THIS IS SO GOOD That I Literally Took Reading Breaks From How Fast My Heart Was Racing 🥹 💞

this is sooo good 🥹

❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part two of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol)

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,” 

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly. 

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,” 

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home. 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek. 

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,” 

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close. 

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“ 

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?” 

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips— 

RING. RING. RING. 

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams. 

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out. 

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then. 

Probably not. That would be far too lucky. 

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed. 

It was too much of a risk. 

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs— 

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you. 

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky. 

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now. 

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other. 

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking. 

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream. 

Perfect. 

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,” 

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?” 

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?” 

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?” 

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here. 

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy. 

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began. 

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?” 

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?” 

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—” 

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive? 

Fucking unfair. 

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what? 

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,” 

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,” 

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’ 

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,” 

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,” 

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of. 

“And I want us to do that—” 

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?” 

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over. 

It didn’t. 

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk. 

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.” 

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter? 

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see. 

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea,  most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,” 

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library. 

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,” 

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer. 

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence. 

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression. 

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—” 

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,” 

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, “Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes. 

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward. 

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,”  you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one. 

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew. 

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you calling me self absorbed?” 

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,” 

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped. 

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, 

God he’s even pretty when he blushes. 

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,” 

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,” 

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?” 

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?” 

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus. 

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?” 

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,” 

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester. 

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students. 

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,” 

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.” 

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over. 

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students. 

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material. 

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right? 

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else. 

Something you knew very well. 

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you. 

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?” 

You blink, “how’d you know that?” 

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds. 

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,” 

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?” 

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,” 

“What students?” 

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,” 

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium. 

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly. 

“No,” and he only smiles wider. 

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,” 

“I’m not—“ 

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,” 

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again. 

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,” 

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,” 

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started. 

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you. 

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since. 

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing? 

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you. 

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best. 

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was. 

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester? 

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst. 

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross. 

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,” 

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.  

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand? 

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?” 

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you. 

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?” 

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,” 

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning? 

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for? 

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks. 

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” 

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery. 

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly. 

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions. 

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide. 

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you. 

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. 

God, this wasn’t a dream was it? 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you. 

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he— 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?” 

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?” 

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. 

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity. 

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?” 

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?” 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him. 

Nothing good ever came from your want. 

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze. 

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be. 

“I’m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade,  “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add. 

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,” 

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,” 

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?” 

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,” 

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,” 

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?” 

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him. 

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,” 

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter. 

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about. 

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep). 

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions. 

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days. 

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work. 

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook. 

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him. 

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down. 

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week. 

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy  — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,” 

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“ 

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?” 

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise. 

So you make the decision for both of you. 

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do.  He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor. 

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter. 

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?” 

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?” 

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone. 

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly. 

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,” 

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“ 

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” 

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him. 

But why did it hurt so goddamn much? 

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.  

Was it really not a big deal to him? 

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two. 

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.” 

Just fine. 

“There was a problem with your reservation,” 

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”  

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed. 

One. Bed. 

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town. 

“There is a couch though,” he offers,  pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone. 

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?” 

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show? 

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders. 

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down. 

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head. 

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,” 

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?” 

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“ 

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“ 

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,” 

“We’re both adults—“ 

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation. 

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone. 

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,” 

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,” 

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?” 

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower. 

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not). 

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin. 

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry. 

Oh. My. God. 

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door. 

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him. 

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek. 

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground. 

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open. 

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,” 

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,” 

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it. 

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face. 

This was going to be a long weekend. 

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see. 

Fuck his life. 

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor. 

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once. 

God, he sighed, it was such a mess. 

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem. 

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water. 

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most. 

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds. 

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth. 

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water.  Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat. 

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out. 

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you. 

It didn’t. 

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep. 

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in. 

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he? 

Not when it was you. 

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack. 

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side. 

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it 

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar. 

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck. 

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do. 

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,” 

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him. 

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink. 

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“ 

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?” 

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,” 

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?” 

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t. 

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,” 

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,” 

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside. 

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,” 

“Professor—“ 

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“ 

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.” 

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,” 

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,” 

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs. 

“Of him?” 

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,” 

“Not your type?” he asks. 

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car. 

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“ 

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?” 

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“ 

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur. 

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters. 

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be— 

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,” 

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,” 

“No—“ 

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,” 

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,” 

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,” 

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same. 

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep. 

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it. 

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it. 

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop. 

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight. 

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep. 

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight. 

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely. 

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title? 

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he? 

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman. 

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair? 

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut. 

Just for a moment. 

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you. 

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor. 

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect. 

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine. 

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet. 

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow. 

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you. 

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto. 

So much for sticking to your sides. 

Fuck.  

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard. 

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was  against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with. 

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with. 

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him. 

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM. 

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM? 

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs,  jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s. 

Fuck. 

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart. 

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him. 

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning. 

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist. 

Fuck. 

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now. 

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away? 

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?” 

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down. 

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats. 

Could this possibly get worse? 

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car. 

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead. 

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand. 

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck. 

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down. 

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help. 

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go. 

But you didn’t know how to begin to. 

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed. 

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone. 

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be. 

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head. 

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this? 

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,” 

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention. 

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“ 

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone. 

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh. 

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,” 

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“ 

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”  

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“ 

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp. 

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well. 

And you realize how close you are to him. 

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either. 

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go. 

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again. 

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity. 

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut. 

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat. 

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried. 

RING. RING. RING. 

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality. 

The department head. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.” 

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start. 

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken. 

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you. 

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed. 

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake. 

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart. 

Was this fate versus free will? 

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart. 

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto — 

And so maybe he should let it. 

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper. 

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open. 

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words. 

Just as you always were it seemed. 

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop? 

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try. 

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?” 

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,” 

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?” 

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?” 

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself. 

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this. 

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that. 

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A. 

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor. 

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was. 

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“ 

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,” 

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,” 

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,” 

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end? 

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?” 

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“ 

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent. 

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-” 

“It was unspoken—” 

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft. 

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—” 

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—” 

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle. 

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch. 

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—” 

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile. 

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?” 

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist. 

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?” 

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—” 

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open. 

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need. 

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?” 

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—” 

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip. 

RING. RING. RING. 

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—” 

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,” 

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again. 

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body. 

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?” 

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

The art I KNEW i NEEDED ❤️‍🔥

This suits them so much—I stand by my belief that sukuna drives like max 🥺🤧

Gojo is so Ferrari-coded 🥹

ok wheres my f1 sukugo fic

true love waits

four | gojo's ghost hunting guide

seeing spectres? got a ghost problem? it seems Satoru Gojo has one of his own - one he doesn't want to get rid of

synopsis: full-time nerd turned part-time amateur ghost hunter, you've become Gojo's favorite occupation! living with a roommate is hard enough - let alone falling in love with your (un?)dead one!

pairing: nerdjo x ghost!Reader

content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, oral sex (f! receiving), ghost GETTING head this time, roommates-to-lovers but one of them is dead lol, paranormal aspects ofc, fem reader, discussions of death, some darker themes but plenty of goofy gojo to go around, idiots falling in love, Geto being a skeptic, gojo is jealous and down atrociously bad

art by @chu-cho + divider by @petalpxl

Some things were sacred.

The faint taste of cherry chapstick that still cling to your lips. How delicately you'd interlace your fingers with his. The few seconds when he first wakes up in the morning, the fleeting moments where he could almost believe you were actually alive in his arms, hair tickling his face and your skin touching his skin.

So Gojo knew what he was holding was something holy.

To you, at least.

He hadn't meant to find it, a rare occasion where he wasn't even trying to be sneaky. Just struggling to clean out his closet while you were distracted by a new book he'd brought home in the living room, leaving you lounging on the couch, pages flipping on their own and the sound of your favorite song drifting down the hall. He was innocent for once, tossing clothes in the laundry basket and reorganizing shoes when he noticed the crooked floorboard, his fingers reaching out to see if it was properly secured just to discover how easily it could be pulled up.

And now?

He was trying his hardest not to open what very much appeared to be your diary, a familiar little heart drawn in the bottom corner of the cover.

You might actually kill him and send him straight to the afterlife if you discovered him with it.

Or even worse?

You might not even want to spend it with him anymore if you suspected he was snooping.

The stereo flipped off in the living room, and in a moment of panic, he was scrambling to fix the floorboard and stand up, shoving the small book into the bookbag hanging up in his closet. Dusting off his jeans and sliding into his desk chair right as the door creaked open.

"Hey," He nervously greeted, fiddling with his fingers as he felt your weight slide into his lap, wrists thrown around his neck before you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, lips tracing over the pale scars there.

Gojo tried to kiss your lips, just to miss and press a soft peck to the tip of your nose instead, earning a tiny giggle that made his cheeks flush pink.

If you were striving off his attention, he was getting addicted to yours.

Every kiss, every touch, every little sound and flash of color he could make out made him long for more, his heart hollowed out like he could try to trap you inside it, let you live there instead.

The dreams we're getting stronger too, and if he was convinced before, he was certain now that it was you there with him, you occupying his sleep the same way you occupied his space.

He actually got to see you there, got to laugh and linger in the weird limbo, even if he rarely remembered more than bits of pieces the next day. The shape of your lips. The crinkle by your eyes.

Sometimes a story you'd tell him.

Never the beginning or the end, but the bits in between.

Gojo attempted to draw you from the scraps he could recall, but uh, he wasn't exactly an artist. The little frowny face you'd scribbled next to a bunch of question marks on the page beneath it proved that.

"Satoru," A voice softly spoke, and he jolted.

Eyes going wide, everything else forgotten as he squeezed your sides tight, trying to wrap his brain around it.

You said his name. And he heard it.

Little laughs and faint moans were one thing. But a full word? Your pretty voice calling out to him?

His pulse pounded in his eardrums, threatening to drown you out, his fingers slipped under the thin fabric of the shirt he couldn't see just to feel your skin underneath, to feel as close to you as possible.

"I heard that," He breathed, disbelief still shining in his eyes. "I heard you."

"R-really?" A quiet stammer, just as nervous and flustered as he was. Gojo rubbed his eyes, blinking a few times before slowly nodding.

"Yeah," He answered, and then he was standing up, picking you up with him and laughing like he heard the funniest joke in the world.

You were heavier than he expected - for a ghost, he meant. Not weightless, but as if he was actually lifting your body.

Gojo could be clueless, but thankfully, he at least knew better than to voice that and accidentally annoy you.

"Say something else," He requested, anxious excitement of his own bleeding through when he set you back down, shaky hands clumsily trying to caress your cheeks, dying to hear you speak again. "Anything."

"Satoru," You repeated, giddy and trying not to giggle this time, your hands reaching up to cup his face, accidentally bumping into his glasses. "I like you. A lot."

"I like you more."

And seriously, even a skeptic like Suguru would have to admit you existed when you could actually talk to him.

"Satoru," Geto sighed, cutting him a look that was more concerned than surprised. "It was kinda funny at first, but I think you should see a doctor."

"C'mon," Gojo groaned, half-dragging him down the hall to the front door of his apartment.

It was a spur of a moment thing, meeting up after his shift ended a couple days later to show Geto the diary and once again, ask for advice regarding his love life. Or, uh, could he still call it that if you weren't living?

Either way, Geto took the book from him and flicked through it, probably expecting Gojo's handwriting, or some other hoax. But whatever he saw just made Geto scowl, asking what the fuck was wrong with him before he threw the diary in his own bag before Gojo could ask for it back.

And somehow, in his instance that he wasn't making any of it up, he accidentally ended up inviting him over after dinner.

Geto's lips were pressed in a thin line, disappointed or in disbelief, but choosing not to comment as Gojo turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

The apartment was eerily silent.

Nothing on, no noises, curtains mostly drawn and long shadows cast across the the dim living room.

"Well," Suguru slowly said, letting out a second long sigh. "It's certainly creepy."

"Honey, can you come out? I want you to meet someone," Gojo called out, flipping on a lamp just for it to immediately turn back off. He laughed, like it wasn't, in fact, creepy, readjusting his glasses and wiping the sweat on his palms off on his shirt.

Were you upset? Or was this your idea of a joke?

Okay, he hadn't mentioned bringing Geto over, but he never considered you might mind.

"Please," He pouted, turning the lamp on again and glancing around the empty room. You tidied up while he was gone, all the books put up and a blanket nearly folded over the back of the couch. The lilies he'd bought for you died after a few days, but he was quick to replace them with fresh pink peonies instead (and actually buy a vase this time).

"Do you want the number for my therapist?" Geto deadpanned.

"She's real," Gojo insisted, and as if to prove his point, a book suddenly fell from the shelf, clattering loudly to the floor.

He could see the way Geto's brows were quick to cinch together, how his eyes squinted to slits as he searched for some clear string or mechanism to make it happen. But then the tv turned on, the remote floating as you started flicking through the channels, before tossing it back on the coffee table.

"Ha-ha," Geto dryly said. "Very funny. So how are you doing that?"

Then his jaw went tight, a flicker of surprise registering in his dark eyes, and Gojo guessed you were probably touching him, maybe grabbing his hand or poking him.

"He's not," You giggled, and Gojo noticed the fabric wrinkling on Geto's sleeve as if you were tugging on it. "I am."

He quickly realized bringing Geto over may have been a mistake.

And yeah, it was silly, and absolutely stupid, but you were his ghost, you were supposed to haunt him.

Not sit between the two of them on the couch and play a weird fucked-up version of twenty questions with Geto where you took turns answering questions about being dead - or alive.

He felt like a fucking idiot for not thinking of something like that sooner.

It didn't matter much though - you still passed on anything and everything personal.

How you died, if you had any family, only hesitantly offering your first name and age. The one you'd still be stuck at even when birthdays came and passed.

He did get confirmation you couldn't leave the apartment though. That you'd found yourself stuck here two years ago. How much you hated the tenant before him. That somehow the stuff that used to sap all your energy, like turning on the stereo or opening cabinets, was easy to do now.

In exchange, they tried to fill you in on modern events. Random bits of gossip or latest news stories. Gojo wondered if you wanted to ask about people you used to know, if there was someone out there who loved you that would kill for a chance to talk to you just one more time like this.

And all he discovered was just the thought of someone else having you, all of you, made his heart lurch, his stomach churn, every piece of him feel sick.

Even listening to Geto chuckle, to see his lips curl up in the same smirk that always made girls wilt and throw themselves at him, hearing your sweet voice speaking to someone else, that was already shitty enough.

But realizing he might never have even had a chance if you weren't confined here with him?

It fucking sucked.

His nervous chatter faded, folding his hands in his lap to keep from pushing up his glasses every second and feeling more like a ghost than you were.

But you noticed, your body brushing closer against his while you pried his hands apart to hold one. He had to look away, hoping you wouldn't notice how sweaty it was, that you wouldn't start wishing you lived with Geto instead of him.

What if you started thinking his rants were boring? What if you thought Digimon was immature compared to Geto's more tasteful interests?

Almost like you could sense his anxiety, you leaned in closer, and he felt your breath on his neck. Slow kisses trailing upward, canines scraping against his tendons until your mouth settled on his jaw. Reminding him where your affections still laid.

"Hey, Suguru," Gojo managed, squeezing your hand as he cleared his throat. "I'm pretty tired. Mind heading out? I'll call you tomorrow."

Technically-speaking, he was tired. Therefore, it wasn't a lie.

To be totally honest though?

He wanted your lips somewhere else. Wanted your nails raking down his shoulder blades and your warmth wrapped around him.

"Sure," Geto replied, meaning to push off the couch only to accident push off your leg instead, and you let out a cute little yelp while he chuckled. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Yeah, no, Gojo was never inviting Geto back.

There was no way in hell he was sharing you.

And you didn't mind, did you?

He could take care of you - great care of you even!

His palms spreading your thighs and pinning them down to the mattress, the small shorts and your underwear he couldn't see shoved aside so he could get a taste of you.

Dragging his tongue over your slit, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking softly while phantom fingers tugged and pulled at his hair. Getting tangled as you moaned his name, hips arching up off his bed.

"Taste so good, baby," He groaned, eagerly licking and lapping at you while his glasses fogged up.

Were you more sensitive like this?

It sure fucking seemed like it - every exploratory drag of his tongue made you whine and whimper.

Your thighs were tense, muscles twitching as you strained to close them together, squirming to get more friction when he dove in deeper. He'd been at it for half an hour, but he just couldn't seem to get enough.

His lips were glossy, slick with spit and you, but he was pretty sure he could live off of this, sustain himself on your kisses and your cunt.

"Satoru," You whined, and he released one of your thighs to shove two fingers inside instead, scissoring and stretching you out just to hear the strangled gasp escape your throat. Pretty little broken breathing, picturing what you might look like with your head thrown back against his pillow while he fingered you until you were begging to cum. "Please, ple-"

"Be my girlfriend," He huffed, like he wasn't knuckle deep and you weren't dead.

"Y-you know I-I," You were stuttering, but he didn't want the reminder of what you were probably going to say.

That he should probably find a living girl when all he wanted was you.

"Just say yes," He quietly murmured, returning to sucking on your clit while his fingers drove back in deeper, your walls squeezing at the soft plea of his voice.

"Alright," You weakly murmured, your voice strained. He was rutting against the bed, his cock already painfully close to cumming in his boxers as your thighs trembled under his touch. "I'm yours."

He didn't know who finished first.

Just that he'd do anything to finally fuck you.

Settling for snuggles underneath the sheets post-shower, damp hair sticking to his forehead while you fixed his glasses, your naked body resting on top of his.

Softly sighing, his arms wrapped around you, your fingers running over his scars like they were something you found beautiful.

Like he was something you found beautiful.

For the first night in months, he dozed off to a dreamless sleep. Eyes fluttering closed, just to crack them open to bright sunlight streaming into his room a handful of hours later.

Blinking a few times, brushing your hair back with a yawn, murmuring something half-incoherent that hadn't fully left his lips when he glanced down and saw you.

Actually saw you.

You hadn't noticed yet, your cheeks still squished against his chest, eyes closed. He wasn't sure if you could actually sleep, or if maybe it was still a matter of habit, like breathing or blinking.

Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers finding flesh, soft and sweet and his, although your form still flickered, almost translucent as he traced over your cheekbones.

"Good morning, pretty girl."

taglist: @fati27ma @soraairo @s-guru @shokosbunny @ssetsuka @deathofacupid @kayskow @pillkits @inoluvrr @baepsays @imm0rtalbutterfly @heartcam @littlenutmaestro @mia-can-yap-too @bbatzvil @sugarcoatedsoul @designerpvssy @gravity-valley @stellasloth @dostoevskyzz @aldebrana @lashaemorow @monstersholygrail @mai-505 @itsinherited @gojosprettyprincess @mimiluvzu2 @poopooindamouf @emochosoluvr @nina-from-317 @beautiful--macabre @gris3o @petalshxwer @oneirataxiaa @onixsky @flowerpot113 @ryuvies @anyx404 @herefor-tojis-tits @takethechai @miizuzu @entr4p3 @nonamebbsblog

my love 🫶🏻

Silent Love: Ch. 6 - "Forgiveness"

⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Four

Previous Chapter: "Good Guy."

Chapter One: New Roommate(s)

Master-List: Here!

.・゜゜・ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:

College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.

Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 27,169

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ November 14th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Wednesday

You keep your eyes closed, ankles crossed while sitting down on the toilet. Your fingers play with the end of your sweatshirt while Uraume kneels before you, their thumb pads softly working into the eyelid of your eyes. Softly rubbing left and right, and up and down. 

“This always helps with swelling.” Their voice is monotone, holding no emotion or form of expression. “Cooling them down is good for a short amount of time, but it can strain the eyes and be uncomfortable. Rubbing them gently removes the fluids that have built up.” 

Uraume is completely different from when you first met them. They’re more collected, calm, emotionless, and put together. They haven’t so much as smiled yet, nor do they even sound human. They’re also wearing something more formal, a white button up shirt, and some nice black pants. You feel like a child next to them, messy and disorganized. 

You sheepishly nod, “I didn’t know that.” 

“You most likely haven’t cried enough to know that.” Uraume tells you, pulling their hands away from your face in exchange for a cool damp cloth. “These are things you learn with experience, much rather time.”

You tilt your head, “Have you cried enough?” 

Uraume pauses for a moment, before responding, “Not me, no.” The stand up, tossing the wet cloth in the sink and it hits the bowl with a gross splat. Then, they add, “But, someone I used to tend to, yes.” 

You nod, fluttering your eyes open, you immediately notice how much lighter your eyes feel, along with your vision being a bit better. You push yourself off the toilet seat lid, moving to the mirror and looking at yourself. 

Uraume’s standing next to you, looking at you through the mirror. “Looks good enough for the day, wouldn't you agree?” They grab their rolled up sleeves, and pull them down, making sure that the cuffs of their nice shirt rest perfectly at their wrist. 

You nod, the tips of your fingers moving to the corners of your eyes. They’re still a bit irritated, but the swelling is practically gone, along with your eyes, no longer bloodshot, more tired or high looking. “Yeah, it looks good.” You smile slightly. 

Uraume nods satisfied, “That’s good.” They sigh to themselves, closing their eyes with a bit of exhaustion, their hand pressing against their mouth, mumbling, “This is getting to become my normal again.” They open the restroom door and leave the small room. 

You follow after, blinking a few times, “Is there…?” You watch as Uraume makes way to the kitchen, opening the plastic bag they brought with them. “Uhm… are you? Is there something you’re here for?”

Uruame nods, placing the things on the table. “Of course, I’m here for Sukuna.” They place the final item, and you quickly observe they’re the ingredients for cookies. 

Cookies?

“Oh, well, I’m sorry but…” You move to the island, resting your weight on it, “Sukuna’s not here, and I have no idea when he’s coming back.” You pass them an unsure smile, “If you want, you can stay and wait, but I don’t know how long you’ll be waiting.” 

“I’m aware.” Uraume tells you, discarding the plastic bag, “He’s currently at my place, he’s going to return later today.” They pull out their phone, typing something. You can’t deny you’re jealous, especially knowing that Sukuna spent the night there. 

Wait, what? 

Now, you’re a bit confused, why would Uraume come here for Sukuna while he’s at their house? “Oh, did he tell you that?” You lean back and forth, a bit anxious at the thought of Sukuna coming home. “He hasn’t told me, or Yuuji anything.” 

“No.” Uraume tucks their phone in their pockets, “I just told him. He should be here in an hour or two.” They shrug, “However long it takes for him to get out of bed.”  

You tense, “Oh, uhm. Okay.” You twist your feet to the hall, ready to leave. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything–” 

“I do.” Uraume points at the items on the island counter, “I’m making something, it’d be nice to have an extra pair of hands.” Their finger taps expectantly on the counter, almost impatiently. They want you to stay, and you don’t want to stay. The idea of Sukuna coming home has you anxious, and avoidant, you really don’t want to see him right now. 

“Oh, uhm…” You thickly swallow, shakily pointing at Yuuji’s room, “If you want… I can go grab Yuuji?” You pass them an unsure smile, letting your hand fall to your side again. 

Uraume shakes their head, “No. Your help is good. Come on.” They point at the butter, it’s two sticks. “Put those in the fridge for me, I have a feeling they’re close to melting.” You pass them an unsure look, naturally turning to go to your room, only for Uraume to say, “I’m trying to help you feel better, you’re being a brat.” 

You blink at their abruptness, before slowly nodding, “Okay.” You grab the two slabs of butter, and move them to the fridge. “Bossy.” You whisper, shutting the fridge behind you. 

“No, not at all, just trying to help you.” Uraume says, reaching into their personal bag and pulling out a headband, “People tend to drown in their emotions if they don’t have anything to distract them.” Their hair is now out of their face, “Besides, everyone likes making cookies.” They blink at you.

You roll your eyes at that, you’re sure Sukuna doesn’t like cookies, he’s too brittle for that. You cross your arms over your chest, huffing a small bit.

“Even Sukuna.” Uraume quips mindlessly. “Although, he is picky about how they’re made. But, he’s like that with all food, it needs to be perfect, or it goes in the trash.” Despite the content matter, Uraume doesn’t sound like they’re complaining, it sounds more mindful if anything. 

You laugh a bit, “Am I really that readable?” 

“People tend to be when they’re mad.” 

“Really?” You lean on the fridge, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to find a kind way to phrase your words. “Uhm, Uraume, I appreciate the attempt to make me… uh, feel better, but I’m not interested.” You place your hands behind your back, “I’m sure Sukuna would be more than happy to help–” 

“He told me what happened.” Uraume says, reading your face, seeing the way your face burns. “He told me everything. Including what occurred at the party.” Which… they already had a faint idea of what occurred. 

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say anymore and Uraume knows that. “I’m surprised, I didn’t take him as someone to talk about such things.” It’s a slight jab at Sukuna, but it’s the least he owes you, right? 

“He doesn’t.” Uraume moves around the island, “Although, as of yesterday, he’s become much better at it.” Uraume tilts their head at you, narrowing their eyes. “Any idea to why?” You divert your eyes at that implication, shaking your head. “I’m sure you’re aware, but back when he moved out, he moved in with me, I was the friend who took him in.” 

That makes you gasp, “You’re… So, you two lived together during–” 

“Yes.” Uraume looks down, “Yesterday, I’ve never seen him so… vulnerable. It’s endearing, as his friend, but very odd to witness.” They hesitate to say, “It’s almost as if I’m reliving my youth. Dealing with Sukuna back when he was a teen and first moved in with me.” 

You feel your chest flutter, “Wait, you mean…?” You play with the end of your shirt, your face slowly heating up. “He’s also hurt by what happened?... He cares about what happened?” Uraume can sense your flattery, it’s as easy to read as a children’s book. 

Uraume turns away from you, chin resting on the palm of your hand. “I didn’t say that, but if that’s how you take it.” They reply emotionlessly, not bothering to look at you. 

You’re trying to hide a smile, but are miserably failing. Which makes you turn away from them altogether, “Can you tell me… what he said?” Your fingers are toying with each other. 

“No.” They push themselves away from the chair, moving towards the ingredients on the table. “Are you going to help me with these cookies?” They pass you an expecting look, a bit hurriedly too. 

You move after them, softly saying “I can’t cook.” You’re a bit embarrassed by that confession, even though you’ve said it close to a million times now. 

Uraume softly sighs, letting their head fall in a tilt, “I don’t think that matters, Su–” Uraume pauses for a moment, before awkwardly adding, “It’s cookies.” They grab some bowls from the cabinets, placing them on the table lightly. “You can’t mess up cookies.” 

You rub your arm, “You’d be surprised.” You open the drawers and pull out some mixing supplies, along with falling to the floor cabinets to pull out the electric mixer. You didn’t think there was one, but checked just in case, which thank god you did. 

Uraume doesn’t respond, just grabs the sticks of butter and uses a butter knife to cut them into chunks. You take this time to ask more questions, “Sukuna likes your cooking?” You tilt your head to the side, “But, needs things to be perfect?” 

Uraume nods, “Yes.” 

“How did he know your cooking was perfect?” You grab some paper towels and place them on the counter, allowing Uraume to place the blocks of butter on them. 

“He didn’t, and it wasn’t.” Uraume almost smiles to themself, recalling back to those times. “And he wouldn’t eat anything I made for quite some time. Sometimes he would starve himself, which I forced him to eat before he died in my house.” 

You laugh, and Uraume adds, “Could you imagine that? Cleaning a dead body?” They shiver, “The absolute time and mess it would be, the smell?...” They wrinkle their nose, before relaxing, “Is what I would say about anyone else, but it’s Sukuna.” 

You lean on the counter, a bit of dread filling your stomach. “You… like Sukuna?” 

“I love Sukuna, more than myself, actually.” That makes your stomach drop, twisting into something gross and unnerving. Uraume shakes their head, “Not like your type of love, mine is more… admiration, if anything.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side, “You admire Sukuna.” 

“Of course.” Uraume went through something similar to him, but was much more… crushed by the situation. Sukuna handled it far better than they did, which was admirable to Uraume. They hesitate, but add a small, “Sukuna admires you…” 

“Really?...” You turn away, cheeks burning, and heart racing. However, you don’t dwindle on it for too long, you’re quick to change the discussion. “So, how did Sukuna grow to like your cooking?” You tap your finger against the table, the action creating a small noise of which Uraume absolutely despises. 

“He had no money, nor anything to eat.” They toss some of the butter cubes into the bowel, passing you an empty one and silently ushering you to do the same. “Yet, that didn’t stop him. Like I said, he almost starved. But, I cared enough to force him to eat.” 

You nod, mimicking their actions and placing the butter in your bowl. “So, you learned how to cook for him?” You push your bowl in their direction. 

Uraume grabs some sugar, pouring some into their bowl, and pouring an equal amount into yours, “Yes. I learned exactly how to cook for Sukuna’s taste.” They sigh a bit, “It was difficult the first few tries, good food would go to waste, but I managed to get it “perfect” soon enough.” 

“How did you make it, “perfect?” Sounds a bit impossible.” 

Uraume adds brown sugar to both the bowls, eyeing the amount. “I don’t know.” Uraume passes you a whisk, mixing their batch which entitled you to do the same. “One day, after his constant comments on how to make the food, I served it to him, and he ate it.” 

You struggle a bit to mix the ingredients, before finding a rhythm that is good for you. “Hm. Sounds like Sukuna.” You smile a bit, but immediately hide it, “He’s bi-polar as hell.” 

Uraume quickly breathes out of their nose, “Sure.” They tap their whisk on the side of the bowl, their free hand spinning the container while expertly twisting their hand and mixing the batter, “Although, I have a suspicion it wasn’t the food that was…‘not perfect.’” 

“What does that mean?” You glance at both your bowls, and notice yours doesn’t look as nice as Uraume’s. You start mixing with a bit more purpose. Uraume doesn’t respond, just taps their whisk on the edge, then takes yours to do the same. 

“Does he feel bad?” You ask, watching them mix your bowl. 

Uraume pauses, before finally removing the whisk, tapping the edge of the bowl and placing the whisk to the side. “You’ll see.” They add an egg along with vanilla extract in both bowls, handing you the items again. 

You smile a bit, you know you should feel bad, Uraume is silently telling you that he is hurt over the situation, but that makes you a bit happy. Knowing that he’s in pain, just like you, maybe even crying, makes you happy. Because, it means one thing. Sukuna does care for you. 

—- 

You cringe, eyeing your burnt cookies, and Uraume’s perfect ones. You grab one of your cookies, tapping it on the pan, it’s solid. You drop the cookie, “I told you I was bad at cooking.” You pout slightly. 

“Like I said before, I don’t believe it matters.” Uraume grabs one of your cookies, breaking off a piece, and popping it into their mouth. You can hear the loud crunching, before they pause, close their eyes, reach for a paper towel, and silently spit the cookie inside the towel. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, but smile ever so slightly, you find the situation a bit amusing. “I swear, only I would be able to find a way to ruin cookies.” You pick up the remaining piece, popping it in your mouth, only to split it back out into your hand. Wow, those are horrible.

Uraume nods, tossing the paper towel out, “It’s just a matter of practice.” They sigh, looking at the two trays, “I suppose we can toss them out and say you made mine.” They put their hand to their chin in thought. 

“No! Why would we do that!” You take one of Uraume’s cookies, “You’re being ridiculous. Here, let me just–” Your heart stops when your head the garage door opens, Sukuna’s engine revving. You feel an indescribable worry shot through your body, forcing yourself to freeze. 

Uraume’s leaning on the island counter, chin resting on their palm while they’re looking at you. “Too late, it seems that Sukuna’s home already.” They’re watching you so intently, you’re a bit unnerved by it, are they…? Are they waiting to see what’s going to happen?

“Cookies?” Sukuna asks, closing the door behind him. 

You jump, turning back to look at him. Sukuna’s eyes are already on you, and unlike normal, he’s looking directly at your eyes. His hands twitch as his sides, unsure of what to do. You’re looking at his eyes too, they look familiar. They look like yours.

Sukuna raises his hand, and weakly waves. 

You mimic him, passing him a weak smile. “Hi.” 

“She made cookies for you.” Uraume cocks their head to the side, gesturing at the two trays. “She left the first batch in for two long, and insists on making a second batch for you.” They pull the headband off their head, letting their hair fall in their face. 

You blink at this, turning over your shoulder to say, “No, that’s a lie, Uraume made one batch, I made the other.” You can’t look at Sukuna, you only mumble with a flushed face, “I messed up my batch… for you.” 

Sukuna finally tears his gaze away from you, looking at the trays. “You made them for me?” He takes a few steps forward, standing in front of the two trays. He makes a face at your burnt cookies. 

You feel even more embarrassed now that he’s blatantly looking, “U-Uraume made some for you, too.” You stutter, playing with the ends of your sweatshirt. You feel Uraume standing next to you, their arm touching yours. 

