18+. sum 𓏲 you and fratkuna are the kind of couple who break up & make up every other week. but when you swear you’re done with him and go off to date his rival, the new football team captain, can his frat brothers help him get you back ?
‘sabotaging your ex girlfriend’s new relationship to get her back? this can’t be a good idea.’
ΣΧ
“‘high value woman’ but your new man’s a misogynist?!”
ryomen sukuna’s time of irritation is approximately 9:17 PM.
toru gojo’s bedroom floor is velvet carpet with half-empty beer bottles rotting on the rug. his center table is littered with poker cards & sato’s candy wrappers, and geto suguru & sato gojo are avoiding eye contact so they don’t burst out in laughter as sukuna glares daggers at toru’s screen.
toru’s hands shake under sukuna’s glare but he holds the phone steady. the instagram post on screen is a slap to sukuna’s face.
HOT NEW CAMPUS COUPLE : FOOTBALL CAPTAIN NAOYA ZENIN & Y/N L/N !
and the photo is you. swollen lips & pretty gaze & a dress so short it makes sukuna’s jaw ache—but not as much as naoya’s arm around you does. beside you toji’s cousin naoya zenin is there, grin cocky, eyes glinting in the camera light and arm around your waist because his fugly ass doesn’t know you like to be held around the hips instead. sukuna’s jaw ticks.
“i’m gonna get her back.”
sato, suguru and toru all glance towards each other. they know what that voice means. there’s no talking him out of it.
but toru lowers his phone, tries regardless. “are you sure? y/n’s always been strong headed. she might hate you even more if—“
sukuna grabs his crotch aggressively. “keep talking and i’ll jizz on your face.”
toru squeaks. sukuna continues. “i know my own girl. know she’s a fucking brat, doing this shit to get on my nerves,” he growls. “she’s bored. testing me. probably doing this shit to see if i’ll show up at practice ‘n break his jaw for touching her.”
suguru is biting back a grin. “calling her your girl when she broke up with you last week? and the week before that?”
sukuna takes a swig of his beer but his jaw is ticking behind the can. “exactly. she knows where home is.”
sato’s grin is clumsy. “i dunno, man. seems like she’s got a new address,” he elbows suguru’s side. “naoya’s pants, wellesley street east.”
“M-4-Y, 1-H-5,” suguru snickers.
“glad you two have the energy to joke,” sukuna sets down his beer with a thud. “means you’ll have energy to help me out tomorrow night.
tomorrow? tomorrow can only mean one thing.
naoya zenin’s one million snap score party. and also, the party that the college football team throws every year before the start of a new season. the party that sukuna hasn’t been to since he quit the role of captain. the party where sukuna first found you drunk & dizzy in an alley just out back, perfume strong & heels clicky, stumbling into his chest with a clumsy grin & flushed cheeks as he held your hips against him to keep you from falling. you reeked of vodka & you kept slurring his name & ryomen sukuna thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
and now his pretty thing is somewhere curled into naoya’s side, and the thought makes sukuna’s throat itch.
suguru cocks his head. “so i’m guessing you have a plan?”
sukuna chugs his beer. “you know the plan.”
they do—they all do. sato is already grinning. suguru is shaking his head. toru is watching the fratboys with worried eyes.
sato, suguru and sukuna’s lips curl.
the plan?
sabotage.
# SHOW TIME !
at naoya zenin’s one million snapscore party, the air is heavy with the smell of drunken bodies / athlete sweat / something alcoholic dripping off a countertop. geto’s piercings glimmer in the evening dim. ryomen sukuna has his jaw tight. and sato gojo is already drunk and somewhere dancing, legworking with ease as rema’s azaman blares through the speakers.
sukuna and suguru are still scanning the scene when naoya saunters up to them.
naoya zenin is badly dyed hair, bright green eyes and a cocky lilt to his shoulders. he’s got the team’s varsity jacket around him—GO PANDAS!—and a grin too cruel to be kind. he raises his hands in faux welcome.
“suguru, sukuna,” naoya smiles. “didn’t think you’d make it.”
sukuna eyes him. “congratulations on your snapscore.”
“and my new position as captain,” naoya bites so hard his teeth show. “how’s retirement treating you, ryomen? enjoying life off the pitch?”
suguru slings an arm around sukuna, quick to come to his defence. “he’s doing great, thank you. how about you, captain? have you found confidence in your buck teeth?”
naoya’s smile dissolves.
“nice engagement bait,” naoya recovers. he’s grinning again but his lips only stretch, teeth hidden. “you always did bite like a bitch, suguru.”
“i try.”
“enjoy the booze,” naoya lets out a jagged breath, turning away. “try not to cry in your cups too much.”
sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest, suguru’s arm still slung around him. but he’s not watching naoya walk away. his eyes have drifted to you.
you across the party and perched on a seat at the bar, a glass of something pink in your hands and a dress so short he can trace the swell of your ass. and you’re laughing—oh god, you’re laughing, tucking hair behind your ear with flushed cheeks and a carefree smile. sukuna’s mouth dries. god, you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty, and sukuna wants to tell you that; wants to curl up beside you and wipe away the red dribbling down your chin and maybe tug your dress down over your ass. you’d swat at him and tell him he’s ruining your outfit. and then you’d kiss him because you like when he gets territorial anyways.
you laugh again, and ryomen sukuna is already moving.
that is, until naoya curls up behind you.
sukuna stops in his tracks. naoya snakes an arm around your waist from behind—your waist again, not your hips, fucking idiot—and sukuna’s jaw goes slack. he watches naoya press his parched, un-vaselined lips to your shoulder blades, and he doesn’t miss the slight tense of your shoulders before you ease into his chest.
sukuna’s jaw ticks. “suguru.”
“hm?”
“get sato. it’s time.”
suguru grins. “yes, boss.”
suguru disappears into the crowd. sukuna’s eyes shift back to you, back to naoya, back to the way his hands slide up your side and the way he whispers something in your ear. you laugh again and sukuna’s jaw twitches, because the sound itself comes out strained.
you’re uncomfortable. and he’d be a fool to miss it.
suguru reappears with sato in tow.
sato is drunk. swaying. red-bruised lips & booze in his breath. his cheeks are flushed pink & his hair sweat-sticky and he’s slung over suguru’s back like his life depends on it. he nuzzles into suguru’s neck. “mmh—you called?”
sukuna’s eyes are still on you. he nods towards the bar, “you see naoya?”
sato squints. “so ugly,”
“he’s got his hands on my girl.”
sato frowns. “that won’t do.”
“yeah,” sukuna murmurs, lifting a cup of punch off a passing tray. suguru is wiping rum off sato’s lip. sukuna passes the cup to sato. “you remember the plan?”
sato gives a drunken nod. and then he’s off.
the plan is simple: red punch, ugly naoya, combination. sato gojo is supposed to be a ninja, an image of stealth and diligence. instead he’s a wobbly drunken mess, giggling boyishly as he stumbles towards the bar.
he’s so close, sukuna’s eyes narrow. just a few more steps and then naoya will be drenched—
but sato trips. and as he falls, he pulls naoya’s pants down with him.
the situation is a whole mess.
punch everywhere. sticky on naoya’s shocked face, on sato’s fallen figure, on the party’s hardwood floor. and everyone is watching—staring—at naoya zenin covered in punch, pants on the floor. those boxers—is that undertale?
naoya’s face is blood drenched. “you drunken fucking idiot—”
“m’sorry,” sato cries, face down, hands still gripping naoya’s pants. “was tryna—hic—spill the punch, hnghh—suguru—“
“get the fuck off me!” naoya kicks at him, pants rippling around his ankles. someone is pulling out their phone to record. another is already recording. everyone’s laughing, including you, and even ryomen sukuna is struggling to bite back the chuckle on his lips.
naoya scrambles out of the party, shuffling out in his sans undertale boxers with his pants around his feet. suguru has already made his way to sato’s side.
sato’s eyes are teary, and his forehead is bruised red from naoya’s kick. suguru cups his face, brows knit. “hey man. you alright?”
sato groans. “i spilled the punch and the pants.”
“mhm,” geto snorts, smushing sato’s cheeks between his palms. “good job, buddy.”
“i did good?”
“so good,” geto smiles down at him. “come on, up you go.”
suguru helps sato up to his feet. sukuna is already moving.
towards you, you at the bar with your palm over your mouth to muffle your laugh as you watch naoya flee into the night. sukuna steps into your space. your eyes are still on the door before you slowly, slowly, turn your head around to him.
your pupils are blown. cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the alcohol, and your eyes focus for a minute before you grin.
“aww, look,” you beam. “if it isn’t my ex-boyfriend.”
sukuna shouldn’t take advantage.
he knows if you were sober, it’d be a different story. he knows you’d kick and hit at him, maybe snarl about his audacity to show his face around you. but you’re too many drinks too deep and as drunk and dizzy as the day he met you in that alleyway, so instead of kicking at him you lean forward to cup his cheeks.
sukuna tilts his head to kiss your palm. “Hi, baby. you’re drunk.”
“noo,” you slur. “i’m tipsy.”
“mhm,” sukuna grunts, stepping forward to slide his arms around your hips before you can lean off the chair. he tugs your dress down over your ass, then strokes your thigh. “third glass?”
“so close!” you squeeze his neck happily. “i’m on my sixth.”
sukuna hugs you back. but his face is scowling.
naoya zenin—that fucking idiot. sukuna knows your limit is four. he knows that any more than that and you’ll be sick for days, groggy and weak and unable to get out of bed. he squeezes your hips. “s’too much, sweetheart.”
“i know,” you pout into his neck. “i couldn’t resist.”
oh, his poor girl. sukuna kisses your hair. just once—just because he missed the warmth of your skin—but then he does it again and again and you giggle into his chest. fuck. he’s missed the sound bad.
“i’m sorry.”
sukuna’s heart stops. “what?”
“for going past my limit.”
sukuna can feel you pouting in his neck. he sighs, because of course that’s what you meant. not that you were sorry for leaving him or whatever his delusions had him hearing in that moment. after all, he should be the one apologizing anyway. right?
“you’re okay,” he hugs you closer, pressing your head into his chest. god, you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow; and the day after, and the day after. “i’m not mad, pretty. don’t apologize.”
you nod against him. “are you gonna take care of me?”
sukuna wishes drunk you didn’t talk so much.
because it hurts to have to say no, no but i want to, no but i would if i knew you wouldn’t hate me for it when you’re sober, so he doesn’t say it at all. instead he traces circles on your hips. “gimme your phone.”
you rest your chin on his chest and beam up at him drunkenly instead.
sukuna lets out a sigh, shifting just enough to reach for your purse without jerking you off his chest. he slips your phone into his palm and tries for the passcode. it unlocks in one go. the passcode is still his birthday, and sukuna sighs again.
“i’m gonna call shoko,” he murmurs into your ear. “she’ll take care of you, yeah?”
he could take care of you too, you know. if you’d let him. but you wouldn’t, so he bites his lip.
“shoko?” you coo into his neck. “i love shoko.”
“i know,” sukuna squeezes your thigh. “i know you do.”
TORU’S REMARK: I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #2: GO BIG OR GO HOME !
taught by: geto suguru
“like the great oikawa tooru said, if you’re gonna hit it? hit it until it breaks.”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna is itch itch itching.
itching to know if you’re okay. itching to know if shoko—or, ugh, naoya—let you have those crackers you like to help you settle your stomach, kept your room slightly warm, and for christ’s sake, kept you away from the advil. you love to reach for them after a night of drinking. sukuna knows it only makes your headaches worse.
you haven’t posted on instagram in days.
not that he should know since you have him blocked. but luckily your account is public and sato’s allowed him to log in on his fake instagram hair page. SlayedBySato. hit them up on IG.
sukuna is lying on the couch, nose buried in a cushion. he watches your highlights with bleary eyes. in the one he’s viewing, you’re in a tight black dress, red and blue hues lighting up your face. you’re dancing the night away, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering. his pretty party girl. god.
“look at my girl,” he mumbles into the pillow. “so fucking hot. i’ll slap the shit out of naoya zenin.”
geto laughs. “shouldn’t have let her get away, then.”
on the floor, sato has his head in suguru’s lap, pouting as geto presses an iced cloth to his forehead. he flinches. “sugu, how much longer?”
“shh,” geto hisses, even though the swelling went down ages ago.
sukuna rolls so his body lays upright, setting his phone down on his chest. “it’s not enough.” he glares at the ceiling. “that stunt with his boxers? did nothing but make a bunch of people laugh.”
suguru and sato look at each other. geto’s voice goes low.
“what are you saying?”
“i’m saying he’s a fraud and i want everyone to fucking know it.” sukuna sits up, tossing his phone unto the coffee table. “he’s still captain of the football team. but i have a video that could change that.”
“the season’s first game, naoya’s first official game as captain…” sato thinks. “are you saying you wanna pull something?”
“i’m thinking of playing it in the locker room TV. make the other boys lose respect for him.”
sato and suguru look at each other again.
“boring.” sato says.
“huh?”
“toru has access to the AV booth,” a slow grin curls its way onto suguru’s lips. “would be a fucking shame if he and i were to mess with the feed on game day.”
sato sits up from suguru’s lap. “locker room TV? boring as fuck, man. the sukuna i know? he’d play whatever video he has in front of the whole fucking stadium.”
sukuna looks at his frat brothers. at their wicked grins and stupid pride and willingness to follow him to the ends of the earth. it’s foolish, honestly. going to such lengths to destroy naoya zenin because he dared to look twice at his girl. but he’s a stupid man, and his frat brothers are even stupider, and this is what the sigma-chi brotherhood is really about.
sukuna’s lip twitches. “i fucking love you guys.”
