The years came and went. The hurt he once felt inevitably dulled. Yet, you always managed to linger around in the back of his mind, like a little ghost haunting him. 

To this day, he still has no idea what he did wrong. You may have ghosted everybody, but he wasn’t just anybody. If anyone deserved an explanation, it was him. 

He still cares for you, sorta, but it’s been so long, he’s not sure if he’d even want to reconnect with you. Not with how you just dropped him like that.

. . . . . . 

“Are you excited?”

“No,” you respond a little too flatly for Ieiri, who shoots you the look right after. “Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s just been forever since I’ve seen everyone.”

She sighs, redirecting her attention back on the road— there’s not much to look at. Most people stay home on gloomy Sunday afternoons. 

The GPS says you’re nine minutes away from your destination, making you remind yourself once more to relax. Though, you really wish you could be one of those people staying in right now. Cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie. 

Ieiri taps her finger on the steering wheel. “It’s like what I said—”

What didn’t she say? 

She held you hostage on the phone for over an hour last weekend, threatening and bribing, and then threatening you again if you didn’t go with her to Kento’s surprise birthday party. 

You thought you had a good argument at the time.

“Do you realize how annoying that sounds? Kento doesn’t even like surprises, could you imagine how irritated he’d be if I just randomly popped up, too?”

“If you were Satoru? Yes. You? Doubt it. If anything, he’d probably like the distraction from it.” 

“Yeah– probably,” you murmured. 

“Can you please get out of your fucking head for once?” she scoffed. “Yeah, it’s been years since you’ve seen everyone, but it’s not like it’s because of a falling out. I don’t know where you got this weird idea that they hate you now because of it. It was them who told me to bring you!” 

“Who’s them?” you stubbornly responded. 

“Suguru, Satoru, Yuki, Choso— even Toji said something about bringing Megumi so you could see him.” 

As much as you’d love to meet his kid, it would also be another reminder of all the years that’ve passed— how everyone moved on with their lives. Getting married, buying homes, having children, starting families. 

The most you’ve done is get the job. You’d include the condo if you actually got to enjoy it, but it’s been a year since you bought it and you haven’t even bothered furnishing the place despite all the money you've saved up for it. The last thing you want to do after work is look at a screen and make more decisions. Deciding between color palettes and aesthetics, deciding on what decor and accents you want— it all sounded exhausting. Hiring an interior designer was an option. Except, you barely want to talk to a stranger, let alone work with one. 

It’s too many decisions to be made for someone that didn’t want to make them. You often wonder if you’ve simply just become someone that couldn’t make them. 

You’re well aware of the things that are wrong with you, but it didn’t make it any less surprising. You, paralyzed by choices and options? 

The people who knew you professionally would laugh. Hard. Any sense of certainty that could be felt in the air almost always emanated from you. You were decisive. Sharp as hell— honed to perfection. Someone that was more than capable of a task as menial as filling a space full of items they liked. 

You know what you like, don’t you? 

No, not really.

You are sharp, there’s no doubt about it. It’s what your boss favors you for, and sure, one could say you’re valuable to the company, too. It’s a nice feeling for a while. 

Then you realize there is quite literally nothing more subjective than the value of something.

Luckily, you are very useful. It was simply a fact, and every single one of your quarterly reviews solidified it. A coworker, or god forbid a client, could spend an entire hour talking shit about you, and they’d eventually reach the point where they’d have to backtrack with a little ‘well’ or ‘however’, before giving credit where it was due. 

The devil works hard and you stole his pitchfork. Ripped it right out of his hands, because apparently, you needed it more than him to become the youngest portfolio manager the company’s ever seen. 

Who cares about the value of something when you need it? Mr. Yaga claims to hate black tea, but leave him out in the desert long enough and he’d easily drink gallons of it. 

Having you at the company isn’t a matter of life or death, there’s thousands of others out there that are more than qualified for your role. More than half probably had resumes twice as long as yours, too. 

But for Yaga, there is no guarantee that day to day operations would run this smoothly, ever again. 

You may be a little blunt. At times, impatient. But in a world full of sexual harassment allegations and sleezy managers abusing their power, not once has there ever been a formal complaint made against you. You’re not always like that either, you’re great with the clients and stakeholders. 

It’s a talent, really— remembering all the personal details people tell you, like childhood stories, the places they’ve vacationed to, a spouse's birthday month that was briefly mentioned months ago. It makes people feel special. 

It was very handy, too. Especially in the case where the company might deal with someone that isn’t likely to give them their hard-earned money or signature. Your job was to either sweet talk or gaslight. No arguing needed.

Yaga may have not preferred you at first. You were essentially a kid compared to the people that applied for the position. 

The plan was to let you down easily, tell you to keep working hard and you’ll eventually get there. You were already lucky enough to have your foot in the door as an employee. 

Yaga had a list of goals he wanted to reach before his retirement, though. Any of the other candidates would’ve helped with that, but none would've given him the opportunity to make a second list and cross that off as well. 

The decision took months. 

In that time, he realized a few things. 

One, he spent his entire adult life playing it safe, which is an obvious sign of fearing growth. You’re not sure who taught him that, but at least he realized it was okay to start over and try something new. It was like a rebrand for him and he embraced that the “new” him craved more profit and welcomed different approaches. 

The different approaches being, finding more aggressive people because they bring in the money quicker. 

He never saw you as aggressive, though. He never saw you at all, actually. It wasn’t personal, those under 30 usually come and go, so he didn’t see much of a point in remembering names. What he did see, when he finally opened his eyes, was efficiency. 

You were straight forward in a way that saved time, had an air about you that screamed “don’t ask me how my day’s going or what I have planned for after work”, yet approachable enough for work related questions. Stellar reports, received every quarterly and year-end bonus. Sharp. 

Making you one of the managers meant he could wield you like a weapon, now you are the one he uses the most. You had the salary to prove it, yet no time or energy to enjoy it. 

You’re respected. The young interns, the girls in particular, look up to you more often than not. Eyes bright and filled with ambition. Romanticizing everything, from how much coffee you drink, all the way to your style that they labeled as “effortless”. They’re not wrong, it is effortless— always some variant of trousers, a t-shirt, heels, and a long coat. They’re never planned, yet they somehow always manage to work thanks to the lack of color in your wardrobe. 

You overheard your lack of jewelry and unpainted nails being appreciated once for how “clean” you look. All you could think of was the girl that used to do her hair and paint her own nails at one point. Except for the ones on her right hand. She saved that job for her best friend who surprisingly had a steady hand, despite complaints flying out of his mouth the entire time. Even on the days he gave in and painted his own nails black, he’d find something to be grumpy and complain about. 

It was always you choosing whose house to hang out at, which movies to watch, what places to grab food from. He was a big brat whose favorite answer to most questions was an inaudible ‘I dunno’ from the way he’d mumble it. So, you always led the way. 

Now it’s you mumbling that same exact ‘I dunno’ when you’re all alone. 

You’re tired. Worn out. If you were a blade, you end each day dull and chipped. Nobody sees it, not even those young girls with all the time they’ve spent studying you, blinded by their own dreams and aspirations to be just as important, not knowing the difference between being valuable and useful. 

Maybe it’s better off that way. 

Who were you to try to burst their bubbles when you never had dreams or aspirations to begin with? Your eyes were never as bright as theirs— not as a student, not as an intern, and definitely not as a new hire. 

You never had a spark to begin with, what makes you think they’d eventually lose theirs? 

Maybe you were the unlucky one here. 

You were the one whose head went under water after one bad semester, after all. Even now, years later, it still feels like you’re stuck in the deep end while everyone else has moved on. 

Toji chose to get married and have a kid. 

You can’t even choose yourself on most days. 

“You have arrived at your destination.” 

Fuck. You have a hard time believing the GPS was that loud when it was telling Ieiri which exit to take and where to turn. 

Her lips thin into a reassuring smile as she makes the final turn into the apartment building’s parking garage, and you fail to return it as you take a deep breath. Ieiri doesn’t say anything this time, figuring you’ll probably just have to see everyone's excitement for yourself to realize this wasn’t a pity invite. It’ll settle half of your nerves. 

The other half should settle itself with time and a drink. Several drinks, honestly. She did the best she could with telling everyone that what you pulled during your second year of college was 100% a you thing and to not talk about it unless you brought it up. Which you probably won’t— everyone will understand. No one wants to talk about being in a dark place when they haven’t fully left it. 

One moment, you’re sitting in the passenger seat with your seat belt still buckled. Next, your chest is tightening as you watch her open the door to Satoru’s apartment. There’s already chattering, which stops once she announces your guys’ arrival. 

You barely get the chance to look around before Suguru’s peaking his head out of the kitchen to see if you really did show up and lets out a laugh once he sees that you did. It was light and airy, the kind that’s accompanied by the warm feeling that you should get in your chest when seeing an old friend. 

He’s obviously changed, it’s been 7 years. Yet, he never lost that quality that managed to make people a little more comfortable.

“Hey stranger.”

Your lips thin into a shy smile, “Hey.” 

“Well?” Suguru asks, holding his arms out. “I know it’s been ages but there’s no need to be shy.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, stepping forward and accepting the hug. 

He lets out another laugh. “Don’t be— it’s nice to see you.”

“Where’s mine?!” 

You easily recognize the offended, slightly childish tone. You slowly turn your head around to see a slightly less lanky Satoru. Aside from getting some much needed meat on his bones, he doesn’t seem to have changed much. He’s still as unserious as ever, still wears sunglasses indoors like an asshole. 

Ieiri stood back the entire time, sipping on a drink she had already managed to make, patting herself on the back as she watched her little plan run smoothly: Show up early and let you build some confidence from awkwardly greeting the old friends you shared together one by one. 

It’s funny, you told her that they’d eventually move on to talking to the friends they made after you, but they all seemed more interested in circling back to you, whether it be handing you a shot or introducing you to a new face. 

If there was one burden she wishes she could take from you, it’d be the burden that has you walking through the world as if you were everyone’s last choice. 

Today should be enough to prove that.

“Yeah, no— at this point, fuck Nanami and his birthday. This is a better surprise.” Satoru throws an arm over you, slightly swaying from the shots he’s already taken. “Pfft– he doesn’t even like his birthday. I’m sure he’d be happier to see her, too—”

“He’s coming up the elevator,” Suguru cuts him off. 

“SHIT! EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP AND HIDE,” Satoru suddenly yells, as if he weren’t just talking shit just seconds ago. 

No one would be surprised if Kento heard him yelling at everyone like that, and given how hesitant of a knock there was at the door. The blonde probably already knows there’s something up. 

Suguru goes to open the door, and the moment he opens his mouth to greet him, there’s a loud wave of people yelling ‘SURPRISE’ behind him, with Satoru saying it a split second sooner than anyone else did. 

Kento’s eye slightly twitches. Half surprised, half irritated. He fucking hates surprises and knows that’s the only reason why Satoru decided to throw him one. Before a complaint can leave his mouth, Ieiri hands him an old fashion. He tries to speak again, but gets interrupted once more when she tells him who’s here. 

At first he scoffs, already having enough of people of fucking with him today. 

“No, I’m serious!” she swears, looking around trying to see where you were at, eventually catching a glimpse of your head in the kitchen. “There she is— come say hi.”

Ieiri grabs his wrist and pulls him through the living room and into the kitchen, where you, Yuki, and Choso were talking. She turns back to look at Kento, who’s already surprised by her rare display of excitement, as she gestures towards you. 

“See? Surprise!”

“Yeah, surprise!!” Yuki says right after. 

“Holy shit.” Kento rarely curses, but finds himself unable to come up with better words. “It’s been ages!” 

“I know!” You try to sound more apologetic, but ultimately fail from the nice buzz you had going on. “Happy birthday!” 

And for once, he’s a little less uptight about it when he gives you a hug and says his thanks. It was a nice surprise, he had to admit. If only Satoru didn’t have to ruin the moment with the way he barged into the kitchen with some stupid, frilly party hat in hand, begging Kento to put it on. 

“I said no!”

“C’mon, Nanamin!” Satoru whines, taking a step forward each time the blonde takes a step back. “You’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t want to get any younger— I’m a grown man, and so are you. Maybe you should start acting like one.” 

“I do! I’m just fun,” he continues to pester him, ignoring everything Kento mumbles under his breath. 

You end up excusing yourself to use the restroom, somewhat bummed you couldn’t stick around longer to watch them bicker some more. You’re sure it went on for a while, though, unaware of how it was cut short when Shoko grabs Satoru by the arm. 

He hisses at how tight of a grip she has on him, fingers digging into his skin as she pulls him aside.

“What is your problem?!” he asks through a clenched jaw. 

“Sukuna’s here?!” 

“Yeah?” He tries and fails to free himself from her grip as he answers. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise!”

She looks at him like he’s stupid, nails continuing to dig into his flesh. “A nice surprise? He fucking hates her. I wouldn’t have brought her here if I knew he was coming!”

“Ow ow ow— No he doesn’t?! Do you actually believe that?!” he groans in between each sentence. 

“Yes! He says it every time someone brings her up!”

“Ow ffuck! You know how dramatic he can be sometimes— fuck, Shoko, please, you’re breaking skin.”

“You deserve it!” she responds in a clipped tone, despite finally letting go. 

“Jesus Christ— you can’t just assault people like that,” he pouts, rubbing his arm. “It’ll be fine! It’s been years, he can’t hold a grudge that long.”

. . . . . .

Sukuna can absolutely hold a grudge that long. 

Except, he was staring at said grudge like some fucking loser, and had to remind himself that it was still alive and well. 

