Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru
Warnings: Suggestive Content. Sexual Assault (Groping).
As the cool breeze from the lake brushes against your skin, you sit there quietly, looking out at the water’s gentle ripples. The noise of the party fades into the background, leaving you in a cocoon of quiet—until Gojo’s voice breaks the silence.
“Why did you come?” he asks, his tone soft but curious.
You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze before quickly looking away. His eyes always seem to linger a second too long, making you nervous. “I… I just wanted to try something new,” you say, your voice quiet. “Plus, one of the guys I tutor invited me.”
Gojo raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? Who’s lucky enough to have you as their tutor?”
“Yuuji,” you reply with a small smile, remembering your cheerful, determined student.
At that, Gojo grins. “Yuuji’s a good kid. Bit of a goof, but he’s got a heart of gold.”
You nod, your smile growing as you agree. “He really is.”
There’s a pause before Gojo tilts his head slightly, studying you. “Are you enjoying the party, though?”
You shake your head, exhaling in mild frustration. “Not really,” you admit. “Honestly… I suck at this.”
Gojo blinks, a look of surprise crossing his face before he lets out a laugh. “You? Suck at something? Impossible.”
You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s a warmth in your expression. “I’m serious,” you insist, gesturing vaguely to the party behind you. “I just don’t know how to… do this whole thing. Parties, mingling, dancing. It’s not me.”
Gojo leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at you, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Sounds like you need a tutor.”
You blink at him, caught off guard by his teasing tone.
Before you can respond, he offers you his hand, his smile growing wider. “Come on. Let me tutor you.”
You let out a surprised giggle, and his confidence falters for just a moment. Is he… blushing?
You glance sideways, looking toward the house. There’s no sign of Sukuna. At this point, you’re sure he isn’t coming back.
You look back at Gojo, his hand still outstretched. There’s something both playful and genuine in his expression, and for a moment, you hesitate. Then, you nod, sliding your hand into his.
He stands, pulling you up gently, his grip firm but warm. “Alright,” he says, his voice carrying that usual air of confidence, “first lesson: follow me.”
You raise an eyebrow but let him lead you, weaving through the garden. As you walk, the noise of the party grows louder, and you feel your nerves creeping in again. But with Gojo’s hand still holding yours, you find it easier to take a breath and trust him—at least for now.
Sukuna leans against the wall, swirling the remnants of his drink as his crimson eyes follow you and Gojo from afar. His gaze sharpens when he sees the way you look at Gojo—eager, curious, and sweet, your eyes wide as you hang on to every word the other man says. Sukuna mutters a curse under his breath, a sour taste creeping into his mouth that has nothing to do with the alcohol. Why the hell are you looking at him like that?
Mahito, lounging nearby with a smug grin, doesn’t miss the opportunity to needle him. “Looks like Gojo’s stealing your girl, Sukuna,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery. “Guess you’re not as irresistible as you think.”
Sukuna’s grip tightens on his cup, his jaw clenching. “Shut the fuck up, Mahito,” he growls, but Mahito’s taunts continue.
“You should’ve gone with the bet, man,” Mahito snickers. “At this point, you should give me the 100$.”
Jogo, shaking his head, chimes in, “Face it, Sukuna. You’re losing.”
Sukuna downs his drink in one go, slamming the empty cup onto the nearby table. His eyes burn with irritation as he snarls, “Both of you, fuck off.” He doesn’t wait for another word from either of them as he strides toward you and Gojo.
As Sukuna approaches, he watches Gojo animatedly explaining the different bottles on the makeshift bar Hakari has set up. You’re nodding along, your curiosity evident.
“This one’s a classic,” Gojo says, pointing at a bottle of peach schnapps. “Sweet, fruity, perfect for beginners. Honestly, it’s the dessert of alcohol.”
You giggle softly, your lips pulling into a shy smile as you say, “It sounds nice.”
Before Gojo can elaborate, Sukuna steps into the conversation, his deep voice cutting through the air. “If you think peach schnapps is nice, you’d probably call cranberry vodka a war crime.”
Gojo turns to him, his ever-present grin faltering slightly. “Sukuna,” he says, his tone a mix of surprise and something bordering on unease.
