affirmations they will not kill me at work today. it is not in my job description to get killed. if they did kill me at work that would be weird and probably not worth it for them
description -> there wasn't much you and frat boy!sukuna ryomen had in common...except your mutual disdain for partner projects. (un)luckily for the two of you, fate has a way of bringing together the seemingly incompatible. but as the project continues and studying sessions involve less and less studying, you both discover you're learning more about yourselves than the subject matter at hand...
word count -> 7.3k
cw -> kissing || smut (finally!) || dry humping || cunnilingus || mutual masturbation || multiple orgasms || p in v penetration || unprotected sex (you have been warned, this chapter it literally 80% smut) || small fluff at end :)
enjoy pookies! thanks for being so patient and sticking with me for so long - hope you enjoy but also please be gentle bc this is my first time writing smut lol
part eight || part nine || part ten
Sukuna could count on his hands the number of times in his life he’d been nervous. Once, when he was the ring bearer for his older brother’s wedding. The two gold bands sat on top of a red cushion and probably cost more than anything Sukuna had ever held before, and he spent the whole time thinking how much of an idiot his brother was trusting him to walk down the aisle without majorly fucking something up. The second time would have been when Yuji was born, and Jin brought him home from the hospital. Small, frail, and pale, with the signature pink tufts of hair and the softest look on his face, his big grey eyes unscathed, full of curiosity. Jin asked if he wanted to hold him, and Sukuna protested, having never held anything so gentle at such a destructive time in his life. Jin insisted and handed the bundle over carefully, with Sukuna clutching the baby close to his chest, not even breathing in fear of disturbing Yuji’s peaceful slumber.
The third time? Probably now, when you, staring at him with sultry eyes that stopped him in his tracks, walked backward into your apartment with an invitation that he was ready to beg for on his hands and knees weeks ago, with your last line hitting him like bricks to the chest.
Why don’t you come inside and find out?
He nodded dumbly, his mind wiped clear. His body moved on autopilot, his feet stepping before his brain could catch up. He felt your hand slide around his wrist, pulling him into your apartment, like his legs weren’t moving fast enough for either of your liking. He looked down at you, and a giggle escaped your lips.
“Don’t get all shy on me now.”
His mouth was dry.
God, you would be the death of him.
“You nervous or something?”
Fuck, was it obvious?
“No. Just…letting you take the lead.”
You hummed in approval, turning back around, your hand still encircling his as you led him through the front door and to your couch. You turned around, facing him again, gazing up through your lashes, your wide eyes hypnotizing. Sukuna felt himself leaning in and down to your face before you pressed a finger to his chest. He grunted in protest, irritation evident. You only offered a small smile.
“Sit.”
He sat.
Your smile widened. “You listen so well,” you commented, taking small steps forward, still standing, now slightly positioned between his open legs.
“Don’t start.” He took his hands and dragged them up and down your calves, his fingers drumming the back of your knees. His touch was instinctual, your body like a magnet, an attraction his body could not fight any longer.
He had to touch you. He was scared he might combust if he didn’t do so any longer.
“You gonna sit too?”
“Eventually.” You leaned forward, bracing your body on the back of the couch behind Sukuna. He leaned back in tandem, his eyes dark, pupils blown, legs stretching open wider as you brought your knee up, its weight sinking into the couch cushion, dangerously close to his crotch. “I just wanna make some things clear with you.”
He nodded, his hands slowly moving up from your calves to the back of your thighs. You could feel the heat of his hands through the fabric of your jeans, and your chest rose and fell at the memory of when he had his hands last on you. You dragged your other knee up, now fully in a straddling position, and brought your hands down, your fingers playing with the curls at the back of his neck. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he kept his eyes on you, flicking down to your lips and back up, tracing the planes of your face. His hands kept roaming, the pads of his fingers still curled into your thighs. You hovered above, not fully sitting, teasing, not giving either what you wanted, what you came for, until you laid out stipulations on the table.
You weren’t sure where this confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the liquor running through your veins, liquid courage to get you kneeling above Sukuna, with him, his body so pliant underneath you. Or maybe it was the realization that you held the cards; you always did. For so long, you felt subject to the whims of the wind, where it blew you was the direction you stumbled in, but here, in your apartment, on your couch, with Sukuna looking up at you like you hung his moon and stars, and holding you like you would vanish at any second, you left the power of his desire rush to your head.
“I know you haven’t done this before, but I don’t like to share.” You started. Your thumb rubbed gently up and down the column of his neck, and he licked his lips, forcing his eyes back on yours. “If we’re gonna do this, I need to be it for you.”
“You’re it for me.” He repeated immediately. His earnestness made your lips curl up. “It’s only you,” he said, his voice raspy and low. His hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. He felt starved like a madman, so hungry, so delirious that he thought you could get him to say anything you wanted. Blood had been rushing south ever since you wrapped your arms around his, and it had only gotten worse when he stepped foot in your apartment, your warm scent like an aphrodisiac, an addiction he wanted to bury himself in. He’d never been reduced to such a state, just pure putty in your hands, and yet, he’s right where he wants to be.
“I only want you.” His hands travelled further up, now resting on your hips, his thumbs sliding just underneath the hem of your white tank, lighting your skin underneath on fire. You inhaled shakily as he brought his head forward and down in solemn devotion, pressing the smallest kiss to your navel, right where the smallest strip of skin was visible between your shirt and jeans. Heat pooled deep, burrowing itself in your core, and you felt your heartbeat quicken, your blood like magma, carrying arousal throughout your being. He looked up at you through his lashes, a desperate craving puddling in his eyes like red rivers, their depth calling to you with the most primal tune that strummed through your entire body, a siren’s cry tantalizing you both.
“Please.” His voice cracked under the weight of his desire. ”Let me show you.”
You both were on the edge. Sukuna was like a chained dog, your leash wrapped around his collar, eyes set on the prize, waiting for the magic words to release him from this prison of torment. Your body, so close to his, your vanilla and hazelnut scent dizzying him so much he couldn’t think straight, the heat from your body and the feel of your fingers on his neck nearly burning him from how good the sensation is. His hands flexed on your sides, and his neck craned up, veins popping from the side as he strained his neck to reach for you.
“Please.”
A cord in you splintered. Your eyes, half lidded, were laser-focused on his. Slowly, agonizingly, you began to sink, dropping your weight on his lap, bringing your mouth closer to his face. Your breath was hot as it fanned over his skin, your whisper sending a shiver down his spine as you brought your lips to his ear.
“Fine. Show me.”
His reaction was immediate. With permission finally granted, his control snapped, leaving behind something animalistic and raw and dripping with want. It washed over and overwhelmed you, both too much and not enough, hot and heavy and everything you two had been craving.
He pulled your body down the rest of the way, refusing to deny himself the closeness of you on him. You gasped as you felt all of him beneath you, the sinewy muscle of his thighs and his hard center, pressing and pulsing against your heat. He swallowed up your gasp in a kiss, devouring the small noises you made when you finally made contact. Your eyes fluttered shut, as if depraving one of your senses would help you control yourself, but you couldn’t help your movements – your hands pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck, lifting his head back and deepening the kiss, your small turns as you nipped at each other’s lips, noses and foreheads brushing, your hips shifting back and forth, trying to relieve the smallest bit of pressure built up from weeks of yearning. His hand came around the back of your neck, his fingers buried in your hair as if he couldn’t bear for you to be further away for a second. His other hand came down to the top of your thigh, guiding you back and forth on his lap. The slight vibrations and the friction of your clothing rubbing against each other sent your heads spinning. He groaned inadvertently when you shifted over his bulge, and his grip tightened in your hair and on your hip, signaling you to move faster.
You broke the kiss for air, and he chased you forward, eyes glassy and pleading as you pulled back, chest heaving. You stared deep into his eyes, the darkest shade of red you had ever seen them, so dark they seemed practically black. He breathed out, voice and expression fucked out, even when you had barely touched. “What’s wrong?”
“Take off your shirt.”
His dick twitched. Like he was cast under a spell, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, tugging it off and throwing it on the end of the couch, already feigning to get your lips back on his. He kissed you, sucking on your bottom lip as he took your hands, guiding them where he needed them, dragging them down the expanse of his chest, the feeling on your hands on his skin like euphoria, better than anything he could have ever dreamed.
“Touch me,” he whispered against your lips, his words littered between breathless kisses. “Anywhere. Anywhere you want. I need to feel you.”
Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Greedily, you ran your hands along his skin, feeling every inch of his sculpted, toned body, his heat warming your insides. Your hands gripped his shoulders as you steadied yourself, grinding down on his crotch. He threw his head back, groaning, both hands shooting up to rest on your hips.
“Fuck,” he gritted out, your name coming out like a prayer. “Keep moving.”
You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. You shifted your hips back and forth, your pace quickening as Sukuna assisted, little whimpers falling from your mouth as you launched yourself forward, burying your face in his neck. You flushed, too overcome with the sensations your body was feeling. Your breath became labored as you tried to control the searing hot ripple bubbling in your stomach. Sukuna took the opportunity to pull you closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, nipping your skin everywhere you were sensitive, thrusting up into you, hardly reigning in his lust.
You dragged your hand down his chest, running over the ridges of his abdomen, curiosity and ardor clouding your mind as your fingers brushed over his clothed dick. You short-circuited when you felt him beneath you, how big and thick and hard he was, just from the little you had done.
He took your hand in his and guided it, rubbing it over himself, voice strained like a rubber band pulled taut. “You see that? You feel that?”
You nodded, unable to speak.
“That’s what you do to me.”
“God, Kuna, please, I – ” you whined, mind too foggy to even know quite what you were asking for.
“That’s how you make me feel.” His mouth only moved more ardently, sucking and nipping, glossing over the marks he was leaving with his tongue, the hot, biting sensation soothed by the gentlest kiss. You moaned when his lips found the back of your ear, the underside right near your lobe, so sensitive that when he pressed his lips there, you felt like your body underwent a factory reset, shuddering in his lap.
“You drive me fucking crazy.”
The coil in your stomach reared back like a viper about to pounce. Another grind along your core hit exactly where you needed it to, and your neck craned back in pleasure. A high-pitched whine escaped from your throat, and your eyes squeezed shut. “God, Kuna, I’m – ”
You felt him grunt against your chest, his arm wrapping around your waist. You yelped when you felt him stand beneath you, your arms flinging back to his neck, and your legs immediately wrapping around his hips. He carried you, supporting your weight with one hand as he made his way through your apartment, pushing your bedroom door open, still peppering kisses along your neck and jaw. Your head swam from the sudden loss of stimulation, and when your back hit the cushiony plush of your comforter, your legs hanging off the edge of the bed, you leaned up, resting your weight on your forearms to stare at Sukuna, who towered above you.
You blinked slowly, trying to steady yourself. “What – what’re you – ”
Your words died in your throat as your vision cleared and you saw him sink to his knees.
His hands came up, caressing the backs of your calves as he spoke. “You need to know how fucking sorry I am for ever making you feel like that. I need you to know.”
“Sukuna, I do know.”
But he only shook his head. “No. I’ll never say it enough. But,” he stared at you with eyes that made your thighs clench closer together. He wet his lips. “Please. If you’ll let me…”
“Kuna…”
“I wanna taste.”
Jesus fucking Christ. You felt your heartbeat stop as your cunt began to pulse. It was as if you could feel every cell rushing through every vein, every sense lit on fire by his words, melodic to your ears.
“Please. Let me taste you.”
You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you only nodded. You began to move your fingers to unbutton your jeans, but Sukuna pushed your hands aside, ready to do it himself.
Painfully, agonizingly slowly, he undid the top button to your jeans, his fingers pulling down at the zipper and brushing over your mound of skin, already sensitive from earlier. You were embarrassed by the slight gasp you let out, but Sukuna couldn’t be bothered by how reactive you were to his touch; if anything, it fueled him.
He unzipped and moved toward your hips, pulling the fabric down over your thighs and knees, finally pulling off each leg and leaving you exposed in your underwear, tank top, and bra. His eyes honed in on your pussy, the lacy black material leaving so little to the imagination, you could almost hear the lewd thoughts spilling from his mind.
But nothing was ever easy with Sukuna. Like he was taunting you, he started at your lower leg, kissing up around your calf, to the back of your knees, up, up, to the plush of your thighs, sharing equal attention to both legs. You couldn’t help but begin to be antsy as he dragged his lips up the lower half of your body, kissing you everywhere but where you needed him.
He pulled at the skin of your inner thigh, biting lightly and still eliciting another gasp from you. You felt him grin against your leg. “So sensitive. Is that all for me?”
