in my mind

[axryl]

long night with your hands up in my hair,

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️ apryl / kore ▹ she/her ▹ 20 year old ▹ filo ·˚ ༘

echoes of your footsteps on the stairs,

▸ masterlists ; genshin impact / haikyuu / jujutsu kaisen

stay here honey, i don't wanna share

▸ guidelines (← rules/byf/dni) ▸ tags ▸ carrd

cause i like you

©axryl, 2023 — do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my works without prior permission and/or confirmation on any platform!

[sukunahs]

crazy in love | ryomen sukuna

pairing: serial killer!sukuna x reader

summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.

he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.

if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.

content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's LOVELY to reader exclusively, more tags to be added on a chapter by chapter basis!

chapter 1: temptations

chapter 2: exactly what he wants

chapter 3: everything is romantic

chapter 4: bad at love

chapter 5: everybody scream

chapter 6: the rotten ones

chapter 7: innocence lost

chapter 8: ups and downs (coming soon)

chapter 9: it's nothing new

[yenayaps]

i finally got around to reading this series and ik there’s something wrong with him but still

[wkbsrco]

thinking about gordon ramsay husband!sukuna who has michelin star restaurants all around the globe, but his kids hate when he cooks.

“mom cooks waaaaay better!” his eldest screams. you stifle a laugh behind him, ladle in hand while wearing a pretty apron.

he glares at his kid as if he isn’t a spitting image of the tattooed man. “you’re lucky I can’t kick you out.” sukuna scoffs. “if it were up to me, you and your sister would be out, and I’d have your mom all to myself!” he cackles.

then, your voice from the entryway of the kitchen brings him back to reality. “really ryo’? threatening your son and daughter?” you mock playfully. “what would the world say if celebrity chef, sukuna ryomen, was caught threatening his children just to bed his wife?”

“ew, mom!” your son says in disgust as you laugh. then, your daughter tugs on your flowy pants. “mama… what does that mean?”

you lift her up into your arms then kiss her little cheek. “nothing, baby. your daddy and I are just being sweet, m’kay?” you speak in a honeyed tone that even sukuna doesn’t doubt your blatant lie.

your daughter blows a raspberry towards her father, further mocking the somewhat furious man. he comes closer and just sighs onto your neck. “I can’t believe our children are such brats,” he huffs.

“they take from you,” you tease.

your son feigns vomiting, making the sound as convincing as possible. “barf! imagine being six foot three and acting like a baby!”

sukuna just looks at the pink-haired child. “you’ll understand when you find a girlfriend slash wife. you’d have the former by now if you had any game.” you pinch your husband’s side, pretending not to giggle at the jab at your son.

🗒️: raw isn’t so bad is it, mr. sukuna?

[theorphicangel]

grumpy barista!sukuna x reader

a note from angel: im sorry i need to stop making new series this is an addiction of mine that i can't stop, pls sukuna leave me alone, i feel like im making a multiverse of sukunas.

synopsis: trying a new coffee shop didn't end up going your way when a mean barista takes your order. the problem? he's rude as fuck but he's the best at making your drinks. when you end up giving him a taste of his own medicine, you end up in a deal where this grumpy barista finds himself in the habit of making your morning coffee. everyday. for the next seven days.

tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, barista!sukuna, fluff, crack

word count: 3.7k words

Coffee is part of your daily routine.

If you don't start your day with coffee then it can be ensured that the day will be a terrible day.

You're not strict about your coffee, you don't simply stick to one type of drink. You're the type to explore and try new things. From lattes, to espressos, to cappuccinos, matcha, chai tea, hojicha and a lot more. The convenience of living in a big city is that there will always be a bunch of cafes and coffee shops to try with new businesses opening all over the blocks.

You've made it your own personal mission to try as many new shops in the city, not limiting yourself to one place. You want to support as much of the local businesses as possible, staying away from the big corporate brands. You have enough dealing with business and corporate issues in your work life so the least you can do is support your local community in your personal free time.

On your scout to work you happen to come across a new coffee shop. It's slightly hidden on the block but the brand name and minimalist colours catch your eye.

'Fuga.'

You're interested immediately. Coming to a stop outside, the meaning of the shop name is printed in white on the window. 'Fuga — One of the Japanese meanings of this is 'a way of elegance or grace'. We hope to include fuga with every order that we take; there's no rush, just sit back and enjoy.'

The opening and closing times are also unusual. They're open in time for the usual morning rush hour but unlike other coffee stores, they stay open until 9pm. You can't imagine the shifts that their staff must take and how much happens behind the scenes.

Despite being hidden, it is the morning rush hour on a weekday and through the window you can clearly see that there is a queue forming. Underrated coffee shops get discovered pretty quickly these days thanks to social media and it's not long until they'll be announcing a sister location somewhere else in the city.

Stepping inside, a bell chimes overhead but it's drowned out due to the hustle and bustle inside the shop. The scent of crushed coffee beans hits you immediately and the sound of lofi music playing in the background is just about heard over the level of conversations in the store.

Joining the queue, your eyes scan the cafe. It's pretty spacey compared to the other units that most coffee shops rent out. There's clearly more places to sit in the back and all of the window seats are currently taken. There's a handful of students and people in suits either sat working away on their laptops or taking a call. In the corner an old man is sitting back and enjoying a cup of his own hot coffee.

There's three people currently manning the counter and you worry whether that means service is slow but on further observation you notice they work well, weaving in and out of each other. There's a man situated at the till, tall and large you first notice. Then you see that he has pink hair and it's only when you inch closer to being served that you notice he has an array of black tattoos. They're printed on his face as well as around his wrists and you start to wonder how many baristas you've seen with face tattoos.

He seems to be the first.

Behind him seems to be a white haired figure with a plum pink stripe dyed into their hair. It's clear that whoever employs these people are very laid back with how they are presented. The figure moves quickly but also with caution pouring and making drinks before bringing them to the collection section and calling out a name.

You've been so caught up in studying the new environment of the cafe that you don't even realise that it's your turn next. You haven't had the chance to look at the menu so when you finally do, you're left with your mouth open in front of the tattooed man. And on closer observation you find that he's rather intimidating.

"Good morning." you greet.

"What do you want?" he asks in a monotone tone evident that he's been repeating this question for a while. You brush off the fact that he hasn't greeted you back and you simply hum as you stare at the menu.

It's evident that you're irritating the barista by not even knowing what you want, the bored expression on his face and his finger impatiently tapping the counter. Your eyes are scanning the menu until he finally says something that in all of your years of going to local cafes have never heard in your life.

"Can you hurry up?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said," he draws as if it's painfully inconveniencing him to repeat himself, "can you hurry up? There's a queue behind you." It's evident in his tone that he's not asking but rather ordering you to do so and for a split second there's a moment in which you forget that you are in fact the customer.

"I'm aware." you say, "I'm deciding."

"You had two minutes to decide." he retorts.

"I've never been here before, of course I'm going to take my time looking at the menu." you keep a calm tone making it clear that you don't want any misunderstandings.

"Do you want a medal? What's your order?"

Fine. You think to yourself, you're gonna give him the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe it's been a long morning, maybe he wasn't supposed to be on shift today but then got called in, maybe he's just an asshole. You don't care. But what you do care about is getting your morning coffee as usual.

"Vanilla latte with oat milk please."

"We're out of oat milk." he announces keeping his tone flat with enough space to add some frustration into it as if this was your own fault.

"Really?"

He doesn't reply, keeping a blank face that silently asks 'do I look like I'm joking?'

"Uhhh, could I get an iced strawberry matcha then please?"

"We're out."

You hold back a sigh, forcing a tight lipped smile on your face. "Fine. A cappuccino. Any milk you have. Please."

The barista doesn't look up, tapping onto a screen. "Regular or large?"

"What's the difference?" you ask.

He points to the side where the size cup differences are shown and as usual the large is 50p extra.

"Regular."

"Name?"

After giving your name, he mutters something under his breath and if you were in a bad mood this morning then you would have asked him what his issue was but instead you keep quiet, silently wishing he spills lukewarm coffee all over his disgustingly attractive face. Somehow. If it was logical to spill coffee on one's face.

"Four fifty. Tap your card and stand over there." he orders without any patience.

You don't even think twice before tapping your phone and moving immediately. In your mind you continue to curse him forever whilst watching his back muscles move swiftly as he makes your drink. Him and the white haired figure switched places with him making your order and his co-worker now at the till.

You expected a long wait but it takes less than five minutes before he's yelling out your name with impatience.

And he pronounced it wrong.

Whether it was on purpose or he wasn't listening to you at all, you'll never know but you go ahead and take your order. You can't even say thank you directly before he's rushing off and completing another order. Deciding to get out as soon as possible, you grab as many sugar packets you need, a stirrer and you head on out.

"How fucking rude." you mutter to yourself, opening the lid to your cappuccino. There's no latte art and you wouldn't expect there to be given the rush. You pour your sugar in and stir until satisfied, slowly making your way to the office building.

Sure, you know baristas are sometimes not the most welcoming people given the high stress level of their jobs and you've come across some reclusive baristas before but this one…he's just plain rude. You don't usually complain about how people do their job but this one has really struck a nerve.

How was he hired in the first place? Does the manager know he speaks to customers like this? How did he even pass an interview to get hired for this place? Does he act like this with all his customers?

Those are the questions that you continue to ask yourself whilst on the way to work, you get a little distracted after taking a sip of your coffee and coming to find out that your cappuccino is actually pretty good. Usually some cafes don't do cappuccinos the right way but there's something about this cup that makes you wonder what exact type of coffee bean they use.

You make a mental note to check later in your free time and it's not long before you start to feel rejuvenated by your coffee. Despite your bad customer service, you still manage to get a good cup of coffee to support your day and it's almost enough to forget your bad interaction.

*** Almost.

That cup of coffee was good.

Good enough to make you check their company website and check their 'about us' page.

And of course it just so happens that you stumble onto their google reviews.

Fuga Coffee Shop | reviews (54)

Naturally, your laptop cursor clicks onto their reviews. They only opened two months ago so it's understandable why the reviews must be so low, they're just starting out. The reviews are automatically filtered to their top reviews, which is from just over two weeks ago.

ihatemonkeys009

The grumpy tattooed barista is a little anti-social but he makes the best lattes ever! will be coming back again! four stars.

"A little?" you say aloud to yourself, "give me a break."

The review that follows under that is also highly popular.

ghostsarerealiswear2334_67

free wifi and they open early and don't close till late?! best study place ever! (please like my review!) five stars.

kentoforwork89

A nice and newly established restaurant under the Japanese name 'Fuga', the name is fitting for its elegant service and high quality coffee. They have a wide range on the menu and serve food too. The cafe is spacious, plenty of space to study or work and if you use electronics they have power sockets dotted around. Good prices for the service and highly reliable. I will be coming here again as it is not overwhelmingly busy or loud like some other places. I highly recommend. four and a half stars.

ilovesweetssooooooooooomuchhhgojo9838

tHE tattooed barisSta maybe be cold hoever his coffees are the warmest!!!!! xoxoxoxo peefect date location (soz for typos idid this fast on my phone so i coulget fre emochi) FIVE STARTS

You let out a sigh reading the reviews, it's a little cheesy but you get the point. Reading all 54 reviews you've come to find that a lot of people find the same tattooed barista annoying but miraculously all is forgotten once you've tried a coffee from him.

There isn't one totally bad review — maybe from an AI bot who says that the location is in a whole other city but other than that it's clear that this cafe is a new and upcoming contender as one of the best spots in the city.

And that doesn't sit right in your soul.

Taking this personally as someone who runs a company, you understand that if people were talking about your employees in this manner then they would be subject to being fired. You're confused on how this man is still employed even after fifty reviews, surely the owner must be reading them.

You sit in silence for a while as you contemplate.

Should you?

Or shouldn't you?

Hesitant, your fingers hover over your keyboard, testing out a sentence.

i tried this cafe as a new customer — no, no, too cliche, you backspace your sentence entirely.

Thinking for a moment, you reflect on what you want to say. You start typing slowly before it all flows within your fingertips, a mini paragraph forming on your screen. You're writing in the heat of the moment, out of pure frustration and embarrassment. Most people would be able to forgive and forget but well…unfortunately you're not most people.

anonymouscapybara45

this place is relatively new in this city and as a coffee lover i was extremely enthusiastic to try this place out. my high hopes for this cafe were quickly crushed once i was (not even greeted) but completely mistreated by the tattooed barista.

i did not like this service, no matter how good the quality of the coffee was.

i do not think a barista should be talking to customers like this. i felt severely unwelcomed and i am having second thoughts on returning to this place.

there's better and kinder staff in other cafes in the city who i will gladly give my money too.

1 out of 5 stars.

Sure, it's a little…Karen but you feel petty. Highlighting all the adverbs makes you think that your english teacher from high school would be proud. There's a small feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach as it dawns on you that your review will be the first one star review the company has ever had.

But this is not a baseless review. You actually felt this way at the time. It's a little exaggerated but who cares, they don't know you and they never will because you're not stepping foot there ever again.

There's not much satisfaction in the world that you can get other than pressing post on your review.

***

An hour later you've moved on with your life. You've settled into your home, following your post-work routine and you're now sitting on your couch. Your phone lights up with a notification and your eyes land on the screen.

You get a notification from your gmail that someone has mentioned you in a reply and with your thumb clicking on the message your eyes slightly widen.

The owner has replied to your message.

And for the first time it seems because they haven't seemed to reply to all the other positive messages on the site.

You'd forgotten that this was an option for them, simply thinking that your review would just get the employee removed. Your eyes skim over the reply.

From the Owner of Fuga in reply to anonymouscapybara45

Hello valued customer,

we apologise that you have had this experience recently, it is never our intention to make our customers feel this way. Our company and brand relies majorly on the respect and communication with our customers which is always taught and trained to our employees. We apologise for the actions and behaviour of our barista and on behalf of the company we would like to invite you to have any item on our menu free of charge over the course of the week. We would like to give you a seven day voucher and invite you back to a better atmosphere of our cafe to show you truly how we treat our customers.

Please pop into our cafe at your convenience. We look forward to seeing you and we apologise again for your experience.

Kind regards,

Fuga Owner (Jin Itadori)

Your mind is baffled.

Free drinks…for a week? Because of your bad review?

Not even the other low starred reviews have had this level of response from the owner. You're the first one star review they've had and they haven't even responded maliciously. You can't pass up on this good of an opportunity to have free coffee for the next week? You could be saving a ridiculous amount of money.

You re-read the review a few times to make sure that it still seems real to your eyes.

Maybe it will be the last time that you'll see that barista again.

**

You try your luck the following day. You're a bit more hopeful walking into the coffee shop the next day. It's a little less busier than the previous day and the queue is a little shorter.

But most important of them all, you don't see that tattooed jerk around.

This time serving the till is the white haired figure you saw making the drinks the last time you arrived. Behind them works another person that you haven't seen before who has their back turned making orders.

Soon enough it's your turn to go up to the till.

"Hello." They greet and almost immediately you feel comfortable that you won't be shunned for simply being a customer at this cafe.

"Good morning," you greet back with a smile before explaining your situation. "This may be a bit awkward but uhm, I was the customer who wrote a review of this cafe and uh— the owner said I was given a voucher as some sort of compensation."

For a second you thought you were scammed or that the entire thing was a lie just to catch the poor customer who's written terrible reviews but you watch as the wave of recognition hits the barista.

Instead they nod and say, "one moment" before turning around to head to the back. You shift from one foot to the other, patiently waiting and in the meantime thinking of what you'd want to get as your first free drink.

Your smile soon drops once you see the figure that follows the person that you were speaking to at the till.

That tattooed bastard.

His eyes widen slightly at the sight of you before turning into a miserable frown, clearly he wasn't expecting you to be the customer who wrote the review but there's also something that tells you that he's not totally surprised.

The white haired barista makes their way back to you, "If you go over to Sukuna he can help you with your voucher."

Sukuna. Now you know his name. And now you know he's somehow still employed by this damn coffee shop.

You walk over with hesitation and you can't help but notice Sukuna's eyes watching you as you make your over to a quiet area.

"It was you." he says but there's no bite to his tone. It's merely a statement he's making but you don't miss the judgement in his eyes.

"I was being honest." you shrug, holding your head high. You have no regrets whatsoever, you were merely giving constructive feedback about an environment that felt hostile to you. About a certain someone who was hostile.

Sukuna leans in a little closer to you, one hand placed on the counter as he speaks to you. "Because of you and your stupid review I have to serve you free drinks for a week, which is coming out of my pay by the way."

"Maybe it'll teach you how to speak nicer to customers." you retort back.