You glance between the two, sensing an odd tension you can’t quite place. Sukuna’s eyes linger on Gojo for a moment before shifting to you. “Did he tell you vodka’s strong?” Sukuna asks, his smirk tilting upward.
You fidget with your fingers, feeling the weight of both men’s stares. “Uh, yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Earlier, Sukuna gave me a sip of his drink. It was awful.”
Gojo raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “You gave her vodka straight?”
Sukuna shrugs, his smirk unbothered. “It had cranberry, relax.”
Gojo chuckles awkwardly but doesn’t miss the slight challenge in Sukuna’s tone. He grabs a glass and starts mixing a drink. “Let’s fix that experience then,” he says, focusing on you. “Something easy—how about a Malibu Bay Breeze? Sweet, tropical, barely tastes like alcohol.”
You nod, watching as he prepares the drink and hands it to you. The glass is cool against your palm, and you take a cautious sip. There’s a subtle bitterness beneath the sweetness, but it’s far more tolerable than the cranberry vodka. “It’s… not bad,” you say, smiling softly.
“See?” Gojo grins. “Told you. Leave it to me.”
Sukuna lets out a low chuckle, drawing Gojo’s attention. “Careful, Gojo,” Sukuna says, his tone laced with mockery. “You’re setting the bar way too high for yourself. Especially since you’ll probably stumble out of here drunk as hell later.”
Gojo’s grin tightens, his usual lightheartedness giving way to annoyance. “Funny you say that, Sukuna,” he counters smoothly. “Coming from the guy who nearly took out Hakari’s mom’s flower vase last party.”
Sukuna’s expression darkens slightly, his smirk now sharp as a blade. “At least I didn’t get carried out because I passed out in the pool,” he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
You look between them, your unease growing. There’s something beneath their words—an edge, a challenge—that feels heavier than a simple exchange of banter.
Sensing your discomfort, Gojo clears his throat and gestures toward you. “She’s a first-timer,” he says, his voice deliberately light. “Gotta make sure she has a good introduction to this whole party thing.”
Sukuna’s eyes flick to you, softening slightly as he notices the way you’re clutching your glass, your fingers fidgeting nervously. “If she’s smart, she’ll realize this scene’s not worth the hype,” he says, his voice less biting when directed at you.
Gojo catches the shift in Sukuna’s tone, and something about it irks him. “Or,” Gojo says, grinning as he leans closer to you, “she’ll let loose and actually enjoy herself for once. It’s called balance, Sukuna. Ever heard of it?”
Sukuna’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t immediately reply. Instead, his gaze locks onto yours, searching for something in your expression. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice quieter but steady.
You blink, caught off guard by the question and the sudden intensity in Sukuna’s eyes. “I… I don’t know,” you say, feeling the weight of both their gazes. “I’m just… trying to figure it out.”
Gojo chuckles softly, his grin genuine as he pats your shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Take your time.”
But Sukuna doesn’t look away, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally speaks. “If anyone gives you trouble, let me know,” he says, his tone low but firm.
The tension between the two men is palpable, but before it can escalate further, Hakari’s voice booms from across the room, breaking the moment. “Hey, someone just shattered a lamp!”
Gojo laughs, turning to you. “Let’s find somewhere quieter. Come on.”
You glance at Sukuna, hesitating. His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark as they follow Gojo leading you away. Mahito’s earlier words echo in his mind, but he shoves them aside, draining another drink as he mutters under his breath, “This isn’t over.”
Gojo walks beside you, stealing glances as you both weave through Hakari’s family estate. The soft glow of the chandeliers above feels like a different world compared to the chaotic energy of the party. Your gaze flickers to the small library tucked in the corner of the house, and your eyes light up.
Gojo notices immediately and feels his chest tighten. He watches you move closer, your fingers brushing the spines of books as you admire the collection.
“You’re into libraries, huh?” he asks, his tone light, though his mind is elsewhere. His thoughts are stuck on Sukuna. Why did he give her a sip of his drink? Was he trying to flirt?
You turn to him, offering a soft smile. “I guess I am. It’s a nice escape.”
