The power cord of the PlayStation 5 dangled from your hand like a hunting trophy.
“Give it back, woman.”
You didn’t even blink, staring up at the towering, tattooed menace blocking your path to the bedroom closet. To anyone else in the world, Ryomen Sukuna was a walking nightmare. He was the kind of guy who made people look away when they accidentally meet gazes, a man with a reputation so terrifying that you still had friends who refused to come over for drinks.
But right now? He was just a very large, very grumpy manchild in sweatpants.
“No,” you said, keeping your voice perfectly level. “I’m hiding it. And I’m taking the controllers, too.”
“You can’t just confiscate my shit,” he growled, crossing his massive arms over his chest. The scowl on his face could have withered a lesser person on the spot. “I bought that.”
“And I pay half the rent for the apartment you’re currently haunting like a Victorian ghost,” you shot back, stepping around him to shove the console onto the highest shelf of the closet—the one you needed a step-stool to reach, but you knew he could just grab it. You’d have to find a better hiding spot later. “Sukuna, I am losing my mind. We literally live in opposite time zones now.”
“I’m a night owl.”
“You’re a vampire,” you corrected, turning to face him. “I go to sleep at midnight, you’re screaming at a twelve-year-old on Call of Duty. I wake up at seven for work, you’re just crawling into bed. We haven’t slept in the same bed at the same time in two weeks. The PS5 is in time-out.”
Sukuna’s jaw clenched. He looked like he was debating whether or not to argue, his crimson eyes narrowing into slits. “I was one trophy away from a platinum, baby. Just give it back. I’ll play quiet.”
“You don’t know how to play quiet. You threw a controller at the wall on Tuesday because you got sniped.”
“He was hacking!”
“I don’t care if he was the ghost of Steve Jobs, the PlayStation is gone until you remember how to have a normal circadian rhythm.”
You walked past him, patting his chest condescendingly as you headed for the kitchen. He let out a heavy, dramatic sigh that sounded more like a growl, but he didn’t follow you to tear the closet apart. That was the funny thing about your relationship. For all his posturing and his terrifying aura, when you put your foot down, he usually grumbled and took it.
The retaliation, however, was immediate.
For the rest of the afternoon, Sukuna was a nightmare. He was sulking, which for him meant stomping around the apartment, slamming cabinet doors just a little too hard, and giving you the silent treatment.
By the time dinner rolled around, the silence was deafening. You had ordered Thai takeout, his favorite, as a peace offering. He sat across from you at the kitchen island, aggressively stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.
He wasn’t looking at you. He was staring dead ahead, his eyes fixed on the blank, black screen of the television in the living room. He looked so utterly pathetic, like a massive, tattooed dog that had been told it couldn’t chase the mailman anymore.
You chewed your noodles, watching him. “You’re going to burn a hole in the TV.”
“I’m mourning,” he deadpanned, not breaking eye contact with the screen.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being oppressed in my own home.”
You rolled your eyes, but a pang of guilt hit your chest. He really did look miserable. You knew gaming was his way to blow off steam, even if it had completely derailed your domestic life lately.
You let out a long sigh, pushing your empty carton away. “Okay. Look.”
Sukuna finally shifted his gaze to you, an eyebrow raised in challenge.
You stood up, walked over to the TV stand, and opened the bottom drawer. You pulled out your Nintendo Switch, the pastel joy-cons a stark contrast to the sleek, aggressive black-and-white aesthetic of his beloved PS5. You walked back over and set it on the counter next to his plate.
He stared at it. Then he looked up at you. “What the fuck is that.”
“It’s my Switch,” you said. “You can play it tonight. So you don’t die of boredom.”
Sukuna scoffed, a harsh, dismissive sound. “I’m not playing that tiny piece of plastic. What does it even have on it? Mario? I’m not jumping on fucking turtles, woman.”
“It has a lot of games,” you defended, crossing your arms. “Zelda. Mario Kart. Animal Crossing.”
“What the hell is an Animal Crossing.”
“It’s a life simulation game. You build an island, you talk to animal villagers, you fish, you catch bugs. It’s relaxing.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. “You want me. To catch bugs. With cartoon animals.”
“I’m just offering!” you threw your hands up. “Take it or leave it. But the PS5 stays in the closet.”
He didn’t touch it. He just went back to aggressively eating his Pad Thai. You shrugged, picking up your dishes and moving to the sink. You figured he wouldn’t touch it. It wasn’t exactly his brand of violent, high-stakes entertainment.
You went through your evening routine, took a shower, and climbed into bed around eleven. Sukuna was still on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. You called out a goodnight, he grunted in response, and you drifted off to sleep, enjoying the rare silence of the apartment.
You woke up because you were cold.
You shifted, reaching out blindly to pull the duvet back over your shoulders, and your hand hit a solid, warm wall of muscle. Sukuna was in bed.
You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the dark room. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:14 AM.
He was lying on his side, his broad back turned to you. The blanket was pulled up to his waist, and the room was bathed in a faint, bluish glow.
And then, you heard it.