Him and his smart mouth. Just moments ago, he was on his knees, pleading to taste you, and now you could feel his canines against your skin, his smile teasing how visceral your body was to his actions. You wish you had the wherewithal to fire something back, but your mind and your heart and every other part of your body would begin to scream if he didn’t touch you the way you needed to be touched. What came out was on the verge of begging. “Kuna, please, I need – fuck! ”
Your plea was cut off by a long, slow, arduous lick up the lips of your pussy, through the fabric of your panties, so vile and crude it felt sacrilegious. Your back arched as his tongue made another stripe up your cunt, your fingers burying into your sheets, both the comforter and your face twisted in pleasure. “Oh, fuck,” you whispered, trying to breathe through the stimulation of his mouth and your panties working in tandem to wind you up.
You felt your legs begin to lock together, closing in around Sukuna’s head, and he brought his hands up to the outer sides of your legs, giving him leverage to push his face deeper into your cunt. His tongue lapped against your cotton gusset, already soaked from your arousal, and now dripping from his wetness. He pressed open-mouthed kisses against your core, pecking all around your clit to the point where you felt like you were vibrating from your aching cunt, all but pleading to be touched.
“Sukuna, please.”
“I know, princess, I know. Just wanna make you feel good.”
You were past the point of feeling good. You sighed as you fell back into your comforter, too wrapped up in your pleasure to hold yourself up any longer, instead trying to focus on keeping yourself together as his mouth continued working.
This wasn’t your first time being intimate with someone, but Sukuna was unraveling you in a way that made you blush like a virgin. With others, sex felt more like a means to an end. A transaction acts unspoken until necessary, a “not there”, a “wait, that doesn’t feel good”, an awkward laugh as you adjust positions - something to relieve stress and get both parties off quickly, if you were so lucky.
Sukuna, who was just rough and tumble and aggressive and sullen all over, instead, cupped his hands around your waist like you were glass, his tongue lapping at your essence like a dog in heat. He reached up, still kissing your cunt, wrapping his fingers around the elastic band and tortuously pulling down, your slick pulling glossy strings down with it. You whimpered as the cool air hit your pussy, leaving you so exposed in front of him. Your body was flushed all over, but you still couldn’t help but feel embarrassed with your level of exposure, with Sukuna’s eyes devouring every last inch of you. You writhed in his grip, but his fingers held you still.
“Nah, don’t run, let me have a look.”
You shut your eyes as you felt his thumb rub over your lips, ghosting over your clit.
“So pretty,” he muttered, his hot breath hitting your wetness.
And all of you was so pretty. A sight to be seen, one he revealed in you being kind enough to show him. He watched as your back arched off the bed, your chest heaving up and down, skin glistening as his fingers and mouth worked you up, you shuddering as his mouth ghosts over your clit, your subtle thrusts forward as you tried aimlessly to grind yourself on his mouth, begging for a hint more of friction. It was cute, honestly, seeing you pretend not to be so needy.
Your whimpers felt like they had a direct line from your throat to his blood, fueling him, egging him on. He finally caved, wrapping his lips around your bud, and the moan that left your mouth was heaven to his ears. Your fingers ran through his hair, nails dragging across his scalp as you pulled his face closer to you, as if asking him to ruin you wholly. He smiled as you began to fall apart beneath him, your breaths turning into pants, your pussy squeezing around nothing, coaxing to be filled. He felt himself rutting into the bed frame in front of him, chasing the high he was currently giving you.
He sucked on your clit, and it pulled out another moan from you as you trembled beneath him. He kissed it gently, looking up at you with the most reverent, pussy-drunk eyes that made your stomach do flips. “You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.”
Baby? Your hand flew up to your mouth to muffle the wanton sounds you couldn’t control spilling from your mouth. Your eyes were screwed shut as you felt yourself tumbling, your breath fighting to escape your lungs, the coil in your stomach so fucking tight you thought you would die if it weren’t released. You felt Sukuna’s teeth nip at your bundle of nerves, and you choked back a scream, your hand pressing more firmly into your mouth as you reared your head back even deeper into your mattress.
Sukuna’s tongue clicked in the back of his throat. The gasps and moans coming from you, whether involuntarily or not, were quickly becoming some of his favorite sounds, and he wouldn’t stand for you taking that away from him.
You felt Sukuna’s hand reach up, wrapping around your wrist and pulling it down from your mouth. “Mhm, lemme hear you, princess.” His fingers intertwined with yours as he pushed his tongue deeper into you, still lapping over your clit as you sighed, the pleasure washing over you like waves.
“God, Sukuna, it’s – I’m gonna – ” You were so beside yourself you couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. You felt your mind start to go white, your breath coming out fast and sharp as the pressure became insurmountable.
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he soothed, still gripping your hand with one and rubbing the side of your thigh with the other. His pace never ceased, his tongue rolling small circles over your bud as you felt your climax building higher and higher. He tugged on your arm, prompting you to raise your head and locking eyes with him, his pupils so blown it felt like you were staring into midnight.
“Come for me, baby.”
A searing, white-hot flash, then stars, spinning as you felt your spine arch, your fingers squeezing his hand as you came, his mouth still kissing you through your orgasm. The release of pressure felt so good that you could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, your gasps deep like you were trying to catch your breath. You twitched as Sukuna continued to lap you up, his chin and lips wet from your release, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to push him away or if you needed him closer. “Kuna,” you moaned, too overstimulated to manage anything else out.
He kept circling, kept licking, kept kissing like a man addicted. Like it was his full-time job, like if he stopped, you would escape his grasp, fall just out of reach again, like things would go back to the way they were.
“Just one more, princess. You taste so damn good. Can you give me one more?”
You shook your head, crying out. “It’s too much, please – ”
You were cut off by a silent cry, a sob that wracked your body as he rolled over your puffy clit again, your body overheating with how much you were feeling at once. You heard Sukuna grunt as your fingers curled in his hair, as if you were trying to ground yourself in his pink tufts. You whimpered out his name again, your second climax rapidly approaching.
“One more, baby, I need it. Please, just give me one more.”
It’s like his voice was a trigger with how responsive your body was to it. You gasped as your second orgasm wrecked your body, your thighs shaking as they wrapped around Sukuna’s head. His entire being was light from the pressure and essence of you all over his tongue; he felt deluded. Your eyes fluttered shut as your head lolled to the side, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to steady yourself, your entire body still buzzing from the two orgasms he pulled from you with just his mouth.
He pressed one last kiss to your pussy, and crawled up from his kneeling position, his body hovering over you. He wiped his mouth with his hand, licking up the last bit of you as you looked down at your figure, his smile bigger than you had seen it. The moonlight streaming from your window cast an angelic glow over your body, your skin practically illuminated as he drank your figure in.
“So gorgeous,” he whispered, leaning back down to press kisses against your neck. “You’re so beautiful. You did so well, princess.”
You moaned lightly, rolling your head back to give him more access. He kept kissing along your jaw as he spoke. “Are you ok? Was that too much?”
You opened your eyes, your half-lidded irises trailing over your project partner’s face. The same face that stared at you so sullenly, whose eyes flashed an angry red when you dared to talk back to him in the library, whose jaw clenched when you’d even entertained the idea of being interested in someone else, from whose mouth dripped nicknames and praises and words that made your stomach churn and pussy flutter, was now leaning above you, shirtless in his tanned and inked glory, asking if you were ok, attraction coming off his skin in heat waves.
You brought your hand up to his chest, your fingers daintily coming around the back of his neck, gently pulling him closer to you for a kiss. His mouth met yours, his hand resting between the juncture of your jaw and neck, cradling you as if you were something fragile. You pulled at his bottom lip, biting gently as you let go, looking at him with eyes coated in a mist of lust.
“Ryo, I need you.”
His world stopped. He became so painfully aware of his dick, aching, hard as a rock pressing against the seam of his pants, the front already damp from pre-cum that he felt his whole body vibrate. The veins in his arms popped as his grip tightened in the sheets below you. He thought he misheard you, but the look on your face and the need in your tone couldn’t be mistaken.
“You – ”
“I need you,” you repeated, leaning up. Your hands moved to the bottom hem of your white tank, pulling it over your head and leaving you in nothing but the lacy black bra that cupped your curves just right. You saw Sukuna’s throat move in a swallow, his eyes flicking between your chest and face, like he didn’t know what to look at.
He leaned forward, stalking toward you like a tiger, and you leaned back in tandem until the back of your head hit the pillow, and you were inches apart. You took a sharp inhale when you felt his heaviness pressing against your leg. His voice was strained as you spoke.
“Are you sure?”
You bit your lip, nodding. Your bra strap slipped off your shoulder, and his eyes tracked it like he was hunting. He rocked back, kneeling on your bed, his fingers nimbly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans as a shadow crossed his face, his features impossibly sharper and eyes dark like dying stars, glinting in the night.
“Show me.”
Your pussy clenched. Your mouth went slightly dry. “What?”
“Show me how much you need me.”
This cocky motherfucker. Your breath was shaky. The tension had been built so high up that you couldn’t separate your gazes of fear of shifting the veil, removing yourselves from this singular moment where it was just you and him, eyes boring into each other, fires burning so passionately and breaths so aligned it was as if there was only one in the room to share.
Slowly, you brought a hand down toward your center, aching and leaking and begging to be filled, and deliberately took two of your fingers, spreading your folds, and began to rub, warming yourself up but keeping your eyes locked on him.
Sukuna’s inhale was sharp as he slid his belt out of his pants, swiftly taking them off and began palming himself over his boxes, his tip beading pre-cum and growing harder by the second as he watched you touch yourself. He ran a thumb over his tip, and you saw his abdomen contract, his Adonis belt sharp and mouthwatering and oh so tempting as you traced a vein down, disappearing into the black band barely obscuring the last part of Sukuna’s toned body. His dick was upright, flushed against his abs, and you felt your walls flutter as you looked back up at him, his jaw clenched so tight as he tried to control himself.
You touching yourself wasn’t enough, not after the ecstasy he’d given you only moments prior. You needed more, needed him, in you, filling you up, forcing you to chase that high of pleasure again. You settled for dipping a finger in, your head softly hitting the back of the pillow as your mouth opened, forming a small ‘o’ as your gasps came out in little pants.
Somewhere in your haze, Sukuna had discarded his boxers, leaving himself fully exposed to you, his dick flushed and red and erect in all its glory. He stroked it up and down, matching the pace of your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, as if transfixed. The wet, slick sounds in the room made you want to turn away in shame, but Sukuna knew you, knew your body and reactions, too well.
He shook his head, his voice deep. “Eyes on me, princess.”
You wanted to cry in protest, but you kept going, barely holding your head up to stay focused on him, on his irritatingly handsome face, his eyes, which gave away how much he was affected by you, even if he didn’t want to admit it. You felt your free hand go up to hold yourself, clutching at your breast as your finger and thumb rolled over your nipple through the lace, your body begging for another form of stimulation as you remained locked under Sukuna’s gaze.
You added another finger, trying to simulate an iota of sensation that Sukuna would, but it still wasn’t satisfying. You pressed up, curling, trying to hit your sweet spot, but you couldn’t get there, no matter how hard you tried. “Ryo,” you whined, dragging out his name in a way that made his dick twitch and body shudder. “Please, stop teasing. I need you.”
Fuck. Your words wrapped around him, seeping into his pores and entering his nervous system like a drug. He was an addict, addicted to you, to your voice, to the scrunch of your nose, to the way you looked sprawled on your bed. Every inch of you, he craved, wanted to know intimately like a painter knows his subject. He watched intently as your fingers dipped inside you, and his heart hammered at the idea of sheathing himself in you, the thought making his head rush.
He crawled forward, coming closer to you, capturing your breath in another kiss. He pulled back and took your hand you had touched yourself with, still glistening and wet from your slick, and brought it to his mouth, sucking your taste off each of your fingers, all the while staring at you with a gaze that had you at a loss for words.
He let go of your fingers with a pop, then lowered himself to hover over you, reaching down to line himself up with your entrance. He rubbed his tip between your folds, and you moaned at the simple act. Sukuna hissed, trying not to bust when he hadn’t even gotten the chance to sink into you yet. He grunted, whispering your name. “Tell me if it hurts.”
You nodded, too turned on to do anything but. He breathed out, then, slowly, pushed in.
“Fuck!” He grunted. He’d barely made it through your first ring of muscle, and your walls were so tight, pussy gripping onto him like a vice, he was worried if he went any deeper, he’d finish prematurely. Your hands immediately scrambled to his bare back, your nails digging into the muscle as you gasped at the feeling of him entering you. You knew he was big, but Jesus Christ, you were worried he would split you in two.
You hung off his back as he paused, searching your face for inklings of pain or signs of discomfort, you both panting as your chests rubbed together. His stopping felt like torture. “Keep going,” you breathed out.
“You’re gonna kill me, princess,” he muttered, but obliged, pushing more of himself in until he bottomed out with a groan, your walls tight and sticky and warm and every bit as narcotic as he thought they would be. He felt he could die here, trapped between your walls, with your wide, watery eyes staring up at him, lips swollen and glossy with spit from your kisses, and so beautiful underneath him he felt like an idiot for taking so long to realize.
“You okay?”