“It was all her idea.” They immediately press their hand to your mouth, not allowing you to add to their statement. Going so far to shoot you a nasty glare when you turn to look at them. That’s when you feel something click into place, Uraume’s helping you right now.

Uraume is here for Sukuna. 

You can’t help but wonder, did Sukuna send Uraume to check up on you? See how you’re doing and if you’re okay? Is that why they texted him to finally come to the house? You feel so many questions flooding your mind, but your mind is stuck on the implications. 

Sukuna sent Uraume to check up on you for him. Uraume is here for Sukuna. They're here in place for Sukuna.

“Which one’s did you make?” Sukuna asks you, finally glancing over his shoulder. By this time, Uraume already pulled their hand away from you, acting as if nothing had happened. 

“Uh,” You point at the tray with the burnt cookies, “The ones that are rocks.” You move to grab them, “Here, let me just toss them out, I know no one is going to eat them.” You reach for the tray, but Sukuna grabs your wrist, shaking his head. 

Sukuna grabs one of your cookies, and pops it into his mouth. You cringe when you can hear the harsh chewing, and you instinctively reach for a paper towel, but Sukuna doesn’t give any indication of the taste. He just closes his eyes. 

He’s eating your cookie? He’s eating your burnt cookie that is sitting next to Uraume’s perfect ones. The picky Sukuna, is eating one of your fucked up cookies… and why? You softly pull away from his grasp, “You’re eating it…?” Sukuna swallows, and it makes your cringe. “You didn’t have to do–” 

“You’re cooking is…” Sukuna places his hand over his mouth, turning away from you. “You really do need to work on it.” His voice sounds shaky, uneven, and a bit mocking. “Did you even try?” Is he laughing at you?

“I can’t believe you ate that.” You’re burning up, turning away from him. “And, of course I did, I just… messed up.” You cross your arms over your chest, “And, it’s–it’s the thought that counts…” 

“Dumb girl.” Sukuna replies with a small amount of amusement. 

You look at him for a second, mumbling, “Why–Why did you eat them? They’re obviously not… perfect.” 

Sukuna raises one of his eyebrows, pinching your cheek. “You made them for me, it’d be rude not to.” He wrinkles his nose, shaking his head slightly, “Even if they’re shit.”

Uraume smiles slightly, grabbing their things. “It’s getting late, I suppose it’s time for me to leave.” They turn for the door. 

Sukuna looks at Uraume, he places his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks.” He waves, “I’ll see you around.” 

They smile to themself, “Anything for ‘Master’ Sukuna.” Yet, right before they leave the house, they point at Sukuna, “I don’t want to see you acting weird anymore.” They point at you next, “You, learn to like better people.” 

“What?! W-What does that… mean?” Uraume passes you a knowing look, which makes you flush. You place your hands on your hips, pretending to roll your eyes as you look to the side. “Bye, Uraume. See you later.” 

Sukuna nods in agreement, “Of course, I’ll see you.” Uraume waves, finally leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. It’s silent, but not like the silence when the two of you argued, it seems more comfortable and somber. 

You’re about to say something, when your phone rings, making both of you jump. You laugh slightly, “Sorry.” You pull it from your pocket, checking the called ID. You feel a small spike of dread when you see your mom’s name, did something happen? “Wait, let me get this.” 

Sukuna just nods, instinctively grabbing for another one of your cookies, but quickly pulls his hand back. It makes you hide a giggle before answering. You place your phone on the counter, seeing her face fill your screen. You pass her a small wave. 

She waves back, “Hi.” She pulls something on the screen, and you recognize it as your driving license. “You left something, I forgot to tell you yesterday.” She looks at the card, nodding her head, “You are so cute in this.”

You let out a sigh of relief, nodding your head, “Oh, I didn’t even know.” It wasn’t like you’re actively driving, so keeping it on you at all times wasn’t entirely necessary. It was just used as a form of identification. “I’m sure I can pick it up during the holidays.” Your mom nods, and in the corner of your eye you can see Sukuna looking over your shoulder. 

Oh no.

“Who is that?” She’s trying to look over your shoulder, despite being on a call. “Oh my–is that your boyfriend? He’s so hot!” She’s signing a bit more frantically, she’s excited. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? You are so lucky, baby, I wish your father–”

“Mom!” You say, covering your face. “Can you not, he’s just my roommate.” You bring your hands down, and silently tell her, “For now, just wait.” 

If your mom could, you know she would be smiling like an idiot. She’s always been one for listening to your stupid drama or about boys, you’re sure it’s no different even in your adulthood. “I knew it, I have a sense for these things.” She nods, “You have good taste, although, he looks like an–” 

“Asshole.” You nod, “I’ll talk to you later mom. I’ll see you during break.” She nods and ends the call, prompting you to let out a relieved sigh.

Sukuna stand next to you, one of Uraume’s cookies in hand, “Mom?” 

You nod, turning your head to look at him, “Yeah.” You snatch the cookie from his hand, taking a bite and handing it back to him. 

Sukuna’s eye twitches at your actions, “Fuckin’ disgusting.” He scowls at the cookie. 

You hide a giggle, “I accidentally left my drivers license.” 

“You could’ve grabbed another fuckin’ cookie.” 

“You’re still on the cookie?!” You give him an aspirated look. 

“Just tell me what she said.” He waves you off, “I’m over the cookie now.”

You laugh abruptly, “Ar-Are you?” He rolls his eyes and nods in acknowledgement, you quickly add, “She thought you were my boyfriend.” You’re tempted to take another bite of his cookie to mess with him. 

Sukuna looks at the bitten cookie, passes it a scowl, then pops the rest into his mouth, chewing while asking you, “What’d you say to that shit?” 

You turn on your heel, walking towards your room, “You’re the worst person ever, and I’d rather date Yuuji than you.” You have a smug smile on your face, fluttering you lashes innocently at him. “What else would there be to say?” 

Sukuna scowls at you, “You’re such a fuckin’ liar.” He wants to follow after you, but keeps in his spot. “You know you love–” He stops himself from finishing his sentence, he probably shouldn’t mess with you too much right now. Especially saying something of that nature. 

You wave him off, opening your door. “You’re so full of yourself. I will never like you.” 

Sukuna half smiles, something you can’t decipher hiding behind it, but it becomes more real once he sees you smiling back at him. “Promise?” He tilts his head to the side. 

You stop at the door, leaning on the frame while looking at him, “Do you promise?” There’s a small smile on your lips, your eyes full of curiosity, but it’s tainted with a bit of pain. Like you’re looking for something in his answer. 

Sukuna pushes his hair back, giving you a boyish look, “Do you… want me to?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your smile from building as you look to the side. You pass him a final smile, before silently entering your room and closing the door behind you. Sukuna cups his face, shaking his head into his hand. 

He hates that he’s smiling right now. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ November 30th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Thursday

Yuuji picks up his controller remote, which is coincidentally pink, and clicks the icon for YouTube. “I usually do this with Fusiguro or Nobara, but they’re out of commission today.” He leans on your legs, his head falling back on your knees, “Studying or something…” 

You run your fingers through his hair, “I mean, finals are coming up, Yuuji.” You grab another butterfly hair clip, clipping it to his hair to hold his bangs back. “I’ve been starting to study, too.”

Yuuji groans, closing eyes and moaning, “I don’t want to study.” He lets his head fall to the side, which you quickly grab and pull it back on your knees, adding more hair clips. “I don’t even want to take a final, why can’t break just… come.”

“Don’t whine, Yuuji, you’re a smart boy.” You take one of your under eye patches, and place it in its designated space. “I promise you, it’ll go by so quick, you won’t even process it.” You nod, “There, that should feel refreshing for your skin.” 

Yuuji nods, propping his head back up and searching for something on the search bar. “It feels good.” He clicks something, mindlessly telling you, “We should do this more often, I like doing girly things.” 

You giggle, twisting your hair up and pulling it out of your place. “We can totally do that.” You place another pair of eye patches underneath your eyes, and tap them in place. “Although, I’m moving out after finals, so you may have to hurry.”  

Yuuji gawks at this, twisting his head so fast, you think he’s going to break it. “What?! You’re still moving out?” He sighs, shaking his head, “Is it Sukuna?” He throws a dirty look in a general area. 

You laugh, “No, it’s not Sukuna, Yuuji.” You pat his head, “Although the thought is thoroughly appreciated.” You watch as he plays the half time of a super bowl game, one featuring Shakira and Jlo. Of course. 

“Oh, are you two still mad at each other?” Yuuji leans his head back, allowing you to put some star pimple patches on some designated areas. “Or, did you two make up?” 

“Mad at each other? No.” You close the small container which you keep your pimples patches in, before looking to the side and thinking. “Me mad at him? Well.. I haven’t completely forgiven him. But, I’m not as mad anymore.” You smile a bit, thinking about Uraume, and what they did to calm a bit of tension between the two of you. “But, I feel like that doesn’t answer your question.”

Yuuji looks at you with determination, shaking his head. “Stay here. If it is Sukuna, I can kick him out.” He grabs your hands, giving you a curt nod. “Mhm!” You just laugh, hand pressing against his head to push him away from you. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Yuuji.” You tap his forehead. 

“I pay for the house, Yuuji. Please, throw me out, see what happens.” Sukuna snarkily adds from behind the two of you. “Maybe ask our old man for a job while you’re at it. Get you to stop leeching off me.” He grumbles. 

Yuuji flops back into your legs, groaning out dramatically while you giggle. “But I don’t want to work…” The super bowl music starts, and Yuuji springs out of your lap, raising in his arms as he dances in his spot. 

You laugh again, looking at Sukuna and passing him a quick shrug. 

Yuuji is already up again, the system remote in hand and singing Shakira opening half. Moving his hips, and smiling like an idiot. Still, you got to give it to him, he’s actually really good at dancing. A part of you thinks Shakira should’ve had Yuuji as one of her backup dancers. 

Yuuji looks at his brother, passing him an unsure smile, before saying your name. You snap your attention to him, “Hey, can you do all this to him, too?” He gestures to his face, “If you couldn’t tell, his skin is literally crying for help.” 

Sukuna’s eye twitches, “If you didn’t know, I actually take care of my skin.” He moves to stand over Yuuji. He crosses his arms over his shoulder, smirking to himself while adding, “Probably better than you wash your ass.” 

“Hey!” Yuuji yells, pointing an accusing finger at Sukuna, “I wash my face with a soap bar.” He narrows his eyes, “And my ass, too.” He turns back to the TV, wiggling his shoulders to the beat. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, “We can totally tell.” 

Yuuji pauses his dancing for a moment, pointing at you. “Do a face mask on him so he has to shut up.” He turns back to the TV and dances like nothing happened, completely changing up his attitude the moment Jlo appears on the screen. 

Sukuna drops down next to you, making you bounce ever so slight from the weight distribution. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back, “Alright, let's get this shit over with.” He taps your thigh. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Wait, you actually want me to do this?” You push his hand away from you, “I thought this type of stuff would be too girly for you, or something?” Besides, you’re not too keen on touching him right now, you’re not completely healed from the argument between you two. Better than before, but not completely over it. 

You wonder if Sukuna is over it, he did seem relatively upset over what you did. Even if you have no clue what you did. He seems over it, then again, you can never know with Sukuna. Yet, a part of you wishes you do. 

“Just do the shit before I leave.” Sukuna tells you, eyes still closed and his body relaxed on the couch. If you know Sukuna well enough, you’re sure that means he wants to do this, just won’t admit it. 

You can help, but subtly smile. “Then ask politely.” You point at Yuuji’s dancing body, “Your younger brother had no problem doing that.” Yuuji didn’t ask, you forced it on him, but Sukuna doesn’t need to know that. “Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example?” 

Sukuna’s eyebrow twitches with frustration, but he remains silent. Which you think is much better then hurling more insults at you, so you take it as him asking politely. “Whatever.” You grab a pink headband, and place it on his forehead, sliding his hair behind it. You pick a few of his baby hairs and clip them with your hair clips. “You know, I saw you before all this, just mixed you up with Yuuji.” 

“Really?” Sukuna asks, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“Yeah.” You grab a moisturizer, placing it on the tips of your fingers before spreading it to the other hand and placing it on his skin. “I was with Maki when I first saw you.” You laugh to yourself,  “She said you were spoiled.” In nice terms, “Then, I met Yuuji, and complimented his hair, since it was the only thing that stood out to me.” You pull your fingers away, “Looks like Yuuji stole the only compliment I would ever give you.” 

“Oh, how absolutely kind of you.” Sukuna pauses for a moment, recalling the conversation you’re referencing. “Wait, that’s why you said I didn’t work to get here?” He huffs a small bit.

“I was hoping you forgot.” You whisper, gathering more eyepatches to place on Sukuna. 

“I have a good memory.” Sukuna tells you, finally opening his eyes to look at you, “I’m sure you know that, at least.” You don’t respond, just peel open the product and place them under his eyes. “Just so you know, I pay for my and Yuuji’s education. I work for our grandpa.” 

That surprises you a bit, “That’s kind of you.” You feel that's a common thing you tell Sukuna mindlessly. You place the final eyepatch, swiping your fingers over both to make sure they stick. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you leave for work.” You open a face mask, spreading it open to make it easier to fit over his face. 

“Yeah, you’re just really forgetful.” You glare at him, which clearly assumes him. “It’s nothin’ I need to leave the house for, purely mental work.” He smiles to himself, flicking your forehead. “Stuff your little brain wouldn’t be able to wrap around.” He mocks you.

You feel your eye twitch, you slap the face mask over his face. You laugh when he flinches, his eyes shutting from the intrusion. “Uh-huh. Yeah, my stupid girl brain wouldn't be able to wrap around your big man, alpha job.” 

Sukuna shakes his head, trying to hide his smile, “You’re so fuckin’ dumb.” 

You spread the mask over his face, “Yeah, yeah.” You tap his cheek, removing the small air bubble caught between his skin and the mask. “Okay, there.” You grab the package and check the instructions, “Says to leave on the skin for fifteen minutes.” 

Sukuna sits up, about to speak when you cut him off, “Ah, nope! It means no talking for fifteen minutes.” You tap his shoulder a few times, a cheeky smile building on your lips. “You don’t want to get wrinkles, right?” You push yourself off the couch, tapping Yuuji’s shoulder to show him your masterpiece. 

When Yuuji turns to look at Sukuna, his jaw drops, “Holy shit, I didn’t think he’d actually let you do it.” He smiles at his brother, hand holding onto each other while singing, “He’s such a cutie, maybe he’ll let you do his makeup, too.” 

“Both of you come any closer to me, and I will kill you.” Sukuna says with a scowl, pulling up his phone to scroll through it. “Especially, you, Yuuji.”

Yuuji wraps his arms around your shoulder, whispering, “Hear that, he’s got a soft spot for you.” He wiggles his shoulder, singing in your ear, “Maybe, he likes you.”

A pillow comes right between the two of you, but hits directly on Yuuji’s head, making him fall to the floor on his knees. Sukuna cockily laughing behind him, “That’s what you get for whisperin’ like little fuckin’ girlies.” 

Yuuji just collapses into himself, “Why… Why does this always happen to me…?” He reaches a tantalizing hand for you, shaking while he mumbles, “An.. an angel. An angel has come for me…” 

You giggle, naturally reaching back for him, but Sukuna places his body between you and Yuuji, smirking while he slaps his hand down. “Yeah, that’s one hell of a way to put it.” He picks up the pillow again, only to throw it back at Yuuji’s face. 

Yuuji’s reaching for you, again, but your attention is preoccupied by picking a new video to watch. Which… Sukuna feels a small pride in. You’re not paying attention to Yuuji, then again, you’re not paying attention to him, but it’s better than you hanging off his brother in front of him. 

Selfishly. 

Sukuna swears when Yuuji’s hands dramatically falls to the floor, he can hear Yuuji whisper, “Traitor…” Of which falls on deaf ears, clear by the way you're humming to yourself and clicking onto a video. 

“Here, I picked a Selena video.” You say with a smile, placing the remote down. “It’s the intro to her performance at the Astrodome.” You already smile when you see her waving to the crowd. 

Yuuji gains an inhuman amount of strength to push the pillow and Sukuna off him, joining your side and chanting Selena’s name. You’re quick to grab your hair brush, using it as a mic to sing along with Selena’s singing while Yuuji messily follows her dancing on the screen. 

Sukuna merely sits on his heels, looking at the both of you idiots with a dumbfounded look. You’re idiots, you two are actual idiots, maybe even mental. Still, Sukuna is… smiling. A fond look on his face watching the two of you enjoy yourselves. 

More specifically you. You’re hair tied back with a similar fuzzy head band, although yours is decorated with small cat ears and the color white. Some matching colorful clips holding back your baby hairs, and your face adorned with star pimple patches and eye masks.

You’re so weird, he thinks to himself. It’s nice to look at.

Even when you turn to look at him, passing him a face that can only be read as, ‘Stop looking at me, weirdo.’ Sukuna still admires you, passing you an expression you’ve never seen before. It makes your chest flutter a bit. 

“You look dumb.” Sukuna tells you with a smile, laughing when you push his shoulder making him fall off his heels.

“Oh please, have you looked in the mirror?” You say between lyrics, passing him a smug smile as you say, “I’m sure your blonde girlfriend would be on her knees if she saw you right now.” You laugh to yourself, spinning alongside Yuuji. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down with him, “Forget about her.” He tells you, enjoying the way you perfectly fall into his chest, an adorable glare staring at him, “I know I have.” 

You naturally place your hands on the floor, pushing yourself off his chest. “I haven’t.” Your words are directed at something else, and Sukuna knows that. Still, you don’t stand up just yet, you keep your gaze concentrated on him. 

Sukuna looks to the side for a moment, “I’m aware.” 

“I have such a thing for asses.” Yuuji says from behind the two of you, making you turn your head over your shoulder to give him a questionable look. Only to see he’s giving you a mirroring look, “Woah, I literally had my back to you for five seconds, what is happening?” He covers his face, “I feel like I’m interrupting.”

“I’m trying to kill your brother.” 

“Oh.” Yuuji slowly nods to himself, “Fair.” 

You look at the pillow, then point at it, “Pass me that so I can suffocate him.” Yet, Yuuji’s quick by your side, placing the pillow over Sukuna’s face with a laugh. “Or, you can do that, too.” You place your weight on Sukuna, keeping him in place. 

“We got him!” Yuuji yells, looking back and forth around the room. “Someone call animal control!” You giggle, only for both of you to be pushed back, practically sliding across the room as Sukuna sits back up. Yuuji fakes worry, “He’s loose!”

You and Yuuji start laughing again, finding humor in how dumb that line was, while sitting on the ground. Before both you take a moment to stare at Sukuna. You point at him, “Su-Sukuna, your face…” You cup your mouth, trying not to laugh, “..Where’d your face mask go?” 

Yuuji makes a confused face, before lifting the pillow he’s still holding onto. Displaying Sukuan’s face mask perfectly intact and sticking to the cushion. You and Yuuji fall to the floor, laughing hysterically. 

Sukuna turns away from the two of you, his hand placed on his lips. “I-Idiots.” 

Yuuji then proceeds to pick himself up with the pillow, raising it in the air and recreating his best ghost impression while violently sprinting after you. “Boo!” You awkwardly get up, your feet sliding on the wooden floor as you run away from him with a fake cry. 

Sukuna just… watches as this unfolds in front of him. 

And at some point, he swears there is actual terror on your face while you’re running away from Yuuji. Practically, slipping on everything everytime you take a quick corner or round the dining room table. Yuji’s quick on your tail with another scary yell, which tears a real scared scream from you. 

You pass Sukuna a quick look, hiding behind the dinner table. And despite your terror, you’re smiling, clearly enjoying yourself, as you scream, “Help me!” Then, quickly run behind him, hands pressing into his back, “I’m calling for backup, someone get the ghostbusters in here!” 

Sukuna, does something that shocks you both, he laughs. His hand lifts to his eyes while he shakes his head, “You’re so stupid.” Yuuji takes this as an invitation to continue, this time giving his attention to his brother. Only for it to seriously fail and receive a bodyslam into the couch, the pillow long gone. 

Your jaw drops, watching–almost in slow motion–as Yuuji drops, presumably, dead in his spot. His hand dramatically falling limp by his head, his head falling to the side with it. He mumbles, “Brother…?” He blinks, his other hand touching his face, “Is this heaven?” 

“It’s hell.” You quickly perk in, sitting by his head, “I hope you had fun Yuuji, because it’s nothing but suffering and fire from here on out.” You laugh to yourself, pulling his head into your lap. “I swear, you’re always dying on me, Yuuji. It’s like you’re trying to escape from me.” 

Yuuji covers his face with his forearm, “You’ve finally figured me out…” 

You slap his arm, Sukuna sitting on his legs, which you have to think is painful, but Yuuji doesn’t flinch. “Rude.” You mumble, pulling his arm off his face, “What were you saying?” You silently scold Sukuna for sitting on his brother's legs, but he doesn’t move. 

Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow, him looking to the side in thought. “What was I saying?” his eyes land on the screen, watching as Selena finishes her final song to the intro of her performance. “Oh!” He sits up, “Asses.” He says with full confidence. 

You tilt your head to the side, passing Sukuna an unprepared look, before repeating his words with uncertainty, “Asses?” There’s a small laugh hidden behind your words. 

“Asses.” Yuuji asserts, “I have a thing for asses.” 

You nod your head, eyes wide, “Wow. That’s… amazing, Yuuji.” You give him a forced smile, as if he were a toddler passing you a horribly drawn drawing, “I didn’t need to know that.” You stand up, almost pushing Yuuji off the couch as you do so. 

Yuuji throws finger guns at you, clicking his tongue, “Well, now you do.” He falls back down, taking your place on the couch. Yuuji passes you, what he thinks is a charming smile, but looks more scary if anything.  “By the way, you have an amazing–” 

Sukuna hits the back of Yuuji’s head, “Learn to shut your fuckin’ mouth, Yuu.”

Yuu? Is that a nickname Sukuna calls Yuuji? You’ve never heard it before. You put your hand out, “Wait, Sukuna, let the boy speak.” You shrug, turning your attention back to the screen, “He may say something that I want to hear.” You scroll through the related videos, and try to pick another song to listen to. 

Yuuji passes Sukuna a smug smile, “Yeah, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna just rolls his eyes. You give up on finding a video, and place the controller in Sukuna’s hands, silently telling him to pick something. Then, you sit on the ground next to the coffee table, since both boys are taking up the couch. 

Yuuji pulls his legs from under his brother and stretches them, pulling out his phone in the meantime. Yuuji calls your name, “Are you free the whole next week?” You just give a halfhearted shrug. “Well, if you are, Nobara and Megumi are planning on meeting up in the library for the whole week, to study. They just texted me about it.” 

You watch as Sukuna begins searching for a song to listen to. “Oh, that actually sounds really nice, I’d totally be–” You pause, thinking for a moment, “Wait, I can’t on Monday and Wednesdays, I have my club.” You groan at that thought. 

Yuuji tilts his head to the side, “Wait, I thought you liked going to your club?” 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, “No, I do. Believe me, I do.” You sigh, “But, I have to go to every club meeting since no one wants to cover for me. It’s honestly so exhausting. Like, you don’t even have to do much, you just have to check roll-call, yet no one seems to want to take on the small work load. “And with finals coming up, I really need a break.” 

Yuuji hums, pouting ever so slightly, “Sorry to hear that, if you want, I can take your spot.” 

You laugh, shaking your head while turning back to the TV, only to see a video playing. “I feel it coming.” By, The Weekend. You hum to yourself, already nodding your head to the beat. You smile to yourself, “Tell me what you really like.” 

Yuuji nods with you, skipping a few lines before adding, “Just take it step by step.” He pushes himself off the couch, crawling next to you, “You’ve been scared of love, and what it did to you.” He bumps into your shoulder, making you nod in sync with him.

“I feelin’ coming, babe.” You sing, this time snapping your fingers to the beat, your shoulder rolling together. The two of you enjoy the rest of the song while humming parts, eyes engrossed in the music video. Until you turn over your shoulder to look at Sukuna. 

You feel a bit… shocked by what you see. 

Sukuna’s nodding along, his eyes already on you while singing along, and now that you’re looking at him, it feels like you can hear him singing, “You’ve been scared of love, and what it did to you.” It sounds a bit odd, knowing how deep his voice is, but at the same time it’s domestic. A bit intimate to you, never in your life would you think that one day you would see Sukuna singing along to a weekend song. 

You pass him a ridiculous smile at him, nodding your head a bit more dramatically, “You don’t have to run, I know what you’ve been through.” You place your hand over your heart, which gives Sukuna some form of encouragement. 

He places his hand on his chest, “Just a simple touch, and it can set you free.” 

“We don’t have to rush when you’re alone with me.” You mouth back, swaying your shoulders slightly. 

Yuuji leans back, shooting his hands in the air while loudly singing, “I feel it coming,” Which inclines everyone to sing the final lines together with a laugh.

It may seem ridiculous, singing along to a weekend song with Sukuna, but… it feels real. 

Sukuna feels real. 

–

You stretch your arms over your head, letting out a long yawn. “I think I’m clocking in for the night.” You push yourself off the ground, accidentally making Yuuji fall to the floor. Shit, you didn’t know he was sleeping on you. 

Yuuji shoots up, “I’m up! I’m up!” He blinks hard, looking around a bit confused, “Uh, save your tears for another day?...” He lets his head fall back onto the floor, almost as if he had passed out again. This time, without you to cushion his fall.  

You laugh, rolling your eyes, “Goodnight, Yuuji.” You pat his head, which gains you a small smile from him. 

Yuuji pats your hand back, “Night, night.” He curls into himself, much like a puppy. 

A small huff leaves your lips, before you make your way to your room. Sukuna passes you a quick glance, which you return with a curt wave. “See you in the morning, Sukuna.” 

Yet, when you go to open your door, a hand grabs yours. You don’t even need to look at him to know who it is, you turn over your shoulder, the name leaving your mouth like sticky honey, “Sukuna?” Yet, your eyes aren’t on his face, they're stuck on your hand. 

He’s holding your hand.

Albeit, he is holding it a bit awkwardly, but he’s holding you. Last time you were in a similar situation he was holding your wrist, now he’s holding your hand.  A small difference, but it holds more meaning than you can ever imagine. You’ve never noticed before, most likely because you’ve never taken the time to mentally note, but Sukuna’s had it much larger than yours. It holds your whole hand whole, it's warm and calloused. It’s comforting.

It’s far more intimate now.

“You're rude.” He tells you, but for once, there’s no malice in his voice. It’s more calm and playful, shockingly. “I see you clearly have a favorite brother, pretty girl.” 

You raise your eyebrow at him, slowly pulling your hand away to cross it over your chest. “What? Is it that I didn’t wish you a good slumber?” You smile while he glares at you, you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly, “You’re oddly sassy today?” 

Wait, did he just call you pretty girl? “Wait, what did you call me?” You blink dumbly. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Sukuna says, before adding, “Besides, you’re always fuckin’ annoying, but you don’t see me bitching at you ‘bout it.” You raise an eyebrow, which is more than enough said. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you that.” 

You nod satisfied, “That’s what I thought.” You shake your head, “Wait, no, you’re not changing the conversation, what did you call me?” 

“Dookie stain?” Sukuna says with a satisfied smirk. 

“Oh my god.” You place your hand over your face, “I don’t think I’m ever going to forgive you.” And with that sentence alone, the tone between the two of you snapped into something less light-hearted, and more… distant. 

There’s a small silence between you two, and it isn’t very comfortable, nor is it uncomfortable. If anything, it’s more…. The two of you don’t know what to say. Should you say something about the argument? Or, should you leave the topic to simmer, then eventually die out? Maybe, find a completely different topic to talk about, despite how much you want to talk about the argument.

You look to the side, biting your bottom lip gently. Sukuna leans on the wall across from you, “You’re still mad?” Looks like Sukuna can also read your mind. 

You’re hesitant to say, “Not as much as before, no.” You hug yourself, “I’m guessing you’re also no longer mad…?” You give Sukuna a hopeful look, but it isn’t returned. 

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, just softly sighs. “Finals are coming up.” He tells you, and him ignoring your question, is answer enough. He’s still bothered over what happened. Still, a part of you wonders what you did that got under his skin. That makes you feel a bit worse, the fact that you don’t know. Yet, it couldn’t have been that bad, right? 

That thought makes you feel even worse.

You merely nod, not adding to his words. You don’t have much strength to do that right now. Maybe, you don’t have the strength to have that conversation right now, much rather to your own desires. 

Sukuna seems unsure, hesitant to say, “I study at home, if the brat isn’t bothering you, you should come by.” He cocks his head in the direction of his room. “I already know how annoyin’ he can be.” 

You tilt your head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, right now?” You tap your door, “It’s past my bedtime, and I’m actually really tired.” You tease. 

Sukuna scoffs at you, “No, dumbass. Later.” You laugh a bit, knowing that even though you're clearly joking, Sukuna seems to find offense to everything. “Besides, I’m going to… uh, talk to Yuuji right now.” He passed you a look that says a thousand words. 

You feel your lips part a bit, knowing exactly what Sukuna and Yuuji’s conversation is going to entail. And, as much as you are a bit mad at him, you smile at him. Your eyes glowing in the small light of the hallway, while your eyes shine bright at him, “That sound… amazing.” You nod softly, “I’m glad.”

Sukuna diverts his gaze away from you, not able to hold your gaze. “Yeah, whatever.” He crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking your stance. “I swear, you always look at me with that stupid smile. It’s annoying as hell.” 

You’re still smiling, tilting your head to try and look at his face. “What? You hate my smile?” You say, leaning closer to him, “Is that why you can’t look at me right now?” 

“I can’t look at your hideous face.” Sukuna responds. 

“Uh-huh, sure. I completely believe you.” You smile a bit, “I’m sure that’s why you called me a pretty girl right now. Just because of how hideous I am.” Sukuna doesn’t respond, but the twitch in his eyebrow is satisfying enough. “Okay, yeah, we can study later.” You turn on your heel, opening your door, “Since you asked so nicely, Sukuna.” You say animatedly. 

“Didn’t ask for anything.” Sukuna tells you while rolling his eyes, pushing himself off the wall to stand a bit closer to you. “You might actually be going mental.” He pinches your nose, blocking your airway for a moment. 

“Sure.” Your voice sounds ridiculous. Which makes Sukuna smile a small bit. You wave his hand off, turning to your room. Yet, right before you close your door behind you, you pause to look at him. Your head leaning on the door. Sukuna almost perks up at you, expecting something. It’s a bit puppy-like in a way. “Say it.” Your eyes are boring into him. 

“Say what?” Sukuna mumbles back, passing you a disinterested sigh. You just give him an expecting look, similar to the one he was giving you not even a few seconds ago. He loudly—and obnoxiously—sighs, “Good fuckin’ night, loser.”

You burst into laughter at his insult, which doesn’t at all feel insulting, but more humorous. “Bye, Sukuna.” You watch as he makes his way back to the living room, but you call his name again, just to mess with him. “‘Kuna?” 

Sukuna—visibly—sighs, his shoulder slowly raising, then lowering, before slowly turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. “What do you want now, idiot?” He’s glaring at you, but it’s still entirely humorous in your head. 

“Good…” You watch as he eyes perk a bit, and you laugh a bit, you can’t help it, really. “Good luck removing those eye masks, they stain the skin.” 

“Fuck you.” He flips you off. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 1st, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Friday

“It’s done!” You squeal, throwing your hand in the air with enthusiasm. Only for you to collapse onto your computer, “Oh my god, I’m done.” Your eyes close, rubbing your eyelids from the strain of looking at a screen without your glasses. “I hate Gojo, I pray for Gojo’s students next year. This project is literally so invasive.”

Yuuji merely nods, a bit caught up in his thoughts. You can’t help but notice Yuuji seems a bit different, more put at ease, and untroubled with himself. A blissful smile on his face, as his eyes blink with a similar tone, he looks happy. But, not in the sense of grinning ear to ear, but in self… contentment. 

You can even see it in the way he holds his body, his shoulders seem lighter, his smile less forced. It’s almost as if you’re finally getting a glimpse at the real Yuuji, not the one he’s been trying to force into your eye. He’s still Yuuji, but more… real. 

It makes you feel warm. 

You can also see the slight puffiness in Yuuji’s eye. They’re a bit red, and the corners look a bit irritated, too. You assume their conversation entailed a few tears, but you’re not going to point them out, nor are you going to ask. You’re sure Nobara will do that for you.

If anything, you’ll bother Sukuna about it later. Noticing his eyes are also a bit irritated at the corners, too. Not in front of Yuuji, though, maybe when the two of you study on your own, you’ll tease him about it. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning your computer to Yuuji, “Wait, can you check it for me? I feel like it’s too personal.” Knowing Gojo, he’d probably love that. “Should I tone it back some more? Or, should I say ‘fuck it,’ and leave it as is?”

