyone held their breath.

You peered through the little crack in the closet and pressed a hand to your lips. A shaky, teary gasp filled your tiny space as you saw a monster walking inside the room.

At least two metres tall, with shoulders barely fitting through the door frame and a single dirty cloth wrapped around his hips. A large, triangular helmet covered his panting face, while a vein-bulging hand dragged a long knife. Heavy, covered in vermilion liquid dripping onto the floor.

The stench of blood swirled in the air, mingling with a heavy, musky fragrance that tickled your nose. His footsteps shook the floor; beefy arms squeezed through the entrance as he stood in the middle of the room, looking around it at a slow, unhurried pace.

Your name once again fell off his lips, followed by a muffled baby baby baby, stuck in his mind like a mantra. A low, groany voice deepened the density of the aura he spread around himself.

And then… the massive, crimson helmet turned your way.

He took a deep breath, as if following the smell that slipped past the closet's cracked door.

He has some real-fucking-good sense of smell, you remembered Choso's words and gasped.

His steps were slow, rather crooked, as the long blade bent his back in an utterly strange way. The muscular, wide chest was covered in a thin layer of sweat, yet the fragrance smelled rather pleasant.

Familiar.

"Baby," his muffled groan slipped from beneath the helmet.

You knew this voice – low, raspy, lined with the tenderness that contradicted the pulsing dreadfulness it drew beneath your chest.

The same softness that haunted your dreams.

Your hand pressed against the door, eyes following his body as it came closer. And closer, and closer, until the musky smell hit your nostrils much harder as he grabbed the old closet door.

He didn't just open them, but tore them from the hinges with a single pull. Till nothing but a few pieces of wood hung loosely, exposing your small figure curled between the flowery dresses.

"T-To–"

But before you could finish, his fingers curled around your neck.

Pulling you closer, until you needed to stand on your toes to match his eye level. Although it was difficult to tell where his eyes were, as he hauled you right in front of his triangular helmet.

You've never felt such strength. Deathly, monstrous, overpowering you in every sense, with fat fingers gripping your throat.

"T-Toji…" you coughed again, dragging your nails over his beefy forearm. "Toji i-it's me."

His head tilted, as if trying to register your words.

You wriggled beneath his grip, twisted and squirmed, feeling pulsing blood slowly hitting your head.

A moment passed before he set you free, letting you fall back into the closet. But not for long, as a second later his arms curled around your waist and the world suddenly turned upside down.

You were hanging off his shoulder, with head dangling high in the air till you could see nothing but his blade dragged dully across the carpet.

You've noticed Shoko's bulging eyes mingling beneath the crisp moonlight. Yuki's arm trying to wriggle itself free from beneath the bed, until Choso quickly pulled her back in.

Everyone heard the monster whisper your name.

So everyone was ready to leave you be and save their own life.

And for that matter, you didn't mind it. As the long-gone feelings that had stayed locked deep within the confines of your heart suddenly spilt through the tiny cracks.

Your body hung swaying as the monster walked along the corridor. Towards the only apartment that was still brimming with life, as if cared for and tended to for years, waiting for your comeback.

When he passed the entrance and closed the door with a thud, you waited for your feet to touch the floor.

But instead, he dragged you to the bedroom, throwing you onto the soft bed. Your back bounced off the mattress as you tried to squirm into the farthest corner of the room.

He didn't let you go, grabbing your ankle and pulling you back in. Until you gasped, feeling his massive hands hook under your thighs, only to fold you in half.

"Take it off," he mumbled, dragging the end of his metal helmet along your trembling chin. "Take it off, baby."

You bit the inside of your cheek, grabbing the heavy, triangular helmet with both hands. The bloody stench dropped down the floor together with a loud clacker, filling the rain-peppered bedroom.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as the fog covering the face that appeared in your dreams every single night finally melted away your sealed memories.

The face of the only man you have ever loved loomed over your head.

With emerald eyes tracing the softness of your skin, gleaming in the chilly moonlight filtering through the blinds.

You trembled when he lifted his fingers to brush your cheek.

"My baby," he whispered, a low groan hitting you with a blooming warmth. His massive body fully blocked the only moonlight spilling in, bathing you in heat radiating from his chest. "It's been so long since I've lost you."

You didn't know what to do with your hands, but as he nuzzled his face against your breasts, you wrapped them around his neck. Tugging gently at raven hair, damp against his skin.

"Tell me you missed me," his fingers dug deeper into your thighs, as he pressed them against your chest. "Baby, tell me you thought of me this whole time."