“we know,” suguru says. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”
# GAME DAY !
LET’S GO PANDAS !
the chanting in the stadium sounds more like a roar.
the air is electric—buzzing, vibrating. cheerleaders on the sidelines with cheeks smeared in blue & red paint. there’s the scent of hot dogs & fried food grilling. a crowd in jerseys with flags in their hands. in the kaisen campus stadium, the midsummer air is thick with anticipation. it’s game day.
sukuna sucks the air into his lungs. he hasn’t been to the stadium in a minute.
sato has run off to get some hot dogs. suguru and toru should already be in the AV room. the pitch has no football players but marching band members instead, drums and trombones blaring music across the grass. sukuna should go over to his and sato’s seats. instead he’s on the stairs, staring down at you.
is it fair for you to look this happy with him away from you?
he shakes the thought away. he always wants you to be happy—he thinks. but happiness with naoya? naoya zenin? he’s not quite sure about that. actually, he is. sukuna knows he’s fucking furious. he knows he doesn’t like the fact that you have naoya’s number on your back, or the fact that you’re jumping and cheering his name when the players haven’t even walked out yet. his jaw ticks. something ugly curls in his throat. he swallows it away.
he stares a little longer. watches your skirt swish around your thighs, watches your arms wave in the air, watches your hips sway to the music. you’ve clearly recovered and your dancing is out of tune as always, and sukuna bites back a smile.
he’s still smiling when you look up at him.
his face falls.
your head lifts towards him, and he doesn’t miss the way your body tenses. your arms drop to your sides. your palms curl into fists.
uh oh.
you look away, pausing for a moment. and then you trudge between bodies and make your way over to what sukuna can only assume is the concession stand.
sukuna follows. he doesn’t give himself time to think any better of it.
——
caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar. the concession stand smells like caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar.
and vanilla, but not the syrupy sweet kind. it’s the kind that sukuna smells whenever he kisses that spot below your ear, or presses his lips to the dip of your waist. at the concession stand, sukuna stands behind you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t see the frown on your face as you stand in line in front of him.
“go away.” you deadpan.
“i’m here to eat.”
“You will choke on your food and die.”
harsh.
sukuna’s used to it though. so when it’s your turn to get a donut, he slips out his wallet and drops some cash before you can even protest. the stand worker takes the excess money with a grin. you turn to sukuna with a frown.
“what are you doing?”
your tone is mean but ryomen sukuna can’t take you seriously. your hair has ribbons tangled throughout it. you look so fucking cute.
he looks you in the eyes. “let me check your temperature. feeling feverish? at all?”
you only eye him in response. “stop caring about me.”
“can’t,” he mutters. “let me check it.”
he pads closer, and you’re still glaring daggers at him, but you don’t bite his palm as it cups your face. he pats the back of his hand against your neck, then your forehead, then your chest—and then his palm’s on your cheek again.
“you had six drinks that night,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “was so worried. don’t like when you go over your limit.”
“i’m fine,” your voice is sharp—or trying to be. “don’t touch me.”
he shifts his hand into his pocket. “okay.” he says. “i’m gonna get you back.”
that sets you off. “i’m done with you, asshole!” you stab your finger into his chest. “i’m serious—no more on and off bullshit. i’ve moved on. i’m with naoya, for fuck’s sake. you just can’t accept that cuz of your stupid little ego!”
you’re still stabbing his chest. sukuna only watches you patiently, letting you yell to your heart’s content.
“and i hate you!” you tug his collar just to shove him away again. “i’m moving on. i’m happy now. so don’t try to act like you’re still my boyfriend!”
“sorry,” he trails off. he’s still watching you poke him with half-lidded eyes.
“i like your ribbons,” he murmurs. “you look pretty.”
“ugh!”
you storm off, and sukuna bites his cheek as your ribbons swing behind you. his hand finds the spot where you hit his chest and he sighs.
ryomen sukuna needs to get you back. and the sooner he does? the better.
———-
sato gojo has five bomboclat hotdogs in his lap.
how humongous! and worst of all, he refuses to share them with sukuna, who left his own food at the concession stand while his mind fixated on your face. you looked so pretty yelling at him. fuck. has he gone mad?
he shakes the thought away. he has his phone in his hands, facetime call with suguru on screen. toru gojo is setting up a monitor in the background with shaky hands. suguru has his phone at a poor angle and he’s humming into its mic with glee.
sato hooks his mustard-sticky chin over sukuna’s shoulder. “yo, sugu.” he says to the call.
“yo,”
“i have five hotdogs,” sato says humbly. “i’m saving a quarter for you.”
“love your generosity.”
“thank you, brother.”
sukuna shoves sato’s face away, ignoring the pout on his face as he rubs his still-bruised forehead. “suguru. how’s the prep going?”
“we’re all good here,” suguru says, turning the call camera to face toru and the set-up. “toru, you’re on video. say hi.”
“uh—hi!”
“hey, twin!” sato’s chin is back on sukuna’s shoulder. he frowns. “i didn’t save you any hotdogs.”
“that’s okay,” toru pushes up his glasses. “i don’t like hotdogs much anyways.”
suguru laughs behind the camera. “aww. i’ll get you a hotdog, buddy.”
“guys, focus.” sukuna pinches his nose. “the footage. is it ready?”
“yup,” suguru pops the p. just waiting for your signal.”
down on the pitch, the teams are lively.
the stadium is roaring. confetti everywhere, cheers and screams from fangirls and fanboys alike. the campus team jogs out in high spirits. and naoya zenin is there, golden boy of the season, arms in the air and waving like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. sukuna tries not to roll his eyes.
it’s a new season, and this one begins with a speech.
and who else to deliver it but the new captain, naoya? he has his helmet in his arm, grin wide, eyes gleaming. he stands on the podium with a mic to his mouth, and then he clears his throat.
his voice bellows. “GO PANDAS!”
the crowd roars. “go pandas!” sato cheers along. sukuna smacks his head.
“it is my honor, as the new captain of the football team, to welcome you all to the new season. kaisen university has suffered many losses. but this year, under my lead, i swear to you all—victory!”
the crowd roars again. sato is smart enough to not get caught up in the high spirits this time.
naoya raises a hand to calm the crowd. “but first off, i want to say a thank you to our alumni, sponsors, team—“
suguru turns the phone camera to himself, grinning. “i think this is the time?”
“your thinking is correct.”
“hit it, toru.”
toru fumbles with the control panel. he plugs in a mic, and suguru brings his mouth to the head.
“hey naoya,”
suguru’s voice crackles through the stadium speakers. the crowd stills. the football team on the grass is frozen in confusion.
“the alumni, sponsors, team you’re talking about,” you can hear the smile in suguru’s voice. “is it these ones?”
toru hits a button.
the big screen flickers.
the static shifts to a video. it’s one of those out of focus, wobbly snapchat ones, captioned ‘this guy’ with a bunch of laughing emojis. someone says something in the background. naoya scoffs.
“alumni? sponsors? they’re all a bunch of old has-beens with heart conditions,” he spits. “lousy fuckers with too much money. yet they can’t even buy us a trophy. idiots.”
but the video doesn’t end there. naoya is talking while he changes out of his uniform, focused on the locker in front of him. “and this shitty team,“ he bites. “dumb fuckers who would need help to wipe their asses. can’t follow instructions for shit. i see why sukuna fucking left.”
the video ends. all that’s left is the grey replay button on the screen. suguru shifts back away from the mic, holding his phone to his face. “holy shit,” he says into the facetime call. “we fucking did that.”
“yeah,” sukuna says. “we did.”
but he’s distracted. naoya is arguing with someone on field but sukuna doesn’t care to see what that’s about. instead his eyes are on you down near the pitch, your hands gripping the stands. he can’t tell if you’re confused, distraught, happy, sad. it’s fucking killing him. he needs to see your face.
sato climbs unto his chair. he cups his hands around his mouth. “GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!”
sukuna’s eyes widen in alarm, but others are already joining in. OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD! GET NA-O-YA OFF-THE-FIELD!”
on the pitch, naoya’s face flushes in embarrassment. “you sorry sacks of shit! do you fucking know who i am?!”
they’ll never know, because he never has the chance to tell. security guards are escorting him away before he even knows it.
sukuna’s eyes flit down the bleachers. back down to you. he finds you hopping at your seat, ribbons swishing as you chant along with the crowd.
OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!
sukuna’s lip twitches. get him off the field.
———
“OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!”
the chanting of the stadium is still buzzing in sukuna’s ears.
toru gojo left early, body aching with anxiety and in dire need of a nap. sukuna’s decided it’s about time to leave too—college football games aren’t really his thing anymore.
suguru and sato are geeking out over the whole thing behind him as sukuna trudges forward with his hands in his pockets. he’s half-smiling. he still can’t believe the whole scene had you chanting along and hopping eagerly in your seat. so cute. your ribbons were bouncing everywhere. so fucking cute.
“this is all your fault!”
sukuna knows that voice anywhere.
sato and suguru know it too. the smiles quickly leave their faces, brows knitting in alarm. the three quietly speed up towards the corridor, and the scene has sukuna seeing red.
“you dumb fucking whore,” naoya has you cornered against the wall. “all this shit because of you and your crazy, batshit boyfriend. ‘deal’ my fucking asshole. you see how they embarrassed me? because of you?”
sukuna’s already moving. but geto pulls him back. “listen.”
“you can’t pin this on me,” you try to keep your voice steady, but sukuna knows how your voice gets when you’re about to snap. naoya’s face is too close to yours for his liking. “you’re the one who said all that stupid shit. take some fucking responsibility.”
“responsibility?” naoya’s teeth curl. his breath is hot against your lip. “deal my fucking ass. this was your plan all along wasn’t it, stupid bitch? date me and get closer to me so you can sabotage me along with your boyfriend—”
“naoya,” your voice is dangerous. “i’m warning you, get back.”
“or what?” he spits in your face. “you’ll call your big bad boyfriend to save you? run to him like some stupid little whore—?”
you slap naoya silly.
and for a moment, sukuna’s shoulders un-tense. he’s been holding his breath the entire time, fingers curled into the wall, suguru’s hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward. but fuck, he’s proud. that’s his fucking girl. fuck. why’d he have to go and lose you?
but he can’t relax for long.
“you fucking bitch!”
naoya shoves you against the wall and you thud against it. sukuna doesn’t have to pry geto’s hand away—they’re already charging in.
naoya’s eyes widen as soon as he sees the trio. suguru swings. sato punches. but naoya dodges both, shoulder bumping into them as he slips between the two. he should be stopped by sukuna—but sukuna charges straight to your side, tugging you to his chest, breath heaving. naoya zenin escapes.
suguru and sato’s eyes flit towards the exit. their breathing is sharp, ragged. their eyes drift back to you in alarm. fuck. you’re more important.
sukuna hugs you to his chest, tight. his hand presses your head under his chin. he wants to pretend you’re not fucking shaking in his arms, but god you are, god—you are.
“you’re okay, baby,” he lies. your hand is fisting his collar like you want to pull him closer—or maybe push him away. “you’re okay. i’ve got you, you’re okay.”
you squeeze his collar. “ryo,” your voice is small, “don’t go after him.”
“i won’t baby, swear to god i won’t.”
but that’s just another lie. he presses your head further into his chest, palm heavy on your head. and then he mouths to suguru and sato:
GO. FUCKING. KILL HIM.
they don’t need to be told twice.
“ryo,” you whisper in his chest. “where are they going?”
“they’re giving us privacy,” he lies, and you’ll hate him for it tomorrow but he’ll settle for holding you today. he kisses your head. “are you hurt? hit your head? look at me.”
he can feel your lips jut out in his chest. “i’m fine.”
“i told you to look at me.”
you grumble, but oblige regardless. and god, sukuna’s heart aches. you have your chin on his chest, lashes tear rimmed, cheeks flushed and lips jut out in a stubborn pout. your eyes are glistening with wet. sukuna’s jaw aches.
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
and he’ll send him there personally. he kisses your forehead, “gorgeous.” and then his thumbs wipe your lashes. “i’m gonna check if you’re concussed. do you have a headache?”
“this is so stupid,” you grumble. “i’m not concussed. and you know it.”
sukuna ignores you, cups your face in his palms. “what day of the week is it?”
“monday.” you grumble.
“gonna say some numbers, say them back to me in reverse,” he strokes your cheek. “four-two-four-two-five-six-four.”
you say them back perfectly. sukuna kisses your forehead. “good job baby,” he murmurs. “smart girl. does anything hurt?”
“no.”
“don’t lie to me.”
you rest the side of your face on his chest, pausing for a moment. then you raise a hand to grip his bicep. “my head hurts. just a little.”
“anything else?”
“i was scared,” you mutter, small. “i was so scared, ryo.”
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
it’s the second time sukuna thinks that, but he shakes the thought away. he squeezes your hips. tilts your chin so you’re looking up at his face. your lashes are wet & your lips are wobbly & ryomen sukuna thinks you are grace.
“shh,” his thumb rubs your bottom lip. “you’re safe. you’re always safe with me.”
“i know,” your voice croaks as you nod.
“fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, nose, cheek, forehead. he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. and then he finds your lips, tongue licking your mouth before he kisses you deep and slow.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between your lips. “m’gonna kill naoya.”
“noo,” you whine, tugging his collar. “i told you not to do that.”
sukuna kisses his teeth, stepping back so he can hoist you up into his arms. his hands dip beneath your thighs to haul you up, and now you’re peering down at him through those sad, wet lashes. he kisses the pout off your lips. squeezes your thighs with his big hands. opens his mouth to say—
“i knocked that sucker out the park!”
sato and geto saunter back into the corridor, grins wicked, steps light. their knuckles are bloody and their jaws are bruised and their smiles are so bright they’re practically gleaming.
you turn to look at them. sukuna grabs the back of your head and pushes you into his shoulder. you pout into his neck as he keeps his palm heavy on your head.
sato is shadowboxing. “right hook—left hook—“ he punches the air. “clean hit to the jaw. taught the bloody wanker a good fucking lesson.” he fakes a british accent.
suguru nods, hands in his pockets & smile smug. “it was a good punch.”