At first he thought you were just one of Satoru’s new friends as you walked through the living room, shyly making your way around everyone, but then you just so conveniently looked up in his direction.

His eyes nearly widened. 

And yours actually did, looking as guilty as you should be.  

The longer you two stood there, looking at each other from across the room in shock, the guilt you had in your eyes started to fade. He was sure everyone else welcomed you back with open arms, and in turn got irritated because you probably thought he’d do the same. So before you could even think to take a step in his direction, he wiped the shock off his face and replaced it with a look that’s able to make even grown men turn around and walk the other way. 

Which is exactly what you did, stomach slowly twisting into a tight knot as you immediately began to replay the death glare he gave you over and over in your head. 

Sukuna didn’t stay long and left shortly after. Not without pretending like he didn’t know you when he said goodbye to everyone, including Kento, who he never even got the chance to say hi to in the first place. 

Shoko didn’t think that was enough to have a complete 180 in your mood. She then realized you were already quiet before that. You also decided to stay in the kitchen, where there was a wall in between you and him. 

So yeah, she blames Sukuna.

“Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?” Ieiri asked one last time as she pulled up to your apartment building. 

“Nah— my stomach just started to hurt. I don’t drink alcohol that much.” 

She still didn’t believe you, not with how big of an asshole Sukuna can be, which is why a certain someone got an earful over the phone the moment you got out of the car. He barely got a word out while she threw nothing but insults and threats so specific his way, that he had begun to believe them.

Of course Satoru felt bad! He didn’t want you to disappear again for another seven years and have it be all of his fault. So, he gives Sukuna a call, continuing the cycle of abuse started by Shoko. 

The phone rings three times. Sukuna never finishes saying hello before Satoru tries to grill him. “Alright, what did you say to her?”

“Who the fuck are you even talking about right now?”

Sukuna knows exactly who he’s talking about, Satoru can just see his face crinkling in fake disgust over the accusation because he’s just a bullshiter at the end of the day. 

“Shoko thinks you said something to her— she said she was acting all weird and shit when she came back from the bathroom.” 

“She’s already fuckin’ weird,” Sukuna scoffs. 

“So you did see her before you walked into the kitchen to say bye?” 

“Yeah, I saw her. Doesn’t mean I said anything to her though, you fuckin’ moron.”

Satoru sighs and rubs his temple, knowing he probably looked at you like he wanted to skin you alive. 

“What? Is looking at her a crime now?” 

“With the way you look at people? It should be.” It’s clearly not the first time Sukuna’s managed to simply offend someone his face with the way it comes out as a complaint on Satoru’s end. 

“Why do you even care?” 

“Don’t turn this back around on me?!”

“Then quit trying to grill me over the way I look at people. Seriously— she comes back and you all are fuckin’ babying her like she’s some victim. It’s not that serious.”

“Well Shoko—”

“Shoko can fuck off.” Sukuna cuts him off. “Don’t bother me about something stupid like this again. If she can’t handle someone looking at her in a way that she doesn’t like, maybe she should stay home and lock herself in her fuckin’ room.” 

“I– she already did!” he tries to come to your defense. “Shoko won’t tell me much, but she was going through it for years. She probably still is! She doesn’t go out at all. I tried telling you before and you wouldn’t listen.”

There’s a long pause before a disappointed sigh could be heard. Satoru could tell it was directed towards himself instead of you. “She was going through it, so she locked herself in a room for years?”

“Not literally,” he scoffs. “Look, all I know is she was dealing with depression and now she’s all anti-social because of it.”

“She should’ve fuckin’ said something then.” 

“Well, she fuckin’ didn’t.” 

“That’s–”

“If that’s an opinion, it doesn’t matter,” he cuts the man off, starting to grow impatient. Satoru has adhd— the severe, annoying kind. There’s only so much he could handle before getting the violent urge to scream out random noises. “I’m just gonna give you her number so you can talk to her if you want. Who knows, she might even open up to you more since you were the one closest to her.”

“I don’t want her n—”

“YES YOU DO.” Satoru yells, leaving Sukuna more appalled than annoyed. “I just sent it. BYE.”

click.

Sukuna glares at his phone for a moment as if it were an extension of Satoru, convinced he was dropped as a child or something and just doesn’t know it. He knows he definitely wouldn’t tell his kid if he dropped them as a baby. 

He relaxes his tensed brows and shakes his head as he pulls up the number Satoru sent. For some reason, he expected it to be your old number that he still somehow knew by heart. 

He hates that he remembers it. 

He also hates that the actual reason why you disappeared isn’t as dumb and selfish as he wanted it to be. 

. . . . . .

In the three weeks he’s had your number, he hasn’t tried reaching out. He also hasn’t accepted any invitations to hang out with anyone as a group, despite being told that you were okay with him showing up. Part of it was spite, the rest being him genuinely tired from work. 

His old man’s been taking more time off under the guise of letting him ‘take over for the day’. He acts so gracious with it, too, as if Sukuna should be thankful for the opportunity, when really, Wasuke should just fucking retire already so he can hire someone else to take his place as site manager. He’s essentially working two jobs now and when he asked for a raise, that old piece of shit laughed so hard that he damn near coughed up fifty years worth of cigarette tar.

You’d think watching his father nearly hack up an entire lung would be enough to make him quit smoking himself, but that shit pissed him off so bad that he smoked three cigarettes in a row just to calm down before going back to work. It still pisses him off. He doesn’t regret taking $50 out of that old man's wallet on his way out to cover his gas for the day. He honestly should’ve taken more. 

It’s been months since he’s gotten home at a decent time. Tonight was probably the worst thus far. 

He drags his feet into his apartment and kicks off his boots, heavy eyes landing on the clock that’s two minutes away from 10:00 pm. 

The next ten minutes are spent shoveling leftovers into his mouth, followed by a hot shower that was mainly spent just standing there, zoning out as the hot water hit his back. It’s been days since he’s jacked off, realizing it doesn’t even give him the urge, his sex drives plummeted all the way down to hell. He just wants to sleep at this point. 

Except when his head hits the pillow, he’s wide awake. It doesn’t help that he ends up scrolling through instagram— there was hardly a point for someone that barely followed anyone to begin with. 

There’s not much to scroll through. The most interesting thing being a recent post of Suguru’s night. He absentmindedly looks through them, then pauses at the 4th photo of you and Shoko with your little drinks in hand. 

You were barely smiling. 

Your lips curved just enough for the camera— nothing like the photos of you from before, grinning and laughing. That’s how he’s always remembered you.

Would it have even made a difference if he told you not to move so far away for school? It’s not like he could’ve known, you never said anything. He thought you were doing just fine and you deleted everything one day and changed your number. 

He taps the photo to see who’s tagged. Just Shoko. You still haven’t gotten back on social media, no profile to see what you’ve been up to. All he knows about you is that you moved back to the area after graduation and scored a cozy finance job without telling anyone. The only reason why you got in touch with Shoko again was because she ran into you at some bakery and made you give her your number. 

It didn’t even matter if you did have a new phone with no contacts by the time you moved back. You didn’t need to text him or call him, you could’ve just shown up. Sure, he might’ve been annoyed at first, but he wouldn’t have turned you away. 

You’ve known each other since 8 years old, you disappeared at 19. That’s his whole childhood right there. You played together, ate lunch together, walked to school together until he got a car, ditched school together. You had your own shampoo and toothbrush at his and would just use his clothes if you didn’t have a spare set with you.

It’s just dumb.

Still thinking about it, that is. It’s been years. It may have been fine to still be thinking about it at 21 or 22, but now it’s just ridiculous.

. . . . . .

You aren’t expecting Sukuna to warm up any time soon. At all, really. You couldn’t blame him for the reaction he had seeing you at Kento’s birthday. If there was one person that deserved an explanation, it was him, and you’re just about seven years too late for that. 

He wasn’t the same person you knew. You couldn’t just go up to him expecting that you’d get to have a conversation. A civil one, at least. 

It’s been years. 

And honesty, it might not even be about being several years too late. He’s a grown man, why would he care about a childhood friend that just up and left?

All there’s left to do now is to stay out of his way. You’re sure his temper’s the same and the last thing you want is to bug him. Hopefully being at a kids birthday party shields you from it in the case that you accidentally do. From what you heard, he seems close enough with Toji to know not to fuck with his sons special day. 

It’s not all bad. Toji couldn’t come to Kento’s birthday since his wife and son woke up sick that day, so you were more excited than nervous for today since you’d get to meet them. 

This time it was you that picked up Ieiri. You felt a little guilty for being the one that constantly got rides, despite having a running car of your own. Once you two got to the little park in their neighborhood, everyone was already there, including Sukuna, who was stuck having to watch his nephew that you’ve heard about through Choso. 

The biggest plot twist of all was probably learning that Jin is now technically Choso’s stepfather. You knew Choso had a teen mom, you didn’t know she was that young, though. You also had no idea how much of a milf hunter Jin was, either. 

Jin apparently didn’t know that was Choso’s mother. No one believes him, especially not Sukuna, who still looks at two like they’re a couple of fucking sickos for making him Choso’s step-uncle. 

The kid’s name is Yuji, and he looks just like Jin and Sukuna when they were kids. He’s the same age as Toji’s son, who’s turning 3 today. Yuji acts nothing like his father or his uncle. Jin was always quiet and sensitive. Sukuna was sensitive, too, but he was always very vocal about the things that annoyed him. The toddler was more like Gojo, hopped up on sugar and bouncing off the walls. 

Sukuna calls out to him like an angry mother at a grocery store, gritting his teeth as he tells the kid to, “get your ass over here, NOW,” all while Yuji pretends not to hear or see him…. up until Sukuna gets up from the bench, which is when the little boy decides to run back to him, whining about how he’s sorry and how he didn’t know. 

Megumi’s more quiet and follows Yuji around. He even ran back to Sukuna with the boy, worried that his friend's uncle was going to leave him at the park too, even though his father was at the grill just a few feet away. 

Watching the two boys play is adorable, but you try not to look too much in an attempt to avoid making eye contact with the grumpy uncle, which ends up becoming more difficult than you’d imagined. The kid eventually wore him out to the point where he managed to slip out his view. 

Yuji didn't go very far. 

“...es’cuse me?”

You feel a little tug at your shorts and look down to find an incredibly worried Yuji, who should’ve gone to an adult he knew, but here he was after quickly deciding you were the trusted adult for whatever problem he had. 

“What’s wrong?” You crouch down, getting at eye level. “Are you okay?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, pointing to his feet. “I donno how to tie my shoes.”

“You don’t?” you ask, sounding just as concerned. “Do you want me to tie them for you?” 

He pouts. “Yes, please.” 

Your heart melts at his little voice. “Aw, okay.”

Like any other kid, Yuji’s amazed at how fast adults can tie shoelaces, unable to keep up with the strings crossing and looping around each other to create the little bow at the end. 

“Yay!” He claps his hands, jumping in excitement. “We can play again, Gumi!”

Megumi thinks to celebrate with his friend, but closes his mouth right after opening it. 

Then you’re startled by a scoff made directly behind you. “You make a stranger tie your shoes and you can’t even say thank you?” 

The last to freeze is Yuji, who side-eyes him, rather than turning to face him. “Um.. ya I did..”

“No you didn’t?!” The toddler's ability to lie over something so simple amazes and offends the man at the same time. Does Yuji seriously think he’s that stupid? “I watched you lie about not knowing how to tie your shoes and then I watched you try to run off with even thanking her.” 

“I donno how to tie my shoe!” Yuji stomps a foot on the ground to prove whatever point he thought he was making. 

“Yes, you do— now thank her, before I take your shoes away.” 

“Oh no, not my shoes!”

“Yeah. Bye bye, shoes.” Sukuna snorts, clearly enjoying this. “You’re a big boy now, remember? You don’t need them.”

“Yes, I do!” Yuji whines.

“Then have some manners and say thank you.” Sukuna continues to glare at the kid while pointing at you.

“Thank you for tying my shoe,” Yuji tightly grabs the bottom of his t-shirt with both hands and bows at you, then turns to his uncle and starts whimpering. “Don’t eat my shoes, Unkakuna! I need them!” 

Sukuna’s even more annoyed now at how specific that was. “Who said I was gonna eat them?!” 

“I dunno! You eat everything!” Yuji claims, bottom lip quivering and all, making his uncle's eye twitch in disbelief. “It’s all stuck in your big belly.” 

Sukuna’s face drops, as if he didn’t see a 6-pack in the mirror this morning with his own eyes.

“I don't have a goddamn belly,” he scolds him through a clenched jaw, then lowers his tone as he begins to crouch down. “Do you want me to hit your Papa Jin?” 

“No!!!”

“Then quit acting like I eat everything in sight, you little shit.”

Yuji scratches the back of his head as he continues to whine, trying to force a couple tears out. Eventually he turns to you. “He’s gonna hit my papa with his big belly.” 

“Uh-oh. That's not nice,” you begin to laugh, all while Sukuna grumbles something about Jin being the one with love handles. 

“Papa gonna cry,” he claims, continuing to act distraught over the news, trying to get all the sympathy he can from you. “My poor papa.” 

You giggle. “I don’t think he’ll hit your papa, though.”

“He’s gonna EAT my papa!” Yuji stretches his arms out, emphasizing how big of a meal that would be for Sukuna. As if it couldn't get any worse, Yuji finds a random basketball and tries to stuff it under his shirt. “Then his belly will be big like THIS.”

“Stop it,” Sukuna snaps, pointing off into the distance behind the kid. “Get out of here before I barbecue you on that grill Mr. Toji’s using.” 

“Hey!” Yuji gasps. “You can’t do that!”