Gojo leans casually against the doorway, crossing his arms as he observes you. The way you speak with that soft voice, how you seem so at ease in a quiet space like this—it makes him wonder why you even came to this party. “How do you know Sukuna?” he asks suddenly, the words spilling out before he can stop himself.
You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, we all went to middle school together,” you say with a small shrug. “And we’re working on a group project together.”
Of course, Gojo knows you all went to the same middle school, but the mention of the project twists something inside him. He thinks about his own experience with that stupid project—how Nanami threatens to kick him out of the group every ten seconds.
Gojo nods, trying to seem casual. “Makes sense,” he mutters, though jealousy simmers beneath his playful exterior.
You tilt your head, noticing the shift in his demeanor. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugs, his signature grin returning, though it feels a little forced. “No reason. Just curious.”
You give him a polite smile, though part of you feels a little weirded out by his sudden interest.
Gojo decides to change the subject. “Alright, you ready for lesson number two?”
“Lesson two?” you echo, confused.
“Dancing,” he declares confidently, holding his hand out to you.
Your heart skips a beat at his sudden boldness. His hand is warm and inviting, and when you place yours in his, that strange spark of electricity returns. You look up at him, wondering what this feeling is and why it’s so new.
He leads you back to the main room, where music fills the air and the crowd is lost in the rhythm. The energy here is electric, the air thick with motion and laughter.
“I don’t know how to dance,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
Gojo turns to face you, his grin softening into something more sincere. “That’s fine. I’ll teach you.”
He places his hands on your waist, gentle and patient as he guides your movements. His confidence seems effortless, and it steadies your nerves. At first, your steps are clumsy and uncertain, but you gradually begin to follow the rhythm, your body swaying in time with his.
The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through you, and his piercing blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. You glance down, feeling self-conscious under his gaze, but the corners of his mouth lift in a reassuring smile.
“See?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You’re getting the hang of it.”
You laugh nervously, your cheeks heating up. “I think you’re just a good teacher.”
Gojo chuckles, his hands steady on your waist. “Or maybe I just have a good student.”
The playful banter feels intimate, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades away.
Across the room, Sukuna leans against the wall, his crimson eyes locked onto the two of you. His posture is casual, but his gaze is sharp, tracing the way your body moves in rhythm with Gojo’s. You’re swaying innocently, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.
Sukuna’s jaw tightens. He hates this feeling—this burning jealousy. His gaze shifts to Gojo, who looks far too pleased as he leads you through the dance. It’s obvious now. Gojo isn’t just being friendly; he’s hitting on you.
Beside him, Yuuji notices his brother’s tense demeanor. “Yo, you good?” Yuuji asks, leaning casually against the wall beside Sukuna.
Sukuna scoffs, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m amazing. Thanks for asking.”
Yuuji rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to lie, you know. I can see you glaring at Gojo like you want to set him on fire.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sukuna mutters, his eyes never leaving you.
Yuuji raises an eyebrow. “Do you like her or something?”
Sukuna lets out a harsh laugh. “Me? Like a nerd like her? Don’t make me laugh.”
Yuuji stares at him, disbelief written all over his face. “Then why are you looking at her like she’s your prey?”
The words strike a nerve, and Sukuna snaps without thinking. “Why don’t you shut up and focus on yourself? Or maybe go cry to Dad about it—oh wait.”
The second the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. Yuuji’s expression hardens, his usual cheerful demeanor vanishing.
“You’re an asshole,” Yuuji says quietly, his voice cold and sharp. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving Sukuna standing there, his chest tight with regret.
Sukuna curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t chase after Yuuji—he can’t. He’s too consumed by his own frustration and jealousy, his eyes drawn back to you.
You’re laughing now, your face lit up as Gojo twirls you in the middle of the crowd. Sukuna clenches his jaw, the weight of his own emotions suffocating him. For the first time in a long time, he feels powerless—and it’s a feeling he can’t stand.
As you step away from the dance floor, your movements slightly slower from exhaustion, you turn to Gojo. “Do you know where the bathroom is?”
He nods, pointing towards the staircase at the far end of the room. “Upstairs, second door on the right.”
You thank him with a soft smile before heading toward the stairs, weaving your way through the lively crowd. Gojo watches you go for a moment before realizing how thirsty he is. With a shrug, he moves to the drink station to grab a glass of water.