“right?!”
sukuna’s lip tugs. he clicks his tongue as sato fakes punches at suguru, suguru dodging them with lazy laughter. sukuna clears his throat. sato and suguru perk up.
“take her to the nurse,” his voice is low. “make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”
suguru steps forward and sukuna gently moves you into his arms. you frown up at suguru. “i’m not concussed.”
geto only chuckles, shifting your thigh over his arm to lift you better. “i don’t think so either. but your boyfriend runs a strict program, doesn’t he?”
“ex-boyfriend,” you bite. “and he’s not stricter than me.”
“never,” suguru smiles. “you’re the strictest.”
sukuna scoffs behind you. sato just says he likes your ribbons.
he watches the boys leave with you. sato bouncing beside geto, you still arguing in suguru’s arms. but then he thinks about naoya. thinks about how he called his girl a whore, how he had the guts to shove you against a wall instead of just taking your slap like a fucking man. his jaw locks.
his feet are already moving. but then he remembers. don’t go after him.
he’s already broken that promise, already sent sato and suguru to beat him bloody. and he trusts his frat brothers, trusts they didn’t go easy on him. but his knuckles ache. he wants to beat naoya down so fucking badly.
but he knows if he sees naoya now, it will only end in death. and sukuna won’t be the one in the deathbed.
sukuna slams his fist into the wall. “fuck!”
SUGURU’S REMARK: CHILLL. WE CONTROLLED THAT
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #3: ON THE OFFENSE !
taught by: toji zenin
‘want your girl back? then get fucking serious. stop playing her damn games and show her who’s the man.’
ΣΧ
“i have to kill naoya zenin.”
on toji zenin’s bedroom floor, ryomen sukuna’s jaw is tight. his hands dig into his thighs and suguru sits beside him with worried eyes. toji zenin is on the edge of his bed, running a brush through a jet black lace front wig. his son, five-and-a-half year old megumi zenin, sits beside him with a beach blond color 613 bone-straight wig on his head.
megumi tugs his father’s sleeve, voice flat.
“daddy, i have a buss down.”
toji doesn’t look up from his mannequin. “looks great, kiddo.”
toji zenin is twenty-four, stubble on his chin and single-ish student dad. single-ish because megumi’s mother left him when he turned twenty-one, but now he’s engaged to a pretty rich lady who sukuna still can’t believe forgave him for his lies. whatever—that’s a story for another day. even though toji’s girl is rich, he still insists on picking up odd jobs here and there to support him and meg rather than relying on her money. he’s currently working as a wig influencer for ISEEHAIR®.
on sukuna’s right, suguru has his hair in twin braids—courtesy of megumi zenin—and the same kind of ribbons you wore on game day—courtesy of SlayedBySato. he pats sukuna’s shoulder. “hey man, it’s okay. she’s okay.”
“you don’t fucking know that,” sukuna spits. “you don’t know it that bastard is still around her. i should’ve fucking killed him. slammed his skull into the wall back in the stadium.”
megumi blinks, gaze flat. he tugs his father’s sleeve. “daddy, is uncle kuna okay?”
“he’s in love,” toji answers, reaching for the hot comb. “makes you stupid.”
megumi nods, blond wisps of hair sticking to his cheek. then he stares at uncle sukuna for a bit longer before sliding his chubby body off the bed. “i’m gonna lay my edges.”
megumi zenin pads away.
suguru smiles after him. but then his smile dissolves, and he shifts his gaze back to sukuna. sukuna’s jaw is still tight, eyes glaring daggers at toji’s bedroom floor, and suguru elbows his side. “relax, man. brooding’s not gonna fix anything.”
“suguru’s right,” toji grumbles. “sato and suguru already beat him down. that didn’t make you feel better, did it?”
sukuna squints.
“you want your girl back? stop playing her damn games,” toji continues. “show her she can’t just keep playing around. you’ve embarrassed naoya, sabotaged him. all you’ve done is play along with her bratty lil’ antics.”
megumi’s voice comes from the other room. “daddy, can you help me lay my edges?”
“in a minute, kid.” toji doesn’t look up from the mannequin. “you want your girl? beat her at her own fucking game.”
sukuna grits his teeth. suguru slings an arm around him, braids swinging. “there’s a party for the football team tonight,” he says. “pretty sure y/n will be there again.”
sukuna swallows. thinks about it. and then the door swings open.
in comes sato gojo with megumi zenin in his arms. the five year old has wig edges laid, hair on fleek, and there is no doubt he’s been SlayedBySato.
sato’s grin is clumsy.
“did someone say party?”
# SHOW TIME !
at the party, the bass is so loud the speakers are moving.
not a lot—just a little—but the sound is so loud that sato is pouting as suguru helps him cover his ears. geto yells at some footballer to turn the music down. it takes them too long to comply.
sukuna is on a couch trying to ignore the babe curling herself into his side.
pamela? no—pairin. hair dyed mauve & flushed pink cheeks & a pretty nice rack—not that sukuna is looking. well he did look, he’s just a man and she’s got some pretty nice tits, but it’s okay. he still thinks yours are perkier.
pairin is trailing a hand up his thigh.
“ryo,” she coos. “it’s been forever. i’ve missed you.”
it has been forever. ryomen sukuna hasn’t slept with pairin, or any other girl for that matter, since he started dating you. yes you’ve broken up and gotten back together a hundred times, and technically when you’re broken up he’s a free man, but sukuna knows if he dared to touch another woman even when you’re not with him he’d never hear the end of it. so he’s always been patient. always waited.
which is why it’s not fucking fair for you to let naoya curl up behind you right now.
his eyes narrow. ryomen sukuna watches as naoya slips behind you at the bar, arm around your waist once again. fucking idiot. sukuna doesn’t even care about his arm on your waist instead of your hips anymore. once he gets his hands on naoya, he won’t even have an arm to begin with.
but sukuna doesn’t understand it.
he knows his girl. he knows you. he knows you bark more than you bite, he knows you’re bratty and stubborn and selfish and petty, and he knows men like naoya zenin are not your fucking type. he knows you would never put up with a man who would even yell at you—he found that out the hard way. so how could you let naoya touch you so casually after he dared to disrespect you?
are you really moving on?
he’s heard about it before. boundaries crumbling when people fall in love. is that what’s happening here? is naoya manipulating you? are you being pressured? can he kill him?
or do you actually—god forbid—like naoya?
sukuna scoffs. fucking hell if you do. he’ll kill naoya so you have no one to love. he’ll be damned if the man who steals your heart after him is one that doesn’t even know how to hold you right. naoya zenin will die today. ryomen sukuna will make sure of it.
“ryo,” pairin coos. when did her tits press against his chest?
she’s shifted so much that she’s practically on top of him, thigh digging into his hip. sukuna kisses his teeth. “don’t fucking call me that.”
pairin pouts, sliding a hand down his chest. “so mean. ever since you started dating that girl, you’ve become so mean to me.”
sukuna hears a laugh. it’s you, laughing at something the bartender says. another poor man who will be joining sukuna’s kill list. or maybe not, since you seem happy. you take a sip of your drink and frown when a drop lands on your chest. so cute.
pairin lifts a hand to shift his jaw back to her face. “you’re smiling.”
“yeah,” his voice is bored. “not at you.”
she frowns. “you used to be fun.”
“i used to be single.”
he still is right now, but not for long. never for long. he watches as you take another cup from the bartender. that’s drink number three. behind you naoya presses his face into your neck, and sukuna watches as you ease into him.
ryomen sukuna is blinded by rage.
he’s not quite thinking when he does it. he’s not quite thinking when he grabs pairin by the back of her neck, shoving her lips onto his. she squeaks, “mmph—!” as sukuna presses his lips against her. she tries to sneak her tongue past his lips. he keeps his mouth shut.
sukuna sees it.
he keeps his eyes open the whole time, and across the bar he watches your face lift. you’re laughing, you always are, but then your gaze drifts across the room to him.
the drink in your hand nearly drops.
you do that little thing where your chest heaves—anxious?—and your fingers curl tight around the cup in your hands. your brows furrow like you’re glaring but your lips are wobbly, oh god, they’re so wobbly—
he pushes pairin off his lap.
but it’s too late. you’re already off your chair, scrambling, and sukuna can’t see that well from this far but he knows your eyes are wet. he saw that tear slip down your cheek. he bolts for the exit but someone pulls him back by the shoulder—
“sukuna?” sato’s brows are knit. “what the fuck? what’s wrong man?”
sukuna’s chest is still heaving. his eyes are still on the door.
ryomen sukuna has lost the girl once again.
TOJI’S REMARK: NOT THAT KIND OF OFFENSE, IDIOT.
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #4: SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE !
taught by: sato gojo
“girls like y/n? they like to keep things difficult. and your prefer it just like that, don’t you?”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna hasn’t left his room in days.
two weeks. it’s been two weeks since he kissed another girl and watched you leave with tears in your eyes. and sukuna’s disgusted. stomach against the mattress and head buried in a pillow. you’re pretty when you cry—you’re always pretty—but not so much when he’s the cause of your tears.
SlayedBySato is officially blocked by you on instagram. sato’s tried to come in to cheer sukuna up, but to no avail. sukuna won’t eat anything suguru cooks, or any food at all for that matter. megumi sometimes opens his door and stares at him with bored eyes before leaving. toru comes into his room to sit on the floor and read. he’s always shaky & anxious and glancing up at sukuna every five seconds when he does that, but he still comes in to offer his company anyways.
sukuna’s scrolling through his phone, eyes watching nothing in particular. he gets a notification. probably suguru offering him food. maybe just team snapchat. he ignores it. but then his phone chimes again.
[ mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx ]
sukuna’s brows knit. you have him blocked. that can’t be you.
but he clicks the message anyways. and it is you, and the first thing that greets him is your profile picture. you’re smiling big into the camera, angle low & silly, and somehow you still manage to look bright and beautiful. sukuna swallows. scrolls down to your new messages.
mine🫀: i know what you did at that party was just to get my attention.
mine🫀: since u wanna be pathetic i’ll give you more opportunity to do so
mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx
sukuna clicks the document. there are no greetings, no ‘to whom may be concerned’, no date or titles. just three things.
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
his phone chimes again.
mine🫀: you have one week. if you want me back you’ll complete everything on this list. if u dc just ignore it.
mine🫀: bye sukuna.
sukuna stares at the list. studies every word. contemplates each task.
and then he laughs.
yeah. that’s his fucking girlfriend.
# SHOW TIME
sukuna trudges into the frathouse living room with his laptop under his arm. at the center table sato is already there, humming contentedly while playing a game of monopoly by himself. he perks up when he hears the sound of the door.
“well, well,” sato sings. “look who crawled out of my grandfather’s ass.”
“what does that even mean?”
“ignore him,” suguru hums. he steps out from the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot jollof rice in his hands. he scoops some with his spoon, blows on it, and offers a bite to sukuna. “here, try some.”
“mm,” sukuna murmurs, leaning down for a bite. it’s hot, chewy—but then sukuna frowns.
“there’s no maggi in this rice.”
geto’s face falls. “no more food for you.”
whatever. sukuna sits at the center table, setting up his laptop right over sato’s monopoly game. he ignores sato’s protests as he opens up your shopping cart. “she sent me a list.” he announces. “of stuff i have to do if i want her back.”
suguru slides in at the opposite side of the table, brows raised. “show us.”
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
sato blinks at the screen. “dick n’ balls,” he smiles wide. “i love your girlfriend.”
“tread lightly.”
suguru squints at the last item. “this is bad. she’s saying she wants you to confess in front of the whole school? like on game day?” his eyes lift to sukuna. “the dean might actually suspend you if we pull something. you know how much trouble i got in when they heard my voice on the speakers?”
“i had to pay him out of trouble,” sato shudders. “and it wasn’t cheap.”
sukuna frowns. if sato’s complaining? it definitely wasn’t cheap.
but sukuna only opens up your cart, taking in the items on screen. he’s not surprised when he scrolls through the items. lingerie from bordelle & agent provocateur, bags from dior and bottega vennetta, shoes, makeup—the high end kind—and then a bunch of sex toys, also unnecessarily overpriced. his lips tug when he notices a pair of lacy black panties. he already knows that’s for him.
or it could be for naoya to fuck you in, so his face falls.
sato slumps against sukuna’s shoulder. “wow. pricey stuff.”
“she likes nice things,” he mutters, double checking the items. he makes sure everything is in CAD and not USD, and then he checks out. nearly $5000 on clothing, accessories, lingerie. CIBC sends him a notification for possible fraud on his card immediately. he clicks no, this was me.
suguru whistles. “well, that’s that.” he leans back on his palms. “on to task number two?”
——
sukuna taps his pencil against the paper in front of him. “how do i spell exquisite.”
“e-s-q, u-z-t,” sato answers proudly. “all you have to do is sound out the vowels. i learned that trick back in freshman year.”
“there are no vowels in what you just spelled.”
suguru drags a palm over his face. he watches as sato strokes his chin, both he and sukuna staring at the half-empty letter with intense focus. he’s not sure whether to start with explaining to sato that this is not the spelling of exquisite, or if he should let sukuna know that ‘e’ and ‘u’ are indeed vowels.
he chooses to do neither. “sukuna, what do you need the word ‘exquisite’ for?”
“i need to tell her her ass is exquisite.”
“in her apology letter?”
“Yes.”
oh, okay. actually no—it’s not okay. suguru pinches his nose. “this is an apology letter. what does her ass have to do with this?!”
“she likes when i say nice things about her body,” sukuna mumbles, low. geto softens. that’s actually sweet.
“i’m gonna tell her i like her nipples.”
suguru snatches the letter from his hands.
he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop to the poorly written text, and he’s reading it in his head before he can think any better of it: Hello, I am sorry. Your ass is esquizit. Come back to me. Nipples.