“You can barbecue anything when you have barbecue sauce, Yuji.” he informs the kid, then notices a mortified Megumi standing off to the side. “You’re next.”

“DAAAADDDDYYYYYYYY.” 

The boys run to Toji at full speed. Yuji thinks it’s a game, but Megumi’s genuinely scared, sobbing as his father picks him. His dad’s obviously confused as to why his son’s crying like someone threatened to kill him. Once Megumi’s able to actually get a full sentence out as he points right as Sukuna. 

If Megumi thought he was going to receive any sort of comfort from his father, he was dead wrong. Toji bursts out laughing and doesn’t stop, even when Megumi starts screaming and hitting him for not being more concerned over something so dire.

“Megumi says you’re not allowed to have any cake,” Toji yells out. 

“I’m taking Yuji home if I don’t get a slice.” 

Sukuna’s response has the two boys whining in the distance. 

“NO barbecue me.” Megumi glares as he tries to strike a deal with the most difficult person he’s encountered so far in his short, yet stressful life. 

“Give me three slices and I won’t barbecue you.”

“But Unkukuna, you’re belly!” Yuji rounds his arms out in front of him, emphasizing how detrimental those extra calories would be for his physique. 

Everyone grows quiet as Sukuna stares him down, wondering who the fuck even taught him that. Whoever it was better pray to god that he doesn’t find out. 

“I’m not gonna be your uncle anymore if you keep talking about my belly.”

Yuji reaches out in despair as he screams, “NOOO.”

“No? You don’t want that?” he asks, fighting back a smile. 

Yuji throws his back dramatically, shaking his head. “NO.”

“That’s what I thought,” he barks, not bothering to hide how proud breaking Yuji down with a singular sentence made him. “Now ZIP IT.”

“KAY’.” 

Yuji looks away for a moment to take a deep breath, trying to calm down, all while sneaking little peeks at Sukuna. 

He quickly looks away after seeing that his uncle’s staring at him, then peeks again. It happens several times, yet his uncle hasn’t moved a muscle once as he continues to just look at the boy like he’s better than him. 

What kind of a sick game is this? 

Naturally, he grows irritated knowing Sukuna is winning whatever game this is, which isn’t fair since he’s already going to have three slices of cake later. Even one slice was pushing it, to tell you the truth. He was too young to put into words why it pissed him off. All he knows is watching Sukuna enjoy good things, that are meant for good people, will never sit right with his spirit.

By the time Sukuna decided to stop staring at the kid as a form of psychological warfare, you had already been awkwardly standing there for quite some time, unsure if you should leave or not. It was either look rude or look too comfortable, neither of which you wanted to come off as.

Sukuna wasn’t mad at you anymore. At least not since Gojo called and told him you were and still are dealing with some mental health stuff. 

He wasn’t planning on talking to you today, either, purely because he didn’t believe he should have to apologize for giving someone a harmless look. But then he caught Yuji trying to get your attention and figured it would’ve been fine since 2 minutes with him would make anyone want to choose peace for the next hour.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking when your eyes finally met his, but at least he wasn’t giving you that same disgusted look you got at Nanami’s birthday. 

You weren’t the best at starting conversations outside of work, though, and quickly embarrassed yourself with how bad you stuttered while trying to find something to say, which ended up being an apology for tying the kids' shoe. 

In turn, Sukuna looked at you like you were a fucking weirdo. 

“What? No, it’s— that’s fine,” he waves a hand, still thrown off by the apology. “He just goes around annoying anybody he can.”

“Oh– don’t worry, he didn’t annoy me. He's adorable.” 

You suppress a laugh as he shoots you a look saying he’s anything but that. 

“He’s a pain in the ass,” he grumbles, already rubbing his eyes from how tired he is. “We passed around a baseball for an hour before coming here and he’s still running around trying to convince people that I’m a fatass.”

He has to be at least 200 pounds of pure muscle and has the ass of a baseball player, so you neither confirm nor deny the words out of fear that you’d make yourself look stupid again. “He probably just likes your attention.”

“That’s the problem— he’s probably taken 10 years off my life already because of it,” he smiles a little, obviously more fond of the kid that he lets on. 

You avert your gaze as you find yourself smiling as well. “His poor parents.”

“They have good life insurance, he’ll be set.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” you laugh with him until it dies down into another awkward silence. You’ve barely looked at him and try not to think too much about it after the realization. Having a conversation with him was surprising enough. Difficult on your end, too, but you pushed yourself. “How’ve your dad and Jin been?”

“Jin’s been good, he’s—” he huffs out a laugh, “you know he went and made Choso his fuckin’ stepson right?” He openly points at Choso, not very worried about getting caught. 

“Yeah,” you nod, just as surprised by it, more so by the fact that Choso and Yuji and brothers. 

“Well. He’s still going strong with Kaori. Just bought a house,” he struggles to list things worth sharing— aside from the mommy kink, his brother’s pretty boring. Sukuna quickly moves on to Wasuke, who he has no issue talking about. “Old man’s driving me nuts. Says he wants to retire, instead he just takes a bunch of days off and pretends he’s doing me a favor by letting me play boss while he’s gone, so now I’m doing my job and his.” 

“You’re working for the company?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah.” 

It pains him to say, remembering all that talk about him wanting ‘something of his own’ when he was younger. Now here he is, set to take over daddy’s company. 

“I mean… it’s already there,” you try to offer some words of reassurance, being the one that heard most of the said talk. “All you have to do is maintain it once it’s yours.”  

“Exactly,” his tone changes, less ashamed of pulling the nepo baby card. “I’m not tryna work any harder than I should at this point.”

“Does he pay you extra on the days he’s off, at least?” 

“Fuck no.” He laughs, even though there is nothing funny about being exploited at his grown age. “Yeah— nope— he works me like a fuckin’ dog.” 

Hence why he’s been helping himself to whatever cash is in the old man’s wallet and whatever food he has in his pantry when he visits. He makes good money to begin with, so it’s not like he can’t afford any of it, it’s just the principal. 

He’ll take Wasuke’s toilet paper, too. 

That old man has one year to either give him a raise or retire completely before couches and T.V.s start to go missing. 

“Old man’s been good, though… still kickin’,” he mutters, then stops himself before saying something really fucked up, “What’ve you been up to?”

You shrug as you let out an indecisive hum, knowing you didn’t have much to share. “Nothing really— work usually has me pretty busy.”

He’s well aware of how boring of a life you have, but still tries to push for more details. “Yeah? Suguru says you’re in finance now.”

“Mhm,” you nod, growing shy, “portfolio manager.”

“You spend the day telling people what to do now?” he asks as if he were almost impressed. 

“Not really,” you laugh. “A lot of it’s research, reporting, meeting with clients, I— yeah, I mainly just take care of more of the sensitive stuff. If my manager hat’s on, it’s usually just collecting reports from the other managers or figuring out what’s going on with their teams if they’re not performing the way they need to.” 

He nearly barks out a laugh. 

You look at him with confusion. “What?” 

“So instead of managing a bunch of people, you just terrorize their managers?”

“I don’t terrorize them,” you murmur, shifting in place. “It’s their job to make sure that their teams are performing well and if they aren’t—”

“You ask them why they aren’t doing their jobs,” he finishes your sentence with an amused grin. “Then they sit there for the next hour, trying to come up with an answer for that.”

You pause for a moment, wondering if he has to do the same. “Well— kind of.”

You don’t have time to sit there and listen for an hour, nor do you want to. The longest one went just over twenty minutes before you had to stop her. 

“Listen, Linda— I,” you stopped to think twice about what you were going to say, “I’m just asking why there’s been a dip in the performance, I really don’t need an entire life story for that. Why don’t we take a few steps back— how has your team been?”

“Well… uhm… well… they…” You nodded, thinking it’d encourage her, and it did, but 5 minutes later she went off course to talk about her failing marriage, again. “And then Dave, he—”

“Is Dave a new hire?” 

Her eyes dried right up. “No… Dave is my husband.” 

You knew damn well who Dave was, but she was starting to get on your nerves.

“Okay, let’s talk about your team right now… this is about work— Dave doesn’t work here.” You tried your best to be patient with her, but it was like teaching a kindergartener how to self regulate. “I wanna know things like how everyone’s been mentally— are they eating, are they getting enough sleep, are they taking their breaks? Are they having to work through them?”

She didn’t know. She just wanted to give you a sob story so you’d let her off the hook. So, when she mentioned Dave a third time:

“This isn’t working,” you murmur to yourself as you turn to your computer and start typing. “I’m going to make a little worksheet for everyone, including you. Think of it as a peer review. You’ll have one for each team member and each team member will have one for you. I think that’ll be an easier way to get to the bottom of things.” 

Instead of excusing herself, she stares at you like a deer in headlights.

“There’s no need to wait on me by the way, I’ll have them emailed out to everyone within the next hour.”

On the rare occasion that you do have to ask performance related questions, you send them the same exact worksheet so they have an idea of what you wanted to talk about— which is the only part you mention to Sukuna. He’d probably accuse you of terrorizing Linda when you know you could’ve been ten times worse.

You’re just glad he didn’t ask about any of the other stuff you had to do.

Sometimes you wished you spent your days in Linda’s professional shoes— god forbid you ever had to deal with a man like Dave. Her job was less demanding than yours. More human. Working with others and collaborating with them must be great in terms of keeping you grounded— normal people, that is. 

You wouldn’t consider any of the people you answer to now as normal. The stakeholders, clients, the higher ups, Yaga— they’re all fucking crazy. You couldn’t just pretend like they were normal, you had to match their energy and in some cases, you had to be worse to finish whatever job you were tasked to do, which drove you closer to their territory with each day that passed.

“Do you like it there?” Sukuna looks at you and asks, tone fond and filled with warmth, as if he were proud of you. 

In the same moment you realize that you were only fooling yourself earlier when you tried to believe that he hated you. 

You wish you could turn back time by just a few seconds to change the subject. You didn’t want to answer a question that he clearly wanted a yes to— you’re sure it’d make him feel better about knowing you chose to spend all those years alone, when you had someone would’ve easily stayed by your side. 

You grew stiff, eyes glossing at the question because you hated the real answer to it. 

“Not really,” you murmur, almost ashamed to admit it. “That’s kinda how I feel about most things, though.” 

It was true. You don’t even know why you’re wishing for a job like Linda’s, you always came off as cold and hardly spoke to others before the big promotion. 

He didn’t know what to say to that, he wasn’t even sure if there were any words you could give to someone as apathetic as you sounded when answering. It’s not like he was the type to offer anything encouraging to begin with. Instead, he stayed quiet, comfortable in the silence as he let his own mind run free for a bit. 

Just as you were starting to think you made him uncomfortable—

“Did anyone have to drag you here today?” he asks. 

“No.”

“So you chose to come to soot sprites' birthday?” he asks, as judgmental as ever.

You smile. “I did.” 

He gently rests his hand on top of your head, leaving you with a familiar sense of comfort as he leaned in. “You’re not doing too bad then.” 

“Uncle-Kunaaaaaaa!” The man looks up to see his nephew sprinting towards him. “My tummy growling!!”

“This kid’s always coming up with the most extra ways to say things,” he mutters under his breath as he pulls away. “So you’re hungry?”

Yuji slows down the closer he gets, until he’s skipping towards the man. “Yeah. Mr. Toji says he make chicken sticks.” 

Sukuna looks at Yuji the way he always does whenever the kid decides to rename something. “You mean skewers?”

“Yeah, chicken sticks,” Yuji nods, confidently repeating himself, because Sukuna was obviously wrong, even though Toji said skewers, too. Both men obviously don’t know what they’re talking about. 

The man actually looked to you for help, and given how it’s an issue between a 3 year old rage baiter and a grown man that will make time to argue with a child, you decide to stay out of it. 

“That sounds yummy,” you say to Yuji, and you could feel Sukuna glaring at you for not even bothering to call them skewers, too. “You guys should probably grab some before Suguru arrives, he loves chicken and leftovers.” 

Sukuna lets out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh since it’s true, but if anyone’s taking those skewers home, it’s him. 

Which is why he lets Yuji start to pull him away to get some. 

. . . 

Getting to talk to you more, after being pulled away from Yuji, hardly counted since it was with groups of other people. 

Luckily for Sukuna, your car’s parked right next to his and you’re leaving at the same time he’s trying to get the little brat in his car seat. He’s half asleep and won’t let go— each time he physically tries to pry Yuji off of him, he does this weird muted scream. 

He’s about 2.5 seconds away from wrestling this kid when he hears someone. 

“Bye.” 

It comes off as a little unnatural, but it’s in more of an awkward ‘I don’t know if I should say goodbye to you right now’ way. 

Sukuna turns around. “Oh, wait—” 

His hand slides into his pocket, only to find it empty, then realizes it’s in the pocket of his jacket. The side where Yuji’s on and won’t leave. You stay in the place the whole time, wondering if he’s aware of how funny he looks grumbling to himself as he checks all his other pockets. 

He eventually finds his business card, then rolls his eyes after realizing he’s about to give you a business card, because he’d rather not tell you he already has your number. To add salt to injury, he didn’t even need to pull his phone out, because the goal was to give you his number. 

“Here.” He hands the semi-decent card over for you to take, surprised it’s not more broken down since he’s always leaving them in his pockets, even when he’s throwing his clothes in the washer. “You don’t have to of course, but feel free to reach out if you’re interested in catching up sometime over lunch or something.” 

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You look at the card, flipping it over a couple times. “Um… I don’t actually… need this, though.”

He stares at you for a moment, wondering if it was just some pathetic, last minute excuse to turn him down. 