As he turns back, his eyes land on Sukuna, seated alone in the corner of the room. His posture is relaxed, but the tension in his jaw and the dark look in his eyes make it clear something’s bothering him.
Curiosity gets the better of Gojo, and he approaches, sliding into the seat next to Sukuna. “Yo,” he greets casually. “You good?”
Sukuna doesn’t bother looking at him. “What do you think?” he replies, his tone sharp.
Gojo raises an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic attitude but doesn’t press immediately. Instead, he leans back in his seat, glancing at the crowd before turning his attention back to his friend. “You seem… off.”
There’s a long silence before Sukuna speaks, his voice quieter this time. “I hurt Yuuji’s feelings.”
That catches Gojo off guard. He straightens in his seat, giving Sukuna his full attention. “What happened?”
Sukuna sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “We had a stupid argument, and I said something about Dad.” His voice lowers even further, almost like he’s ashamed to say it out loud.
Gojo doesn’t say anything, sensing that Sukuna isn’t done.
“I didn’t mean it,” Sukuna continues, frustration lacing his tone. “It just… came out. I was pissed off, and he kept poking at me.” He pauses, his fingers tapping against his glass. “But I didn’t mean to hurt him. I don’t want him to think I don’t miss our father, because I do.”
Gojo nods slightly, his face serious as he processes Sukuna’s words. “Grief’s tricky,” he finally says. “It messes with your head. But you can’t keep it bottled up forever.”
Sukuna exhales sharply, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s not just that. I haven’t been able to process it. Every time I try, it’s like—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Gojo says, his voice unusually gentle. “But you should try talking to Yuuji. He’ll get it. You know he will.”
Sukuna scoffs softly, but there’s no real heat behind it. “He thinks I’m an asshole.”
Gojo smirks faintly. “You can be. But he also knows you care, even if you don’t always show it the right way.”
The two fall into silence, a rare moment of vulnerability hanging in the air between them.
Suddenly, Sukuna’s gaze shifts to the staircase, and Gojo follows his line of sight. There you are, descending the stairs with a grace neither of them can ignore.
Sukuna’s next question catches Gojo completely off guard. “Do you like her?”
Gojo stiffens, his composure slipping for a brief moment. “What?”
“You heard me,” Sukuna says, his tone unreadable.
Gojo scratches the back of his neck, feeling heat rise to his face. “No, of course not,” he says quickly. “Why would you even ask that?”
Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, his crimson eyes fixed on you as you rejoin the crowd.
After a beat, Gojo turns the question back to Sukuna. “Do you like her?”
The question hangs heavy in the air, and Sukuna fights the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s just my project partner,” Sukuna mutters before Gojo can ask again.
Gojo blinks, caught off guard by Sukuna’s dismissal. For reasons he doesn’t fully understand, he feels a flicker of relief. “Right… just a classmate.”
The music thumps loudly in the background, the bass reverberating through your chest as you weave through the crowd, searching for Gojo. The party feels overwhelming now, bodies pressing in from every side, the air thick with sweat and alcohol. You try to keep calm, clutching the edges of your cardigan as you move.
Suddenly, you feel it—a hand grabbing your ass. You freeze, a cold wave of fear washing over you. Turning around, your eyes meet Mahito’s smug, twisted grin. His pale blue eyes glint with something that makes your stomach churn.
“Didn’t think a cute little thing like you would show up to a place like this,” he sneers, his voice low and dripping with malice. His hand hovers too close, and your heart races as panic begins to set in. “You’re looking lonely. Want me to keep you company? I promise I can make it worth your while.”
You take a shaky step back, your hands trembling as you try to summon the courage to tell him off, but the words catch in your throat. Before you can move further, you bump into someone else—Jogo. His eyes rake over you, filled with a predatory leer that sends a shiver down your spine.
“Look at you, shaking like a leaf,” Mahito whispers into your ear, his breath hot and repulsive against your skin. “C’mon, don’t be scared. I’ll be gentle.”
Tears prick your eyes as you push past them, your breath hitching. “Don’t touch me,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.