“jesus fucking christ,” suguru breathes.
sukuna scowls at him. “you didn’t let me finish the last sentence.”
sato hugs his knees. “i like this letter.”
suguru ignores them. he puts the letter aside, and tears out a new sheet of paper from the notepad on the table. “look, ryomen. i know you’re not good with words. and i know y/n it’s important to you. so we’re gonna help you.”
sato leans back on his palms. “yup, we are.”
“i meant i’m gonna help him,” suguru glares at sato. “tell me what’s on your mind. what you think. what you feel in your chest when you think about her. if she looked you in the eye and told you she was upset about all you’ve done, what would you say to her?”
sukuna scowls at nothing in particular, pondering. “i’d kiss her.”
“that’s what you would do,” suguru wags his pencil. “what would you say?”
sukuna thinks a bit harder. he thinks about how you look when you’re sad, how you don’t laugh, how your bottom lip juts out in that wobbly pout that makes his stomach hurt. he thinks about how you’d cuss at him before the tears fall, and then you’d grip his collar while spitting teary insults, before collapsing in his chest and letting him kiss your cheek till you quiet down. sukuna thinks very hard.
“i’d tell her i’m sorry,” he says. “and that i hate it when she cries.”
suguru nods. “go on,”
“i’d tell her i was scared,” he murmurs. “of her moving on. of her finding someone better.” he breathes. “i don’t want her to be with anyone that’s not me.”
suguru and sato stay silent.
“i don’t even care about naoya,” sukuna’s voice is tired. his palm slides over his face. “i just want her to be with me.”
“aww,” sato coos.
“shut up.”
but sukuna doesn’t shove sato away when he leans over to hug his head. sato pats sukuna’s face into his chest. “suguru,” sukuna mutters. “can you say that i miss her?”
“already did.”
suguru turns the paper around to reveal the words. sukuna squints to make out the words behind the pretty cursive.
dear y/n,
i know i've said sorry a thousand times. i know it doesn't mean much coming from me. but i mean it. i'm sorry for the party. i'm sorry for kissing someone else. i'm sorry for making you cry. i hate it when you cry, hate when i make you sad. i hate it when you look at me like you don't trust me anymore.
i was scared. scared you were moving on. scared you were finding someone better. i was scared i was losing you for good.
i don't care about naoya. i don't care about other women. i don't care about any of it. i just want you.
i want to earn you back. i want to earn your trust. i want to be the person you deserve.
i love you. i've never loved anyone else like you. i don't want to love anyone else. please give me a chance to prove it.
— sukuna
sukuna blinks at the letter. “i sound pathetic.”
“you are pathetic,” suguru sets it down. “for y/n at least.”
he is, isn’t he?
suguru taps his pencil against the table. “so, do you like it? or shall we draft a new one?”
sukuna thinks about it. sato is still patting his head.
“nah,” he says. “it’s perfect.”
SATO’S REMARK: OH WE’RE SO GETTING HER BACK
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #5: HAVE YOU EVER APOLOGIZED WITH YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE ?!
taught by: nanami kento
“this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
ΣΧ
the letter is done. the shopping cart is cleared. but the boys of sigma chi can’t rest just yet.
they do so anyway. suguru is sprawled lazily on the couch, legs spread and popcorn bucket in his hands. sato has his cheek on geto’s chest, curled up beside him. and even sukuna is leaning into the warmth, legs crossed on the floor and his head against suguru’s leg. the tv is playing something none of them truly care about.
suguru takes a bite of popcorn, teeth sticky. “how the fuck are we gonna pull off the last task?”
sato tosses a kernel into sukuna’s open mouth. “i have no idea.”
suguru pops another kernel between his lips, and then feeds a bite through sato’s open mouth on his chest. “before we even get to that—i’ve been thinking. what about that deal naoya mentioned? back in the stadium?”
sato and sukuna perk up.
sukuna’s jaw ticks again. he’s tried not to think about it. tried not to think about how naoya dared to raise his voice at you, how he dared to shove you back in his anger. he licks his canines. his chest is hot.
“i’ve been thinking about it too,” sato says. “ i have a theory.”
“uh oh.”
“don’t be mean,” sato pouts, and suguru pulls his cheek lovingly. he leans off suguru’s chest, palms still on his shoulders for balance. “my theory? y/n wants to make sukuna jealous. naoya wants him jealous too. boom. they work together and date.”
suguru nods. “but now, naoya thinks y/n is dating him so she and sukuna can work together to trash his reputation,” he muses. “and so he’s treating her badly.”
sukuna’s nails dig into his palms.
he knew you wanted him jealous—that’s obvious. but the thought of his stupid antics putting you in danger? with naoya? fuck. you’re a sharp girl. but you’re all bark and no bite. what the fuck is he supposed to do if naoya even thinks of disrespecting you again?
he speaks up. “back at the party. the one we went to after the game,” he bites his cheek. “i saw her with him again. that’s why i got mad. kissed that pamela bitch.”
“pairin.”
“i don’t give a fuck.” sukuna grumbles. “but that’s not what tripped me up. she was with naoya again—even after how he treated her.” his fingers dig into the couch. “she drags me by the ear when i raise my voice just slightly. why would she stay by naoya after all that? just to make me jealous?”
geto thinks out loud. “what if he has something on her?”
the boys go quiet.
for you to stay with someone like naoya, genuine or not? sukuna knows it must be something serious. he leans off the couch, turns to his boys.
“we need to start planning that final task.”
# SHOW TIME !
“kenny,” suguru begs. “please. we need your help.”
nanami pushes up his glasses. “immediately no.”
the theatre hall is humongous.
thousands of students fitted into velvet seats. there’s some ceremony today—what it’s about, sukuna doesn’t know—but he knows it’s the only opportunity he has to fulfill your last task. the next gameday is a week away, past the one week timeframe you specified.
sukuna also knows you’re in the crowd. he’d seen you sitting close to the front. right next to naoya.
god, you looked gorgeous. low cut top that exposes your plush breasts because you have no sense of time and place. skirt short as always, bunched up around your thighs, and lashes fluttering. bored. you looked hopelessly bored and beautiful next to naoya, and it wasn’t till shoko slipped into the seat beside you that your glossy lips smiled again. fuck. sukuna hopes he’ll get to speak to you soon.
but right now, he and the boys are trying to convince nanami to let him show up on stage in place of presenting his speech.
they’re all backstage. sigma chi treasurer nanami kento is sat at a makeshift desk, tie pin straight, expression flat as usual. “i will not allow you to take over my speech in the name of love and sacrifice. this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
“nanaken, you’re not listening,” sato shakes his shoulders. “this is a matter of life and death—our last chance to help sukuna get his girl back.” sato pleads. “if we don’t succeed, he’ll be depressed!”
“i won’t be depressed.”
“he’ll be depressed!”
nanami only pinches his nose.
“look,” suguru starts, leaning over the table with his palms. “let’s make a deal. you let us crash your speech? sato buys you all the BL manhwa you want.”
nanami perks up. “BL?”
sato frowns. “sato?”
“exactly,” suguru says. “i know you’re tired of reading semantic error on a screen. we’ll get you all the physical copies—and whatever other BL you have on your reading list. all you have to do is let us crash your set.”
nanami thinks about it. thinks about how nice it’d be to see jang jaeyoung on a page, how he’d be able to have the story right there between his fingertips. he thinks about it. ponders hard.
and then he nods. “you’ve got yourselves a deal.”
——
each speech passes by way too fast.
well honestly, not fast enough. the audience is snoozing. they forget to clap after some speeches, and in the crowd sukuna can see you watching, bored. you have your head against shoko’s shoulder, phone in your hands. a man in a suit walks up to the stage to remind the audience of ‘etiquette’ and ‘keeping their phones away’. you roll your eyes and take a selfie with shoko, lips puckered out.
god, he misses you.
he closes the backstage curtains. suguru is waving his speech around. “you’re up next, man. you ready?”
sukuna swallows. why the fuck does he feel anxious? sukuna doesn’t do anxious. angry? horny? yes. but anxious?
he swipes the speech from suguru’s hands. “yeah. m’ready.”
———
sukuna is not ready.
but he’s not anxious either, so that’s a win. his body’s vibrating with something he can’t quite name. the audience is clapping away as the current presenter leaves.
suguru claps his back. “go.”
and go he does. he rips the velvet curtains apart and trudges his way to the podium. his hands are in his pockets and his gaze is bored and through the corner of his eyes all he can see is you you you.
you, with your brows furrowed and lips in a pout he wants to kiss off. you stare after him with big eyes, before your eyes go even bigger. he watches you facepalm.
that shouldn’t make him laugh. he sets his speech on the podium.
in the audience, shoko is nudging your shoulder. “girl. isn’t that your man?”
naoya turns to frown at her. “excuse me?”
you and shoko ignore him. “i have no idea what he’s up to.” you lie.
on the podium sukuna clears his throat. the TVs overhead are zoomed in on his face. his hair is golden-red under the lights, and sweat glistens on his skin, and sukuna takes in a deep breath.
“my name is ryomen sukuna, and i’m the previous captain of the pandas football team.”
some people whistle and cheer. others watch in silent confusion. naoya is gritting his teeth beside you and shoko is squeezing your thigh.
“i’m here to make a confession in light of recent events within our campus community,” sukuna murmurs into the mic. god, fuck geto suguru and his pretty cursive. sukuna can’t read shit.
“at the first game of the season,” sukuna clears his throat. “there was a video broadcast that interrupted the flow of the ceremony. i profusely apologize for that,” he says. “i was the one responsible.”
gasps fill the arena.
“it’s unsportsmanlike, i know.” he adjusts the mic. “whether the contents of the video are honest or not, to broadcast them during the ceremony was uncalled for and inappropriate. i had no good or honest intentions behind it.” he grits his teeth, eyes leaving the script.
“i wanted to embarrass naoya.”
the crowd is silent, and sukuna finds your eyes.
you’re looking right at him with an expresssion he can’t make out. beside you naoya is there, arm around your seat, and anger seeps into his chest. naoya has a black eye—he’ll have to thank suguru and sato for that. he’ll also have to give him a matching one on his left eye.
he continues his speech.
“naoya zenin, captain of the pandas, stole my girlfriend.” he spits into the mic. “so i chose to embarrass him publicly. that’s it. that’s my reason.”
the audience is muttering, talking amongst themselves. some people have their phone’s up, recording. some are enraged. some girls are swooning.
“y/n l/n—fuck,” he spits into the mic, gaze bleary. he’s gripping the podium with both arms now, head down and away from the cameras. “evil fucking girl,” he murmurs.
“you don’t want him, baby,” he breathes against the mic.
“come back to me.”
the theatre is silent.
and then it roars
single ladies. girlfriends. boyfriends. members of the football team who miss life under sukuna’s reign. they’re all cheering for him, loud and unrestrained. clapping as sukuna grips the podium with his eyes on the hardwood. the headlights flash on his face and he squints to look past them, eyes lifting towards the audience.
you’re not at your seat.
why?
did you miss the end of the speech? sukuna blames himself. he didn’t even have the guts to look up at you as he breathed out the last line, and now he’ll never know if you heard the very words he’s been wanting to say. sukuna almost laughs. his eyes are hot but he almost laughs.
the audience is still roaring. sukuna rips his speech off the podium and walks off the stage.
NANAMI’S REMARK: SO ALL THAT FOR WHAT?
BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: NEVER LOSE ME.
taught by: y/n l/n
“never had a bitch like me in your life”
❤︎
when sukuna trudges through the curtains, sato and suguru are already there.
faces flushed, chests heaving. “holy fucking shit—“ suguru pulls sukuna’s head into his arms. “you fucking did that.”
he did. so why does he feel so damn empty?
sato is practically bouncing, worming his way into the hug. “you did that!” he cheers. “did you see y/n’s face? was she cheering too—?”
“she left.”
sato and suguru freeze.
suguru pulls away first. sukuna’s face is dull, downcast—and his eyes are dark and soulless. “oh no—” suguru mutters. he holds sukuna’s face. “did you see when she left?”
“no,” he murmurs. no, he didn’t.
“fuck,” sato curses. “fucking hell, man—isn’t this low? even for her?”
suguru pulls sukuna’s head back under his chin. sukuna doesn’t resist or protest. just stares at the wood floor with empty eyes. but then a voice calls his name.
“ryomen sukuna. are you brooding?”
if god liked him, it would’ve been you. standing there in your short skirt and skimpy top and a teasing smile on your lips. mocking his misery. grinning up at him.
but instead it’s shoko ieri, brown hair under a bucket hat.
under normal circumstances, he’d be happy to see her. sukuna likes most of your friends. they’re all pretty party girls like you, a bunch of twenty-something year olds who think life is about bourbon glasses and friday mornings passed out in the backseat of someone’s car. they’re wild but they’re all nice girls, and they’re good to you so that’s fucking that.
but he doesn’t want to see your friends. sukuna wants to see you.
suguru brushes sukuna’s hair back. “shoko. to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“relax, geto. i’m not here to cause trouble,” she hums, leaning against a beam. “just here to pass across a message.”
she muses. “backstage dressing room. one-hundred two, not hundred and one,” shoko recites. “i have to leave now, but don’t be late. and sukuna,” she pauses to look at him. “no backup. just you.”
she turns away with a lilt in her steps, and the boys of sigma chi are left staring at each other in confusion. the message is clear though, and sukuna wipes his face.
room 102. got it.
# SHOW TIME !
ryomen sukuna comes in alone.
the door to room 102 pushes open with a creaak. the dressing room is racks and racks of clothing, some on the floor, some strewn across tables, and mirrors upon mirrors. the vanities still have their lights glowing orange. the room smells like rust and girl.
sukuna finds you in front of a mirror.
you’re checking yourself out, neon pink feather boa around your shoulders. on your head is a comically large sun hat, and there’s a bright green belt flung around your waist. you don’t look up when he walks in. just shift your hips in the mirror, skirt swishing around your thighs.