You notice his hand turning into a tight fist, gripping the counter, clearly holding back on responding to you. With his other hand he slides over a piece of paper. "Here's your damn voucher and, no I didn't write it, so what do you want?"

You tilt your head a little at him.

Sukuna corrects himself and in a deadpan monotone he starts over. "Hello. Welcome to Fuga. What would you like today?"

A satisfied smile reaches your lips. "Much better. I would like an iced strawberry matcha with oat milk please."

"Regular or large?"

"Hmm since it's on the house, large please."

"It's not on the house…" he mutters.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Hmmmmm."

Sukuna disappears, diving into the hustle and bustle of his other colleagues making your own personal drink. As he makes your drink you look over your voucher, Sukuna's written today's date already and the expiry date is set seven days from now.

Once again, your order doesn't take him long and you spot your green and pink drink in his large hands. Approaching he hands your drink over to you which you thank before taking a sip.

On your tongue, the grassy flavour is immediately sedated by the sweetness of the strawberry at the bottom. There's the perfect amount of ice and matcha in your drink for you to enjoy and it takes everything in you not to fall to your knees and praise Sukuna on how great he's made this drink.

"Not bad." you murmur, downplaying your enthusiasm. "Can I get another free drink?"

"One per day stupid."

"The voucher doesn't clarify that, it's handwritten."

"I don't care."

"Would you like me to write another poor review?"

Now this is what gets Sukuna clenching his jaw together. He takes a pause, calming himself down before speaking to you again. "No anonymouscapybara45 I wouldn't like that because you got me in a lot of shit for this."

You don't flinch when he mentions your username. Ah, so he's read the review then. You quip back, "Your boss fire you yet?"

"No," and there's a slight pout, "he's just annoying the shit out of me at the moment."

"Hmm right, if you make me an iced vanilla latte with oat milk to go I think I might just refrain from writing a bad review about you for today."

You watch as he clenches his jaw in frustration. "Just this once. For the rest of the days you get one drink only."

"And a sweet treat!" you chime in.

Sukuna pauses, mulling over your suggestion. He lets out a sigh.

"A free drink and a snack." He offers.

"Deal." You outstretch your free hand to shake on.

Sukuna looks at your hand in pure disgust like you've just offered to spit in his mouth. "Deal. Just don't make my job harder than it needs to be." he mutters.

"I don't think I can promise that." you reply and you watch in pure satisfaction as he walks away mumbling to himself.

thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed :) i won't be running a taglist for this mini series (pls it is mini) but ya comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

[theorphicangel]

beefing with barista!sukuna who doesn't care about his job because he doesn't get paid enough and is rude to all his customers especially his new ones.

why is he still hired?

because he makes the best damn coffee in the city.

he's fast and efficient, he won't say good morning or ask you how your day was but he'll make the best vanilla latte you'll ever have.

the first time you tried this cafe you were incredibly intimidated.

you took too long to decide what you wanted, asked to see the difference between the large and regular and then changed your order halfway to oat milk just after sukuna typed it in the till.

you get on his damn last nerve and he makes it obvious. he pronounces your name wrong on purpose for collection and doesn't even smile.

the next time you return to the cafe, you come a little more prepared. you know what you want, the size and the type of milk. you say your order as fast as possible with no greetings in hopes of becoming one of his favourites.

that's until it all backfires.

"we're out of oat milk." sukuna announces with a deadpan tone.

"uhhhh..."

"hurry up we don't have all day."

"could i get a strawberry matcha latte then?"

"we're out."

"caramel?"

"finished."

"cappuccino."

"four fifty, tap your card and move over to collection."

you can feel the sweat build across your body just from the anxiety he gives you. he still pronounces your name wrong and he doesn't even look up at you when you ask where the sugars are.

it seems like you just can't win can you?

full oneshot

[beaniesayshi]

asking Sukuna if you're too clingy

The bedroom is entirely silent, illuminated only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp on his side of the bed. It’s late, well past midnight, and Sukuna’s propped up against the pillows in nothing but boxers, holding a book open in his right hand, completely at ease, while the other is trapped beneath your weight.

Sprawled shamelessly across his side, your cheek pressed right over his ribs, you let your body go limp while your mind refuses to follow suit. Restlessness creeps in, your thoughts racing in circles, dredging up problems just for the sake of having something to gnaw on. The silence makes your thoughts feel way too loud, twisting a thin, ridiculous thread of worry out of nothing at all.

Your eyes drift over the page of his book without taking in a single word, and before you can stop yourself, the question tumbles out into the dim room, your voice barely above a whisper and oddly hesitant.

"You ever think I'm too clingy? Like... you ever wish I gave you more space?"

Sukuna freezes beneath your cheek, every muscle going rigid. After a moment, he drops his book onto the nightstand, tilting his head down, crimson eyes blown wide with pure, flat-out bewilderment. He stares at you, genuinely trying to figure out if he heard you right, like you’ve suddenly started speaking a completely foreign language.

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" he asks, his gravelly voice dropping into a low, stunned rumble that cuts right through the quiet air. He shifts under you, eyebrow cocked, shooting you a look like you’ve just sprouted horns. "Where the hell is this coming from? Who put that stupid shit in your head?"

"Dunno," you mumble, heat creeping up your cheeks as the words hang in the air, sounding even more absurd now that they’re out. Your fingers fidget with a stray thread on the duvet, eyes glued to the fabric. "My brain’s just being an asshole tonight."

A deep, exasperated scoff rumbles out of your husband, but the tightness in his jaw softens almost immediately, replaced by a raw, unguarded fondness that settles over his face.

“Woman, have you been paying attention to me at all these past few years? Seriously, think for one fucking second, idiot." The command comes out rough, but there’s no bite to it, just a lot of tired fondness. He jerks his chin at the bed, making you actually look at the state of things. "Look at you. You’re basically glued to my side, I can’t even move my damn arm. You’re in my shirt, you stole my socks, and your freezing-ass hand is between my thighs. If I wanted space, trust me, you’d be on the floor."

A tiny, involuntary giggle slips out of you, but he’s not finished. His hand squeezes your waist as he shifts beneath you just enough to remind you how much bigger he is.

“I’m a grown-ass man. I’m stronger than you,” he goes on, his voice rumbling right through his chest and into your cheek. "If I wanted to move, I'd move. But you? You’re glued to me every fucking day, stealing my personal space since day one. You climb on me when I’m trying to read, treat me like a mattress—and I never stop you. Ever think that’s because I want you there?”

His hand comes up, large and rough, calloused fingers curling gently beneath your chin, tipping your face toward his. Shadows flicker across his features, but his eyes lock onto yours with a fierce, protective devotion that knocks the breath right out of you.

“I agreed to that stupid ‘hear me out’ cake just to hear you laugh,” he rumbles, shaking his head, and at last, a wide grin splits his face. “I drove across the city so you could look at ducks. Does that sound like a man who wants less of you? Your brain’s being a dick. Tell it to shut up.”

“…fair,” you admit quietly, and the heavy, tangled knot of overthinking in your chest finally starts to unravel under the weight of his logic.

“Actually, hold the fuck on,” Sukuna growls, moving from underneath you to lean over you, completely wrapping you in his bulk. “You think you’re the clingy one?”

Caught completely off guard by the sudden intensity in his voice, you blink up at him.

“I call you every fucking day, or you’d forget to eat,” he starts, not giving you a chance to interrupt, his eyes locking onto yours. "Started doing that stupid skincare with you. Hid roses around the apartment just so you’d smile all day. Crawled under a fucking car because you wanted a cat. I panic if you’re not in bed, can’t fall back asleep till you’re back in my arms. Let you tank my fucking CS rank ‘cause apparently you gotta touch my arm every six seconds. And you think I want more space? You think I’d still be here doing all that shit if you were too much for me?”

You stay completely silent, your mouth parting slightly as you stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs from the weight of everything he’s just said. He, on the other hand, is looking at you like you’re absolutely hopeless.

“Use your goddamn brain, woman,” Sukuna murmurs with a crooked grin, his deep voice thick with fondness. “Who’s actually clingy in this relationship? I’ve been chasing after you for years…” He trails off, clicks his tongue, then reluctantly admits, “…like a fucking idiot.”

Whatever heavy, stupid fog was clouding your mind finally lifts, swept away by a rush of pure warmth. A bright smile breaks across your face as your hands slide up his bare chest, arms winding tight around his neck to pull him down into a deep, lingering kiss.

Sukuna lets out a satisfied chuckle against your lips as he pulls back just slightly, crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "Understood?"

A breathless laugh escapes you, your chest still fluttery with relief. "Yeah. Thanks, Kuna." You kiss him again, softer this time, lips lingering on his. When you pull away, you can’t help but smile, teasing, "And it’s definitely you."

He groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "Don’t start, brat."

 

a/n: okay, so this happened because someone asked me to write about insecurities, and that ask somehow sent me down a completely different rabbit hole. i started thinking about the difference between insecurities and your brain just deciding to be an absolute asshole for one evening and… well, this happened.

dunno, maybe it's because my previous adhd meds used to make me overthink once they wore off, and it'd always be the most ridiculous stuff i'd never question in a million years otherwise.

domestic sukuna masterlist

[beaniesayshi]

asking Sukuna about the date he planned for tonight, except… he never planned one a/n: got such an amazing idea in an ask that i just had to write it

It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, and you’re both sitting in his gaming room. Sukuna’s at his desk, sprawled out in nothing but loose sweatpants, lazily scrolling through something on his PC while a stream hums low from his second monitor. Off to the side, you’re sunk deep into your oversized armchair, legs tucked up, twirling a strand of hair around your finger like you’re not plotting the most dangerous trap he’s ever walked into.

A soft, thoughtful hum slips from your lips as your gaze drifts over to his profile, lingering on the broad expanse of his bare torso, and for a moment, it’s genuinely difficult to remember you’re supposed to be scheming.

“Hey, when should I start getting ready?” you ask softly, sounding like it’s no big deal.

“For what?” he asks, barely glancing away from his screen.

“What do you mean, for what?” you shoot back, giving him your most innocent grin. “For the date you said you planned.”

Sukuna freezes, his hand pausing mid-click over the mouse. For a split second, his brain short-circuits so violently you can almost see the static. He swivels his chair to face you fully, crimson eyes locking onto yours, searching your face for any hint, any clue. His mind races through every conversation, every text, every random comment from the last few weeks, desperately trying to figure out what the fuck he supposedly promised.

Did she say something last week? Did I promise something while half asleep? Fuck, did I actually invite her for a date and forget?

“The... date,” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave as he does his best to sound completely unbothered and in control. “Yeah, yeah—get ready soon.”

"Mm... what are you wearing then?" you ask, resting your chin in your hand. "I don't know if we're matching the vibe or not."

A beat of silence drops over the room, thick and deafening. Sukuna’s jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath his ear, and his eyes drift back to the monitor, but it’s obvious he isn’t seeing a thing. Inside his head, gears grind together at a breakneck pace, panic threatening to short-circuit every rational thought.

Matching the vibe? What fucking vibe?

He’s fifty percent convinced he blacked out an entire conversation, fifty percent convinced he’s losing his mind, and one hundred percent determined to never, ever let you see him sweat.

"Well," Sukuna starts, slowly turning his head to look at you once again. He tries for a calm, confident smirk, though tension flickers around his eyes as he searches your face for a single crumb of a clue. "I mean, that depends on what you wanna wear, doesn't it?"

"Kuna, come on, don't do that," you giggle softly, shaking your head. "You picked the place, so you set the dress code. Are we doing fancy, or should I just throw on something cute and simple?"

The trap snaps shut. Sukuna's mind spirals into absolute chaos, running at a million miles an hour. Say it’s fancy, and he’s doomed if he picked somewhere casual. Say it’s casual, and you show up underdressed for some high-end place he apparently reserved weeks ago, and he’s a dead man. Honestly, he’s a dead man either way if he really did promise you something special, because he can’t remember making a single reservation at all.

If there’s not a bead of sweat rolling down his neck, there should be. For a split second, his composure cracks, his brow furrowing in silent distress, before he clears his throat and reaches across the gap with his large hand, grabbing your ankles and tugging your legs off the cushion, draping them over his thick thighs.

"You look good in anything, angel," he purrs, leaning forward to rest his hand on your knee, thumb rubbing lazy circles—anything to distract you and buy himself five more seconds. He flashes a crooked grin. "Just pick something you like, and I'll match."

"Mmm, okay," you hum, sinking back into the plush cushions and tapping your chin in mock-deep thought. "I just hope we don't end up waiting as long as last time. The food was worth it, but that line almost killed me."

Sukuna freezes entirely, his breath slipping out in a slow, silent exhale that feels almost painful to watch.

We've been there before, great food, long line... What fucking place had a line we actually waited in?

His mind frantically scrolls through every date night from the last two years: sushi bars, steak houses, taco trucks, upscale Italian, late-night ramen, trying to pin down which one he supposedly promised you just days ago. His massive shoulders tense as he sits up straighter, the effort so intense you can almost feel the heat radiating off him.

I must’ve promised only a few days ago. How the fuck did I forget?

"Line won't be a problem tonight," he lies through his teeth, his voice dropping into a low rumble as his hand slides up to squeeze your thigh. "Took care of it."

"Oh, you made a reservation this time?" you ask, looking up at him from your seat with wide, bright eyes. "Didn't think they did those on weekends! How'd you pull that off?"

Sukuna freezes mid-motion, the smallest flicker of surprise widening his eyes before he clamps down on it, jaw going rigid.

No reservations on weekends? Great. Backed myself into a fucking corner now. What the fuck am I supposed to say after that?

This is it—the absolute limit of human endurance. Balanced on a conversational tightrope stretched over a pit of fire, he’s surrounded by conflicting clues, unable to commit to a single outfit or restaurant. There he sits, a giant, terrifying man held hostage by an imaginary date night, looking for all the world like he’s trying to solve advanced physics in his head.

He fixes you with a stare, maintaining that arrogant smirk through an absolutely heroic amount of concentration, determined to bluff his way straight into the grave if he has to.

"I’ve got my ways, brat," he rumbles, sliding his hand around your wrist and pulling you gently closer, leaning in at the same time and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead—one last desperate distraction.

"I'm just excited, you know? You're so sweet to plan this out of nowhere, Kuna," you chirp sweetly, holding back a laugh. You beam at him, swinging your feet like you can barely contain your glee, letting your voice turn all sing-song and syrupy just to watch him squirm.

Looking down at your smiling, innocent face, Sukuna's massive ego crumbles for a split second under the weight of the mystery.

"Wait—what time did you book it for?" you ask before he thinks of an answer to your praise, looking up at him expectantly as you pull back to lean against the cushions again. "I know it’s tonight, but you never said when—are you trying to make me late on purpose? How much time do I actually have to look cute?”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. For a horrifying half-second, he freezes—lips parted, eyes darting from the clock on his monitor to the floor, then back to your face. His mind is utterly, completely blank—not a single coherent thought.

Think. Dinner. Six? Seven? Eight? What time sounds normal?

"You don't remember?" you ask softly, tilting your head just a little as you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, the tiniest smile threatening to betray you.

"I remember!" Sukuna snaps a little too fast, his voice cracking with a rare, desperate edge before he quickly clears his throat to cover it. He shifts in his gaming chair, his jaw working as his eyes widen in full-blown panic.

Pick a number. Any fucking number.

"Of course I remember, woman. It's... It's in my phone—set a reminder and everything. Who do you take me for? 7."

"Right," you say, trying not to laugh at the thought of Sukuna actually fussing with a calendar app.

"Now quit grilling me and go get ready before you start worrying we're gonna be late."

Looking up at his face, you catch the tiny, panicked tension around his eyes despite that confident smirk. Unable to resist, you decide to drag it out just a little longer, savoring every second of his internal panic.

You tilt your head, looking at him from your chair. "You're driving us, right? Or are we taking an uber?"

"I'm driving," Sukuna says instantly, the answer automatic as he clutches at the first scrap of control he can find before his own brain has a chance to second-guess it.

"You remember how to get there, right?"

"Yeah," he grumbles, rolling his shoulders as he shoots you a sharp, warning look. "Of course I do."

"Good," you chirp with an easy smile. "I completely forgot the street name. What was it again?"

Nothing. I have nothing... This is it. I'm dead.

Silence instantly smothers the room. Sukuna’s entire body goes rigid, every muscle locked, and the arrogant smirk vanishes. His eyes go wide, locked onto yours in pure, unfiltered, deer-in-the-headlights terror. Not a word escapes him—there’s no way in hell he could even guess a street. He just sits there, trapped in a corner of his own making, paralyzed by the sudden realization that he’s completely, thoroughly backed into a wall.