“I already have it,” you shyly admit, handing the card back to him as if it were better off going to someone else. “Satoru gave it to me a couple weeks ago. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me.” 

“Fair enough.” He shrugs, reluctant to say more— he might be down to catch up, but he’s still not apologizing for his face. “Shoot me a text sometime, then. I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Yeah, I will.” You smile a little, trying to hide a bit of the excitement that was starting to bubble up. “Alright, well— it was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

. . . . . . 

‘You’re not doing too bad.’

It took around 3 months after the words left Sukuna’s mouth to actually start believing them. 

It’s not like your life was crazy interesting now. It just slowly started to fill up with things you looked forward to over time. Whether it be hanging out with others or simply sitting in your living room with a latte you took your time making. Your apartment started to feel more like a home with each new addition you added to it. You were nowhere near done, but you found yourself enjoying the process of casually looking through items and randomly falling in love with different ones. 

The newest addition was a painting you saw a year ago and decided not to buy, despite how much you loved it. You stood in that gallery for over an hour, convincing yourself that it would never get that much attention from you again once you took it home. You were convinced that it’d find a way to collect dust in a space that felt as sterile as yours, and left it for someone that had a home where it wouldn’t. 

You found it again in a consignment store with a big coffee stain on the side of the canvas. The person who ended up buying it probably got rid of the moment it spilled. They didn’t even bother hanging it up, and most likely had it on some counter before the accident happened. By the time you got to it, it was collecting dust with dozens of other paintings leaned against the wall since they weren’t good enough to be hung up.

You paid less than a quarter of it was originally worth, but a part of you thinks you would’ve purchased it for its original price if it meant you got to take it home. You’ve thought about it nearly everyday since you stepped out of that pristine gallery, after all.  

Sukuna stared at it for a while before hanging it up. You can’t remember how the conversation started, but he came over and put it up for you after finding out you were going to do it yourself, claiming you didn’t have the right tools. You probably don’t. 

It wasn’t until the canvas was up on the wall when he finally asked the question you had been expecting to get after you caught him looking at it funny. 

“That brown stuff on the bottom corner is a part of the whole thing, right?”

“Nope.” 

He just stood there and continued staring at the damn thing with you, waiting silently for an explanation that he soon realized he’d never get on his own.  

“Are coffee stains some new trend I don’t know about?” 

He was dead serious. It was almost funny how he couldn’t believe that you’d just buy something that was stained like that. 

“Nope, not a trend.” 

He continued to stare at you, so utterly confused as to why you want that thing hung up on your wall when you could just walk into one of those art shops and buy a new one. It’s not like you couldn’t afford it, he’s seen some of the shit you own and you’re clearly not bothered by commas on a price tag. 

You eventually told him the story. He probably still didn’t get it, but that didn’t really matter. 

“How cute,” he says rather boredly, wondering why you couldn’t just tell him that in the first place. “You didn’t buy it for more than 50% of its price, right?” 

You shoot him an annoyed look. “I spent almost an entire year sulking over it, do you seriously think the price of it matters at this point? I wanted it.” 

“You probably ended up cursing the damn thing so no one else could have it. People don’t usually spill coffee on paintings.” he says, starting to laugh the longer he thought about it. 

You don’t laugh with him, but he does catch the proud look on your face as you walk away, just happy to have it. He walks after you with another question in mind, hoping now was an okay time since he always forgets. 

“Mind me asking why you’re just now starting to furnish the place?” 

You shrug. “I was just always too tired to get out of bed. If it wasn’t for work, I wasn’t getting up,” you remind him. “Too many choices to make, too. I’d get overwhelmed and stop looking for stuff.” 

“Yeah, there’s a lotta shit out there,” he murmurs, helping himself to one of the white claws in your fridge. 

The can cracks open and he takes a sip, looking over your living room that’s become a bit more filled in since the first time he came over to help you put your couch together. The place was so empty that he automatically assumed you had recently moved in. 

He’s been helpful since Megumi’s birthday— at least he tries to be. 

It never feels forced, most of the time it’s just him asking if you wanna come along to a place he was already going to, just to get you out of the house. 

He also asks how you’re actually doing, a lot— figuring you were just someone that needed some extra support, given how one lonely, difficult semester made you isolate yourself to the point where you started to believe you weren’t worth missing.

Once, he almost asked how you could’ve ever put him into that category. He loved you, both platonically and not platonically. But he never asked, the past is the past and that’s probably just how it is when someone’s spirit’s in the dumps.

He’s far from a therapist and never has any advice to give, but he was surprisingly good at getting you out of your head— pull you back to reality, without the reality check. You’ve obviously had more than enough of them. It’s why he doesn’t bother being harsh with you, at all. Even during the times he’s come off as more straightforward, you don’t feel any judgement or malice behind his words. The last thing he wanted was to say or do something that made you think you couldn’t give him a call. 

It’s probably why you’re so comfortable with having him come over and why you don’t mind telling him certain things, like the fact that you spent most of your free time sleeping at one point. He never bats an eye. He just wants to be around you, like he’s always had.

“Summers’ coming up. Getting anything for the balcony?” he asks, nodding in the direction of its doors. 

You turn your head, looking over at the empty space. “What would I even get?” 

He’s mid-sip when you ask, but hums in acknowledgment. “Some seating, a little table, maybe a fire pit if you’re feeling extra crazy.” 

You fight back a smile, “Oh? Thanks, asshole.”

“You might be a grandma, but I never said there’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“I’m trying not to be, okay.” You give him the finger as you walk to the fridge, hoping he didn’t take the last seltzer. Seconds later you’re cracking one open yourself.

He chuckles at the little pout you get on your face when you’re offended. “I’m just fuckin’ with you— you’re fine.”

“I guess,” you murmur, leaving him in the kitchen to go take a seat on the couch. 

He trails behind you, leaving enough space between the two of you as he takes a seat on the couch he nearly lost his mind trying to put together. The instructions were in a language so uncommon that most people go about their lives without knowing about it.

“What do you mean you guess?” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Kinda feel guilty for all the years I lost, I wish I could get them back.”

“I bet,” he leans back in his seat. “You ever considered making more time for yourself, now?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Taking some time off. Could be a week, could be a couple months. You could even try working part time for a little. You have a savings, I’m sure you could get away with taking a break.” 

“Oh— yeah, I have actually. The company has really good benefits, though. It’s kinda why I haven’t even tried to leave,” you turn towards him, leaning against the arm rest as you hug your knees. “I’ve been considering asking for a demotion, though.” 

You’re not quite sure how Yaga would handle that. You’ve been coming up with different ideas all month— a hybrid schedule, switching to a 4 day work week, maybe leaving early some days, a demotion. You’re sure taking on another role would have its own difficulties, but it’d be easy to handle compared to all you do now. The workload you have really should  be split between two people, maybe even three. 

“That’d definitely be a lot less work,” he remarks, still shocked at all the shit he has you do. 

“A lot less— I’m hoping Yaga agrees to one of them. If not, I might just find some place else. I could probably take a few months off then. Free time does sound nice.” 

“Yeah you could sleep in, hang out with anyone who’s free, find a hobby, go on a date—“

His last suggestion gets shut down with a laugh. “Yeah, right.” 

“What?” he smirks.

“I suck at dating,” you inform him. “I don’t even know how to anymore.” 

He snorts. “That’s a little dramatic, no?”

“It’s true— last time I went on one was three years ago.”

He raises his brows, then flatly asks, “Three?”

“Don’t judge me,” you grumble. 

“M’not. It’s just— 3 years of completely nothing?”

“God— obviously.” You hide your face in embarrassment. “You are judging me right now.”

“I’m not,” he laughs, taking another sip. “Just a long time to go without having someone take care of you.” 

"Well I slept through most of it anyway so I'm fine,” you roll your eyes, annoyed at how he’d even make a joke like that when he knows you can support yourself just fine without anyone’s help.

“You’re awake right now, though.” 

“So?” you scoff.

“I can take care of you, if you want,” he offers.

“Not funny,” you murmur, just about ready to kick his ass out. 

At first, he’s confused as to why his little offer had you that offended. Then after a minute, it clicks. Since you refuse to look at him, you miss the amused grin on his face after realizing you two are thinking about two entirely separate things in terms of ‘being taken care of’.

You only finally look at him when he gets up from where he’s sitting and there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, making you think he’s just being a dick and leaving.

Then he takes a seat right next to you, leg just barely brushing against yours.

“What are you d—”

“I think you’re a little confused here,” he says a little too calmly, throwing his arm over the backrest and leaning in way too close.

“Listen, I looked forward to hanging up that painting of yours all day, same goes for all the other stuff I’ve helped you out with.” You feel your cheeks start to warm as a result of the low, honeyed tone he’s using on you. “I really like helping you. It makes you a little happier, and with all the assholes I have to deal with everyday, it makes my day a lot better. So, why not just let me do a little more?”

“I don’t— what are you even talking about right now?” Your words come out all nervous and jumbled, failing to stay calm from how close this guy is. 

“I’m talking about all the times I’ve caught you looking at my dick print.”

Your eyes widen in horror and he laughs. 

“Yeah, you’re not slick,” he tucks some hair behind your ear and leans in closer. “C’mon— you’re not even at work right now and your mind’s still all over the place trying to find stuff to be stressed about. Aren’t you tired?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as you hesitate to answer. “I mean— yeah.” 

“Let me fuck you then,” he murmurs, tracing the backs of his fingers down your arm. “You won’t have to think about anything, won’t have to do anything— just gotta take it. Super easy. Sounds fun, huh?” 

“I… I don’t know,” you just barely whisper, shifting in your seat from all the nerves, looking like a deer in headlights.

“I think you do know.” He continues to toy with you as he waits for you to say anything else. Surprise: you never do. 

“I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

You look like you’re about to have a panic attack and it’s adorable. “Stop what?”

“This.” He smiles, pressing a soft kiss right under your ear, humming against your skin, not missing the way it makes your breath hitch. Then he presses another one on your jaw, then another, getting closer to your lips and pulling back right before he does, meeting your glazed over, half lidded eyes. 

He snakes a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in, making your lips meet his. The first kiss is slow and gentle, letting you warm up to it. You put your legs down trying to get closer, not expecting for it to grow more heated, too. 

An arm wraps around your waist and you're being pulled in to straddle his lap. His big hands roam around your hips and ass as you start to full on make out, grinding you down against something long and hard until you’re desperately panting against each other. 

He gives your ass one last squeeze before finding the bottom of your shirt and pulling it up over your head, rushing to unclip your bra and tossing it in whichever direction the shirt went. A soft gasp slips through your lips once you feel the wet heat of his pierced tongue drag a slow stripe over your nipple, not thinking much about the way Sukuna smiled at you afterwards. 

You should’ve braced yourself for the level of greed you were about to experience. 

Many minutes later, your tits are covered in spit and you’re failing to bite back moans out of self preservation. 

And it’s fucking hard. 

Sukuna’s groaning and dragging a heavy tongue over each nipple 1, 2, 3, 4 times before wrapping his lips around them and starts sucking. He goes back and forth between each, pulling away with a wet, lewd pop before moving on to the next. At first, he’d replace his mouth with his fingers— rubbing, rolling, and pinching on the sensitive bud so it’s not completely neglected while he works on the other one. 

They’re now firmly planted on your hips, because apparently he needs the extra friction. So now your shorts are soaked through and you’re trying not to cum as he continues to push you down back and forth against his cock.

Your fingers are digging into his shoulders, the moans you’re struggling to bite back come out as whines and the one thing that actually pulls one out of you is when Sukuna’s palm cracks down on your ass. 

“Come here.”

He pulls you in by the back of your neck and swallows all the little sounds you try not to make with a kiss messier than the last. 

The air's hot and heavy once he breaks it. A small string of saliva hangs on and then breaks as you pull away, already looking like a mess while trying to catch your breath.  

“Bed?”

“Yeah,” you nod, sounding more desperate. 

“Thought so,” he stifles out a laugh as he suddenly gets up, easily taking you with him as he makes the short walk to your bedroom. 

He sets you down on the mattress before pulling his shirt over his head. The buckle of his belt lightly clinks as he undoes it to take his pants off, leaving just his boxers on that leave little room for imagination. He leans forward, hooking his fingers over the waistband of your soaked fucking shorts, taking them off along with your panties in one go. 

You don’t even get the opportunity to be shy around Sukuna because he's immediately grabbing the backs of your thighs and letting out a low whistle while pulling them apart to get a good look at how wet you already are. 

“Shit— look at you,” he groans. 

Without warning, he dips his head down in between your thighs, and he licks a long, fat stripe up your slit, not missing the extra friction from the metal ball on his tongue. There’s a shit eating smirk on his face when his head comes up, teasing you as he pushes you back further up the bed to make more room for himself. 

“Told you this was fun.”

“Shut up.” You giggle as you watch him get settled back in between your thighs, only for it to die out once he dips his head back down. 

He draws a long sigh out of you once he starts to slowly lap at your sensitive clit. He goes at an unhurried pace, just barely using any pressure and you’re sure he’s just doing it to fuck with you. With the way you are right now, the lazily licks are fucking torture, making you squirm around while you clench around nothing.

The more you move, the tighter his grip around the back of your thighs gets, until you find yourself pinned in place as he finally starts to pick up the pace, adding more pressure until that metal ball starts swiping across your clit like you need it to. You focus on it, until it gets ripped away once you finally feel his tongue press flat against your hole and begins dragging heavy stripes up to your clit. 

Your breathing grows sharp and uneven, hand moving down to his head, locking strands of hair in between your fingers as drawn out moans start spilling past your lips. He goes from pressing his tongue against your entrance to pushing past it, dipping further and further until deciding to just stay there and fuck you with it.