“Hehehe.”
Your blood ran cold. Sukuna did not giggle. He smirked, he chuckled darkly, he laughed like a maniac when he was fighting someone. But he did not giggle. It was a soft, genuinely amused sound that felt entirely alien coming from him.
You pushed yourself up on your elbows, leaning over his massive shoulder to see what the hell was going on.
He was holding your Switch.
You squinted at the screen. He was playing Animal Crossing. Your save file.
“What are you doing?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.
Sukuna jumped slightly, his shoulders tensing before he relaxed, not bothering to turn around. “Go back to sleep, baby. I’m busy.”
You rubbed your eyes, leaning closer. On the screen, your carefully curated character was running around the town plaza. But something was wrong.
“Why are you holding a net?” you asked.
“Because I’m teaching this smug little shit a lesson,” Sukuna replied, his thumbs moving rapidly over the joy-cons.
You watched in absolute horror as your character sprinted up to Raymond, the smug cat villager it had taken you three months and four hundred Nook Miles Tickets to find, and brought the bug net down hard on his head.
Thwack.
Raymond got a little squiggly angry cloud over his head.
“Sukuna!” you gasped, fully awake now. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
Thwack. He hit him again.
“He looked at me funny,” Sukuna said casually, his eyes glued to the screen. “And he told me my outfit was ‘quaint’.”
“He’s a pixelated cat! Stop hitting him!” You reached over his shoulder, trying to grab the console, but Sukuna just shifted his weight, easily blocking you with his massive frame.
“Hold on, I’m not done. He needs to learn his place in the hierarchy.”
“There is no hierarchy in Animal Crossing! Give me the Switch!”
“No,” he said, and you heard that terrifying little giggle again as Raymond stomped around angrily on the screen. “This game is actually kind of realistic. If you hit them enough, they get pissed.”
You scrambled over him, practically straddling his waist to get a better look at the screen. “What else have you done?”
You snatched the Switch out of his hands before he could react. He let out a loud “Hey!” but you ignored him, your eyes scanning the screen.
Your beautiful, five-star island. Your meticulously planned orchard.
“Where are my money trees?” you asked, your voice dangerously quiet.
Sukuna crossed his arms behind his head, looking up at you with a completely unapologetic smirk. “I chopped them down.”
“You… you chopped them down? Why?!”
“I needed the wood.”
“For what?!”
“To build fences.”
You quickly opened the map and ran your character over to the residential area. There, trapped in a tiny, one-by-one square of barbed wire fencing, was Shino the deer.
“You imprisoned Shino?!” you shrieked.
“She wouldn’t stop singing in the plaza,” Sukuna defended himself, sounding entirely too rational for a man who had just committed digital kidnapping. “She was pissing the shit out of me. I was trying to fish.”
“You can’t just lock up the villagers because they annoy you!”
“I just did. And honestly, the island runs much smoother now under my jurisdiction.”
“Your jurisdiction? It’s my island! The island is named ‘Peachy Keen’, Sukuna, you are not a dictator here!”
“I’m the King of Curses, woman. I rule wherever I go. Even on Peachy Keen.” He reached up, trying to grab the Switch back. “Now give it here, I was about to go hit Tom Nook. That capitalist raccoon has been charging me out the ass for a bridge.”
“No!” You held the console out of his reach, glaring down at him. “You ruined my island! Do you know how long it took me to grow those trees?”
“Just plant more.”
“That takes days!”
“So? You play this stupid game every day anyway.”
You stared at him, your chest heaving. It was 3:30 in the morning. You were arguing about a virtual raccoon and a kidnapped deer with a man who could probably bench-press a car. The absurdity of it all should have been funny, but you were genuinely pissed. You had offered him an olive branch, and he had used it to beat your favorite villagers.
“You’re an asshole,” you snapped, climbing off him and tossing the Switch onto the nightstand.
Sukuna’s smirk faltered slightly. “Don’t be dramatic, baby. It’s a bunch of pixels.”
“It’s the principle, Sukuna!” you argued, grabbing your pillow from the bed. “I tried to do something nice for you because you were sulking like a giant baby about your PS5, and you repay me by terrorizing my island!”
He sat up, the blanket falling away from his bare chest. “Where are you going?”
“I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“Are you serious?” He let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his messy pink hair. “Over a video game? You’re the one who confiscated my console!”
“Yeah, because you were ruining my sleep! And now you’re ruining my game! You just ruin everything tonight, don’t you?”
You didn’t wait for his response. You turned on your heel and marched out of the bedroom, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor.
You made it to the living room, tossing your pillow onto the sofa and grabbing the throw blanket. You were just settling in, aggressively fluffing the pillow, when heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Sukuna appeared in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space. He looked annoyed, his jaw tight, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or just frustration that his warm bed was now empty.
“Get up,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble.
“No.”
“Woman, get your ass back in bed.”
“I said no. Leave me alone.” You turned your back to him, pulling the blanket up to your chin.
He stood there for a long moment. You could hear him breathing, the heavy, measured breaths of a man trying very hard to keep his temper in check.