But Mahito’s laughter follows you, sharp and cruel. “Playing hard to get, huh? I like that,” he calls after you, his voice cutting through the noise of the party. “Bet you’ll come back begging for it soon enough.”
The humiliation, the fear—it’s all too much. You push through the crowd, your vision blurring with tears. You don’t care who sees you cry. All you want is to get out, to get as far away as possible.
You spot the door, the exit glowing faintly like a beacon of salvation. You shove it open, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap. Your feet carry you away from the house, almost running now, the noise of the party fading behind you.
Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps as you clutch your cardigan tightly around you, wrapping it like a shield against the world. Tears stream freely down your face, your body shaking as you realize you don’t even know where you’re going. The night is dark, and the streets feel endless. The fear from Mahito’s touch lingers, his words echoing in your mind like a poison you can’t shake.
Each step feels heavier than the last, your chest aching with a mix of shame and despair. You hug yourself tightly, wishing you could disappear, wishing none of this had ever happened.
The streetlights blur in the distance, and your sobs break through the quiet of the night as you keep walking, alone and lost.
Gojo pushed himself up from the couch, his gaze scanning the crowded room. “I’m going to look for her,” he said, clapping Sukuna on the back. “She’s probably just wandered off somewhere.”
Sukuna forced a faint smile, watching as Gojo headed toward the door. The grin didn’t feel right—it wasn’t genuine. He wasn’t even sure why. Was it jealousy? Frustration? Or was grief making him latch onto something, someone, just to feel anything other than this emptiness?
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Focus.
Sukuna started walking through the party, his eyes scanning for any sign of you. Passing through the dimly lit living room, he paused when he caught sight of Shoko and Geto locked in a drunken kiss on the couch. He blinked, momentarily stunned. “Well, that’s… something I didn’t need to see,” he muttered under his breath, turning around quickly.
Making his way toward the bar, Sukuna spotted Gojo returning with a defeated look on his face.
“She’s not here,” Gojo said, shaking his head. “She might’ve left early. This really isn’t her scene.”
Sukuna chuckled, the sound hollow. “Yeah, figured as much.”
Gojo reached into his pocket, fumbling for his keys. “I think I’m heading out too. This party’s losing its charm. You staying?”
“Maybe for a bit longer,” Sukuna replied, watching as Gojo waved goodbye and disappeared into the night.
Leaning against the bar, Sukuna grabbed his drink and downed it, his eyes aimlessly scanning the room. He was just about to brush off the nagging feeling in his chest when his phone buzzed against the counter. He ignored it at first, but something compelled him to check.
Your name lit up the screen.
His heart skipped a beat as he swiped to answer. “Y/N?”
The sound of your sobbing cut through the noise of the party, and he immediately straightened. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, your voice shaking.
He cursed under his breath, moving to a quieter corner. “Alright, listen to me. Breathe. In and out. Slow. Good. Now, tell me what you see around you.”
You sniffled, your breaths still uneven as you described the buildings near you. “T-There’s a blue house and a grey house next to it. There’s I- I don’t know, an orange tree.” As you spoke, Sukuna’s mind pieced together your location. He knew exactly where you were.
“Stay there. Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”
He hung up and pushed through the crowd toward the door. Mahito appeared out of nowhere, blocking his path.
“Where you going?” Mahito slurred, his grin too wide. “We’ve got more shots lined up!”
“Not now,” Sukuna snapped, shoving past him.
Jogo called after him, but Sukuna didn’t care, the adrenaline coursing. The rain had started as a drizzle when Sukuna pushed through the front doors of the party, but now it was pounding against his windshield as he drove toward the area you’d described.
The streets were dimly lit, the lights blurring under the relentless rain. Sukuna’s heart raced, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with every passing second. He couldn’t see you anywhere.
“Where are you?” he muttered under his breath, scanning the streets and sidewalks. The thought of you alone, scared, and vulnerable made his chest tighten.
And then he saw you—a small figure crouched under a tree, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trembling. The sight of you, soaked and shivering, sent a pang through him.
He pulled the car over and was out in an instant, the rain drenching him as he ran to you.
“Y/N,” he said, kneeling in front of you.
You didn’t look up, your shoulders shaking as quiet sobs escaped you.