You nodded, fingernails digging deeper into his back, and he groaned at the pain that brought him such pleasure. “Please, Ryo, move.”
He didn’t need to be told twice; his hips moved in sharp, snapping forward motions that made your eyes flutter closed and move in sync with him. Each thrust sent you both deeper and deeper into oblivion, your head so foggy all you could do was moan as his tip kissed your cervix, so deep inside you, you almost wanted to scream.
His hand and mouth found your chest, his lips kissing and sucking and biting at the chest above your chest as his fingers worked blindly to unclip your bra. The lacy black material fell to the wayside as he moved down, rolling one nipple between his fingers and the other over his tongue. The combination of his size filling you up so perfectly, and his fingers and mouth on you, left you babbling, chants falling out of your mouth as you felt your body shake. Your nails scratched down his back, trying to release the pent-up tension in your body in any way you can.
You felt your voice leave your body when his hand came down to push your leg up, pistoning deeper at an angle that left you seeing stars. He grunted, pressing his leg up as he hit a gummy patch in your walls, and you screamed his name, too fucked to care about your volume. “There she is.”
“Fuck, Ryo,” you sobbed, feeling past the point of no return. Each drag of his dick along your walls, feeling each vein rub against your skin, the slick wet sounds, and the smell of sex permeating the air, all sent you spiraling, tumbling down uncontrollably into your climax, this time building like a boulder in your stomach.
Sukuna felt it coming as you squeezed around him. He maintained his pace, bringing his mouth up closer to your ear, kissing along your neck and jaw as he spoke.
“Whose dick is this?”
It was like the gasp was ripped from your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer; it might’ve sent you over the edge. You warbled out a mumble, but it wasn’t enough, not for Sukuna.
“Nah, I’ve been dealing with that smart mouth all semester. Don’t get all quiet on me now.” You felt him drag his thumb down, rubbing small circles over your bundle of nerves. You would kill him if you didn’t want to come so badly, tears started to fall, sliding down your cheeks. He only smiled, kissing the trails away, the masochist.
“C’mon, baby. Whose dick is this?”
A sob wracked your body. “It’s mine,” you cried out.
“That’s right, it’s all yours. I'm all yours, ‘nd only yours.” He punctuated each word with a thrust you could feel in your throat, your clit screaming from his thumb, and body wound so tight, you could feel yourself beginning to fall. He felt his climax coming too, his dick so hard it felt like it would fall off, and he leaned down, swallowing your cries in a kiss before whispering to you again.
“Now come for me, princess. Please.”
This last orgasm shook you to your core, ransacking your body and leaving nothing left. You gushed out, a high-pitched moan shuddering from your body as he kept thrusting, his orgasm chasing swiftly after yours. The feeling of your constricting around him, your juices flowing from your last climax, you cum mixing and acting like a lubricant, all made him feel crazy. His thrusts got sloppy and erratic as he neared. “Fuck, baby, you did so good, you feel so fucking good.”
“Ryo,” you whispered sleepily, every ounce of energy drained from your body as you came down from your high.
He looked up at you.
“Come inside me, baby.”
Shit. You looked so perfect, so fucked out, so otherworldly as you stared back up at him. You had done so well, had taken him so well, he almost faltered. “You –”
“Please, Ryo.”
Fuck, you’d be the death of him. He leaned forward, feeling so good he damn near whimpered into your neck, his face twisted as his hips stuttered as he came, filling you with hot ropes, the white substance leaking from your pussy as you both groaned from the feeling of him finishing inside you.
With a shaky breath, he lowered himself carefully, still lodged between your thighs, his weight resting on you but not crushing you, enveloping you safely. He wiped another tear from your cheek as you caught your breath, your eyes barely open. He kissed each eyelid lightly to not disturb you. “You ok?”
You nodded, too overwhelmed to bother forming a sentence. You two stayed like that, bodies connected, warmth transferred as you twitched around him, still so, so sensitive. Without thinking, your hands went up to his chest, tracing the sharp lines of ink that ran across his torso, up towards his neck, down towards his hip bones. You felt his shift inside you, still half hard from what had just transpired. You shook your head as he smiled without remorse, tugging you closer. “You’re impossible.”
He only kissed you in response, this one gentle, and slow, careful as he gently stroked your side. He stole your breath, pulling back and leaving you dizzier than previously.
“You always this touchy after sex?” You asked, winded and delirious from the past hours’ events.
He shook his head. “Just with you. Only with you.”
You sighed as he finally pulled out, his warmth leaving you feeling empty and already craving his touch again. He stood, heading to your bathroom and grabbed a wet, warm cloth, coming back and wiping you down carefully. Only then did he climb back into your bed, pulling the covers over your bodies, as if the heat you two generated wasn’t enough to keep you both warm, and pulled you into his chest, your limbs tangled, so intertwined it was hard to tell where he ended, and you began.
The sleep that overtook you both was the most peaceful you’ve had in months.
You only arose the next morning when the sunlight streamed through your window, its rays casting a glow on your face as you stirred, your back absent of Sukuna’s large, muscled warmth. You took in a breath, rubbing your face with your hands, and were distressed at the makeup from last night smudged around your eyes.
You turned, covering your body with the loose-fitted sheet, and furrowed your brow at the smell of something being fried in your kitchen. You rolled out of bed, slipping on some clean underwear and a discarded hoodie littered on the floor, and padded out of your room, your stomach grumbling at the idea of breakfast.
You stopped short at the sight of Sukuna, in your kitchen, shirtless, hips resting against the stovetop as he fried eggs, two plates with buttered toast waiting to be served. Miso sat in the corner of the room, slightly miffed at the not-so-strange stranger in her kitchen but pleased she had been acknowledged and fed by someone. She meowed at your disheveled entrance like a disappointed roommate, keenly aware of what transpired last night.
Sukuna looked up, attuned to your arrival. His eyes shot down to your bare thighs, trying to conceal his smirk at the love bits you clearly hadn’t noticed yet. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You had the nerve to sound sheepish. You cleared your throat. “Uh, good morning.”
“More like afternoon. It’s past 12.”
“Oh.” You fiddled with the ends of your sleeve. “Right. Guess I was really tired.”
“Princesses need their beauty sleep, right?” He chided, flipping the eggs in the pan, their yolks a royal gold color.
You hummed, propping yourself up on the counter behind Sukuna as he turned his attention back to the stove. Your eyes widened, and you flushed at the red, raised marks like claw stripes on his back, and the memories of last night came rushing back in a wave of heat.
“Hey,” he murmured. Your head snapped up, and he stood in front of you, pressing a finger against your forehead. “Don’t get trapped in there. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Nothing.”
His eyebrows flicked up as he caged you in, his thick arms resting on the countertop on either side of you, bringing his face in close. “What’s wrong?”
It was evident he wasn’t gonna let this go. You bit your lip before asking. “What…is this? What are we now?”
His eyes widened in incredulity, but all he could do was laugh when he saw the earnestness in your face, the vulnerability in your question. He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You serious? Did you actually just ask me that?”
You shrugged. He stared harder.
“I meant everything I said to you. In the library, at the party, certainly last night.”
You flushed before prattling on. “I just thought – ”
He tsked. “Stop doing that. You think too much. Complicates shit.”
He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before turning back around, scooping the eggs out of the pan and serving them on top of the toast, bringing a plate and fork over to you. He took a bite of toast, chewing as he continued.
“Like I said last night, I’m all yours. And by the way you were screaming my name, I’d assume you feel the same.”
You scowled, your leg going out to kick him as he dodged, laughing at your antics. “You didn’t even ask me, dickhead.”
“Ask you what?”
“To be your girlfriend,” you mumbled shyly, kicking your feet as if you both hadn’t bared your souls to each other just last night.
Your chastity made him bite his inner cheek. You were too damn cute for your own good. “You want me too?”
You shrugged again, reaching for your toast. “Princess treatment, right?”
He smiled despite your feigned ambivalence. “Alright.” He grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, staring at you deeply with content and admiration and a mix of something else you weren’t quite ready to name, reflecting at you in his eyes.
He said your name like it was his favorite thing to hear. You hummed, as if telling him to proceed.
“Can I be your boyfriend?”
You smiled, flicking your brow up. He sighed, shaking his head.
“Please?”
The grin that stretched across your face made his heart skip a beat. You wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing his face closer to yours.
“Hmm, maybe I was right. You are a fast learner.”
His hands found your hips, rubbing small circles there as he grinned back, the type of grin he could only let you see.
a/n: and just like that, baby's first fic completed! i'm so proud and genuinely so grateful to have amazing readers whose comments fuel me and bring me life!! ilysm <33 i have a lot of ideas for new fics with new characters but fear not as frat!kuna will always hold a special place in my heart and i will def be writing more one shots of him and lovely reader :)) hope you guys enjoyed this and are willing to stick around with me for more content <3
description -> there wasn't much you and frat boy!sukuna ryomen had in common...except your mutual disdain for partner projects. (un)luckily for the two of you, fate has a way of bringing together the seemingly incompatible. but as the project continues and studying sessions involve less and less studying, you both discover you're learning more about yourselves than the subject matter at hand...
word count -> 14.5k
cw -> yearning || mutual pining || like, medium burn? || eventual smut || drinking || smoking || cursing || mean sukuna (but only if you squint) || side frat!gojo x nerd!reader || jealousy || angst (it's getting serious) || resolved tension and feelings
part eight || part nine || part ten
Sukuna woke up with a pounding headache and a sickness in his stomach that a hangover couldn’t rival.
He cast a sideways glance at the sunlight peaking through his blinds, a silver of the window visible, showcasing the outside world in a much better mood than he could hope to muster. His clothes from last night lay in the same pile he left them in when he stripped and climbed into bed, too drunk to do anything but lie there and let sleep overtake him. His mouth was dry, tasting of whatever liquor he’d mixed to get him in this state, but all he could remember was the feeling of you against him.
For one brief, blissful moment, everything felt correct. Months of feelings captured when he let his instincts take over his restraint, taking two steps forward and fully falling into you, pressing his lips against yours in a feverish state.
And you had responded in kind. He could still feel the way your nails dragged down the nape of his neck, fingers buried in his pinkish locks. He could still hear your body’s response, keening into him as if you two together were natural. His thigh between your leg, sliding in like a piece of a puzzle, your mouth slotted against his, his hands gripping your waist, and you, in the center of it all, so reactive and responsive to his movements.
And just as quickly as it came, it vanished. Fucked up by a drunken decision on a Sunday night that left him waking up in a bed that wasn’t his own with a girl who didn’t deserve to suffer the repercussions of his indecision and insecurity.
Toji, ever the enabler, accompanied Sukuna and some of their other frat brothers to their favorite dive spot, where the drinks were cheap, and the bartenders poured heavy, especially for customers they knew whose pockets were deep and got deeper the more drinks they had. Sukuna, by nature, was a favorite customer, only rivaled by Satoru, both of whom had closed shop one too many times.
It was late – too late to be drinking this much on a Sunday night, but Sukuna couldn’t bring himself to care as the bartender poured him another drink from the well. Toji, in a rare occurrence of rationality, cut himself off after the third drink. His eyes flicked over to the entrance of the bar, and they narrowed at what he saw.
“You’ve got trouble headed your way.”
Sukuna’s head turned, and Uraume’s clipped bob entered his vision. He sighed, ambivalent about her arrival, turning back to his drink. “Whatever.”
“Haven’t you been dodging her texts?”
“Yup.”
Toji stared at him incredulously, shaking his head as he lifted his glass, downing the rest of the drink in one swallow. “You’re ridiculous.” He slid his glass against the bar top and reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a few crumpled ones.
Sukuna side-eyed him. “Where’re you going?”
Toji glanced back at Uraume, who spotted both men at the bar and began to make her way over. “Away from whatever shitstorm of bad decisions you’re about to make.”
Just as quickly as Toji exited, Uraume entered, flicking her hair over her shoulder and ordering two shots. She placed one gingerly in front of Sukuna, saying, “You look like you need this.”
Sukuna was positively sure he didn’t, but couldn’t focus long enough to form a sentence to argue as he wrapped his fingers around the shot, lifting it in cheers and clinking glasses with her before tapping the bottom gently on the bar, tipping his head back to down the clear, burning liquid.
Uraume followed suit, stacking their glasses and looking over at Sukuna. “So. Why’re you here on a Sunday night?”
He scoffed at the attempt at small talk. “Could ask you the same thing.”
Uraume shrugged, her eyes trailing. “Probably the same as you. Looking for a distraction.”
A distraction. That’s exactly what it was. A distraction, and a hazy-headed decision that led to him abandoning Toji at the bar, and waking up in Uraume’s bed, back slick with sweat and regret as she slept soundlessly next to him.
It was an asshole move, and he knew it. He knew as soon as he left the bar that he would regret it, but it wasn’t enough to get him to stop. He wasn’t sure why. He’d never been one to hesitate. And when it was offered up so casually, who was he to refuse when you and he had nothing tying you together? No loyalties, no pledges of abstinence or celibacy, no titles of girlfriend, boyfriend, or friends with benefits. Until last night, you hadn’t even kissed yet.