Letting it stretch for ten long, glorious seconds, you watch his brain fry in real time. Then, a sharp, hysterical giggle bursts out of you, shoulders shaking violently as you bury your face in both hands, wheezing for air.

"I know there's no reservation, Kuna," you manage through laughter, shaking your head. "I know there's no date."

Sukuna blinks once, then again. For a moment, it’s like his brain can’t quite process the words, and then relief crashes over him so hard it nearly knocks him flat. The tension drains from his massive frame all at once, leaving him slumped boneless against the back of his chair.

A long, heavy exhale escapes him as he drags a hand down his face, wiping away the real sweat of the last ten minutes. He sits there, utterly defeated, looking like he just barely survived a war zone. There's not even enough strength left in him to pretend to be angry; every bit of mental energy got burned up trying to solve an imaginary puzzle.

"Jesus christ," he mutters into his palm, his voice a rough, exhausted rumble.

His hand drops, and he glances over at you, taking in the way you’re sitting there, absolutely delighted with yourself. Shaking his head, he lets a slow, helpless grin tug at the corner of his mouth, exhaustion still written all over his face.

"Yeah, well," Sukuna rasps, his eyes softening as he gently shoves your ankles from his legs, then reaches out and wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you up and into his lap. "We can still go on one."

You tilt your head, settling sideways across his thick thighs with a curious smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he sighs, arms locking around your waist as he buries his face in your hair, slumping back into his chair. "I'll take you for that pasta you love so much, you menace."

"Oh, you're down bad, Kuna," you tease, grinning as you tug him down for a kiss, your fingers threading into his hair at the back of his head.

"I was sitting here trying to remember if I'd booked a fucking table in my sleep, you know?" he rasps, his breath fanning across your cheek as his lips brush yours, the low rumble of a laugh vibrating through his chest.

"You really were trying so hard to play it cool," you murmur, nudging his cheek with your nose.

"I was cool the whole time," Sukuna protests, but the lopsided grin stretching across his face gives him away as he squeezes your waist.

You smile up at him, fingers tracing a slow, absentminded line along his jaw. "So what exactly was your plan, then?"

He blinks, looking genuinely lost for a second. "Huh?"

"If I'd actually gone to get dressed... then what?" you ask, tilting your head.

Sukuna just stares at you for a long moment, his brows drawing together in mock concentration before another helpless laugh escapes him as he shakes his head in defeat.

"No idea." He snorts, raking a hand through his hair as he shakes his head. "I figured I'd think of something in the car."

You burst out laughing again, swatting his shoulder as you double over, nearly collapsing into his chest. "You seriously think that would've worked?"

"I was very committed to making it work," he answers, trying to look serious, but his eyes are bright with laughter.

Before you can get another word in, he leans forward and peppers your cheeks and neck with a relentless barrage of rough kisses until you're laughing too hard to fight him off, your hands doing little more than getting in the way.

Finally, he sets you back on your feet, steadying you with a firm grip on your waist before pushing himself up out of the chair. "Now go get dressed, brat."

 

a/n: @i-luv-mangos thanks for the idea <3

domestic sukuna masterlist

[luvgam3]

𐔌true form Sukuna letting his girlfriend try her new nail polish on him 𐦯

The bedside lamp flickers, the pale yellow glow washing over you as you shake a nail polish bottle, tapping it against your palm as you sit back against Sukuna. His broad chest is warm, two of his hands resting against your thighs. “Okay, let me see.” You hum, taking one of his large palms in your much smaller one. You gently brush a pale pink polish onto one of his nails, chewing on your lip when it comes out streaky.

“What a waste.” You mumble, rolling his digit back and forth to see how the light catches the blotchy polish.

Sukuna pears over your head, brows furrowed in confusion. “Looks fine to me.” He mutters, tone bored as he watches the way you add a second coat.

You tilt your head back to meet his eyes,“It’s not opaque enough.” You clarify. “I spent good money on this.” You hear Sukuna scoff, his chest rumbling against your back. “I paid good money on this.” He corrects.

You wave you hand, rolling your eyes dramatically before taking his hand once more. “Whatever, the nail polish was bought with someone’s money.”

You’re so frustrating to him in the smallest ways, he thinks. You feel his other arms tighten around you, swallowing you up in a wall of muscle. “Don’t be a brat, you’re lucky I’m even letting you do this.” But you can feel the mouth on stomach grin, lips pressing against the small of your back as you begin to paint his second nail. “Yeah yeah.” You huff, a small smile of your own pulling at your lips.

[kenpisces]

⤷ ゛sukuna desperately trying to get the hot lifeguard’s attention using his nephew yuuji. you, the lifeguard, are not very impressed. ˎˊ˗

the sun was a merciless bastard, baking the sand until it shimmered. you, perched high on your lifeguard stand, were the only relief in sight. sunglasses perched on your nose, whistle glinting, you were the undisputed ruler of this stretch of beach and sukuna, sprawled on a towel like a lazy lion, was utterly captivated.

he’d been watching you for an hour. the way you scanned the water, the authoritative tilt of your head, the way your sun-kissed skin looked in that red swimsuit. he needed to have you. but you were a quite literally blind to his want and every attempt to get your attention had failed.

“oi, brat,” he grunted, nudging the pink-haired teenager next to him with a foot. yuuji, who had been happily building a rather lopsided sandcastle, looked up, sand clinging to his nose.

“what, uncle sukuna?” yuuji asked, squinting.

“see that lifeguard?” sukuna didn’t point, just jerked his chin in your direction. “i need her to notice me.”

yuuji blinked. “so… go talk to her?”

“don’t be a simpleton,” sukuna scoffed. “she’s too focused on her job. we need to create a distraction. maybe an emergency.”

yuuji’s eyes widened, immediately darting to the calm ocean. “a real one? is someone drowning?”

“no, you imbecile. a fake one.” sukuna’s eyes glinted with a terrible plan. “you. you’re going to pretend to drown.”

yuuji’s face fell. “what? no! that’s mean! and what if i actually get in trouble?”

“you won’t,” sukuna said, his voice brooking no argument. “it’s shallow. just flail around a bit. act pathetic. it’s your specialty.”

“it is not my specialty!” yuuji protested, but sukuna had already grabbed him by the back of his swim trunks and was dragging him toward the water.

“just do it, you little shit. or i’ll tell your mother about the time you tried to use her good kimono as a cape.”

yuuji groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat. “fine! but you owe me. like, a lot of ice cream.”

he waded into the water, looking back with a look of pure, theatrical dread. then, with a sigh that could be heard from the shore, he started flailing his arms and yelling in the most unconvincing way possible. “oh no! help! i am… drowning! augh! water!”

sukuna watched, ignoring the urge to cover his face with secondhand embarrassment eating him alive, in favour of waiting for you. but you didn’t move much, leaned forward in your seat and when you saw yuuji standing and then deliberately falling in, you just gave a slow, irritated shake of your head, and went back to scanning the horizon. your expression was clear: nice try, kid.

sukuna couldn’t even blame you.

“useless,” sukuna snarled under his breath. yuuji stopped flailing, a look of utter humiliation on his face as he walked back to the shore, dripping and defeated.

“she didn’t buy it!” yuuji whined.

“gee i wonder why,” sukuna deadpanned as he slapped the back of yuuji’s head. he walked over to the edge of the water where yuuji stood, then, without a word, he shoved his nephew squarely in the chest. yuuji, caught completely off guard, toppled backward with a surprised squawk and a dramatic splash, landing in a shallow dip that was, admittedly, just a little deeper than he was tall.

“hey!” yuuji’s head broke the surface, coughing and sputtering for real this time, his eyes wide with genuine panic. “what was that for?!”

but sukuna was already looking up at your stand, a smug, expectant grin on his face. now, he thought. now she has to come.

he saw you sigh with profound annoyance written on your face. you slid down the side of your stand and began walking toward the water. sukuna’s heart did a triumphant little flip. finally.

you strode past him, not even sparing him a glance. you walked straight into the water, up to your waist, and hooked a strong arm around confused yuuji and guided him back to shore.

as you deposited him safely on the sand, you finally turned to sukuna, your gaze sharp and icy. you leaned in, the smell of coconut sunscreen and salt water filling his senses, making him feel dizzy for a reason that had nothing to do with the sun. his plan was working… wasn’t it?

“did you just seriously push him in?” you asked, your voice even.

sukuna’s grin only widened. he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble. “i just wanted to get your attention. you’re a very hard woman to distract.”

“i’m a lifeguard,” you said flatly. “it’s my job to see through bullshit.”

“then you must see i’m serious,” sukuna said, his red eyes locked on yours. “the kid’s fine. i wouldn’t actually hurt him.” he offered a dismissive wave at yuuji, who was currently trying to cough up a lung on the sand behind them. “he’s tougher than he looks. the point is, i got you down here. and since you’re here, how about we skip the near-drowning and you just let me take you out for a drink?”

you stared at him, a storm of irritation swirling in your eyes. your lips pressed into a thin line.

“you are an ass,” you said, poking a finger into the center of his chest. sukuna resisted the urge to grip your wrist in his hand.

sukuna’s grin was utterly insufferable. “and you’re hot. so, what do you say?”

yuuji, finally recovered, scrambled to his feet. “uncle sukuna! i’m telling mom you tried to drown me!”

“shut up, yuuji,” sukuna said without looking away from you. “can’t you see i’m in the middle of something?”

you crossed your arms, your gaze flickering from his arrogant smirk to yuuji’s indignant, pouty face.

“you guys look weirdly identical.”

“no, he’s uglier.” “no, he’s uglier!” yuuji and sukuna both say in unison.

a small, reluctant smile finally tugged at the corner of your lips. you shook your head, the fight draining out of you. yes, he was an absolute menace, but he was also, infuriatingly, very, very charming. he’s been told so many times.

“one drink,” you said, holding up a finger. “and if you try to drown anyone else to get my attention, i’m having you banned from the beach. permanently.”

sukuna’s smile was triumphant. “agreed. i only need one chance.” he glanced over at yuuji. “see, kid? patience is a virtue.”

“you pushed me into the water!” yuuji yelled.

“whatever, loser,” he turned back to you, his expression softening into something almost genuine. “what’s your name, pretty?”

you told him, along with your number, and then you walked back to your stand, the whistle swinging against your chest. sukuna watched you go, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. he’d gotten what he wanted, after all.

[sveraia]

you hit different

PREMISE : sukuna ryomen is the university's undefeated boxing star, but his reputation might cost him the career he's been fighting for. you’re just a student trying to write the article that could make your name, until he offers you a deal : fake date him.

he gets the image he needs. you get the story of a lifetime.

it's supposed to be temporary. just an arrangement. just for appearances. but when the season ends and the cameras are gone... what happens when they have to figure out what's real?

PAIRING : boxing!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

GENRES / TAGS / WARNINGS : modern college au, athlete!sukuna, boxer!sukuna, fake dating, senior sukuna, slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, angst, smut, lots of jealousy, mutual pining, smau with written chapters, emotionally constipated sukuna, reader who talks back, competitive tension, campus drama main masterlist

episode 1 : the assignment episode 2 : full access episode 3 : first impressions episode 4 : the offer episode 5 : terms & conditions episode 6 : rumor has it episode 7 : collateral damage episode 8 : plus one episode 9 : front row seats episode 10 : after the bell episode 11 : drafts and deadlines episode 12 : on the house episode 13 : unexpected detour episode 14 : added company more to come!

a/n : taglist is open !

[sukunahs]

alpine divorce | ryomen sukuna

pairing: mountaineer!sukuna x reader

summary: when your boyfriend abandons you on the side of a mountain you find solace in the form of a pink-haired mountaineer who comes to your rescue

word count: 11k

content: 18+ mdni, smut, modern au, mountaineering/hiking, reader is dating naoya :(, abusive bf, misogyny, injury, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, cheating (kind of? reader's relationship with naoya is essentially done), semi-public sex (in a tent), piv, fingering, soft!sukuna

a/n: thinking about this scenario was the only thing that got me through my own miserable mountain experience and food poisoning last week :(

You’d joined the mountaineering club out of a desire to connect more with your boyfriend. 

He was an experienced mountaineer - the type of person who’d been climbing peaks with his family since he was a kid, and you’d thought he’d be happy to be able to go on those adventures with you. You’d figured it could be one of those interests that you shared. Something you could do together. 

Dismissal had been the emotion you’d been met with when you first told him you’d joined. It had been a scoff paired with an off-handed statement about how you weren’t cut out for all that. 

Maybe, if you’d had more sense, you would’ve broken up with Naoya in that moment and saved yourself a whole lot of trouble. Instead, just like always, you made excuses for him. You figured he was just having a bad day - that you just needed to prove yourself to him and then he’d be happy to have you as a climbing buddy. 

He was just concerned about your skill. That was all. 

So you’d worked hard at the club - learned plenty of skills, did plenty of hours in the gym, made dozens of friends with the other club members to ensure you weren’t dependent on Naoya to teach you everything. 

You tried to ignore how uninterested your boyfriend seemed in your progress, tried to ignore the way he’d flirt with the other women at the club - you were sure he’d be so impressed with you on your first major outing to Mount Hotaka that he’d forget about everything else and be pleased with you for once. 

That was all you wanted, for him to be proud of you outside of the offhanded thanks he’d give whenever you’d make him dinner. 

Your first trip out to the mountain had several people in attendance. Beyond you and Naoya there were a handful of women from the club who you’d grown close with: Shoko, Utahime and Yuki, and then a few men. There were a couple of older guys you didn’t know very well, and then a few in your age range who had been helping develop your skills - the most notable of that group being Sukuna, who had dedicated lots of time to teaching you knowledge that Naoya had brushed aside. 

It had surprised you at first, that the hulking pink-haired man had any interest in helping you do anything. Others in the club had claimed that he tended to be aloof, harsh and generally unfriendly - and while he was harsh in his teachings, unfriendly was certainly not the word you’d use to describe him. 

He’d gone out of his way to help you, chasing away others like Satoru with the claim that they were ‘too stupid to teach you right’. Spending hours at your side, he’d taught you all you needed to know about equipment, rope skills and climbing. He wouldn’t provide praise unless it was deserved, but once you’d finally started getting things right he’d always made sure you knew he was pleased with you. 

It was praise you were desperately starved for, praise you’d love to receive from your boyfriend, and you were ashamed to admit that Sukuna’s simple compliments lingered in your mind for longer than they should have.

You’d grown rather fond of him since joining the mountaineering club, even despite his somewhat prickly demeanour to everyone else, you felt he was someone you could rely on, someone who wouldn’t call you stupid for asking him questions. Even if he’d sometimes tease you for getting upset or frustrated for not understanding something, he’d still take the time to help you understand. 

Unlike Naoya, who would roll his eyes and once again point out how unfit you were for something as involved as mountain climbing. 

The comparison between the two was something you found yourself making more and more often, eyes straying over to your pink-haired friend when he wasn’t looking, your stomach flipping when he’d speak to you, or when he’d place a large hand on your shoulder in congratulations at a task done well. 

You knew it was wrong, chastising yourself whenever the thought of Sukuna would stray into your mind late at night while Naoya was snoring away next to you. Not only did you have a boyfriend, but you were certain Sukuna didn’t think of you in anything beyond a friendly manner anyway.

So you kept those feelings locked deep within your chest and tried to focus on why you were in the club in the first place - to prove to your boyfriend that you’d make a good partner for his mountain expeditions, to prove that you were worth more to him than being a glorified maid in his house.

The first few hours of the hike, starting in the early morning, had gone by fairly uneventfully. Your training had paid off and your legs felt good as you winded up through valleys and fields, trailing a little behind the group of boys, favouring a slightly slower pace and jovial conversation amongst the girls. 

Despite Naoya’s reluctance for you to join the club, you felt like it was where you were supposed to be. You loved being out in nature - taking in the fresh air and drinking from mountain streams, wandering along with like-minded people and encouraging each other along through the gruelling uphills. 

It wasn’t until late afternoon that things started to get more difficult, with the altitude creeping steadily up, and the group stumbling across snow fields that still hadn’t melted in the late spring air. It was nothing you weren’t prepared for, but with everyone feeling a great deal more tired than they had in the morning hours, the pace slowed considerably. 

A group of the more experienced men ended up going on ahead at a quicker pace, saying they’d get the next big section of uphill completed and scout out a good camping spot for the night, since the plan was to make a summit push in the early morning to watch the sunrise. 

You didn’t mind that so much - you didn’t like the feeling of slowing them down and that arrangement meant that you could keep going at a comfortable pace without feeling stressed about it. The girls you were with were perfectly experienced in their own right, and Naoya had chosen to hang behind with you anyway rather than going on ahead. 