But answering him was much more difficult than you expected, with fear and dizziness knotting deep in your neck. Only a soft pant slipped past your lips as he kissed your neck gently, licking the sweaty skin with a groan.

"W-why did you kill them?" you finally asked. "My friends…"

He knew who you were talking about, and chuckled, pulling away slightly, just to get a better view of your lovely face, with softly pouted lips and big eyes, looking up at his massive frame in panic.

"Because they wanted to take you away from me," He grinned. "Why the sad face, baby? Were they someone special for you?"

You bit lower lip, but he quickly pulled it down from between your teeth. "Answer me, baby. Were they someone special?"

"Y-ye–"

But Toji tilted his head, quickly cutting you off. "I would think twice before answering, baby."

You felt his fingers playing with the hem of your trousers. Fat digits, slowly, slowly slipping them off your hips. He used one hand to straighten your knees and roll the tracksuit swiftly, while keeping the other on your belly. Heavy and strong, pressing you into the mattress with a force you had no chance against.

The fear froze you in place as his fingers slipped beneath the hoodie.

"You don't want to make me angry, baby. Remember, some of your friends are still here," he muttered, warm breath tickling your earlobe. "Were the men I killed anyone special to you?"

"N-no," you sighed when one of his fat fingers brushed the hem of your bra. "No t-they weren't."

You wriggled beneath his massive body as he folded it in half again. He lifted your hips off the mattress and pressed himself against you with his full, crushing weight. A soft moan slipped past your lips as he tore your bra with a single pull.

Toji hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. "You should be happy I didn't kill your parents, baby," Teeth bit the soft spot just beneath it, forcing you to tilt your head back. "That I was still in jail when they took my girl away from me."

Fear, panic and anxiety mixed with the waves of pleasure he sent through your body. With fingers pinching the perked, naked nipples, and teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck.

You voluntarily lifted your hands, allowing him to pull off your hoodie in one swift motion. Leaving you bare and sweating – splayed beneath his massive body, with nothing but a bloodstained leather tunic wrapped around his hips.

The panic echoed through your mind, but the body acted as if it longed for the touch that used to make your head spin from pleasure. Willingly working with his fingers, melting softly beneath the tender touch and kisses, his soft lips peppered you with.

"Those men…" You mumbled, recalling his face plastered to all the major news from five years ago. "The kidnapping. I don't remember anything."

Toji pulled away, his squinted eyes observing your face closely. As if looking for any signs of deceitfulness.

"What do you mean?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, when he leaned over your chest, wrapping lips around one of the perked nipples. Sucking it gently, with a tongue swirling the sensitive bud and giving it a soft bite.

"M-my memory, mhm," your eyes fluttered, feeling his hips press against your soaked panties. "T-tell me, what happened here?"

The stench of vermilion blood still covered his skin, painting it in dripping red strokes. The blood of your dearest friends, most surely.

He ripped your drenched panties off, using the flimsy material to wipe himself clean. Letting your lingerie soak the remains of the people you spent your past few years with.

You didn't dare to move. Didn't dare to fight.

Just allowed yourself to melt under his fingers slipping down your belly, towards the clenching, fluttering cunt that drenched your inner thighs with the nasty, sticky juices.

It felt utterly inappropriate. To feel the lustful flame biting your flesh while spreading yourself beneath the man who had killed your friends just a few minutes earlier.

The roll of your hips in desperate waves, tugging harshly at his raven hair sticking to his neck.

But he was the man you, supposedly, loved dearly those years ago, and it was no surprise that your body, heart, and soul pulled you towards him in weeping despair.

"That female bartender," you gasped, as his finger brushed your trembling clit. "T-toji, wait, please tell me–"

"Shhh," he licked the long stripe between your breasts, across your chest, up your neck, until his lips met yours in a messy, metallic kiss. "My pretty girl. You truly don't remember, hm?"

Your head shook, and lungs desperately gasped for air, as he put his massive weight on your body. Till the mattress dipped beneath your back and a few bedsprings pinched your spine.

"You killed her," he whispered, tugging slightly to keep an eye on the surprise twisting your face. "That's right, baby. You killed her because she flirted with me in the club's bathroom. And I only took the blame for you. After all, I never denied killing those eight fuckers, and another victim didn't make much difference."

Another big slab of memory slipped back into your mind.

From years ago, with a girl, tracing kisses up Toji's neck, as he tried to push her away. Her fingers on his bulging jeans, hand wrapping around the biceps.