And now?
Sukuna wasn’t sure if he could even call you a friend.
All you had were close encounters and yearning glances from across rooms, hushed tones and subtle touches that lingered like the smell of your shampoo and the musk of his cologne. Momentary pleasure followed by a week of guilt, plaguing him like whatever sickness you had caught last week.
And just like that, his mind was back on you. You, and your dejected face as you watched the grimace form on his. The way you fought against your lower lip wobbling, your waterline dampening against your will. He wasn’t so bold or full of himself to declare your heart crushed, but he knows he saw something break behind your eyes, and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to repair it.
He reached for his phone, battery almost empty from last night’s negligence, and saw no response from you. He would’ve been embarrassed by the multiple texts going on unanswered with anyone else, but with you, he couldn’t give a damn.
sukuna | I know I fucked up but please let me explain.
sukuna | I’m so fucking sorry.
sukuna | Please let me talk to you.
sukuna | I regret hurting you but I don’t regret kissing you.
Timestamped at two in the morning; all left on delivered. He figured as much, considering how wounded you looked when you left him standing on the patio. He winced at the last text he sent, too drunk to come up with something better, something more soothing, but it wasn’t like it wasn’t true. Considering how hard he was when he felt you pressed up against him, he figured you knew it too.
He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned, feeling ill in more ways than one. It didn’t help that an unwelcome knock and entry of his white-haired friend timed itself so perfectly with his current state.
Gojo bounded over, propping himself on Sukuna’s bed, irritably chipper. “Well, don’t you look positively sunshiney.”
Sukuna glared at him from beneath his comforter. “Get. Out.”
“Y’know, maybe, if you’d just taken my advice when I gave it to you weeks ago, we wouldn’t be in this situation. But here we are. Feelings, trampled on, numbers, blocked – ”
“She hasn’t blocked me. At least, yet. Semester’s not over, and we’re project partners. She can’t.”
“Oh, I think she has the license to kill you after what you put her through.” Gojo retorted, tone playful, but eyes serious. “You really hurt her last night.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Sukuna snapped, sitting up in his bed, a menacing tone lacing every word. “Get the fuck outta my face. Who are you to tell me that, anyway? Some idiot who’s taken her on one date?”
“Last time I checked, it’s one more than you’ve been on with her.”
Sukuna felt his fist twitch beside him. He only glared in response.
“I don’t know why you’re glowering at me. I’m not the one who fucked up. I’m not the one who wanted to have their cake and eat it too. I’m not the one who – ”
“Yeah, yeah, I got your point, dickhead. I know I fucked up.”
“At least you’re not totally dense.” Gojo eyed him up and down, judgment oozing from his gaze. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”
Sukuna exhaled, casting a sideways glance at his window, still obscured by his curtains, and yet the midday sun persisted, a sliver of light illuminating his room.
“She won’t even talk to me. What am I supposed to do?”
Gojo shrugged. “Dunno, but it better be something good.”
Sukuna’s scowl deepened. “You’ve butt your head in every part of this since the beginning, and now you decide to stop talking?”
“Yeah, I gave both of you my advice and look where that’s got us. Maybe if I shut up, it’ll encourage you two to sit and actually figure out what you both want. Y’know, communicate. Like adults do.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not laughing. You shouldn’t be either. You better come up with something that sweeps her off her feet before she decides I’m clearly the better option.”
“Gojo?”
“Yes?”
“Get the fuck out my room.”
|||
Utahime, Yuki, and Shoko both watched with concerned eyes as you recounted everything they had missed – from the sickness, to him hooking up with Uraume the following day, to the cold shoulder treatment and the kiss on the patio. You watched as their jaws dropped lower and lower, and despite your overwhelming sadness and anger at him, you felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you recounted your shared moment outside the party.
“He did what?” Utahime leaned forward, flushed at your hushed retelling. “Oh, my God.”
Shoko placed her hand on your shoulder, nodding solemnly. “I am so proud of you. A lesser woman would have folded.”
“But I did fold! The fucking kiss, I – ” You buried your face in your hands. “I shouldn’t have kissed him.”
“Was it good?”
You flushed as Shoko and Utahime admonished Yuki’s question, but you felt heat rise to your cheeks from the answer that immediately popped into your brain.
It was fucking amazing.
You weren’t totally inexperienced. You had had your fair share of kisses in your lifetime, but none were quite as passionate as what you experienced on the patio that night.
Last night, after getting ice cream with Satoru and him dropping you off at your apartment, you laid in bed, wide awake, replaying what had transpired between you and Sukuna by the nanosecond, frame by frame.
His heated gaze. His hands, so big and hungry as they gripped your hips, squeezing, kneading, as if he was trying to fuse your bodies into one. His mouth, setting the pace, insistent, not overpowering, sucking and nipping at your lips so gently, yet wanton lust bled through every breath. His chest pressed against yours, heart beating wildly, the two of you generating enough heat to warm a small village. That warmth pooled at your stomach, sinking lower and lower as you felt him drag your body over his thigh, thick and sinewy with muscle pressed against your core and overwhelming all of your senses, sending your brain into overdrive.
You felt yourself get flustered thinking about it, and you hated yourself for reacting that way.
“It doesn’t matter whether the kiss was good or not; what matters is that he hurt her.” Utahime pulled you into her, trying to comfort you as best she could, running a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
You mumbled out an empty thanks. It was nice to have friends who cared so much, but you could barely sort out your own feelings on the matter, let alone what you were going to do to proceed forward.
It was Saturday morning, and you and Sukuna’s normally scheduled study session had been abandoned, considering last night's events. His unanswered texts and calls weighed heavily on your phone as you contemplated what you should do next.
sukuna | i regret hurting you but i don’t regret kissing you.
You remember the sick, giddy feeling in your chest when you read that message when you woke up this morning. You wanted to scream, and cry, and berate him for making you feel so small, but you couldn’t help but crave his body on yours again, because as awful as you felt afterward, you didn’t regret it either.
He made you feel dirty, like someone to be used and disposed of – but that damn kiss…
Could it all have really meant nothing? Were you truly that simple, that one kiss could send you weak in the knees, abandoning your morals, what you stood for, ridding you of your self-confidence, for a man you’d only known for three months?
The logistics of it all sent your already reeling mind into a whirlwind. You didn’t understand how feelings could be so compartmentalized, for a guy to be able to kiss someone with that much fervor, knowing their date, who they’d slept with less than a week prior, was standing a couple of hundred feet away from them.
The hypocrisy almost made you want to reach out and apologize to Uraume, who was nothing but kind to you when she made small talk at the bar that night. Neither of you deserved this, but when whatever you and Sukuna have — or had — didn’t even have a label, what would you even apologize for? You knew they weren’t dating; nobody needed to tell you that the resident campus terror didn’t date, but you couldn’t help but feel like you owed her something, if not conciliation for the embarrassment of a night Friday was.
After Utahime, Shoko, and Yuki tired themselves out from their crusade against Sukuna they nobly took on for you, they left you to your own devices, both a blessing and a curse. The more you contemplated, the worse the knot in your stomach tightened.
You looked back on his text with disdain, your frown deepening as you read the messages over again. You shut your phone off, scooped up Miso, then locked yourself in your room, attempting to distract yourself from the horrors of yesterday. As the day went on and throughout the evening, while you tried to study, you kept hearing your phone buzz, and you got so fed up, you tossed it under your pillow, trying to force all your feelings down every time you saw his name pop up on your screen.
However, the universe seemed insistent on reminding you of everything, as Miso started meowing incessantly, perched in the corner of your room. You tried to ignore her calls for attention, focusing on a student’s paper you had to finish grading this weekend, when her meows started turning to howls, you whipped around, scowling at your cat. “What?” You snapped. “What do you want?”
Her tail curled, and it was then you faltered, seeing what she was sitting on top of.
Sukuna’s hoodie, still folded in the corner of your room, where you and he both left it the weekend you were sick.
Your lip twitched, and you locked eyes with Miso, who only blinked innocently in response. You huffed. “Traitor.”
You were restless that night, tossing and turning, and replaying Friday night as if it was a movie being projected overhead, thoughts and feelings too vivid for comfort. You groaned, burying yourself in comforters and pillows, and tried to ignore the heat in your stomach at the thought of his hands on you again.
The next morning brought about another flurry of texts. The unread messages from Sukuna were piling up, and you knew he realized you were adamant on ignoring him. You scrolled past, determined on not dealing with this problem until you had to, and instead went to see what Satoru had messaged you.
satoru | you know he’s crashing out right
you | Good.
you | He should be.
satoru | whew, icy
satoru | i love it
satoru | how long are you gonna ignore him for
you | Optimistically? Forever.
you | Realistically? Until class on Tuesday.
Satoru’s contact bubbled in and out of frame before he called, and you picked up the phone. “What’s up?”
“Just got tired of texting, and I wanted to hear your voice.” You heard a scuffle in the background as Gojo adjusted, then a door shut, presumably as he entered his bedroom. “How ya doin’, angel?”
You sighed. “Definitely better than Friday night. Thank you again for the ice cream.”
“Of course. Had to make sure my favorite girl was doing okay.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re laying it on thick, Satoru. I’m still not gonna sleep with you.”
“But wouldn’t it be such great revenge?” You could almost see Gojo’s maniacal grin through the phone as he joked. “He’d be so mad.”
“Well, he would have no moral high ground to stand on, considering what he did.” You picked at your nails, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear.
“Yeah, well, he definitely knows he fucked up.”
“Please, he’s only upset that he got caught.” You scoffed, lips downturned into a pout.
“At least you know you mean something to him,” Satoru offered.
“Yeah, whatever,” you grumbled. “He doesn’t care about me.”
“That’s not true.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Um, do you not remember what happened, or do you need a refresher?”
“Trust me, I remember. I just don’t think someone who ‘doesn’t care about you’ would be blowing up your phone and texting you nonstop for the past few days. I’m surprised he hasn’t broken your door down yet.”
“And how would you know about the texts?” You drawled out.
Gojo deadpanned through the phone. “Angel. I live with him. Trust me, I know.”
In truth, Satoru had never seen the degree of crash-out Sukuna was displaying. If they thought Sukuna’s bad mood a few weeks ago was dreadful, this mood swing sent the pledge class into hiding. When he wasn’t checking his phone every ten minutes, he was scowling at anyone who entered within a five-foot radius. Toji and Gojo were the only two who were able to enter his berth without losing their heads, and even then, Sukuna could only stand their presence for a few minutes before he stormed out, irritated at the knowing glances Toji and Gojo exchanged. On the bright side, probably stemming from the fear and exhaustion he’s seen in pledges’ frames, Gojo has never seen the frat house cleaner.
A twisted part of you revelled in the fact that Sukuna was as affected as you were. You hummed in satisfaction, to which you heard Gojo chuckle. “Maybe send him a message, just so he knows you're alive. If not for yourself, for my sake. I can’t deal with this tantrum for much longer.”
“I refuse to apologize or be held responsible for the behavior of a man-child.” You sniped. “If he wants to talk to me, he’ll have to beg.”
You heard the smugness in Gojo’s tone. “Careful what you wish for.”
After getting off your call with him, you sat, contemplating his words as you read over your notes in preparation for your lectures on Monday. While you still hadn’t read any of the numerous texts Sukuna had sent, you thought about opening and responding countless times. You were sympathetic to the plight of innocent pledges, but you also knew your anger was justified. It was strange, knowing there was some care Sukuna had for you, even if all his recent actions couldn’t demonstrate it. But you think back to the soup he made, the few ice pops left in the freezer, the lattes that sat ready for every study session, and his stupid hoodie that still sat in the corner of your room. It couldn’t mean nothing, and you knew, deep down, it didn’t.
But even then, you knew what you wanted. You couldn’t be with someone where the physicality of it all was easy, but the words and actions were too hard. Regardless of your feelings for him, you wanted somebody you wanted you just as much, if not more. Even at your most angry, you didn’t ever seriously consider hooking up with someone else, and not out of some misplaced loyalty to Sukuna – you just couldn’t understand how someone could claim to be so interested in one person and sleep with someone else in such a short time frame. It grated on your nerves how all-consuming your stupid little crush became. It wasn’t like you didn’t have other options, but when Sukuna was right there, with his coral hair that curled slightly when it was damp, and his tattoos that contrasted with his tanned skin, and his frustratingly handsome smile that he only showed when he was feeling vulnerable…how could you be interested in another person?
You knew Sukuna didn’t owe anything to you; the two of you were “just friends”, after all. But he had a way of making you feel like you were someone that mattered to him, someone that he cared for, and someone he potentially wanted more with. For one moment, the kiss made it all feel possible.