That was a decision that you’d convinced yourself was on account of him wanting to keep an eye on you, but a part of you believed it was really because he didn’t get along with any of the men at the club. 

Or perhaps it was just so he could keep staring at Yuki’s ass like he had been for the entire hike up to that point. 

The next couple of hours were difficult, and everyone grew more withdrawn under the effort of a constant uphill - facing switchback after switchback with no clarity on how far you had to go beneath a freshly settled blanket of fog lowering the visibility. Shoko had been struggling for a while, and after an extended rest on a rock decided that it was best if she turned back and camped somewhere lower in the valley. 

She’d been having issues with her lungs and didn’t think it was wise to keep going. 

At her decision, Utahime also suggested that she wanted to go back, mentioning that she also didn’t feel in the best physical condition, and Yuki insisted on going back with the two of them to make sure they got back down safely. You’d considered joining them, but you were still feeling good both physically and mentally and were keen to continue upwards towards the peak. 

Considering Naoya’s experience, you were certain that the two of you would be fine even without the girls, so you waved them off and continued upwards into the mist, eager to reconnect with the other half of your group and get settled with Naoya in the tent for the night. 

—

Sukuna had found a pretty good camping spot. He was pretty sure it was in a similar position to where he’d set up on his solo winter ascent a couple of years before - a location that should be downright comfy in the mild spring weather. 

Assuming that weather stayed mild. 

It was hard to tell through all the fog, but he was almost sure he could see dark clouds rolling high in the sky. He hoped he was wrong. There hadn’t been a storm on the forecast, and if one was to roll in that could make for a very harrowing evening, especially for people like you who’d had little experience of the mountains. 

He hoped one bad night wouldn’t be enough to put you off entirely. 

“Yuki just radioed.” Satoru called out to him. “She, Shoko and Utahime are all going back down. The others are still coming I think.” 

Sukuna hummed in affirmation as he moved to set up his tent. He wished it could’ve just been you coming up, rather than you and your shithead boyfriend, but he supposed he’d rather you have a buddy in the mountains than be out there alone. If he’d had things his way, he would’ve hung back with you for the whole duration of the hike, but he didn’t need people casting suspicions on his actions. 

He’d already received some strange looks over his eagerness to teach you - the last thing he needed was the rumor mill in full operation. 

Even if the rumor mill was right in this case. 

He liked you. He really liked you. 

Feelings that he needed to keep to himself, because your boyfriend was one jealous asshole, and he was almost confident that any sign of flirting on Sukuna’s part would have Naoya taking out his anger and jealousy on you, which was the last thing he wanted. He wasn’t sure what you saw in that guy, but god, Sukuna wanted to bash his teeth in. 

He’d been watching it for months now - the depressing life you lived in which you’d excitedly bound over to Naoya to show him something you’d learned only for him to react with total disregard. Sukuna had watched the light in your eyes flicker and die each time, doing his best to control the rage boiling in his chest. 

You deserved better than that fucker. 

But he got the sense that you weren’t able to see that. 

Almost everyone had set up their tents, laughing and joking and tearing into provisions by the time Naoya appeared from the mist. A couple of hours had passed since the group first found the camping spot, and Satoru welcomed him enthusiastically as he stepped into the clearing. He looked surprisingly exhausted for a man who was supposed to be experienced. 

Sukuna’s red eyes scanned the fog, waiting for you to appear behind the man. His chest squeezed when only silence followed, no sign of your presence in the mist. 

“Is it only you?” Satoru asked, voicing the very question that was on the tip of Sukuna’s tongue. 

“Yeah, the girls went down,” Naoya responded nonchalantly, shrugging off his backpack. “Is there a good place for me to set up?” Satoru’s lips parted, as if to question the man’s statement, considering Yuki had relayed specific names, but he clearly thought better of it, nodding and pointing Naoya in the direction of a clear patch of dirt for him to pitch his tent. 

Sukuna wasn’t so happy to shrug it off. 

“Yuki only said she was going down with Utahime and Shoko,” he called out to Naoya. The man turned to look at him, irritation shining in his amber eyes. Sukuna was well aware that Naoya despised him just as much as he despised Naoya. 

“They all went. Think I don’t know where my own girlfriend is?” Naoya snapped. 

Sukuna stared him down for a moment before leaving him be, heading over to Satoru and asking for the radio. Speaking into it, he called out for Yuki, praying that they were still within a reasonable range to pick up his voice. 

He was met with only silence, cursing under his breath at the realisation that they were probably all the way back in the valley by that point and likely impossible to reach. His crimson gaze fell to Naoya once more, watching him hum as he set up his tent without a care in the world. 

Something in the pit of Sukuna’s stomach told him that there was something wrong. You hadn’t gone back with Yuki. You’d been so happy all day, so excited about your first major peak. Not only that, but you’d been in good condition - he’d been watching you whenever he could, he’d been proud at how well you were doing. 

You wouldn’t have turned back. And if you had, Yuki would’ve listed your name when she was heading down. Yuki was no newcomer to the mountains - she was responsible and experienced and she always emphasised the importance of good communications. And if you’d have turned back any later, Naoya should’ve gone with you - it's what any sensible person would’ve done. 

But he was here, and you weren’t. And you hadn’t gone with Yuki. So you were alone. 

Sukuna’s first instinct was to bash Naoya’s head in. He wanted to walk over there and silence that bastard’s humming with a well placed rock to the head. What kind of a man - an experienced mountaineer, no less - would abandon their inexperienced girlfriend on the side of a mountain? 

It wasn’t like Sukuna doubted your ability. He’d taught you all you needed to know, but putting those things into practice alone, at altitude, and in adverse weather was a whole other thing. 

Instead of doing anything about Naoya, he parked that issue temporarily and quickly moved to dismantle his own tent. He wasn’t going to sit there and do nothing while your location was unaccounted for. Even if you had gone down shortly after Yuki, even if you’d made it back to the valley by yourself, he wasn’t going to roll the dice on your life. 

He’d go back the way they’d come and he’d walk until he found you - even if that happened to be safe and sound at the bottom of the mountain. 

“What’re you doing?” Satoru asked, hovering as Sukuna put his stuff back into his pack. Naoya had stopped to watch, a sneer on his already ugly face. 

“I don’t think she went down with Yuki. I need to make sure the boyfriend of the year over there didn’t leave her in some bad situation,” Sukuna explained.

“Oh my god, she’s fine.” Naoya snapped from across the campsite. “Yuki just misspoke, she went down with them. Why is it your problem anyway? It's not like she’s your girlfriend.” 

The defensive edge to the man’s voice told Sukuna all he needed to know, and he ignored the jabs in favour of packing up more quickly. He didn’t want it to get too dark - if something bad had happened and you didn’t have your headlamp on it would be impossible to find you at night. 

Unfortunately, Naoya seemed to have no interest in letting up. “I mean seriously? You’re actually doing this? I know you wanna fuck her but she’s always been a loyal little thing - she ain’t gonna put out for you because of this. I think she’s realised that she isn’t cut out for this type of shit - she went back down to safety with the rest of the girls and I think she’ll probably quit the club. She can get back to what she’s good at.” 

Sukuna’s hands stilled as he zipped his bag shut, his expression calm as he finally looked at the man before him. There was malice in his expression and a clear, guilty desire to keep Sukuna from trekking back down the mountain path. 

“‘She can get back to what she’s good at’?” Sukuna asked, drawing himself up to his full height. “And what would that be?” 

The smug grin Naoya shot him was sickening. “Making me dinner.” 

Sukuna laughed, a deep unpleasant sound rumbling from his chest. “Right.” He took a step forward, towering over your boyfriend who he deeply hoped would be your ex-boyfriend after that expedition. Before Naoya could react, Sukuna grabbed him by the front of his raincoat. “Listen. I’m going back down that path. If I find her out there, abandoned and alone, be assured that I’ll beat you so badly that you’ll never climb another mountain again. Do you understand me?” 

Fear flickered in Naoya’s amber eyes, but he pushed it down quickly, replacing it with a scowl. “Get the fuck off me.” 

Sukuna let him go, revelling in the way he stumbled about off balance, barely keeping himself from careening onto the floor. If he was being honest with himself, the desire to enact justice on Naoya in that moment was tempting, but he could wait. Every moment he spent in that camp was another moment of peril for you. 

And unlike Naoya, he wouldn’t leave you to a night alone on a mountain. 

—

You weren’t sure when you’d lost Naoya. 

He’d been picking up the pace significantly while you’d been getting slower and slower, and despite calling out for him to wait for you to catch up, eventually he just disappeared off into the fog - the sound of his footsteps fading entirely. 

It had left you at a loss, unsure as to whether you should keep going or turn back. You were certain that the summit camp probably wasn’t too far off, but you had no real idea of how far that distance might actually be, and had a vague concern that you might take a wrong turn in the ever-thickening fog, leaving you stranded for the night. You and Naoya were sharing a tent which he’d been carrying, and subsequently ending up alone for the evening wasn’t ideal for you. 

The most you’d be able to do is wrap yourself in your sleeping bag and find a sheltered place to hunker down for the night. 

But it shouldn’t come to that. 

Getting down to the valley would take too long, and you weren’t sure where Yuki and the gang would’ve settled anyway. Naoya had the radio. He had everything really, which meant that the only thing you could do was continue upwards and hope that you stumbled across the other half of your group. 

It was a plan that was going okay until you’d carelessly stepped on a loose rock, sending you tumbling back down a hill of scree you’d spent the past half an hour climbing. 

At first you’d thought only your morale was damaged, your mind exhausted at the prospect of having to get back up and reascend a slope you’d already climbed once. But as you struggled to get to your feet, you realised that it wasn’t only your mind that had undergone damage.

A hot pain spread through your ankle as you tried to stand, sending you straight back down to the floor with a yelp. Panic instantly overcame you, the sudden realisation of where you were hitting you like a tonne of bricks. Naoya, your boyfriend, had abandoned you on the side of a mountain. He’d left you in the fog, beneath the setting sun, without a tent and without a radio. And now you were injured.

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve said he was actively trying to kill you. 

But what was more likely was that he was just proving the point he’d been trying to make all along - that you weren’t cut out for the life of a mountaineer. 

And considering your condition, could you really disagree with him? 

Soft sobs overtook you, and you began to spiral. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, shivering as the cold grew more intense, mumbling incoherently to yourself about how you should’ve gone back down to the valley with Yuki. 

Perhaps you never should’ve tried facing the mountains in the first place. 

Maybe Naoya was right. 

They were thoughts that fled from your mind at the blessed sight of a headlamp cutting through the fog from above, footsteps crunching evenly on scree, picking up in speed the moment the light shone upon your sorry figure huddled on the ground. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” Sukuna’s voice had a tremor of relief shooting through you, and more tears swelled at the corners of your eyes. He was crouching down in front of you, expression laden with concern as he scanned your cowering form. One of his hands reached for your face, wiping away tears carefully while he waited for you to answer him. 

“My ankle…” You mumbled. Everything was too overwhelming for you to articulate any further, your words already coming out all choked and shaky. Sukuna didn’t need to hear any more, attention instantly shifting to your foot. His hands moved to prod gently at it, watching your face for a grimace which came quickly under his touch. 

“Does that hurt?” 

You nodded. He bit down on his lip and quickly moved to untie the lace of your boot. A soft whimper left your lips as he pulled it from your foot, but he was right to pay your reaction no mind since you were overcome with relief once your ankle was freed from those rigid confines pressing down too tightly upon it. 

It had swollen up significantly in the time you’d been sitting there waiting for someone to come for you. 

“Right. I’ll deal with the ankle soon but I want to get us to someplace better first before it gets fully dark.” It was only just occurring to you that the wind had started to pick up a little, your clothes ruffled by air rushing against you. It would be best to be in a less exposed place - Sukuna had taught you that exposure made all the difference when dealing with bad weather.

“There was a plateau back down at the bottom of this slope,” you mumbled, remembering the slight respite you’d had from the seemingly neverending onslaught of uphill.

Sukuna gave you a proud smile and it made your heart flutter. “Yeah, that would work. I’m gonna carry you down there, if that’s okay? I don’t think you should try walking on that ankle until we give it a proper look.” 

You wanted to collapse into fresh tears at the suggestion. While your boyfriend, the person who was supposed to look after you, had abandoned you on the side of your first big mountain, Sukuna was here offering to carry you to safety. The feeling his offer was giving you had a risk of overwhelming you entirely, utterly grateful that he was the person who’d come back to look for you. 

Naively, you wondered if Naoya had sent him down to look for you. It was a weak hope, a desperate, delusional belief that your boyfriend wasn’t as cruel as he truly was. 

“Yeah, that’s okay,” you said, quietly. You tried to ignore how pleasant it felt when Sukuna crouched down to scoop you up into his arms. His touch felt warm against your body which had grown cold over the past few hours of inactivity. The arms holding you were strong and secure, building a feeling of safety knowing he was there with you. 

Naoya would’ve taken issue with it, but you wished you’d asked Sukuna to stick with you throughout the whole trip. Things would’ve felt better if it was him you were relying on rather than your boyfriend. In his lessons he’d always emphasised the importance of matching your pace with a mountain buddy - always checking that they weren’t far behind. 

Rules that a supposedly experienced mountaineer like Naoya should’ve been well aware of. 

Sukuna strode down the rest of the hill with ease, keeping you tucked close against him in a princess carry. Considering that you had your pack still on your back you were surprised at how easy he made the whole thing look, because he wasn’t exactly carrying a light load between you in his arms and his own bag on his back. But he didn’t complain or demonstrate any signs of struggle. 

Outside of the fact that he was largely silent until you reached your destination. 

You didn’t mind that. It wasn’t like you were in the mood to talk either, your mind swimming with all kinds of things now that you were in safe hands. Naoya had left you behind to die. You could’ve died if no one had come back for you. Exposure could’ve gotten to you, or an animal, or some person with ill-intent prowling the mountainside. 

He’d left you helpless and defenceless. 

And, as rain started to drip from the sky above, you realised that if Sukuna hadn’t come for you, it would’ve been an evening out in the storm, at altitude, with nothing but your rain jacket and sleeping bag to huddle within. 

You could’ve died. 

Sukuna found a well sheltered area and placed you down while he set up the tent. You were in awe at how quickly he got it done - the same actions would’ve taken you three times the time it took his experienced hands to get it sorted. You were grateful for the speed, because it meant the two of you made it inside before the worst of the rain began to hammer down from the sky above. 

“Okay. First the ankle. Then everything else.” 

You tilted your head a little at his statement, not quite sure what he meant by everything else, but you assumed he was referring more to your mental condition and questions around how you’d ended up in your terrible position in the first place. You hoped he wouldn’t be mad at you for failing to make it up to the peak after how much time he’d spent teaching you things. 

You thought maybe he’d chastise you for things like not having your own tent or radio, but Naoya had been insistent about carrying those items for you, assuring you that he’d stick at your side and claiming his actions were out of a desire to keep your pack as light as possible. 

You were stupid to have believed him.

Sukuna knelt by your foot, removing your sock and inspecting the damage carefully. His fingers pressed delicately against the skin and you found yourself admiring his concentrated expression in the lamplight. “I don’t think it's broken,” he said. “Probably just twisted.” 

Reaching into his first aid kit, he found a bandage which he wrapped around the problem area, before pulling out an ice pack and snapping to activate its effects. He placed the pack down on your ankle, earning a little hiss from you which pulled a small smile from his otherwise serious face. 

He’d been really serious since he’d found you, his expression all irritated and stormy. 

Was he angry with you? Frustrated that he’d had to come back down the mountain to your aid? You didn’t like the idea of being his burden. 

“Endure the cold for a bit - it’ll make you feel much better.” he said, placing a warm hand on your calf. Your breath hitched involuntarily at the contact and Sukuna quickly withdrew from you, a tinge of guilt flickering across his handsome face. He instantly busied himself before you could question it, moving onto the next stage of tending to your injury.

He fumbled about in his pack and withdrew some clothing, bundling it up into a small pile and wedging it beneath your foot to elevate it a little. Nothing he was doing was particularly revolutionary - on the contrary, his actions were all things he’d taught you to do in the event of an injury. 

You’d just been too panicked to do anything on that scree slope. 

Perhaps he was mad at you for that too. 

Sukuna laid out his sleeping mat next to you, his nose wrinkling at the revelation that you didn’t have one because it was in Naoya’s possession. He slid his mat beneath you, keen not to have you lying on the floor, before pulling out his sleeping bag and sitting on top of that for some amount of comfort. 

“So, what happened?” Sukuna asked. His voice was a little clipped, as if he was holding himself back from saying what he really wanted to say. 

“I was rushing and lost my footing on some scree-”

“No. I mean, why are you alone?” 