The shallow thrusts have you squeezing and clenching, back arching off the bed, desperate for more. You nearly let out a pathetic cry when he pulls away, but then he fills the empty space right back up with not one, but two of his fingers. They’re long and thick, and he’s curling them in. The pads of his fingers rub right up against that spot inside that has you seeing stars. 

Through half-lidded eyes, you watch as he starts to pump them in and out faster, until a light squelch can be heard. “Oh fuuuck.” 

“You like my fingers?” he asks with a low, amused hum. 

You nod. “Feels so good— oh my god.”

“I bet— look at how fuckin’ soaked they are from you.” He pulls them all the way out for you to see, then stuffs them back in. He starts curling faster, thumb pressing your clit and rubbing little circles until you’re clenching and whining. “Yeahh— that’s it, show me how good that feels.”

He keeps hitting your sweet spot until something in you shifts, making you close your legs out of instinct, only for him to keep them open so he can keep going. 

“Oh my god— fuck— wait!” you cry out. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Gonna cum?” Instead of letting up, he goes faster, letting the room continue to fill up with the filthy sounds of his fingers scissoring into your cunt, pushing you over the edge until you give him what he wants. 

And he gets it quick. You let out a sharp cry as you gush around him, finally cumming after holding it in from earlier.

“Fuuck yeah, there you go,” he rasps, fingers slowing down as he works you through it. 

He waits for you to catch your breath before leaning forward and kissing you a couple times, humming with each one. 

“Tired or you wanna keep goin’?” he asks. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath as you answer. “Yeah, keep going.”

“Atta girl.” 

He pushes himself off the bed to take the boxers off and your eyes widen at his cock that’s bigger than you originally thought it’d be. It springs out of his boxers with multiple piercings and precum smeared all over his darkened red tip. 

And of course, you stare for longer than you should.

“You alright?” he asks, sounding cocky as hell, and actually having the right to be. 

Taking your eyes off feels impossible— 3 rows of barbells on the underside of his shaft right below his tip, and another one on the underside of his tip. It almost feels wrong, he’s already long and thick. 

“Yeah— I just— holy shit.” 

“I know.” He says with full confidence as he gets back on the bed and situating himself in between your legs. “Gonna be fun watching you take it.”

He grabs the backs of your knees and spreads your legs further apart, getting a better look at how wet you still are, fighting back a smile knowing it’s from him.

He gives his cock a couple pumps, then looks at you, not sure whether you’re excited or nervous. “You ready?”

You look at him, then back down to the absolute monster he has in his hand, then back up at him. 

“Mhm.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, then casually shrugs. “Alright.”

You’ll get used to it.

He runs the head of his cock through your slick folds, tapping it over your clit a couple times, making you a bit more nervous after feeling the cold metal ball from his piercing nudging at your entrance. 

He pushes in, and you both have the same reaction to how easy it slides in despite how tight of a fit it was. You take in a sharp breath as he starts to sink in, inch by inch, with no resistance, all while feeling an immediate stretch and the added friction from each piercing. 

Once he’s halfway through, he slowly starts to rock his hips back and forth and you find yourself having to bite back on a moan, realizing those piercings were also rubbing back and forth against your walls. 

“You doin’ okay?” he raises a brow, clearly enjoying the sight. 

“You’re so fucking big,” it almost sounds like a complaint.

“I am,” he hums, leaning down and caging you in with his arms. “I’m gonna push the rest in.” 

“How much is there left?”

“You’ll be fine.” 

He thrusts right in and you're letting out a shattered gasp. At the same time, he’s humming in satisfaction since he got to watch the whole thing.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, giving you a moment to get used to how stuffed you are, stealing a few kisses while he’s at it since he’s not entirely an asshole. “Remember what I said, all you gotta do is take it.” 

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s pulling out all the way and sliding back in, working up a pace as he stuffs you over and over again, dragging those small metal balls right over the spot that made your toes curl. 

It still took you a little bit of time getting used to him though, all words dying at your throat once he started to actually fuck you like it was nothing. Feeling betrayed by your body for letting him stretch you so easily like this. 

Each drive of his cock has you moaning and gasping, making you cover your mouth trying to hold them in— something he did not like since he pushed your hand away. 

Then without warning, he shoves two fingers in your mouth. 

“Mmmh— you look good with my fingers shoved in your mouth like this. Now suck.” 

You do as he says, swirling your tongue around his digit a few times before he presses them down it, making you softly moan as you sucked on them. He pulls them out with a wet pop and starts muttering in your ear. 

“Don’t cover that pretty little mouth again, alright?”

Thrust. 

“Fuck— okay,” you whine back. 

“Good girl.” He gives you another rough thrust, pulling another choked noise out of you. “Don’t try to hold out on me thinkin’ snot and tears are gonna turn me off, cry on it if you have to. I like it ugly.” 

At first you wanted to cry from how fucking mean that was, only to realize that urge to cry may have just been from that one spot he wouldn’t stop hitting, which eventually stopped being overwhelming once you finally get used to him.

“See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he asks, though it was more of a condescending remark rather than a question. “Bet this feels good now, huh?”

“It’s been a while,” you say in an attempt to defend yourself. 

“Yeah, no kidding— pussy’s fuckin’ tight,” he says all smug, getting harder at just the thought. “Feels good like this.”

He brings your legs together and throws them over his broad shoulders. Moans start to spill out of your mouth the moment he starts hitting at an angle that manages to hit your clit too. His hips crack against your ass as he picks up the pace, slick spreading past your thighs as he pounds down deeper, bed steadily rocking from all the force behind each thrust.

“Shit— look at how much of a mess you made,” he groans once the wet squelch between you becomes unavoidably louder. “Did you squirt or somethin’? You’re fuckin’ soaked.” 

“No. I don’t— nghh— who cares, just keep going.”

He looks at you in amusement, keeping the same pace as he pushes further back against your legs to go deeper, making you nearly squeal. “Is this what’s got you lying about squirting?”

“I didn’t squirt,” you say with an airy laugh. “Fuuck— just feels good.”

“Right,” he mutters slowly as he pushes back against you even more, slowing down until he’s just grinding against you. “What about this?” 

It’s a full blown mating press at this point.

“Mhm— yeahh.” Your lips curl into a small smile. “Better, actually.”

“Good,” he hums. 

He leans down to press his lips against yours while slowly picking up the pace again, soaking up all the sighs and soft moans he pulls out of you from the deep strokes of his cock, letting the base of it rub against your clit while his tip mushes against that special little spot inside.

The slow, lazy kisses go on for as long as they can, and for you, it’s when your teeth threaten to clash against each other each time his hips snap against you. By then, Sukuna’s going harder. He pulls all the way back, then drives back in— the force behind each thrust growing greater than the last.

“F-fuck— Kuna, that’s—” 

“What? Too much?”

“No, no— keep going,” you damn near start pleading with him, feeling a little bit of pressure start build. “Don’t stop— please, I think I’m gonna—“

Your cunt stretches helplessly around him, feeling every inch and vein he stuffs into you over and over again as he fucks you with reckless abandon. The sight’s nothing but obscene as he fills the room with the sounds of him pounding you senseless. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, honeyed and condescending. “Can’t take it?”

“I don’t– fuck– I don’t know.” Your words are cut off by sharp sudden gasps, feeling something unfamiliar build up. It’s not until he gives you one particularly rough thrust when tears start streaming down your cheeks. 

“You poor thing.” If you hadn’t known any better, he sounded quite pleased with himself. He leans down to lick a fresh tear streaming down your cheek before going back to business. “Look at you, getting fucked so good that it’s making you cry. You’re probably close, aren’t ya?” 

You take in a sharp breath, wondering how bad it would be if you did. You already thought you came. Instead, Sukuna’s right and he’s letting one of your legs back down, leaning in close and cradling your head while he continues to absolutely ruin you. 

“Cum for me,” he murmurs. His fingers trail down to your clit and starts rubbing over it with just the perfect amount of pressure, making clenching like fucking crazy. “Thaaat’s it— c’mon. Give it to me.”

He drags his heavy cock all the way out with a wet schlick, then slams back in— again and again and again— pushing you over the edge until your nails are digging into his back and you’re breaking out into a cry. 

You’re gushing around his cock and he keeps drilling into you like he’s trying to work as much as he can out of you— just powering through it. This is the hardest you’ve ever cum in your life, you’re fucking sobbing and he’s just encouraging it with the way he licks a stripe up your cheek, groaning about how fucking hot you look crying on his cock. 

“Oh my g-god— I-I can’t— ffuck it’s too much—” your nails start to claw down his back as he drives you into overstimulation. 

“I know— I’m so fuckin’ close,” he husks out, and you can tell he’s not entirely all here anymore. “Shhiittt almost there— keep squeezing me like that, baby— yeahh just like that,” his hips desperately slam into you, deep groans start to rumble out of his chest as he chases his own relief. “Fuck— ffuuck.”

He lets out the most drawn out guttural groan once it hits him. He slams in, burying his cock deep inside of you and flooding your walls with so much cum that it starts to spill out while he grinds every last drop of it out. 

He pulls out but keeps you caged in underneath you, pressing lazy kisses against your lips with short uneven breaths in between, skin damp and glistening from sweat. It takes a moment to come back to reality, and for someone that doesn’t even know where to start, you’re surprisingly comfortable with the silence between you. 

It eventually ends, though. You’re the first to break it. 

“Did you still want me to go out on those dates you were talking about?” 

Immediately he lets out a breathy laugh. “If you don’t mind me trying to fight them, then sure.”

. . . . . . 

Six Months Later 

You walk step inside Sukuna’s office, giddier than usual with the small pink cake you bought after handing in your resignation letter to Yaga. His feet are kicked up on the cherry oak wood desk and you doubt he’s doing anything work related. But he’s the boss, who’s going to yell at him? He does sit up straight once he sees you, though, ready to hear the news. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to hear it right away since you just had to look at the wall shelves and catch sight of something that wiped the smile off your face. 

“Why is Yuji’s face crossed off in that photo?”

He rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, it’s whiteboard marker.” 

“But why would you do that?” you continue to interrogate Sukuna, because unlucky for him, you two are the best of friends now. 

Jin visited him earlier today and brought Yuji along. He started off the visit strong by pointing to Sukuna and asking his father ‘Does Uncle have a reezding hairline, too?’ and eventually took a look at the protein snacks he had in the corner, which made him look Sukuna up and down, and go “you eat too much.”

Sukuna rubs his temple as he grows annoyed again. “He called me fat and bald, so I told him we weren’t family anymore and crossed his face out to prove it.”

Despite the words that come out of Yuji’s mouth, the kid loves him in all of his grumpiness. 

“So you made him cry?” 

Yuji cried so hard that started dry heaving and nearly threw up. “No,” he grimaces. “He just pouted and said sorry.” 

The apology being, ‘No, PLEASE! I’m sorry, I'm SORRY,’ and, ‘I LIED— huhuhuhu my tummy hurts, yuji gonna frow up— I’m sorry’.

You look at him rather suspiciously as you grab a couple forks from his little snack station in the corner, but let it go this time. 

He takes your silence as an opportunity to change the subject completely. “How’d your boss take the news?” 

“Oh my god, he was distraught,” you reveal, still surprised over how panicked he looked when you turned in your resignation letter. 

He waves a dismissive hand, believing it’s the least he deserved for not trying to meet you halfway when trying to cut some of your hours down and refusing to demote you. 

“You’ll forget all about it after sleeping in tomorrow,” he reassures you before taking his first bite of cake. 

“Yeah— I,” you give a nervous laugh, “okay, so about that.” 

He stops chewing and just stares at you. 

“I’m gonna stay with them.” 

“What?” he almost snaps. “We’re going on vacation in a few weeks. I— what the fuck? What did you get a fuckin’ cake for then?!”

“We’re still going! He’s giving me that time off.”

“How charitable of him.” He snorts out a bitter laugh, then goes back to be mad. “I thought you hated that fuckin’ place?!”

“I did! But he offered to shorten my hours and said I could work from home.” 

That piece of information does nothing for Sukuna, who is grumbling profanities under his breath, acting like he’s the one being forced to stay there. His words start going in one ear and out the other after telling yourself he’ll get it eventually, and take a bite out of the victory cake since you also got a small raise, despite the decrease in hours. 

“Are you listening?”

“What?” you look up and ask, still chewing on the food. 

“Tch– nothing.” Sukuna takes his aggression out on the cake by stabbing the damn thing when getting more. “He shoulda’ given you all that before you tried to quit if you were that important. Hell— he shouldn’t have dumped all that work on you in the first place.”

“He’s a greedy old man that’s hungry for money,” you remind him. “What else would you expect from him?” 

Sukuna’s delusional and does this thing where he just assumes the world sees you the same way he does, and then when it doesn’t, he gets offended. Last week at the grocery store, someone reached for the produce in front of you and he snapped at them for not saying excuse me. Then he snapped at them again for not having any patience, given how you would’ve eventually moved.

“Whatever,” he gets up from his seat to grab a water from the mini-fridge and takes a sip, but before sitting back down, he stops next to you and gets at eye level. “If Mr. Crabs calls you while we’re gone, I’m ripping that phone out of your hand and cussing him the fuck out, you hear me?”

You suppress a laugh. “Loud and clear.” 

“Good,” he says, stealing a quick kiss from you. “Proud of you.”

The sincerity in his tone pulls a smile out of you. “Thanks.”

He glances at the door, notices it’s locked, then places a hand on your thigh when the sudden realization that there was no one that could fire him hits him. 