“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice softer. “It’s me. I’m here now.”
You finally glanced up, your face streaked with tears and rainwater. “Sukuna…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Without thinking, he pulled you into his arms. You were cold—freezing—and he could feel you trembling against him. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay now.”
He guided you to the car, opening the door and helping you in. He fastened your seatbelt with care, his fingers brushing against your damp cardigan as he secured you. Once you were settled, he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
The car was silent except for the rain pelting the roof and the sound of your quiet sobs. Sukuna kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel the weight of your presence next to him.
He didn’t know where to take you—your dorm? Somewhere safe? He needed to figure out what had happened.
He pulled into an empty parking lot, the car idling as he turned to face you. “Y/N,” he said gently. “What happened?”
You shook your head, your hands gripping the edges of your cardigan as if trying to shield yourself. “I… I tried calling Shoko,” you began, your voice trembling. “But she didn’t answer.”
Sukuna frowned, his mind flashing to Shoko drunkenly tangled with Geto back at the party. Of course, she hadn’t answered. But he didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset you further.
“I didn’t know who else to call,” you admitted, your voice cracking.
Sukuna’s throat tightened. “I’m glad you called me,” he said softly. “You did the right thing.”
You let out a shaky breath, your eyes avoiding his. “I… I can’t…”
“Y/N,” he pressed, his tone firm but not harsh. “You need to tell me what happened.”
You shook your head again, your breaths coming quicker. He could see the panic rising in you, your chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.
“Hey, hey,” Sukuna said quickly, leaning closer. “Look at me. Breathe with me, okay? In… and out. Just focus on my voice.”
You tried to follow his lead, your breathing slowly evening out as you clung to his words.
“Good,” he said, his voice steady. “Now, tell me. Did someone do something to you?”
Your silence was answer enough. Sukuna’s heart sank, dread pooling in his stomach.
“Y/N,” he said carefully, his voice low. “Please. I need to know.”
You nodded slowly, tears streaming down your face as you whispered, “Mahito… he… he grabbed me. He said things—awful things. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared…”
Sukuna’s entire body went rigid, his jaw clenching as rage coursed through him. “That son of a—”
“No!” you cried, your voice rising in panic. “Please, Sukuna, don’t do anything. Just… please don’t.”
His anger faltered when he saw the fear in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, he softened his tone. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. None of this was your fault. Do you hear me?”
You nodded, your sobs quieting, though your shoulders still trembled.
“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked gently.
“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
He nodded, turning the car back on and pulling out of the parking lot. The ride was silent again, but this time, it felt a little lighter. Sukuna glanced at you from time to time, his chest tightening at the sight of you curled up in the seat, your damp cardigan wrapped tightly around you.
He didn’t know how to fix this, but one thing was certain: Mahito would pay for what he’d done. But that was a problem for later. Right now, all that mattered was you.
The rain had lessened to a drizzle by the time Sukuna arrived at your dorms. The drive had been tense, filled only with the rhythmic thrum of rain on the windshield and your occasional sniffles. Sukuna parked the car, turning the engine off before glancing at you.
“You good to walk up?” he asked softly, breaking the silence.
You nodded, but your trembling frame betrayed the truth. Your clothes clung to your skin, soaked through, and your shivering was uncontrollable. Sukuna frowned, pulling off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could offer.
“Come on,” he said gently, stepping out into the rain and coming around to your side of the car.
The two of you walked in silence up to your dorm. Sukuna stayed close, his presence steadying despite the turmoil swirling within him. When you reached your door, your hands fumbled with the keys, and Sukuna reached out to help steady them.
Once the door creaked open, Sukuna hesitated. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked, his voice low and careful. “Or… should I go?”
You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I think I just want to be alone.”
He nodded, his jaw tightening as he took a step back. “Alright,” he said, his tone understanding. “But if you need anything—anything at all—you call me, okay? Or text. I’ll come back.”
You nodded, tears still streaming down your face as you whispered, “Thank you.”
The door closed softly, leaving Sukuna standing alone in the hallway. For a moment, he just stared at the door, his fists clenching at his sides. Then he turned and walked back to his car.