“Oh.” You shrugged, taking a deep breath and avoiding his eyes. There was a sticky feeling building up in your throat, keeping your words down. If you said the truth aloud you were certain you’d burst into tears again. “I don’t know,” you mumbled finally. 

“You don’t know?” He echoed. 

“It just sort of happened. The girls went back down the mountain and Naoya kept going quicker and then we got separated somewhere in the fog. I imagine he was probably waiting somewhere up ahead for me but then I slipped.” You weren’t sure why you were trying to defend your boyfriend. You weren’t naive enough to truly believe he’d been waiting up ahead for you. 

He’d left you. 

But the idea of airing out just how stupid you were to be in that relationship in the first place felt humiliating. You wanted to at least pretend that Naoya didn’t leave you for dead - that you weren’t the fool who had stayed for years with an abusive boyfriend when you should’ve just left. 

You didn’t want Sukuna to think you were completely pathetic. 

“Naoya arrived at the camp hours ago,” Sukuna said, his tone detached, as if he wanted to avoid projecting any of his own emotion onto you. “He said you’d gone back down with the rest of the girls.” 

The horrified expression on your face must’ve said it all, because Sukuna’s impartiality quickly faded, rage burning within those crimson eyes. Naoya really had abandoned you. And not only that, he’d also attempted to sabotage any retrieval attempt that might be made for you. He’d outright claimed you were safe when he knew no such thing. 

It was a thought that made you sick, and once again the tears started to flow, dripping down your cheeks. You’d spent years with that man, feeling like you were less than good enough. You’d let him break you down, put up with his endless bullying and tormenting, all because he’d been sweet to you at the start. 

You’d always thought you weren’t good enough, always thought that it was your fault he was so unpleasant with you. 

Now it felt like your eyes were open for the first time. 

He’d left you on the side of a mountain. He couldn’t care less about your wellbeing. He couldn’t care less about you unless you were making him dinner. 

And you’d put up with it. 

You were a fool. 

“I knew that fucker was lying,” Sukuna hissed. “Yuki didn’t say your name when she radioed in to say she was heading back. She’s always good with that sort of thing. Fuck, I’m glad I came down to check, who knows what would’ve happened if-” 

He cut himself off, faltering before he could finish the sentence. It was clear that he didn’t want to scare or upset you further, not when you’d already reduced yourself to a puddle of tears. You didn’t want to imagine what fate the night would’ve brought if not for Sukuna arriving as your saviour. 

Falling silent, he shuffled a little closer to you. Reaching out delicately he began to wipe away your tears with his thumb. The touch of his skin against yours felt pleasant, and you found your sobs faltering at the new found comfort he was providing. A deeply loyal part of you urged you to pull away, reminding you of your boyfriend. You immediately pushed the thought aside. 

Naoya wasn’t your boyfriend. 

Not after what he’d done. 

“Don’t cry. You’re okay. I found you and we’ll make it through the night together. I’m not going anywhere.” Sukuna’s words were soothing, and you found yourself nodding between sniffles, your tears gradually drying up. You hadn’t realised you were shivering until Sukuna tentatively wrapped an arm around you, pulling you up and close to him. 

The storm had worsened outside, and you huddled down in your jacket, letting yourself lean into Sukuna’s chest to keep the shivering at bay. If this was how you felt inside a tent with another human to warm you, you hated to think how you would’ve felt still stuck all alone on the scree. 

It didn’t bear considering. 

“You should report that asshole to the police once we get down. Nothing will come of it because it's hard to prove intent, but this was an active attempt on your life. He had a duty of care he ignored, stripped you of shelter and then tried to prevent a rescue. I have half a mind to kill him myself.” Sukuna’s voice rumbled through his body. 

No one had ever really stood up for you before. Naoya was always good at being charming when it mattered. Your parents and the rest of your family had always seen him as a good prospect - a polite and handsome man from a well off family. With your friends, you’d done the damage on your own, always defending him, manipulated by him to act like the perfect picture of an abused girlfriend. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whispered. 

“What?” Sukuna asked, pulling back ever so slightly so he could look at you properly. You hadn’t spoken at all since the reveal, and your quiet words clearly caught him off guard. 

“I’ve wasted so much of my life with him. Spent so much time defending him like he was some good guy. I only joined this club to impress him and all he ever did was tell me how useless I was at stuff like this - at everything. Did you know that he spent most of this hike staring at Yuki’s ass? And yet, when I’d tell him about how much stuff you’d taught me he’d get all mad about me talking to another guy and verbally berate me until I cried. And I just let it all happen. You must think I’m an idiot.” 

Sukuna hesitated, searching for the right words. It made you smile in a twisted sort of way, because he was definitely trying to find something to say that wouldn’t indirectly call you stupid - an impossibility considering the circumstances. Now that your eyes were open you could finally see how foolish you’d been. 

You just wanted to go home. Forget mountaineering or anything else you’d tried in an attempt to bond with that asshole.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he said finally. “I think guys like that are very good at getting their way, and you happened to be his victim.” The words were uncannily gentle, and at a glance at Sukuna’s face you could tell he was out of his comfort zone, but trying his best. He tightened his grip on you as a sudden gust of wind battered the tent. 

The touch had your heart fluttering, and you wondered how Sukuna felt about your current position. It was probably just a necessity in his eyes - a bid to warm up a tired and stressed woman, nothing more than that. 

With your loyalty to Naoya stranded somewhere on the mountain never to be recovered, you found yourself wishing the contact was something more than that. 

But considering your woefully pathetic attempt at summiting this relatively easy peak, you doubted Sukuna held you in high regard at all. His type was probably some strong, confident girl who already knew all her outdoor skills without Sukuna’s input. The type of woman he could rely on to partner with for dangerous and difficult peaks. 

That wasn’t you. 

You weren’t sure you’d step foot on a mountain again after this. 

“Maybe you don’t think I’m an idiot for that, but you probably think I am for all this.” You gestured in the general direction of your foot, still humiliated at the thought of Sukuna having to rush down the mountain to your rescue, like you couldn’t be left unsupervised for a single moment without finding yourself in need of rescue. 

Much to your chagrin, Sukuna laughed. “An idiot for getting injured? No, that’s practically a rite of passage. You were doing great through most of the hike - I was keeping an eye on you before the group split in half. We’ll get you down the mountain and get your ankle sorted, and then you can try this peak again another time.” 

Sukuna’s optimism had butterflies swarming in your stomach, but years of insults and abuse weren’t so easily displaced. You lowered your gaze, staring down at your hands in your lap. “I don’t know. I just wonder if Naoya was right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.” 

Sukuna pulled a face, clearly displeased by that statement. 

“Do you like being in the mountains?” He asked simply. 

He made no statement on your skill, no attack on anything your boyfriend had told you. Asked nothing more than whether you liked being out in the fresh air, doing what you’d been doing before your ankle had been injured. 

And you did. 

You really did like it. 

“Yeah. I do.” 

“Then you are cut out for this. Enjoyment is literally the only requirement,” he said earnestly. “Besides, that guy’s full of shit. I taught you everything you needed to know and I have faith in your abilities. If you need to listen to someone else’s opinion to determine your value, how about you consider mine instead of his.” 

A flush appeared across your cheeks. Those were the kind of compliments Sukuna would always pay you. Nothing particularly special or flowery, but deeply genuine in a way that had your whole body bursting with pride, pushing the rot of Naoya’s insults from your veins and replacing it with Sukuna’s approval. 

“We’ll come back here together in a few weeks, just the two of us, and we’ll do this peak. I can promise you it’ll be better. I won’t abandon you in the fog.” You believed him, nodding a little in agreement. Even in your fragile mental state that evening, you couldn’t help the excited flip of your stomach at the thought of Sukuna wanting to do something alone with you. 

The mountaineering club had been a means for you to learn your skills to climb alone with Naoya. You hadn’t expected that it would leave you excited at the prospect of climbing with another man. 

Still, you tried not to get ahead of yourself. Your little crush on Sukuna, which had been present for several months more than you were really willing to admit, seemed to have finally found the freedom to really take over your thoughts. Your heart was practically in your throat at your current proximity to him, a desire coursing through your whole body. 

You needed to push it back down even with Naoya out of the picture, because you were certain Sukuna was just being friendly, just being a better person than Naoya was. You couldn’t afford to let your mind run wild with fantasies. 

At least, that’s what you’d told yourself. 

The two of you had sat in silence for a while after Sukuna’s offer of climbing alone together, still huddled together and listening to the wind and rain outside the tent. You found yourself calmed by the steady rhythm of Sukuna’s heartbeat, basking in the warmth of his body which took your mind off the cold compress burning at your ankle. 

“Do you mind if we share the sleeping mat? It's okay if not, but it would be warmer for you and more comfy for me that way.” Considering that the two of you had been cuddling for a while, you didn’t see the issue. Anything was fine in matters of survival and you were more than happy to remain close to Sukuna. 

“Yeah, sure. We can zip our sleeping bags together.” 

Sukuna’s lashes fluttered and you swore you could see a dusting of pink on his cheeks, but you were quick to disregard it. It had been a long and exhausting day, and you were likely just seeing what you wanted to see. 

The cold compress had started to lose its effect, and Sukuna removed it from your ankle while the two of you shuffled about to get ready for bed. Your ankle was feeling much better after a period of rest and elevation, and you found you could move it again without excruciating pain. Getting back down the mountain might still be an issue, but it was one you could leave to figure out in the morning. 

Zipping your sleeping bags together and settling down on the sleeping mat, Sukuna made space for you beside him. You had to half lay on him for you both to stay on the padding, but with how warm his body seemed to run, you really didn’t mind. He wrapped his arm around you, nestling you close against him under the guise of conserving space - an action that had your whole body thrumming with electricity. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt that way. For months, maybe even years, the only thing you’d felt under Naoya’s touch was mild dread. This was something nicer, something more exciting - a feeling you wanted to experience over and over again. 

“Warm enough?” Sukuna asked, giving you a reassuring squeeze. The tent was relatively cool, the fabric being battered by the storm outside, all of which seemed distant as you lay there in Sukuna’s grip. It was a safe and warm place to be, one where you could take your mind off troubles and anxieties knowing he was there to keep anything and everything at bay. 

Troubles which Naoya had actively brought upon your life, were effectively chased away by Sukuna. 

How you wished you’d met the pink-haired man earlier in your life. 

“Warm enough,” you echoed, your voice coming out muffled as you buried your face into his chest. 

Again, the two of you fell into comfortable silence, listening to the whistling of wind and basking in the feeling of your bodies pressed close together. You were half asleep and almost convinced that Sukuna was already asleep, when his deep voice cut through the darkness and silence. 

“I don’t usually go on these things, you know,” he confessed quietly. “This is my first one. I’m only in the club because it gives you connections for exhibition funding and learning new skills. Usually I do mountains solo and usually I do stuff much harder than this.” He waved his hand in the direction of the tent’s exit. 

A guilt blossomed in your gut at the speech, recalling similar words from your boyfriend when you’d brought up the trip. He’d said that climbs in the Japanese Alps outside of wintertime were nothing special, and that the whole thing would likely be so easy that he could do it in his sleep. He’d only agreed to go after you’d begged him, reminding him that you didn’t have the experience he did. 

“I’m only here because of you,” Sukuna continued. The guilt within you only grew sharper. Was Sukuna trying to imply that he was only present out of concern for your inexperience? Had you forced him along because he knew something like this would happen? Had he known he’d need to come to your rescue?

“Sorry. I must be such a burden,” you mumbled quietly, burying your face in your sleeping bag. 

Did Sukuna really want to commit to climbing alone with you knowing that you were so much less experienced than he was? Or was he just doing it because he felt bad for you? You were likely a pitiful sight with your messed up ankle and an abusive boyfriend who had abandoned you. 

Sukuna blinked rapidly, astute enough to swiftly connect the dots. “What? No, that’s not- I was trying to say something nice. I was saying I only came along because I enjoy spending time with you. I don’t like these group things and I prefer to do harder stuff but I’m here because you’re here, and I like you.” 

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears, completely drowning out the sound of any thoughts on how you were supposed to reply to that. You were too caught up on the word ‘like’, on the way Sukuna shifted ever so slightly against you, pulling you more firmly against his body. 

“What?” You asked, dumbly. 

“I like you,” he repeated. “I think you’re so cute and I love how happy you get whenever you learn something new and I’m so fucking exhausted of watching your boyfriend ignore you and take you for granted when I’d cherish you.” 

Again, your stomach flipped, your ears growing warm. 

“And when that fucker showed up at the top of the mountain without you, I wanted to kill him. When I found you all cold and alone on the slope I just- fuck. I want to keep you safe. I want to be the person who looks out for you, I want to take care of you in a way that guy seems unwilling to. He has no idea what he has- had, while I understand exactly what you’re worth. I want to take you to the mountains at my side because unlike him, I’d be thrilled to have you as my hiking partner.” 

Before you knew what was happening, you were crying again, wetting his clothes immediately with your tears. Your shoulders were shuddering and you could feel Sukuna’s heartrate picking up. It seemed like he was starting to panic - concerned that you were upset by his words when the reality was the total opposite. 

You’d never heard something so romantic from Naoya and you never would. To have someone speak such beautiful words to you felt surreal and your body had no idea how to react beyond sobbing from being so overwhelmed with love and affection. 

“Sorry,” Sukuna said quickly. “I know it's been a long day, now probably wasn’t the time to say anything. You don’t have to respond-”

He faltered as you peered up at him, your face wet with tears. He usually looked so confident, and even then there was still some atmosphere of certainty about him, but he couldn’t fully hide the glimmer of anxiety in his lovely red eyes. There was a fear of rejection buried within him, a fate that he seemed almost certain he was going to face. 

If only he could step into your shoes for a moment and feel all the emotion rushing over you at his confession

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t think of anything that would suffice as a response to his outpouring of desire. Instead you tilted your face upwards, lips parting softly in a clear signal - one that Sukuna caught onto immediately. He closed the gap swiftly, lips slotting perfectly against yours with a warmth you’d never experienced before. 

Naoya’s kiss had always been domineering - a wet and unpleasant experience. Sukuna’s kiss was gentle and exploratory. His lips took the time to appreciate yours, to linger on that lovely shared warmth and soak in the feeling of being connected so intimately for the first time. 

His tongue ran along your lips carefully, requesting for you to open your mouth. You complied easily, letting him hold you ever closer as his tongue pressed into yours, deepening the kiss in a way that felt so natural despite the fact that you’d never kissed each other before. 

A rumble of thunder overhead had the two of you parting for a second, and you found your shivering renewed as a particularly cold wind blew through the tent. Sukuna’s red eyes went to the entryway, the space illuminating for a second as another flash of lightning ripped through the sky above. His hands rubbed your back soothingly at a louder rumble overhead. 

“I’m so glad I came down to find you,” he whispered. 

“Thank you for coming to find me,” you mumbled, eyes fixed on his handsome face, your mind still struggling to catch up to all that had transpired in the past few minutes. Thoughts of Naoya and all the suffering he’d put you through seemed distant in the intimacy of that tent. “I feel so lucky. Injured ankle aside.” You giggled softly, heart jumping at the way Sukuna grinned back at you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. 

There was a gratefulness to his expression, a soft affection in his gaze which made you feel seen and special in a way you’d never felt with Naoya. It had you sinking deep into another kiss, your lips locked against his in a deeply intoxicating manner. All the stress and the anxiety of the day seemed to wash away beneath his grip. 

Even with the storm raging outside, you felt safe and warm with him there beside you.

You should’ve known about his feelings for you - should’ve understood the moment Yuki had made a comment about how Sukuna never usually spoke to anyone. He’d spent so much time on you, being so gentle in his teachings, making sure you knew what you were doing, making sure you were praised. 

He’d liked you from the start and you’d been too blind to see it. 

Too beaten down by your own experiences in relationships to believe that any affection directed towards you would be legitimate. 

You wished you could’ve puzzled it out sooner. You wished you could’ve noticed the soft look that always sparkled in Sukuna’s eyes whenever he looked at you. You wished you’d dumped Naoya several years ago, because it shouldn’t have taken an abandonment on the side of the mountain for you to realise how truly awful your ex-boyfriend was. 

But what was done was done. Sukuna’s hands were on you now, and that was all that mattered. You’d made it in the end, even if it had taken you a little longer to get there than you would’ve ideally liked. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered as the two of you broke apart for breath, red eyes scanning your face like he was committing your features to memory. “How Naoya could be so stupid, I have no idea.” 

“He’s not a smart man.” 

“No. He really isn’t.” Sukuna agreed. “But his loss is my gain.” 