“you like my outfit?” you hum, still facing the mirror.
you look silly. if he was in a better mood, he’d probably smile. but instead he trudges forward and leans back against the table behind you. “yeah. looks cute.”
“hmm,” you fit your hands over your hips. “i still feel like it’s missing something.”
sukuna stays quiet.
you walk over to a bunch of boxes, pulling out all sorts of costume pieces. your tone is sing-song. “i heard your little speech.”
sukuna plays with the bracelet on his wrist. it’s not a bracelet. it’s one of your bra straps, actually, and he’d forgotten he put it on before the speech. it’s suddenly itchy against his wrist. “you liked it?”
“i thought it was cute,” you hum, inspecting a tie. you walk over to him, and sukuna spreads his legs a bit so you can slip between his thighs. you hold the tie up to him. “can you help me?”
he takes the tie from your hands. fits it over your neck quietly. he’s folding the ribbon around your neck, pretending he can’t feel your breath on his lips.
he murmurs, “i don’t understand what you’re doing, baby.”
his palm leaves your tie to cup your cheek. your gloss smudges against his palm. “what do you mean? i’m getting dressed up.”
his thumb strokes your cheek. “please don’t play dumb.”
you snuggle into his palm, humming contentedly. sukuna’s thumb still strokes your cheek. his other hand has come up squeeze your hip, then snake around it, then pull you closer into him.
“i’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips.
“for what?”
“for kissing another girl,” he murmurs. “for even looking at her. for being difficult. always giving you a reason to turn around and leave, then begging you to come back.” he cups your face.
“i love you. i’ve never loved any girl the way i love you.”
you trail a palm down his chest. “come back to me,” you repeat his speech.
“come back,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your spine. “come back to me, baby.”
you giggle as he leans closer to steal your lips. ryomen sukuna tastes like strawberry and spearmint.
Y/N’S REMARK: GUESS WHO’S BACK <3
COUPLE TACTICS #1 : DICKMEDOWN—WHO SAID THAT?!
taught by: ryomen sukuna’s cock
“there is no quote. i am a cock.”
❤︎
in ryomen sukuna’s bedroom, he has his back against the headboard and his girlfriend in his lap.
you’re half naked. clad in nothing but a lacy bra and matching black panties, giggling as you pose into his macbook camera. you lift another bra up to check it against your chest. ryomen sukuna squeezes your thigh.
“you like this one?” he murmurs behind you, reaching his hand up to grope your breast. “wasn’t in the cart. added it myself.”
“it’s so pretty,” you coo, lashes fluttering. “thank you, ryo.”
“you’re welcome, princess.”
it’s just two days after the whole speech at the theatre. ryomen sukuna watches you with bleary eyes. he leans back against the headboard, watching as you shrug off your bra to try another one he bought. he reaches up to graze his thumb over your pebbled nipple and you giggle, before sliding backwards to lean back against his chest. he squeezes your tits in his palms before kissing your cheek.
“love this set,” he murmurs against your ear. he’s twisting your nipple in one hand & the other is already sliding down over your belly, down to your lacy black panties. “so pretty on you.”
“mmh,” your thighs squeeze as his hand slips below the fabric, finding your wet, aching clit. he rubs the pad of his thumb over it in circles. kisses your cheek again when you whine.
“missed you,” he murmurs. “so bad, pretty.”
“mhm,” you breathe. you want to bite back with something sassy but ryomen sukuna is kneading your breast while his thumb fingers your clit. he slips in another finger and rolls the bud between them. your thighs squeeze around him.
“ryo,” you purr. “you’re gonna get them dirty.”
“i know,” he shushes you. “just wanna feel you.”
and feel you he does. he pushes your body up on his chest and latches his hot mouth around your nipple. “mmh—,” he groans, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak. “fuck, missed this.”
his fingers rub harder against your clit. faster, faster, until your hips arch of the bed and your thighs shake around him. he can already see slick coating your inner thighs, and your moans in his ear only make him rub harder. “fuck,” he curses. fuck fuck fuck.
your lashes go sticky with tears. your clit is wet and throbbing around his fingers. your thighs shake as you reach your high, and sukuna has to shove his lips to yours to quiet your moans. he licks his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet and sloppy, palm settling to gently rub your clit through your high.
you gasp, pulling away. your lashes are sticky & your cheeks flushed hot. “i missed you.”
he kisses you again, soft. “missed you too.”
he slips your panties off your thighs, holding your naked body against him. “missed this pussy too,” he rasps. “gonna stuff you till you’re cumming on my cock.”
you squirm against him, swatting his chest as he unzips his trousers. “but i just came!”
“you’ll come again, pretty.”
he fumbles with the zipper, slipping out his heavy, hard cock. his cockhead is throbbing and sticky with precum, and he shifts you forward so your back is against his chest.
“go slow,” you whimper, already nervous.
he kisses your shoulder. “you don’t want that.”
and you don’t. you arch into him as he slips his cock into your puffy, slick-coated folds from behind. he smears precum and slick over them with his cockhead, kissing your shoulder as you shiver against him. “relax, you’re okay. you still on the pill, baby?”
you nod shyly. he kisses your neck.
sukuna’s cock is thick. heavy and swollen and pulsing between your slobbering foods. he pushes his hips into you, letting your pussy squelch around him, and his arm fits under your body so he can grope your perky breasts. he tugs on a nipple before rolling it between his fingers. fuck.
you whimper as his cock stretches you out, sliding deeper and deeper into your folds. “fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so fucking hot. so tight. so wet.”
you whimper as his fingers find your clit again. he circles it hard, hips bucking to push his cock deeper into you before sliding back out, palms still fondling your breasts. it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and he can hardly blame you for whining against him. “ryo—”
“shh—you’re good, you’re doing so good,” he rasps as you clench around his cock. “so fucking good. you know how good you feel around my cock, baby? m’so fucking lucky—.”
he’s shushing you but his hips only buck faster and faster. your eyes squeeze shut as he breathes. “fuck, gonna cum—“
your walls quiver around him as you come together, white hot cum stuffed between your folds. you groan, ragged, as sukuna pants into your neck. he kisses your shoulder before resting his head against your neck.
“i love you,” he rasps.
“i love you too.”
you stay like that for a moment, holding each other before he kisses your shoulder. “let’s get you cleaned up.”
——
“you have a lot of explaining to do.”
sukuna comes back with new shorts hanging low on his v-line. he has a warm cloth in his hands, and he climbs over your sore body. even now you’re still smiling up at him, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. “whatever do you mean?”
“don’t play dumb,” he kisses your cheek before gently nudging your thighs open. he slides the cloth down your inner thigh, ignoring the way you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair. “you have to explain. why you went to naoya.”
“but what if i don’t want to?”
“you will,” he says. he slides your panties up your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit before slipping them all the way up.
but then he changes his mind. slips your panties down again.
“ryomen.” you’re already sitting up.
“relax,” he mutters against your puffy cunt. “lean back for me.”
you sigh, doing as he says. he licks a stripe up your glistening folds. he can taste himself on your stuffed cunt but his tongue keeps moving regardless. he pulls back, lips glistening with slick.
“you’re gonna tell me exactly what your fucking plan was,” he sucks on your bud, letting go with a pop. “why i saw you again with naoya after he dared to fucking talk to you like that.”
“so strict,” you whimper, cheeks puffed as your hips arch into him. “i can date anyone i want.”
“no,” sukuna hisses. “you can only date me.”
“mmh—” you moan as his tongue slobbers over your glossy folds. you run your fingers through his hair as your pussy drools onto his tongue. “mmh—wanted to make you mad,”
“you did good,” he sticks a finger into your cunt and you gasp, loud. he’s knuckles deep now, pumping his finger in and out of you. “hah—wanted you jealous,” you moan. “we were gonna get revenge.”
his fingers curl so hard you cry his name.
you whimper and he ignores it. “was already jealous. why’d you go back to him after he touched you?”
he curls his fingers again. “ah—! sorry, i’m sorry,” you cry, lashes wet. feels so good. “we weren’t dating for real. just showed up in public together. he said we couldn’t stop, said if we did that meant you won,” you whimper. “he apologized, let me punch him. i gave him a—hnngh—black eye.”
ah. so the black eye naoya had wasn’t from sato and suguru.
sukuna swirls his tongue over your clit, lapping and sucking as he pumps another finger into your drooling pussy. he curls them until he’s pressing into that spongy part that makes you sob, and he sucks gingerly as your pussy sputters and spits slick into his mouth. “ryo—m’gonna cum—”
your thighs shake, walls clenching. sukuna pumps his fingers in faster, letting your thighs squeeze his neck. you cum over his mouth, right around his fingers, and sukuna kisses your puffy, still-sensitive clit.
when he looks up at you, you’re glaring. eyes glistening wet, cheeks flushed. pretty.
“what?” he says.
“you’re so mean,” you frown. “you see why i break up with you?”
sukuna huffs, climbing over your figure. when he’s right above you, you tug his neck down.
“i love you,” you mumble.
he kisses your lips. “i love you too.”
COCK’S REMARK : *HARDENS*
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #6: BREAK THE CYCLE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“loving you is a loop.”
ΣΧ
in toru gojo’s room of his apartment, the boys of sigma chi are all there. oh—and you too, of course.
sato is fast asleep on his twin’s bed, laid down & drooling on suguru’s shoulder beside him. suguru is tapping at his nintendo switch with furious speed. toru is cooking up something in the kitchen. and on his PC, you and sukuna are there, suguru’s sims 4 game loaded up on screen.
you’re on sukuna’s lap, his arm looped around your hips as you rant about the many tribulations you had to endure while ‘dating’ naoya. you’re customizing sukuna’s sim for your save file, and said man is doing nothing but rubbing your thighs and pressing lazy kisses to your skin.
“—and he leaves his boxers everywhere!” you exclaim, scrolling through geto’s CC folder. “i had to come over after he had practice once and they were everywhere. it’s that bad!”
“mhm,” sukuna kisses your neck, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “so bad, baby.”
“he’s so unhygienic,” you shift in sukuna’s lap, and he squeezes your hips to keep you steady. “i told him to at least clean up if he knows i’m coming over. he said no!”
sukuna nuzzles your ear, squeezes your thigh. “mm. m’gonna kill him.”
“no you will not! stop threatening murder!”
sukuna looks up. you’ve turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, and he looks up at you through bleary eyes. your cheeks are warm. lashes fluttering. you’re the prettiest headache he’s ever had.
he kisses your jaw. “missed fighting with your pretty face,” he murmurs. “gimme a kiss, baby.”
you soften, and he leans up to kiss you deep.
“woah—” suguru throws a pillow at you both. sukuna swats it away from you without pulling back from your lips. he squeezes your waist and geto frowns. “even if sato’s asleep, i’m still fucking here!”
sukuna ignores him, his hand crawling up to grope your tits. suguru scowls, turns over to face sato’s sleeping figure. he should’ve known protesting was futile. sukuna’s always been an exhibitionist, but you’d think his therapy sessions would’ve taught him better by now.
sukuna pulls back, your gloss smeared over his lip & chin. you giggle at the sight, “hi.”
“mmh,” he nuzzles your neck.
the door swings open, snapping you and sukuna out of your daze. in comes toru gojo with a plate of lazy cake, glasses slipping down his nose. he blushes when he sees you and sukuna pressed close together. “hi. i made snacks.”
“oh, toru!” you purr. “you’re my favorite, have i told you that?”
toru sets down the plate on the desk in front of you. as he leans down you press a kiss to his cheek, and he blushes so hard his face turns beet red. he looks up, surprised, and you’re beaming at him. behind you, sukuna is scowling.
toru drops the plate and runs away.
you turn back to glare at sukuna. “you scared him.”
“no one’s allowed to kiss you.”
“i kissed him!”
sukuna ignores your protests, trying to cup your jaw so he can get a kiss of his own. you shove his face back, and he scowls.
“go apologize to toru,” you frown at him. “now.”
sukuna wants to protest. wants to say he’s comfortable right here with your thighs over his lap and your lipgloss on his chin. but he knows if he fights back he’ll be left with nothing but a sore earlobe & an angry girlfriend. he grumbles as you slide off him.
sukuna trudges to the kitchen, says his apologies. toru accepts them in a heartbeat.
when he comes back to the room, you’re gone.
“where is she?” his heart drops. “suguru—where is she?”
“chill,” suguru mumbles, eyes never leaving his switch. “she left you a letter. check on the desk.”
and next to toru’s plate of dessert, a letter is indeed there. he picks it up, thumb running over the paper. you’ve left a glossy kiss mark at the end.
‘dear sukuna,’ it reads.
‘i’m breaking up with you.’
sukuna’s blood runs cold.
‘i know we just got back together a week ago. but i thought about it! thought about how i’m becoming a better woman, growing in my spiritual journey. do i really want a jealous man who scares away my friends by my side??
so i decided: let’s break up. for real this time. it’s not you, it’s me. maybe if we’re truly meant to be, the stars will align and our paths will cross yet again. but for now? i have to choose me and my growth. so i’m leaving. for good.
i still love you though!! you’ll always be my lover <3 i love you soso much baby boy. i don’t even want to do this. but i know i have to make the right choice for both of us.
sorry to walk away like this. and don’t forget, you are not allowed to date any other woman!!! i am the only woman for you!! always and forever!! no dating, sex, kissing, touching, NOTHING. if i find out you even LOOK at another woman i’ll hate you forever!!!!!!!!!!!!
okay, that’s all. goodbye forever. i’ll always love you ryo <333333 i’m sorry it had to end this way.’
sukuna stares at the letter. he reads it once. twice. then once more.
and then he laughs.
because this is his girlfriend, bratty and high-maintenance and demanding and all. because you say goodbye forever, but he knows he’ll see you next week. he knows tonight you’ll call and say you miss his voice and afterwards you’ll send him a text saying you’re still not getting back with him and will be blocking him as a final goodbye. he knows you’ll unblock him on a random wednesday and won’t text, and he’ll just have to keep sending messages till they don’t turn green and he can ask you to come back to him.
and you’ll say yes. you always do. and if there’s anything or anyone who stops you from saying yes, he’ll crush them.
he rubs his thumb over the bottom of the letter. your glossy kiss mark is there.
and right beside it?