He gives it a squeeze. You already know what he’s thinking.

“Seriously? You can’t wait until we're at home?”

“I’ll make it quick.”

“…yes,” you whimper.

“Then fucking arch it.”

You sniffle. “Okay.”

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

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

It has his attention now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… I don’t know—“

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready to go again?”

“Yes,” you whisper, earning another bite from the annoying little jerk behind you. He's practically rutting against your ass and whimpering like a little bitch, but Sukuna can feel how slick you’re getting. “Mnh!”

His rough fingers are brushing over your clit, eliciting a soft little sigh of pleasure from your lips as he begins to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, twitching against him in response. His cock is leaking at the sounds of you, the feel of you, the very scent – as if every bit of you was made to drive him insane.

Sukuna was semi-normal before he met you – he had girls in and out of his bed, but nothing special, nothing serious. Enough to get his cock wet and watch a pretty girl gush down him, he couldn’t really tell you their names, either. He likely was the same level of whore Satoru was.

But, the huge difference?

If he had you as a wife – he would have never done anything with another woman. Even if it was pushed on him, and he wanted to rebel like Satoru did, in no world could Sukuna not want you – not since you walked right into that gym.

Everything changed the moment he caught sight of you.

You lean up and kiss him now, he moans into your mouth in a way that’s utterly pathetic, but it’s simply the effect you had. One that terrified him – because you weren’t even trying, you didn’t even know what you did to him, or clearly to Satoru who is lying right behind you, shifting closer as Sukuna’s tongue slips into your mouth, even in the fucking morning you taste good.

“Hey,” Satoru murmurs against your ear when you pull back, cupping your face, making Sukuna pause his little circles for a moment.

He’s still here.

Shit.

"Don't I get a good morning kiss?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, needy enough to annoy Sukuna to death.

“Mmm, I guess you could get one,” Sukuna smirks, kissing your pretty tit again, continuing his circles and making you tremble.

“Just one? So generous, sweetheart.”

“It is generous,” you turn your head, and his lips move over yours – he has seen it before, but now it’s different than that first time. He’s kissing you with a desperate need, his hand sliding down your back, over the curve of your ass, and between your legs from behind.

You gasp out loud, and Sukuna can literally hear that squelch, your slutty lil cunt taking him in.

Sukuna wishes it turned him off, that he didn’t love feeling you move between the two of them, that he doesn’t find that string of saliva between your mouths attractive.

Maybe it’s just you.

Maybe you’ve ruined Sukuna – not in the way you think, ‘ruining his life’ with your own situations, no.

You’ve ruined the man altogether.

He snatches you back by your chin, kissing you again, harder, deeper, pinching your clit between two fingers and making the filthiest noises escape your lips, Sukuna swallows them up as he hears Satoru’s fingers move inside. He’s annoyed when they brush against him, but not enough to stop his cock from twitching.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs softly, and you eagerly obey, making him smirk just a little bit. “You’re a needy girl, aren’t you? Can’t get enough cock inside?”

“Please,” your whisper is sweet – as if you’re asking for sugar in your coffee, nothing like what was really happening.

Two men fucking you, two men who can’t take how much they want you, two men who would do anything to have you all alone, but yet…

Here they are.

Sukuna groans when your hand slips down his chest, underneath the dress shirt, fingertips gliding up his abdomen and making it tremble. Sukuna – the man who isn’t afraid of shit, who’s beaten up so many people he can’t remember, the man who told his family to fuck themselves – here he is falling apartfrom nothing but your touch.cting as if he’s got it together.

An act.

It was all an act to seem dominant, to seem like he’s in control.

It’s terrifying to realize he has none when it comes to you.

****

You

You’re moaning into Sukuna’s mouth, only to get tugged back to Satoru, the push and pull maddening as two of his long, slender fingers press against your entrance, sliding in with embarrassing ease, you’re so ready. To have them both on you was unexplainable, how ready you were, how needy you were for them both, how their lips moved, their fingers.

All of them.

Sukuna doesn't stop his pretty little patterns on your clit, Satoru’s curving and hitting a new spot from the angle, Sukuna’s tugging your thigh over his hip – spreading you wider. You should feel some sense of shame, some shyness at this, but the only way you really can feel is needy, pretty, desired.

More than that.

It’s the definition of insanity to have them tugging you back and forth for kisses, two men that hated each other long before you came along, both playing your body. The dual stimulation is overwhelming in its intensity, your hips rocking back and forth – to Sukuna on your clit, to Satoru in your slutty little hole.

You want more.

"Greedy little thing," Sukuna chuckles, his voice thick with his lust, kissing down your collarbone, your shoulder, his teeth sharp when they bite you right where Satoru has – as if he wants to make sure you’re marked even more.

"Taking my fingers so well, sweetheart,” Satoru whispers against your ear, his voice maddening, their touch driving you to arch and rock more, the sounds of your pussy echoing with that wet squish and click as they work you. “You love it, hmm? Both of us playing with your slutty little pussy?”

“Mnh,” you don’t answer that, your head falling back against Satoru's shoulder as they work your body together. Sukuna's fingers are rough with calluses, pushing harder and faster against your clit, while Satoru's long, elegant ones fuck into you faster, curling perfectly against that little spongy spot that has you dizzy.

Their heat presses into your skin from both sides, scents surrounding you.

Sukuna’s rich, dark musk– Satoru’s bright– hints of bergamot, the smell of the hints of your arousal sweet and mixing with the two of them as they touch you in tandem, finding a maddening rhythm.

You can't form a single word, nothing coherent, at least – just mumbles and gasps slipping from your swollen lips look into ruby and then azure eyes, both dark with desire.

How could you not feel beautiful, wanted when they look at you like this?

"Look at her," Satoru murmurs against your neck, his fingers pumping in and out of your slick heat with a mean precision he shouldn’t have.

He may not be able to eat pussy yet, but the man sure could use those fingers, they're so fucking long when you arch they hit your puffy cervix, making you cry out, clamping down on him.

"So fucking pretty, hmm?” You feel your cheeks heat up as Satoru whispers, both men kiss against your skin, having you tremble between them, 

Sukuna hums in agreement, his free hand coming up to cup your titty, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple.

"Fuckin’ perfect," he says, the claim clear in his voice, the possessive way he touches you, takes you over.

Addictive. 

You're addicted to them.

The pleasure builds higher, that ache in your core spreading, veins burning like you're on fire from their fevered touches, from their fingers brushing against each other, working you together as if they both just know.

Your hands clutch at Sukuna's broad shoulders, your nails digging into his skin and earning a hiss as your orgasm is about to hit, so overwhelming you can't breathe. Caught in your throat, heart hammering in your ears, that blood rushing. 

"That's it," Satoru whispers, his voice breathy, so intimate as his long fingers are moving faster, pushing you over the edge. "Cum for us, pretty girl."

Pretty girl.

Cum for them.

With a cry you do just fucking that – you shatter, falling apart for their hungry gazes, your cunt convulsing around Satoru's fingers. When that orgasm hits, you can’t even see, your vision blurry as that pleasure makes you dumb. They don't stop – no, they keep just working you through your orgasm, until you're falling into another, and their fingers are slipping.

"Good girl," Sukuna praises, pulling his fingertips off, glistening with you, Satoru does the same, sucking them right off, simultaneously. “How do you want it?”

“I get to pick, hmm?” You bite your lip, tugging up Sukuna’s shirt, so your hand can slip under, brushing over his hard abdomen.

“You can pick which hole I’m in,” you gasp at that, hearing even Satoru chuckle a bit behind you.

“Or pick which I’m in.”

“You both wanna fuck my ass, really?” You look between them then, feeling their heat behind you, Satoru’s already sliding his wet, spit soaked fingers up there, two teasing your ass and pressing. “Oh f-fuck…”

“Even tighter there, god,” he buries his face against your neck as you feel the stretch, Sukuna’s tugging his cock out of his pants, letting it slap his abs, leaking pre and dripping, while Satoru works you faster, fingers buried deep inside.

“We could fuck you just like this,” Sukuna says, kissing up your collar bone, tugging your thigh high up allowing his cock to tease your slit, all the while Satoru is loosening your ass up, hitting some spot that has you whining out. “Gojo, I know you have lube, don’t fuckin’ do that without it.”

“I wouldn’t,” he mumbles now, and you peek back at him.

“Do you have lube?”

“Like twenty bottles,” you and Sukuna laugh, and he scowls. “What!?”

“Twenty!?”

“Sukuna… it’s next to you,” Satoru says, biting your neck again, you gasp at the sharp pain. Sukuna eases back and bends over, tattooed back on full display for your gaze, getting even more blurred with every pump of his fingers.

“Fuck – you have a drawer full!? Flavored?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles – you’re giggling too. “Sorry I’m prepared?”

“Do you own stock in Astroglide?”

“I actually do but,” he glares again at Sukuna. “Just get one.”

“Of course you do,” Sukuna lays on his back and taps his lap, you bite down on your lip nervously, straddling him, your slick dripping down his cock, his lips catching yours in a mean little kiss, hands gripping your hips possessively, making you remember his filthy words in the locker room.

“Would breed you over and over, fuck… imagine.” 

Satoru squirts a generous amount of lube on his fingers, kneeling behind you as Sukuna lifts you up, your hands bracing on his chest, sinking inch by inch onto his thick cock, gasping out as it fills you up. “Mngh…”

“Love watching myself,” he mumbles, ruby eyes dark, his hand sliding over your tummy, pressing so he can feel his cock print move from outside. “What would you do if I got her pregnant first?”

“You won’t,” Satoru smirks as he fingers your hole again, something intimate and careful with how he’s working you, sighing and closing his eyes, nuzzling against your neck. “I put so much into her last night, you know.”

Sukuna’s hands squeeze hard now, you suck in a breath at just how hard and bruising of a grip he gives you. “Ah!”

“Oh yeah?” He eyes the mess you’re making when he lifts you up and down him. “Bet I put more in her today.”

Satoru’s working you looser and looser, until it starts to feel so good, and never did you think you’d be sandwiched right between the two men – two men at all, you – a good girl before, raised to be obedient and subservient, riding your boyfriend’s cock, while your husband is stroking his cock. You hear his little intake of breath when his tip nudges your ass, then, slipping up and down, squirting even more lube.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks then, as you tense just a bit – there’s no mocking or cruelty, not when he cups your face, nose brushing against yours, lips a breath away, pressing. “Need more work up?”

“I wouldn’t know,” you admit, gasping when you feel your clit being rubbed, seeing Sukuna’s thumb working, having you gush down his cock.

“Focus on this,” he says, soft almost, you lean forward a bit.

“Arch,” Satoru orders, you listen just like you did last night – body on some instinct, greedy and wanting to be full of them both. His tip nudges right past that tight little ring, you’re stretched in the sluttiest way, then. “Look at me.”

“Mmm,” you barely manage to look as he turns your chin to face him. “Satoru…”

“Relax, don’t wanna hurt you,” his words are quiet and breathy as he kisses you, hands on your waist, as Sukuna’s are on your hips. Four hands, twenty fingers, all touching you together.

“Feels good,” you admit – it does, the pain, the burn when he moans and eases in just a bit more, and Sukuna tugs you down, your hair falling like a curtain to the side, that shirt you’re wearing slipped up and thrown over your head, baring you to both of them. “Kuna…”

“You’re takin’ us so good,” his praise has you dripping more, Satoru’s thickness stretching you to the point of tears, you’re sniffling as he leans back, pulling out and then sinking just a little deeper. “Made to be filled, huh? Bred in all your holes?”

“Y-yes,” with Sukuna you’re like this – sweet, agreeing, but you know if Satoru asked, you’d be a brat – you wouldn’t admit it, but how easy and gentle he is back there has your mind fuzzy. You peek back, biting your lower lip as he eases into your unused hole again, his blue eyes bright as they look at you.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, pausing as he sees your tears, you shake your head, sniffling.

“J-just stay for a minute,” you whisper, nails pressing into Sukuna’s chest, Satoru’s fingertips slip down your spine soothingly, as he nods, and you try to relax, having Sukuna turn your chin to have you kiss him again.

Are you really this greedy, that you’re going to have them both cum inside? That you’re going to have them ruin your holes, that you love the way they’re both touching, kissing, moving inside?

You are.

*****

Satoru

Satoru watches you, your back is arched against him with your hole being split apart by his cock, slick with that lube – he pours even more, sinking into that tiny hole again. Gripping him like a vice – his own baby blue eyes are rolling back in his skull every time he sinks just a little deeper into you.

But it's more than that, more  than just how tight you are – how fucking good you feel, how pretty you are drooling, with your tears.

No – it’s the feeling of you against him, the way you trust him enough to let him take you this way, to let him take this from you – your first time there, knowing he doesn’t even deserve it. Doesn’t deserve anything, yet you still do – if he was a better person he’d tell you that you should leave him, be with Sukuna who clearly fucking adores you, it’s written on his dumb face.

Yet how can Satoru do that when he’s fallen so fucking far? When you have sunk into his mind, his body, fuck – last night you spit in his mouth – you choked him as you fucking rode him, used him. Satoru Gojo, always dominant, was falling apart underneath you as you used his cock to come again and again.

If he didn’t love you before, he knows he does when he catches sight of you kissing Sukuna, of him that close to you, holding and touching you like that? It should turn him off, sharing you, but he wants you so goddamn bad it doesn’t.

If anything it makes Satoru want to work that much harder to fill you, to wrap an arm around your waist, burying his face for just a moment and inhaling that scent mixing with Sukuna’s. He wishes that turned him off too, but if anything he wants to fuck you that much better, to ruin you on his cock till you’re babbling and dumb.