You hummed, leaning against Sukuna’s chest once more, listening to his heartbeat beneath you. Despite the excitement, you were suddenly aware of how tired you were, and how much the cold was still seeping in through your clothes and down into your bones. Altitude was no joke, and the pleasant spring warmth was nowhere to be found on the mountainside that evening. 

“Are you still cold? You’re shivering.” It wasn’t possible for Sukuna to physically pull you closer to him than you already were, but he gave it an attempt all the same, practically crushing you in his grip. 

“A little, yeah.” 

“Shit. Once sec.” Moving away from you for a moment, he reached out of the sleeping bag and rummaged about in his bag, withdrawing his down jacket and draping it around your shoulders like an additional blanket. You were grateful for the added warmth, coccooned in between that and Sukuna’s warm body. 

For a few moments you lay there, your shivering finally subsiding, only for all the hairs on your neck to raise at the feeling of Sukuna’s voice vibrating against the top of your head. “There is another way I could keep you warm.” 

His tone was suggestive and perhaps a little amused. The comment had heat billowing throughout your body, your gut tightening at the suggestion of something you’d never allowed yourself to think of before. Sukuna was very attractive, and sometimes your mind had drifted in his direction when your hand had been caught between your thighs. But you’d always scolded yourself for it, had always driven away the idea of picturing a man you actually knew when you had a boyfriend. 

Now the suggestion was right there on the table as something real and tangible, and your mind was conjuring all sorts of exciting imagery. 

“O-oh. Yeah, that could be nice,” you said with a sudden rush of confidence. It was Sukuna’s turn to falter, red eyes suddenly wide with surprise, as if you’d called some bluff without even realising it. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmured, pushing you back ever so slightly so he could look properly at your face. “Sorry, I wasn’t actually expecting…this.” 

“I am on the pill,” you offered a little bashfully, embarrassed to have reacted so enthusiastically to what you were now realising was a joke. “But we can wait if you’d rather use a-” 

“No, no-,” his face was definitely a little red this time, seemingly caught off by your willingness. “If you want to, I’d like to. I just…” He rubbed his neck a little awkwardly. “I was just teasing and you surprised me, I guess. You’re always surprising me.” 

Before you could backtrack or come up with some witty response, Sukuna recovered himself and his lips were on your neck. You let out a soft whimper at the sensation of his teeth dragging against your sensitive skin, his lips latching onto you and sucking purple marks onto you with no concern for who might see them the next day. 

As far as he was concerned you were his. Naoya could rage all he wanted. If he wanted to keep his girlfriend he shouldn’t have discarded her on the mountainside. Bitterly, you hoped Naoya found out exactly what you and Sukuna had done that night. Let him seethe. Let him reflect on all that he’d lost. 

The bastard deserved all that misery and more. 

Sukuna’s hands found their way beneath your clothes, calloused fingers pressing against your skin with care. You hadn’t realised how much your whole body was aching until he was touching you like that, your muscles flexing at the new contact. 

You took his actions as a sign to do the same, sliding your own fingers beneath his shirt and pressing them against his abs. You knew he was well built - on hotter days he’d been shirtless when working on teaching you to lead climb, and you’d pretty shamelessly stared at him until your mind had reminded you of your boyfriend.

It would be nice for him to be shirtless now, but neither of you felt like removing any layers of clothing in the cold, so for the time being your touch would have to suffice. That was a freedom that Sukuna seemed to be taking full advantage of, mapping out your body with his hands, his fingers moving to your breasts and squeezing, red eyes lighting up at the little moan it earned him. 

“Really shouldn’t be doing this now,” he whispered huskily against your ear. “Had the whole thing planned out. Figured once you’d broken up with Naoya that I’d take you out on a nice date and then bring you back to my place so we could do this properly. But here we are.” 

You giggled softly at the dismay in his tone. “We can still stop.” 

“No. I want this now. You aren’t so easily resisted. But mark my words, once we’re back home, I’m going to take my time with you. I want to look at you properly beyond just fumbling about in a dark tent - as hot as this is.” 

Giggling again, you nodded, in total agreement with his sentiment. Doing things like this, while a little limited, did feel exciting in its own way. It felt like you were keeping some secret with each other, doing whatever you could in the dark without anyone else knowing about it. There was an allure to it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

With Sukuna’s attention on your breasts, you were the one that ended up making a major move first. Your hand slid down beneath the waistband of his trousers, finding its way into his briefs. He let out a groan at the feeling of your hand brushing against his cock, which twitched erratically at the slightest touch. 

It felt big beneath your fingers, and you hadn’t realised that your breath had hitched until Sukuna was letting out a chuckle. 

“Impressed?” 

“Maybe,” you mumbled shyly. You didn’t have much of a point of reference for such things. Naoya was the only man you’d ever been with, and you imagined that he wasn’t packing anything particularly unique down there. Not if Sukuna’s size was anything to go by. You wrapped your fingers around the shaft, enjoying the way Sukuna shivered in pleasure. 

Meanwhile, Sukuna mirrored your actions, his fingers moving down your body until they were grazing against your panties. It was a little embarrassing how damp the fabric had grown, your pussy desperately slick from the events of the evening. Your body wanted Sukuna just as much as your heart and mind did, and it was making that fact glaringly obvious. 

“So wet,” he said with a chuckle. “There I was all nervous that you wouldn’t feel the same. Shows what I know, huh?” 

You flushed, glancing away from him in embarrassment as his fingers pushed your panties to the side, giving him free access to your pussy beneath. His fingers moved deftly through your folds, moving the slick around before rubbing at your clit, leaving you whining his name and squeezing his cock a little tighter. 

“Cute,” he hummed, his nose brushing against yours. One of his fingers prodded at your opening, pushing in with a little effort. He took a few minutes opening you up with two of his fingers, languidly stuffing you full with them to prepare you. You didn’t want to admit to how emotional the whole thing made you feel, because Naoya had always said that foreplay was a myth. 

Never before had you been prepared for anything, and Sukuna taking so much time to do so had your heart fluttering. 

You tried your best to return the favour, stroking his cock as best as you could while it was still confined beneath his clothes, but he didn’t seem to pay that too much attention - completely fixed on making you cum around his fingers before moving onto anything else. That was another thing that Naoya had never done. Cumming with him was so infrequent that you’d almost grown certain that you couldn’t do it with another person. 

And yet, Sukuna had you doing it in a matter of minutes - your toes curling in desperate pleasure as you gushed over his fingers with a sweet little gasp. 

There was no time for you to catch your breath before he was pushing your trousers and panties down ever so slightly to give him access whilst still keeping you dressed and warm. He did the same for his own clothes, gently displacing your hand from his cock and repositioning the two of you so that he was on top. 

The sleeping bag was still wrapped snugly around the two of you, keeping the warmth in effectively while he lined himself up over you, his muscular body keeping you pinned down beneath him in a position you’d be more than happy to remain in for the rest of your days. It was so nice to be under him like that, to be so surrounded by his body and heat and scent. 

It was where you were supposed to be. In some uncomfortable tent on the side of the mountain feeling happier than ever because he was there with you. 

You’d gone to the mountaineering club for Naoya, but you couldn’t help but think fate had guided your actions and really led you there for Sukuna. 

“All good?” He asked, hot breath brushing against your ear. The tip of his cock was pressed up against your opening, and you realised that he was giving you a chance to back out - showing you a level of consideration that Naoya never would. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, lashes fluttering as you peered up into lovely red eyes, letting out a whine when he finally pushed into you.

You hadn’t been prepared for just how big he was, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your skull as he pressed his way into your tight pussy. Your nails dug into his arms and a whimper left you at the intensity of the feeling. You felt like you were aware of every ridge and vein on his cock, your pussy squeezing around him each time he’d involuntarily twitch within you. 

It didn’t take long for the uncomfortable fullness to give way to pleasure once he bottomed out inside you. It had a pleasantly warm buzz running through your body once he started to thrust within you, the weight of his body keeping you still and secure, keeping you warm even as the storm picked up outside. 

Any fears of the thunder and lightning were pushed aside in favour of focusing on the feeling of being split in two. Sukuna’s lips found your neck once more, overstimulating you as he bit and sucked on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, bringing tears to your eyes beneath all the pleasure he was giving you. 

Even through the stretch it felt right to have him inside you, and it was downright heavenly each time one of his long strokes hit that one specific spot inside you, bringing stars and light to your vision each time. 

This was where you were meant to be. 

Neither of you lasted particularly long. Not after the day you’d just had, and certainly not after months of mutual crushing. You’d cum first - your body already sensitive from the previous orgasm and totally overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all. Sukuna had reached down to play with your clit while he fucked you, and that set you on a high unlike any other. 

If Naoya had known where the clit was, he’d certainly never touched it. 

And yet, there Sukuna was utilising it. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d cum from penetrative sex, but Sukuna had pulled an orgasm from you like it was easy. 

And maybe it was easy. 

Maybe Naoya just fucking sucked. 

Sukuna wasn’t far behind you in reaching his release. When you’d cum you’d clamped down around him tightly, locked in a spiral of pure pleasure unlike that which you’d experienced before. It felt better than anything you could achieve with your own hands - infinitely more intimate and lovely. 

The way you’d squeezed him so tight had sent Sukuna over the edge, prompting him to groan your name in that low tone of his as he filled you with his seed, riding out his own release to the point where you were growing overstimulated and begging him for mercy. 

Mercy which he gave you with a gentle smile and a kiss planted atop your sweaty forehead. 

The two of you lay then in the darkness, soft pants drowned beneath the howling of wind. Sukuna was holding you tightly, keeping you secure in his grip like you might vanish if he didn’t cling to you with all his might. He was still inside you, softening but present in a way that felt blissfully intimate. Whenever you’d laid with Naoya, you couldn’t wait to escape his grip and get cleaned up. 

With Sukuna, it was different. 

You could stay there with him sheathed inside you for hours - connected in a way that just felt right. 

His lips were ghosting against your hair, soothing you with kisses, running his hands over you repetitively in a bid to ensure you stayed warm at his side. Your ankle was throbbing a little from all the movement, but with Sukuna’s legs intertwined with yours you found yourself able to ignore it. All thoughts and discomforts overridden by how happy you felt in that moment. 

“Try and get some sleep,” he murmured against your hair. “I’ll look after you.” 

“I know,” you whispered. 

He smiled softly. “Just making sure you know it. Apparently you can’t take for granted that everyone will look out for you.” His tone came out a little bitter, but instead of feeling anger at the reminder of Naoya’s actions, you felt a warmth blossom across your chest at Sukuna’s display of care. 

You liked that he was angry about it. It was nice to have someone care about you for once. 

In hindsight, it was a blessing that you never made it out into the mountains alone with Naoya like you’d intended to at the start of your mountaineering training. If you had, perhaps you would’ve ended up left for dead - freezing on the side of the mountain while Naoya summoned some crocodile tears and dismissed your fate altogether. 

You were lucky to have Sukuna. Lucky to be able to continue going into the mountains with someone who actually wanted you there. Someone who would really take care of you. 

“I’m glad you’re here to look after me.” Your hand reached for his face, tracing his tattoos with great care. As pleasant as your evening with him had been, you were looking forward to making it down the mountain - to spending time with him outside of that tent. It would be nice to see just where those tattoos disappeared off to beneath his clothes. 

But that would have to wait. 

You knew that the next day would be long. An arduous trek back down the mountain was ahead of you, along with a no doubt vicious confrontation with your ex. One that you were sure Sukuna would take the lead on, but still not something you were looking forward to experiencing. 

Either way, you wouldn’t dwell on it that evening. 

Because for the time being, there was nothing you needed to worry about. The storm could rage on outside for as long as it needed to. You were safe in your tent, in the arms of a man who would never leave you alone on the side of a mountain. 

And it was possibly the happiest you’d been in a very long time. 

a/n: after getting down to the bottom of the mountain the next day I promise reader slapped naoya and sukuna beat the hell out of him :)

had such a fun time writing this its literally the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written as I love being in the mountains hehe

hope you enjoyed! reblogs and comments are appreciated as always!

perma taglist: @calicatzz @suzunu @winkii @sukubusss @bobis-notmylover @tetsuski @torupilled @brattyxackerman @r0vena @chaos-4baby @moonlitreveri3 @feyrinnn @strawberryrosey @creamofsneky-blog @zeeseekay @p1nkfl0wers @apricityn @keiiiluv @dogggggggblog-kaye @lav4mpira @seellove @cutesytwt @gojodickbig @yuujispinkhair @somos-things @yeagersss @paradisestarfishh @jennilynn63 @tthhaattgguuyy27 @bexxli @being-blue-is-better @tisuruxx @juliarchiv3s @dishs0pe @plutoxxxworld @5kkalara @serenadesvt @00frenchfries00 @warriorofenlightenment @scarlet-issilly @himbosexual @pousivuitton @ksjtozaki @certainfanpoetry @gojoscumslut @ynishalee @nakiich @t4ters @himezoro @pandabiene5115

© sukunahs

[ndsoda]

heian sukuna

[dolcemisu]

frat!kuna wants to hear your pretty noises (shy!reader)

even though sukuna wasn’t very vocal, that didn’t mean he didn’t want you to be. when you randomly went quiet underneath him, he wasn’t pleased. his thick cock split you open, causing your gummy walls to flutter around his length. you were squirming underneath him with your pupils blown wide as you took him. sukuna was in awe—you looked beautiful under him just as always—but something was missing. aside from the sound of skin on skin, it was quiet. too quiet.

“don’t go silent on me,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “i need to hear you.”

you were flustered. you turned your head away in embarrassment and shook your head. he snapped his hips again, tip nudging your cervix. you bit your lip to suppress the moan threatening to escape from you.

“are you embarrassed?” sukuna asked. “there’s no need to be, i promise.”

you hesitated, moved by his reassurance. he felt good and you wanted to show him that. but, you were shy. plus, it wasn’t like he made any noise other than his praise and a few low grunts here and there. you didn’t want to do it alone.

“taking me so well,” sukuna groaned. “so fucking tight you’d think i didn’t take good care of you.”

you let out a quiet moan, back arching. it was so hard to keep quiet, especially with the way he buried you to the hilt. you were so full of him you couldn’t think straight. heat pooled in your stomach as he fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

sukuna was close too, how could he not be? your warm walls hugged his length tightly, practically sucking him into your tight cunt. the sight of you under him was enough to get him off. but without the sound of your broken cries, he wasn’t sure if he could finish just yet.

sukuna decided instead of telling you you weren’t alone, he’d show you. the groan he let out snapped you out of it. you clenched around him immediately at the sound.

“‘kuna,” you whined without even realizing it. “feels s’good.”

“there she is. my pretty girl, don’t hide from me. let me hear how good it feels, yeah?”

you nodded and spread your legs even wider. sukuna angled his hips slightly to where his cock reached your sweet spot with each thrust. the delicious stretch was blinding. you cried out his name as you took all of him. his balls slapped against your ass, the lewd sound filling the room and egging him on even more. sukuna groaned into your ear and whispered to you.

“you’re close? come for me, need to hear it and feel it.”

you weren’t as quiet when you came. your orgasm shattered over you at his words. you cried out his name and gripped his bicep. as you came down from the high, you panted, lip quivering as you caught your breath. sukuna followed you right after. he buried you to the hilt with his cock, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your pussy. he groaned softly before collapsing on the bed beside you. his arms found yours, pulling you close to his chest. you put your ear to his chest and listened. his heart was pounding so hard like it was about to burst. you looked up at him with a small smile. he mirrored it and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“to be honest, i don’t think i can go again without hearing you,” he admitted. “don’t be afraid, i got you. always.”

series m.list

© DOLCEMISU

[dolcemisu]

frat!kuna finds reasons to talk to his tutor outside of sessions ! (shy!reader)

it was currently three in the morning and for some reason, your phone was going off. you lifted your head up and reached over to grab it. you winced as the bright screen blinded you, squinting and groaning softly. after you recovered, your jaw dropped. to your surprise, sukuna of all people was blowing up your phone.

sukuna: hey, you busy right now? sukuna: and it’s alr if you are, nws sukuna: or like, if you’re not in the mood to talk too, that’s fine. sukuna: just lmk

you were baffled. he quadruple texted you within five minutes. part of you wondered what was so important. you shot a glance at your roommates bed. it was empty. before you lost your nerve, you hit the call button on his contact.

he picked up after the second ring. despite you being the one to call him, you froze. what do you say? do you tease him for waking you up and quadruple texting? you were so in your head you didn’t release a good couple of seconds went by without a word from you.

“hello? you there?”

your stomach twisted in knots. it was just a phone call, why were you so anxious? he’s been nothing but kind to you ever since you met. the way you presented yourself didn’t seem to really matter to him. yet it mattered so much to you.