XO, YOUR EX HO 💋
SUKUNA’S REMARK: SEE U NEXT WEEK.
#SIGMA-CHI STORIES !
XO, EX HOE end.
XO HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
I wish people would write more Kevin fics where the reader is a disturbing freak of nature, the innocent baby uwu stuff is so boring like I would not say that!! I would love if Kevin left a dead animal on my bed while I was away or wrote me creepy notes then stuffed them in my locker!
pairing 𝜗ৎ scaramouche x fem!reader, genre: fluff, akademiya students typical mean to everyone scara except you. note: i used to be the biggest scaramouche fan, i miss scaramouche everyday, i mean wanderer isnt bad too but it doesnt hit the same crazy scaramouche everyone had in their mind.
No one understood what was going between you and Scaramouche.
Not even you two did.
At first, everyone thought he merely tolerated you, that you had held up to his attitude long after everyone else completely lost patience from too many insults and glares.
Then people began to pick up on things they found hard to explain.
How his eyes always looked for you first when entering a lecture.
How he moved closer when you sat next to him. His expression always being somewhat annoyed until you're in the same room as he was, something in him to soften so subtly most people missed it but not your friends.
"Oh my god," Kaveh whispered to you, "He looks at you like a starving man."
You nearly choked on your drink.
Kaveh wasn't lying though, Scara really did look at you like that...
Scaramouche watched you constantly. Not in a creepy way. Maybe in a creepy way sometimes, but he means no harm to you. It was just an instinct to keep you safe, like a guardian angel making sure you're fine.
His gaze followed your movements around classrooms, cafeterias, crowded Akademiya halls. If you laughed too loudly with someone else, his eyes snapped over immediately. If you disappeared too long between lectures, he'd questioned you on your whereabouts.
He acted like you exhausted him while simultaneously orbiting around you like he physically couldn't help it.
Everyone at school noticed, especially since Scaramouche hated being touched by anyone.
Girls that were infatuated with him in the Akademiya learned that quickly. One accidental brush against his arm and he'd give them the dirtiest stare in history.
Someone once tried linking arms with him during a festival and he immediately peeled her off with visible disgust look on his face.
And yet you're sitting across from him in the middle of the library while braiding little sections of his hair between your fingers because you were bored.
He didn't mind it, didn't complaint nor insult you. Sitting there silently while your legs rested over his lap beneath the table, his hand absentmindedly holding your ankle like it belonged there.
"Ribbon is crooked," he muttered eventually.
You gasped. "How did you noticed!"
"I have eyes."
"Well, no shit. So you care about my crafts!"
"I care because it looks stupid on me." But he still tilted his head lower so you could fix it easier.
At the same time, the girl at the next table over looked genuinely devastated watching the interaction.
Scaramouche glanced toward her briefly before looking back at you again, unimpressed. "You missed a piece."
"Hush."
"You are bad at this."
"At least I'm trying!" Your lips curved into a small smile and immediately he looked away because apparently even after all this time he still couldn't handle when you looked at him too sweetly.
Another thing people noticed was that he folded for you and no one else.
You could push his hair away from his face while he studied to get a look at his pretty face. Steal his rings to wear on your own fingers. Sit directly in his lap during late-night study sessions because his dorm chair was "more comfortable."
Sometimes he'd be reading while your head rested against his shoulder and his hand would automatically move to play with your hair without realizing.
He adored your hair.
Archons, he loved touching you in general.
However, he had a very peculiar way of exhibiting that. Most people wouldn't catch it unless they paid attention.
His fingers brushing your wrist while passing notes. Straightening your blouse collar before lectures. Fixing your fake lashes with terrifying concentration because your hands shook a lot.
"Quit blinking," he would whisper softly into your ear, close enough that you could smell the mint and smoke on his breath.
"It's hard not to. You're so intimidating."
“That sounds like a problem for you. Not me,” he replied as his fingers went to cup your chin with noticeable firmness while he fixed the corner of your lash.
You stared at him a little too long and he noticed it immediately. It was really obvious.
"…What?"
"Nothing."
"You were staring."
"Well, you're pretty."
The glue nearly smeared because his hand jerked slightly at your words.
"You're so annoying," he muttered, ears pink.
You grinned at him, knowing that you'd already accomplished part of your goal in getting him to be soft only towards you.
And one evening while you were strolling around the Akademiya, you found him outside one of the Akademiya buildings long after sunset, sitting alone on the stone railing with a cigarette balanced between his fingers while the city lights glowed below.
The sight of him like that nearly ruined you.
Dark clothes. Half-lidded eyes. Smoke curling past his lips while the breeze moved through his hair.
Scaramouche looked up when he heard your footsteps and immediately frowned. "Why are you here?"
"I was finding you."
"Well, here I am."
You stepped closer anyway, eyeing the cigarette with curious eyes. "You smoke?"
"Geez, what do you think?"
"Hmmm."
His eyes narrowed a little. "What?"
You shrugged. "Nothing. I just like the smell."
Scaramouche stared at you like you'd personally short-circuited his brain. "What kind of answer is that?"
"A truthful one..?"
"So you like the scent of cigarettes smoke?"
"Mhm..."
"You're concerning me."
"You smell nice," you teased him a little, leaning into his space.
His face immediately twisted into something halfway between irritation and embarrassment. "You're impossible..."
However, he continued to hold the cigarette away from you at least somewhat.
And then a week later, when he was beginning to try to teach you how to smoke despite clearly regretting agreeing to it.
"You inhale too fast," he flatly stated while standing behind you beneath the quiet glow of the street lamps near campus housing. "No wonder you're coughing."
"I'm trying!!"
"Poorly trying.."
You spun around dramatically, "Maybe cause you're a horrible teacher!"
"And you would be hopeless to teach."
But his hand still came up to steady yours when you lifted the cigarette again. His fingers wrapped around your wrist carefully, colder than yours as he guided the motion slightly.
"Take it slow," he whispered next to your ear. "Just like this."
Your heart was racing way faster than usual.
No surprise when he stood that close to you, his chest touching your back every time either of you took a breath.
"You're doing this on purpose," you said with a quiet accusation in your voice.
"Huh? Doing what?"
"Distracting me...?"
A soft chuckled escaped from his throat lowly which made your stomach fluttered.
"You're distracted all on your own."
You slightly tilted your head back in an attempt to glare at him but quickly realized just how close his face was to yours.
Close enough for you lips to interlocked.
Scaramouche apparently realized that at the same time because you could see his face transforming from the previous teasing look into something softer, warmer and more dangerous in a way you'd never seen before.
His gaze dropped to your lips, trying so hard to not capture your mouth with his.
"Kuni…" you whispered softly.
His hand tightened slightly around your wrist.
Footsteps echoed another pathway and he pulled back instantly, jaw tense like he was annoyed at himself for almost losing composure.
"…You're burning the cigarette wrong," he muttered instead.
nerd!gojo solving a rubik’s cube while you edge him ! (based on this req)
“hey toru, you know how to solve a rubik’s cube right?”
“are you kidding me?! of course i do!” he gasps, almost offended at the mere thought of you doubting his world class abilities.
“alright here!” you toss a cube right at him, all the colours at every corner mismatched while gojo eyes you as if you’ve gone insane.
he judges the cube in his hands, his mind running a mile a minute before he begins to turn each row and column between his fingers. it’s easy. well, it should’ve been.
that was until you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, your hands toying with the waistband of his pants, his cock slowly hardening while you palmed at it through his sweats.
“w—what’re you—”
“focus, pretty boy.”
you slowly dragged his sweats down, just enough to free his pretty cock from its confines, right before you spat into your palm, wrapping your hands around his pretty shaft—
“f…fuck—wait this isn’t fair!”
“i thought you were supposed to be smart, toru~ don’t disappoint me.” you cooed, slowly jerking him up and down, his poor leaky dick already throbbing in your grasp with just a few strokes.
he tried to focus on the colours of the stupid rubik’s cube he had in hand, and the worst part is, he knew exactly how to solve it. but with your hand pumping him so good, all he could think about was painting your palm white.
he whimpered against you, trying to get the job done with his shaky hands, but he could feels his balls tighten, his orgasm build up with every shlick, and right as he rolled his head back, you pulled your hand away—leaving gojo just whining at the loss.
“w—wait why—” he whined, his head tilted back in his chair while tears pooled in his pretty eyes, the cube almost forgotten, and still a jumbled mess in his hands.
“i told you to focus, satoru. if you want me to finish you off, you’ll do as i say, correct?” your voice was laced with honey, your words so sweet and so condescending all at once while your fingers found his cock again.
he tried this time, really did, while you moved up and down, his mind entirely focused on doing exactly what you told him to do. he was anything but disobedient, after all.
he was leaking copius amounts of pre while you quickened your pace, but this time he was getting close.
and right as he set the solved cube on his desk he could feel himself cum, white spurts coating your hands and his abs, while he softly moaned your name over and over again.
you slowly moved your hand towards his lips, prying his mouth open.
“good job, now clean up the mess you just made.”
“y—yes ma’am.” is all that left his pretty mouth before he wrapped his pink lips around your cum stained hand.
this one’s for YOU @lynf1n1ty. @yoonsucks im so annoying hi
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
゛cw ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ nsfw, mdni, poly, threesome, choking, mentions of blood (blood play?), rough sex, fem reader, riding, oral (m receiving), established relationship, might be ooc, canon au
Having two partners wasn’t so bad. Even if your boyfriends didn’t seem like the types to get along well. Personalities crashing and all.
Though it was quite humorous. The fact that they seemed to only get along when it comes to fucking your brains out. Your situation worked well, considering both Scaramouche and Lohen were switches. Leaving you to either be catered to or cater to them in bed.
Tension was high as it had been around a month since you last got to spend a night with Lohen.
Due to traveling with Scaramouche and Lohen being away on expeditions. It was rare for the three of you to finally have a night to yourselves.
Sure, you enjoyed your time with Scaramouche, though even he had to admit how much he missed seeing you break under his and Lohen’s control.
So once the three of you got a chance to escape from the welcome party, you knew you were going to have to pry their hands off you.
“Lohen!”
It was quite the scene, you on your hands and knees while your dark-haired boyfriend was impaling you from behind. Your moan muffled by the expanse of Lohen’s dick in your mouth.
Your nails dug deep into the teal-haired male’s thighs, causing blood to draw. His eyes narrowed at the sight, irises shaking. “Ah, look at you, already making me bleed? Filthy~”
With a whine, you gazed up at him, drool dripping from your lips as he snapped his hips forward. The male was obviously aroused at the sight, as he used a finger to swipe up some of the blood and smear it across your warm cheek.
“Don’t play with your blood, you sicko.”
Scaramouche wasn’t having it; his glare was set on Lohen as he pounded into you. Hands shaking as they clutched your hips. Bangs stuck to his forehead as his pace didn’t let up.
He couldn’t help but feel the way your gummy walls clamped around his hard cock. A breathy groan left his lips.
“You’re no fun, Scara. Just look at her; she’s loving it.”
“Ain't that right, pretty?”
You nodded pathetically up at your boyfriend. The knight smirked, his hand tugging your head more, wanting-no, needing to hear your pained moan.
The other male’s eyes were trained on the sight of you, your back glistening with sweat as he leaned down and placed a kiss to the nape of your neck, his pace slowing down just slightly.
“You’re fucking pathetic, getting wet from that. You into that? Getting fucking tugged around let a little bitch?”
Your eyes watered as Scaramouche’s thrusts became meaner, his cock practically slipping out of your soppy used cunt.
“Shit…”
His head lolled back as his cock got squeezed. His hand shot to your neck, wrapping around your throat and tugging you up. Your teeth grazed the teal-haired man’s skin, making him moan loudly. His eyes shot wide in bliss.
You felt his hot cum slide down your throat, making you cough around him. But the sight only turned him on more, as he made sure you swallowed each drop. Scaramouche, on the other hand, was riding out his own orgasm.
You were practically being bred by the male as he kept thrusting his semen inside of you. It was never-ending as he was quick to lift you, your back against his chest as he fucked you dumb.
Lohen watched saliva mixed with his gift leak from your lips as the male’s hand was tightly wrapped around your throat. You looked like you were on the verge of passing out, though he wasn’t going to let that happen.
“No, no. Don’t sleep now. We have a lot more planned.” He cooed, his thumb running over your lip, wiping up the mixture of liquids before bringing it to his mouth.
The moment Scaramouche released you from his death grip, you thought you finally got a small break. Your legs shook, your back ached, and you gasped for air like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.
Of course, you forgot who your boyfriends were.
You felt your body get lifted, your head falling back as Lohen was quick to push you down onto his hard cock. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, partially questioning how it got up as fast as it did.
“You didn’t think we were done, right? Did a month of separation make you not believe my words?”
Your hands were planted on his chest, as if they would stabilize your body. Scaramouche was standing near the table, grabbing a cup of water.
Drinking it like he was on a stroll. Your eyes ran over his glistening form, eyes pleading while he stared back at you with a raised brow. He looked unbothered, as if he wasn’t just needily kissing your neck.
A sharp gasp left you the moment you felt yourself falling forward. However, your attention was right back on the male beneath you. His crazed eyes were staring into the depths of your confused ones.
He had placed both of your hands around his throat. Head tilting as he began to thrust his hips up into you. You groaned, hands tightening automatically, making him let out an almost animalistic groan.
“Fuck yes, choke me.”