But the platitudes you’ve heard so many times echoed through your head like chants in a temple. If he wanted to, he would. Actions speak louder than words. Hymns you’ve used more times than you can count in feeble attempts to protect yourself, and look how that turned out. You would think yourself into a stupor trying to parse his behavior like a psychologist, so you opted to stop thinking about it altogether. You would stop worrying about what would happen when you saw each other on campus, or how you would be civil enough to finish working on your project together. You decided to nip the problem in the bud, to stop this agonizing over a man who sent you into such a spiral. You opened your phone, scrolling past the number of texts he’d sent, and drafted one of your own.
you | Good evening. I’m texting to let you know that I will be finishing the project on my own time and no longer require your assistance. Your work in certain sections is appreciated and will be acknowledged with your name on the final submission. There is no need to further communicate with me, so at your earliest convenience, please delete my number. Good luck with your future endeavors.
You scanned it one more time before nodding in satisfaction, sending the message, and tossing your phone to the side. Not two minutes later, your phone began to ring.
Sukuna’s contact took over your phone screen, and you watched as the rings ran out, sending him to voicemail. A text pinged at the top of your screen.
sukuna | pick up your damn phone
His call rang again, and this time, you rejected it, sending him straight to voicemail. Not to be deterred, he called again, and you huffed, angrily shooting him another text.
you | Leave me the fuck alone.
you | I’m trying to ignore you.
sukuna | well you’re doing a great fucking job at that
you | I don’t know who you think you’re texting with that attitude, but it’s certainly not me.
you | Try that again.
sukuna | you’re not finishing this project by yourself
you | Watch me.
you | I’d rather chew glass than have to sit in your presence.
You waited for a text in response, but your messages sat unread. As the sun set on Sunday evening, and you prepared yourself for the long week ahead, you waited for another text from him to pop up on your screen, but nothing ever arrived. It wasn’t until the next morning, when you plopped yourself down in the first lecture of the day, that you opened your computer and saw an email waiting for you:
It has come to my attention that there seems to be an inequitable distribution of work amongst this particular partner group. Normally, I would leave disagreements to be settled between students, given you are no longer in kindergarten, but considering the strange, and might I add surprising, nature of the request I received, I felt it necessary to weigh in.
I felt I made it very clear the fair division of work for this project was imperative to earning a passing mark. Regardless of each student’s writing proficiencies and varying levels of engagement in our sessions, it is required that both students’ work be evident in the final submission. Clear evidence of a single student’s handiwork will result in immediate failure for both group members.
I hope the two of you can reach a consensus quickly, considering the final submission is due in just little over two weeks.
Best of luck,
Prof. M. Yaga
You blinked. Surely, this could not be in response to the text you sent?
But as you rechecked your inbox, you saw a post-script email, addressed only to you from Prof. Yaga:
You cannot complete this project by yourself, no matter how much you want to. I am expecting to be able to see your partner’s work evident in this submission. I would hate to fail such a talented student.
You saw red. Your nostrils flared. You felt your fingers twitch over the keys dangerously, and you fought the urge to send the most passive-aggressive email back to Sukuna. Instead, in a blind rage, you snatched your phone off the desk and marched outside the classroom, shoving through the double doors into the quietest part of the campus quad, dialing Sukuna’s number, ready to give him an earful.
The line had just barely been picked up before you began yelling into the receiver.
“Fuck you! Fuck you, you pig-headed, low-life, entitled piece of shit!” You hissed, not caring to police your tone in front of the few students milling about the grassy area. “You told on me? You tattled to our professor? Like a fucking child?” You laughed vindictively, no humor evident in your tone. “Are we in preschool? You can’t deal with the consequences of your own actions, like some spoiled brat? Oh, fuck you.” Your tone was frosted as you repeated yourself, insult after insult spewing from your mouth, built up anger for days now coming out like a geyser.
Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, Sukuna remained silent, simply listening to your battering and berating of him with the smallest, smug grin on his face. Yeah, he was getting cursed within an inch of his life, and yeah, he could feel your vitriol spewing through his phone’s speakers. He knew your voice was loud enough through the receiver for his surrounding frat brothers, casually lounging on the sofa nearby, to hear your insults and throw worried glances back, wondering if this exchange was bordering on domestic abuse. But judgment be damned, he couldn’t care less. He was just glad to hear you talking to him, saying his name, and acknowledging his existence. The radio silence was eating him alive, and the anger in your tone told him that you still cared – he wouldn’t have known what to do if you were apathetic to it all.
He waited until you had tired yourself out, your heavy breathing coming through the receiver, before he responded. “I’m just trying to make sure I’m carrying my load of the work,” he responded, trying to keep his tone level. He knew that sensing a hint of mirth in his tone meant you would send him packing, and he was already in the dog house for the stunt he pulled last week.
“Oh, sure. You didn’t care about that at all when you suggested I do all the work a few months ago.” You responded snippily.
“That was then. Before I cared about you.”
Your lip twitched. “You mean before you cared about your grade in this class?”
“No, I mean you.” Sukuna ignored the shocked glances his frat brothers sent him, wondering if he was talking about the same person who was just cursing his bloodline for generations to come. “I care about you.”
You fought against the flutter in your chest, a flurried betrayal of wings battering against your ribs. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” Sukuna responded firmly. “I’m gonna prove it to you, I’m serious about you.”
You exhaled. “Yeah, well, good luck with that.”
“I already fucked it up once. I’m not gonna do it again.”
You frowned, not sure whether to trust his words. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Sukuna hummed. “You’ll see it.”
You twisted your lips, partially stunned for words, partially refusing to say anything else lest you embarrass yourself. Sukuna took the opportunity to fill the silence you created.
“Do you want to meet in the library later to finish up the conclusion? I’ll be free the rest of the day.”
“I have plans,” you cut out, lying through your teeth.
“Fine. We’ll plan around you. When are you free?”
“Never.”
“Hm. That’s not conducive at all. What about 7:00?”
“I’m going to a seminar called ‘go fuck yourself’.”
“Sounds stupid.”
“You’re stupid.”
“Maybe you should go to a comeback seminar instead, do they have those?”
You scoffed. “Goodbye.” You pulled your phone away from your ear to hang up, but his voice called out before you could hit the end button.
“The sooner we finish this, the sooner you can stop seeing me.”
You closed your eyes, sighing. You hated when he was right.
“I’ll see you at 7, then?”
“Whatever, fine.”
“See you then.” He hung up the phone, and you stared at the dark screen, apprehension painted across your face. You didn’t have time to be frustrated by his insistence, not when your lecture had started five minutes ago. You grumbled, heading back inside to prepare for class.
Back at the frat house, Sukuna grabbed a hoodie, tossing it over his shoulder, and snatched his backpack resting on the floor nearby. He heard Gojo call back from the foyer. “Where are you going? You don’t have class until noon.”
Sukuna grunted in response. “Gotta see about a girl.”
He slammed the door on his way out, missing the knowing grin Gojo had on his face.
|||
Sukuna sat as the population of the library dwindled down to a few straggling students, the mood somber as the lone souls sat scattered across the floors of the library, the mountain of work surrounding them dauntingly high. While the rest of the students’ faces were sullen, Sukuna’s eyebrow ticked up as the clock’s minute hand shifted forward another notch.
8:09 PM.
No text. No call.
He would laugh if he weren’t so irritated.
He knew what you were doing. He wasn’t surprised by it either. You were simply calling back to his ignorant actions when you first met – his egregiously late showing to the first study session you had together. One would argue it’s poetic justice, forcing him to taste his own medicine. He’d expected nothing less from you.
What he wasn’t expecting was for you to show up as late as you did in his hoodie.
The shades might’ve been overkill, considering the sky was a deep shade of purplish black by the time you waltzed into the library, finally gracing him with your presence. The large frames covered your face, a difference compared to the glasses you normally wear – he missed the way those sat on your face.
You stalked toward your usual table, and Sukuna bit the inside of his cheek, neglecting to comment on how cute you looked when you attempted to be brooding. You paused as you came across the empty chair sitting beside him. He raised his eyebrow in response. “Nice to see you made your way here. Did you get lost?”
You didn’t respond. Instead, you gazed past him, grimacing at the open chair next to him instead of across the table where it normally rested. You walked around his sitting figure, approaching the empty chair from behind and picking it up, trotting both the chair and you around to the other side of the table as Sukuna looked on in bewilderment. The four legs of the chair hit the library’s floor with a resounding thunk, and you plopped yourself down, folding your arms over your chest. He could feel your withering gaze, only concealed by the dark tint of your shades.
Your head ticked slightly to the side. “Here now. Let’s get this over with.”
Sukuna blew out a breath. He knew you were going to make this difficult, but he wasn’t prepared for how difficult you were going to be. No sense in beating around the bush, especially if this is already how you were acting. “We should talk about last Friday.”
You shook your head. “No.”
“We need to talk about it.”
“We don’t need to do anything but finish this damn project. And if we’re not gonna do that, then you wasted both of our time.”
“Fine. Then I’ll talk, and you can listen.”
“I’m not gonna sit here and listen to the excuses you scrambled to make.” You grabbed your bag, beginning to stand and exit, before you felt Sukuna’s hand grip your forearm. You head whipped back to glare at him, voice low. “Let. Go.”
“Let me explain.” His grip was like a vice, and as his fingers twitched, you could feel the slight, frantic desperation seeping through the pads of his digits. His eyes were still the hard, fire-forged red they usually were, but the centers were warm, as if lightened by the vulnerability he only seemed to be able to show you. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Please.”
The word sounded strange coming from his mouth, like it had been years since he’d uttered it. Your eyes met, his studying your face for signs of flight. You felt your features soften against their will. You hated how an earnest look and a pleading tone from him made you feel so weak and pliable.
You yanked your arm from his grip, dropping your bag and pushing your shades up your face. You folded your arms back across your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together, feigning strength in a moment you felt so little. “Fine. Explain.”
He took in a breath before beginning to talk. “I know I hurt you last week, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t matter, or that it – the kiss, I mean – didn’t mean anything to me, because it did.”
You pursed your lips, not giving him an inch. He scratched the back of his neck and continued.
“I did hook up with Uraume, and I’m not gonna make excuses for it. It was fucked. I know that. And it was more fucked that I kissed you like that. It wasn’t fair to either of you, but I wouldn’t take it back.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve made that extensively clear.” You took a deep inhale, attempting to regulate your nervous system, now firing on all cylinders. “What does it matter to you anyway? We don’t owe each other anything. We’re not together, and I thought we agreed — ”
“I swear to God, if you say ‘to be friends’, I’m gonna lose my shit.” He laughed humorlessly, his eyes sparking as his fingers threaded more aggressively through his hair. “Are you serious? I don’t know how much more obvious I can be.” He scoffed before stepping closer to you, his scent invading your senses, your glasses the last line of defense against his proximity. His gaze was too strong, too charged, too heated for you to maintain focus. You shifted down, looking off to the side, but he shook his head.
“Look at me.”
It was your turn to swallow. Time started to catch like molasses being poured out of a jar.
“I am looking at you,” you said, your voice reduced to a whisper.
“No,” he shook his head as he reached up toward your face. You instinctively flinched back, but his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the burning look in his eyes as he pulled your shades off, his gaze locking with yours as your neck tilted up to face him. “Look at me when I say this to you.”
You held your breath.
“I don’t wanna be your fucking friend.”
Exhale. Your chest rose and fell as his eyes flicked down to your mouth, slightly parted in surprise as his irises darkened. Flashes of the kiss ran across your mind like film strips in a projector, and you struggled to keep your breathing normal.
“I want you.”
There it was. Out in the open now, undeniable, irrefutable, resistant to your self-convinced state of denial. You felt your arms squeeze tighter against your sides. “Then why did you – ”
He cut you off. “She asked me weeks ago. And I thought you – I thought it would be best if I back off when it didn’t seem like you were interested.”
He seemed to move impossibly closer as his voice fell to a hush, its deep rumble caressing your spine.
“You set a boundary, and I wanted to respect that. I tried to. But – ”
His fingers twitched beside him as he resisted reaching for you again. He blinked, trying not to lose himself in your wide eyes, his pupils slightly blown.
“I don’t think I can anymore.”
Your breath caught. You searched his face and were taken aback at the raw emotion behind his confession. For a moment, it felt like you were back on the balcony, cornered, pressed against a column, every nerve singing, lit on fire by the vigor in his tone and eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you saw his eyes track it, as if he remembered how you tasted that night, the kiss sweet and fiery and intoxicating in ways that clearly left you both craving more.
Your eyes fought to stay on his, and like he sensed your apprehension, he closed his, letting out a breath of frustration and control, taking a step back and breaking the charged sphere you two had entered.
“Sorry. That wasn’t – I didn’t mean to say that. Fuck, I mean, I did, but not like that.” He palmed his forehead, his frustration with his own ineptitude that caused him to stumble over his own words. “I didn’t mean to ambush you with that. That’s not why I asked you to come.”
“So why did you ask me to come?” You could hear the exasperation in your tone, weariness pulling at your features as your frown deepened.