Yuuji leans over, eyes skimming the google document. “I think it’s fine, your writing is way better than any papers I’ve done.” 

Sukuna reaches over, taking your computer, only for you to snatch it away from him. “Ah, you can’t see it yet.” You’re mumbling a bit, your face growing hot, “I still have some comments I need to delete before I turn it in.” Again, you think it’s far too personal for a normal school paper, much less for Sukuna to read. 

Sukuna doesn’t bother to ask, just lets you do whatever. “Weirdo.”

“We still enjoying our Friday out?” You ask Yuuji, pulling your head up to look at him. “It’s our last glimpse into freedom for a month.” 

Yuuji perks at this, “Yeah, Nobara should be swinging by with Megumi anytime now.” He closes his computer, looking at Sukuna sitting across from him. “You sure you don’t want to come, Megumi is going to be there.” 

“You’re acting like Megumi is going to suede his decision.” You rest your head on your hand, looking at Yuuji. “Wait, unless they’re secretly dating, and this is your way of coming out to me.” You turn your attention to Sukuna, passing him a smug smirk. 

“I’ll kill you.” Sukuna says, not taking his eyes off his computer. 

You merely giggle in response, leaning ever so slightly in his direction. “Mhm. Keep talking to me like that.” 

Yuuji blinks innocently, “I don’t know, It might. I think Sukuna likes Megumi.” He narrows his eyes at you, “Wait, I’m changing my answer, she’s going to be there.” Yuuji points at you. 

“You’re acting like that is going to change my answer.” Sukuna rubs his eyes. 

You shrug, “It might.” 

Yuuji sighs, looking away from you with a red face, “Well, I’m going…” 

That makes both you and Sukuna turn to look at Yuuji, a smile building on your lips, while Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek. “I’ll…” He smiles a bit, “I always hated when you pulled that shit on me.” He leans back in his chair, letting out an exasperated breath. “I’ll take you out somewhere this weekend, you good with that?”

Yuuji tries to hide it, but he smiles into his hand. 

You lean close to Yuuji, “He loves you, Yuuji, isn’t that so sweet?” Sukuna throws a pencil at your head, to which you almost tackle him for. You quickly compose yourself, “Good thing you love him, because everyday I fight the urge to take him out in his sleep.” You give Yuuji a small smile, “You’re keeping me sane, Yuuji.”

“Who knew we actually had that in common?” 

“We love Yuuji, or we want to kill–”

“Nobara’s here.” Yuuji stands up, closing his computer and placing it in the middle of the table, which you allow your device to join next to. He laughs to himself, tucking his phone into his pocket, “She also said, Megumi bought drinks, but I think that’s a lie.” 

“Let me grab my shoes.” You push yourself back from the table, grabbing your converse and twisting your feet into them. Tapping them on the ground once you stand back up, satisfied with how they look. 

Yuuji’s already by your side, draping a blue jean jacket over his red hoodie. “We’ll be back around ten, I don’t think we’re going to do anything crazy.” He tells Sukuna, looking over his shoulder to see his brother standing behind him. 

“I don’t care what you do.” Sukuna says dismissively, “Just don’t wake me up when you get home.” His hands are in the pockets of his sweats. 

Yuuji nods at Sukuna, pulling your hand quickly to the car. “See you tomorrow.” Sukuna returns the gesture with a small wave, almost laughing when Yuuji pushes you into the car awkwardly. A small yelp resigns in his ears as he shuts the door again. 

Sukuna softly nods to himself, making way back to the table, grabbing his computer from the center. He doesn’t know why he put his device in the pile when he was going to return not even a moment later, but what was done, was done.

“To finish that stupid assignment for Geto’s class–” Sukuna pauses after opening his laptop, immediately flooded with a pink background, and a splitscreen of a google document. It hits him like a rock through a moving vehicle, this isn’t his computer. 

See, if this computer was Yuuji’s, he would’ve closed it and reached for his own. It’s truly as simple as that. But, it’s not Yuuji’s computer, it’s yours, and the google document open is the research project you did on him. 

Besides, what you don’t know, won’t hurt you. 

Sukuna hides the open webpage in favor of looking at your wallpaper, noticing what he thinks is your family under a cherry tree. But, he can’t spot you, which is a bit odd, you would assume that a picture like this would include everyone–Sukuna pasuses, his eyes landing on a small girl in the middle. 

“Holy shit.” Sukuna mumbles to himself with a smile, trying not to laugh. That small girl is you. You look incredibly young, most likely a picture from middle school. Yet, what he’s a bit perplexed by, is your appearance, a stark contrast to how you look now. Glasses, braces, messy hair, and a fashion sense that screams early 2000’s. 

Cute. 

Sukuna wonders if you still need glasses, possibly changed them out for contact once you hit college? Now, he wants to see what you look like in glasses. Would you look childish, like the picture here, or would you look more grown and dignified. Some other thoughts pop into his head thinking about you wearing glasses, but he doesn’t dwindle on them for too long. Despite how inviting they may seem. 

He opens the document again, immediately meeting with the simple words of, ‘Project, by me.’ He thinks it’s a bit improper, and adds your name for you. You can thank him later for being such a kind roommate, and–now–study partner. 

Sukuna’s eyes naturally fall on the small circle chart at the beginning, explaining the nutrients, and food he intakes. Right next to it is a graph explaining his active life, how much he works out, and practices. Along with the calories he burns, along with what he gains from working out. 

It’s far more extensive than he’s ever noted about himself. Yet, that’s not the part that seems interesting to him, more or less what he’s looking for. He’s looking for personal notes about him. Your… “evaluation,” of sorts. He wants to know what you wrote. 

Sukuna actually spoke to Maki earlier in the day, asked her about the project. 

“What?” Maki asked with a scowl, “Why the hell would I do that?” She places her hands on her hips. 

Sukuna’s quick to say your name, “Asked for an example, just hasn’t had the time to find you yet. Decided I’d help her out.” He placed his hands into his pockets, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently. 

Maki sighed, flicking her glasses to the bridge of her nose, before pulling out her computer, placing it on the picnic table where she was eating. “Fine, but tell her she owes me.” She said with a groan. 

“Nah, I’ll take care of it.” Sukuna said, eyeing the screen Maki just showed him. She did it on her brother Megumi, writing about who he is, analyzing his character, and more specifically, who he is in her eyes. “Hm.” He nodded to himself, “Cool, I’ll buy you lunch, or something.” 

Maki shook her head, “Sure, whatever.” 

Now, Sukuna can’t deny how curious he is about what you wrote about him. Along with the small comments you added to yourself. He’s quick to click the first one. It’s attached to a sentence. 

“Sukuna Itadori – a previous student of yours – holds himself with pride, strength, and dignity. Yet, contains a side to him which no one seems to view, a side that’s more caring then most would note.” 

– ‘Pride is one hell of a way to put it. I already hate this.’ 

Sukuna laughs a bit, clicking onto the next personal comment. 

“Sukuna is an individual that pushes everyone out, in fear of rejection. (Rejection – the dismissing or refusing of a proposal, idea, etc.) However, the rejection feared isn’t tainted in love, or measly relationships written in immature youth, nor is it littered from social cliques which people tend to flock to, but rejection as in the fear of yourself, of never meeting what you pray to become.” 

– ‘That’s all the professor is going to get out of me, honestly, the man is so nosey. Fail me if you need to, I don’t care anymore.’ 

There's another comment attached to it. 

– ‘Sukuna deserves so much better, then just being my stupid fucking project. I wish I could tell him that.’

That makes Sukuna reel back, his heart beating loudly in his chest. A plethora of emotions flooding his head, along with guilt seeping through his chest. It feels weird, something he feels very little of, but it’s real and drowning. You… You do know why he’s mad. 

Now, ugh… he feels a bit stupid. 

Now, he feels bad. 

Sukuna shakes his head, he wants to continue, but doesn’t know if he should. There’s only a few more comments, which can’t be too revealing, it can’t make him react in such a way as the previous one, right? So, he’s fine to continue. 

“I noted that being by the side of an athlete was going to be revealing of his character, however, I couldn’t help but notice the change of mine. I became more nervous, scared, excited, and riddled with anxiety. My personal agenda against Sukuna switching from the one I heard from acquaintances, to something I could piece together on my own. He’s brash, stoic, and pleasing to the eye.” 

– ‘“Pleasing to the eye?” What is this, 1900? I swear, just call him sexy asf, I’m sure Gojo wouldn’t care… hell, he’ll probably understand if anything.’

That makes Sukuna laugh, “She’s going to hate me.” But, that doesn’t keep him away from looking, if anything, it has him clicking your second to last personal comment. However, right before he can get to them, Sukuna notices the massive paragraph break between a conclusion, and the two more comments. 

The conclusion is simple and dignified. However, the paragraph under the break isn't so much. 

“Sukuna Itadori. A man who has managed to flip my world upside down, a complex person of which I feel I will never understand. Yet, I've grown to terms with that. I’ve grown to terms that the only individual I will understand is myself, however, spending time with some else at close proximity, passes me a glimpse into someone else's life, along with their problems and aspirations. I understand so little, yet more than most.” 

– ‘This is too personal, I need to write a better conclusion. Ugh. So close to being done.’ 

Sukuna agrees, mumbling to himself, “It’s like she’s in love with–” His finger clicks the last personal comment. 

– ‘Just say you love him, it’s not like he’s going to see it. Maybe, Gojo will give me a good grade for the confession, too.’

Sukuna closes the computer, then cups his face. 

He’s fine, there’s nothing happening right now, his mind isn’t racing, nor is his heart beating quickly at all. He’s completely calm, not freaking out at all. His…

Sukuna’s ears are tinted red. 

You’re going to kill him. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 2nd, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Monday

You already told yourself–close to a million times now–you put your name on the document. You just don’t remember putting your name, even though you distinctly remember, not putting your name on the document. You shouldn’t think about it anymore, anyway, you turned in the assignment and–

“Madame President, are you okay?” 

“Stop calling me that, I actually hate it.” You mumble to yourself, before standing straight up. “Uh, what’s up?” You glance around, “Are there more papers I need to fill out, or something?” A boy shows you his drawing of him and you, a heart in the middle. 

You smile, patting his head, taking the paper away from him, telling him a silent ‘thank you,’ before looking at your peer. “Uh, no, there’s someone… uh, someone’s waiting for you.” They push their glasses to the bridge of their nose. Pointing in–what you think–is a general area. 

You feel everything around you go blank, the floor sinking beneath you. You want to swallow the lump in your throat, but you can’t. You force a nod, “Uh, yeah, I’ll go… talk to them.” Walking to the person makes your heart pound, your body littered with anxiety. 

Mahito. 

He’s smiling at you like a friend, waving widely and catching the attention of your fellow peers and children. He calls your name so kindly, you wonder if you hallucinated the whole night at the party. “Yoo-hoo! Come here!” 

You feel your eye twitch, your feet sinking into the ground with each step. You pass him a half-hearted wave, “Uh, what do you want?” That sounded really mean, but he deserves it. 

“Awh, don’t be tense with me, I’m not here to hurt you.” Mahito waves his hand reassuringly, before his eyes narrow in on you. “I just wanted to talk to you, little puppy. Without your owner to bother us, this time.” 

That nickname makes you uncomfortable–no, Mahito makes you uncomfortable. “Uh…? My owner?” Is he talking about Sukuna? That makes you scowl, why in the world would Mahito think Sukuna owns you? Just because you spent some time around him–and like him–doesn’t mean anything. “I’m sorry, why are you here?” 

Mahito pushes his hair over his shoulder, his smile widening. “I’m here to talk to you.” He taps your forehead, and his finger is cold, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. “Also, Sukuna sent me for you.” 

“Did he?” You glance over your shoulder, looking at the children and peers playing. It makes you feel a bit sick, you’re in such a tight situation. You can’t cuss him out, nor can you make a big scene. You’re trapped, and there’s nothing you can do. 

Mahito nods, “Yup! He’s asking to bring you to the parking lot.” He places his hand on your head, ruffling your hair, which you hate immensely. “Just wants to make sure his little puppy doesn’t get lost on the way over there.” He smiles at you, “Isn’t that so kind? Wanting to keep you safe from the horrible people out there?” 

You push his hand off your head, “Don’t touch–” 

A hand presses on your shoulder, making you turn. “President, if you need to leave, that’s fine.” They lean in a small bit, cupping your ear as they whisper, “A few of the kids are scared of your friend.” 

You shrug them off, “He’s not my friend.” But, that leaves you in a horrible place to make a decision. You don’t want to distress the children, but you also don’t want to leave anywhere with Mahito. Your head is screaming at you, that is a horrible idea, and you’re going to listen. 

“What? But, I thought we were close?” Mahito takes a step forward, placing his arm over your shoulders, “Is this you telling me that you hate me? That you don’t want to be my friend?” 

Yes. “Uh, I would personally…” You push him off you, glancing at your peer, then the children again. You look down at the drawing in your hands, before softly sighing in defeat. “Fine. Where does he want to meet?” Your head is screaming at you, don’t, you’re going to get hurt, but you can’t be around children with this creep. 

Mahito jumps with joy, humming to himself briefly, “Yay!” He claps his hands excitedly, grabbing your wrist to pull you along with him, but something grabs your hand, pulling you away from him. Mahito instantly turns on his heel with a questionable look, before his face flushes pale. 

You keep your back to them, their chest hitting the back of your head. Their voice is laced with venom, “You really want to die, huh?” Naturally, relief washes over your body, your hand squeezing his. A silent thank you, and gain of strength. 

Mahito thickly swallows, shaking his head, “Let’s stop kidding around, Sukuna, you’re not going to kill me.” He waves off his sentence, “That’s… illegal.” He sounds unsure of himself, passing the two of you an unnerved smile. 

Sukuna merely raises one of his eyebrows, “You want to talk about shit that’s illegal?” He sticks his free hand out, holding it open and gesturing for him to hand him something. “Give me your phone, let’s see what’s on it.” 

Mahito seems to cower at that, shaking his head. “No, actually, do we have practice today? I think I need to be… there.” They don’t have practice today? He turns on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I’ll see you there, Sukuna.” 

You twist on your heel, looking at him, “What are you doing here?” 

“Saving your ass, apparently.” 

“How did you even find me?” You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot impatiently. 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, lifting his sunglasses up to keep his hair out his face. “I didn’t find you, I just remembered.” He’s wearing something that fits along with his sunglasses, a black button up shirt, two buttons popped at the collar, and the sleeves raised above his elbows. He’s wearing some black pants, however, they’re matched with some red jordans. 

“Remembered?” You say a bit confused, “What do you mean, remember? I’ve never brought you here.” You glance at the person with glasses, passing them a quick look of, ‘did I?’ They shake their head shamefully. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, lifting his hand to rest on the back of his neck. “When we first saw each other.” He turns away from you, and, maybe it’s the sun–it’s December, there’s no sun–that’s making his ears red.

You blink a few times, before your eyes widen with realization, “Wait, you noticed me?” You tilt your head to the side, trying to look at him, “Wait, are you saying you were looking at me when you passed by with your football friends. You noticed me?”

“Don’t sound so giddy, weirdo.” Sukuna finally looks at you again, but he pinches your cheek, hard. “Who wouldn’t notice your ugly face.” 

He smirks to himself, but it quickly dies into a scowl. “Looks like Mahito noticed you first.” He sighs, leaning his head back slightly, “If I were you, I would file a restraining order.”

You shudder, recalling the blue-haired man, “Ugh, I don’t want to remember him, or that…” Your voice waivers a bit, before you finish your sentence, “Uh, that night…” You divert your eyes, pulling your hand in front of your body to look at the drawing again. You shake your head, “What on his phone, by the way?” 

Sukuna looks to the side, licking his teeth. “Don’t worry about it.” He places his hand on your head, but instead of ruffling your hair like Mahito, he fixes the messy strands. “It’s nothing you’re ever going to have to worry about.” 

“What does that–”

“You’re a horrible fuckin’ artist.” He takes the paper from you, looking at the drawing. “Good thing you’re becoming a physical therapist.” 

“I didn’t draw that.” You flinch when you feel a small hand tug at the bottom of your shirt, drawing your attention to the artist of the drawing Sukuna is holding. You instantly lower yourself to his height, your hand touching his shoulder gently. 

“Is he bullying you? Mean one.” The boy asks, pointing a finger at Sukuna when he stops signing at you. A small breath of relief passes your lips, you’re glad he’s around with Sukuna, and not with Mahito. 

You laugh a small bit, a smile splitting your lips as you quickly glance at Sukuna. He’s looking at you curiously. You shake your head, “No. Not bullying me.” You pat his head, “A close friend. He’s nice, most of the time.”

“He looks very scary.” The boy tells you, “Is he the boyfriend?” 

You loudly laugh at that, shaking your head. Sukuna hands the drawing back to you, “Did he ask you if I’m your boyfriend?” 

That accurate guess startles you, “Uh, yeah? He did?... Wait, how’d you know that?” You blink a bit at him, taking the boy into your arms as he silently asks for a hug. 

Sukuna shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “A good guess.” 

You narrow your eyes on him, suspicious. “A good guess?” Maybe, Sukuna and Uraume are part Jedi, or something? For some reason, that makes a lot of sense in your head. 

The boy tugs your shirt again, “Is he take you away from me?” 

You smile, “No, he will not take me away from you.” You look up, locking eyes with his mother, “But, your mom is here to pick you up.” He perks at that, quickly twisting around and searching for his mom with an excited smile. You stand up, pointing a finger at the person with glasses again, “You, go sign him out, I gotta’ deal with him.” You cock your head in Sukuna’s direction. 

“Fine, walk your ass home then.” Sukuna turns on his heel, walking away from you. 

You’re quick to grab the back of his shirt, “Wait, you’re taking me home?” You ask innocently, peaking your head past his shoulder, “But, that means that Yuuji’s going to have to take the bus alone, and I can’t do that to–”

“I’m taking you both home.” Sukuna pulls his shirt away from you, “Believe it or not, but not everything is just about you.” 

You roll your eyes, before glancing behind you. You catch a glimpse of all the people and children, before turning back to Sukuna. “Let’s just go.” You whisper, looping your arm with his, “Maybe, no one will notice.” 

Sukuna seems to smile at this, “You’re not going to get in trouble?”

“Who cares?” You shrug, walking alongside with him, “I do everything for that club, the least they can do is let me have a day off…” You look to the side, mumbling, “Maybe, even two.” You smile, picking up your pace when you think you hear someone call your name, you look at Sukuna over your shoulder. “Besides, don’t you need me to study today?” 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, before scoffing a bit, “Yeah, let’s go.” 

You just laugh in return. 

—

You pop another fry into your mouth, “I thought you said you were also taking Yuuji home?” You shut his door behind you, passing Sukuna a quizzical look. “Unless, he somehow has powers and is just invisible?” You use your hands to feel around the car’s area for anything. 

“You’re so stupid.” Sukuna locks the car, turning it on to blast the heater for you. “I just lied to you. He’s out doing some weird ghouls and ghost shit. The weirdo.” He can see the glare you’re giving him, and quickly responds, “What? You were acting too cocky. Can’t have you think I’m goin’ soft on you.” 

“Well, you are.” You lift the Mcdonalds bag, shaking it slightly. “Even if you don’t want to admit it.” You lower it into your lap, grabbing another fry and eating it. 

“I was hungry.” Sukuna tells you. 

“Uh-huh.” You pass him a knowing look, then point at the cup sitting in his cup-rest. “Can I have some of your Mcflurry? Looks good.” 

Sukuna doesn’t even pass you a glance, “Help yourself.” 

You giggle before grabbing the cup, helping yourself to the creamy treat. You know, and you’re sure Sukuna knows the ice cream is now yours, and he’s not getting it back. So much for being hungry. “You’re so sweet to me.” 

“Nope.” Sukuna takes a bite of his burger, nodding his head in approval. Something you noticed all people–more specifically, men–do when eating. You wonder if that’s a psychological thing, or something…

“You didn’t get any fries?” You ask with a head tilt, grabbing a small french fry and lifting it from the brown bag. “Isn’t that the best part of Mcdonalds?” You take another bite of the Mcflurry, a shiver shooting down your spine uncomfortably. 

“Sure.” Sukuna looks at you, taking a bite of his burger. “If you don’t mind dying from whatever shit they put into them.” He grabs his coke, taking a small drink of the dark liquid. 

“Ugh.” You loudly groan, sinking into his leather seat. “Don’t tell me you’re an obnoxious gym-bro who’s gonna’ criticize me for everything I eat.” You twist your head away from him, “I don’t think I’m going to be friends with you after this.” 

Sukuna laughs a little bit, saying your name to catch your attention, you merely lazily pull your head in his direction. “I’m joking, I’m literally eating Mcdonalds with you.” He lifts his burger, testing it back and forth. “You’re bad with sarcasm.” 

You quickly sit back up, narrowing your eyes at him. “It’s not sarcasm if you sound the exact same, Sukuna.” You press the fry to his lips, keeping it there for him to eat, “That’s you being… you.” 

“Hm.” Sukuna opens his mouth and allows you to feed him, “Maybe, you’re autistic.” He says in between chews. He says it so nonchalantly, you didn’t even find it humorous, again, you think it’s Sukuna being… Sukuna. 

“That option is definitely on the table.” You say with full seriousness, before narrowing your eyes suspiciously, “Wait, is this a form of you shaming me?” You point dramatically at him with a fry, “Are you shaming me right now, Sukuna?

“Absolutely.” Sukuna turns on his car, “In fact, I’d call you a whole lot of things in my head, just filter myself since I know you’re sensitive.” He places his hand on your head while looking over his shoulder,  pulling out of the parking spot. “You big baby.”

“Now, we’re just going back to our previous conversation, you do have a soft spot for me.” You pop another fry in your mouth, adding, “You may not be aware of it, but you subconsciously do, which I think speaks louder than any actions, or words you may yell at me.”

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, “You seem very talkative today.” 

You shrug, scooping up more ice cream into your mouth. “I’m just stating the truth.” You scoop another mouthful, but this time, you hold it to Sukuna’s lips, which he takes into his mouth without a second thought.

He mumbles, “And, what’s that?” Sukuna pulls his hand away from your head, putting the car into drive. 

“I don’t know.” You lean your head on the window, a small spark of anxiety building in your stomach as you whisper, “You actually care for me, in a weird Sukuna way.” A part of you wants Sukuna to agree, you want to hear what he has to say. You want to hear it more than anything right now. 

“Wait, I thought you have to eat healthy for Football, or something?” You tilt your head, “Isn’t Mcdonalds totally bad for you, or is this like your cheat day?” Not even that, but supposedly Sukuna only ate things that were perfect, did Mcdonalds also happen to fall under that specific spectrum?  

Now, you have so many more questions. Wait, no, Mcdonalds fries are fair, you completely get it. But, he’s not even eating them?! You’re just making your brain hurt right now. 

“Coach doesn’t care what I eat.” Sukuna shrugs, “I don’t care how I eat, as long as I work it off later.” 

You thoughtfully hum, “Oh. Well, you should probably write down all of this in your app thingy.” You gesture to the Mcdonalds mess in his car. “I can do it for you.” You reach for his phone in his pocket, and he naturally lips his leg for you to retrieve it. 

“My app thingy?” Sukuna questions, but it sounds more like he’s making fun of you if anything. “The hell are you talkin’ about?” Wait, no, he sounds genuinely confused. 

Now, you’re confused. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the side, “You literally let me look at it for my project, remember?” 

Sukuna pauses for a moment, before his eyebrows raise ever so slightly, “Oh, yeah.” He nods, “I know what you’re talking about.” 

You slowly move your hands back and forth, “So…?” 

Sukuna groans, “I deleted that forever ago.” He shrugs, “I didn’t need the app.” 

“Then why did you–” 

“I got it for you.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “I didn’t want to deal with your pestering questions about my diet. Thought it’d be helpful for the situation.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, “Wait, does that mean you got the app for me?” You end up smiling, poking his arm playfully, “Oh my gosh, Sukuna, you got an app to make the project easier for me? Is that why you were really bad at filling out the–”

“Not everything is about you.” Sukuna shrugs off your arm, mumbling to himself. “I swear, you’re so conceited.” 

You pout like a child, shoving your face with more fries before placing the empty bag on the floor of his car. “You can at least let me think you did something nice for me, ‘kuna.” You try to finish the Mcflurry, but find yourself a bit too full. 

“Kuna?” Sukuna mimics back to you, “Where’d that come from?” 

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “What? What are you talking about?” 

“You just called me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” You’re not looking at him.

“Yes, you did.” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“You’re such a child.” Sukuna rubs his eyes, “Whatever, be like that.” 

You just shrug, scooping another mouthful of ice cream and feeding it to Sukuna. You keep silent, and you can’t help but notice the way Sukuna adjusts himself uncomfortably in his seating. “Keep talkin’ to me.” 

You tilt your head to the side, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I want to hear you talk.” Sukuna flicks your forehead, “Dumbass.” 

“You want to hear me talk?” You smile to yourself, “Or, is this a silent way of you telling me you like hearing me talk?” 

“I’m used to you babbly about nonesene, silence from you makes me uncomfortable.” Sukuna didn’t really answer your question, but he didn’t deny it. Which is better than nothing. Honestly, that’s a win in your book with Sukuna.  

“Wow, thanks.” You put the empty cup in his cup holder, shoving the spoon inside. “What do you want me to talk about?” You naturally place your elbow on the center console, leaning your head on your hand. 

“I don’t know.” He rests his hand on the center console, it’s close to touching your arm. “I like hearin’ you talk.”

“So, you admit it now.” You sound more matter of fact, rather than playful this time. Because, in all actuality, you already knew Sukuna felt that way. You huff a sharp breath of laughter, “I feel like you’re making fun of me.” 

Sukuna smiles to himself, “Oh, I absolutely am.” 

“You know what, just for that, you now have to take me home everyday.” 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 3nd, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Tuesday

“Do you think Yuuji will be mad we got food without him?” You shut his door behind you, passing Sukuna a sympathetic look. “Again?…” You pout to yourself, “Hopefully, he’s going out to eat with his other friends?” You grab the trash from his car and stuff it into the paper bag. 

“He’s good on his own.” Sukuna locks the car, making way to the entrance of the house. “He can manage one or two days without Mcdonalds.” He can see the glare you’re giving him, and quickly responds, “What? You want to buy him the food?” 

“No.” You add from behind him, following him into the house. “You already know I’m too broke for that.” Sukuna doesn’t respond, but you’ve grown used to his silence, so it doesn’t bother you. If anything, the small huff of laughter is enough for you. “Do you want to set up in the kitchen?” 

Sukuna opens his room, shaking his head. “Nah.” He walks inside, “We’re doing this in my room.” 

You almost trip over your feet, your face growing a bit hot. “Your room?” You look to the side, then back at his open door. Shoving the paper bag into the trash can sloppily, a small napkin falling out. “We can’t study in the–” 

“Get in here.” Sukuna yells from his room. 

You’re quick to join him, dropping your converse loudly at his door while mumbling, “Maybe, if you would ask politely.” You shut the door, dropping your bag next to your shoes. Mumbling to yourself, “I swear, you’re also so bossy.” You naturally move to his bed, flopping onto the mattress. 

“Yeah, just lay in my bed.” Sukuna says sarcastically, pulling out some textbooks, “It’s not like you haven’t washed your ass in days or anything” Sukuna literally saw you leave his restroom with wet hair in the morning, he knows you showed today. 

You laugh, rolling your body in his blanket, trying to create some form of warmth. “Shut up.” You naturally grab one of his pillows, planting your face in it. Instantly, his scent floods your senses, making you a tad bit dizzy. 

Sukuna feels one of his eyebrows twitch, his face a bit red from watching you shove your face into his pillow. “Stop being fuckin’ weird.” He grabs your ankles, tugging you off the bed and onto the floor, your back hitting the ground with a solid ‘thud.’ “Now, I need to clean my sheets.” 

“Stop being so dramatic.” You let your head fall back onto the floor, a small smile on your lips. “I remember you telling me you like the way I smell, so consider it a–” 

Sukuna slaps the pillow over your face, “Oh my god, you never shut up.” He sighs, sitting down on the ground, laying out his computer and textbooks. “Start doing your damn work.” 

A muffled, “You asked for this.” Leaves your mouth, making you push the pillow off your head. “See, this is why I wanted to study in the dining room, we would actually be working on a table. Not the floor.”

“Stop complaining.” Sukuna’s already trained on his work, notebook and textbook open. “Do your damn work.” You sigh, crawling over to your bag. Sukuna’s eyes follow your body as you bring your stuff in front of him. 

“Hey, do you think my skirt is cute?” 

The question seems random to Sukuna, but he answers nonetheless, “What do you want me to say to that?” 

“Yes.” You say with a playful grin, “Honestly, I would prefer it if you got on your knees and told me, ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen since you’re wearing it!’ but, I’ll take a simple yes in this situation and be happy.” You bat your eyes at him innocently.

“Even if it would save my and Yuuji’s life, I wouldn’t get on my knees for you.” Sukuna says annoyedly, “But, uh, your skirt is fine, I guess.” 

A small spread on your face, “Awh! Thanks Sukuna, you’re always so sweet to me.” You wave your hand up and down, pretending to be flattered. 

“You’re pushing me.” Sukuna says unbothered, looking at his work. 

“That's the goal.” 

Yet, as you’re laying out your things, a small light bulb lights up in your head. “Sukuna?” You place your notebook on the ground next to your computer. Sukuna doesn’t look up, but he does say your name in a similar tone to your question. Acknowledging and a bit indulging. “You’ve never told me what you’re studying?” 

Sukuna lifts his eyes from his computer screen, “I’m studying engineering.” He writes something down in his notebook, answering or writing a question down. 

“Is that what you always wanted to do?” You lean forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the type of work he’s doing. Although, you can’t really see it, to be honest, you can’t really see your work right now. You need your glasses, but you’re not keen on retrieving them from your bag right now.

Not in front of Sukuna, at least. 

“No.” Sukuna places his pencil down, “I wanted to go into business, but gramps told me that was a stupid idea.” 

“What?” You tilt your head to the side, “Why would that be stupid?” You think for a moment, “Well, I have no idea what business would do for you. What type of business would you be dealing with?” You laugh to yourself for a moment, “Perhaps… you’re in everyone’s business?” 

Sukuna’s eye twitches, “I don’t know how you’re in college.” He shakes his head, whispering, “You’re so fuckin’ stupid.” Still, with his palm pressed over his lips, you’re sure he’s smiling right now. 

“It’s a genuine question.” 

“That’s what makes it so stupid. I think that makes it worse, too.” He leans back on the palm of his hands, “But, I wanted to get a degree in business to… I don’t know, do whatever people do in business.” He shrugs, “I knew I was going to inherit my old man’s company, so I guess I wanted to learn a few things before jumping into work.” 

Things are starting to make a bit more sense now. Sukuna had a nice sports car at sixteen, and owns his own house. Then, there was that one time where you ate out with him and Wasuke at a really nice–expensive–restaurant. You’re slowly starting to piece together Sukuna comes from a bit of money. “Wait, but that sounds smart.” You lower yourself to the floor, laying on your side comfortably. Sukuna’s pillow supporting your elbow. 

Sukuna shrugs, “Gramps said he was hiring me no matter what, as long as I worked, so I decided to do something else. I’m not going to pay for something I’m already experiencing at work.” He sighs, “So, I decided to major in engineering.” In simple terms. 

“Hm.” You continue scrolling through your computer, it’s nowhere or anything important, but you’re sure an idea of what you’re supposed to do will come to you in a bit. “Are you excited? It seems like you’re going to be making a lot of money.” You rub your pointer finger and thumb together. 

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”  Sukuna says, closing his computer briefly. You don’t know if it’s a sign of annoyance, or a silent tell that he wants to continue the conversation. “Any reason behind your sudden pestering?” 

You laugh, a small smile on your lips, “I want to get to know you more, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna pauses for a brief second, your personal comment on your project flashing in his head. ‘Sukuna deserves so much better, then just being my stupid fucking project. I wish I could tell him that.’ And, it makes his throat tighten uncomfortably, a sensation he’s getting far more familiar with, then he would personally prefer.

Sukuna whispers, “Really?” Before he quickly covers it with a scoff, “Money, who cares.” 

You can be going crazy, but you swear you saw his demeanor slip. “Uh.. I–I do.” You explain, slowly shaking off whatever you might’ve noticed. “I’d love to have money to burn.” You smile a bit, “Uh, but… doesn’t everyone?” You drum your fingers on your computer, “It’d be nice to have some money to spend on luxuries, you know?” 

Sukuna passes you a half smile, “Yeah, I get it.” 

“Don’t do that.” You wrinkle your nose. 