Lohen sneered as his hands gripped your hips and made you bounce on his lengthy cock. Wet sticky sounds filled the room as his balls hit your ass.
The mixture of your slick and Scaramouche’s cum made disgustingly hot sounds. Which only helped turn the two males on more.
Your cheeks were flushed as you panted. Drool dribbled out from your boyfriend's mouth as he laid his head back, watching in a daze as your hands cut off his air whenever his tip hit your sweet spot.
“Fuhh–fuck yeshh….” he moaned, eyes rolling back as he was quick to cum. Spilling his seed inside of you, easily mixing it with Scara’s.
Lohen slammed you down one last time before pulling you into a deep, needy kiss. Your tongues were dancing before they were rudely separated. Your breath hitched as your head was tugged back.
Lips smashing against Scaramouche’s as he kissed you desperately. Teeth clashing in a messy, unsteady kiss. You were a rag doll for them, letting them tug and pull you in any way they wished to. And you had no complaints.
i’ve been playing this visual novel called killer chat and fuck am I obsessed with ronin holy shit he’s everything I ever wanted minus how he’s a literal serial killer but his personality 🤤🤤 chill im so fucking easy
your loser ex!sukuna threatens to release your sextape to get you back. that cant happen if you do it first, right?
“let me get this straight, you’re gonna release our sextape if i don’t take you back, is that it?”
you were the campus’ it girl. the girl with studded belts, chunky jewellery, dolled up in enough body glitter to probably last everyone a lifetime. and the very moment you slapped him across the face and clicked your heels away, he knew he had to have you back. even if it meant finding loopholes that’d possibly get him a restraining order.
“yeah.”
“sukuna you’re fucking deranged. get a life.” you hung up the call, staring blankly at your bedazzled screen, the very tape that sukuna threatened to leak playing on it. it wouldn’t be such a big deal if he did though—you looked at as fuck, the camera spanning all your good angles, and the best part was that your face was barely visible.
sukuna might be deranged. fortunately for you, you were much, much worse. of all the tapes he could’ve picked he went for the most vanilla one of them all, your ass was in the air, with sukuna’s hands in your hair while he fucked your poor cunt, your thighs and ass moving visibly in frame.
now, boring sex wasn’t your forte. and you weren’t about to let this taint your reputation after all. you looked through your drive, trying to fish through it to find something worth your while and finally, you struck gold.
an unsuspecting video titled “good puppy💕” staring back at you on the screen. jackpot.
you click on the screen, the video opening to the camera panning at your thighs, with sukuna on all fours, while you grab your pretty lace panties and throw them across the room before yelling “fetch!”
sukuna immediately runs picking up the lace with his mouth before dropping them back onto his lap while you pet his head.
if he was going to show the world the video of you taking his cock, you were going to show everyone that mr big bad campus playboy liked playing fetch with your panties.
—
just like clockwork sukuna released that video overnight only for you to drop yours seconds later. the campus was in shambles, barely recovering from the video of sukuna fucking you doggystyle right before you dropped the video of sukuna fetching your underwear like the sick dog that he is. rumours had already spread like wildfire, tainting his reputation beyond repair. and you were about to get away with everything scott-free.
you wake up to 20 notifications of sukuna blowing up your phone. eventually he made his way to your apartment knocking on the door until it almost fell off of it’s hinges.
“what the fuck is the matter with you.”
“want me to take it down?”
“no shit.”
“then fetch, boy.”
best fic ive written. @yoonsucks PSPSPS
dividers: @/pixopix .
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
pairing ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა older ex bf!leon kennedy x younger!reader ; genre: fluff, suggestive, lil angst.
YOU KNEW THE MISSION WAS GOING TO ruin you the second you saw his name on the file.
Leon S. Kennedy.
It remained there like something unfinished, something that never got closure, just… cut off before it could settle. Your hand rested on the paper longer than it should of, tracing the letters with your finger as if to say they had changed, like time would’ve softened what was left between you.
Unfortunately, you were wrong. If anything, it felt worse like everything you'd buried was waiting for an excuse to come back.
He was the one who ended the relationship. It would have been easier to loathe him if he told you he didn't love you anymore. It was the fact he loved you far too much, and that ultimately became the issue.
There was a lot of danger and risk with both of your jobs that constantly pulling you into things that didn't promise survival.
And then there was the part he never said gently—that you were younger, that you still had time, that he didn't want to be the reason you lost it chasing something unstable like him.
You remembered the way he said it like he was trying to convinced himself just as much as you.
It didn't make it hurt any less.
Not once did it make you forget him because you never did. Not even close. And certainly not when your body still remembered him in ways your mind tried to ignore.
Every quiet night turned into the same dream of you and him together again and his hands on you, lips pressed on your neck giving you small kisses and everything was just the way it was before. You'd wake up with that ache sitting heavy in your chest and lower, frustrated with yourself for still wanting something that had already ended.
So yeah, seeing his name again felt like a joke you weren't in on.
The first time you see him again, it's like your body reacts before your brain does.
Even though he looks almost exactly like you remember except for how he looks a little older, a little more tired around the eyes, but still unmistakably him.
His body language is identical to what it has always been. The same posture, confidence, and has a presence that commands attention without ever trying to.
His eyes find yours almost immediately, "Didn't think they'd pair us again," he says in stoic voice, like you're just another assignment.
You give a short, sarcastic laugh and try to act like flipping through your documents like you don't care. "Yeah, figured they'd have better judgment than that."
You see his expression change briefly before it disappears again. "Still got an attitude."
"Still got bad timing," you shoot back, not even looking at him.
That comment landed harder than you thought it would. You can feel it without needing to see it.
But he doesn't argue. Instead, he just exhales quietly and shifts back into mission mode like that conversation didn't mean anything, as if you didn't just reopen something that never properly closed.
You hate how easily he does that.
Everything felt too familiar. Working together again feels wrong in a way you can't explain.
With the way he moves beside you, the way he hands you weapons without needing to say anything, the way he stands just slightly behind you during briefings like it's instinct to have your back.
It should feel normal, professional, routine but it hardly is. Every small interaction feels loaded, like there's something sitting just beneath the surface neither of you are acknowledging.
You feel his hand brush against yours when he handed you a knife, and it lingers just a second too long to be accidental. He notices that you noticed, but neither of you says anything about it.
Is he doing this on purpose?
"Focus," he mutters at one point, stepping closer to you than necessary while going over the plan for the mission.
You glance at him, unimpressed at his tactics. "I am focused."
"Doesn't look like it."
"Maybe you're just distracting," you say casually.
His jaw tightens slightly, his gaze flickered to yours before he looks away again. “Not the time.”
You take one more step forward, just enough to test his reaction. "You say that every time."
For just a moment, he doesn't move away. Then he exhales slowly and steps back first, creating a distance between you two. "Get your head in the mission."
You almost laugh, because if anyone's not focused, it's definitely not just you.
Although the actual mission wasn't particularly stressful, it didn't leave you unharmed.
Once your adrenaline has subsided and you're back at the safehouse, you can finally start feeling how much pain you're in. A sharp and incessant pain along your side.
When you first start feeling the pain, you try to ignore it and pretend it's nothing, but Leon somehow always notices.
"Sit," he says, already grabbing the med kit.
"I'm fine."
"Sit. You're bleeding."
"It's really not that bad."
When his eyes lock onto yours, the annoyance fades into something softer, almost resigned. "Sit."
His tone is quiet but holds a note of authority that keeps you from challenging him.
So you sit down.
He moves closer, kneeling slightly so he's on the same level with you, opening the kit with practiced ease.
"Take your shirt off," he says without looking up.
"You always this direct?"
"You want me to waste time or you want me to fix it?" he states flatly but not cold.
With a sigh, you shake your head, lifting the fabric up slowly and wincing when it tugs on his skin. "Still bossy."
"I've seen everything before," he replies finally looking up after examining your injury for a second. "Don't make it weird."
That shouldn't have affected you anymore but it still does. Because he's right. There's nothing new about this, the closeness, the feel of his hands on your body, how you react physically, even though you're trying so hard to keep your brain from freaking out.
His fingers press lightly against your side as he cleans the wound, and you suck in a breath before you can stop yourself.
"You're tensed up." he mumbles.
"Maybe because I'm hurt?"
"Yeah," he responds softly. "I know."
There's something in his voice that makes you look up for real and suddenly, all those feelings you have held back since the breakup came back out of nowhere.
"You don't get to care," you say, "You gave that all up."
His hands stilled standing up now.
"…I know,” he repeated again but his tone was quieter and rougher now.
That answer made something snap.
"That's it?" you push, leaning forward despite the discomfort. "You don't get to just say that and act like—"
"What do you want me to say?" he cuts in, finally looking at you, "That it was easy? That I didn't think about it after?"
You didn't respond right away, he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before letting it drop again.
"I did it because I thought it was the right thing," he continues, voice lower now, more honest than you've heard it in a long time. "Doesn't mean I didn't regret it."
For a second, you just stared up at him, trying to process whether he actually said that, whether he really means it or if it's just another one of those things he says to soften the damage after it's already been done.
"You regret it?" you repeated, the tone of your voice sharper than you thought. "Then why did you even break up with me?"
Leon doesn't respond right away, adding to the anxiety and uncertainty you're feeling.
"You didn't have the right to make that decision for me!" you continued, expressing all the frustration that you have kept bottled up inside you. "You don't have the right to decide what I'm capable of handling, just like I didn't get a say in any of it."
His jaw tightens. "I was trying to—"
"Protect me?" you cut in, almost laughing. "From what? From you? From something I have already chose?"
Your chest feels tight now, like everything you kept buried is forcing its way out after keeping it in for so long.
"I wanted to stay with you," you murmured, "I chose you, Leon. You didn't even give me the chance to keep choosing you."
He gives you a proper look then, and you see his usual composure slip. It was like he suddenly couldn't hold it together anymore.
But you weren't finished yet.
"I lay there every night after you left," you continue, your voice cracking now despite how hard you try to hold it steady. "It's so quiet, and it feels wrong because you're not there anymore. No stupid comments, no… nothing."
You laugh weakly, shaking your head as your vision starts to blur. "And I kept thinking it'd get better and that I'd get used to it."
"Every time I woke up from a nightmare," you added, the words slipping our of your mouth before you could stop them, "you weren't there beside me. No one was. I just had to… deal with it. Go back to sleep like it didn't matter."
Your hands curl into your own sleeves, trying to calm yourself.
"I tried moving on. I tried acting like everything was normal, going out and meeting people or whatever. However, every time I got close to a person," you shake your head again, "it just felt wrong. I kept thinking about you, and I hated it."
Your breathing is uneven now, your chest rising too fast, your eyes burning.
"I don't want anyone else except for you," you finally look him in the eyes again and show him, "and I still don't."
Leon doesn't move. The silence between you both were thick. For once, he looks… lost.
He doesn't have the right answer, doesn't have the control he usually holds onto so tightly. "Did you think that would have been easy for me too?" he asks softly and stares at you for what feels like an eternity.
You don't respond.
He exhales, running a hand through his hair, he looks tired in a way that has nothing to do with work.
"I drank more than I should've," he admits. "Stopped sleeping properly. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept thinking I made the wrong call."
"I'd pick up my phone more times than I can count," he continues explaining, jaw tightening slightly. "Thought about calling you. Showing up. Saying I screwed up."
"Then why didn't you do it?"
"Because I thought if I came back, I wouldn't be able to leave again."
Whatever you were holding onto breaks completely, your vision blurring as tears spill over, your shoulders shaking despite how much you try to steady yourself.
"Then don't," you say, voice breaking. "I never wanted you to leave, never will when you're the only one that understands me. Just don't... leave me again."
Leon's expression shifts instantly.
He moves without thinking, closing the distance between you, kneeling down in front of you so quickly it almost startles you. He places both his larger and calloused hands on your face, thumbs brushing under your eyes as if he can wipe away everything you've been holding in.
"Hey," he speaks softly now, "Hey…look at me."
You try, but it's hard when everything feels like it's caving in at once.
"I'm here," he says, more firmly this time, his forehead almost brushing against yours. "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere right now."
Your hands clutch at his jacket, like you need something solid to hold onto, and he lets you, doesn't pull away, doesn't create distance like he always do.
Instead, he moves his face close to yours and kissed you.
This kiss wasn't rushed, it was as if he is helping to steady you rather than overwhelming you. His lips brush against yours softly at first; testing to see if you'll pull away or continue to lean into him.
When you continue to lean into him, he tightens his grip on you, one hand now resting on the back of your neck, holding you close.
As you press your breath into his, your fingers clutch tightly onto his jacket as he continues to push his tounge in deeply but not forcefully.
His thumb glides along your jaw, slowly and softly providing reassurance, and when he pulls back slightl, he simply presses his forehead against yours.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, voice low, rough in a way that feels honest. "I really am."
You pause there for a moment, still holding onto him, your breathing beginning to settle down as the heaviness within you settles into something calmer, something more constant now that he is here and not just a past experience that you are yearning for.
"You promised?" you say softly, but still with an air of uncertainty, afraid he may change his mind at any moment to let yourself trust in him.
Leon doesn't waver at all.
"I promise."
You look up at him for a moment longer, searching for his face the same way you used to, trying to find some flaw in his promise.
"Then," you start, sniffing lightly as you pull back just enough to look at him properly, "you should take me out."
Leon raises a brow slightly. "Take you out?"
"Yeah," you say, a small smile tugging at your lips now, the softness creeping back in. "Like… a proper one. After we give our reports."
He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head a little. "You're negotiating already?"
"You owe me," you point out, nudging his shoulder lightly with yours. "So I'm thinking something nice. Somewhere expensive. Like really expensive."
"Seriously?" He chuckles and his hand still resting at your waist like he forgot to move it.
"And we could always have dessert afterwards." you added, like it's a crucial detail.
Leon hums, pretending to think about it, but the way his thumb starts brushing absentmindedly against your side again gives him away.