“Fine,” he finally snapped. “I’ll sleep out here. You take the bed.”
“No,” you shot back immediately. “I’m already comfortable. Go away.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch because you’re throwing a tantrum over a cartoon cat.”
“And I’m not moving. So unless you’re going to physically pick me up and carry me, which will only make me madder, you should just go back to bed.”
Silence.
You waited for him to argue, or to actually just pick you up—which he did sometimes when you were being stubborn—but he didn’t.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Be a brat.”
He turned and walked back down the hall. You heard the bedroom door click shut.
You lay there in the dark, staring at the back of the couch. You were still mad, but the adrenaline was fading, leaving you just exhausted. You closed your eyes, determined to sleep out of pure spite.
When you woke up, your neck hurt.
The couch was, in fact, lumpy. You groaned, rolling over onto your back and rubbing your eyes. Sunlight was streaming through the living room blinds, and the apartment smelled incredible.
Bacon. And fresh coffee.
You sat up slowly, the throw blanket pooling at your waist. You looked toward the kitchen.
Sukuna was standing at the stove, shirtless, wearing only his gray sweatpants. He was flipping bacon with a pair of tongs, his back to you. The sight of him, all broad shoulders and intricate black tattoos, doing something as domestic as cooking breakfast, always gave you a weird sense of whiplash.
He heard you shift on the couch and glanced over his shoulder.
“You’re awake,” he noted, his voice rough with sleep.
“Obviously,” you croaked, your throat dry.
He turned back to the stove, turning off the burner. He plated the food, poured two mugs of coffee, and walked over to the living room. He set the mugs on the coffee table and handed you a plate of eggs and bacon.
You took it suspiciously. “Are you trying to poison me?”
“If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t use bacon,” he replied smoothly, sitting down on the coffee table directly in front of you. His knees bumped against yours.
He looked at you, his crimson eyes searching your face. The grumpy, combative energy from last night was gone. He just looked… soft. Well, as soft as the King of Curses could look.
“Still mad?” he asked quietly.
You took a bite of a piece of bacon. It was cooked perfectly. “A little.”
Sukuna sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I fixed your island.”
You paused mid-chew. “What?”
“I woke up early. I went back on the game.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely embarrassed. “I let the deer out of the fence. And I planted new trees.”
You stared at him. “You can’t just plant money trees, Sukuna. You have to find the glowing spot on the ground.”
“I found them,” he said defensively. “I ran around the whole damn island until I found them. And I buried the bells. Ten thousand, just like the internet said.”
You blinked. “You Googled how to fix my Animal Crossing island?”
A faint dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks, blending into his tattoos. “Shut up. I’m just saying, I fixed it. And I didn’t hit the cat today.”
You couldn’t help it. A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. The image of this massive, terrifying man furiously Googling Animal Crossing mechanics at six in the morning was too much.
“Thank you,” you said softly.
He grunted, reaching out to trace a finger over your knee. “I’m sorry I was a dick last night. And yesterday. I was just pissed about the PS5.”
“I know.” You set your plate down on the table next to your coffee. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you really do need to fix your sleep schedule, Sukuna. I miss you. I feel like we’re just roommates who occasionally pass each other in the hallway.”
His expression softened completely. He moved from the coffee table to the couch, sliding in right next to you. He wrapped a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his warm side. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.
“I know, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll fix it. I’ll stay off the game for a week. How about that?”
You looked up at him, surprised. “A whole week? Are you going to survive?”
“Barely,” he rolled his eyes. “But I’ll manage. If it gets my girl back in my bed instead of on this shitty couch, I’ll survive.”
You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Deal.”
You sat there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the warmth of him. It was nice. This was the Sukuna you loved—the one beneath the abrasive, terrifying exterior.
“You know,” you said thoughtfully, breaking the silence. “We don’t have to completely ban games. We could just play something together. During normal hours.”
Sukuna looked down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Like what? More animal chores?”
“No, like a co-op game. Something we can both play on the PS5. Like It Takes Two. Or Overcooked.”
“What’s Overcooked?”
“It’s a cooking game. We run a kitchen together and have to serve orders before the time runs out.”
Sukuna scoffed, a confident smirk spreading across his face. “Baby, I would dominate a cooking game. I’m a master chef. Look at this bacon.”
“It gets really stressful,” you warned him, laughing. “People scream at each other. It ruins relationships.”
“Please,” he rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. “I’m the King of Curses. A little virtual kitchen isn’t going to break us.”
You grinned, burying your face in his chest. “Okay. But if you trap me in a corner with a fire extinguisher, I’m confiscating the PS5 again.”
“Deal,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your cheek. “Now eat your breakfast, woman. We have a kitchen to run.”
an: beige flag or red flag? i saw my 7 year old brother hit julian once in my island - i didn't even know the villagers are capable of being mad. ik damn well sukuna will pull this shit just to get back at someone hahaha. credits to: @idog-graphics for the cute animal crossing divider!! 🐶
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