“Do what?” Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“Smile.” You say, an unserious smile on your lips. “It’s scary, looks like you’re going to murder me.” You search up something on your computer. 

“You’re so kind.” 

“Yeah, this is what you look like.” You flip the screen to him, showing Jeff the killer in picture form. “Think someone posted your morning pictures, Sukuna. Should we go hunt them down?” You turn the screen back to you, giving it a quizzical look, as if you were trying to find the answer to your question on the spot. 

“I’m going to kill you.” 

You giggle, pointing at him loosely. “Only proving my point.” You hook your foot on your other sock, playing with the fabric. “So, how do you plan on doing it? Suffocation, maybe taking me out–” 

“I actually have it written down here.” Sukuna pushes a sticky note to you, it’s pink. “Read it out loud.” 

“Is this a fetish?” You raise an eyebrow, “Do you make all your victims read what you’re going to do to them, or am I just special?” 

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, almost glaring at you, before he breaks. Twisting his head to the side and bursting into laughter, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he tries to collect himself. He ends up covering his face, still laughing while muttering, “You’re so dumb.” 

And, in this context, you agree. You’re absolutely dumbfounded. Sukuna is laughing, and it’s not a pretty small huff, or a brief chuckle, which you’re not even sure you’ve heard him do, but now, he’s genuinely laughing. 

You press your lips together, a tight lipped smile slowly building on your lips. But, you still look at the sticky-note anyway, trying to make out the words, but you can’t. They’re too small, and a bit too messy. “Sukuna, I can’t read this.” You’re just trying to distract yourself, because if you look too long at Sukuna laughing, you know your face is going to break out in flames. 

“Yeah.” Sukuna says, ignoring your words. “You’re special.” Your name follows, punctuating the sentence. 

Your lips part ever so slightly in a silent gasp, before you look away. “I–I… still can’t read it.” You try to ignore what he just said. Still, Sukuna just called you special. You can literally hear your heart beating in your ears right now, your hands are shaky, too. 

“I want to hear you read it.” Sukuna says, tilting his head to the side slightly. 

“Can you…” You slid the sticky note back to him, turning your head away from him. “Read it for me, I genuinely can’t read it.” You can feel your ear burning, before a horrible realization comes over your mind. 

Sukuna dramatically sighs at you, snatching the sticky note from you. “What? Are you blind or somethin’?” He laughs to himself, before looking at the sticky note whispering, “Oh, that’s right, you are.” 

You blink once, then twice. “What.” 

Sukuna presses his lips together, “Huh?” 

“What did you say?” 

“Didn’t say anything.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, watching as his eyes are trained on the sticky note. “How do you know that?” You made sure no one knows that, even Nobara, so how would Sukuna know that? Were you squinting too much at your screen when you worked with Yuuji and Sukuna yesterday, or did he see the family picture on your–

Your stomach drops. 

Sukuna can see your express fall with it. He closes his eyes and tries not to laugh, “Don’t tell me you saw it?” A horrible, twisted realization falls over your consciousness, “You read it?…” You can feel yourself flush pale, an uncomfortable and embarrassed feeling twisting in your stomach. 

Sukuna deeply inhales, “Read what?” The expression you pass him, breaks him. It’s riddled in embarrassment, your lips quivering slightly, as your eyes are ever so slightly watering. Sukuna laughs until his hand, unable to control himself. Yet, he didn’t expect you to do what you did next. 

You tackle him. His pillow in your hand as you place it over his face, sitting on his abdomen as you ignore his muffled laughter. “Shut up. Shut up. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.” You chant, closing your eyes and trying to not reel in your embarrassment. 

Sukuna taps your thigh, trying to tell you to stop, while his other hand tries grabbing your hand, or the pillow on his head. But, you don’t relent, you continue to try and kill Sukuna. Then, the resistance stops, Sukuna’s hands drop limply by his side, his laughter ceasing. 

You sigh with relief, letting your hands fall slack, but Sukuna goes in for the attack. Swiping the pillow away from your and grabbing both your wrists into his grasp. “And you’re calling me the fuckin’ killer.” He scoffs, using his free hand to reach for your bag. 

You struggle in his grasp, glaring at him. “I have every right to kill you now.” You watch as he grabs something from your bag, and immediately you resist even harder. “Absolutely not, don’t even try to—“ 

“I just want to see how you look with them, calm the fuck down.” Sukuna opens the small box, pulling out your glasses and placing the lenses over your eyes. “See, look at you.” He sits up, making you slide down into his lap, your wrist still held together by his one hand. “You’re…” He looks to the side for a moment, “It’s cute.” 

You look to the side, face burning, “You’re so… ugh.” You groan, “Infuriating.” Still, you can’t deny how pleasant it is to have Sukuna admiring you like this. If admiring is the right word in this situation. 

It’s quite for a bit, before you softly sigh, your legs sliding down and relaxing into him. His grip on your wrist looses up nicely, your breathing soft and content. “How… how much did you read?” You finally look at him again, but with the glasses decorating your face, you can really see him now. 

Sukuna’s face markings are so much more detailed than you originally thought, and his eyes… they’re stunning. A deep crimson, looking at you with so much… admiration and awe. They divert away from you, a cocky smile on his lips. He scoffs, “All of it.”

You feel so exposed right now, “All of it?” You repeat, more so to yourself, then to Sukuna. “So, you know?…” You stop yourself, unable to force the words out. You’re too embarrassed. Sukuna nods, turning his gaze back to you. You instantly cover his eyes with your hand, you can't look at him. More so, you don’t want him to look at you. 

Sukuna smiles, his sharp teeth flashing at you, the dimple in his cheek indenting perfectly into his skin. “I can’t look at you?” He cooed, it’s more mocking if anything. 

“No.” You lean back slightly, which makes Sukuna grab your waist, keeping you in place. His smile falters for a moment, and you wonder why. You were just adjusting your sitting. “Besides, you think I’m hideous, or whatever.”

“It’s true, your face makes me laugh.” You annoyedly groan at him, but Sukuna trails one of his hands to yours, his finger hooking over your fingers. “Let me look at you.” He tugs a bit at your hand, it’s not forceful, it’s more asking if anything. “I want to see the girl who likes me, stupid.”

You don’t respond, you don’t even let his hand pull away from his eyes. You don’t know what you do, you don’t know what to do, nor how to respond to his question. You’re merely grounding yourself into the situation, in the way he’s holding you, and his soft breathing.

Sukuna says your name again, only for it to quickly die in his throat. 

You kiss him. 

Your other hand cupping his jaw as you deepen the kiss, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips work with you. His hands wrapping around torso, holding you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. You can feel his lashes flutter behind your hand, his head twisting to the side so he can deepen the kiss. 

You break it, pulling away with your hands at your side now. You chew on your bottom lip nervously. Sukuna leans in again, but you turn away, your hands resting on his chest to push him back. Despite your denial of his advances, he holds onto you just the same. His hands aren’t holding you like they did at the party, they’re gentle, they are soothing, and comforting, maybe even a bit longing. 

It’s silent for a moment. 

You softly sigh, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt while you whisper, “Sukuna?” You see him nod, but keep your eyes on your fingers. Looping your index finger under his shirt and pulling his golden chair for your pleasurable viewing. “Can… we talk about it?” 

Sukuna doesn’t even let a second pass before he responds, and his words make the world fall silent. Your heart is beating so loudly, and your body freezes, your fingers tangled in his chain as they finally process in your head. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your lips part, before you quickly press them together, pulling your gaze to his face. Did he just say that? Did the stoic, unforgiving, asshole, Sukuna… just apologize to you? Your lashes flutter at his expression. Sukuna’s isn’t looking at you, his glare is trained to the dull wall to the right. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

Your heart beats even faster at his expression, your face flushing hot. 

Sukuna is blushing red. 

His cheeks covered in a deep blush, eyebrows furrowed, glaring at you like normal Sukuna would. Except for one thing… his face is burning in a deep red blush, even the tips of his ears are red. He’s embarrassed, very embarrassed, but he still looks angry. 

You move in quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering, “You… you’re sorry?” You shakily exhale, closing your eyes into his neck. “Did you just say that?” 

Sukuna instantly wraps both his arms around you. His hands touching his own sides from holding you so tight. “I’m so sorry, I’m such a fuckin’ horrible…” He groans, leans his head on yours. “I’m terrible, I’m so terrible.” 

You nod, laughing slightly as you add, “Yeah, you’re an asshole.” You softly sigh, “But… maybe, I am, too.” You hold him tighter, your heart longing. “What.. what did I do wrong? I–I feel horrible for asking, but… I really don’t know.” 

Sukuna closes his eyes, “When I told you…” He thinks to himself, “What happened to me. That’s something I’ve never told anyone, but Uraume about.” He pauses for a moment, “And, I really… I value you more then… I don’t even know. That scares me. It’s terrifying.” 

You nod. 

“I was telling you the worst of me, and I didn’t want to know how you were going to react. I hate everything that happened, and how I reacted, but here I was relieving it for you.” Sukuna pauses again, before forcing out, “Only for you to remind me our friendship was only a week. Everything that we were experiencing was only going to be for a week.”

You instantly pull away from him, “Sukuna, that’s not what I meant–” You pause, looking at his expression, his eyes glossy and shiny. You feel something trail down your cheek, before hitting Sukuna’s shirt. You feel your bottom lip wiggle, before your sniff, your shoulders jumping up with a hiccup. You feel dumb, you’re not even as upset about what happened anymore, but the tears don’t stop. “At the party, I thought you were just going to use me and throw me away, but I didn’t want that–”

Sukuna feels his chest tighten, shaking his head, “I thought you were using me for your project.” He tells you, “I thought that's why you told me you were a burner phone.” Sukuna recalls the way his heart shattered when you told him that, doing everything in his power to keep his emotions together. “I thought you wanted everything to end the moment the week was over, and…” He diverts his eyes, “I… I never wanted that.” 

You close your eyes, recalling the following day. “Then, we had an argument.” Your mind instantly floods with memories, recalling the pain and words you yelled at Sukuna, the lies and truths you told him in a fleeting agonizing moment. 

“Yeah.” Sukuna looks regretful, “The stupid fuckin’ argument.” Both of you are silent for a moment, and you don’t think it’s going to be broken for a few moments, but to your surprise, Sukuna speaks up again. “Did you…?” He thickly swallows, “Did you mean those things?”

You feel a bit on the spot with that question, and you don’t know how to answer. Well, you do, but… what about Sukuna? Did he mean the things he said? You don’t want to say something only for him to not feel the same. But, it’s obvious how he feels, right? It should be now, but it doesn’t feel like that. His words bounce in your head clouding your mind with doubt. You’re scared, no, you’re terrified. “Did… you?” 

You don’t want to hear that answer right now.

“When we “first” made up.” You abruptly ask, chewing the corner of your lips, “I asked you if you’d promise you wouldn’t like me. You asked me if I wanted you too.” You push your glasses to the bridge of your nose, “Why?” 

Sukuna remains silent for a bit, before huffing, “This is so weird to me.” He mutters, softly groaning to himself. “I’ve never done this type of thing with someone.” He furrows his eyebrows, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. 

Still, you look at him through your lashes, and hopefully ask, “Do you… like it?” Your voice is a hushed whisper.  

Sukuna wrinkles his nose, scowling ever so slightly. He shakes his head, “No. This fuckin’ sucks.” This conversation is supposed to make everything, but it feels sad, every word that comes out of you, or him makes his throat tighten painfully. He watches as your gaze diverts from his face, and that makes his chest tighten. Shit, he didn’t say that right. “Well…” He starts again, pulling your face to look at him, “I hate it, but… I hate it less, since it’s with… uh, you.” 

You sniffle again, his words holding you in a comforting blanket. The words spill out, sooner than you would like, “I didn’t mean it.” You push your glasses up, whipping your eyes with the back of your hand. “I was just scared, and you made it seem like you didn’t… I don’t know. Care for me, or something.” 

Sukuna cups the bottom of his face, whispering, “I don’t know why I said that.” 

“I don’t know why I said that, too.” You sniff, “I was just…” 

“I didn’t want to promise anything, because I already know…” Sukuna pushes your hair from your face, leaning in a bit closer, “I’d be lying to you.” He flutters his lashes, “And, I don’t want to… lie to you anymore.” 

You nod, eyes pearling with tears, “I don’t want to lie either.” You whisper, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You grab his shirt.“I want to be… I want to be with you.” You hug him again, your tears wetting his shirt. “I’ve always wanted to be with you.” A soft whisper.

Sukuna chuckles, letting you cry into his shoulder. “Why did you say that sooner?” 

“I thought you didn’t like me!” You cry, adding in a hushed whisper, “I thought you hated me. I thought you were just going to leave me the moment the week was over after using me.” You shake your head, gripping onto the back of his shirt, “I couldn’t stand that thought, so that’s why I pushed you away!” 

Sukuna continues to rub your back, “You’re so stupid.” He mumbles, bringing you into him tighter. I could never hate you. I would never push you away. “It’s okay, now, don’t cry like a baby about it.” He adds a derogatory, yet playful, “Baby.”

“I’m so happy you don’t hate me.” You softly sigh into his neck, closing your eyes as your body completely relaxes into his. “So happy.”

Sukuna tries, he really does, but something hot and wet slides down his cheek, and you don’t see it, nor are you ever going to know about it, but it happens. It’s real, it’s grounding, and it’s pulling. “Yeah.” He holds you, “I know.” Arms wrapped around your, his head tucking close to yours, “I know.”

Your body is completely relaxed as you whisper, “I don’t want to argue anymore.” You shake your head, whipping off the final tears on your cheeks, “I don’t think I have the power to argue with you anymore. I want things to be…” 

Sukuna presses his closed eyes onto your shoulder, “I don’t want to argue like we did on Tuesday.” A sharp breath comes out of his nose, “I like the arguments like the one in the car. It’s cute you have a bit of spunk. As much as it is annoying” 

You pull back, a small smile on your lips, “Yeah, your grandpa is right, you do need someone to keep you in check.” You lower your hands to his chain again, “Thank god you have me, right? What would you do?” 

Sukuna nods, “Yeah, I’d be stress free without you.” He raises his hands to your waist, “Who would want that? A carefree life, compared to an annoyin’ little shit like you?” He’s passing you a boyish smile. He’s smiling far more than you’re used to. You like it. 

“Yeah.” You laugh, pulling on a piece of his hair, “Look, you even have a gray hair, now you have a small piece with me wherever you go.” You look  at him again, this time a smile on your lips. “Aren’t you so happy? You’re stuck with me?” 

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you. His pupils blown wide, as his hands gently hold onto you. You pass him a silly smile, “What?” You tilt your head to the side, “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your lips part, your eyebrows raising in silent shock. “Huh?” A small suppressed laugh escapes your lips, “Wait, are you asking me to kiss me?” You tilt your head to the side, “The f-boy Sukuna, the one who had a girl over this very week, is asking to kiss me?”

“We didn’t do anything. It was just a stupid fukin’ project.” Sukuna leans in closer, grabbing the back of your head. “Just fuckin’ kiss me already.” Sukuna doesn’t even let the sentence process in your head, before trying to press his lips to yours. 

Key word. Trying. 

Unfortunately, right before the two of you can kiss again, a strand of your hair falls in between your faces. Blocking the kiss from ever happening. You naturally giggle, mumbling a small apology. But, Sukuna doesn't seem to be fazed. He just pushes the strand behind your ear, cups the back of your face and pulls you into a kiss. 

It almost feels like he’s smiling against you. 

You kiss him back, but his kiss is much more brief, ending then starting again. It feels unreal, Sukuna, the emotionally unavailable Sukuna, kissing you like a lover of years would. 

You’re giggling, sniffling every now and then, only for Sukuna to kiss your cheeks, then kiss you on the lips again. You can taste the salty wet tears on his lips, but you don’t mind, it’s cute in a way. “You’re not acting like Sukuna.” 

He places his forehead on yours and tells you, “I’ll slam your face into my bed, if you’d like?” Sukuna cockily smirks to himself, tilting his head to the side. “Or, do you want me murder you silently?”

“Silently? I feel like murdering me would not be a quiet activity.”

Sukuna nods in agreement, “You’re right. I can set the house on fire with you inside.” He kisses you again, whispering, “Doesn’t that sound romantic? You’d be my first murder. You’re special.” 

You laugh, “Romantic is definitely one way to put it.” You look to the side, thinking, “But, that definitely sounds more like my Sukuna. I wonder if you were an arsonist in your past life. I feel like that’s very on brand for you.” You look at his eyes, and catch a slight red look to them. “Oh. My. God.” Sukuna flinches when you point at him, “You were crying? Oh my god, were you crying?” You huff, “And you’re calling me a baby… hypocrite.” 

He makes a ludicrous face at you, placing his hand on your face and pushing you off him. Making you fall onto your elbows with a laugh, “I think you’re actually going mental now.” He throws the pillow at your body, “I fuckin’ don’t cry.” 

“Not true.” You smile at him, grabbing the pillow and holding it over your lap. “You cried when you talked to Yuuji, and don’t deny it, I totally saw how red your eyes were.” You wiggle your shoulders, “Awh! The big strong Sukuna is actually a big cry baby like me–” 

“I can make you cry.” He’s now leaning over you, the pillow thrown on his bed. “We’ll see who’s the real cry baby, then.” He’s smiling, but it doesn't look inviting or reassuring, sadistic would be the right word here. A small squeak leaves your mouth. 

You blink a few times. “Huh?” Sukuna picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder. This must be a common practice with the brothers, it doesn’t happen often, but it happens enough for you to mentally note. Another noise leaves your throat when he drops you on his bed, parting your thighs and moving in between them. 

Sukuna keeps his forearms near your head, his nose touching yours. “You want to know somethin’.” 

You giggle, “No, not really.” You laugh when Sukuna drops his head with dejectment, his forehead hitting your nose gently. “Fine, tell me, what do you want to say, Sukuna.” You shiver when his nose brushes over your neck. 

Sukuna’s hand moves under your knee, hooking it around his waist. “I’d give anything to make things up to you.” 

You laugh, letting your arms comfortably cross over his shoulders, “You already said sorry, and that’s already enough for me.” You tug him closer, which almost throws him off balance, causing him to stumble into you. “Especially with your big boy ego.” 

“You ever call me that again, and I will throw your ass to the streets.” He kisses your neck, enjoying the way you naturally open yourself to him. Still, there’s a bit of hesitance behind your movements, and that alone makes him stop. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Mentally.” You throw out loosely, but immediately smile, “No, I’m just, uh…” You divert your eyes for a moment, “Uhm, nervous, I guess.” No, you’re not nervous, you’re scared. What if he just… leaves again. 

“About?” Sukuna sounds different, more soft. 

“Uh, this.” You naturally hug him tighter. 

“Should I stop?” 

You take a moment, “...No.” You softly sigh, “I just don’t want you to… uhm, leave again.” 

Sukuna takes a moment, before kissing you again, it’s sweet. “I’m not, don’t even worry about that.” But, your unsure expression makes him hesitate. It’s a bit weird, he’s feeling so many new things today. He wants to make sure you’re comfortable, and he’s almost scared to touch you. You feel like glass to him. 

Sukuna thinks he may be broken, maybe you broke him, but everything that is happening is so new to him. He doesn’t know how to respond, but he does know one thing, he doesn't want to hurt you anymore. He doesn’t want to scare you, or make you cry. He doesn’t want to hear you sob in his arms over something stupid thing he did. He can’t stand that. 

He doesn’t know why, but seeing you like that, hurts him. 

Maybe he is broken. But, every broken part of him wants to be around you all the time. And, he doesn’t know exactly how to comfort someone, or fix what he’s done. But, he’s trying, he’s trying harder than he’s ever tried with anyone before. 

Sukuna may not be the best person in the world, but he’s trying to find a way to build your trust in his own way. It’s the one thing he has always been good at, and almost centralized his identity around. It’s a bit sad when he really thinks about it, but trauma has a unique way of messing with a person. 

He nods, “Okay.” He kisses your temple, “I won’t do anything until you beg me to.” He pushes himself off you, standing between your thighs while you lay down on his bed, towering over you. “You like the sound of that?” 

You feel your stomach twist and turn with butterflies, the feeling of being prey to a hungry wolf has you heating up with desire. “O-Okay.” You thickly swallow, pushing yourself up and sitting up straight, grabbing his chain and tugging him down to your lips. “I like… uhm, I like the sound of that.” 

Sukuna chuckles, “You do?” 

You bite the bottom of your lip, nodding your head slowly. “Mhm.” He cups your face, and his nose tickles your cheek, his kisses coming in fast and soft. Peppering down to your neck, his nose touching your neck like a fleeting feather. While his fingers trail down the inside of your thighs. Goosebumps follow his hands on your legs. 

A pleasurable shiver shooting through your body when he finally slides his hand under your skirt. You whimper, grabbing your skirt and lifting it up, allowing yourself to watch the way Sukuna gropes you. A small moan leaves your mouth, “Keep… uhm, doing that.” You watch as his thumb works painfully slow circles into your covered clit. 

Sukuna nods, eyes enraptured by your thighs shaking around his hand, your pink panties wrinkling and damp from your slick. “Such a slut.” He shakily exhales, “You like this, don’t you? You like when things are nasty.” 

You don’t say anything, merely nod your head. “Yeah, I know, baby, I know.” He says against your neck, his deep voice rumbling against your skin. You feel something warm, and wet slowly move up to your ear. Before his mouth bites your ear playfully. “I know you love the way I touch you.” 

He lowers himself to his knees, flipping your skirt completely up. Allowing himself to look at you for however long he wanted. You move your hand in between your legs, “Are you looking?” You can feel your face burning, your heart beating in your ears. “That’s so embarrassing, please don’t look.” 

“It’s not embarrassing.” He responds, running his nose gently down your thigh. “It’s hot.” He grabs behind your knee, tugging so your legs are dangling off his bed. He smirks to himself, “You’re making me hard.” 

“Oh my god, please don’t say that.” You use your other hand to cover your face, your face burning in embarrassment. But, a small whimper leaves your mouth when Sukuna places his hand over yours, applying pressure to your pussy. You pass him a half hearted glare, “Sukuna!” 

“What? Don’t tell me you hate my words?” Sukuna teases, his eyes drinking up the way you jolt. “Or, maybe, it’s that you hate my voice?” 

“I just hate you.” You mumble, leaning back in his bed, and allowing him to peel off your hand from between your thighs.

“Mhm, I know, babe.” He loves how much he affects you, his voice and words, causing your body to burn and shiver with desire. “Hopefully you can keep to your words when I make you squirt over my fingers.” Sukuna devours the way you shiver at that, your thighs twitching. And, all caused by a few kisses, a light touch, and some deprived words. . 

So cute.

Sukuna grabs your hips, pulling you closer to his face. Lifting your skirt and looking at the thin pink panties that separated you from his mouth. He groans, resting his hand on your knees, pushing your thighs apart to look at your drenched panites. He swallows, blood flooding his cock, straining it against his pants. 

“Okay..” He starts, putting all his weight on his knees. He can see the way your chest is slowly rising and falling, and the cute pink panties that stick to your wet hole. He wishes, more than anything, you weren’t wearing them, but he wanted to toy with you. Just a little. Besides, they would be off in a few minutes, so he isn’t entirely worried about it, he has the patients to wait. “Has anyone touched you here?” 

If anything, Sukuna wants to hear you beg for him to take them off. 

You blink at him innocently, before softly nodding your head. “You have.” 

Sukuna chuckles a bit, “No, gorgeous, anyone other than me.” Both his hands follow the curve of your thigh. Getting closer, and pressing under your skirt. You thickly swallowed, glancing at his hands and face. 

You hesitate to shake your head, but when you do, Sukuna freezes. “Wait, have you ever…?” Sukuna’s still touching you, but it’s more endearing, and less sex-driven. “Has anyone ever gone down on–have you ever had sex?” 

You again shake your head. 

Sukuna feels his cock twitch. “Shit, so you’re really a virgin.” He watches as your eyes divert, “That’s not bad, I just…” He leans his head on your knee, resting it there. “I’ve never been with a virgin.” Sukuna’s been with only a few people, less than he can count on one of his hands, but they’ll all have some form of experience. So, approaching them, and their sex-life is different, but with you, he doesn’t entirely know how to approach it. He wants you to feel comfortable with him, but he also wants you to feel good. 

You push yourself up, leaning on the palms of your hands while looking at Sukuna. “I’ve never done anything, does that make you feel better?” You pass him a silly smile. 

Sukuna huffs, “I mean, it’s kinda hot.” He smiles, his sharp teeth flashing as you, “I'll make your head spin, and your legs shake.” He lifts his hand, tapping your forehead. “Do you want that, you want me to make you feel good?” He watches as your throat bobs, “You want to shake and cry with pleasure while I tongue your clit?” 

You shiver. “Just get on with it already. I feel like we’re talking too much right now.” You laugh a small bit, “I feel like we’re doing this wrong, or something. Are we doing this wrong?” 

Sukuna just raises an eyebrow at you. “You’ve never done this before, how would you know what’s right or wrong?” 

“I’ve seen porn.” 

Sukuna drops his head back, deeply inhaling that exhaling. “Porn is made for horny twelve year olds.” Sukuna smirks to himself, “Wait, don’t tell me you get off to that fake and gross bullshit.” He sarcastically adds, “Dirty girl.”

You flop back down, a small giggle leaving your lips. “I feel like you’re messing with me now. Just do what you’re going to do.” You mumble, before softly adding, “I mean, I want to know why everyone cares about sex so much–” Your mouth parts in a moan, his tongue giving you a hard kitten lick. Eyes bouncing up, and trying to see what reaction you would give him. 

He laughs, “I’ll make you an addict.” Sukuna places his thumb on your clit, rubbing it up and down. “Just promise me you’ll keep your legs wide open f’me. Don’t even think about fuckin’ close them.” He slaps your thigh, making you yelp. “Or, I’ll make you go so brain dead, you won’t even be able to.” 

“Stop talking–” A moan tears through your throat, Sukuna wrapping his lips around your covered clit. Sucking hard on your small pearl, before laughing against your cunt. 

“Did you say somethin’?” He slowly inhales, eyes rolling to the back of his head from your scent. Sex and pure lust, god you’re so fuckin’ sexy. He continues licking your clit, keeping his attention on the sensitive bud. 

You can feel his tongue working against your fabric, wetting it with his saliva and your juices. It’s so nasty, but it makes your eyes cross everytime he flicks his tongue over your sensitive bud. This is amazing. You gasp, your hand clamping down over your mouth to try and keep quiet. A pathetic attempt, really. Sukuna slaps your thigh in response, shaking his head, his tongue swiping left and right as he does so. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about.” He seethes, pissed by you trying to keep quiet. 

Sukuna doesn't want you to be quiet. He’s been robbed of all chances to hear you cry out in pleasure, or his name in ecstasy. Despite this not being his first sexual encounter with you. The first time, he knew you were listening to him jack off, but you didn’t so much as whimper for him. Which was saddening. And, you can only hear so much when the music from a party is playing in the background. Sukuna wants to hear how good you feel. He wants to hear how good he was making you feel.

“What–ah! What if Yuuji is home?” You arch your back, Sukuna sucking on your clit again. “What if he hears?” You whisper, grabbing onto his sheeps, the fabric seeping between the cracks of your fingers. “That’s going to be so–” 

“Embarssin’?” Sukuna fishes for you, trying to finish you off. “I know, but he won’t know, if you stay quite.” Sukuna reaches for your hands, pulling it to his cheek, only to kiss your palm. “But, I don’t want that.” He continues kissing your palm, moving his lips towards your middle and ring finger. “I want to hear you, want to hear you whimper over my tongue and scream my name.” Sukuna smiles, slides his tongue between your two fingers, letting you look at the lewd gesture the two of you are making. “Okay?”

A shaky exhale leaves your lips, before you meekly nod. Sukuna chuckles, pushing your hands to your face, “Good girl.” He keeps your two fingers spread, pressing the open space to your lips. “Let me see your tongue.” 

You feel your bottom lip tremble, before opening your mouth, your pink tongue sticking out and resting between your two fingers. You can feel how they’re wet, and you can taste Sukuna’s saliva. You moan, “This is…” You feel your sentence trail when you notice Sukuna’s gaze trained on your tongue, wiggling and moving between your fingers. 

He closes his eyes, softly groaning to himself. Fuck, he’d give anything to feel that tongue on his throbbing cock. Watch it slide and swirl over the head of his cock, before your pretty little lips would stretch over his fat cock. Drowning in your glossy eyes as hot tears slide down your cheeks, your throat constricting around his girth. 

“Stop thinking too hard about it.” He tells you, his tongue sliding from your knee to your inner thigh, pressing wet kisses into his skin. “It’s supposed to feel good, even if it is gross.” And if Sukuna is being completely honest with himself, knowing that something is filthy makes it hot. He moves to your covered cunt, kissing your lips. Avoiding the place where you want him most. “Just lay down and feel, I clearly make you think too much.” 

You just pull your hand away from your lips, a string of saliva falling down on your shirt. “Okay.” You keep yourself propped up, watching as Sukuna practically makes out with your pussy. You can see how wet your underwear is now, along with how glossy Sukuna’s lips are. 

You keep your hands bundled in his sheets, trying to keep yourself sane as Sukuna makes you feel good. It feels incredible, and looks porngraphic. The fat of his tongue pushing itself between your lips, making a small crater in your panties. The tip flicking your clit, moving up and down like a teasing feather. 

You feel your eyes flutter shut, holy shit, it feels amazing. You don’t ever want it to stop, you want… more. You clamp your thighs together, but Sukuna’s hands are already on your thighs. Pushing them apart and smiling against your skin, “Keep them open.” He shakes his head to the side, his tongue following his movement on your clit. 

You groan, and Sukuna moans with you. Grabbing you right knee and placing it on his shoulder, “Keep this here.” He whispers, continues to suck on your covered clit, watching as your body falls back on his bed. Your back is arching. 

“Oh–oh my god.” You lean your head back, your body hot and sweaty. Holy shit, this feels amazing. Sukuna feels amazing, and it feels depraved. Licking and sucking at your clit, even though it's covered with the thin fabric of your panites. “Fuh–fuck, please.” You moan, tucking your calf behind Sukuna’s head, pulling him closer to your cunt.  

His eyes seem to glow watching as your body jolts, and your pussy twitches. And with the way your panties are absolutely drenched, clinging onto your pussy lips like a second skin, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Please what?” Sukuna mocks, “Please… stop?”

Sukuna isn’t going to stop, there’s no way in fucking hell he’s going to stop, but mocking you, seeing your eyes water, it makes him insane. Hearing you beg and whimper over his mouth, god… Seeing you like this makes him feel… incredible. Knowing that you haven’t done this with anyone else, yet want to do it with him, has him spinning. It makes him feel good. It’s something he’s never had before, but knows he now can’t live without. He has craved for something like this. A hole he’s always adorned in his chest, but never found a filling for it. But now, he feels full, it’s a feeling he would’ve never thought to find, despite how desperately he searched for it. 

Sukuna feels amazing when he’s with you. Even when you’re dancing in his living room with face care adoring your face, a pout on your face while you playfully ignoring him, glaring at him with your reflective eyes, or the small back-and-forth the two of you share. It’s all so amazing. 

But, seeing you like this. Embarrassed and eager for what he was going to do next. Open and vulnerable, trusting and wanting more, it’s… it feels like the best thing in the world. Sukuna feels like he’s becoming addicted to this. He holds the back of your thighs with his big hands, closing his eyes and flattening his tongue on your pussy, tearing another moan from your mouth.

“N-No! Please don’t stop.” You whine, tears brimming your waterline. Your lips part as you moan, gripping onto the sheets as your hips jolted forward, trying to push your pussy harder against his lips. Desperate to get more pleasure from his mouth, you just want to lose yourself in it. You don’t want to think about anything, not school or studying, just Sukuna between your legs. 

Sukuna laughs against your cunt again, continuing his abuse on your pussy. Enjoying the way you try holding your legs apart, your thighs shaking around his head. He tightens his grip on you, not even giving you the opportunity to move them together if you wanted to. “I won’t stop.” He whispers, “Don’t you worry your pretty head off.”

You giggle, sounding a bit drunk, “You–ah! Called–you called me pretty, fuh-fuck, again.” You feel a coil in your lower stomach, something you’re all too familiar tightening inside of you. “You think–oh my god, holy shit, you think I’m–I’m pretty.”

“Fuck yeah.” He moans into you again, “I think you’re fuckin’ sexy, your tits and body, your lips and tongue, all of it.” He wants to add your eyes, but feels himself grow a bit… embarrassed to say that. Ironic, huh?