You, waiting for her at the club's back door, till she walked out alone and had the misfortune of meeting you.

Her head smashed with a heavy stone, as you huffed and puffed over her body, a rage still bubbling in your veins.

And then Toji appeared – always lurking somewhere around, never out of your sight – hugging you from behind. "She made my baby angry, hm?"

You pouted, turning in his embrace. Eyes looking up to meet his, drenched fingers brushing his cheeks. "I didn't like the way she touched you."

He giggled, nuzzling into your soft palm. He kissed it tenderly, allowing a stench of blood to coat his gentle lips. "That's okay, baby. No one can ever take you away from me. I'm forever yours."

The memory slipped into your mind suddenly, almost like an intrusion, sparking a surge of panic and anxiety that filled your heart with a painful throb.

You killed someone.

You killed a woman, only because of your foolish jealousy.

And the man hanging over you took the blame because there was nothing, ever, he wouldn't do for his precious girl.

"I missed you so fucking much," he connected your maws again, pulling your lower lip with a soft groan. His finger scooped the honeyed juice sticking to your clenching folds, as another filthy moan hit your cheeks. "I bet you taste delicious, hm?"

A shuddering cry fell past your lips, as you felt his fat finger trying to squeeze itself through your tight, wet hole. Sticky juices coated his skin like a spiderweb, yet your clenching muscles were too shut to let his finger in.

"Baby, you need to relax," he chuckled, peppering kisses down your chin.

Through neck, breasts, staying a bit longer to suck on your perked nipples, before biting a small roll of your belly and finally kneeling in front of your spread legs.

"I won't be able to fuck you if you won't open up," emerald eyes followed your tightly shut cunt, before moving up to glance at the warmth hitting your embarrassed cheeks. "It's been so long, hm?" his warm breath smooched your trembling clit. "No one has touched you for the past five years, right, baby?"

Your head nodded in panic as a sly smile tugged at Toji's lips. "N-no one, I-I thought I was a virgin…"

And because the past few years of your life had been nothing but a misty memory, you frankly thought of yourself as fully inexperienced in sexual pleasures. With only lustful dreams plaguing your nights, of a man who currently looked up at you from between your spread legs.

"Truly, baby?" he sniffed your leaking cunt, shifting the air with a loud groan. "Because when I kidnapped you, we did nothing but fucked for a whole week," his fat finger once again tried to push through your walls, only to send a crying moan from your throat. "I filled you with so much cum, we were sure you would walk out pregnant," scarred lips finally pressed to your clit, swirling the trembling button with a drenched tongue. "My sweet baby, you were always crying so prettily on my cock. Come on, open yourself for me."

He sucked, licked, and kissed your puffy clit, with soaked fingers slowly stretching your sealed walls. The muscles wrapped around his digit in an almost painful manner, and he hissed, feeling how tight you truly were.

Your back arched from a pleasure washing over your spine, as he swirled his tongue all over your weeping cunt. Sucking gently on a clit, biting the swollen lips, drinking the spilling juices like a madman, till the sweetness of your pussy marked his whole face. Cheeks and chin, both smeared in the sticky cum, as emerald eyes rolled back at the creaminess spilling over his taste buds.

"I missed you so much, my love, my baby," Toji moaned, pulling you closer to his face. One meaty palm fell over your belly, while two fingers of another tried to slip inside your clenching pussy. "You have no fucking idea how angry I was when they took you. Fuck," another groan of his pinched your spine with a trembling pleasure, as your back arched. "I killed them all."

You glanced down at his wet forehead, brushing away a few strands of hair sticking to creamy skin. "Who?"

He groaned when you tugged on his hair. "Everyone. I killed everyone for taking you away from me. For locking me up and letting your parents take you, God knows where."

The abandoned hospital, burnt university, destroyed ranches – he killed them all.

And as much as you wished to feel some sympathy, all the lost memories were slowly flooding your mind.

The days spent in Toji's pleasure, with his maniacal, possessive love, were flooding your mind again. His jealousy and territorial control led to so many unnecessary deaths.

Some of them caused by your hands.

"Good," you suddenly whispered, feeling an overwhelming, blinding pleasure bubbling in your loins. "Mhm, Toji–ah–that's o-okay."

His fat fingers barely slipped inside your cunt, lips worked on your swollen clit with a groan sending tremblings through your sensitive bud. He kissed and licked and sucked your pussy with an almost devoted passion, massive hand pressing your lower belly to the mattress.