His shoulders slouched, mirroring your exhaustion. Such an intimidating figure, reduced to your whims.
“To apologize. To say sorry to your face.”
“Well, you did that. Mission accomplished.” You twisted your mouth in vain attempts to stop the tears pricking the corners of your eyes.
You couldn’t begin to say why you were getting emotional.
A confession, finally, begot by a night defined by drunken actions. Not how you wanted it, not how you planned, and very much not when you needed it to happen.
But was it too little, too late?
“Anything else?”
A pause.
“I needed to see if you’d give me another chance.”
“To do what?” Your facade crumbled with every earnest look he gave, his words like well-aimed arrows piercing your armor.
“Study with you.”
You exhaled shakily. He pressed forward.
“To let you know that I wanna be more than your project partner.”
Your hands flew up to your eyes, not being able to take the intensity of his look. Your fingers pressed into the sockets, as if trying to wipe him from your vision. “Sukuna, what are you doing?” You whispered.
A rhetorical question, asked from a place of denied delusion, your head spinning like you were wondering if the words coming out of his mouth were a figment of your traitorous imagination.
He continued. “I’m done dancing around this with you. I had to tell you before you decided to never speak to me again.”
“So you’re telling me in the middle of the library?”
“Seemed kinda fitting, don’t you think?”
You shuddered out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “No. Fuck you. You don’t get to make jokes right now.”
“Sorry.”
There wasn’t a hint of remorse in his tone.
You felt his hands curl around your wrist, hesitant, but tender as they pulled your palms gently down from your face, and you blinked back tears to focus on him.
“I’m not good at this. I haven’t done…this, before, but you make me wanna try. And I know I fucked things up before, but I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance like you did when we first met.” He paused, waiting for any sign of resistance or rejection before continuing. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been told I’m a pretty quick learner.”
This time, your laugh was watery, shock, humor, and disbelief all rolled together in a way that chimed in Sukuna’s ears. “Oh yeah? Who lied to you and said that?”
“Some girl who already called me out of my name, like, four hours ago.”
You shook your head slightly. “You deserved it.”
“Yeah, I did.” He didn’t try to put up a fight. “I’m sorry.”
His thumb caressed your inner palm before he pulled away entirely, shoving his hands into his pockets, afraid he would cross a line too soon after being granted the slightest bit of clemency from you.
You both already missed each other’s touch.
He gazed fondly at you while you fondled the slightly worn, frayed sleeves of his hoodie. He cocked his head to the side, gesturing to the table where his notes sat splayed open. “Help me draft the conclusion?”
You paused, thinking of how to respond, wiping your waterline dry from formed tears.
“Sukuna, I can’t give you an answer right now.”
“I’m not expecting you to.”
“I just need time to think. It’s just been, I don’t know, a lot, to say the least.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He’d lost track of the number of times he’d said it to you. More than he probably had throughout his college career, but he didn’t care. He’d say it a thousand times more, as many times as you needed to hear it before you’d believe him.
“I know it’s late, but…” he trailed off, his head nodding over to the textbooks and readings, lying abandoned on the table, inanimate witnesses to a long-awaited confession.
You stared at him before nodding, wordlessly following his lead and sitting down, beginning to pull out your laptop. The two of you worked quietly, burning the midnight oil as more students filtered out, and the two of you were left surrounded by the shelves of books and volumes of words left unspoken.
Well into your study session, you purposefully ignored looking at him when you asked your next question. “What would you have done if I refused to come?”
He paused, thinking of his answer. “Before getting on my hands and knees to beg? Maybe threatened to delete everything we worked on thus far.”
“Well, God forbid you do that. I still need to pass.” You raised an eyebrow as you considered his second statement. “So, is hands and knees begging still an option, or…?”
He snorted. “In your dreams, princess. Not since I know that you like me at least a little.”
“Shouldn’t that be more of an incentive? I thought princesses got what they wanted.”
He scratched his chin and looked up at you playfully. “Can’t pull out all the stops here. Week’s barely started. Besides, if you think I’m getting on my knees for you in the middle of the library, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
Your stomach flipped at the prospect of him doing anything else. “Oh, so there’s more?”
“As long as you want there to be.”
You didn’t respond. You weren’t sure how to. And like a clairvoyant, he was already tuned to what you were thinking.
“I don’t need you to tell me yes or no right now. But, I need to know there’s a chance. That I’m not sitting here, trying to convince you of something you don’t want.”
The silence rested heavy between you as the pads of your fingers pressed along the keys, their clacking puncturing each second as Sukuna waited patiently, hopefully, for an affirmation.
You were gracious enough to give him one.
“I’m still wearing the hoodie, aren’t I?”
|||
“Is that him?”
You walked patiently behind the mass of students exiting the classroom. The session passed slowly with anxious students asking as many questions as possible before the onslaught of exam season hit. Unfortunately for you, your partner TA was out sick for the day, meaning you were the only one fielding questions. You were already tired, and had another two classes to go before you could go back home and crawl into bed. You sighed as the mass trickled outside like water dripping from a leaky faucet – agonizingly slow.
“Yeah, I think it is!” A hushed, excited whisper came from the young sophomore standing in front of you, pointing at a figure standing across the hallway and giggling to her friend next to her. “He is so freaking hot.”
You rolled your eyes at the comment. You couldn’t be sure who the girls were talking about, but you were certain it was some senior idiotic student athlete they had no business being interested in. As politely as you could, you began to shimmy past the two girls, rushing to make it to your next class across campus. “Excuse me,” you said, apologizing as you pushed past.
You picked up your stride, dodging the students strolling through the hallway when your spine stiffened at the sound of your name being called.
Your entire face tightened. Of course, it wasn’t just any idiotic student athlete – it was yours. At least, your project partner.
You registered his voice faster than you wanted to, and your steps faltered before you picked them up again, this time faster than before. You heard the two underclassmen whisper in confusion, wondering why the campus’s notorious rake was chasing after their relatively unassuming TA, and you flushed, trying to escape before the gossip ring suffocated you.
You heard him curse before his footsteps quickened, and before you could protest, he was walking next you, stride by side. “You walk so damn fast,” He gruffed out.
“Gotta get to class.” You hiked your bag higher on your shoulder, the computers and textbooks feeling like they weighed a thousand pounds.
His eyes took in your wince of pain at the weight of your bag. He held out his hand. “Let me.”
You balked, your hand tightening on the strap. He rolled his eyes at your apprehension. “Stop being dumb. Give me your bag.”
“I can carry it myself.”
“I don’t doubt that. Give it to me.”
“Once again, I’m fine.” You seethed, shouldering away from him.
“Your arm looks like it’s about to fall off.”
You scoffed. “You calling me weak?”
“Yes.” He took matters into his own hands, snatching the strap off your shoulder against your protests, and hiking it up on his. You had to admit, it was a funny sight to see, Sukuna with your ivory green bag hung over his shoulder, your charms and keychain dangling off it. He adjusted it a couple of times, clearly not expecting it to weigh as much as it did. “Where’s your next class?”
You raised your eyebrow. “You are not about to walk me to my next lecture. Are we fifteen?”
He sucked his teeth. “Well, I have your bag now, so I don’t know how you’ll attend class if I don’t.”
You rolled your tongue along your cheek. “You must be stupid if you think this is gonna make up for what you did.”
“And you must be more stupid if you think this is all I’m doing.”
You huffed, crossing your arms and stalking forward, refusing to face him or let him hear the fact that your heart skipped a beat. “Stupider. The phrase would be stupider.”
“That’s why I gotta keep hanging around you. You make me smarter.”
“That’s the only reason? Because I’m smart?”
He shrugged. “You’re not bad to look at either.”
You were irritated by how cloudy your demeanor was compared to Sukuna’s light, airy nature. He took his steps casually, but also cautiously, aware that you hadn’t totally forgiven him and trying not to push your boundaries too far. It was a delicate balance you both were traipsing between, with him trying to prove his feelings and you pretending not to be interested in his attempts. You knew it, and Sukuna basked in the light at the end of the tunnel – you were giving him a chance, and that was all he needed.
“So, this is your big plan, then?” You said, snark encompassing the curiosity in your tone. “The princess treatment?”
“If that’s what you wanna call it, then sure.” He glanced at you with the smallest smirk on his face, his dimples poking out and accentuating his face.
“Knew you liked the nickname.”
You exhaled through your nose and faced forward, continuing to walk and deciding you were done speaking with him.
You both ambled in silence, trekking through the middle of campus and collecting stares along the way. You knew Sukuna was used to the attention he received, but you surely weren’t.
He took in the anxiety on your face. “What?”
“Hm?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Besides being unwillingly escorted to class? Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
“Bullshit. It’s all over your face. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just…” you hesitated, eyes flicking between the confused glances and lingering gazes. You pushed your frames up the bridge of your nose, the familiar motion soothing. “People are staring.”
He surveyed the area, onlookers whipping their heads away when they accidentally made eye contact. He scoffed. Pathetic. “Let them.”
“Not scared I’ll ruin your reputation?”
“Don’t really care, princess.”
He said it with such finality that it didn’t leave room for argument.
You bit your lip as you continued to walk. At what point was it cruel to let him do this? To pull him along on a string, to lead him on when you didn’t know if you could commit to him? You weren’t entirely sure what you were waiting on, if it was holding out to hear a magic phrase that could undo the mistakes that were made, or some grand, meaningful romantic gesture that seems to come out of the movies you’ve seen so many times with Shoko and Utahime. But was that not what had happened in the library yesterday? Maybe you were waiting for the hurt to stop feeling so fresh, for the cold delivery of Uraume’s words to stop feeling like it was a dagger, perfectly cut to the shape of your core, slicing through the emotions you had just begun to acknowledge.
You hadn’t come to a conclusion by the time you reached the building for your next class, the familiarity of your classmates sporting various levels of emotion, from shock to surprise, from approval to downright confusion at Sukuna dropping you off at the front door.
He shouldered your bag off handing it to you by the strap. “I’ve got class at noon, so I can meet you in the caf around 1:30?”
You raised your eyebrow. “Who said I wanted to have lunch with you?”
He exhaled. “Ok. Let me rephrase. I’ll be free at 1:30, and I’d like to have lunch with you. Will you meet me in the caf?”
You waited a beat.
He flicked his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “Please?”
You gave him a small smile. “See? Not so hard. Could do without the attitude, though.”
You took your bag from his hands, and he put his hands in his pockets. “So was that a yes for lunch?”
You shrugged. “If I feel like it.” You threw a wave over your shoulder as you stepped inside your senior seminar class, greeting your peers you’d been working with for the past few months.
A nice girl, with whom you had been friendly all semester, glanced at you peculiarly. “Were you talking with Sukuna just now?”
You nodded, hoping that would be the end of the questioning.
“Are you guys, like, together?”
You let out a small laugh, opening up your laptop. “He wishes.”
You clicked open your texts to see that your group chat with your girlfriends had new messages to read.
utahime | sho and i going off campus for lunch today! anyone want to join?
shoko | ramen shop nearby has an awesome lunch special that i wanna check out
yuki | i’d be down
yuki | can i bring cho?
shoko | NO
shoko | your bf cannot come everywhere with us yuki
yuki | he’ll pay
shoko | …
shoko | ok this time i’ll allow it
Shoko emphasized your name in the chat.
shoko | are you coming or what?
you | I think I have lunch plans
utahime | you think???
shoko | with who?
shoko | who could be more important and interesting than us?
yuki | her boyf
you | Not my boyfriend
yuki | sorry, soon-to-be boyf
shoko | NOT HIM
utahime | i thought we were done with him
yuki | i thought so too
yuki | what could have possibly changed in two days?
shoko | to be fair a lot
shoko | it doesn’t take a long time with these two
To your chagrin, Yuki and Utahime both laughed at Shoko’s message.
you | shut up
you | idk
you | He said please, I guess
yuki | oh wow, that’s actually a new one for him
utahime | the bar is in hell
yuki | wait i wanna lunch with you guys then
you | It wasn’t exactly an open invite
yuki | does it sound like i care?
yuki | not everyday you get to see sukuna groveling
utahime | wait so you said yes to lunch?
you | Not exactly
utahime | but you didn’t say no either?
you | Correct
shoko | should we unpack that orrrr
you | I’d actually rather not, thanks
With that, you exited the chat, putting your focus back on the lecturer, ignoring the way your stomach grumbled.
|||
The campus’s cafeteria was alive with bustling students and raucous chatter, under and upperclassmen alike carrying trays of food through the long dining hall, searching for a place of respite to take twenty minutes to fuel themselves for the trek ahead. You weren’t sure how you were gonna find Sukuna in the mass of students, but you didn’t have to worry because his eyes found you first. He called out your name as he walked toward you.
“You came,” he said, slight surprise clear.
“I gotta eat.”
He hummed, following you to the line with a choice meal. You looked over your options and selected something new on the menu. Sukuna frowned as you reached for your order. “That looks like shit.”