“yes, sorry,” you swallowed hard.

“soo… i’m assuming you’re not busy?” he asked, his tone slightly teasing. your lips curved into a smile and you quickly cleared your throat. you weren’t sure why you felt this way about someone you tutored. you didn’t mind them usually, but you never spoke outside of sessions, let alone did you look forward to them. you wondered what he wanted to talk about so badly. was it school related? what is it wasn't? either way, the butterflies in your stomach made you even more nervous.

“nope!” you immediately winced at how enthusiastic you sounded. you probably sounded like an obsessive dork. which you weren’t, not at all. you were above that. even though everything pointed to that.

"so i'm doing tonight’s homework and i'm lost. the process is long and stupid, and i don't really understand it. i was wondering if you could explain it maybe...?"

huh, of course he was contacting you because of schoolwork. you scolded yourself for even entertaining the thought that it was something else.

"yeah no worries." you said carefully. your enthusiasm has since faded. you felt like a clueless idiot.

"let me facetime you and show you." you froze, facetime? you were in your embarrassing pajamas, hair up in a bonnet, no makeup on. crap. the sound of the facetime request blared from your phone and your heart stopped. with a shaky breath, you hit accept and braced yourself.

"aw, your bonnet is pink. cute." he grinned at the phone. he was laying in his bed with his arm behind his head, no homework page in sight. you blinked at him. his compliment made your brain short circuit.

"yes it is, uhm, thank you." you cringed and moved out of the frame. you heard him chuckle and the embarrassment alone ate you alive.

"anyways, as i was saying..." he droned on about the problem and yet, there wasn't a notebook in sight. was he reciting it from memory? you offered some input and he thanked you, praising you for your help. you couldn't help but frown though. the problem sounded oddly familiar. that's when you realized: the two of you had gone over the exact problem last session.

"correct me if i'm wrong but, didn't we already go over this problem?"

it was his turn to freeze up. "oh? we did?" he asked all innocently, eyebrows furrowed. you gaped at him before giggling.

"yes, yes we did sukuna," you giggled.

"oh? then that's my bad then." he shifted and you could see a worn stuffed animal on his bed. adorable. "hey, those highlighters you used last time, where'd you get them?" he ran his fingers through his hair, a smirk tugging on his lips.

oh, so he did remember the last session. all of this was making your head spin. so was he doing this on purpose? was he making fun of your highlighters too? that was a low blow...

"from this stationary shop in town." you replied. your tone wasn't rude or anything, but there was definitely a shift. you didn't have it in you to hide your disappointment. you thought the two of you had somewhat of an understanding of each other. you thought it wasn't all in your head and that you got along pretty well.

"hmm. i want some, we should go sometime," he suggested. "i think they'd help me focus better." he shrugged.

together?!? you tilted your head at him. "oh no, it's okay, i can give you directions, you know..." you said timidly. first calling you at an ungodly hour, then asking to hangout? did tutors hang out with their mentees? you were pretty sure that didn't happen. like ever.

"i clearly have terrible, terrible memory, so i'd think it would be best if you went with me, you know? just in case." he wasn't even trying to hide his grin anymore. you could see all 32 pearly white teeth. you couldn't help but mirror his smile. the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't let up as it all sunk in. he's asking you out.

"okay then," you agreed, failing to contain your excitement. "just in case."

series m.list

© DOLCEMISU

[dolcemisu]

opposites attract ❤︎

frat!sukuna has a massive crush on his shy tutor ! ⟡ : college au : flirting : sukuna has a soft spot for reader : pining : teasing . . more as updated dc: @ tsumiinum ◞ ac: @ winterrbluess

࣪ ۫𓂅 join taglist: 0/50 ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟　. . . fluff﹕ ❤︎ ◞ smut﹕ ✦ ◞ angst﹕ ×

# ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ title ⠀ ⠀ category

001 𓂃 frat!kuna likes to fluster his tutor ! ❤︎

002 𓂃 frat!kuna finds reasons to talk to his tutor outside of sessions ! ❤︎

??? 𓂃 frat!kuna wants to hear your pretty noises ✦

tba 𓂃 shopping for stationary supplies w frat!kuna ❤︎

tba 𓂃 frat!kuna is a reward based learner ✦

TBA ...

© DOLCEMISU

[bfbkg]

PROS AND CONS : BKG (2.3k)

bakugou finds a list you made before you dated him

“one. big cock and knows how to use it. two and it’s in all caps. EATER.”

you rest on your forearms on your sofa, looking across the living room to your boyfriend who has appeared from your bedroom. he’s reading a crumpled sheet of paper from god knows where with a massive grin on his face.

“did you get the fan from my room? katsuki, it’s hot!” you whine petulantly. you've got your thin shorts and bralette on, trying to fight the heatwave that has taken over your city.

the heat has beat you down, left you stranded in your living room with three ice lolly packets in your path and skin sticky. you can feel the sweat trickle down your spine, you can see it gathered on katsuki’s exposed forehead, yet he still stands there reading.

“hold on, i’m lovin’ this,” he says, gold tooth shining as his mouth stretches wider, “three. rich and generous with it. is that right? you with me for my cock and money?”

you blink at him a few times, trying not to get distracted by his shirtless bare chest or the black headband he’s got on to push his unruly blonde locks back. he’s handsome, deliciously so. still, you think back to why everything he’s saying is so familiar.

“four. handsome. deliciously so. body and face. rare,” bakugou laughs, boyish and booming, “thanks, babe.”

you feel uncomfortable, perspiration dribbling between your breasts, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“what is that? what are you reading?”

still bakugou ignores you and continues reading from the paper, “five. successful and ambitious. six. good friend even though he pretends he’s not. protective!! seven. so gentlemanly, holding open doors, paying for dates, very clear on why he likes me.” ruby pupils flicker over to you, “that last one is bare minimum.”

then it clicks, about seven points too late. your head snaps over to him robotically, eyes about to fall out of your head. “where the hell did you find that! stop reading it! stop katsuki!”

you hop up from your seat on your sofa, speed like no other taking over you as you run across the room to grab at the paper in bakugou’s hands. his laugh only booms louder, holding the flimsy sheet in the air over your head as you jump like a child.

“seriously, don’t read anymore!” you shout, trying to hoist yourself up his larger body, using his arms and shoulder as a climbing frame.

nothing about bakugou budges, he just continues reading with the paper in the air.

“it’s getting good, baby!” he laughs, ignoring your jumps and furrowed brows, “eight. listens to me. really listens. makes me feel heard and remembers what i say.”

he looks down at you, whose fingertips are slapping the bottom of the paper. you recognise it all too clearly now. the pink ruled lines, the edges ripped out from one of your old notebooks. your handwriting. “that’s cute. i still listen to you, don’t i?”

“you’re not now! give it back!”

“i’m almost done, two more,” bakugou says, hooking his arm behind your back to keep you locked close to him. you’re both sweaty and sticky. you’ve got no choice but to listen, “nine. cooks. such a good cook! you added five exclamation marks there. ten. fulfils some of my love languages. some?”

“now stop.” you urge. he can’t turn the paper around. he can’t.

bakugou pecks your forehead, his cheeks blushed with all the compliments. he continues skimming the list, rereading it. 

“so this is why you chose to date me, huh?” he looks down at you, pouts his lips, “c'mon gimme a kiss.”

if you just grab it out his hands, he won’t see the other side. with pros always comes—

he stops pouting at you.

“give me the paper. i wrote this all a few years ago!”

“if these are the pros, where’s the cons? you must have done a cons list.” 

you shake your head, side to side. he holds the paper away from you. the opposite side, the list of all your cons, written back at you. you loop out of his arm, trying to reach for it.

he notices you staring, eyes fixated and that’s when he flips the paper around. CONS in big red capital lettering.

“this is private! you weren’t meant to see this, you shouldn’t be snooping in my room!” you squeak but bakugou’s already half down the page, pupils running across every line like he’s in a race.

“one. WILL choose his job over me—,”

“well obviously, your job is to save the world!”

“two. odd relationship with his mother? but apparently it’s better than before.”

“it’s so much better now!”

bakugou’s eyebrows drop now, voice getting lower as he continues, “three. argumentative. argues with EVERYONE. his agency workers, the media and his friends.”

“i understand why you argue with them all now! it makes sense!”

“three. his job is terrifying.”

bakugou looks over to you, solemn narrowed eyes and you don’t have a positive word to say about that.

“it is, sometimes i don’t know if you’ll come home.”

“four. he doesn’t do much else besides work. all his friends are from work.” bakugou pinches his nose bridge, “really? you think that?”

“now i don’t! and i know they’re childhood friends and… and we do things together all the time. i know you love to read, game, you’ve got your lego. i didn’t know all of that then.”

“five. don’t know if my friends and family will understand.” bakugou steps away from you, “the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you huff on the spot, “this was from when i met you! all they’ve seen of you is shouting and yelling on the television. they didn’t know how lovable you are. how well you treat me.”

bakugou looks at you, then back at the paper. scratches his head. “six. inexperienced with sex but it’s really cute. has never had a girlfriend?”

“but number one pro is that you know how to use it. obviously we’re experienced now, we know everything about each other,” you flick your finger between you and your boyfriend. 

“and the girlfriend comment? i can’t help the fact you’re my first.”

“no, i mean yes i know that. it was just a question as to why. it doesn’t mean anything to me now.”

“but it was a factor in whether you wanted to be my girlfriend,” he states.

“well, yeah,” you drawl, “i thought maybe there was a reason as to why. that’s all.”

bakugou raises his eyebrows, looks back at the sheet, “seven. doesn’t always have time for me. travels a lot for work.”

“that hasn’t changed.” bakugou grunts. it’s something he knows you struggle with while dating him. it’s even been a conversation you’ve had a few times throughout your relationship. quality time. you want to spend more time with him but he simply can’t. 

you sigh, grabbing his chin between your fingers so he looks directly at you. his eyes are half lidded, cheeks red and exhausted from the negativity and heat. “we’ve been through this. i’m still gonna stick by you, everything i love about you means more than all the things i find difficult.”

he takes your palm away from your face and squeezes it. but you can tell he’s feeling off. “the last one. eight, he’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time.”

“you’re with celebrities, pro heroes, socialites a lot,” you shrug, “that was jealousy on my part, nothing to do with you.”

“i don’t give a fuck about any of that.”

you nod sharply, “i know! i wrote this a while ago, two years even? a lot has changed.”

bakugou sighs from the pit of his stomach, then flings his head back in a huff. “fuck, baby.” he groans.

then he looks down at you, looking up at him.

“just wanna put it out there, that was private, you weren’t meant to see that, my opinions have now changed and i’m sure you had a mental pro con list for me. i just wrote mine down.”

bakugou folds the paper, “yeah, yeah, i get it. you hate my job that much, huh? it covered half of the fuckin’ cons.

“i also said i liked you were successful and ambitious.” you sit on the back of the sofa, crossing your arms. 

bakugou mirrors you standing, crossing his arms too. “but nothing about my job has changed since we’ve got together.”

you groan, leaning your head on your shoulder, “katsuki, i think you’re making problems out of nothing here.”

“you made a list of the problems with datin’ me.” he frowns, holding the folded paper between two fingers.

“and a list of the reasons why i wanted to date you. obviously the good reasons won if i’m with you now.” you glare at him with a sharp tone.

he begins to pace around the room, paper still in hand. a terrible sign. you watch as sweat trickles down his skin, body flush with heat.

“but, babe. the problems you’ve had with me from before we were dating are still problems now. i still don’t have time for you, you still are terrified every time i’m minutes late from a mission, you don’t think i’d choose you over my job and you don’t think i do anything but work.”

you moan aloud, “and i still want you despite that all. i get the world needs you, heck, i need you if i come across a villain. i don’t hate you for being a hero.”

he stops behind you, on the other side of the sofa, “i don’t want you to resent me when you realise you could have been with someone who does have more time for you, isn’t obsessed with their job, can put you first and doesn’t scare you.”

you hop off the sofa. leaning your forehead on his collarbone. “katsuki. i wouldn’t be here if i didn't want to be. i love you. i choose you everyday. i don’t want to argue with you.”

bakugou doesn’t touch you. there’s a shake to his voice, “i’m sorry i’m not better. i’m gonna try to be. just wait for me, fuck, maybe when i’m slower and the younger lot take over, they’ll need me less. it’s just now—,”

“it’s okay. you have time for me right now but you wanna argue with me," you pout up at him.

“you did put that i’m argumentative,” he looks away from you as your hands link around his neck. 

“look at me.”

shiny lava red pupils find you. you ground him, takes him out of the what ifs and the failures of his past and places him in the present with you. 

“i have dated bakugou katsuki for two years and i love him so much. i love how kind and generous he is, always putting his loved ones first. how he dedicates his life and body to saving the world. how even if he’s tired from a long week of working, he still comes over to cook me a three course meal because he wants to see me eat his food. who was so open and willing to change for me. to change his routines and learn my body. who is argumentative because he wants to make things right. who wanted so hard for my family and friends to love him and manages to see his mother once a week just to check up on her.”

you search in both his eyes and he’s listening, he always is.

“i can write an updated list for you, if you want.”

he shakes his head, stuffs his forehead into your neck and slowly pushes you down into the sofa. you laugh, his hands plastered into your waist as his body crushes you in the plush cushions ever so slightly.

“‘m sorry. i shouldn’t have read it. even though i enjoyed the pros.” he muffles, lips tickling your skin.

you tap his shoulder. “you shouldn’t have but it’s okay. i still need you to get my fan. it’s hot.”

“promise you’ll tell me if you want somethin’ to change between us. i’m not wakin’ up one day to you leavin’ me for a reason right under my nose.” he urges and you can see him pleading. the desperation for you to agree.

“promise. now you promise me.”

“course i promise. i couldn’t even fill out ten reasons as to why i hate you.”

“i didn't say i hate you. and sure you can. you hate my cold feet. you hate how i moan about my job. you hate how i hate your job. you hate how i always want a massage. you hate how i wait until the last minute when you’re tucked up in bed for you to get me a glass of water. you hate how i’m indecisive for what i want for my birthdays and—,”

bakugou sits up, “i don't hate any of that shit. love listenin’ to you and half that shit is cute as hell.”

you pout, “you hate when i wear low cut tops out—,”

he frowns, “that’s foreplay, baby. you let me suck your tits after to make me happy. couldn’t give a shit what you wear.”

“how about how protective my friends are? and the fact i tell them everything?”

bakugou shrugs, “you deserve friends that love you that much and that you can tell everythin’.”

“i get snappy when i’m running late or too much is going on or i’m hot.”

with that bakugou gets up. your fan. though not without hovering over you to give you a peck. then another. you press your soft lips against his though you don’t open up because then you will get even hotter and snappy.

he pulls off you and rises from the sofa, “that makes sense, baby. you’re stressed and uncomfortable.”

you roll your eyes, “stop being so understanding!”

he walks towards your bedroom, but not without turning around to look at you. his fingers grip the door frame, “i love you.”

“i love you too… and no snooping!”

[mandarinaaaas]

Things worth preserving

in which gojo accidentally finds out ryomen sukuna had a wife in a million year old book hahah,hi everyone,english isnt my first language,but i love the idea of sukuna and his wife actually being recorded and not only him as the king of curses! enjoy:)

The archives beneath Jujutsu High had never been particularly exciting.

Most of what survived from the Heian era consisted of brittle scrolls, incomplete temple records, and the sort of historical documents clearly written by people who considered punctuation an unnecessary luxury. Dust lingered in every forgotten corner, clinging to shelves so old they seemed to sag beneath centuries of accumulated history. It smelled faintly of old paper, ink, and cedar.

Gojo Satoru had been there for nearly an hour.

He was already bored.

Another page turned.

Tax records.

Another.

Rice exports.

Another.

A local lord complaining about border disputes to another local lord who was, apparently, equally interested in complaining.

"...If I have to read one more sentence about agricultural taxation," Gojo muttered, lazily resting his chin against his hand, "I'm voting we let Sukuna win."

Silence answered him.

The archives, predictably, lacked a sense of humor.

He sighed dramatically before reaching for another volume from the stack Yaga had insisted might contain "useful historical context."

Useful.

Right.

Ever since Itadori Yuji had swallowed Sukuna's finger, Jujutsu High had begun collecting every surviving document that mentioned the King of Curses. Museums reluctantly opened their vaults, private collectors suddenly found themselves entertaining visits from sorcerers, and forgotten temple archives were being translated for the first time in generations. Somewhere among thousands of years of records, there had to be something. A forgotten ritual. An overlooked weakness. A detail everyone else had dismissed.

Gojo wasn't particularly optimistic.

Still...