You spread your legs farther, allowing his wide shoulders to paint red the insides of your thighs.

"Yeah?" he muttered, slowly looking up. "Are you happy, baby? I punished them all. Just for you."

When his fingers slipped deeper, your head fell back, and a bubbly moan escaped your tightened throat. "F-fuck, am so happy–ahhh."

Your hips rolled against his plastered tongue, chasing the pleasure slowly splashing in your lower belly.

But you didn't want to cum like that. Not on his tongue, when you've already noticed the meaty cock stretching his leather tunic.

And so you placed a foot on his forehead, pushing his starving mouth away. Your sticky juices dripped from his chin, hearts dancing in the emerald eyes, plagued only by the longing and desperation to eat his pretty girl alive.

"Don't test me, baby," he muttered, kissing the sole of your foot. "I've been waiting for you five years. Do you know what it does to a man?"

But you could only smile – slyly, cheekily, as if the girl from five years ago were slowly slipping back into your body – and roll onto your belly. Just to lift your hips and spread your cheeks with one hand.

The droplets of cum oozed from your tight cunt, landing softly on the drenched mattress. The sudden surge of boldness smooched your neck with warm kisses, leaving you bare and trembling right in front of your lover's eyes.

"I don't wish to test you," you muttered, still a bit shyly, avoiding his heavy gaze. "Just please, fuck me already. I want to cum on your cock."

He hummed and stood up. His head almost brushed the ceiling, and his massive body cast a large shadow over your trembling figure. He ripped the leather tunic off his hips with one pull, leaving you completely breathless.

The sudden confidence… suddenly disappeared.

And instead, panic rose in your chest as you saw the hanging monstrosity he had been hiding all this time.

Too heavy to stick to his abdomen, yet stony hard and oozing with musty precum. The bluish veins curled around his fat, pulsing shaft, and the reddened head was ready to burst any second.

Before you could change a position, suddenly feeling that this one felt too intimidating and deep, his hands grabbed your hips and pressed them to his hanging length.

"What happened, baby? You were so confident just a mere seconds ago," Toji chuckled, feeling the heat of your cunt against his cock. "I wanted to stretch you a bit longer, but if you're sure that it's not needed…"

He grabbed pulsing head, drenching it in your juices. It already felt heavy, monstrous, as he smooched your tight entrance with the biting heat that spread all over your swollen pussy.

"N-no, wait–" you tried to push him away, but he quickly pressed you to the mattress with one hand.

A massive palm landed on your back, locking you in one position – with hips high up and nipples brushing the bedding. You begged and wriggled, feeling his massive body tremble with laughter.

"Shhh," he bent over, kissing your spine. "Take a deep breath, baby. You brought it upon yourself."

His massive cock poked on your entrance. Pulsing head squeezing through the tight rim of your muscles, getting itself drenched in your honeyed juices. Your walls squeezed his shaft with a painful pleasure, letting a low groan slip past his lips.

"Toji, you're too big–mmm," a muffled cry hit the pillow, as his hand still kept you pressed to the mattress. "I can't–"

"No, baby," he chuckled, yet a few droplets of sweat bubbled on his forehead. "You can. And you will. I haven't cummed in five fucking years. Do you know how much I've been holding up for you, hm? I hope you came hungry, because today I'll be stuffing you full."

The grip of your cunt was simply maddening, almost tormenting, and if he didn't bite down his lower lips, he would already tear your sweet cunt with a lone thrust. But instead, he slowly pushed in, taking a deep breath as his head fully slipped in.

Thick shaft swabbing your insides, his hand sliding down to feel himself through your belly. Palm pressing the shivering muscles, as he pushed, and pushed, forcing inch by inch into your weeping cunt.

Completely deaf to your sobbing when you tried to pull yourself off his massive cock.

"Toji, please, fuck, that's–ahhh," you attempted to turn your head back, but his hand between your shoulder blades was keeping you in place.

"Just a minute, baby," he hummed, feeling his cock, slide through the tightness of your cunt. Your belly bulged with his thickness, sending another ruffling chuckle through his chest, and a crying moan out of your lips. "I'm almost here. Arch yourself a bit more, hm? Let me hit that sweet spot of yours."

You did as he ordered, hugging the pillow he pressed your face to.

"That's right, my good girl." His fingers opened your pussylips to see the nasty mess coating his length. "Don't tell me you hate it, baby. Your pussy is sucking me in. And I know that if I do this," he suddenly, without a warning, pushed his full length in, drawing a weeping scream from your throat. "You will immediately cum."