"Desserts, huh…"
You narrow your eyes slightly. "Yes. Don't try to skip that part."
A small smirk tugs at his lips then, "Don't you mean…" he leans in just slightly, voice dropping enough to make your stomach flip, "you're the dessert?"
You stare at him in disbelief, feeling your face turning red. "You're—"
"Charming?" he cuts in.
"Annoying," you corrected.
He gives a small chuckle as he shakes his head, moving his hand from your waist yet staying clos.
"Yeah," he says softly, almost to himself. "Missed that."
"…Don't get used to it," you mumble, glancing at him.
pairing Ი𐑼 bf!sunghoon x gf!reader x bf!heeseung. (poly dynamic)
warnings: explicit smut, threesome, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, alcohol influence, rough handling, dirty talk.
THE NEON LIGHTS of the karaoke room flicker across the walls as you, Heeseung, and Sunghoon pile in with a case of soju and beer.
It's a lazy Friday night, nothing pressing on the agenda, so why not belt out some tunes and unwind?
You grab the mic first, crooning a cheesy ballad while the guys cheer you on, their laughter mixing with the off-key notes.
Heeseung passes you a shot, his fingers brushing yours lingeringly, and Sunghoon clinks his bottle against it, eyes sparkling with mischief.
As you keep drinking and singing, one song leads to five. The alcohol warming your veins and loosening inhibitions. You're sandwiched between them on the plush couch, bodies pressed close in the dim space.
Heeseung had his arm around you, pulling you into him while Sunghoon's hand rests on your thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles.
As the playlist changes to something with more of a sexy vibe, and with the bass being pumped through the speakers, you can feel the tension change in the atmosphere.
It starts innocently enough. You lean over to kiss Heeseung during a lull, tasting the bitter tang of beer on his lips. Sunghoon watched from the other side as he chuckled and soon after gave you a kiss of his own, kissing you deeply on the lips.
Both your kisses become much deeper and your hands are even more adventurous at this point. Heeseung begins to run his fingers through your hair, tugging you down as he unzips his jeans.
"Come here," Heeseung whispers, sounding a little raspy because of all the drinks he has had.
You immediately kneel in between his legs, feeling the rough carpet under your knees as you take his hard cock into your mouth.
Heeseung lets out a moan and thrusts his hips up towards you while you are attempting to suck him down, and your tongue swirling over the head. Saliva drips down his shaft, your mouth stretching to take more of him.
You begin to feel the effects of the soju and everything around you becomes blurry, yet at the same time, everything has a spark of electricity.
Below you, Sunghoon has knelt down, and he is pushing your skirt up and moving your panties to the side with both of his hands.
You can feel the heat of his breath hit your open pussy before his tongue dives in, lapping at your folds with eager strokes.
You moan into Heeseung's dick, the vibrations causing him to curse under his breath, while Sunghoon's mouth works relentlessly—sucking your clit, then plunging his tongue inside, fucking you with it while his fingers spread you open.
Wet sounds fill the room, mixing with the forgotten karaoke track playing softly in the background.
With how good you feel, you're clamping your thighs tight around Sunghoon's head and can feel the pleasure build so tightly in your core that your legs are shaking.
Heeseung has a firm grip on your jaw with one hand, using it to guide your mouth to move faster. "Fuck, just like that—suck it harder."
You hollow out your cheeks as you quicken your rhythm, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum. Sunghoon adds in a couple fingers, curling them back against that spot that makes you see stars.
The combination of sensations has you feeling dizzy, and you can feel your body arching back away from the sensations of your first orgasm surging through you.
You cry out, muffled by Heeseung's cock, pussy clenching around Sunghoon's digits as you came against his tongue.
They don't stop.
Sunghoon rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and pulls you up onto the couch. Heeseung shifts behind you, cock still slick from your mouth, pressing against your ass.
"Turn around," Heeseung says, voice rough.
You straddle him, sinking down onto his thick length with a gasp. He fills you completely, stretching your walls as you rock your hips.
Sunghoon has positioned himself in front of you, force-feeding his cock inside your mouth while Heeseung is behind you, hitting your cervix with each snap, while you gag softly on Sunghoon, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity.
With the help of alcohol, the edges have blurred between each sense—the way skin slaps together, the way you taste Sunghoon, and the way that Heeseung's cock is dragging against your insides.
"You're so fucking wet," Heeseung growls as he circles your clit with his thumb.
Losing track of the time you have left inside him, he pounds away; while you feel your walls fluttering around him, he continues until he reaches his release.
Sunghoon removes himself and holds his cock while watching, then kisses you with such a messy enthusiasm.
"My turn," Sunghoon says and changes places with Heeseung.
He gently pushes his cock inside your mouth while Sunghoon forcefully enters your pussy, folding you over the arm of the couch.
Sunghoon violently fucks you and continues to slap his balls against your ass while fisting your hair with one of his hands.
Heeseung's cock slides down your throat, hips shallowly thrusting.
A strong scent of sex, spilled drinks, and sweat fills the room; the microphone long forgotten on the floor.
Your entire body is over stimulated. Sunghoon letting out another grunt of pleasure while releasing his warm cum into your vagina.
Heeseung follows soon after, pulling out and letting his cum run across your tongue, forcing you to swallow every last drop.
You collapse between them, panting, bodies slick with sweat.
Heeseung kisses your forehead, Sunghoon your shoulder, the three of you tangled in a hazy, satisfied pile.
The karaoke screen flashes song suggestions, but none of you had any intention of moving—content in the afterglow, the night was far from over.
KNIFE ; LEE HEESEUNG , SIM JAEYUN.
“it only hurts if you lets it.”
pairing ¥ kidnapper!heeseung, kidnapper!jake x victim!reader. smut. warnings: knife play, unprotected sex, oral (fem & male), marking you with their names, blood play, overstimulation, dub con. note: been seeing people say enhypen is copying cortis hello are we deadass. always dragging them whenever their comeback is near.
THE FLICKERING ILLUMINATION of a candle lit up the floors and ceiling while casting long shadows along the wall of a stone underground cave. You'd been their pretty little human for months now, snatched from the mundane world above and dragged into this eternal twilight.
Heeseung and Jake, your vampire captors, had made it clear from the start: they wanted you forever, fangs deep in your veins, turning you into one of them so you'd never age, never leave.
The thought of being bitten by a vampire terrified you initially, but time changed this feeling to one that made your heart race.
Tonight, they lounged on the edge of the massive four-poster bed, eyes glowing faintly red in the low light.
Heeseung, with his sharp jaw and predatory grin, twirled a silver knife between his fingers, the blade catching the flame like a promise of danger.
Jake, broader and more feral, watched you with hunger, his shirt already half-unbuttoned to reveal the pale, muscled expanse of his chest.
"Come here, pet," Heeseung murmured, his smooth voice sent shivers down your spine.
You hesitated at the foot of the bed, your thin nightgown clinging to your skin from the chill of the air—or maybe from the anticipation building low in your belly.
You'd grown to crave their touch, even if part of you still whispered that this was wrong.
Jake moved first, faster than you could blink, his hands gripping your wrists and yanking you forward onto the mattress. You gasped, tumbling between them, the fabric of your gown stretching taut.
"We've been patient for so long," he growled against your ear, fangs grazing your lobe just enough to prick without breaking skin. "But tonight, we make you ours. No more waiting."
Heeseung pressed his blade against the strap of your nightgown, and the cold steel made your body arch instinctively.
"Hold still," he warned, slicing through the thin band with a flick of his wrist. The fabric parted like butter, exposing one shoulder, then the next as he repeated the motion on the other side.
You whimpered, a mix of fear and thrill bubbling up as the gown loosened, barely hanging on now.
"Please..." you breathed, not sure if you were begging them to stop or to keep going. Your body betrayed you, nipples hardening against the cool air, thighs pressing together to ease the ache.
Jake's laugh was low and dark. "Please what? You want this. We can smell it on you."
Heeseung's hands traveled up and down both of your sides, gathering the ripped gown and tearing it violently. The sound of fabric ripping out could be heard, and all of a sudden you were exposed to him and Jake, with your skin tingling from their intense gaze.
Heeseung traced the knife's flat side down your collarbone, over the swell of your breast, circling your nipple until it pebbled further. Its blade gleamed wickedly, and Jake flanked him, his gaze devouring every inch of you.
"Time to mark what's ours," Heeseung said, voice a low rumble that vibrated through your bones.
He pressed the tip to your collarbone, not piercing yet, just enough to dimple the skin and make you gasp.
Jake's hands clamped your arms, holding you steady as Heeseung dragged the edge downward in a deliberate arc.
The first cut stung—a shallow slice spelling 'Heeseung' across your upper chest, right above your breasts.
Blood welled up in fine crimson lines, trickling warmly over your skin. You whimpered, body tensing, but the pain twisted into heat, pooling between your legs as you watched the letters form.
"Beautiful," Jake murmured, leaning in to drag his tongue along the fresh wounds.
He sucked gently at the edges, fangs retracted but teasing the possibility, sending jolts straight to your clit.
Heeseung didn't stop; he moved the blade lower, carving 'Jake' into the soft flesh of your abdomen, each letter a precise burn that made your knees buckle.
Tears stung your eyes from the intensity, but you arched into it. You hated how much you needed this claim, how their possession made you wet and desperate.
Jake pulled his mouth off of your body, licking the blood off his lips as he took the knife from Heeseung and held it in front of you.
"Our turn," he said, stripping off his shirt to bare his chiseled torso. He handed you the hilt, guiding your trembling hand to his chest. "Carve your name on me, pet. Make us even."
Your fingers shook as you pressed the tip into his pale skin, just above his heart. It gave way easier than you'd expected, blood blooming instantly under the blade as you etched your name in shaky strokes.
As the blood began to flow and Jake let out an audible gasp, his cock hardened visibly in his pants, eyes darkening with lust. Heeseung took the knife next, carving your name into his own thigh, muscles flexing under the cuts.
Blood ran in rivulets down their bodies, and they both turned to you, licking the blade clean in unison—Heeseung's tongue flat against one side, Jake on the other—tasting the mingled essence with hungry moans.
Leaving you exposed and bleeding lightly from your new tattoos. Heeseung flipped the dagger, using the blunt pommel—the back end—to nudge against your slick folds.
He pressed it there, cool metal grinding against your swollen clit in firm circles, the pressure building friction that had you bucking wildly.
"Fuck, look at how you're leaking for us," Heeseung growled, sliding the handle up and down your slit, coating it in your arousal while the carved wounds throbbed in rhythm.
He then dragged the blade's tip lightly along your inner thigh, leaving a faint red line that didn't break the skin but made you buck.
After putting the knife away, his eyes locking on yours as he lowered his head. His tongue flicked out, cool and insistent, lapping at your clit in slow, deliberate strokes.
You cried out, hips jerking up, but Jake pinned your shoulders down, swallowing your sounds with another deep kiss.
Heeseung devoured you like a man starved, fangs retracted but the danger ever-present. He sucked your clit into his mouth, rolling it between his lips while two fingers plunged into your heat, curling to hit that spot.
"Fuck, you taste like sin," he muttered against your pussy, vibrations sending shocks through you.
He continued to go at you, tongue thrusting inside alongside his fingers, then withdrawing to circle your entrance before diving back to your swollen nub.
Overstimulation hit fast—your body trembled, walls clenching around nothing as the first orgasm ripped through you. Heeseung still didn't stop, lapping up your release like nectar, pushing you toward a second peak before you'd even caught your breath.
"Too much... oh god," you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity, but your hands tangled in Heeseung's hair, pulling him closer instead of away.
You liked it, you craved the feeling that it overwhelmed you, while at the same time, made you forget everything except for the pleasure.
Jake pulled back, shedding his clothes in a blur, his thick cock springing free, veined and throbbing. Heeseung also got himself ready by wiping his mouth with his hand and looking at you, still starving.
"Time to fill you up, pretty human," Jake said, positioning himself at your entrance.
You were crying out as he hit the deepest part of you and your body responded automatically to his aggressive thrusts. The sound of your wet pussy pushing him in and out of you echoed throughout the room.
Heeseung watched, stroking himself, before grabbing the dagger again.
He pressed the blade to your throat lightly as Jake pounded into you, the mix of fear and ecstasy making you clench tighter around him.
"I'm going to turn you soon," Heeseung whispered in your ear and began to lick a stripe up your neck. "Sink our fangs in while you're coming on his cock. Make you eternal. Ours."
The words sent you over the edge again, your orgasm crashing as Jake's rhythm faltered. He growled, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside you, hot cum flooding your pussy in thick spurts.
You felt every pulse, the warmth spreading as he kept thrusting through it, overstimulating your sensitive nerves until you were a writhing mess.
He pulled out with a wet pop, his seed leaking from you, but Heeseung was there instantly, flipping you onto your hands and knees.
"My turn," he said, sheathing himself in your cum-slicked heat without mercy.
The knife traced your spine now, a teasing trail as he fucked you from behind, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back. Jake knelt in front, feeding you his softening cock, still glistening with your combined fluids.
"Clean me up," he ordered, and you did, tongue swirling around the head, tasting yourself on him as Heeseung thrust into you harder.
The overstimulation bordered on pain, your clit throbbing, pussy raw, but the reluctant enjoyment bloomed into full surrender—you pushed back against Heeseung, hollowed your cheeks around Jake.
Heeseung began to pick up his pace, ripping a second creampie from him as he came with a hiss, fangs elongating just enough to graze your shoulder without biting.
Cum dripped down your thighs, mixing with your own arousal, as he ground against you, prolonging the aftershocks until you collapsed forward, spent and shaking. They pulled you between them, bodies cooling your fevered skin.
"Soon," Jake murmured, kissing your temple. "You'll be like us. Staying forever with us."
And as you drifted towards sleep, sated and marked, you came to realize that you wanted that too—eternity with your vampires, bound in blood and bliss.
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