If history had somehow preserved a diary that read Dear Journal, today I discovered my one fatal weakness is being stabbed specifically through the left side of my chest, he'd happily spend the afternoon reading ancient calligraphy.

Unfortunately, history appeared determined to be profoundly unhelpful.

He reached for another book.

Unlike the others, this one wasn't a military record or a religious manuscript. Its leather cover had faded almost to gray, softened by centuries of careful handling, while delicate illustrations peeked from between yellowed pages. There was no clan insignia stamped into the binding, no official seal declaring it royal property.

Instead, the first page bore only a careful introduction written in elegant brushstrokes.

A record of remarkable observations gathered throughout the Eastern Dominion during my residence within the palace of Ryomen Sukuna.

Gojo raised an eyebrow.

"...Finally."

This looked considerably more promising.

The anonymous author wasn't a historian, nor a monk, nor a military advisor. Judging by the first several pages, they had simply spent years documenting unusual things worthy of preservation. Ancient weapons. Ceremonial armor. Imported artifacts whose craftsmanship had no equal. Rare medicinal herbs cultivated within the palace gardens. Strange animals presented as tribute from distant kingdoms. Cursed objects too dangerous to be handled without careful supervision.

It wasn't a chronicle of Sukuna himself.

It was a catalogue of everything the painter had considered remarkable enough to immortalize.

Gojo settled more comfortably against one of the archive shelves and turned the page.

The first illustration stretched across nearly two sheets of parchment.

The palace.

Even rendered only in ink and faded mineral pigments, it was immense. Layer upon layer of rooftops climbed into the surrounding mountains, connected by covered corridors, open courtyards, hanging gardens, and terraces that overlooked forests stretching far beyond the horizon. Tiny handwritten annotations surrounded the painting, noting architectural techniques, imported timber, the placement of ceremonial halls, and the irrigation system responsible for feeding the sprawling medicinal gardens.

"...Rich bastard," Gojo murmured.

He turned another page.

The eastern armory.

Another.

The medicinal gardens.

Rows upon rows of unfamiliar herbs spread beneath carefully constructed trellises, each labeled meticulously by the painter. Several paragraphs described their uses in treating fever, poisoned wounds, and cursed-energy exhaustion. It was the sort of obsessive documentation only someone completely fascinated by their subject would bother recording.

Gojo skimmed most of it.

Then his eyes caught something near the corner of the illustration.

Someone.

A woman knelt between the rows of herbs, entirely unaware she had become part of the painting. She held several freshly cut stems in one hand while examining another beneath the afternoon light, her attention fixed solely on the plants before her. There was nothing ceremonial about the moment. She wasn't posing. If anything, she looked as though the painter had simply happened to capture her while documenting the garden itself.

She was... striking.

Not in the exaggerated, idealized way noblewomen often appeared in commissioned portraits, but with the effortless sort of beauty that felt almost accidental. The painter had somehow preserved the softness of an expression never intended to be remembered, the faint smile of someone completely absorbed in whatever occupied her thoughts.

There was no caption naming her.

No explanation.

The accompanying notes continued discussing medicinal herbs as though she weren't there at all.

Gojo frowned for only a second before turning the page.

Interesting.

Probably someone's wife.

Or a servant.

Whatever she was, she clearly wasn't what the painter had been trying to preserve.

At least...

That's what he thought.

The next several pages were exactly what Gojo had expected.

Ceremonial naginata gifted by a northern clan. Bronze incense burners cast in the likeness of dragons. Imported lacquerware. Silk dyed with pigments so expensive the accompanying notes spent nearly half a page explaining their origin. Whoever had ruled this place had clearly never been told the meaning of moderation.

"...Yeah, yeah," Gojo muttered as he turned another page. "Very rich. Very terrifying."

The painter certainly thought so.

Every object had been rendered with painstaking care, accompanied by meticulous observations written in an elegant, restrained hand. There was no embellishment, no mythology, no exaggerated admiration—only patient documentation by someone determined to preserve what they had seen exactly as it was.

Gojo almost missed her the second time.

The painting itself depicted one of the palace's inner courtyards. Stone pathways wound between shallow streams that carried water toward the medicinal gardens, every bridge and carved pillar labeled neatly along the margins. Near the edge of the page, almost hidden beneath the branches of a flowering tree, the same woman from the herb garden crossed the courtyard with a woven basket resting comfortably against her hip.

Different robes.

Different season.

The same gentle expression.

He paused only long enough to convince himself it was a coincidence before turning another page.

The palace infirmary occupied nearly two full illustrations. Shelves climbed from floor to ceiling beneath carefully painted bundles of drying herbs, rows of ceramic jars, handwritten remedies, and instruments whose purpose Gojo couldn't even begin to guess. The accompanying notes remained as methodical as ever.

The palace infirmary contained an unusually extensive collection of dried herbs, prepared tinctures, and medicinal texts.

Several labels were amended during my stay by the lady of the inner residence, whose familiarity with the apothecary exceeded my own understanding.

She received servants and laborers seeking remedies with notable patience, regardless of rank. Such interruptions appeared to occasion no objection from His Majesty.

Gojo frowned.

"...She was treating servants?"

The sentence lingered with him longer than he expected.

Not because someone within the palace knew medicine—that wasn't unusual.

Because whoever this woman was, she seemed to move through the palace with remarkable freedom. Servants sought her out. Physicians accepted her corrections. And apparently, Ryomen Sukuna himself had never objected.

"...Huh."

He turned another page.

Then another.

Without realizing it, he stopped looking at the artifacts first.

Instead, his eyes searched for her.

She appeared beside an aviary housing brilliantly colored birds brought from distant kingdoms, one perched comfortably along the wooden railing as she watched it with quiet fascination. Another painting captured a covered corridor after heavy snowfall, the architecture clearly intended as the subject, yet there she was again in the distance, carrying fresh bundles of firewood alongside two laughing servants. A study of the palace gardens at the beginning of spring placed her kneeling beside newly planted herbs, sleeves rolled neatly above her wrists as she worked with soil-stained hands while gardeners carried tools around her as though the scene were entirely ordinary.

She never acknowledged the painter.

More curiously, the painter never seemed particularly interested in her either.

She simply... happened to be there.

Again.

And again.

Gojo flipped back several pages.

Then forward.

Gojo turned the page with considerably more enthusiasm than he had intended to admit.

Another illustration unfolded across the parchment, this one depicting one of the palace's inner courtyards surrounding a wide koi pond. The painter had devoted remarkable attention to the water itself, carefully reproducing each reflection of the surrounding architecture and every ornamental stone lining its banks. Bright carp drifted lazily beneath lily pads while flowering trees arched overhead.

Near the edge of the painting, almost hidden beneath one of those trees, Sukuna stood with his arms folded while the same woman crouched beside the pond, one hand extended over the water.

Several koi had gathered around her.

One had practically climbed into her palm.

The accompanying note read in the same restrained hand.

The eastern pond houses carp of uncommon size imported from the southern provinces.

The fish proved unusually receptive to the lady's presence, gathering readily whenever she approached the water.

His Majesty was observed accompanying these visits with surprising regularity.

Gojo stared.

"...You followed them to the fish."

Another page.

The painter had chosen to document the palace kitchens during preparations for one of the seasonal banquets. Servants hurried between enormous iron cauldrons while trays of elaborate dishes disappeared toward the dining halls. Every utensil had been painstakingly sketched and labeled with almost obsessive precision.

Near one corner stood the same woman.

She held a small porcelain cup toward Sukuna with unmistakable skepticism painted across her face.

He appeared... unimpressed.

The note beneath explained nothing and somehow everything.

Among the imported goods presented during my stay was a variety of mountain tea said to be favored by western nobles.

His Majesty expressed no opinion regarding its quality.

The lady declared it comparable in flavor to boiled bark.

It was not served again.

Gojo lowered the book.

"...She bullied the King of Curses into changing tea."

He snorted.

"...Good for her."

The next illustration depicted one of the open verandas overlooking the palace gardens.

Several palace cats had claimed the afternoon sun for themselves, sprawled shamelessly across polished cedar floors without the slightest concern for royal dignity. Most ignored everyone entirely.

One, however, had selected Sukuna.

The enormous white creature slept comfortably across his lap while he continued reading a scroll as though the additional weight had ceased to surprise him years ago.

A second cat had curled against the woman's side, entirely content to steal the sleeve of her kimono as a pillow.

The note beneath was concise.

Contrary to expectation, the palace cats appeared entirely unafraid of His Majesty.

A number demonstrated equal attachment to the lady.

Whether this reflects discernment or poor instinct remains uncertain.

Gojo barked out a laugh.

"No. Absolutely not."

He looked closer.

"...Why are there so many cats?"

He turned another page.

The palace had been decorated for one of its larger seasonal celebrations.

Lanterns stretched across every corridor. Musicians occupied the gardens. Nobles drifted between pavilions dressed in layers of embroidered silk, each household distinguished by elaborate colors and patterns. The painter had clearly intended to preserve the ceremonial garments worn throughout the festival, filling nearly the entire page with notes describing imported dyes, weaving techniques, and regional embroidery.

Only after several moments did Gojo notice them.

They weren't standing together.

Not exactly.

She spoke with several noblewomen near one veranda while Sukuna stood some distance away among his retainers.

There was nothing unusual about that.

Until Gojo noticed their robes.

Different cuts.

Different embroidery.

The same silk.

The exact same deep crimson woven with black thread that caught the evening light differently from every other garment in the painting.

His eyes drifted to the note beneath.

During the Mid-Autumn celebration, the household of His Majesty wore garments fashioned from the same southern silk recently presented by foreign envoys.

The weaving was said to have required nearly three years to complete.

No comparable textile was observed elsewhere within the palace.

Gojo blinked.

"...Matching outfits?"

He leaned back, rubbing one hand across his face.

"I don't know why that's bothering me more than literally everything else."

By now he'd completely abandoned any pretense of researching Sukuna.

He wasn't looking for cursed techniques anymore.

He wasn't looking for weaknesses.

Every time he turned another page, he found himself hoping—

Just a little—

That she'd be there again.

There couldn't have been many pages left.

Gojo realized that only because the parchment had begun to thin beneath his fingers. The paintings grew larger now, less concerned with cataloguing individual objects and more interested in preserving places before the passing seasons altered them once again.

It almost felt as though the anonymous painter had grown fond of the palace by the end of his stay.

Gojo couldn't really blame him.

He turned another page.

The western library occupied nearly the entire illustration, shelves climbing toward an impossibly high ceiling while afternoon sunlight spilled through open lattice windows. Scrolls lay stacked across low tables beside brushes, loose sheets of parchment, and unfinished copies of medicinal texts waiting to be rebound.

He barely looked at any of it.

She sat near one of the windows with an open book resting across her lap, completely absorbed in whatever she was reading. Across the room, Sukuna appeared to be doing exactly the same.

Neither acknowledged the other.

Neither spoke.

The silence somehow looked... comfortable.

The note beneath the painting was characteristically restrained.

The palace library remained open throughout the daylight hours.

Conversation within was uncommon.

His Majesty and the lady frequently occupied the western alcove during the afternoon, often departing no sooner than the changing of the lamps.

Gojo stared for a moment.

"...They read together?"

He let out a quiet laugh.

"That's... unexpectedly adorable."

The next page depicted one of the palace's covered walkways after a summer rain. Water still clung to the tiled roofs, reflecting the evening light in scattered ribbons of gold. Servants hurried about drying wooden floors while gardeners collected broken branches left behind by the storm.

Near the center of the painting, the woman stood beneath the shelter of the corridor, one sleeve extended beyond the roofline to catch the falling rain.

Sukuna stood beside her.

Not participating.

Simply... waiting.

The painter's note read:

Summer storms commonly delayed activity throughout the palace.

His Majesty appeared remarkably patient on such occasions.

Whether this disposition owed to the weather itself or to his company, I cannot confidently determine.

Gojo covered his mouth.

"...You're killing me."

He turned another page before he could think about why that sentence had made him smile.

The final illustration unfolded slowly beneath his hands.

It stretched across both pages.

The western balcony overlooked nearly the entire valley beyond the palace, where mountains dissolved into evening haze beneath a sky painted in shades of amber and violet. Vines climbed lazily around carved cedar pillars while lanterns waited to be lit with the coming dusk. Every stone, every beam, every flowering branch had been reproduced with almost reverent precision.

Only after several seconds did Gojo notice them.

Not because they had been hidden.

Because they fit the scene too naturally.

She rested one hand against the wooden railing, looking out across the mountains with an easy smile that suggested she had been speaking moments before. Even trapped forever in ink, there was movement in her expression, as though the next breath would bring another story.

Beside her stood Sukuna.

Close enough that the sleeves of their robes nearly touched.

His posture remained exactly as history remembered it—relaxed, imposing, completely certain of itself.

But...

He wasn't looking at the mountains.

He was looking at her.

Not intensely.

Not possessively.

Just...

Listening.

Like wherever the conversation had wandered was more interesting than the sunset behind it.

Gojo felt something in his chest quietly shift.

He looked closer.

Their robes were different from those worn during the festival.

Different embroidery.

Different colors.

Yet the silk itself caught the fading sunlight exactly the same way, woven from the same impossibly fine thread that shimmered with identical depth beneath the evening sky.

His eyes drifted lower.

There.

A simple band of gold circled her left hand.

The same band rested upon Sukuna's.

For several seconds, Gojo simply stared.

Then, almost mechanically, his eyes dropped to the final note written beneath the painting.

His Majesty seldom remained available for portraiture beyond matters of state.

During my residence, I found him most frequently upon the western balcony in the company of the lady of the inner residence.

Though I first intended to preserve the architecture, the gardens, and the quality of the evening light, I confess these figures appeared so often within them that omitting either would have rendered the observations incomplete.

Perhaps future generations shall remember this palace for its sovereign.

I suspect those who truly visited it will remember that it was once lived in.

Silence settled over the archives.

Gojo looked back at the painting.

At Sukuna.

At the woman.

At the matching rings.

Then back to Sukuna again.

"...You've got to be kidding me."

He laughed softly to himself, shaking his head as he closed the book halfway.

"I came down here looking for dirt on the King of Curses..."

His thumb lingered between the pages.

"...and somehow I ended up reading a thousand-year-old married couple's photo album."

His eyes drifted back to the woman one last time.

He still didn't know her name.

The painter had never written it.

Not once.

Yet by the end of the journal, she felt just as impossible to forget as the man history had immortalized.

Gojo smiled to himself.

"...Man."

Another glance at the final painting.

"I don't think anyone mentioned the wife."

BONUS :)

Gojo closed the journal with far more care than he'd opened it.

"...Well."

He rested a hand against the worn leather cover for another moment before sliding it neatly back into its place among the shelves.

"So much for finding Sukuna's secret weakness."

Instead, he'd somehow spent the better part of an afternoon reading what amounted to centuries-old candid sketches of a palace... and wondering why history had neglected to mention the woman who seemed to inhabit every corner of it.

He still didn't know her name.

The painter had never written it.

Not once.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

Yaga.

Gojo answered with an exaggerated sigh.

"If you're calling to ask whether I've discovered the King of Curses' fatal weakness, I'm afraid the answer is no."

A pause.

"I did, however, discover that historians are terrible at prioritizing information."

"...What are you talking about?"

"Long story."

"It can wait."

Yaga's voice remained as even as ever.

"I need you upstairs."

Gojo glanced once more toward the shelf where he'd returned the journal.

"...Now?"

"Now."

He pushed himself off the floor with another dramatic sigh.

"I was busy."

"I know."

"...Research."

"I know."

Gojo smiled to himself.

"Fine. What's so important?"

"We've hired another instructor."

That caught his attention.

"Oh?"

"They'll be assisting with first-year practical training."

Gojo raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't know we were hiring."

"We weren't planning to."

"...Sounds mysterious."

"It isn't."

Yaga paused.

"I want you to show them around the campus."

Gojo groaned loudly enough that Yaga almost certainly moved the phone away from his ear.

"You're making me do orientation?"

"You're the only instructor available."

"I hate being available."

"I'll see you upstairs."

The call ended.

Gojo slipped his hands into his pockets and headed toward the archive stairs, throwing one last glance over his shoulder at the shelf.

He took one last look at the balcony painting before closing it completely.

The woman smiled forever from faded mineral pigments, unaware that a thousand years later someone was trying very hard to figure out who she'd been.

Gojo smiled to himself.

"...Still think you would've made this book way more interesting than your husband."

With a quiet shake of his head, he disappeared up the staircase.

The archives fell silent once more.

The old journal remained exactly where he'd left it, tucked neatly among hundreds of forgotten records.

Waiting.

A/N: honestly the thought of him falling in love with this guys wife is hilarious lmao