That makes your stomach twitch, butterflies swarming inside of you. The coil growing tighter, your thighs pushing agsint his hands in protest. It feels good, it feels too good. “Su-Sukuna, m’getting… I’m–” You back arches, your body resisting a bit more. “I’m gonna’ cum, I feel–shi-shit!” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna lolls his tongue out, letting it slowly drag over your over-worked bud. “Fuckin’ cum on my tongue then.” Sukuna closes his eyes, feeling them roll to the back of his head with your soft moans filling his room. You taste so fuckin’ good. 

You roll your eyes into the back of your head, your pussy clenching around nothing. But, you wonder to yourself, what it would feel like to have something inside of you. Something long and thick, stretching you open and fucking your insides until you’re mindless. “Sukuna–Sukuna!” His name leaves your mouth like a mantra, your voice raising in pitch as your legs shake. Your toes curl with pleasure, your hands grabbing onto Sukuna's hair. 

Sukuna instantly moans, loving the way you tug at his hair. Unsure whether or not you want to push him away, or pull him closer to you. “Fuck, c’mon, cum on my tongue, just let it feel good.” 

You finally feel the coil snap, your lips parting in a silent moan as your body tingles. Your thighs naturally pull into your body, opening wider for Sukuna’s tongue working fasting against your covered clit. It feels amazing, it feels unworldly, unlike any orgasm you’ve ever had before. Your fingers don’t even compete to this, it’s addicting. 

The worst–best–part is, it feels so long, and Sukuna doesn’t stop his abuse on your sensitive bud. This time, placing his thumb over it and rubbing circles into it. Making your orgasm even more intense, your back arching in pure pleasure. 

Your hand reaches down for his writes, your mind pulling together only for it to be thrown back into intense pleasure. Something you don’t entirely like, but you don’t dislike, it feels good, but it feels… too good. Like, unbearably, burning pleasure, type good.

Your body grows hotter to the thought of Sukuna touching you without any fabric in the way, the fire in your lower stomach lights a flame again. His tongue actually touching you, his fingers spreading you open allowing him to get easier access to your swollen cunt. 

Sukuna slow stops, watching your legs twitch by his head as he pulls his finger away. “Awh, is it too much for the baby?” He mocks, tilting his head to the side and passing you a cocky smirk. “I thought you were a big girl.” 

You naturally pout. Even if Sukuna didn’t say anything bad, you want to… make him proud. You nod your head, “I… don’t be mean.” You whisper back, “Feels too good.” You pull his hand to your mouth, kissing his palm like he did yours a few minutes ago. You slowly bring your lips to his middle and ring finger, silently admiring how big they are. You can’t help but think how they would feel inside of you, splitting and stretching you open. “I want to make you feel good, ‘Kuna, I want to do something for you.” You open your mouth, your tongue making way between his two fingers. Your tongue is peaking at him, while you flutter your long lashes at him. 

Sukuna feels his brows twitch, his dick straining against the zipper of his jeans. His pupils are blown so wide, you can barely see a ring of red in his eyes. He’s absolutely enraptured by you, his mind swirling with nothing but the way you cry his name, and tremble beneath his touch. 

It feels like Sukuna’s going insane. He just wants to push you further, he wants to see what noises you make when he laps at your clit for hours. Would you cry, or whimper? Would you scream in pleasure, or go numb from it being too overwhelming? Only for him to push his thick cock into your slit, watching your eyes grow wide as your pussy swallows him up whole. 

Your breath grows more uneven with his concentrated gaze, sliding your tongue up the tip of his fingers, and pulling it into your mouth. You whimper, your body flowing with nice tingles again. “‘Kuna, can you please…” You divert your eyes for a moment, before softly finishing, “Can you please do that, without my panties in the way…?”

Sukuna breathes out, closing his eyes for a second before placing his hands on your shoulders and pushing you against his bed. “Careful.” He whispers, resting his dick between your thighs, grinding himself against your wet panites, “I would do anything, if you beg me to.”  

You smile, grabbing his face and kissing him tenderly, tasting yourself in his lips. You tongue rolling around his, “Then…” You pull back, whispering, “Can you please stop teasing me, ‘Kuna, and really eat me out?” You furrow your eyebrows cutely, as you add even quieter, “I really want to feel your tongue on my pussy.”

That makes Sukuna snap.

Sukuna places his hands behind your knees and pushes them to your stomach, keeping them pinned there, “Grab your knees.” He tells you, and you instantly listen, your hands grabbing at your knees and keeping them pinned to your chest. He pulls your panties up, letting them dangle at your foot before looking at you. 

Sukuna looks at you again, his eyes devouring your bare pussy. Wet and swollen, ready for his touch. He keeps himself snug on the bed, places his hands back on your thighs over your hands, and licks a long stripe up your pussy. Instantly you throw your head back, your teeth digging into your bottom lip with pleasure. His tongue sliding between your lips, dipping into your hole, before sliding up and dragging over your sensitive over stimulated clit. 

You whine, your hips writhing against his mouth as your juices slides down your ass and onto his bed. Ruining his sheets, but Sukuna loves that, he loves knowing what the two of you are doing is so filthy, it makes a gross mess. That’s so hot to him, makes him so fuckin’ hard. 

Sukuna moves his hand to his cock, his palm rubbing on the head and trying to adjust his painful hard-on. A feeble attempt to try and release some needed tension, his head spinning from how horny he is. His hips rut into his hand, desperate to feel something, anything on his aching cock. 

Sukuna unbuttons his pants, pulling his boxers underneath his cock and sloppily wrapping his hand around his girth. Groaning against your pussy with an eye roll at the brief, yet pleasurable relief. But, that doesn’t stop him, no, that makes him work his tongue even harder against you. Getting off to every whimper, moan, and breath, that leaves your pretty little mouth. 

You can’t help but notice how much more vocal Sukuna is, and as much as you want to push yourself up and see what he’s doing, but you can’t. Your legs twitch with overstimulation with every swipe, your chest bouncing up with every moan leaving your lips. 

Sukuna pulls his remaining hand on your thigh to your pussy, creating a ‘v’ on your base, then spreading you open. Flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue, making you cry out in pleasure. You try to grip the sheets harder, but it doesn't help, the pleasure is just so intense. This coil of pleasure builds within your belly again, this time it’s faster and more intense then last time. It makes you babble something incoherent to try and warn Sukuna, but to be honest with yourself, you don’t know what you’re even trying to tell him. Your mind is swirling with thoughts of Sukuna, and his actions. How he makes everything around you disappear with something as simple as his tongue.  

You feel tears slide down your cheeks into Sukuna’s sheets, your eyes crossing into your head with pleasure. You babble out, “Oh my god–oh my god.” You hands move back to your thighs pulling them open, and another moan tears from you, he has so much more access. 

Sukuna pushes himself off the ground slightly, places his hands and weight on your thighs, keepings them securely pressed to your stomach as he continues to abuse your swollen clit. His tongues sliding between your lips before catching under your hood, applying pleasure to make you squeal. 

The small act makes your words jumble and moans out of your mouth, your thighs fighting against the pressure and trying to push him off. You don’t want to, but it’s so overwhelming. You don’t know if you want him to stop or keep going. Yet, at the same time, you know you don’t have a say in that currently. 

Which… for some reason, you absolutely love. You love that you don’t even understand what you’re trying to do or say. You love that you don’t even know what you’re laying on anymore, or which way you’re facing, again? But, Sukuna can make out the words, “Fuh–’Kuna, I think… oh my god, please, don–don’t stop! S’close!” Your eyes squeeze shut.  

Sukuna laughs at that, not stopping and letting his eyes drink up the way your muscles tense. You’re close, he knows that you're so close. He sucks onto your clit, watching the way your twitch, before letting go. He pushes his weight off of you, watching as your scrunched expression relaxes, and immediately looks at him with an adorable confused expression. 

Fuck, he loves teasing you.“Feelin’ good, babe?” 

You tense, the feeling being ripped away from you. It feels good, but it also feels wrong. The intense feeling pulled away from you so quickly, it makes you tense. Your muscles are tightening in your lower stomach, you’re so close, but so far at the same time. Then, the intense feeling quickly vanishes making you completely relax into his sheets. Instantly you feel sweaty, your muscles tired and sore. You feel your bottom lips wiggle, “Stop d-doing that! I was…” You trail off, looking to the side as your eyes flutter. “Uhm, you know…” 

Sukuna smiles at this, you got embarrassed. How cute. “Were you?” He mocks at you, caressing your cheek, “Awh, the poor baby wants to cum, you want me to contune tongue fucking you? You like the sound of that?” He rubs his nose on your inner thigh affectionately. 

You pout, “I–I…” You pass him your gorgeous eyes again, glassy and wanting, “Can you please not stop again?”

Sukuna knew he was making you feel good, he could tell by your fucked out face, but anyone could. He merely wants to hear it from you, hear you writhe and beg for him to keep you on the edge. He gets off on that, watching a girl cry from how good something is, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to scare you. So, something more intense, would have to wait for a later time. “I won’t, don’t worry.” He places his thumb on your clit again, “I’m just teasing you.” His finger rub slow and pressured circles on your clit, and it drives you insane.Again, this curling string continues to spiral inside you, pleasure building upon itself. 

Sukuna hums in acknowledgement, before going back to your pussy. Taking two fingers and spreading you apart. Tongues hitting all the places he couldn’t before. He gently bites your clit, letting his fingers trail down your slit. Your eyes widen, before a moan leaves your lips. His finger sliding into with ease, your slick and saliva allowing you pussy to swallow his finger whole. Sukuna groans at this, fisting his cock again. 

Your reaction is perfect, the small gasp you let out when his knuckle hits your lips is liberating. He almost hears you choke on your breath, a bit shocked by the intrusion. But, Sukuna is already reassuring you, praises spilling his lips as he shushes you. “It feels good.” He slowly adds another finger, “Trust me, you’ll love this.” 

You nod, turning your head to the side and resting it, trying to watch as he fingers your hole. It’s not something you’re too experienced with, since you stick to stimulating your clit. If anything, you thought you were broken, since every time you finger yourself, it didn’t feel like anything. Also, the stretch is a bit uncomfortable, but it’s complemented with Sukuna’s tongue, so it’s not all too bad. 

You softly sigh, before closing your eyes. You hold as you feel this prickle of pleasure intense, far more pulling then Sukuna’s tongue. It feels… good. 

Sukuna’s finger slides inside, then pulls out, only to slowly slide back into you, his knuckle resting on your lips again. Pushing his fingers up slightly with every slow thrust. You can hear your voice raise in pitch, growing louder with each thrust and swipe of his tongue. You want to place your palm over your mouth, but you can’t. You’re unable to function, more or less keep quiet. And after a few pumps of his thick finger, you're writhing in his bead with pleasure. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, toes curling as an unexpected loud pitched moan leaves your lips. You feel like you’re unable to express how you’re feeling, you want to desperately pull away, but make it even more intense at the same time. It feels like you’re so close, the coil inside you was about to snap. 

You feel something unfamiliar in your lower stomach. It feels good, it feels somewhat familiar, but at the same time, a bit different. His fingers are still working into your cunt, wet with the slick you’re producing. 

It makes the feeling even more intense, and suddenly, it feels like you’re about to… You feel your bottom lips wiggle, “K-kuna!” You gasp, trying to form words, but are unable to find the right ones. 

Yet, Sukuna ignores your plea, merely smiles to himself while sucking into your clit, and pressing his fingers inside of you. He nods to himself when he touches something spongy, he chuckles to himself, “Fuckin’ found it.” As he presses his fingers up, applying pressure onto your g-spot. 

Your vision goes white. Your back arching as you quickly grip his hair, a high pitched moan leaving your throat as you feel yourself completely let go. The pressure in your stomach releases with a painful orgasm. 

Sukuna’s mouth is already on your pussy, riding out your orgasm while he milks his cock. Focusing his attention on the head with a soft groan. His throat bobs as you finish, your thighs shaking around his head before they limply slide off onto his bed. But, he quickly grabs them and wraps them on his shoulders, giving you a final long stripe up your pussy, watching as your hips twitch in overstimulation. Sukuna cockily smiles, watching you pant and melt into his soft and sweaty bed. Clearly exhausted by the high you just received. 

You look adorable. Your eyes were still watery and red, the bottom of your lip swollen from you biting on it, and your body abused from the pleasure you were receiving. God, it makes him even harder knowing that your first time was with him, too. “Mhm, that’s it. Just relax.” 

A shakily exhale, before humming with a head nod. 

He feels his cock twitch in his hand, but he pays it no mind. Just tucking it back into his boxers and zipping up his pants. It feels gross, but he’ll think about that later. He pushes himself on his feet, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smirk on his lips. He sits down next to you, pinching your cheeks and making you look at him. “You with me, doll?”

You slowly blink, trying to gain your sight again. “What is… uhm, what’s supposed to be…” You drop your head back, his fingers slipping from your cheeks. “What was the question?” You still feel… you don’t even know. 

“Yeah.” He lays back on the bed with you, “Just say you’re in love with me, I promise I won’t make fun of you.” 

You gain your head, blinking a few times to pull your thoughts together. “I hate you, Sukuna.” You turn on your side, flipping your skirt down to cover yourself up. You lean forward, and kiss him. “I already told you that.” 

Sukuna hums, nodding his head while closing his eyes. “Keep saying that, I’ll get hard again.” 

“I hat–” Sukuna raises his eyebrows expectantly, passing you a cocky smirk. “I can’t with you.” You look away, but you’re smiling. Trying not to laugh at Sukuna’s stupid fucking joke. Suddenly, you’re hit with the feeling of your bare legs sticking to your sheets. “I feel gross now.” 

Sukuna kisses you for a final time, “I’ll be right back.” He pushes himself off the bed, walking to the door and pulling it open. You assume he’s going to the restroom, and he isn’t gone for long. The next thing you know, he’s back between your legs with a damp towel. While he cleans you up, it feels a bit intimate, as well as embarrassing. You ignore the lewd comment Sukuna made about you wanting to pull your panties back up. Cockily saying, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

You merely respond with a slap to his shoulder, letting him press the towel to your legs and clean up the mess. And despite how embarrassingly bare you feel, it’s nice, really nice. “We can put a towel on your bed next time.” You say, pushing yourself off his bed and looking at the stain left. You giggle to yourself, “Guess you were right, I did dirty your sheets.” 

Sukuna slaps the towel over your face.  

You immediately pull it off your face, throwing it at his, “Oh my god, that’s so gross!” You place your hands over your face, “I totally need to watch my face, or I’m going to break out or something.” You work so hard to keep your face clear, now this jackass might ruin it! 

“You’re actually a child.” Sukuna says, dropping the towel to the floor. 

The two of you flinch at the sound of knocking at his door, both of you turning your head simultaneously. You smile to yourself, “One, two, three, not it!” 

Sukuna throws the towel back at your face, which makes him laugh when he hears you cry out in anger. You’re quick to drop the towel back down on the ground with a satisfying, ‘plat.’ Turning your attention back to Sukuna to watch him open the door, you see his back tense. His shoulders pull together slightly. 

You sit up in his bed while tilting your head at him. “You okay?” 

“Is that…?” That voice makes your face drain. Yuuji tilts his head to the side, looking past Sukuna’s shoulder and right at you. He instantly lights up, your name leaving his mouth, “Oh my god, have you two made up already?” He loudly gasps, “Wait, does that mean we can have more movie nights?” 

You part your lips, and look at Sukuna when he turns to face you. The two of you don’t say anything for a moment, before you burst out in laughter, cupping your mouth as you turn away from the two boys. Sukuna leans his head back, resting his forearm over his eyes as his face turns a bit red. 

You let out a sigh of relief. You don’t think Yuuji heard. Sukuna straightens himself out, “Get out of the way, Yuuji.” Sukuna pushes him to the side, making his way to the kitchen. “I need somethin’ in my system.”

Yuuji lets Sukuna pass, “We’re out of drinks!” Yuuji calls back, which is responded with an obnoxious groan. You giggle, but Yuuji is quick to eyeball the floor, noticing how it’s scattered with books and computers. “I’m guessing the two of you have been spending quality time together?” He smiles, “You’re going to tell me all about it, right?” 

You don’t know how to respond to that, “Uh… Sure, yeah.” Still, you feel a soft smile split your lips, crossing your legs over one another. Before you quickly pull your foot underneath your ass, realizing your panties are still strung on them. Shit, you really should’ve put them on despite Sukuna’s comments. “We’re… uhm, we’re just studying together. And, he was… making things up to me, I guess.” 

Yuuji tilts his head to the side, “Things are good now?” He passes you a hopeful smile, “No more angsty tension between you two?” 

You giggle, nodding your head in agreement. “Things are good, Yuu. No more angsty tension.” You feel your thighs sticking together, and you resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in distaste. “Yeah, definitely no more angsty tension.”

“Alright, get out.” Sukuna pulls the back of Yuuji’s shirt, pulling him out of his room. However, this time he emerges with a cup in his hand, you wonder if it’s water, or if he really did find some alcohol. 

Yuuji waves at you, “Bye, I love you.” He passes you a sad look with his big puppy dog eyes. 

You feel your heart tug, “Can we keep him here with us, Sukuna?” You plead, which is answered with a silent glare from Sukuna. You pout, begrudgingly waving back, “I love you, too, Yuu.” You blow him a kiss.  

“Yeah, yeah. Cut the bullshit you two.” Sukuna shuts the door on Yuuji, shaking his head while making his way to you. “I swear, can’t believe you say that shit right after you just came on my fuckin’ tongue.” He leans on his nightstand, passing you a teasing look, “Whore.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Slut.” 

“Dick.” 

Sukuna smirks a bit, leaning his head to the side. “Gorgeous.” 

You feel your brain malfunction for a second, “H-Huh?” 

Sukuna grabs his phone, opening an app. The smirk goes wider as he responds, “Dookie-stain.” You’re about to respond with quick banter, when he pushes the screen in your face, “Give me your phone number.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, taking the phone from his hands. “Wow, does that line work with all the ladies?” You put your phone number into his phone, placing your contact name as, ‘LOML.’ You nod to yourself, clearly content with the creative name you picked.

“You tell me.” Sukuna takes his phone from you, sending you a quick text. You can hear your phone ring in your bag from across the room. “Are you obsessed with me already?”

“I mean, you picked out the name for me.” You point at his phone, making Sukuna actually look at the name you saved yourself under. “I think you’re the one obsessed here.” Sukuna looks at the name, and clicks the contact, and you automatically assume it’s to change it. “Awh, I actually like that name.” 

“Of course you do.” Sukuna saves the contact, then pushes himself off the desk. “Alright, get your ass back to studying.” 

“I can’t believe you just ate me out, then are going to make me study.” 

“Do you want me to buy you a cookie?” 

“Actually–” 

Sukuna grabs your ankles, pulling you off the bed again. “Study.” 

—

You yawn, stretching your hands over your head. You can hear the washing machine rumbling in the background, Sukuna’s sheets in the wash for the night. You hear your phone ring again, and you’re quick to grab it, flipping onto your stomach while you kick your feet back and forth. 

You don’t even have to look at the name to know who it is. It’s not like the two of you have been texting all day, despite sitting across from each other, or merely a wall apart. 

Dick-una:

Come here

You smile to yourself. 

You:

im not sleeping with u

gross

Dick-una:

Just come here

You left your glasses

You:

fine.

Dick-una:

Thats what I thought

You wrap your blanket around you, shivering when your bare feet hit the cold ground, but you’re quick to shake it off. Slowly cracking your door open, and tip-toeing to Sukuna’s room. Luckily the door is unlocked when you go to open it. 

You giggle a little bit, “Give me back my glasses.” You can see the room is still a mess, your notebooks and textbooks littering the floor, since you were too tired to pick them up. However, your glasses aren’t on the floor where you left them, they’re now on Sukuna’s bedside counter. The small lamp ever so slightly illuminates his room. 

“Go get them.” Sukuna responds, and you can see him on his phone, face illuminated by the blue screen. He’s wearing black sweats, and nothing else, his hair is messy and unruly. 

You’re already smiling to yourself, closing his door behind you and making way to the drawer. Being careful to step over all the things on the ground, and finally reaching the drawer. “You’re so kind.” You inspect them, “You even clean them for m–” 

You feel Sukuna drag you into his bed, quickly reaching an arm over your body, and turning off the light with a loud click. He taps your back, “Oh shit, did your dumbass fall?” He says, draping his blanket over the both of you. “Clumsy.”

“Ha, ha. So funny Sukuna.” You let go of your blanket, warming up to Sukuna’s body. “I’m leaving the moment you fall asleep.” 

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up, and fall asleep.” He mumbles back, an arm resting underneath his pillow. “Can’t do anything without you annoyin’ me.”

You giggle, closing your eyes and whispering, “Goodnight, Sukuna.” You don’t expect to hear a response, even when you’re seconds away from falling asleep in his soft bed. But, you hear something anyway. 

“Good night.” 

Next Chapter: Ch. 7 - A Lovely Night

Tag(s)!: @openup-yourmind, @sherlock-holmes-jr, @maskedpacific, @gasp-a-homo, @diogodxlot, @beahappyhoeee, @tojimeow, @sukunamylovexoxo, @yoontaedotin, @sukunaloverrr, @lanadelreylover4l, @raininginthemoonlight, @blackjanexx, @ethereally-lyann, @fritzzbitzz, @lanadelreylover4l, @chayunwoo, @madamteller, @mazzd4, @haithamsbb, @c-l-ellis, @samysaha, @pi-crust, @shukiinnkm

Silent Love: Ch. 7 - "A Lovely Night."

⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Seven

Previous Chapter: "Forgiveness?"

Chapter One: New Roommate(s)

Master-List: Here!

.・゜゜・ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:

College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.

Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 34,014

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 4th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Wednesday.

You flutter your lashes open, a soft moan leaving your lips as you adjust yourself in your bed. You can feel a soft stream of light on your face, waking you up from your relaxing sleeping. You instantly shove your face into your pillow, groaning at the sound of cars and birds chirping. Jesus, what time is it? As much as you don’t want to, and how warm and soft your bed is, you decide it’s probably time to wake up. You stretch your arms over your head, and sigh in contentment. You look to the side, noticing that the bedside counter is next to your head. 

You furrow your eyebrows, shouldn’t there be a wall right… Wait.

You blink a few more times, adjusting your eyes into your situation. Instantly, you remember where you are, and why you’re here. It feels like your stomach is bursting with butterflies now, but you try to ground yourself. 

The counter is holding all the things from the day before. Computers, notebooks, textbooks, pencils, and even the sticky-note Sukuna wrote on. You’re tempted to look at the note again, but you catch the sight of the clock on his counter. You feel your heart drop to your stomach, all butterflies evaporating into thin air.. 

You sit up straight, twisting your head to look at Sukuna, “Shit! Sukuna why didn’t you—“

If possible, your stomach twists even harder. The space next to you is empty, void of any form of existing life other than a messy pillow. You feel your eyebrow twitch, before punching his pillow. 

That fucking lying ass son of a bi–

Wait, what day is it?

You feel a rush of nauseous and guilt flood your all at once, when you remember the day. Wednesday. “Shit, I have my club today!” You push his blanket off your body and rush towards the door. You halt on your heel, patting your hips for your phone, only to see it still resting on the dresser, right next to the sticky note and your computer. You pause for a second, moving back and forth before deciding to leave it behind. 

Whatever, it’s not needed. You can always borrow a phone and call Nobara, even if you don’t know her number, or anyone other than your mother’s and a good 3/4ths of your father’s. So, pfft, you’re good. 

You shove your Converse on, running towards your school with halftied shoes. You’re wearing your pjs from the night, and your hair is a tangled mess. You didn’t even have time to wash your face, or your makeup from the previous day. 

Wait, why didn’t Sukuna say anything about your messy makeup when you went to his–oh my god, stop thinking about Sukuna. You mentally yell at yourself, pulling a tight corner and continuing to run. 

Your chest is hurting, not only from running, but from Sukuna’s absence. Yet, you don’t feel like you’ve truly been able to let his actions sink in, but the moment they do, you know you’re going to be a weeping mess. Which is something you really, really want to avoid. 

That backstabbing asshole, such a fucking liar. 

You can feel the gaze of many, passing you unfathomable looks before going back to their mundane activities of life. Fuck them for judging you, and fuck them for having nice cars to take them anywhere they want, whenever they want.

Okay, calm down. You mentally tell yourself. Not everyone that is glaring at you owns a car, nor are they even looking at you. Most likely. Hopefully. 

The moment you reach the campus a few happy tears stream down your face, your feet feel heavy and hard to move, your throat absolutely burning with pain, it’s dry and scratchy. A happy sigh leaves your mouth, before you twist yourself into the direction of the library. 

Pushing open the library doors, and entering with a loud huff. Gaining a rude “Shush!” From the librarian, which you don’t even pay much attention to. You’re rushing to the club room, topping over a small stack of books, which garners you a ring of explicits from the studier, before reaching the club room door. 

You feel another sigh of relief past your lips, and despite how much your body absolutely hurts, you feel a bit better. Even if it’s a tiny, tiny bit. In all honesty, there’s no point in even coming at this point, the club meeting ends in a few minutes.

Until the door smacks you in the face, opening right into you. You stumble backwards, cupping your nose. “Ow.” Your bag’s straps fall down from your shoulders. What is up with doors hitting you?

The person gasps, reaching for your shoulders. “Oh! Madame president, I didn’t mean to-“ They pause, “Madame president?” They sound less worried, and more concerned and surprised now. “I thought you weren’t–”

You place a hand out while keeping one firmly pressed against your nose, cutting them off. “Please stop calling me that.” You shake your head slightly, trying to move into the room. “I have to—“ 

“I thought you weren’t coming today?” They ask you, adjusting their glasses, and placing their hands behind their back. “Are you feeling better? You don’t… look to goo–” They cut off their sentence, not wanting to offend you. 

“I have to come in.” You say exasperated, placing your hands on your hips to try and catch your breath. “Or, no one’s going to fill out the paperwork.” Despite how fucking simple it is. 

“Well, isn’t that why you got a sub?” They tilt their head to the side, “He’s already done everything for you, he’s even learning a few things in sign language as we speak.” 

You feel your eyebrows furrow, “Wait. What?” You tilt your head to the side, trying to look into the room, but you can’t see anything, unfortunately. 

They roll their eyes, “Yeah, next time you have a sub, at least don’t make them obnoxiously attractive.” You watch as they cross their arms over their chest, huffing a small bit. “All the girls have been at his feet trying to teach him simple words like hi, or you’re cute.” They huff, “It’s kinda’ pathetic.” 

You laugh despite your confusion, “Someone sounds jealous.” You ignore their glare, “But, I don’t remember asking for a sub?” Is it Yuuji? “Uh, what’s his…” name? You finish the sentence in your head, but quickly realize where it’s most likely not a good idea to ask the name of someone who you allegedly appointed as a sub. Which… you didn’t even know it was a thing for club presidents. 

They give you an expecting look, fixing their glasses. 

“Uh, I’m just here to make sure things are working out.” You push past them, and immediately you pause at the door’s frame. Your lips part in a silent gasp, a bit shocked by the man standing inside. Now, you don’t know whether to be mad, or touched by his absence earlier today. 

The person who hit you with the door comes by your side, crossing their arms over their chest and huffing. “So, did you know he was coming in for you?” They laugh a bit, “In fact, do you even know who he is?”

“Yes, I know who he fuckin’ is.” You whisper back, passing them a quick glance. “Sukuna. He’s my friend.” You blink a few times, turning your gaze to the floor, your face feels a bit hot. “I didn’t know he was coming in for me.”

“Uh-huh.” They respond back, not believing you. They fix their glasses, “Sure. Didn’t know you were friends with giga-chat frat boys who know nothing, but the bottle of a beer bottle, and pussy.”

“You’re mouthy today.” You snap, “And, don’t say that about him.” You point an accusing finger at them. “He’s so much more than that.” You smile to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest in a conceited manner. “Besides, even with his hot face, he’s still smarter than you, and gets more pussy, too.”

“Sure.” 

You don’t respond, just turn your attention to Sukuna. “What’s he been doing while I’m gone?” You tilt your head to the side, noting the clipboard often held by you at meetings in his hands. 

“Just some of your basic paperwork, simple things, really.” They wave off, “He’s also been learning things.” 

“Did he ask to?” 

“No, the girls are forcing him to. I think.” 

“What have they been teaching him?” 

They force a smile at you, tilting their head to the side. “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?” They push themself off the door frame, passing you a smile, “You two are friends, right?” 

“We are.” You lean on the frame this time, fluttering your lashes. “I’ll see you next week?” 

“We don’t meet for the rest of the year.” They say, playing with their curly hair. “Remember? Finals are going to be a bitch and a half until break.” They pass you a final wave, before departing from the small conference room. Yet, your eyes are trained on Sukuna. 

Sukuna passes a glare at the girl next to him, clipboard in hand while writing something down. But, the girl snatches it from him, saying something along the lines of, ‘Ah, don’t worry about it, I can help with the paperwork!’ Which pisses you off. Not because of her attempt for Sukuna’s attention, but for the fact that she’s doing this for Sukuna, and not you. Who knew people in the club were capable of doing that paperwork?

Not only that, but Sukuna looks… nice today. A college sweatshirt, and some simple black pants. You can still see his golden chain, but this time he’s wearing some matching earrings. You didn’t know he had his ears pierced, or… had that many. He even had the nerve to slick back his hair. 

Jesus, you look like an actual mess. 

Another girl grabs Sukuna’s arm, tugging him in her direction. Which doesn’t last long, Sukuna quickly pulls away, but gives her a look with an eyebrow raised. She’s quick to show him a paper, which you assume has some basic words in ASL. 

You shut the door behind you, which makes everyone but Sukuna flinch. “How did this meeting go?” You ask, making your way to the girl, Jamie, holding the clipboard. 

Jamie awkwardly laughs, tossing a chunk of hair behind her shoulder. “Uhm, it was good. We got all the paperwork done.” She lifts the board in the air, shaking it a bit. 

“Yeah.” You snatch the board from her, seeing that all the information is filled out. “Good to know you’re fully capable of completing the paperwork when necessary.” You pass her a hard glare, which is returned with a sheepish smile. You look at Sukuna, “Did everyone behave?” 

Sukuna’s smirking, “Oh yeah, definitely.” He tilts his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. He cocks his head to the side, “Lilith, here, helped me with learning a few phrases.” He passes her a quick glance, whispering, “Thanks, baby.” 

Lilith passes him an enthusiastic head nod, and smile. 

You feel your eye twitch, “Uh-huh. Is that so?” You place the clipboard in its place, sassily placing a hand on your hip. “And, what exactly did you learn?” 

“I love you.” Sukuna relishes in the way you freeze, but try to quickly shake it off. “And, a lot of other things. Nothing too big.” He passes you a shit-eating smirk, “Why don’t you teach me things? Aren’t you the president, or somethin’?”  

You ignore his slight jab at you, “Really?” You turn back to face them, leaning on the counter. “Good job, Lilith. That’s impressive.” Even though you’ve always been on your phone every club meeting. “I didn’t know you were so attentive.” 

Sukuna nods, “Very attentive.” 

You scoff, “Well, the club is dismissed. No more meetings until next semester.” You say to the girls, passing them a quick wave. “I’ll see you after break.” 

Lilith turns to Sukuna, “Do you want to walk with me?” She asks innocently. 

She’s bold. 

“Oh, I can come, too!” Jamie adds, “We’re roommates, so you won’t have to walk too long.” 

Woah. You feel your stomach turn with unease, something hot and toxic bubbling at the back of your throat. Is this jealousy? You feel your eye twitch with annoyance, watching the two of them speak by Sukuna’s side. Wait, you don’t get jealous, and even if you were, you and Sukuna aren’t even… dating. 

Why are you even thinking about this, you aren’t jealou–“Sukuna?” You innocently ask, which makes him pass you a delighted look. So, he knows what he’s doing. Wonderful. 

Sukuna tilts his head to the side, “Yes, doll?” The two girls seem to mimic his movements, passing you their full attention now that Sukuna is looking at you. Good. 

“Are you going to be home before seven? Or, am I going to have to walk home?” You fake some pain, placing a hand on your lower back. “That’d be cruel of you, especially after last night.” 

Suddenly, the state of your appearance is the only thing the two girls are looking at. Your messy hair, messy makeup, and your clothing which seems a bit more wrinkled than they should be. 

Sukuna smirks, biting the inside of his cheek while looking away from you. “How cruel of me.”

“See, now you have to take me home.” You say with a smile, “So happy we came to an agreement.” You turn to the two girls, “Sorry, but looks like he’s going to be busy, maybe some other time he can walk you to your apartment. 

The two girls huff, and turn to Sukuna for his opinion. “Yeah, yeah.” He stuffs a hand into his pocket, rolling his eyes. “It’s better than walking around with some annoying ass bitches.” For once, you love that Sukuna is someone who says exactly what he’s thinking with no censor. 

The two girls scoff and finally leave the room with a loud door slam. You narrow your eyes at Sukuna, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Shut up.” You turn away from him, arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

“Mhm.” Sukuna hums, slowly moving to your side. “Not going to say anything.” 