Every time Sukuna thrusts up into your cunt, you clench around his cock, making him tense up, trying not to bust. He pumped three loads into your cunt last night but he couldn’t stop from his balls getting heavy again, maddening the effect you have on both men without knowing, just looking back at him in the way that makes him ache.

Satoru leans back and spits on his length as he pulls back, tip coated in the glistening lubricant – you don’t even need it, he just wants to watch his bubbly spit sink inside you, feeling you tense up again, his lips moving as he stays still, letting Sukuna move your body.

“You all right?”

“Y-yes,” you whisper, leaning back against him again as he presses forward, his lips against your ear. Not just possessive, these feelings – they’re protective, which should be laughable.

Imagine Gojo protecting you when he was the one who hurt you.

Yet he can’t help it, as he eases in and out, feeling that tight fit, the little clenching as you stretch around him. Satoru wants to ruin you as much as he wants to fix what he fucking did, wants you to fall apart so he can put you back together. Even he has never felt anything close to it, to take it so easy with a girl like he was right now.

Of course he hates that Sukuna is here – hates the smug look on his face as he watches you, the way his hands are all over the very body Satoru wants to possess entirely, the way his cock is already inside your cunt. How he got to take you first, claiming a part of you Satoru couldn’t have.

He feels that – the fucking rage as much as he feels that heady desire, the need to pump you full, mixing with the maddening urges to kiss you.

It’s too much, when you look at him like that, with your lidded eyes and your lashes lowered. Your lips parted. You turn your head, face flushed and tears trailing from the corners of your eyes right down your pretty cheeks, irises all fucked out and glittering in a way they shouldn’t for him, as he sinks even deeper.

"Satoru..." Any irritation about how Sukuna grabs you just... melts, when you look at him like that – when your voice trembles, and your lips reach out for a kiss. Satoru does kiss you, trying to pour all the fucking feelings he has that he can’t say for shit, knowing it would hurt you both.

What he feels for you – what he did to you, what he regrets, how fucking furious he is at Sukuna, the overwhelming feelings he has for you, all spilling as he shoves his entire cock inside you, feeling Sukuna through you, as he pauses too, letting you try to take all of him.

“Ah! Too much,” you mumble, thighs shaking, the two men rubbing your thighs gently, brushing your hair back, murmuring your name.

"Relax, don't wanna hurt you," he murmurs against your lips, forcing himself to halt despite every cell in his body screaming to move, to fuck into your tight little hole until you forget your own name, but he forces himself to be gentle, to kiss across your neck and stay there. “Just breathe, yeah?”

“If it’s too much…”

“I can take it,” you whisper now, letting Sukuna lean up and kiss you, messy as you relax underneath their touches. “It’s a lot…”

“You’re doing such a good job,” Sukuna tells you, Satoru’s grip tightens just a bit for a moment, still buried and not moving, until you arch back just a bit, whining out and turning to him again, kissing Satoru in a way you really shouldn’t.

Spitting in his mouth was really already better than you should give him, but sweet kisses as you trust him, as he works you open carefully, his fingers running soothing little circles down your waist, letting you get used to it – never has he felt like this, just fucking or even sharing.

This is different from last night, even, so intimate Satoru himself is trembling inside of you – when you finally give a shaky nod for him to move again, he waits for the okay, feeling you grip him. He can feel Sukuna's thick cock through the thin wall of your body, and the friction is maddening whether he wants to admit it or now, every time Satoru pushes in, Sukuna pulls out.

The two men somehow work you perfect despite hating each other, Sukuna will fuck your pussy with filthy, loud smacks as Satoru waits, then he’ll rub your clit and pin you down, and Satoru will move. He’s easier with you, careful, reaching around to take over rubbing your clit while Sukuna sucks your pretty nipples into his mouth, seeing that bulge move.

Satoru knows his eyes are locked on your stomach, dark, black with desire.

He’d be dumb not to notice that man worships you to the point of insanity, but how could he not?

The two men take over your body as you fall apart between them, gushing down Sukuna and clamping down when you shatter.

You’re mumbling their names as he watches your pretty face, sees you losing yourself to it, head falling back on his shoulder, mouth open and slack, drool just spilling as they both take you over. 

"Look at you," Sukuna groans, his eyes locked on where your bodies are joined, where your slick is pooling down his belly button. "Taking both of us so fucking well. Your greedy little holes are just sucking us in, huh?"

“Mngh,” his words make you clench around him and Satoru, making both of them let out slutty little moans. “Feels s’good I…”

"Feel that?" Satoru murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, leaving goosebumps on your skin, his words so quiet only you can hear. "Feel how deep I am? Can you, sweetheart?

You answer with a little nod, Sukuna sits up, working your body, both men fucking you faster, the sounds utterly debauched in Satoru’s room.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” you barely whisper. “Yes, c-can feel you…”

“Took this first, hah,” he’s toxic then, but you don’t scowl or argue, letting him be possessive. “He got your pretty lil cunt, yeah? That’s okay, baby, I’ll fuckin’ ruin you till you forget him.”

“Mnh…”

Satoru’s lost in you, hearing Sukuna mutter just about the same as he is, the two men pushing and pulling till they cum inside both your holes, filling you so full, you’re dripping in a little sheen of sweat as they ease out, both of those holes stretched and drooling white. Satoru gathers the mess and toys with you where you’re sensitive, feeling you twitch between them as you come down, and they’re both kissing you carefully, soothing you.

Satoru has never felt whatever the fuck you do to him, but every time it’s more intimate – it’s more intense, his snowy lashes fluttering against your neck as his breaths rush on your skin.

“Am I getting breakfast?”

“Sukuna!” You giggle and Satoru snorts, rolling his eyes.

“How can you think of breakfast with her here like this?” Satoru’s words make you pause a bit, your hands gripping his wrists tightly, leaning back just a bit.

“Well I’m hungry, fuck I just had a match,” he chuckles at your little look. “Do I have to order?”

“I’ll cook, I just need help getting up so I can clean off,” Sukuna picks your ass up and carries you toward the bathroom, and your eyes meet Gojo’s, biting down on your lower lip as you study him, before burying your face.

That look.

******

Sukuna

“So,” Sukuna looks at you as you box in your cute little pink gloves, focusing by worrying your lower lip, your eyes looking up to him now.

“So?” You ask, stopping the punching and resting a bit on the bag, Sukuna can see the muscles forming in your arms from all your work, he wants to trace the bicep there but you’re around people.

That’s when it hits – the truth, the real fucking pain that cuts him, when he’s not lost inside you or alone with you. Even alone with Satoru, he can be with you how he wants, but in public?

There was nothing you two could do to rouse any suspicion, even in the gym he tried to keep it formal, until he could finger your pretty cunt in the locker room, until he could steal a kiss until you’re breathless. The two of you are achingly careful. Trying to appear that you’re just friends, especially with you having been spotted at the boxing match – though luckily no one saw you actually with Sukuna.

Yet the pain of knowing Satoru could touch you and hold you all he wanted ate him alive, that he could just be so close, and no one would ever say a thing. You were his wife, you had his last fucking name – Gojo.

Your last name was Gojo.

And with every encounter, he can tell the feelings for Satoru grow, though he can feel them growing for him too, he can tell every time you’re near him you’d do anything and everything. It would take him to softly tell you to leave Satoru, and you’d figure it the fuck out for Sukuna – you gave him everything.

That’s why he couldn’t take the choice away from you.

“What is it, Kuna?” You ask now, your dumb little nickname he loves so goddamn much, he sighs, stepping closer and turning you, acting as if he’s guiding you into a good form when all he wants to do is touch you.

“You wanna work here?” You giggle at that, looking back at him. “I’m deadass – why are you laughing?”

“I’d love to work here, what!?” You keep giggling, losing your form until Sukuna chuckles a bit, shaking his head. “Doing what?”

“You can help me run numbers, it’s not my best. Wasn’t that your degree?”

“You know what I graduated in?” You ask, blinking a bit – Sukuna has to remember you have no clue the deep dive he did on you.

He could be called obsessed.

Sukuna couldn’t help but want to know every fucking bit about you – including that you were top of your class in business, he’s sure your parents made you take those courses, but your GPA was impeccable. You’re blinking a bit as his hands go to your shoulders, positioning them.

“You wanted to work, you told me before…”

“I do! I’m so nervous, I never have. Is that insane?”

“No, it’s just you weren’t ever supposed to,” he breathes out now. “I wasn’t supposed to beat the shit out of your parents either, but…”

“Kuna!”

He grins as you elbow him playfully. “I’m also not supposed to fuck married women, hmm?”

“You’re awful,” you pout now, shoving him and then realizing people are still around, even if the gym is closing. “You can’t say that so loud.”

“I’d love to fuck you right here,” you suck in a breath. “But I can’t even fucking touch you, can I?”

You blink back tears for just a moment, stepping back as if you were slapped, Sukuna curses, shaking his head. “I need to…”

You step away, rushing off as he realizes what he’d just said – he hadn’t meant for those words to spill, he’s not some emotional man – fuck, before you he had no relationships. No cares other than who would be sucking his cock, maybe who would entertain him for a few months, but nothing was like this – maddening, insanity, the need for more of you.

When you weren’t even his.

Sukuna tries to give it a moment so it doesn’t look more suspicious, before walking back, tugging you into his office before you can make it to the locker room, shutting the door behind you. “Don’t run away, brat – I didn’t mean it bad towards you, okay?”

“I hurt you,” your whisper breaks him, your lips trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks, taking several shaky breaths as he cups your face, and your hands come to his wrists, those gloves falling to the floor off your arm. “I do hurt you.”

“Stop worrying about me,” you sniffle, tears falling, shaking your head again. “I fucking swear to god, you’re going to get your ass beat until it’s covered in my handprints, actin’ like a brat.”

“Stop trying to cheer me up,” your eyes shut now, tears falling. “I just hurt both of you. Don’t I?”

“No, and why the fuck do you care if you hurt him anyway?” Sukuna tilts your chin up now. “You aren’t the one hurting me.”

“You are hurt that you can’t touch me, like this…” you put a hand on his chest. “That we have to sneak around.”

“It’s just… fuck this,” he pulls back, cursing – hating the simpering mess you’ve made of him in the short time, walking towards his desk with his hands on it, feeling you walk up, a hand on his back gently. “Just go.”

“Do you really want me to go? Or do you want me to work for you?” He sighs, looking back at you, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face against him now. “I want to work with you.”

“Don’t.”

“Sukuna!”

“Just go home,” you bury your face again. “Confusing little brat. Swear to god you annoy the shit out of me sometimes.”

“You love it,” you mumble. “You love me.”

“Yes I love you,” he sighs and tries to disentangle himself, switching your positions so you’re pressed on his desk now, cupping your face. “Love you so much I let that dumb, white haired fuck have you too.”

You take a little breath, sighing now, as he tugs your shorts up your thighs, hands on your ass, lifting you like it’s nothing and propping you on the desk, he leaned low. “I told you that this is enough for me.”

“Is it?”

“I love you, Sukuna,” he looks down at you, tilting your chin up.

“What do you feel for Gojo, then?”

“It’s so complicated, I don’t… I feel too… there’s too much, the two of you, splitting me in half. I feel like I’m only giving you half of me, and you deserve a whole person.”

He pauses then, letting your tears fall. “You think I wouldn’t take half of you over any other person?”

“How’s it fair to you?”

“I want your half, your whole, every little piece I can get,” he laughs now, cruel as he grips your chin too tight. “I can’t not fucking have you and you exist.”

“Then why do you push me away?”

Sukuna says nothing, kissing you now, a softer kiss than he ever gives you, letting you sigh into his mouth. “I’m not.”

“You told me to go,” you kiss him back, thighs pressed on either side of his hips. “I don’t want you to hurt over me.”

Sukuna can’t take thinking of not having you, he can’t think of you finding your feelings for Gojo to be more than him, to lose you to him – to lose you altogether. Better for him to have the part in it, the control over the woman he can’t stand the thought of ever not seeing – fuck, even a night without you was torture.

“You’re fine, brat… was just thinking,” your lashes flutter shut as he studies you, calloused thumb brushing your lip. “Too loud, didn’t mean to say the shit.”

“I don’t want us to be a secret either,” you admit, eyes opening slowly now. “As for right now, I can’t see a way to-”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” he lies, and you clearly know it, tears spilling again, making him tense. “Stop crying, now.”

“You can’t just tell me to stop!?”

“Yeah I can, you listen to what I say,” you bite your lip hard, Sukuna tugs it out from your teeth. “You haven’t done shit wrong. Aside from letting him fuck your ass before I got to.”

“Sukuna!” You giggle even through your tears, and he scowls. “Are you serious right now?”

“Very, should have been me,” he kisses you, pressing your back against his desk, hand gripping yours, lips moving down your throat as your hands find their way to his rosy locks, entangling in them. “All of your firsts should be me.”

“You got my throat, my… pussy,” he laughs at how cutely you say that, like it shouldn’t be said. “What!”

“You’re adorable,” he mumbles, leaning up and kissing your cheeks, as the affection and protective way he feels ruins him further.

Sukuna is so in love it makes him fucking sick.

“You got those, you’re so greedy you wanted that too?” You tease, trying to hold it together, clearly, Sukuna hums, tilting his head, as his necklace dangles against your skin, you touch it carefully between your fingers, eyes dazed.

“I wanted your first kiss too,” he admits softly, nuzzling your nose. “I want to be the first for everything, yes – I don’t care if it’s toxic. I want to get you pregnant, want you to be my fucking wife.”

“Sukuna…” You gasp now.