And he was right, because the moment his fat, bursting head hit your womb, and fingers pinched your clit – you cummed all over the mattress. Drenching it in crystalline juices, as a wave of pleasure washed over your quivering spine.

He didn't stop. Didn't wait for you to calm down after the first orgasm.

Instead, his thrusts became brutal, almost inhumane, as he pounced on you like a savage monster. With one hand still rolling your clit, he leaned over to lick a filthy strip of your sweat-coated skin. Teeth biting deep into your shoulder, as you cried pitifully, feeling his cock rearrange your insides.

"What's wrong, baby?" He chuckled, noticing a warmth creeping up your neck. "You still want me to pull out?"

Your head shook, teary eyes glancing back at his handsome face. "You're so mean."

Yet your hips started to willingly hit against his, chasing the hefty smooches of his leaking head that swelled your womb. The fat shaft filled you with maddening fullness, hitting all sensitive bumps inside your pussy. Soft walls clamped down on his cock, as if desperately trying to keep it in place.

But Toji's hips were stronger, faster, as he pulled his cock out, till nothing but his tip was still getting sucked by your sweet cunt, only to slam it back and force a moany cry out of your lips.

"Yeah baby, I'm so fucking mean," the sweat glazed his forehead, a few droplets trickling down his massive back. "And I'll be so mean while stuffing your poor belly full. You're not leaving this room until I get you fucking, pregnant."

You moaned, rolling your hips to feel more of his monstrosity brush against your sweet spot. Eyes rolled back and mouth agape, a thread of crystal spit trickling down your chin.

Toji laughed, seeing your fucked-out face drooling into the pillow. "And you're going to thank me for it, right, baby?"

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and gently nodded your head. "Yeah, my sweet girl. You're not leaving my side ever again."

His hips hit you faster, more brutally, making your back twist into a painful arch and your feet curl, as another wave of pleasure already pinched your lower belly.

"Try to run away, and I'll promise you'll never see the sunlight again."

His cock pounded you madly, and you could swear that it somehow, suddenly, swelled. Becoming even thicker, fatter, till your poor womb cried from the brutal madness of his leaking head and fluttering walls tried to stretch under its sudden growth.

"Tell me how much you love me," he ordered, biting gently on your earlobe. "Come on, baby, tell me how much you missed me."

His massive body pressed you into the mattress; air barely slipped past your compressed lungs, yet a muffled, "I love you–ahhh–T-toji I love you s-so much," still forced its way out of your lips.

"I-m going to, mmm, Toji fuck–"

He chuckled, rolling your clit between his fingers. Cock ravishing your pussy brutally, another wave of cum already splashing in your lower belly, as he put all his massive weight onto your poor, trembling body.

The fat shaft sat heavily inside the sweet warmth of your cunt, nuzzling itself deep against the swollen womb.

And within another second – he finally came.

Or likely burst, painting your insides white, with thick, hefty spurts of sticky seed, filling the little belly pouch. Stuffing your womb full, just as he promised, till the cum started leaking past the veiny shaft swallowed fully by your weeping pussy.

Trembles after trembles flooded your spine, as he whispered sweet little nothing to your crying cheeks. Kissing away the salty droplets, before he rolled you over and folded you in half.

"Toji, it hurts," you mumbled, yet still softening from pleasure under his touch.

He didn't need another minute, not even a second, as his cock hardened a moment after seeing your puffy, lovely face.

"What hurts, baby?" He cooed, licking your soft cheeks. "Tell me, what's the matter?"

You pressed your hand to your lower belly, feeling the waves of his cum splashing inside your pulsing womb. "It's too much. Mhmmm, Toji, I can't do it again."

But he simply didn't give you any mind. Knowing how much pleasure you always took from being manhandled like a rag doll. Getting stuffed full, till the nausea hit your throat from the taste of his cum and cunt leaked for whole weeks.

And if you haven't remembered it yet, he simply needs to remind you.

So he did – over and over again. Until you truly became nothing but a doll, liquefying in his beefy arms and weeping sweetly as you rode his massive, gut-turning cock. And although your face was swollen from constant sobbing, your heart swelled with maddening, almost terrifying adoration.

Or a torment, maybe, towards a man whom you should rather hate than care for.

A monster, a nightmare, a beast.

Your most dearest lover.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Well, I hope you enjoyed it...

I'm sorry, I cannot find the artist of Toji's fanart! :( dividers by @pixopix and @diviniyae