You scoff, “You need to learn to control your dick.” You huff, finally looking at him. “Those girls weren’t even that hot, I’m like… way hotter.” 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, “You look like a mess.” 

“That’s not the correct response.” You glare at him, “And, besides, whose fault is that?” 

Sukuna doesn’t respond for a moment, merely stares at you with an unreadable expression. Yeah, you look hot when you’re mad, no wonder he likes messing with you. “Mhm.” He smirks, cupping your face. “I like knowing that.” He moves in close to kiss you, but you quickly shove him away. 

“I know you’re trying to be sexy.” Sukuna gives you an expecting look. And, you are, you mentally think. “But, I don’t feel ho–” 

“You look hot. I’m just fuckin’ with you.” Sukuna says, twisting your messy hair in his hand. “Especially when you are jealous, or mad. Fuck. You should really look at yourself.” Suddenly, Sukuna thinks about doing just that in front of the mirror in his room. “And, I’m trying to fuck you in the club room.” He lowers his head, twisting it to the side to ghost his lips over yours. 

You can feel your thighs mush together from his words, a small fire igniting in your lower stomach. “You’re more open today.” You mumble, chewing on the inside of your lips. Sukuna nods, “But, no. I’m not fucking you where I teach people about ASL.” As appealing as it may seem right now, you have some form of respect. 

Kinda. And, you know, you don’t want your first time to be in a club room. 

“Boring.” He leans in to kiss you but you turn your head away. He sighs, “Stop doing that.” 

“I didn’t brush my teeth.” You abruptly say, face a bit hot with embarrassment. “You’re not kissing me when I know I haven’t brushed my teeth.” There’s a lot of things you’re not going to do knowing that you haven’t gotten ready for the day. Looking at Sukuna for too long with your makeup stained face, is one of them. 

Sukuna lets out a long sigh, almost annoyed in a way. It makes you giggle. “I can bash your head into the wall.” Sukuna juts his thumb towards a wall, leaning back slightly. “Maybe that will give you amnesia, and you’d let me kiss you.” He smirks.

“Romantic, really, but no thank you.” You wrap your arms around his torso, “Next time a girl does something like that, shove her away, or say something like…” You think for a moment, “Uhm, I’m already with the love of my life, and you’re ugly.” 

“You think you’re the love of my life?” 

“It’s what’s on your phone, and we can’t argue with that.” You tilt your head, pressing your cheek on his chest.

Sukuna taps your head, dog-like in a way, “Yeah, no.” He looks to the side, “Besides, if I told a girl that, I wouldn’t get to see your jealous face.” He pinches your nose, “Wouldn’t be able to pass up a chance to see you glare at another girl for breathing in my direction. It’s cute.” 

Sukuna’s response gives you mixed feelings, but you don’t try to dwindle on it for too long. “You make it sound like I’m jealous.” You mumble pulling away from his grip. “I’m not jealous, I don’t get jealous.” You lean  into his sweatshirt, closing your eyes and relaxing into his warm body. You’ve never noticed how warm Sukuna is, practically a human heater. 

“You are.” 

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh.” He murmurs, and the fire in your stomach grows hotter. Dammit, why does he have to have such a sexy voice? It's not fair.

“Fine. Be like that.” 

“I will. It’s not like you’re going to do–shit!” Sukuna yelps a bit, pulling away from you. “Fuck, your hands are fuckin’ freezing!” He shivers, but doesn’t shove you away when you move close again. “Do that shit again, and I will bash your head into a wall.”

“You’re so aggressive. We need to fix that.” You slide your hands under his sweatshirt again, and Sukuna flinches, but doesn’t pull away. “See, it’s not too bad.” You’re also using your cold hands as an excuse to touch Sukuna, as much as you wanted to yesterday, you couldn’t due to the positio…

You blink a few times, feeling your face grow hot. 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, placing his weight on one of his legs. Watching as you cling to him like a child to their mother. He’s used to women clinging onto him, but he’s always found it bothersome, and annoying. Shoving them off, or verbally berating them, but with you… he doesn’t mind it… that much.

You softly sigh, shoving your nose into his shirt. His cologne floods your senses, toasty and dark. “Let's go already, I feel messy.” You groan, pulling away and running your hands through your tangled strands. “I feel dirty. Do you happen to have a brush in your car?” 

“Why would I have a brush in my car?” Sukuna places his hands into his pockets, stopping himself from grabbing you again. 

You play with a strand of your hair, “I don’t know. Aren’t you like?... I don’t know, a fuck boy.” You turn to the door, flipping the light switch off. “I would think girls leave stuff in your car to claim you, or something.” 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, “What makes you think that?” You pass him a knowing look, which makes him bite back a smile. “You’re stupid. I don’t go around fucking people.” He teases, “That shit is gross to me. It’s how you get diseases.” 

“Uh-huh.” You roll your eyes, pushing open the door and flooding brief light into the dark place. “Sure. It’s not like you go to frat parties all the time. I wonder what you could possibly be doing there.” 

“Having a girl suck my dick, is different from fuckin–” 

“You know what? I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.” You’re hurting your own feelings. “Whatever, I’m sure your body count is like–off the charts.” 

Sukuna comes close to your side, his arm brushing against yours with every step he takes. “Three.” He whispers, and you don’t know if it’s him being soft for you, or if it’s the setting that’s making him whisper. “I’ve only been with three girls.” 

You know for sure that one is the blonde girl, but who are the others? Is one his first girlfriend? But, they were only dating for a few months if you remember correctly. “Oh.” You look at him, blinking a bit dumbfounded. “Honestly. That's… way less than I thought it was going to be.”  

“Yeah.” Sukuna places a hand on the back of his neck, before smirking to himself. “Aren’t you a virgin?” As much as Sukuna wanted to make fun of you when he first found out, he quickly realized it wasn’t the time and place for such. You were nervous, and a bit anxious, and that’s not how Sukuna wanted your first time with him to be. However, now, things are a bit different. “Loser.” 

You feel your face turn hot. “I’m never letting you touch me again.” Sukuna shrugs, so you add, “I also want Mcdonalds.” 

“Alright.” 

“Can you get me cookies?” 

“Will you finally kiss me?” 

You smile, “If you get me what I usually get, a Mcflurry, and cookies, I’ll give you more than a kiss.” 

—

Sukuna should already know how you wouldn’t let him kiss you, more or less let him look at you for too long, you were just bluffing. Hell, he went so far to get you Chick-fil-A in the hopes of you keeping your promise. Then again, Sukuna isn't all that upset, seeing your face light up when he pulled into the driveway is more than enough for him.

Suddenly, he feels something punch his shoulder, pulling his attention to you. Your eyebrows are furrowed, “Why didn’t you text me, or leave a note–or something–about how you were subbing for me?” You fume, “I thought you left me! And right after you–” 

“I did.” Sukuna replies nonchalantly. “I texted, and left a note for you.” He laughs to himself, smirking a bit with pride. “In fact, I used the same sticky note from our study session to tell you.” 

You blink a few times, “Did you?”

“Yeah.” He looks at your pockets, or… lack thereof. “Check your phone, I’m pretty sure you left me on read.” 

“I…” You sheepishly look away, scratching the back of your neck, “I left my phone rushing to get to the library.” 

“Of course. Why didn’t I expect that?” 

“Hey!” You throw a tissue at him, “I can make mistakes, but you can’t expect me to make mistakes.” You dramatically bite into a fry, “If anything, you need to expect me to be nothing but perfect, okay?” 

“Whatever.” 

“Actually, if you let me eat your nugget ice, I’ll forgive you.” You pick up Sukuna’s drink, and shake it around, the ice inside softly splashing against the sides of the cup. 

Sukuna raises one of his eyebrows, pointing at the cup. “You want… the ice?” 

“Yes.” You say with full seriousness. “I love Chick-fil-A ice.” 

Sukuna throws his hand up, mumbling, “Take everything else I have at this point.” He takes the cup away from you, and places it back in his cup holder. “I can’t even drink anything anymore.” 

“You can have the drink.” You smile, “I just want the ice, besides, it’s not like you’re going to miss it or anything.”

“You’re…” Sukuna leans back in his chair, tilting his head back to look at the roof of his car. “I don’t think there are words in the English language to describe you.” He shakes his head, “No, I know what you are.” 

“What?” 

Sukuna passes you a sadistic grin, “Autistic.” 

There’s silence again, and you don’t like it. “I think I’m going to cancel you.” You turn away from him, taking a bite of your food. “You’re done, Sukuna, you’re done.” 

“Mhm.”

You let the silence simmer for a moment, before finally speaking again, “Hey, ‘Kuna?”

“Hm?” Sukuna bites into his sandwich. Again, in a very Sukuna like manner. 

You pop a nugget into your mouth, chewing slowly, “I’ve been meaning to ask, but… why did you pick me to be your fake girlfriend?” You steal one of his fries, popping it into your mouth before he could object. 

Sukuna scoffs at you, tilting his head to the side. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it was the blonde girl you were with when your Grandpa caught you, right?” You grab a strand of your hair, “My hair isn’t necessarily that color of blonde.” You’re more than sure that her color isn’t natural, it’s more dandelion yellow then a true blonde. Which you think is more than enough of a noticeable difference between your hair and hers. “Just… wouldn’t it make sense to ask her, the girl he caught you with, then me.” You laugh a bit, “I mean, have you seen my hair? We’re not an exact match.” You sarcastically add. 

Sukuna thinks for a moment, before freezing, as if a sudden cold-chilling realization had fallen over him. He looks at you, his food, then back at you again, “Uh.” He mentally curses to himself, remembering the girl he had over. “It wasn’t… the blonde girl I had over.” He tells you.

You look away muttering, “Whore.” 

“Lock your door tonight, I think I’m actually going to kill you in your sleep.” You laugh, taking a sip of your milkshake. “But, I didn’t have her over. I had some other girl over.” Sukuna’s eyes land on your hair for a moment, before he looks back at his food. “Don’t worry, your hair looked…” He hesitates before finishing, “Your hair looked identical to hers.”

You blink a few times, letting his sentence settle in your head. “Wait, wasn’t that before the project?” You tilt your head to the side, “Does that mean you called her over because she looked like–” 

Sukuna shoves a fry in your mouth. “Eat your food.” He huffs, pulling out of the parking spot in the Chick-fil-A parking lot. “I swear, you talk to fuckin’ much.” 

You hum, finishing the food. “Okay, meanie.” You pop another nugget in your mouth, looking at your reflection in the window. You like to think your hair is rather unique to yourself, hard to find something alike. You pass Sukuna a quick glance. Unless, he purposely asked a girl over who looked similar to you, because he…

You feel your eyes widen. Your lips parted ever so slightly, your face burning with embarrassment. Sukuna started like you… way before the project even happened. To the point where he invited some who looked similar to you over. That’s why Wasauke didn’t get suspicious when he first saw you. 

Sukuna smirks to himself, “You’re starin’, lovely.” He notices you whisper something underneath your breath, “Said somethin’?”

You look away from him, munching on another fry. “Simp.” 

His smile falls, “Get the fuck out the car.” 

You burst into laughter. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 5th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Thursday.

The curtains are pulled back, letting the strong light of the sun into the living room. The sound of a movie playing in the background, while a book laid a few inches in front of your face. 

You’re dressed in simple wear, some pj shorts, and one of Sukuna’s shirts. It’s massive on you, covering your shorts and a good chunk of your thighs. Some fluffy socks bunched up at your ankles to keep your feet warm. 

Sukuna’s thumbs press into the sole of your left foot resting on his lap, your free one kicking up and down slightly. He’s wearing something equally as laid back, some black sweats, and his shirt… Well, you know where his shirt is. 

You’re resting on your stomach, your mind traveling in the world of literature. “Did you know that the most popular romance genre happens to be country?” You mindlessly say.

“Really?” Sukuna’s still looking at the TV. 

“Mhm.” You flip a page in your book, “Anything with the word Texas, or some form of Texas love pulls readers to buy it.” You stop reading, looking over our shoulder. “Hypothetically, of course, if I bought you a cowboy hat, would you wear it?” 

“No.” 

You think for a moment, “What about cowboy boots?” You quickly imagine Sukuna in cowboy boots, wearing a white wife beater, a plaid flannel, and—of course—a cowboy hat. You’re practically drooling. You divert your eyes, mumbling, “That would be hot.” 

Sukuna is almost as quick to answer, but pauses, thinking to himself. “Cowboy boots sound nice.” He props his arm on the arm rest, placing the weight of his cheek on his knuckles. “But, I’d never wear them. Not in the city at least.”

“You could wear them in the house.” You giggle, “It’d be something only for me to see.” 

Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek, “Weirdo.” 

“I’m not the weird one here.” You whisper, turning your attention back to your book. “From what I can recall, you were the one who masterbated to the thought of licking my–”

Sukuna grabs your pinkie toes, harshly pulling on it, gaining a small yelp from your throat. “None of that.” He scolds, “Always so sharp with your tongue.” He smirks, “That’s not the case when I was suckin’ on your–” 

“You know what, I’ll shut up for once.” You roll your eyes, continuing to read. Luckily, the two of you had already completed all your classes for the day, and Sukuna skipped practice. Again. It’s a bad habit he’s starting to develop, and a part of you wonders if he’s only doing it to pass time, or to become an athlete.

Sukuna slaps your back, “I’m hungry.” He pushes himself off the couch, making you fall to the floor in the process. “Let’s go get somethin’ to eat.” 

You lay on the floor, “Right. So glad you gave me a warning.” You soppily reach your hand over the couch cushions, grabbing a pillow, placing it under your head. “I mean, fuck my life, right?” You grab your book, continuing to read like nothing happened. 

“Get your ass up.” Sukuna snatches the book from your hands, closing it and tossing it on the table behind him. “You’re comin’ with me, go get your ass ready.” 

You groan, draping your forearm over your eyes. “But, I’m comfy, and I don’t want to leave the house.” You wave your hand in the direction of Yuuji’s room, “Tell Yuuji to go with you this time, I’m always going with you.” 

Sukuna groans, “You’re so difficult, just go get ready.” He turns to his room, hearing you giggle behind him. 

“Awh, if this is a date you’re asking me on, why didn’t you just say so sooner?” You tease, pushing yourself on your palms, and tilting your head at him. 

Sukuna tenses, the tips of his ears turning bright red. 

You blink a few times, a bit confused on why he reacted so dramatically to your joke, before you face flushes. “Oh my god! Wait, you’re actually asking me on a date?!” You scramble on your feet, almost falling as you make your way to Sukuna’s side. 

Sukuna turns his face away from you, “Hell no.” His ears are still red, “I’d never want to go on a date with you.” 

You pass him a curious look, smiling slightly. “Uh-huh. I’m sure.” You turn to face your room, “Same here, I’d never want to date someone like you, ‘Kuna. Gross.” You laugh again, lighter and lifting the room with bright energy, “I’m going to go get ready.” 

“Shower.” Sukuna calls from behind your shoulder, “You stink.” 

—

You like to think that the color pink is merely a coincidence, not something you picked because of Sukuna. Pfft, please, it’s not like your life revolved around him or anything, and you’ve always loved the color pink since childhood, so… yeah. 

“Are you wearing pink to match with him?” Nobara asks, tilting her head to the side. 

You feel your face flush, “No, I like the color pink.” You mumble, “Besides, Yuuji helped me pick out this dress, so—” 

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Nobara blows on her nails, removing the small excess that came from filing them down. “I’m sure Sukuna will think the exact same things when he sees you’re wearing a dress that perfectly matches his hair.” She grabs a black sharpie marker, holding it up to the camera. “Hold up, let me just add some missing touches…” 

“Nobara.” You whine, face a bit hot with frustration and embarrassment. “Does it look like I’m trying too hard? I don’t know what I should wear since I don’t even know if this is a date…”

”This is totally a date.” Nobara deadpans, “You two are totally a couple.”

That makes you blink, “Wait, is that true?” You place your hand over your mouth, whispering, “I mean, I’m sure he likes me, but I wouldn’t say we’re dating.” You turn to the side, looking at your door. “Like I said, I don’t even know—“ 

“Ugh, you’re so oblivious.” Nobara drops her head on her bed, groaning lightly. “How does everyone know, but you? This is so frustrating.” She pulls her head back up, “Call it a date, I want to hear you say it.” 

You hesitate, but nod, “We’re going on a date.” 

“Hell yeah you are.” Nobara gives you a thumbs up, nodding her head enthusiastically. “Now, remember to wear some cute matching underwear. He’s totally going to give it to you later tonight.” She smirks, “Rock your world, some would say.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“I didn’t say that.” Nobara places her hand on her chest, “Some said that. Very clear difference.” 

“I can’t with you.” You continue to do your makeup, before biting the side of your cheek. “Do you think the matching set should be pink?” 

“That’s the spirit!”

—-

It isn’t long before you’re happy with your look. Your hair styled perfectly, makeup and lashes done, along with some cute intricate heels. They’re a bit dramatic, but cute nonetheless, and they were expensive, so you’re going to wear them like a badge of honor. 

It makes you wonder why you don't wear heels more often? The last time you wore them it wasn’t bad at all. Took awhile to get used to walking in them, but after that you were good. They’re gorgeous, and make your legs look amazing. 

Maybe you will start wearing them more often. They would be an amazing incorporation to your already cute outfits. 

The dress you’re wearing is also incredibly cute. A skin tight tube top, while the bottom flared out with ruffles. A part of you thinks to grab a sweater, but it’s not like it’s going to be that cold, and it would ruin your outfit! 

You grab your things and leave your room, glancing into Yuuji’s room considering the door is wide open. You smile, passing him a kind wave. “Hey, Yuu.” 

Yuuji looks away from his phone, eyeing you up and down. There’s a subtle smile on his lips as he says, “A date?” He sits up, placing his phone down. “Did he finally ask you out on a date?” 

You naturally want to say no, but you hesitate, a small smile splitting your lips. “Uh, yeah, he finally asked me on a date.” You push a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Good to know he finally grew some balls.” Yuuji pushes himself off his bed, “Sukuna’s lucky, too. You deserve so much better than my emotionally underdeveloped brother.” He rolls his eyes, before grabbing your hands. His expression is hard, “If he does something that upsets you, call me. I’ll fucking kill him for you.” 

You blink a few times in shock. Is that the first time you’ve ever heard Yuuji cuss? You didn’t even know that was possible. You stutter out a laugh, before nodding your head enthusiastically. “Yeah, don’t worry Yuuji. I’ll totally call you if he starts acting up.” 

Yuuji nods with determination, “Good.” He smiles again, his eyebrows soft again. “You look amazing, by the way. Absolutely stunning.” 

You laugh, looking to the side. “Thanks Yuuji.” You look him up and down, “You look good too, are you going somewhere?” 

Yuuji places his hand on the back of his neck, taking a few steps back from you. “Uh, yeah.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, “A friend of mine from middle school asked to catch up. So, I want to look nice.” 

You smirk, “Is this person a girl, by chance?” 

Yuuji shakes his head, his face flushed. “It’s not like that.” His  eyes light up for a moment, “Wait, I have something for you.” Yuuji moves to his drawer, and fishes for a tiny box inside. 

You tilt your head, taking a few steps closer. “A box?” 

“Yeah.” Yuuji smiles, holding it out for you. “I got it for my ex-girlfriend forever ago, but you can have it.” 

You feel your eye twitch. You don’t really know how to feel about that, but with the way Yuuji is smiling at you without a care in the world, you know he means it with pure intentions. “Uh, thanks Yuuji.” You grab it from him, removing the top and looking at the shining jewelry.

It’s gorgeous. A pair of matching earrings and a necklace perfectly held in the velvet padding. Silver and diamonds forming an intricate design that matches the earrings. Your lips part ever so slightly, “Yuu, this is…” 

Yuuji nods to himself, “I know. I’m an awesome best friend.” He places a hand on your shoulder, a smug smile on his lips. “No need to thank me, I already know you’re thankful.” 

You grab him in a hug, “Yeah, I don’t need to thank you.” You giggle into his shoulder, “But, thanks anyway.” You pull away, grabbing the earrings and putting them on, along with the matching necklace. “Does it look good?” 

Yuuji nods his head, a soft smile on his lips. “It’s perfect.”

“Are you ready to go?” Sukuna brassly asks behind you, his forearm resting on the door frame of Yuuji’s door. “I’ve been waitin’ for… hours…” 

You turn over your shoulder, your hair bouncing with life as you do so. You blink at him, your fake lashes fluttering. You pout slightly, pinching a strand of hair and rubbing it between your fingers, “I didn’t take that long.” You mutter sheepishly. 

Sukuna pauses, his lips parting before closing. He looks to the side, “Whatever.” He bites the inside of his cheek, “It’s cold, go get a sweater.” Sukuna, unlike you, is wearing a sweater. A nice zip up to decorate his black clothing. His gold chain accentuated, while a matching gold ring rested on his ring finger. He looks nice, really nice. 

“You’re not going to compliment her?” Yuuji places his elbow on your shoulder, resting a bit of his weight on you. “Actually, you don’t have to, I already did that for you.” He winks at Sukuna, passing him a smug smirk. “I got you.” 

Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes trained on Yuuji. “Did you?” 

You nod enthusiastically, picking up on what Yuuji is doing. “Yeah!” You take a step forward, pushing your hair behind your shoulders to reveal the earrings he gave you. “And he also gave me these earrings! Aren’t they cute?”

Sukuna laughs through his teeth, “Adorable.” 

You blink at him innocently, leaning forward to let the necklace dangle right in front of your cleavage. “He also gave me this necklace, isn’t it just lovely?” You place your hand over your heart, showing off the jewelry. “I think it’s the sweetest thing ever.”

”Go get a jacket.” Sukuna pushes himself off the door frame, “We’re getting somethin’ that isn’t hideous.” He scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. “Yuuji has horrible taste, let’s get you something nice.” He makes his way to the kitchen, leaving you and Yuuji alone in his room.  

You turn, placing your hand on your hip. “No, my outfit would be ruined if I wore a jacket.” You pass Yuuji a quick smile and thumbs up, which is quickly returned by an equally enthusiastic Yuuji. “And I like what Yuuji gave me, it’s cute.” You follow after Sukuna. 

“That shit is ugly.” Sukuna grabs his keys. “If your ass starts freezing, I’m just going to point and laugh at you.” 

You roll your eyes, “Why am I choosing to leave with you?” Your heels click as you follow Sukuna into his car.  

“Don’t know.” Sukuna smiles, opening the door for you. “Maybe you’re obsessed with me, or something.” He places his hand atop your head, patting it a few times. You sit in his car, not bothering to respond. 

—-

Sukuna parks his car, with a soft beep, before reaching for the door. The car ride here was mostly silent, other than you asking some simple questions about where he’s taking you, and if he genuinely plans on murdering you today. Sukuna’s silence is normal, you’re used to it, but after you saw how Yuuji got under his skin, you sincerely think he might murder you today. 

“We’re here.” He adds, before shutting the door behind him. You immediately go to open your door, but Sukuna locks the car with you inside, making your attempts feeble. You groan with annoyance, tilting your head to look at him through the window. 

“Unlock the car.” You mumble. 

Sukuna cups the back of his ear, smirking. You can see, and hear, him mouth, “What?” 

You lean back in the car, and really contemplate; Is this the guy you like? Someone who is a little shit, and does everything in their power to get under your skin. You giggle to yourself, nodding your head. Hell yeah. You flash him an obvious fake smile, and clasp your hands together, “Please, open the door.” 

Sukuna unlocks the car, opening the door for you, and you don’t know if he was being nice to you, or if he was genuinely trying to get under your skin. “Mh. Love when you say that.” He grabs your hand, and yanks you out of the car, slamming you against his body. “Oops, forget how clumsy you are sometimes.” 

You shake your head, “And I forget how fuckin’ stupid you are sometimes.” You hear him shut the door behind you, locking the car again. “Why can’t you be a normal boyfriend, and just open the door for me like a gentleman?” 

“So, I’m your boyfriend now?” 

You feel your face flush, pushing Sukuna away from you, “Uh–I… that’s not what I meant.” You move forward, pushing your hair behind your shoulder, “I was just being hypothetical.” You huff. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes with a knowing smirk, “Sure, doll.” 

You cross your arms over your shoulders, small goosebumps erupting over your skin. “Ugh. I hate that nickname.” You immediately notice you’re in the parking lot of a mall. The biggest one in the city. You’ve only been here a few times, considering you’re more of a shopper, rather than window shopping person.  

Sukuna walks right behind you, hand on the small of your back. “I hate you call me ‘Kuna.” He grimaces a bit, “That shit is so stupid.” 

“That nickname isn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.” You pause, letting him come to your side and looping your arms over his right one. Sukuna doesn’t even flinch, nor does he pull away, if anything, he moves his arm to allow you to grab it better. You cling onto his warmth, “I think knowing that you hate it, make me like it even more.” 

“I feel like the only reason you were born was to annoy me.” He pushes open the doors to the mall, and the bubbling sound of various conversations and mall music floods your ears. The smell of food and sweets entering your senses.

You wrinkle your nose, “Don’t say that. It makes it seem like we’re soulmates, or born for each other.” You shake your head, turning your head away from Sukuna so he can’t see the smile on your lips. “Gross. Imagine?” 

“Fuck you, too.”

You giggle, squinting, as the sun from the skylight beams in your eyes. “You know, I’ve been wondering, why don’t you have a girlfriend?” You think of the blonde girl for a second, she makes you scowl. “Or, are you more into the casual hookups.” 

Sukuna places his sunglasses over your eyes, they’re a bit big on you, but look nice nonetheless. “Relationships are… not for me.” He clicks his tongue, “I already told you about my last relationship, and it was…” 

“Bad?” You push your hair from your face, making sure it looks good with the new added accessory. “But, wasn’t that back in highschool? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to give relationships a go since it’s your last year in college?” You laugh to yourself, “Unless you’re planning to die alone.” 

Sukuna pinches your nose, “No, dumbass.” He naturally looks at the way you’re holding him, close and comfortable. “I just—I don’t think I was ready for a relationship. I had shit going on, the things I told you.” 

“That’s oddly mature of you, ‘Kuna.” You let your head rest on his arm, “So, in other words, you were the problem?” 

“I’m never the fuckin’ problem.” Sukuna laughs to himself, more cockily than anything. “But, enough about me. Tell me about you, virgin. Any middle school relationships?” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “You keep calling me a virgin, and I will literally leave.” 

“Sure.” 

You look up, trying to think. “I mean, I had a crazy ex, but it didn’t last that long.” 

Sukuna snickers to himself, ”I think you were the crazy one.” 

“Oh yeah, I definitely was.” You shrug, “But, that’s a given.” You almost fall when Sukuna abruptly tugs you into a store, your heels clicking frantically behind him. “Sukuna! I’m in heels, you can’t pull me around like that.” You whine, but it doesn’t last when you look around the store. Observing the products for sale. Clothing, shoes, jewelry, and bags. 

You blink a few times, trying to identify the clothing store by the layout, but find yourself coming out flat. Although, Sukuna seems to be more familiar with the layout, keeping you close to him as he leads you to the back of the store without a word. You notice the glass case, velvet decorators holding shining jewelry.  

You push the sunglasses up to the crow of your head, “Wait, you weren’t joking about the—“ 

“Of course not.” Sukuna stops, pushing you in front of him, “I hate that you’re wearing somethin’ another man gave you.” 

“That ‘other man’ is your brother, Sukuna.” Your eyes are trained on various necklaces, rings, and earrings, sparkling like diamonds–they are diamonds–in the light. “You shouldn’t think that way about your brother.” You lightly scold, but you don’t really mean it. 

“Pick something.” Sukuna doesn’t bother to respond, “Anything you like, I’ll get it for you.” 

You blink a few times, you don’t believe him. “You’re joking.” 

“Do you want me to be?” Sukuna’s on his phone, doing god knows what. “Anything. And make sure you hurry up, before I change my mind.” 

A lady dressed in a pencil skirt, and a white collared shirt makes her way to you, smiling kindly. “Is there anything you have in mind? Or, are we just browsing?” Her hair is pulled in a tight low bun, her bright blue eyes decorated with some cat-like glasses. 

“She’s looking for somethin’ nice.” Sukuna says, phone pressed to his ear. “Anything you think would suit her?” 

This feels so overwhelming, Sukuna’s buying you something, he’s actually going to buy you something. Is this why Yuuji was pointing out the necklace, did he know this was going to happen? “Uh…” You thickly swallow, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Uh—“ 

The lady nods her head, almost ignoring you. “Come here, child. I think I have something that will match your skin perfectly.” She starts walking to the right of the display, leading you to more bubbling jewelry. “Do the two of you have a price range by chance?”

You immediately open your mouth, wanting to say something along the lines of ‘anything cheap,’ but Sukuna places his hands over your ears, his phone snuggling held between his ear and shoulder. Sukuna says something to the lady, but it’s muffled and quick, and it’s returned with an enthusiastic head nod. He lets go of you, he bends down, his mouth near your ear as he whispers, “Pick out anything you like.” He takes a step back, patting your head, and speaking to the person on the phone.

You hesitate, but move close to the display, eyeing the array of colorful diamonds. You glance over your shoulder, eyeing Sukuna, before looking at the lady again. You lean in close, whispering, “What did he say?“

The woman glances at Sukuna, before reaching down and pulling out a rack of necklaces, along with matching earrings. “Which one do you like?” She grabs one of the necklaces, it’s simple, a silver chain, but the diamond is stunning. Wrapped in silver lining, and lined with smaller diamonds. “We also have some matching earrings, if you want to take a look at them.” 

You laugh nervously, toying with the ends of your frilly dress. ”Oh, but that seems like a lot of money.” You glance at the matching earrings, “But, they are pretty. Maybe not for me, though…” 

“Oh, sweetie, everything that’s covered in diamonds is made for women. The more the better.” She waves off with a playful smile, “I’m sure your fiance wouldn’t mind showering you in them, either.” 

You feel your eyes widen, taking a small step back, “Oh, we’re not–” 

“Of course not.” Sukuna pinches a strand of your hair, twisting the strand around his finger. “Anything for the wife, right?” The woman nods enthusiastically again. 

You want to pass Sukuna an uncertain glance, but are unable to find the opportunity when the woman reveals a beautiful bracelet. One that calls to you far more than it should. “That one is… nice.” 

You love it. 

The woman nods, “That’s wonderful, do you want to see the matching set that comes with it?” She reaches down in the display again, revealing the matching jewelry. She holds it close to your skin, the necklace gleaming with little to no light. “I think it fits with you perfectly, maybe a nice set of nails to match?” She turns to Sukuna for his opinion. 

You turn to look at him too, not for his opinion, but to gauge why she was asking for his opinion when you’re going to be the one wearing it. But, you're quickly shocked to see he’s already looking at you, “Well? What do you think?” 

Your lips part, blinking your long lashes at him in a bit of shock. “I…” You look back at the jewelry near your skin. It’s lovely, it really is, but do you deserve to have it? How expensive is it? You look at Sukuna again, softly saying, “I really like it.” 

Sukuna nods, placing his hand on your head. “We’ll take the set.” 

The lady nods, collecting the things and placing them on a velvet tray. You feel bad, velvet alone means expensive. “Can I get a name?” 

Your name leaves Sukuna lips with ease, and you can’t help but adore the way it sounds on his tongue. It feels a bit intimate, despite it being something as simple as your name, but hearing him say it… feels good. 

You really like it. 

You watch as she moves to the register, whispering, “Are you sure?”

Sukuna tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes to the side. “Yeah? What? Do you not think I can afford it?” He leans down, getting close in your face to whisper, “Do you really think I’m that poor?”

You huff, a small laugh leaving your lips. “Oh yeah, definitely.” You cross your arms over your chest sassily, “I’m scared my mere existence is too expensive to you.” You wave off. 

Sukuna feels his eye twitch. “Oh really?” 

You smile, nodding your head innocently, “Mhm.” You hum. 

“Pick out somethin’ else.” Sukuna says, pushing you towards the clothing rack. “Anything.”

You almost trip over your footing again, the extra dangles of jewels connected to your heels jangling. “Stop with the pushing!” You whine, grabbing onto his wrist to stable yourself. 

“If you fall, I’m going to laugh.” Sukuna mumbles behind you.

“Ah, yes, I’m so lucky to have you.” You whisper, but you turn your attention to the clothing racks. Dresses, and other articles of clothing decorating the hangers and shelves. 

A dress catches your attention, and you instantly reach for the price tag, trying to check the price. Sukuna is quick to grab your wrist, stopping you from looking at the price. He grabs the dress, holding it to your body. Seeing if it would fit you. 

“Don’t look at the price.” He tells you nonchalantly,  placing the dress on his forearm. He turns on his heel, walking towards the changing rooms, “Lets go try this on.” 