“Sukuna! They can hear you.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure they agree with me. It looks like literal ass. Don’t get that.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Fine. Then let me suggest. I don’t think you’ll like that one.”
“Well, good thing no one asked you what you were thinking.” You thanked the server as you took your food, heading toward the end of the aisle to pay.
He rolled his eyes at your retort, ordering and dragging his tray of food behind you. Once you got to the cashier to pay, you fumbled for your card, only for Sukuna to extend his, reaching across you to hand it to the worker. “I got it.”
You whipped over to glare at him. “You are not paying for my meal.”
You reached to pull his hand away from the register, but he dodged, shoulder-checking you out of the way and pushing you out of line. “Stop being difficult. It’s just lunch.”
The cashier’s nails clicked against the screen as she took his card, swiping it and handing it back to him. “Not to intrude, but it’s honestly the bare minimum.”
Sukuna looked at you pointedly. “See? Bare minimum.”
You deadpanned, your grip tightening on your tray, and you turned your back on him, pivoting on your heel, looking for a free table to eat at. You set toward one near the edge of the room and set your bag down on the ground nearby with a thunk, with Sukuna following suit, taking the seat next to you. As you sat in the chair, he eyed the distance you put between yourself and him, and with his free hand, he grabbed the support beam underneath your seat, pulling you closer to him, his bicep flexing and the chair making an ugly scraping noise along the linoleum floors. By the time he stopped, you could not only smell the lunch he’d ordered, but him, who smelt of rain and sandalwood and all-around just too damn good for it to be the middle of the day. You stiffened in your seat as your knees brushed each other underneath the table. “You’re in my space,” you grumbled, pulling your tray closer to your body.
“Cope.” He said, already beginning to fork food in his mouth, adamant on not moving any further away.
You fiddled with your utensils, staring down at your meal. “So, are you just gonna follow me around for the rest of the day?”
His shoulders went up and down. “Until you tell me to stop.” He looked up from his plate and locked eyes with you, his gaze serious with a touch of vulnerability.
“Do you want me to stop?”
You broke your gaze first, staring down at your tray. You gnawed on the inside of your bottom lip, unsure how to answer.
He chased your eyes, leaning down to find your gaze again. “Do you?”
You landed on the truth. “No,” you mumbled, voice low and soft.
Sukunua felt the tension leave his shoulders, anxiety dissipating off his frame. “Ok. So I’ll keep following you around, and you can keep pretending not to like it.”
You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t like it.”
“Uh huh. Sure, princess.”
You couldn’t protest any further before Gojo and Toji arrive from behind, clapping Sukuna on his back. You saw him visibly tense, clearly irritated by the interruption. “What’s up, lovebirds?” Satoru chided, taking the seat next to you while Toji sat next to Sukuna.
Sukuna scowled. “What do you want?”
“The team’s wondering why you’re not sitting with them.” Satoru winks at you. “We see why.”
Toji chuckled, thumping Gojo on the back of his head. “Stop flirting with her before he kills you.”
“He won’t kill me. Not as long as she tells him not to.” Gojo’s eyes found yours, humor dancing behind his pupils. “Tell him not to kill me.”
You smirked, tilting your head to the side to look at Sukuna, who was already giving you the deadest stare back. “Don’t,” he gruffed out.
“Please don’t kill him.”
“How about seriously maim or injure?”
“Please don’t do that either.” Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “He’s your friend, y’know.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Gojo groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Ugh, you guys are disgusting. I miss when you hated each other.”
“Says they’re number one, certified wing man.” Toji cajoled, reaching to steal food off Sukuna’s plate, who immediately smacked his hand away aggressively. “You’re just mad she didn’t want you.”
Gojo had flipped Toij off from across the table when you heard your name called, and you saw Yuki and Choso heading toward your group, their lunches in hand. It was almost as if you could see the dark cloud forming above Sukuna’s head as they dragged chairs up to your table, propping themselves across from you.
Choso greeted his friends while Yuki said hello to you. She eyed the distance between you and Sukuna and nudged your leg with her foot underneath the table, her eyebrow flicking up, and a repressed smile causing an upturn in her mouth. You shook your head slightly, telling her to disengage.
You felt Sukuna’s eyes on you as you picked over your food. Yuki glanced between you and Sukuna and looked at your full plate of food. “Damn, is the lunch that bad?”
“It’s fine, I’m just not that hungry.”
As if cued, your stomach grumbled, and you froze in embarrassment, giving her a sheepish grin.
You felt Sukuna grunt beside you. “Told ya you wouldn’t like that shit.”
“It’s fine,” you insisted. “It could just use a little salt. And pepper. And flavor in general…”
You trailed off, looking at Yuki bashfully. Sukuna nudged your tray forward away from you and almost imperceptively pushed his between to share. “Don’t eat that shit. Here.” He said, voice swallowed up by the conversation surrounding him.
“I don’t wanna eat your food.”
“I’m not gonna finish it all anyway.”
A lie. You’ve seen him and his teammates inhale meals like they were professional bodybuilders, calories or recommended portion control be damned. He’d even requested double portions today to load up for a scrimmage later today. He would have finished the entire portion and yours easily.
You stared at him, and he stared back, unwavering. Finally, you cracked, your hand gingerly reaching out to steal fries off his tray. You murmur a thanks, and he nods, turning back to Toji to join in whatever argument he’d started with Choso and Satoru.
Whether or not your tablemates saw what just happened, they gave you the grace of ignoring it, but you couldn’t help but be suspicious of the tiny knowing smile on Yuki’s face.
After the lunch hour was up, you stood to throw away your trash and walked back to the table to see Sukuna already standing with your bag. He looked up at you from his phone and asked where your next move class was. You went to respond before Yuki cut in.
“Actually, loverboy, I’m gonna steal her away for a bit. I’ve been meaning to catch up with her, but she’s such a busy woman.” She patted you on the shoulder, a gleam in her eye telling you that you knew you were about to face a serious interrogation.
Sukuna looked ready to protest, but Yuki silenced him with a wave of her hand. “You’re not bound by the hip. You won’t die if you’re separated for a few hours. You’ll be fine.” She snatched up your bag from his hands and held it to your chest. “She’ll catch up with you later.”
Yuki hooked her arm through yours and went to exit the cafeteria, shouting goodbyes to the boys you all left behind.
As soon as you were out of earshot, Yuki’s arms shoved your side, sending you stumbling off course. “Um, hello? Lunch, carrying your bag? What did I miss?”
You raised your hand to your brow, trying to rub away the stress marks Yuki’s questioning was already forming. “Yuki, please - “
“No matter. I have the perfect place for you guys to hard launch to the rest of campus.”
“We’re not dating,” you mumbled, but Yuki barreled forward.
“Sig Chi is throwing this Friday! We should definitely go, and I can get you on the list.”
“When has partying ever been the solution to something?”
“It’s always worked out for me,” Yuki shrugged. “But I digress. It’s kinda a joint thing, so most of the guys will be there. It’ll be fun, and it’s themed!”
“Oh joyous.”
Yuki pouted. “You used to be so much fun. What happened?”
“Well, the last time you invited me to a party, I ended the night crying in an ice cream shop.”
“Perf, then we can only go up from here!”
You rolled her eyes at her grating optimism. “What’s the theme?”
“Little White Lies.” You swore, her eyes sparkled as she shared the concept behind it.
“Y’know, for someone who claims to be so loosely associated with Greek life, you sure do love the social events.”
“Yeah, me and every other bitch. Trust me, I’ve seen half of those AGL’s drunk in a frat basement before. Everyone’s a hypocrite, I am just willing to own up to it.” She grabbed your arm, shaking you gently. “So, will you come? Pleeeaaaseeeee?”
You felt your extended eye roll turn into a long blink, and the next thing you knew, your eyesight was impaired by the lack of lighting in the frat house and the contents of your cup which sat drained quicker than you had anticipated.
It had been a long week, to say the least. Your brain fired back and forth between options, and Sukuna wasn’t making it any easier on your part. The gestures seemed to only get more elaborate, from walking you to class, to showing up early to your seminar with your coffee order in hand, his bedhead still evident and voice still gruff from his body being up before his mind. It almost seemed the more you tried to dig your heels in the ground, the more determined Sukuna seemed to prove himself to you. You struggled with the position you were putting both of you in, but you also knew a sick truth: at any point, you could have told him to stop, and he would have, without hesitation. You never did, and he gave you the grace of not mentioning it.
The end of the semester project came and went, with the brief class presentations of findings showcasing the wide variety of students’ preparation and levels of understanding of the material they studied for weeks. You and Sukuna’s was concise and clean, as to the point like a needle in a sewing kit, topped off with a nod of approval from Prof. Yaga himself. At the end of class, he beckoned the two of you to his desk, staring at your approaching figures over the rims of his glasses.
He folded his hands as he spoke. “Now, I won’t lie, I was worried about the contents and quality of your work, given the worrying email I received a few weeks prior.”
You braced for impact, but his next words threw you for a loop.
“But I must admit, you two surprised me.”
You blinked.
He continued. “Based on my preliminary readings and the presentation you all gave today, it seems like you both have a firm grasp on the material provided, and melded your writing voices and opinions together well to form one coherent sound.”
Sukuna stiffened. “Um, thank you?”
Yaga nodded, glancing between you two, the barest hint of a smile playing at his lips.
“You work well together.”
You wanted to scream. If only.
The hell you went through this semester, and the hell you were going through this past week alone, was enough to drive you into a deep slumber akin to hibernation, not waking until the promised bright spring day of graduation warmed your face with its rays. You felt the silence between you two as you exited the classroom. You shrugged your back higher as you glanced over at him. The end of the semester, the end of the enforcement of being in each other’s presence, the realization of this potential ending stung like the cold bite of the late November winds, icy and bitter.
You hadn’t anticipated it being so anti-climactic.
“So,” you started. “It sounds like we did well.”
“Yup.”
“I’m glad. I was nervous there for a second.” You chuckled nervously. Why were you nervous? You couldn’t say as you kept talking. “I was worried our third argument was weaker than our first two, but that supporting source you found at the last second really helped bolster it.”
He crinkled his brows, looking sideways at you while keeping your pace with his hands in his pockets. He called out your name, but your words overwhelmed him.
“I also thought we were gonna need another run through before presenting, but you’re a super solid presenter. I guess that comes with being in the business school, but you spoke really well, and you even added one of the facts that completely slipped my mind. Thanks for that, by the way.”
He called your name again, this time more forcefully. Your lips snapped shut.
“What are you doing?”
You felt your mouth go dry. He reads you so easily now, so intimately, it’s chilling.
“Nothing.”
“You’re rambling.”
“No, I’m not.”
He gave you a look. “We did fine. We did better than fine. Yaga’s such a hard ass that the review we got was practically glowing. You know this.”
You stayed silent.
He asked again. “What’s wrong?”
A million answers ran through your head. A confession, an acceptance, a forgiveness you’d been ready to extend when you heard him apologize in the library, a prideful snark you couldn’t bear to let go of. You didn’t want this, whatever it was, to end.
But why were you struggling so hard to just say that?
“Are you going to the party tomorrow?”
His eyes stared hard at you. “That’s not what you were going to say.”
A moment passed. You didn’t falter. He sighed softly, letting you get away with it.
“Sure, if you’re going.”
Your last conversation is why you couldn’t help but search for a particular pink head of hair in the crowd. You pulled at your tank top, crudely written words decorating its front in black ink while you rested your head against a wall, Yuki making conversation with a girl you weren’t familiar with. You trailed your eyes lazily over the throngs of people dancing, drinking, and laughing throughout the house. You felt a body slide next to your space against the wall. They took a sip of their drink before casting a sideways smirk at you. “Not your scene?”
You shrugged. “Just bored.”
“Maybe I can change that.” You caught a glance of his side profile, piercings adorning the crest of his ear, his hair cropped close to his head, plastered around his dome, not to be helped by the heat radiating off the bodies that surrounded them. Despite the feverish state of the room, this stranger felt inclined to move even closer to you. You pressed your body against the wall, in hopes its walls would concave and absorb you.
You let out a puff of air in sardonic laughter. “I doubt that.”
“Yeah? Well, let me get you a drink.”
Your grip tightened over the mouth of the cup. “I’m good, actually.”
“Come on,” he dragged, his face getting closer, the liquor on his breath almost palpable. “It’s just one drink.”
You wrinkled your nose, using your knuckles to press against his chest. “Can you chill?”
His grin was slimy as it grew across his face, his hand locking yours against him, his grip like iron. You tugged your arm away, but his grip only tightened. “Don’t be such a - ”
“Hey.” That dark tone, you’d recognize it anywhere. Both you and the stranger’s heads whipped over to Sukuna, brooding in front of you, eyes cold and hard like concrete. The guys’ grip loosened just enough for you to rip your arm from his grasp. You gave him a disgusted look as you stepped away, Sukuna subtly stepped between, putting more distance between you two as he used his fingers to gently guide you behind him. He glanced down at you, the facade behind his eyes cracking softly as he scanned you over.