“I know that’s not happening, not yet…” he says quietly, kissing you deeper, needier. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Doesn’t mean I won’t take it the very moment that dumb little shit fucks up, I’ll take you away from him so goddamn fast. Make you disappear."

“Y-you… mngh…” He’s kissing down your chest, as he loses his mind, huge hands taking over your pretty tits, squishing them as he grinds himself against you, feeling your heat. “Disappear?”

“Tell your parents you died, take you the fuck away,” he sighs now, nuzzling your nose with his, like he’s not being insane. “I would do it, princess. So fucking fast – I’d tell him you died, too, if you didn’t love him so much.”

“I…” you can’t answer it, his teeth sink into your skin as your thighs grip his slutty waist. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“Am I?” He grins now, and watches your face flush, your lips part. “I’d do anything to keep you the fuck away from them.”

“I have to see them tomorrow,” you mumble, gasping when his grip tightens. “I know…”

“You wet because I said I’d tell everyone you’re dead? Or because I’d kidnap you, huh?” You don’t answer, just kept dripping more until you soak his gym shorts. “Slutty little brat, just for me… I would keep you to myself.”

“Sukuna…” You just kiss him again, when a knock comes from the door, you pause, eyes widening – as it once again hits him.

You’re not his to the public.

How will he handle seeing the news, the press of you and Gojo at some get together tomorrow? 

He eases off you, setting your clothes right before he answers the door, leaning down to brush your hair back behind your ear. “You think about working for me.”

It’s selfish, really.

Sukuna just wants more of you.

*****

You

You’re at a charity function that weekend with Satoru, but this is different than the last one, there was no awkward silence in the limo, he was peeking at his phone as you texted Sukuna, sighing and having you look curiously.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, he’d rolled his eyes.

“Just Jennifer trying to see me again, I don’t know how much more clear I could be about it,” you had tensed a bit.

“You know, since I’m with Sukuna I can’t tell you not to be with them, even though I felt she was coming at me a certain way-”

“I don’t want her.”

You blinked a bit at that. “Not at all?”

“No, I want whatever parts of you I can have before you’re gone,” he had cupped your face, eyes looking down at your lips as the limo drove quietly in the night, you had bit your lower lip, sighing.

“You can’t say things like that, Satoru…”

“No?”

“No,” you’d given in, leaning in first for that kiss – ones he usually stole, but in that moment how could you not? “Mmm, Satoru I…”

“Shh,” he kept kissing you, until you were on his lap, his hand sliding up the small of your back, where it was bare from your dress, you felt your heart hammer in your chest. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

“You shh,” he snorted a bit at that, kissing you again as your arm wrapped around his neck, a hand slipping up along his undercut, brushing the silky strands there and arching your hips. “I see why you were such a whore, talking like that to all your girls.”

He paused, blinking and leaning back, looking up at you carefully. “You are pretty, you’ve always been. Always too good for me.”

You had paused, breath caught in your throat, the emotions so thick you could hardly stand him in that moment. “Why did you do all this?”

He was quiet, looking down, but you had taken his chin in your hand, looking down into pretty blue eyes full of pain, full of self loathing. “I wanted you to have your own choice – and you got it.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him. “But we… you had… this, is it just physical to you?”

“If it was – it would be fucking easy,” he murmured, a hushed, angry whisper hot against your lips. “I wish that I just wanted to fuck you, and that’s all it was – not the torture you put me through.”

“Me torturing you!?” You laughed then, a mean little one that has his brows lowered, eyes narrowed, fingers pressing in the curve of your waist until you cry out softly. Satoru sat up straighter, tugging you against his chest. “That’s insane, do you know what you fucking did to me?”

“If you were smart, you’d leave me for Sukuna,” you slapped him, a harsh, loud little sound that had him turning his head, the red blossoming. “You wouldn’t let me touch you at all. You wouldn’t look at me the way you do.”

“I am smart, thank you very fucking much – I’m only dumb when it comes to…” You had trailed off then. “Whatever the fuck this is.”

You couldn’t say the words, the ones trapped in your throat – You love him, and you hate him.

So fucking much.

“You’re such a mean little girl with me,” he says, laughing now, the sound bitter as he pins you against him, taking your wrists and pressing them behind your back, taking you over. “So sweet with your ‘Kuna’ though, yeah?”

“He’s sweet to me,” Satoru had pouted, you’d itched to smack him again, enjoying the red on his cheek.

“I could be sweet to you,” he’d kissed up your jaw, lips brushing your ear until you had trembled, cunt slick underneath your panties like a betrayal. “If you’d ever let me be, but it’s too late, isn’t it?”

“The only one who keeps saying it’ll end is you,” you blinked hot tears, his sigh tickling your skin. “You wanted it to end before it started.”

“Do you really wanna know what I feel, sweetheart? Could you actually even handle hearing it?”

You had said nothing, letting him keep your arms pinned, as he had pulled back and looked at you desperately, sighing and using his other hand to grip under your chin, fingers on either side of your windpipe. The limo wasparked, but you had sat there longer than you should have, as Satoru again tore you into pieces by merely existing in your atmosphere.

The thoughts of that are rampant, the way his hand is on your waist tonight, as you both mingle – seeing your parents, seeing the press out front. Satoru dances with you tonight, even as you glare up at him, he doesn’t look at another – a stark contrast from the first time you danced.

With his fingers glistening with another woman.

You haven’t forgotten – no, you remember it all. Yet with every dip and move, every spin and hold, every murmur in your ear and brush against your skin, you feel his desire. You feel the want, the need – so desperate from him, even if he hasn’t said the words like Sukuna did.

I’d tell them you died.

Sukuna was insane – but you loved him for it.

Satoru was damaged – and you still love him.

Even if you can’t say those damn words to Gojo, scared to give him that power, terrified to hurt again and more afraid to hurt him and Sukuna – they’re there, when Sukuna had asked you.

What do you feel for Gojo? 

What did you feel, besides split in half – two versions of you love two different men, and the love is different, it’s not stronger for one or the other. Just because Sukuna’s seemed easier, it didn’t make it less – and just because the hatred for Satoru lingered, didn’t mean you loved him less.

You’re lost in thought as Satoru has to mingle, and you’re sipping on a bubbly glass of champagne, when something grips your wrist, and the drops glitter onto the tile floor below. You gasp out at it, blinking rapidly, and you look up to see your mother, dragging you as far away as she can, the glass falling to the ground in the haste, crashing and splitting into pieces.

“Mother… I…”

“Shut your mouth,” she has you in a quiet hall, out of sight – and you feel so small then, like you always did.

No matter how much love you felt, no matter how strong Sukuna tries to make you, every memory of her punishment leaves you stuck, unable to move, like your feet were glued to the very floor in those pretty heels.

You still were afraid of her.

“What is it?” You try to hold it together, and she laughs – a mean, sharp sound. 

“You think everyone didn’t see you at that match?” Your mother leans low towards you, her jaw setting.

“I just…”

“Slut,” her words are sharp, they slap you hard – so hard you struggle to get it together at all. “I can’t believe Gojo deals with you.”

“You have no clue about our relationship,” you whisper now, as her hand tightens on your wrist, her manicured nails pressing in. “You don’t know anything about me or Satoru.”

“I know he lets you fuck the town, hmm?” You laugh sharply, shaking your head. “You’re not worthy of someone like him – but even you shouldn’t sink as low as Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Are you mad that he beat dad up? Ah,” she smacks you then with a quick movement of her hand, and you tremble as the pain hits, stinging your cheeks with this brutal, lingering burn.

“Shut up you stupid little bitch,” your nails press into your palms, trying to tug away from her. “Just because Gojo deals with you for now, doesn’t mean you won’t become our problem when he kicks you aside. The shame you’ll bring to us.”

The truth of that does hit – at some point, Satoru was ending the marriage, whether you two were like before – hating each other, or now… 

What were you now?

Now he had been inside you, all your holes had been full of his cum, and he’d kissed you in ways he shouldn’t have. Offering a position at his company, even, meant perhaps he’d push it off a bit, mitigate the damage of such a quick divorce, his thought process must also be skewed with everything.

Yet the pain of thinking of never seeing him again fills you, this dread in the pit of your stomach growing, you can’t handle it suddenly, as much as you wanted to leave him before, now everything has changed. There were too many moments, too much between you for you not to be sad when the day comes, even though you will have Sukuna.

You love two men, and the ways they make you feel are completely different – submissive and sweet with Sukuna, dominant and bratty with Satoru, both of them pulling these things out of you that you never knew were there, that you never really acknowledged could exist. How could you have any semblance of a normal life when they’ve both crashed into you?

Now Satoru has forgone any other woman – when he doesn’t have to, but even now you catch sight of him walking by, his eyes immediately darting to your face, his jaw tensing. You step back just a bit and your mom steps forward, not noticing Satoru walking up behind her.

You give an imperceptible shake of your head, as if to stop him, when she takes that wrong, raising her hand again for Satoru to grip her wrist, halting her.

“Excuse me!? I,” she looks back now and pales visibly– she surely thought the two of you were all alone over here. “I was…”

“Get. Your. Hands. Off her.” Satoru's words are quiet, this faint blue vein pressing from his temple.

“I simply am looking out for your reputation,” she says, letting him lower her hand. “She was seen at that boxing match.”

“Seen what, enjoying it? Enjoying boxing?”

“That will never do, and what is with this talk of her working?!”

“She wants to,” Satoru looks at you now, his smile sad. “If she wants to work, why can't she?”

“Not at the gym!”

“Then she can work part-time with me too,” he says smoothly, laughing softly now. “I am in need of an assistant.”

****

Satoru

It takes everything in Gojo not to kill your mother, not to act up and ruin her life, for hitting your pretty face. He can hardly hold himself together, seeing the surprise on your face, expecting a no. Expecting anything other than the relief in your face, how you clutch at your dress so tightly, reminding him of the night your dad split your lip.

He should have been the one to beat him.

“I could do that,” you say now – surprising him more. Your mom sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Surely that would look good? Me working with the Gojo corp?”

She looks at Satoru, who tugs you against him, wrapping an arm around your waist, feeling the tenseness of your body, how you tremble – why couldn’t he have protected you then, at their house? Why couldn’t he have done more, why did he let you alone with them?

He barely knew you then – but the writing was on the wall, if they treated you like this in public…

What had they done in private?

“Keep your gym job a secret, then,” she orders, you quietly nod. “Gojo is better than you deserve. What a waste of-”

“Why don’t you stop talking to my fucking wife that way?” Satoru cuts her off, and her lips close. “The only waste is you, here, waste of my fucking time.”

“Gojo, surely you-”

“Get away from her, and don’t let me fucking see you or your shit husband anywhere near her,” she steps back. “Go.”

She scoffs and stomps off, leaving you alone with Satoru, when he holds your face gingerly, wincing as he sees her ring left a mark. “You didn’t have to do any of that, Satoru.”

“I should have done more that night,” you go to disagree, but he cuts you off, kissing your lips, feeling you melt for him in a way you shouldn’t. Yet here you are, going weak in his hold. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

You sniffle, dragging him down for a kiss, he stumbles over to the wall, pressing you against it, sliding a possessive hand over your waist, tongue slipping in, taking over your mouth. You just cry out, in a way that has him ready to ruin you right against this wall, uncaring of anyone – other than he didn’t want anyone to even see you like that.

He already had to share you with one person.

“Fuck, forget this,” you say then, and he frowns, as you tug him by his tie, glaring at him. “I love you.”

He blinks then, words stuck in his throat. “Forget it?”

“Forget it,” you say again, he glares, kissing you and picking you up, until you’re in a bathroom, facing a mirror, him turning you so you can see him behind you. “Satoru we… can’t, we…”

“Forget it?” He says again, laughing darkly, kissing up your neck, wrapping an arm as he presses you against the marble counter. “You want me to fucking forget that you just said that?”

“Yes,” your eyes flutter shut, and Satoru bites your shoulder so hard it hurts. “Ah! You dick!”

“Do you not mean it?” He asks, voice a breathy little moan. “Open your eyes and fucking look at me.”

“I shouldn’t,” you do focus, then, your pretty eyes dark – pupils wide, as the words play over and over in his mind. “I shouldn’t say that.”

“You shouldn’t love me,” his voice breaks before he can stop it, sliding your dress up achingly slowly, pressing against you, feeling you tremble. “You know you shouldn’t.”

“Shut up, Satoru,” you turn your face, still reddened from your mother. “You act like I want to feel this way about you.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart,” he says softly, hitching your thigh up over the counter, fingertips sliding along the slit of your panties, watching your head fall back against his chest. “You hate that you do.”

“Just fuck me,” you whisper, gasping out as he tugs your panties aside, and you’re already dripping wet. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Satoru eyes you levelly in the mirror instead, sinking two fingers inside your needy cunt, the one that is already gripping him, tacky walls so tight. “I can’t forget that. I won’t.”

“You have to…”

“No,” he sighs, inhaling your scent, his eyes catching yours in the mirror, moving his fingers inside you faster, watching you start to fall apart.

How could Satoru ever forget those words?

When he shouldn’t have ever gotten them? When he’s never gotten them in his entire life?

An ‘I love you’ from the one person who should hate him the most.

How can he forget, just fuck you, when he has to have you– possess you, take you over, in a way that’s insanity, in a way that has him whispering things he never fucking thought he would – your name, with a little laugh, over and over. He keeps repeating it softly, fingers plunging in and out of you – everything forgotten but this one singular moment.

Where he whispers those three words right back in your ear.

“I’ll take my time…” He says, laughing again, moaning as he feels you gushing, tightening up. “Savor every moment of you that I get.”