You hesitate to follow, glancing at the other dresses and being tempted to check the price, but Sukuna’s words repeat in your head. It’s a choice you make, not at all influenced by Sukuna’s orders, but you decide not to check the price. 

“Hurry your slow ass up.” 

“I’m going slower just because you said that.” 

— 

The dressing room is small, but one of the nicest you’ve ever been in. The mirror is framed by bright LED lights, and the bench is covered in soft leather. The rack holds your empty hanger, the dress sticking to your body. 

You glance at yourself in the mirror, struggling to zip up the dress up your back. A small, but frustrated, sigh leaving your glossy lips. “I hate zippers.” You let your hands drop down to your sides, sitting on the seat. 

Sukuna knocks on the door, “You finished in there?” He places his forehead on the door, “You’re taking to fuckin’ long. Hurry your–” 

You open the door abruptly, making Sukuna’s head meet straight with yours. You flinch, but immediately add, “I can’t zip it up.” You take a few steps back, a silent invitation for Sukuna to enter. “Can you help me?” 

Sukuna scoffs, but you can see him trying to hide a smile. “Looks like you can’t do anything without me.” He steps inside, the door closing and locking automatically behind him. “What a lost baby you are.” He coos. 

You roll your eyes, ignoring how your stomach flutters with his condescending tone. You must be going crazy, liking the way he talks to you? Yeah, you must be going crazy. “Just help me out, ‘Kuna.” You turn your back to him. 

“Yeah.” Sukuna places his hand on your lower back, pinching the zipper to your dress. He thinks it’s cute, a small heart pendant that matches your skin perfectly. “This looks nice on you.” His mouth is near your ear, and you feel the dress tighten around your chest. 

“You haven’t even looked at it.” You mumble back, placing a hand over your chest, “And, it’s like really tight on my chest.” You giggle, “I don’t think it fits.” 

Sukuna looks at you over your shoulder, glancing at your reflection. “Looks good.” He murmurs, eyes drinking up how wonderful you look in your dress. “I like when things are off the shoulder… easy access.” He runs his lips over your shoulder, pressing kisses against your skin. 

You shake your head, naturally leaning into Sukuna. “Can you…” You thickly swallow, a slow exhale leaving your lips, “Like not, for one second.” You feel your lashes flutter, “We’re in–” 

“Public.” Sukuna finishes for you, “But, isn’t that what makes it fun? Knowing that we can get caught?” He lets his hands travel down your body, “Five minutes.” He presses another kiss into your shoulder, “Give me five minutes.” His tone is… desperate, almost begging in a way. 

It makes your mind a bit hazy, turning to look at him. “One minute.” Your hands are on his shoulders, stabilizing yourself. 

Sukuna kisses your forehead, smiling as he mumbles, “Three minutes.” 

You narrow your eyes, tilting your head back and gritting out, “Thirty seconds.”

Sukuna obnoxiously sighs, slouching into himself, “Fine, one minute.” You giggle, lifting yourself on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips to his. Sukuna grabs your chin, pulling on your bottom lips to slide his tongue in your mouth, adoring the way your hands tighten around his shoulder. 

You pull back, looking past his body. Sukuna naturally leans close again to kiss you, but you press your lips together. “I feel like we’re being loud.” You whisper, your face feeling hot. “Can you like… not–” 

“Kiss you that loud?” Sukuna snorts, but that laugh is cut short when your palm presses over his mouth. 

“Shh!” You shake your head, a small but embarrassed smile on your lips. “People are going to hear us.” You whisper, moving your hand from his mouth to the collar of his shirt. “Mostly you. I swear…” 

“I’d fuck you here if you’d let me.” Sukuna says, his eyes half-lidded. “I’d do so much shit for you if you’d let me.” He kisses you again, and with his desire filled words, along with his skilled hands, you give in. Not bothered that someone can hear the sloppy kiss ensuing between the two of you. 

Sukuna’s hands moving to your ass, then to the back of the dress. Unzipping it from your body and pulling it down your frame, the fabric pooling at your feet. You feel yourself gasp, eyes widening with realization. Holy shit, wait, you’re wearing–

Sukuna breaks away from you, and you’re tempted to press your hand over his eyes, but you keep them firmly on his shoulder. Diverting your eyes as he bluntly eyes your body, the way your lacy underwear hugs your hips, and your bra digs into your soft tits. 

“Fuck.” Sukuna instantly kisses you again, grabbing your waist and pulling you alongside him, plopping you on top of his lap as he sits on the seat. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.” He mumbles against your lips. 

You giggle, moving your hands to pull at the straps of your bra. “Mhm? You like it?” You run your tongue over his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth and softly sucking on it.

“Fuck yeah.” Sukuna pushing his hips into your pussy, “Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel what you do to me?” He drops his head, kissing your neck and softly sucking on your skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make your body shiver. “Can I see ‘em?” He’s begging, his tone a bit more high pitched, and the tips of his ears red. 

His tone makes you dizzy, and you feel drunk of his words. You nod your head, your glossy bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and tug down the cups of your bra. Exposing your skin to Sukuna, and you can feel his dick twitch beneath you. 

You whimper. 

“Fuck yeah.” He groans, his hips twitching. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long.” He wraps his lips around your nipple, his tongue circling around your sensitive nerves. 

You slap your hand over your mouth, arching your back into Sukuna. He smirks, “What? You like it when I do this?” He whisper, his voice raspy and deep, “You like when you get me hard in public, wanting to fuck you so everyone in this fuckin’ store can hear how good I make you feel?” 

“Why can’t you ever shut up.” You mumble back, rolling your hips into his dick. Straining uncomfortable against his Sukunas, a very visible dick print in his pants. “I swear, you always–” 

“You wet?” He mumbles, running a long stipe from the bottom of your tit, to the top of your collar bone. “Your pussy a droolin’ mess right now, huh? Wet, and waiting to be stuffed with my fat cock?” 

You feel your hips twitch, and you don’t mean to, you really don’t, but you nod. You look at him with your bright shiny eyes, hand clutching his chest, while you lean over for a kiss, nodding your head without a true thought other than Sukuna. “Please, I want you so bad, ‘Kuna.” 

You can feel his cock twitching between your lips, thick and hard. You subtly suck on your bottom lip, it’s coated with Sukuna’s and your saliva. You thickly swallow, your pupils blown. You really just want him inside of you, you want to feel the head of his cock deep inside your throat, your tongue sliding around his girth. Or, his cock spliting you open and he rams his cock inside your pussy. 

Your bottom lip wiggles, “Can I–can I…” You whimper, I want to suck his dick. 

Sukuna feels his jaw tick, but before he can so much as skim his finger over your sensitive clit, someone knocks at the door. “Is everything fitting alright in there?” An associate. 

Yet, Sukuna isn’t even given the chance to respond when you push your lips against him, ensuing a messy kiss between the two of you. His eyes practically rolling with how desperate and aggressive you’re being from a few words. 

Fuck, you’re so… perfect. 

You finally pull away, a catty smirk on your lips as you whisper against his lips, “I don’t like the dress.” You pick up your original dress, slipping it over your body. Sukuna’s still looking at you, “And, I’m hungry, can we wrap this up?” 

Sukuna feels his eyes twitch–well, that’s not the only thing twitching–and scoffs at you. So, now you’re toying with him. Right. Sukuna takes a moment to regroup, before responding, “Yeah, we didn’t like the dress.” 

There’s still a smug smile on your lips as you giggle at his almost dumbfounded expression, you move it close, swiping your thumb over his bottom lip. “You have a little something here.” 

Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek, watching you turn away from him and slipping his hard erection into the waistband of his boxers. If you want to play that game, keep doing it. Fine, he’ll play along to this little game you’re seeming to pull. 

Sukuna has never considered himself a masochist, but being around you is starting to feel like torture. A small ich in the back of his head which he can never scratch unless you're touching him, or begging him to touch you. 

Maybe, just maybe, he likes you a bit more than he originally thought. Which… is saying something. 

— 

You reply to a text Nobara had sent you a while ago, ignoring the obvious way Sukuna seems… pent up, as he stands right next to you. You place your head on his shoulder, leaning your weight on him while your fingers tap diligently at your screen.

“Happy with yourself.” Sukuna mumbles underneath his breath. 

“Mhm.” You turn off your phone, tucking it into his front pocket. “Very proud, actually.” You play with his fingers, toying with the gold ring decorating his ring finger. “You have really nice hands, by the way..” You slightly add. 

Sukuna huffs, but it sounds more like a laugh rather than an annoyed sigh. He shakes his head as he turns away, “You’re so weird.” 

“It’s me flirting with you.”

Sukuna scratching the back of his neck while mumbling, “No wonder you’re single.” 

You slap his arm, “Heard that.” 

“Didn’t say anything.” 

“Mhm, sure.” You roll your eyes, following at Sukuna’s side as he moves to the cashier. And as much as you don’t want to, you’re looking at the monitor displaying the price of everything that is to be scanned. 

Sukuna notices. In fact, he knew you would be aware and looking at the price. 

The woman tilts her head with a smile, “Can I get a name?” Sukuna says your name again, which makes the woman dip her head under the counter, looking for your items. “Also, will you be using cash or credit with this purchase?”

“Credit.” Sukuna currently responds, but you can see him patting his pockets from the corner of your eye, his hand landing on your phone, and pulling it out. He curses underneath his breath, “Shit, I think I left my phone in the dressing room.” He raises his eyes to your face, placing a hand on your head, “Can you go grab it for me?” 

You pout, but nod your head nonetheless. 

Sukuna nods in approval, “That’s my girl.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll be waiting for you.” You hesitate to move, looking at the register, then back to the area of the dressing rooms. He taps your arm reassuringly, “C’mon, go grab it for me.” 

You feel your heart flutter, but don’t let him see it, muttering a small, “Fine.” Before making your way to the dressing room. You enter the room the two of you were in not even a few minutes ago, glancing over the area and looking for his phone. 

You can’t see it, which makes you huff in frustration. You’re rushing a bit, trying to see how much money Sukuna is wasting on you. Hopefully, you can actually pay him back a bit, maybe take him to an expensive dinner. 

You move to the seat, glancing at the crack between the wall and the soft velvet. It isn’t there. 

You drop to your knees, tilting your head to the side to see if it fell down on the floor. It isn’t there. 

You look at the seat again, resting on your knees. It isn’t there. 

You look around the room, seeing if it fell… anywhere else, but… it isn’t there. It isn’t here.

Did someone steal it? You furrow your eyebrows. Maybe, that’s how I can pay him back, by buying him a new phone. You probably need to get a job, again. 

You leave the room, but not before passing it a final glance, hoping his phone would magically appear in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, it doesn't, so you’re forced to leave empty handed. 

You’re thinking of ways to tell Sukuna he may need to return the things he just bought you in favor of a new phone, but your thoughts come to a halt. In fact, your whole body comes to a halt. 

Your heart drops into the hole that opened up below you. 

Just like Sukuna said, he’s waiting for you at the entrance. A small bag in his hands, stuffed with tissue paper, and his hand tucked into his pocket. But, standing next to him, is a blonde woman. 

She’s saying something to him, but you can’t hear it. It could be the distance between the three of you, or the soft music the store is playing. It could be both, but you shake it off, pushing yourself forward. 

She doesn’t scare you. Sukuna doesn’t even like her, he likes you, so you shouldn’t be worried or intimated. Sukuna starts saying something back to her, and much to your dismay, you only pick up on the last thing he tells her.

“–and you’re ugly, so.” Sukuna shrugs. 

That makes you abruptly laugh, pulling the attention of both of them to you. You blink a few times in embarrassment, before waving a kind hello at her. “Hey, I remember you.” You giggle sweetly, “You’re the crazy… ‘ex,’ right?” You add air quotes. 

Her eyes twitch, a promite scowl on her lips. “Oh, this tacky piece of–”

“Here.” Sukuna hands you the bag, “Don’t worry about her, she wouldn’t leave me alone.” You swear you can hear him mutter, ‘Annoyin’ ass bitch.’ Under his breath, before asking, “You ready to go eat?” 

You smile, nodding your head, not passing the girl a second glance. “Yeah, I’ve been starving.” You loop your arms around his, resting your head on him. “Good to know. I can’t believe she’s trying to get back with you.” You flash her a smile when he pulls you away, adding a sweet, “Such a pathetic attempt to use, too.” 

She’s dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond, but she doesn’t even get the chance to respond because the two of you are long gone. As much as Sukuna doesn’t want to talk about what happened, he knows you want to. 

You tilt your head at him, slightly pulling away from him in favor of curling your fingers around his hand. “What did she want?” 

“She wanted to hook up.” 

“Oh.” You look away from him, “Well, what did you say?” 

“Nothing that you wouldn’t be aware of.” He squeezes your hand, ignoring your confused look. “C’mon, use that pretty head. I’m sure you can figure out what that means.” 

You pout, not bothering to dwindle on it for too long. “I thought you’re the type to like to make me jealous? Why didn’t you do that this time?” 

Sukuna pinches your cheek, a bit hard. “You weren’t around.” 

You close one of your eyes, pulling away from his touch. “What does that mean?” You use your free hand to rub the cheek he pinched, muttering a small, “Ow.” 

“If you aren’t around to be jealous, then there isn’t any point to entertaining any other girl.” He rolls his eyes, scowling to himself. “Besides, she’s annoyin’ as hell.” Sukuna can feel your gaze on him, it’s cute, you look like you’re a bit flattered. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, grabbing his sunglasses from the top of your head and flipping them down over your eyes. It’s a bit of a separation. Separating him from what? He doesn’t know what exactly. “Don’t let it get to your head.” 

You laugh to yourself, “Too late. Oh!” You tug on his hand, “I couldn’t find your phone, so… I think we may need to return what you bought me to get you a new one.” 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, a bit confused, before closing his eyes and subtly laughing to himself. “No, I don’t need to do that.” He looks straight again, “I–uh, It ended up being in my pocket the whole time, so don’t worry.” 

“Oh.” You feel your eyes furrow, before opening your mouth again. 

“We have reservations at six thirty, which means we still have little over an hour to burn.” Sukuna doesn’t even let you respond, “Anything you have in mind?” 

“Not really.” You look around the mall, trying to think of something to take up time. Something that would take time, and isn’t necessary to spend money on. You come to a quick realization that nothing is possible without having to put down at least some form of payment. 

Bummer. Maybe, you can pay for a karaoke room, or some credits at an arcade… 

“Actually, I have an idea.” 

You take a few steps away from Sukuna in caution, much like a cat backing away from a barking dog. “I don’t think I’m excited.” 

Sukuna laughs, stuffing his hands into his pocket, “You shouldn’t be.” 

—

Over an hour later, and a fresh set of french tip nails, you’re sitting across Sukuna in another fancy restaurant. The booth you’re sitting at is on the second story, and has an amazing view of the people walking outside below. You can see some clouds crowding over the sky, and can’t help but wonder if it’s going to rain. 

You turn back to Sukuna, looking at your nails again. “I think I need to get my nails done more often.” You mumble, clearly admiring them with the bracelet and ring Sukuna bought you not too long ago. 

You didn’t even know the set came with a ring, but you’re not complaining. It’s gorgeous. Easily one of the most valuable things you now own. 

“D’you like it?” Sukuna asks nonchalantly, eyes also trained on your hands decorated with the fresh jewelry. 

“Mhm.” You lower your hand, grabbing your drink. “It’s nice, Sukuna, I really like it.” You take a sip, and add a quick, “Thank you.” Almost embarrassed to say it aloud. Sukuna leans back his chair, hands resting in his lap. He doesn’t respond, nor does he give any indication to hearing what you just said. That makes you even more embarrassed, “Hey, asshole, I said thank you.” You huff, “Can you say something back?... Please?” 

Sukuna tries to hide it, but you can see him fighting the start of a smile, “I heard you.” He grabs his drink, an alcoholic beverage of his choice, “I know you’re thankful, don’t need to tell me.” You pout, which makes him laugh, “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart, I know you can’t handle putting your ego aside.” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk.” You bite back, “Last time I checked, our biggest argument was over you refusing to–” 

“Don’t remind me.” Sukuna says, “Besides, I’m trying to mak–” He pauses, cutting himself off, before taking another sip of his drink.

You bite the side of your cheek, smiling to yourself. “Okay.” You play with your shoes, your feet toying with your heels. “Do you like my nails?” You flip them to him, it’s your third time asking this question, but you like his response. 

“I already told you what I think about your nails.” 

You flaunt your fingers, “I want to hear it again.” 

“Yes. They’re nice.” Sukuna grabs your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of your palm. Your stomach flutters from it, it feels so… loving. A single act done between two lovers, and a part of you craves more of it. “I can get them for you more often, if you like them.” 

“It’s weird seeing you like this.” You softly say, pulling your hand back and resting it in your lap. “I feel like you’re going to poison my food, or something.” 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, jutting a thumb in a normal direction. “Yeah, let me just sneak into the kitchen.” 

You nod, an eager smile growing on your lips. “Let me come with you, maybe we can recreate the Lady Gaga music video from Telephone.” You point an accusing finger at Sukuna, “Wait, only if you let me be beyonce–no, I want to be Lady Gaga.” You look to the side, thinking again, “No, I’m a liar, Beyonce.” 

Sukuna snorts, resting his head on the palm of his hand. “You’re so weird.” He mumbles, before quickly correcting it to, “You’re so different.” 

You feel your expression fall, eyes narrowed at him. “Wow. Thanks.” 

“I’m not insulting you.” He takes his drink in his hand, swirling the liquid in the cup. “Just… stating an observation.” His full attention is on you, and it feels a bit overwhelming. 

You laugh, feeling a bit tense, and joking, “Is that why you like me?” 

“I don’t…” Sukuna pauses, diverting his eyes from you, before looking away, “Nevermind.” He mumbles into his palm, “I’m just saying it’s… I don’t know, relaxing? Doesn't feel like you’re being fake.” 

“Why would I be?” You tilt your head to the side, “I mean, sure, I wasn’t your biggest fan when we first met, but I didn’t… completely hate you.” You lean forward, supporting your head with the back of your hand underneath your chin. “It was like, seventy-six percent.” You’re smiling. 

Sukuna laughs a little bit, “I didn’t completely hate you either.” He pretends to think, “It was… ninety seven percent.” 

“I’m changing my answer. It was ninety-nine percent.” You shake your head, “But, uhm, yeah. I don’t know, you were annoying, but I always sort of… liked you, in a weird way.”

Sukuna gives you a boyish look, “Yeah?” 

You look at him, a soft expression on your face. Content. “Yeah.” You play with your bracelet, running the tip of your fingers over the gems. “Is this your way of calling me special?” 

“Not at all.” Sukuna watches as your eyebrows furrow, you’re always so expressive. “I’m insulting you, actually.” 

“Such a lover boy.” You sarcastically add, but your attention is drawn away from him when your phone vibrates. You’re tempted to look at it, but you know it’s rude to–

“The blonde girl texted me.” Sukuna softly says, a very clear bothered expression on his face. “I can’t believe she got another number.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, glaring at him. “You know, it’s considered rude when you’re on your phone during a date, ‘Kuna.” You’re tempted to snatch the phone away from him. You don’t know if it’s because you’re jealous, or upset he’s on his phone during your dat…

You feel the color from your face drain. Wait. You didn’t say that. You didn’t just say that to Sukuna’s face. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, searching for Sukuna’s expression. But, there’s nothing, not any form of emotion or indication to disagreement–or agreement–to what you just said. 

“Yeah, but I’m not actually on it.” Sukuna says, “I’m just checking a notification.” 

Is he… agreeing with you? Does this mean that this really is a date? Telling Nobara and Yuuj is one thing. But, having Sukuna blatantly agree with you, is a completely different thing. 

You cross one foot over the other, trying to look at his screen, but he puts his phone face down on the table. “What did she say?” 

Sukuna slides his phone to you, “Check.” 

You nod, grabbing the phone and pulling it into your lap. “You know, I thought you would be more secretive with your phone.” You flip it right side up, clicking the unopened text message, quickly putting in Sukuna’s password which you happened to remember. 

“Nah. I don’t really have anything on my phone I would want to hide.” Sukuna leans his head back, “Well, nothing from you at least. Maybe from Uraume or Yuu, though.” 

“I thought Uraume knew everything about you.” You open the message, cringing at the abrasive text about you. 

“They do.” Sukuna nods to himself, “They know how I like my food, and what happened when I was younger, but that’s… all.” 

“Hm.” You turn off the phone again, “Apparently I’m a… ‘selfish bitch,’ who… ‘can’t keep my hands off what doesn’t belong to me.’” You scoff, “Are you cheating on me, ‘Kuna? Or, did I really snatch you away from this girl?” 

Sukuna shakes his head, “Gross. Don’t even fuckin’ joke about that.” He sighs, rubbing his temples. “I can’t believe I let her over.” 

You furrow your eyebrows in thought, wait a minute… “Wait, what’s her name?” You laugh to yourself, feeling almost a tiny bit bad. “I just realized, this whole time I’ve known her, I don’t even know her name.” 

“She knows your name.” Sukuna says without a thought, “She wouldn’t stop talking about you when she was over for a project.” You hear him mumble, “It’s actually sad how obsessed she is with you.” 

“Maybe, I should go date her then.” You joke, taking a sip of your drink. “It honestly seems that she likes me more than you do.” 

“You think so?” 

“You just said she’s obsessed with me.” You mutter, twirling your straw. “I need the person who likes me, to be absolutely obsessed with me, ‘Kuna. They shouldn’t be able to function without me.” 

Sukuna gives you a half smile, “Yeah?” 

“If you like me, why aren’t you obsessed with me?” You tear your gaze away from Sukuna when your waiter comes to your side with your food, sliding a plate of your favorite steak. 

“Maybe, I am.” 

You snap your head up, “Wait, what did you say?” 

Sukuna shakes his head, passing you a confused look. “Nothing.” He silently thanks the waiter with a head nod, “What did you say?” 

You roll your eyes, “I hate–” Sukuna raises his eyebrows. “Ugh, nevermind.” You wave it off, “But, seriously, what’s her name?” You pick up your fork and knife, “I just realized I’ve been beefing with a girl I don’t even know the name of.” 

Sukuna parts his lips, but then looks to the side, scratching his chin in thought. “Actually…” He hides a smile, cutting a piece of steak and placing it in his mouth. “I don’t… know.” 

“You slept with someone you don’t even know the name of?” You gawk, cutting into your meat in a similar manner. “Jesus, Sukuna, I didn’t think of you like that.” You tease. 

“I’m sure I did when… ugh…” He shakes his head in disgust, “I can’t remember it.” He shrugs, “Who cares. She’s the past.” 

You hum thoughtfully, “What’s my name?” 

Sukuna doesn't even look at you when your name leaves his mouth, quick and without a second thought. In fact, it comes so naturally to him, he doesn’t even stop from cutting into his food. “Why?” 

Knowing that he knows your name, and can’t even remember the other girl… That makes you feel good. There’s a subtle smile growing on your lips, and Sukuna notices it. 

You take a fry from his plate, “Tell me more about you, ‘Kuna.” You scoot closer to him, 

“You know more about me then I know about you.” He leans back, “Why don’t you tell me somethin’ about you instead.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “I thought I talked too much?” 

Sukuna laughs, and it’s genuine. “You do.” 

“Hypocrite.” You point at him with your fork, “You’re setting me up for failure here.” 

“I don’t mind you talking.” Sukuna says, “You just… never stop talking.” 

“You’re making me insecure.” You look at your food, “You’re supposed to not make me insecure.” 

Sukuna tilts his head, “I thought I was obsessed with you?” 

“…You are.” Your voice waivers. 

“Then, don’t get in your head.” Sukuna shrugs. 

You don’t say anything for a moment, before slowly saying, “I still think you’re setting me up for failure.” You shake your head, “No, delusion is the better word here.” And you’re not even talking to Nobara, someone who agrees with you no matter how crazy. 

“You are delusional.” 

I’m very delusional, but you don’t tell Sukuna that. “You know, for agreeing with me all the time, you’re never right.” You sigh, pushing your hair out of your face. “But, what do you want to know about me?” 

“Why’d you put up with me for so long?” Sukuna says underneath his breath, but quickly adds, “Why did you decide to become president of the ASL club? You’re not–completely–deaf.”

“Not everyone who learns ASL is deaf, ‘Kuna. I’m sure you saying that has to be some sort of… I don’t know, hate crime or something.” You laugh to yourself, ignoring Sukuna’s eye roll, before continuing, “Uh, but, I started learning about it because of my mom.” You push a vegetable on your plate with your fork. 

Sukuna nods his head, “You’re also learning about Kinesiology because of your family, right? Tryin’ to become a physical therapist.” 

You almost forget why, and how Sukuna knows that, but your mind travels to the dinner you shared with his grandpa. “Yes.” You play with your bracelet, “I mean, what I told you grandpa was true, somewhat.” 

“Somewhat?” 

“I didn’t tell him… everything.” You pop the base of your heel off your foot, “Sorry…” 

Sukuna shrugs, “Don’t apologize, that shit gets annoying. Not everything is somethin’ you need to apologize for.” He rolls his eyes, “In fact, my old man should be apologizing, tryin’ to get up in your personal life. So annoying.” 

You shake your head, “Well, uh… I want to become a physical therapist because of my mom.” The restaurant feels silent, the only thing you can hear is your mom’s voice in the back of your head. “I've wanted to become one since middle school.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything for a minute, which you appreciate. He’s giving you time to regroup. “You don’t like talking about your family.” Sukuna’s full attention is on you, “Did something happen between you?” 

“No.” You bit the corner of your lip, eyes fluttering slightly. “I… love my family, more than anything.” You don’t know how you feel about Sukuna asking you so many questions, but… knowing that he wants to get to you, makes you feel a pocket-size amount of happiness. 

Sukuna grabs the vegetable from your plate, and pops it into his mouth. “Why didn’t you move in with them?” 

You’re sure the question isn’t meant to be mean, so you don’t let it get to you. “They live in a different state. So, it would be a bit impossible.” You laugh, “I actually visited them the week before I moved in with you.” 

Sukuna nods, “Yeah? How’d that go?” 

“I–” You squeeze into yourself, “Did I ever tell you why I started learning ASL?” 

“I’m assuming it's also the same reason you’re becoming a physical therapist.” 

You laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah. My… uh, my mom has been struggling…” You take a deep breath, “I feel bad, I feel like telling you this is going to ruin the mood.” 

“Probably.”

“You’re not helping!” You turn away, but fight off a smile. You sigh, before looking at your food, “Well, uh, I’ve wanted to become one since middle school, since that’s when my mother first started… uhm, experiencing seizures.” 

Sukuna seems taken aback by this, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. “Really?” He takes a sip of his drink, “Do you know the reason?” His tone is… different. It’s more distinguishable than it’s ever been before. No–that’s a lie. It sounds exactly how he did when telling you about his past. He sounds…vulnerable. 

“Uh, we don’t know exactly, but we think it may be some form of epilepsy.” You smile to yourself, and it’s a way to comfort the twisting feeling in your stomach. “I was–I was home the first time it happened, back in middle school.” You reach over and steal another fry from his plate. “I didn’t know what to do when it happened.” 

“I’m sure no one would at your age.” He places another fry on your plate, “Sounds terrifying.” 

You nod your head meekly, “Yeah, it was.” You thickly swallow, “But, uhm… I’m fine–it’s fine now.” You tap your foot on the ground, “Well, I mean, she still deals with seizures, but it’s way less frequent.” You awkwardly laugh to yourself, “I—they’re still scary, and rare, but I know how to handle them as an adult.” Even if you need to come home for a short amount of time to make sure, without a questionable doubt, your mom is indeed okay, and not going to leave you forever. 

“I couldn’t imagine.” Sukuna says, his features soft. 

“Yeah, uhm, but…” You push your hair out of your face, shaking your head slightly. “My dad was home that day, thank god, and ended up taking her to the hospital. I couldn’t come, but waiting in the house for them to come back… honestly I wish he would’ve just taken me with him.” You half smile, “It was horrible.” 

You can remember the thoughts rushing through your head like the event happened yesterday. How much you blame yourself, and how mad you were for not doing anything, even though there was nothing you could do. You thought that your mother would abandon you for not helping, or disown you for standing a few feet away from her with tears streaming down your cheeks. Not only that, but you thought she was never going to come back from the hospital. You thought that was going to be the last time you saw her. 

You press your lips together, feeling them wiggle ever so slightly. 

“She came back.” There’s something somber in Sukuna’s tone, but you wouldn’t be able to pick it up with any form of expression on his face. Part of you wonders if it hurts Sukuna to hear you talk about your family, or anything related to closeness. 

“Yeah.” You nod softly, “She came back.” 

Sukuna lets out a breath. 

“But, she was different.” You move your hand to your face, cupping your jaw delicately. “She looked different. She wasn't my mom. Or, so I originally thought.” You thickly swallow, hand still rubbing your face. “I grew up with a mom who would quirk her face in the most interesting way to the littlest things. Her smile–god…” You smile to yourself, “Her smile could light up a room, Sukuna, I adored it more than anything.” 

“You’re like that.” Sukuna says without a thought, “It’s really funny. You’re very expressive.” He rests his head on the back of his hand, “I’m sure you took that from your mother.” 

You beam, “Thanks.” You push your meat around on your plate, “But, in my younger twelve year old mind, I thought she was a different person. She wasn’t… mom.” You gesture your hand to your face, “She couldn’t–she couldn’t move her face, and it seemed… heavy.” You narrow your eyes, “It weighed down.” 

Sukuna nods. 

“Turns out the seizure ended up paralyzing her face.” You place your weight on your side, “She couldn’t really move anymore–I mean, obviously, but… it was weird, you know? Seeing someone so expressive not be able to move their face?” 

Sukuna can imagine that. He experienced it with his brother, after their argument. He went from a bubbling boy, to someone who couldn't so much as crack a polite smile. “Yeah, I understand.” 

“Not only that, but she couldn’t talk anymore. I mean–she could, but it wasn’t the same. It was hard, and… muffled. It was painful.” You play with the ends of your hair, “So, my dad would always put aside some time to massage her temples, jaw, anything that was uncomfortable.” You nod to yourself, “And, like I said, she could talk, but she was… she wasn’t comfortable talking.” You’re mom only expressed her embarrassment to speak due to her paralysis when you were in highschool, and it broke your heart. 

It’s your mom. 

“So, she wanted to learn a different way to communicate with people. One that didn’t, you know…” You point at your lips, “Involve mouths. So, that was my introduction into ASL.” You look outside, watching people pass you by. “I mean, it’s fascinating, no? A universal way of communicating.” 

“You work with children that are deaf, too.” Sukuna says, trying to learn more information. 

“Oh, absolutely.” You beam, “I love children, and while I’m thankfully my mom isn’t deaf, many people are. So, if I already knew the language, why not honor it in some way of giving back to the community.” You look away, a bit sheepishly, “It sounds like I’m boasting, but I’m not… I’m just… incredibly thankful. I want to… pay my respects, I guess.” 

Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you, if anything, from a stranger's perspective, it would look as if he’s admiring you right now. “Why’s that?” 

“Well, like I said, my mom seemed different, but she wasn’t.” You move your hands to the seat, “She’s always been the same person, but she found a different way to be expressive. A different way to be herself.” You move your hands to hug yourself, a content expression on your face. “She found a different way to love me. Even if it was silent.” 

“You’re…” He looks to the side, “You’re a good person, you’re better than me.” He places his utensils down. You didn’t even notice he finished his food, shit, you should really hurry up and finish yours now. “It’s admirable. No wonder you and Yuuji get along so well.” 

“I love Yuuji.” You mutter with fondness, “But, yeah, that’s why I wanted to help teach people how to speak in a universal way. So, everyone can communicate and express themselves. No matter what their language, or situation is.” You laugh to yourself, making a mouth with your hand, “Sometimes, words are some of the hardest things to express, you know?” 

Sukuna sighs, nodding his head with exasperation, “Oh, I know.” He lightly kicks you under the table, it doesn’t hurt, but it’s clear he’s messing with you. “I mean, that’s why you were mad at me for a week. Just because you couldn’t say you had a thing for me.” 

“I didn’t—“ You huff, taking a final bite of your food, and pushing your plate away. “I think you’re going crazy, absolutely insane.” You shake your head, “But, yeah, that’s the “tragic” story behind my life. I’m not too mentally unstable.”

Sukuna nods, “I’m sure.” He looks to the side for a moment, “But, I’m… It’s good to know more about you now.” He doesn’t know how to phrase what he wants to say, but from the humble look on your face, he’s thankful you understand.  

You lean back, patting your stomach, “But, I’m full.” You mumble, melting into your seat. “I’m dying to take a nap, or walk around or something.” Your eyes widen with excitement, “Oh my god, what if we went to a trampoline park? I can do some amazing flips.” You boast.