“You ok?” He mumbled.
You nodded back. “I’m fine.”
The guy’s grating voice chimed back in as he observed you two. “Ah, I see. You’re Sukuna’s new plaything. Heard rumors, but didn’t think it was true.” He took a step back, putting his hands up in signs of surrender. “My bad man, you got it.” He smirked as he eyed you up and down, still walking away.
You scowled as the party’s crowd absorbed him, and you glanced up at Sukuna to see his jaw clenched, a vein in the side of his head popping out. He met your gaze, his eyes serious. “I don’t call you a plaything. He’s just an asshole.”
“I figured.” Your eyes shot down to his thick, tanned arms crossed over his chest, his eyes still scanning to make sure he was truly gone. “When’d you get here?”
He shrugged. “Maybe five minutes ago?”
“Are you drinking?”
“Of course. Just went looking for you first.”
Your heart fluttered as you bit the inside of your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling. You held up your empty cup for him to take.
“Top me off?”
He rolled his eyes, but took the cup from your hands, mumbling that he’d be right back.
He gripped the top of your cup as he pushed his way through the swath of bodies, heading to the kitchen to pour you a new drink and himself a triple of whatever he got you.
This past week consisted of Sukuna putting more effort into you than he had for most of his collegiate career. Early morning wake-ups to be waiting at the door of your classroom before you arrived, late nights walking you back from the library when you crammed for an important exam that had you stressed. A late-night run to the convenience store when you ran out of food for Miso, the suffering through your TA office hours listening to freshmen and sophomores ask the most moronic questions he’d ever heard, just to spend time with you. Snack breaks, coffee runs, and campus lunches sprinkled in between; he had never felt more out of his element.
And yet, it felt natural. Not like work, and not like a burden, because he wanted to do it, and he wanted to do it for you.
He slid through the contingent of frat men hovering around the bar area, searching for something sweet but not too strong that you typically get. He grabbed a handle and began to pour when he felt eyes on him. He glanced up, only for his face to fall when he saw who was smirking back at him. He grunted. “Naoya.”
“Ryomen.”
Sukuna went to reach for the nearest mixer, hoping his silence would be the end of the conversation. If he could only be so lucky.
“Nice girl you got there. She’s pretty. Not your usual type, though.”
Sukuna didn’t respond, instead focusing on eyeing how much was going into your cup. You’d definitely already had some drinks in you, and he wanted to make sure you still had a good time while not getting you sick.
Naoya continued, unperturbed by his lack of response. “I thought you were fucking that girl on the swim team? The brunette, remember? Didn’t have much to work with, but she gave great head.”
Sukuna set the bottle down with a bit too much force, the glass clanking against the countertop. He clenched his teeth, reaching to pour himself another shot.
“Or what about that cheerleader? She was a fucking dime, man. Too bad she was ran through. She’s fucked half of my chapter. Can’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.”
Sukuna refrained from mentioning how many girls had the displeasure of sleeping with Naoya by throwing the glass back, immediately reaching to pour another shot.
Naoya slid a cup over, gesturing for him to pour him one too. Sukuna gave him the dirtiest glance and pulled himself back from spitting in his drink as Naoya’s voice droned on. “Nah, she must not run in any of those circles. I’ve never seen her before.” Naoya side-eyed him, a malicious grin evident. “Clearly, you went out of your way for this one. Had to have someone no one else has touched, right? Nice picking, though. She’s hot. Real nerdy type, and they’re always killers.”
Sukuna slid his drink back with so much force the liquor nearly sloshed from the cup. Naoya wrapped his hands around it, cheering to Sukuna before downing the contents. He shook his head, crumpling the cup and tossing it to the side haphazardly. It was then that Toji strolled into the kitchen, closely followed by Satoru, who immediately took note of the situation and glanced at Sukuna, trying to see if an intervention was needed. He shook his head imperceptively, telling them not to engage. They nodded back, grabbing beers from the fridge and greeting Naoya.
“Hey man, long time no see. Nice party.” Satoru said, ever trying to be the diplomat. He couldn’t figure out what they’d just walked into, but all he knew is Sukuna was maybe two shots away from causing a scene he knew their frat president would be livid about having to deal with.
Naoya shrugged. “It’s whatever. The pledges are idiots. We lost most the decent crossbids to you, and the ones we got can’t throw for shit.” Naoya cocked his head toward Sukuna, who stared ahead at the wall, attempting to control his temper. “I was telling your pledge master that the girl he brought is hot as fuck. She looks like one of those types that’s all quiet and shit until you start fucking them, then they can’t shut up.”
Toji’s grip tightened around his beer bottle while Gojo’s back stiffened. He glanced between Sukuna and Naoya, the former not seeming to react to the latter’s comment. “Yo, dude, chill with that. You sound crazy.”
“I’m just saying. Let me know when you get bored with that, so I can show her a good time.” Naoya commented, clapping Sukuna on his shoulder.
Toji chuckled mirthlessly. Gojo sighed. He could hear the discordant snapping of a violin string, the line too far crossed for Sukuna to pull himself back. And here he was, hoping for one drama free night.
Sukuna’s head turned ever so slightly to the side, glaring at Naoya from the corners of his eyes. “What?” His voice was low, barely legible over the sounds of the party, but anger radiating from his tone palpable enough to be felt around the room.
“Lemme know when you’re done fucking her, so I can take her for a spin after.” Naoya looked at Sukuna’s reaction, his eyes blazing, and added, as if probing. “Unless you haven’t fucked her yet. Nerdy girls probably play hard to get. Typical. Just let me know and I can fuck her first, make it easier for you. Bitches like that need to be broken in, then they’re easy money - ”
To be honest, Sukuna would have been disgusted by Naoya talking about anyone like that. But because it was you, especially because it was you, he let pure, hot instinct take over, not caring about social consequences or fraternal relationships. He was graduating in a semester, and he’d been waiting to do this since he met Naoya during rush three years ago.
He didn’t even realize he’d thrown a punch until the crowd gasped and shouted in shock, Naoya’s hands flying to cover his face, his body staggering but not going down. Sukuna looked down at his own fist, knuckles already pulsing from the impact and starting to bruise.
Huh, he thought to himself. Must’ve been that last shot. His punches normally were a lot stronger.
Naoya wailed, blood spurting from his nose as his eyes found Sukuna’s in anger. “Jesus Christ, man, what the fuck was that?”
Sukuna shook out his hand, voice ice cold. “Do everyone a favor, and shut the fuck up and die.”
He stalked out of the kitchen, leaving a fuming Naoya behind with Satoru and Toji closely trailing.
Gojo shook his head. “Prez is gonna kill you for that.”
“Yeah, well he can go eat shit. Everyone’s been wanting to do that since freshman year.” Sukuna glanced over at Toji as if waiting for a comment.
Toji only shrugged. “Nice punch. Good swing. Needed more follow through.”
Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. I’m ten shots deep.” He shook his friends on his shoulder, walking back around the house to find you. He stopped when he saw you on the porch with Yuki and Choso, your eyes glancing around as if searching for someone. He felt his cheek twitch before he stepped out into the chilly night, handing you your cup. “Here.”
You took it from his hands, whispering thanks. “What took you so long?”
“Got held up.”
Your face crinkled in confusion before you glanced back down at his hand, slightly smeared with blood. You looked back up, eyes slightly wide. “Is that yours?”
He scoffed. “Of course not.”
“Then whose is it?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. It’s fine.”
You exhaled, dropping the topic and raising the cup to your lips, taking a long sip. Sukuna’s eyes trailed down your neck, settling on your shirt as his eyes scanned the words on your chest.
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Is that about me?”
You smiled into the rim of your cup. “What, this?” You glanced down, tugging the end hem of your white tank, the neckline sliding down, just barely revealing the top of your lacy bra that sat underneath.
I Hate Him. Big, black swoopy letters in the same handwriting he’d been reading all semester.
“Well, it’s not for Satoru.”
“Thank God for that,” Sukuna came forward, using his fingers and looping them into your belt strap, tugging you close to him. Your hips lurched forward, and the rest of your body followed suit, your wrist curling around your cup, its plastic shell being the only thing that separated your chests. “So,” his voice dropped down to a whisper, caressing your ears and gliding down your neck, encasing you two in an intimate moment, the surrounding party left behind. His thumb crept up, up, up, over the waistband of your jeans, the pad of his finger lighting a trail across your hip, where the tiniest sliver of skin was left exposed. His eyes flashed as he looked at you. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
Any other moment, you would have been mortified to be caught in such a position, on the front porch of raging party in the background, but with you three, four, five drinks in, and the guy you’ve liked for weeks, whose mouth and eyes and body you couldn’t get out of your head since you kissed, standing mere inches in front of you, staring you down like you were the only person around clouded your judgement the way his maroon eyes were – to be frank, you couldn’t give a damn.
“Do you want to be forgiven?”
His response was immediate. Firm, but charged, like his words were aimed directly at your heart. “Yes. Please. Forgive me. I’m sorry.”
The grin that stretched along your face was cat-like. “I like when you beg.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it.” His tone went gruff, but the lilt in his smile gave him away, his canines glinting in the soft moonlight.
His words dissipated, but his grin didn’t fade as he held your gaze, his thumb still gently brushing your hip. His eyes dipped down to your mouth until he dragged them back up again. His voice held a slight rasp as he started to speak. “Can I – ”
“Yo, we should leave before Naoya finds you,” Toji’s deep voice cut through your moment as he appeared from the front door, bee-lining to his friend standing to the side of the porch. He eyed the distance between you two, and his lips quirked up into a smirk before continuing. “He’s not too happy.”
“Of course, he’s not happy, you broke his fucking nose,” Gojo came out after Toji, reaching to knock the back of Sukuna’s head before he tucked out of the way.
The warmth of Sukuna’s hand left your side as he reached to push his friends away, and you maneuvered out of the scuffle to tell Yuki you were headed out.
“But you just got here,” Yuki whined.
“Yeah, and now I’m just leaving.”
She groaned, but stood up. “Ok, let me walk you home.”
You shook your head. “No, it’s chill. Sukuna will.”
Yuki raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Oh, he will?”
“Stop it, it’s not like that.”
“Is it not?” She chided. “It’s ok, I can take a hint. We can debrief another time. But you kiss and make up, or whatever it is that you plan on doing.”
“I don’t plan on doing anything.” You protested.
“Oh, good, it’s much more fun when it’s a spur-of-the-moment type thing.” She nodded. “Do you need a condom?”
“Yuki, I’m walking away now. Good night.”
“Stay safe!” She called back, laughter obscuring her words.
You walked back over to Sukuna, who leaned against the wall as Gojo and Toji bickered beside him. You sidled up next to him, wrapping your arms around his. He raised his brows in curiosity, but didn’t pull away.
“Walk me home?”
He nodded, barely bothering to say bye to his friends before walking down the steps with you, arms still linked, holding you close as the night air nipped at your exposed skin.
Your walk was largely quiet save for the crunching leaves underfoot and the brush of the wind against the bare tree branches, its bend filling the air with a late night whistle.
You looked up at Sukuna to already find him gazing at you. “What is it?” He murmured.
“You broke someone’s nose tonight?”
He sucked his teeth. “He was on some fuck shit. Trust me, he deserved it.”
“Was it that guy from earlier?”
“Doesn’t matter. He was spouting absolute bullshit.”
“About me?”
Sukuna didin’t answer, but his eyes gave him away.
“I hope you don’t get in too much trouble for that.”
“Oh, no, I definitely fucked it up, but I don’t really care. I’d do it again. Probably swing harder, too.”
You chuckled, a small puff of air coming out from your warm breath. Autumn was well on her way out, and the crisp chill of winter was setting in, finals and the highly anticipated winter semester break looming overhead. You always found it funny how the shifting of the seasons was like the changing of the tides, and how your grasp on something so simple could slip and drop you in something wild and unpredictable. Autumn had shook the ground beneath you, causing your knees to buckle and head to spin, but with winter, and her frosty demeanor and ice below your feet, threatening to crack and cave causing you to slip, you found yourself ready, ready to shift your balance and take on the uncertainty in the storm, armed with a red hoodie that wasn’t yours.
As you approached your door, Sukuna stopped in front of you, the outside light shining through his tousled pink locks. He cleared his throat, somewhat nervously.
“So, about tonight…”
You hummed, telling him to continue.
“I don’t want to pressure you into an answer, and like I said before, whatever you give me, I can accept.”
You cocked your head to the side, a small smile on your face.
“I asked you if you could forgive me.”
You nodded, biting your lip.
“...Can you?”
You turned to the door, sliding in the key and bumping it open with your hip, looking over your shoulder to face him.
“Why don’t you come inside and find out?”
a/n: next chapter is pretty much just smut and i promise you will not have to wait a month and a half for it.
germansingergirl
amandla
jacobvanloon
kianamaiart