“I’ll get the check.” Sukuna looks to the side, peering past the seat of your side of the booth. “Should I take some dessert to go? Maybe you’ll get hungry after all the jumping.” 

You immediately want to say yes, but you already don’t feel good with how much money he’s spending on you, so you say, “It’s okay, I’m already full.” You stretch dramatically, “I think I’ll be good to be honest, if anything I can just buy some snacks from a convenience store or something.” 

“If that’s what you want.” Sukuna dismisses, trying to ignore the voice barking in the back of his head who noticed you eyeing the cookie cake. 

You nod, also looking to the side to see if you could spot a server, and when you do, an idea pops into the back of your head. Not only that, but you also pop your heel off your right foot. “Oh.” You point behind Sukuna, “I see our waiter, want me to flag him over?” 

“No. It’s fine.” Sukuna turns over his shoulder, making clear eye contact with the male. You take this time to scoot closer to the table, lifting your foot. You can’t help but smile at the waiter when he comes over, batting your eyelashes innocently at him. 

Sukuna thinks it’s a bit odd, but doesn’t dwindle on it for too long. “Uh, we’re ready for…” He pauses for a second, before, “Actually, I was hoping if we could take the cookie cake to go?” 

A part of you now feels bad for what you’re about to do, but you’re already dedicated to the bit, and can’t back down now. Sorry Sukuna. 

The waiter nods, “Of course, I can add that to your bill here.” 

Sukuna nods, “Yeah, that would be–” He stills, almost stumbling over his words, but he catches himself. His eyes landed on you, before nodding his head, “Uh, yes, please do that.” You slide your foot further up his leg, resting it comfortably on his knee. 

The waiter nods again, this time a beaming smile on his lips. “Of course.” He points in the direction of the kitchen, “Do you also want me to get you a to-go box? Pack everything you didn’t finish?” 

Sukuna thickly swallows, feeling the pressure slowly trail up into his inner thigh. Before resting right over his crotch, applying an amount of pressure that accidentally makes his eye flutter. He shakes his head, “No, we’re–we finished everything, it’s okay.” He lowers his hand, gripping your ankle with a fair amount of pressure. “Get the check.” 

The waiter seems a bit put off by Sukuna’s abruptness, but doesn’t dwindle on it for too long. He merely nods again, “I’ll go get your cake, and the check.” Then, he’s off again, leaving you and Sukuna alone in the booth. 

Sukuna’s glaring at you, and you’re trying to hide a smile. You finally look at him, batting your eyelashes innocently, “What? Is somethin’ wrong?” You wiggle your foot in his grasp, his finger ever so slightly slipping underneath your sock. 

“I’ll kill you.” Sukuna says, “No, that’s a lie.” He lets his other hand trail over your calf, running the tips of his fingers over your shin. “If you want to play dirty, I’ll make it filthy.” He lets his fingers trail further down your leg, and goosebumps emerge from your skin. 

It feels good.

You thickly swallow, subconsciously scooting closer to the table in an attempt to get Sukuna to touch more of you. “Really?” You hum, fluttering your lashes at him, and Sukuna must be a saint from how much self control he has. “I think I play nice for you, ‘Kuna.” 

Sukuna feels his fingers twitch around you, along with something else not too far away from that. If it were up to him–if you would let him–he would fuck you right here on the table. “Yeah.” He whispers, leaning closer to the table and adding, “You want me to fuck you here? Make your little clit all red and sensitive? Nothin' but sweet thoughts about how good I’m making you feel?” 

You hate–love–what his words do to you. “Maybe…” You mumble, eyes almost rolling at that thought of Sukuna–

“Too bad.” Sukuna quickly pulls your foot, making you almost fall underneath the table. Your forearms resting on the seat, while your lower body completely under the wood, your foot and calf now perfectly resting in his lap. 

Which, consequently, is exactly when your waiter decided to come back with the cookie cake and the bill. You make eye contact with him, your body below the chest hidden by the table. You pass him an awkward smile, trying to pull yourself back up, but due to Sukuna’s firm gaps, you’re positively stuck. 

The waiter places the bill on the table, along with the cutely packaged cookie cake. “Uh, are you–uh, are you okay?” He tilts his head, “Should I call for–” 

“She’s fine.” Sukuna takes the bill with his free hand, “This is actually an intervention, and she’s just relapsing.” 

Your jaw drops, but you quickly rebut with, “Says the one who was shooting cocaine off my ass before we entered!” You turn to the waiter, “You should’ve seen it, it was a long line, too.”

Sukuna’s smiling, shaking his head while handing the server a hearty amount of money. “Keep the change.” He pushes your foot off him, sliding off the booth. 

You giggle, shimming your foot into your heel and quickly following after him, but not before adding, “You might want to wash those.” You pass the waiter a playful wink, before grabbing onto Sukuna’s arm. You can hear Sukuna laughing besides you, pushing the door open for the two of you. “I hope you tipped him well.” You shiver from the cold air biting at your skin. 

“I did, don’t worry.” Sukuna shakes his head with a final smile, “Besides, I’m pretty sure those were my coke dollars.” 

You feel your eyes widen, “You’re joking.”

Sukuna pinches your nose, “Of course I am.” 

You let out a breath of relief, “I was about to say.” You glance back at the restaurant, “We might’ve actually re-created the Telephone video by accident.” 

“Oh yeah, with a few coke dollars.” Sukuna sarcastically adds, “Sure, might as well start dancing right now.” He pulls out his phone, flashing the camera on you. 

“Telephone!” You make a phone with your hand, smiling into the camera. But, your smile falls, your eyes shrinking from the bright light. “I can’t believe you record with flash.” You lean in close to his camera, your eyes practically touching it, “You’re really weird.” 

“Says the one yelling ‘telephone,’ like an idiot.” Sukuna laughs at how the camera distorts your face from so close, “I’m sending this to Yuuji, he’s going to laugh at you.” He stops filming, and it takes you a moment to readjust to the lack of light. 

“He’s going to love it.” You giggle, “If anything, Yuuji is going to be rushing to come join me.” 

“He would always fiend over Just Dance.” Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes discreetly, “It was the one video game I could never beat him at.” 

“Wait, we have Just Dance at the house?” You narrow your eyes at Sukuna, poking his arm, “The fact you haven’t told me about this until now has to be a crime.”

“I'll get your own Just Dance.”

You giggle, resting your head on his bicep, “You get it Sukuna.” You look around, blinking innocently. “But, are we going home now? We’ve been out for some time now.” You can’t deny how your feet are starting to ache from your heels. It’s not too bad, but it’s noticeable. . 

“Still got one more thing to do.” 

You softly sigh, slouching into yourself, “Okay.” 

—

The sound of distant Christmas music is playing, accompanied by the decorations of the building with Christmas lights. “I didn’t know the city did this.” You feel breathless, glancing over the lights decorating the town. “Maybe I need to get out of the house more…”

“Every year when it’s December.” Sukuna leans on the wall behind you, letting you admire the center plaza of the city. The massive tree decorated with Christmas lights, and a massive golden star at the top. “People come together and put ornaments on the tree.”

You snap your head to look at Sukuna over your shoulder, “And we don’t have one?!” You narrow your eyes to him, “People are totally going to be judging us now that we don’t have something to put on the tree.” 

“You can buy something to put on the tree.” Sukuna points to a small building not too far from you, “There’s a small business that allows you to pick out little ornaments to put on the three.” 

“That’s so cute!” You grab his arm, “We should do that!” Before Sukuna can respond, you’re pulling his hand behind you to the small store. But, you stop, “Actually, you wait here, I’ll pick something out.” 

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, “But–” 

“Trust me.” You point at him sternly, “Don’t follow me.” You don’t need him paying for anything else. 

Sukuna shoves his hands into his pockets, your small shopping bag resting right at his wrist. “Bossy.” 

You’re quick to glance over the ornaments, trying to pick out something fast to not leave Sukuna waiting for too long. You can feel the dread of remembering what happened last time creeping up the back of your head.

“Hot men can’t be left alone too long.” You mumble to yourself, softly cupping an ornament with a pink cat. It makes you laugh. Unlike Yuuji, Sukuna wasn’t at all puppy like, cat like would be the better way to describe him. No, this cat ornament is the best way to describe Sukuna. 

You’re quick to pick it out, pay for it, and bring it back to Sukuna. Practically skipping to him with the ‘thank you for buying,’bag in your hands. “I got something!” 

Sukuna nods, “I would hope so.” He watches as you open the bag, pulling out the ornament. It almost makes him crack a smile, but he keeps his composure. “Should I ask why you bought that one?” 

“It’d make you a good boyfriend.” You lift it to his face. 

Sukuna turns his head away from you, “I’m not asking anymore.” 

“I’m so glad you asked!” You bring it to your face, pressing it right next to your cheek. “I got it because it’s literally you.” You look at it again, “Just way cuter.” Sukuna makes a face, but you're tugging him along again. “Put it on the tree, then we can take a picture of it together.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, just watches as you scurry to the tree and pick out a place–no, you don’t like that place, it’s too close to an ugly ornament, you actually want the space three ornaments away from it. You glance back at him, “You sure you want that place?” 

“Yes.” You point at it again, “Don’t ask too many questions, I’m indecisive.” 

Sukuna laughs, grabs the ornament from your hand and places it on the tree. “Is that good?” He moves to the side ever so slightly, letting you look at the placement. But, he mumbles underneath his breath, “It better be.” 

You nod, “Yes. It’s good.” You poke his chest, “Jerk.” 

“I’ll hang you on the tree as an ornament.” He grabs your waist, and picks you up. “Don’t move.” 

You shake your head, smiling with a giggle, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Wait, you going make me flash someone Sukuna, put me back down.” You wiggle your feet back and forth, your heels slowly peeling off your feet. 

“Good.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into a hug, “Wait, before you put me up, we have to take a picture.” Sukuna gently places you back on the ground, which you think is rather out of character for him. Still, you flinch from the contact, the pressure being put back on your sensitive feet. 

Okay, now you remember exactly why you’re a Converse girly. You’re starting to find the pain to be a bit unbearable. 

“Picture.” He mumbles, reaching for his back pocket. “I’d rather be caught dead than in a picture with you.” He shakes his phone, before placing it in your hands. 

“If you’re going to bitch about it, just give me my phone.” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “I swear, you make it so hard for me to want to be with you.” 

“It’s not hard.” Sukuna leans down, grabbing your wrist and lifting his phone with your hand. “You just make it hard.” 

You flip to the camera, angling it so the picture would get both of you. “Good thing we’re never going to be together.” You press your cheek against his, turning your head ever so slightly so your lips are touching his cheek. “Ever.” 

And, for some goddamn reason, Sukuna can’t help but crack a small smile at that. Just in time for you to snap the picture. 

“See, that wasn’t at all bad.” You lower the phone and click on the picture, “I literally look so cute too.” Which you can’t help but thank god about, usually you don’t even like the way you look in facetime calls. “And… I guess you look okay.” 

“Back on the tree.” He goes to pick you up again.

“Stop, you're going to make me drop the phone!” You try pulling away from him. Yet, you take a small mental note about how easy it is for Sukuna to move you around, lifting and pulling you with ease. 

“I’ll get a new one.” 

“But you can’t replace the photo!” You hug it close to your chest, “Wait, send it to me, I want to put it as your profile picture.” You reach into his pocket, pulling out your phone, but Sukuna–for some reason–seems to be a bit panicked by your hand. 

“Wait, don’t–” 

You giggle, “Wait, what? You scared I’m going to accidentally touch your–” You watch as something falls to the floor when you pull your phone out of his pocket. “Oh, you dropped something.” You bend down to pick it up, before blinking a few times, your hand inches away from the–the…

You feel your face explode in heat, your hand retracting back almost in fear. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my… You slowly tilt your head back, looking at Sukuna. “Uh, I… my bad.” 

Sukuna isn’t looking at you, his hands shoved in his pockets. He doesn’t even say anything, which you think is odd considering his quick tongue, and brass never censoring mouth. 

You feel a sharp puff of air leave your lips unexpectedly, before you cup your mouth, giggling into your palm. Before erupting into a laughing fit, absolutely dying in your kneeling position. 

“You’re such a child.” Sukuna remarks above you, but he’s still not looking at you. 

“You think I’m the child?” You pick up the small square, the gold packaging crinkling underneath your touch. “Sure, but here, you’re… Trojan magnum condom.”

Sukuna snatches it from your hand, sliding it back into his pocket. “Shut up.” 

You stand up, opening Sukuna’s phone to search for your contact. “I can’t wait to tell Nobara about this.” You whisper underneath your breath, “Also, what did you change my contact to?” 

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at you. “Your contact?” 

“Yeah.” You open up his messages, and feel your finger pause in its spot. Your eyes stop on the second most recent message, your contact. 

“You named yourself.” Sukuna adds obviously, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. “Don’t tell me you already forgot that shit.” 

You take a moment to respond, a bit stunned that Sukuna kept the name. “Y-Yeah, sure.” You pretend to roll your eyes, resting your weight on your right leg, leaning ever so slightly. “My memory isn’t that bad.” 

You’re trying not to think about how Sukuna kept the name, or how he already has a picture for you. The one he took to supposedly, ‘send to Yuuji,’ which coincidentally is something Yuuji has never brought up to you. 

Just send the picture, you mentally tell yourself. Opening your message history and glancing at the most recent one he sent you. ‘Going to your club, keep sleeping. Lazy.’ So, he did tell you about it, but in your crazed, worried, panic, you didn’t even bother to glance at your phone. 

“You done?” Sukuna asks, arms crossed over his chest. “Or you looking for something to annoy me about.” 

“You know me too well.” You hand Sukuna his phone back, wiggling your shoulders playfully. “I also sent an old picture of you dressing as Sailor Venus. A little gift for putting up with you for so long.”

“I hope you die.” Sukuna shoves the phone into his pocket. 

“Oh.” Your eyes trail behind him, glancing at a cute ornament. “Wait, that one is so cute. Let’s change the location of our ornament.” You take a few steps forward, “I kinda’ wish I got one like that now.” 

“Why?” Sukuna glances over his shoulder, “It’s not even that cute.” 

“What?! It totally is.” You place your hands behind your back, “A cute and simple pink heart, what’s there not to like about it?” You look to the side, “Maybe, I should go buy one for our own tree.” You think aloud. 

“We don’t even have a tree.” 

“We can get one.” 

“I’m not spending money on something that’s going to be up for less then a month.” 

“I’ll buy it!” 

“With what money?” 

“I just want the damn ornament!” 

Sukuna blinks a few times, before glancing at the tree, then back at you. A smirk splits his lips, and it makes you uneasy. He tilts his head to the side, leaning down close to your face. “Then, take it.” 

Your lips part, before your eyebrows furrow in anger. “I’m not stealin–” 

“Shh.” Sukuna places his hand over your mouth, practically glaring at you. “Don’t yell something like that, you’re going to draw attention.” He leans his hand over your head, intending to reach the ornament, but you stop him. 

“Are you kidding? Someone put that up there, you can’t just steal it ‘cause I like it.” You push his hand to the side, “Someone put it up there, someone like us.” 

“Us?” Sukuna asks, but… it doesn't seem like he’s making fun of your choice of wording. It sounds more like… he’s asking for clarification on what you mean. What does ‘us’ mean?

“Yeah. Us.” You look to the side, pushing your hair behind your shoulders. “Another… uh, couple.” You touch the tip of your finger to your bottom lip, “Two people spending their afternoon together, and not knowing what to…” You point your finger between the two of you, “...what to call this.” 

It is silent between you two, no words exchanging. 

Sukuna looks at you for a few moments, looking at your hands, before looking at your face. He nods, “Yeah…” He turns away, hands in his pockets. “Let's go home. It’s getting late, and we’re an hour out.” He turns on his heel, starting to walk away from you. 

You press your lips together, not completely sure how to feel. To take a final glance at the tree, looking at your cat ornament, before walking after him. You sigh, closing your eyes to regroup. 

Fine, it’s fine. He’s not telling you no, he’s just… agreeing with you?

You take a step forward, and quickly feel your foot slip, almost twisting your ankle in an awkward position, but you catch yourself. Stopping in your tracks to readjust your standing. 

Sukuna looks over his shoulder, “You almost fall?” 

You narrow your eyes, straightening your posture. “No.” 

“Right.” He cocks his head to the side, “Then hurry up, you’re draggin’ your feet.” 

“I’m not draggin’ my feet.” You mimic, walking after him, but you mentally cringe. Your feet were uncomfortable before, now they’re aching with pain. A very, very uncomfortable pain. 

You press your lights together tightly, trying to conceal the pained groan wanting to escape your lips. You truly feel this is a humbling moment, you’re not made for cute shoes, and you’re not mentally strong enough to wear them. 

It hurts. 

You shiver. 

And, I’m cold. 

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, “What’s wrong?” You watch as something flashes over his face, but you can’t describe what it is. “Are you not… enjoying yourself?”

“What? No, of course I am.” You reassure, finally standing by his side, “I’m just…” In a lot of pain, and starting to freeze my ass off from the cold. “...uh, tired from all the walking.” 

“Well, we got to walk back to the car.” Sukuna points in the general direction, “So, find a way to not be tired for the next fifteen minutes.” 

“Yeah.” You shiver again, sarcastically adding, “Let me just stop being tired right now.” You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep your warmth together. 

“Glad we can agree.” Sukuna keeps walking, closest to the street and now directly by your side. 

You hesitate to tell him, “I’m… cold.” Turning your face away from him so you can’t see his reaction. 

“I told you to get a sweater.” 

You feel your shoulder slump, “I know.” You slowly turn your face to him, but keep your eyes diverted. “It was going to ruin my outfit, ‘Kuna, I didn’t want to look ugly.” 

“It wasn’t goin’ to make you look ugly.” Sukuna adds, “You just overthink.” 

You huff, “Well, I’m still cold.” 

Sukuna softly sighs, and you can hear rustling, before something drapes over your head. Something warm, soft, and smells like… Sukuna. You pull it down your body, wrapping the sweat around your shoulder and slipping your arms through the sleeves. 

You zip up the sweater, burying your lower face into the sweater. Sukuna. You close your eyes, sighing with content. Sandalwood, a bit of citrus, and a toasty undertone. “I’m warm now.” 

“You better be.” Sukuna shivers, but he tries to hide it. “I’m suffering for your benefit.” 

You giggle, but mentally flinch with every step you take. Jesus, you’re in serious pain now, maybe you should've worn your normal shoes. 

“What is it now?” Sukuna brass asks. 

You furrow your eyebrows, “Are you kidding? I didn’t even say anything this time.” 

“You’re easy to read.” He tells you, placing his hand over your head. “You’ve always been easy to read.” 

“Then, why didn’t you know I liked you?” You place your hands on your hips, talking a few steps forward and turning on your heel. Walking backward while speaking to Sukuna, “If I’m so ‘easy to read,’ huh?” 

“How did you not know I liked you?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I did.” Sukuna gives you a face that can only be described as, ‘really?’ But, you quickly add, “I just… always doubted myself.” 

“Uh-huh.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “I’m sure.” 

“Well, I knew for a fact you cared for me in the least. Which is more than what you feel for the normal person.” You slip your fingers inside the sleeves, not enjoying how the cold is biting at them. “So, yeah.” 

Sukuna nods, “I remember that.” He sharply breathes out in a laugh, “I remember that scared me.” 

You tilt your head to the side, “Why?” 

“You were right.” He runs his hands through your hair, picking up a few strands. Before softly tugging on them, “Your stupid brain was right.”

“Hey.” You swap his hand away, “Just compliment me without an insult.” 

“Yeah right.” Sukuna flicks your head, “And let it get in your head? Yeah, no thanks, you’re already crazy as is.” 

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not crazy, you’re just obsessed with me.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, “Yeah.” You smile to yourself, leaning close to Sukuna and resting your head on his arm. “Obsessed enough to carry me to the car, because my feet are killing me.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“What? But, I thought you liked me?” 

“Not enough to carry you.” Sukuna narrows his eyes, trying to gage the distance between the two of you and his car. “We’re ten minutes away, I’m not carrying you.” Not only that, but he parked his car up a hill. 

You pout, slumping into your shoulder, but you quickly perk up again, a cheeky smile splitting your lips. “Ah, whatever.” You turn around, walking forward again. “Just sounds like you’re too weak to carry me.” You peer at Sukuna over your shoulder, “I guess Yuu is just the stronger brother then.” 

Sukuna’s eye twitches, “Fuck you.” 

—

One of your airpods is in your ear, while the other is in Sukuna’s. The two of you silently listening to your downloaded music on shuffle. You’re a bit embarrassed by the music playing, some being years old back when you were in middle school, and others being as recent as this week. 

You bounce with each step Sukuna takes, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your legs sticking out from his sides. Sukuna’s hands resting on the back of your thighs, supporting you against his body while he searches for his car. 

You’re a bit sleepy, your eyes heavy while your chin resting on his shoulder. One of your hands loosely holding onto your shopping bag. Sukuna can hear you humming along to the melody of the music playing,  and even though he’s never heard of the song playing, he thinks it's nice. You yawn, “‘Kuna?” 

Sukuna adjusts his hands on your body, “What.” 

You place your cheek on his shoulder, looking at the side of his face. You adore how pretty he is, his strong jaw, deep eyes, nose, and intricate tattoos. You’re almost jealous. “Do you like me?” You poke his cheek with your finger, tracing his tattoos. 

“No.” Sukuna turns his head away from you, “I hate you.” 

You sigh, closing your eyes again, “Yeah. I hate you, too.” Right as you say that, a very familiar melody plays in your ears. A song from a movie you adore more than anything. “Do you know this song?” Sukuna pauses for a moment, before nodding. You giggle, whispering, “The sun is nearly gone.” 

“You’re a horrible fuckin’ singer.” Sukuna teases. 

“Like you’re any better.” You snap back. 

“Yuuji’s actually really good at singing.” Sukuna tells you, before softly blowing a strand of your hair from his face. “He gets embarrassed, but the kid has skills. More than you, at least.” 

“Yuuji is amazing at everything.” You laugh, “To be honest, I think I’m in love with Yuuji.” You giggle against his neck, wiggling your shoulders playfully, “You okay with knowing that, ‘Kuna? That I’m actually obsessed with your brother, and not you?” 

Sukuna chuckles, “Yeah.” He jolts you up again, “I know.” 

You hum, “That’s tailor made for two.” You whisper, “What a shame those two are you, and me.” You giggle, “Oh my god, I literally love this song so much.” You glare at him, “It’s criminal you don’t know this song.”  

“I have this movie memorized.” Sukuna adds, next to your ear. 

You playfully scoff, placing your hands on his neck, “And you think I’m cringe?” You push his shoulder playfully, “I think you might be worse than me.” 

“I didn’t watch La La Land by choice, Yuuji forced me.” Sukuna looks to the side, placing his hands into his pockets.

You slowly stop, glancing at the sun setting. It’s a bit covered by the clouds, “Yeah. I’m sure watching Sailor Moon also wasn’t a choice.” For some reason, it’s colder than before. 

Sukuna stops with you, gaze joining yours. “I was like, fourteen when it came out? Besides, that movie was horrible.” 

You gasp dramatically, popping your head back to look at his face. “Take that back.” 

“Take what back?” Sukuna asks, passing you a playful look. “My thoughts?” 

You nod, “Yes, especially if your thoughts are wrong.”

“What would make my thoughts right?” 

“If they agree with my thoughts.”

“I do agree with you.” 

“Not in the right way.” 

Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, but he shakes his head with a subtle smile. “You’re bipolar.” 

You nod, leaning into Sukuna’s neck and resting there. “Yeah.” Your tone is soft, your eyes fluttering closed. “You are too.” 

“Thanks.” Sukuna rests his chin on the top of your head, continuing to make his way to his car, but you can feel him stop. The pressure of your head being removed as he looks up. “Look.” 

You sigh before looking up, but you flinch when something soft and cold hits your nose. 

Snow. 

Your lips part in awe for a moment, before you slide down from Sukuna’s arms.“It didn’t snow last year.” 

“It didn’t.” Sukuna furrows his eyebrows ever so slightly, “In fact, this place isn’t really known for snowing, like–at all.” 

You turn quickly on your heel, “Oh my god, what if us being together set off a canon event, or the start of the end of the world.” You place your hand over your mouth, “Wait, no–” 

“Stop talking.” Sukuna continues walking, “We’re literally five parking spaces away from my car, just stop talking for the rest of the way.” He reaches into his pocket, grabbing your keys. 

You roll your eyes, but walk after him. But, quickly pull the back of his shirt, making him stop walking. “Sukuna?” 

He nods. 

“Uh.” You take a deep breath, “Thank you for, uh, taking me out.” You can feel your heart rate increase, you’re so nervous to be saying this, and you don’t even know why. “It means a lot to me, and I had… I had a lot of fun.” 

Sukuna finally turns on his heel to look at you. 

You let your hand drop back to your side, “It really… uhm, it means a lot.” 

“You already said that.” 

“I’m trying to thank you here!” You can feel your face burning up with embarrassment. Why can’t Sukuna take anything seriously for one second? 

Sukuna nods, biting the inside of his cheek while subtly smiling. “I know.” He leans down, pushing your hair behind your ear, “You don’t need to thank me.” 

You flutter your lashes, looking to the side bashfully, “But, I do.” You look back at him, tilting your head up, “I really appreciate you, this was really nice.” You press your lips together. 

There’s silence between the two of you, and you don’t know how to fill it. It’s not unpleasant, and a part of you never wants to change it, you want things to stay like this forever. Sukuna touching you softly, a comfortable oura between the two of you. 

Sukuna’s eyes dip, before he lowers himself to finally kiss you. His lips are soft against yours, contrasting to the way he kissed you in the dressing room. It's loving, adoring, and longing. His tongue slips past your lips and swipes against yours, before he pulls away. 

Sukuna places his forehead on yours, “I’m… I had fun.” 

Your smile is loving, before you whisper, “I think I want to give you my gift.” You lean in close again, your lips ghosting over his, “Can I do that?” Your hands reach for his.  

He nods, before his eyes light up with a realization, “Oh, wait, I also got something else for you.” He leans back and reaches into the shopping bag that held your jewelry. 

You shake your head, “You spent more money on me?” You ask a bit dreaded. 

“No.” 

“Oh.” You blink a few times, “Then, what is it?” 

Sukuna’s holding something in his hand, and you can’t see it. But, he’s holding it out for you, waiting for you to extend your hand to take it. 

You hesitate, “Uh…” You jut your eyebrows, “Is it… a bug?”

Sukuna glares at you, “Yes, it’s a fuckin’ bug. No?” He shakes his head, “Just take it.” 

You put your hand out, and wearily accept the item–or bug–Sukuna is handing to you. Once it’s resting in your hand, you feel your heart drop. 

“Sukuna.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you?” You look up, then look back at your hand. “When did you even get the chance to steal this?” 

“When you weren’t looking.” Sukuna’s looking at the ornament in your hand, “Don’t you like it?” 

“I mean, yeah? But, this doesn’t…” You laugh, trying to hide your smile. “You know what, I love it. Really thoughtful, and risky gift.” You start moving to Sukuna’s car again, “We can put it on our tree.” 

“We still don’t have a tree.” He’s walking behind you, opening up the trunk of his car to place your empty bag inside. 

“I can make an origami one.” You think for a moment, “Wait, origami Christmas trees are real, right?” You look in the trunk, and quickly swipe at your red lip gloss you had supposedly left inside. 

“Pretty sure.” Sukuna shuts the trunk, watching as you swipe your lip gloss wand over your lips. “While we’re driving home, you can search up what’s needed, and I’ll swing by Micheal’s.” 

“Wait, but I want to give you my gift first!” You grab his hand, tugging him to his car, but you pause at the doors of the driver's side. You lean up and press a quick kiss to his lips, “Let me give you my gift first, please.”

Sukuna watches you open the door, and pull the driver's seat forward, allowing you to slip into the backseats of his car. He feels his throat bob, watching your dress ride up your ass, and letting him look at your pink lacy panties. 

How could he say no to you?

HERE'S PART TWO!

Tag(s)!: @openup-yourmind, @sherlock-holmes-jr, @maskedpacific, @gasp-a-homo, @diogodxlot, @beahappyhoeee, @tojimeow, @sukunamylovexoxo, @yoontaedotin, @sukunaloverrr, @lanadelreylover4l, @raininginthemoonlight, @blackjanexx, @ethereally-lyann, @fritzzbitzz, @lanadelreylover4l, @chayunwoo, @madamteller, @mazzd4, @haithamsbb, @c-l-ellis, @samysaha, @pi-crust, @shukiinnkm

He's my princess ❤️❤️

“based on me and my husband”

it’s possible guys, it really is—they exist 🤧🤧🤧 love this a lot 🥹🌟

── the last bite

cw: pure fluff. based on me and my husband 🙂‍↕️

“You always do this…” Satoru grumbles, pouting as he watches your fork hover over his plate.

“...do what?” You blink at him, feigning innocence, eyes flicking from his cake to the irritated gleam in his impossibly blue eyes.

He exhales dramatically, stabbing his fork into his dessert. “I offer to get you your own. You say you’re not that hungry. And yet—” he gestures dramatically at your thieving fork, “the second my food arrives, suddenly you want some.”

You spear a bite of cake and pop it into your mouth, humming as the sweet vanilla melts on your tongue. “I wasn’t hungry… but then I saw yours, and, well…” You shrug, licking a stray bit of frosting from your lip.

Satoru narrows his eyes.  “…you’re lucky you’re cute."

It’s the same game every time. You insist you don’t want anything, he orders enough food for an entire table, and then he acts personally victimized when you steal a bite. But the thing is—he secretly loves it.

Because when you reach for another piece, he doesn’t push the plate away. He just watches, twirling his fork between long fingers, head tilting slightly, strands of white hair falling into his eyes as if he cannot believe this is happening to him.

“Unbelievable...” he mutters.

And then—there’s one bite left.

You expect him to shovel it into his mouth, just to be a menace. He’s Gojo Satoru, after all. He loves his sweets almost as much as he loves annoying the hell out of you—it’s one of his favorite pastimes.

But instead, he sighs, scooping the last bite of cake onto his fork. He doesn’t say anything. Just holds it up to your lips, the blue of his eyes shimmering like liquid crystal as he waits, watching you expectantly.

You hesitate, blinking at him. “I… thought you didn’t like sharing?”

“I don’t,” he murmurs, voice lower, softer—nudging the fork closer. “But… I do like you.”

Gojo Satoru may complain, may huff and sigh like it’s the greatest inconvenience in the world, but at the end of the day… he’ll always give you the last bite.

smiling the whole time I was reading this 🤭 I love this so much

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

this should be canon 🥹😩

Saw a panel with gojo's bloody face and then this little sketch happened.

🫠🫠🫠

tw: death, 18+ only: sukuna is very protective over his little wife.

“Woah, she’s hot!”

That was the first comment. SUKUNA knew then he wanted to kill this man.

“Shit, look at her.” The vulgar stranger whistled, his lustful eyes trailing the curves of your body. “I hope I can get five minutes alone with her in the bathroom.”

Sukuna swallowed a sip of his dark liquor.

He and this stranger were the only two individuals at the gathering sitting on the couches instead of mingling with the others. It was the perfect spot for him to keep an eye on you, his sweet little wife, but him alone. This man? Who dared to join Sukuna on the couch and pour himself a shot of whiskey?

He was going to die tonight. Sukuna was certain of it.

Sukuna turned to face one of the bodyguards standing beside the couch — not that Sukuna needed any protection. Silently, he gestured in your direction, and the bodyguard immediately understood Sukuna’s wordless command.

The stranger watched the interaction take place. He watched the guard approach you and guide you over to the sitting area, and he smiled wildly.

“You’re bringing her to me? You’re a good man,” he said.

Sukuna took another sip of his dark liquor.

When you arrived, a kind smile on your face, Sukuna put his glass down on a nearby table and patted his lap twice.

Happily, you took your seat, and his large hand rubbed your hip.

Oh, the man was stunned. Angry.

“Hey, I called dibs on that bitch first,” he spat.

Sukuna watched the corners of your lips fall as the man continued on, on, and on. During his ramble, Sukuna whispered in your ear, “Close your eyes and cover your ears, girl.”

You did as you were told, though it did little to muffle the sound of the gunshot that came seconds later.

The party guests were silent for a moment, but after observing you in Sukuna’s lap, a gun in his hand, and an unfamiliar dead body bleeding out on the couch, they were quick to return to their conversations.

After all, Sukuna owned this building. This party was his. And this wasn’t the first time he had to murder someone on his kindhearted wife’s behalf.

“Hey,” Sukuna, who was aggressive with every other soul except for you, spoke softly. “I’ll cheer you up when we get home, pretty girl.”

With him, that could have meant watching reruns of your favorite show with you, or him sloppily licking at your clit until you came repeatedly.

More than likely both.