The drive to his dorm was suffocating. Anger bubbled within him, each thought of Mahito stoking the fire further. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. It took everything in him not to spin the car around and drive straight back to the party. He wanted to find Mahito, to make him pay for what he’d done.
By the time he reached his dorm, Sukuna was vibrating with rage. He slammed the car door shut and stormed inside.
Yuuji was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but he looked up immediately when Sukuna entered. His brother’s anger was palpable, filling the room like a storm cloud.
“What’s wrong?” Yuuji asked, his brow furrowing.
Sukuna didn’t answer, kicking off his shoes with unnecessary force and heading toward his room.
“Sukuna,” Yuuji called, standing up. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sukuna snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut.
But Yuuji wasn’t having it. “You never want to talk about it!” he yelled, his voice rising. “You shut me out every single time!”
“Yuuji, drop it,” Sukuna warned, his hands balling into fists.
“No!” Yuuji shouted, his own anger flaring. “I’m sick of this! I’m sick of grieving on my own while you act like nothing happened! I need you, Sukuna! I need my brother!”
Sukuna froze, Yuuji’s words hitting him like a freight train. But the weight of everything—the anger, the grief, the helplessness—it was too much.
He turned suddenly, grabbing a lamp off the table and hurling it across the room. The crash echoed, making Yuuji flinch. Sukuna didn’t stop. He swiped books off the shelf, kicked a chair, his rage manifesting in destruction.
“Stop!” Yuuji cried, his voice trembling. “Sukuna, stop!”
But Sukuna couldn’t. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he stood in the middle of the chaos he’d created. And then, all at once, he broke.
He sank to his knees, his hands covering his face as the tears came. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs that shook his entire body.
Yuuji’s own tears started to fall as he rushed to his brother, dropping to his knees beside him. “Sukuna…” he whispered, his voice cracking.
“I’m trying,” Sukuna choked out, his voice muffled behind his hands. “I’m trying so hard, but I’m failing.”
“No, you’re not,” Yuuji said firmly, wrapping his arms around Sukuna.
“I am!” Sukuna shouted, his voice breaking. “I’m failing, Yuuji. I’m failing at everything. I’m failing Dad. I promised him… I promised I’d make him proud. I’d be captain, graduate with honors. But I’m failing.”
“You’re not failing,” Yuuji said, his own tears streaming down his face.
“I am,” Sukuna insisted, his voice barely a whisper now. “I’ve failed my classes. I lost my position as captain because I couldn’t handle it… because I couldn’t handle losing him. I’m a mess, Yuuji. I’ve failed.”
Yuuji tightened his hold on him, his own sobs shaking his frame. “You haven’t failed, Sukuna,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’re trying. That’s all Dad would’ve wanted. He wouldn’t care about the GPA or being captain. He just wanted us to be okay.”
“I miss him,” Sukuna whispered, his voice raw.
“I miss him too,” Yuuji said, his voice cracking. “But you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”
The two of them sat there, holding onto each other as their grief poured out. The storm inside them finally had a moment to break, and for the first time in a long time, Sukuna didn’t feel entirely alone.
Yuuji sat on the floor of Sukuna’s room, the faint hum of the air conditioner filling the silence. His brother had calmed down, though the tension in his jaw and the distant look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t entirely at peace. Yuuji leaned back against the bed frame, glancing at Sukuna, who was seated on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
“You okay now?” Yuuji asked softly, his voice careful not to disturb the fragile quiet between them.
Sukuna nodded slightly but didn’t look at him. “Yeah,” he muttered.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Yuuji spoke again. “You’re not like this for no reason. Did something happen?”
Sukuna exhaled heavily, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Y/N called me earlier. Crying,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant.
Yuuji blinked. “She called you? What happened?”
Sukuna ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he stopped, as if the thought alone was too much to bear.
“Because…” he started but trailed off, shaking his head.
“Because what?” Yuuji pressed, concern now lacing his tone.
Sukuna’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles white. He didn’t want to say it. Saying it made it real, and real meant he would have to face what happened. Worse, it meant he’d have to decide what to do.
Yuuji leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Sukuna,” he said firmly but not unkindly. “What happened?”
Sukuna swallowed hard, his jaw working as he tried to form the words. Finally, he forced them out. “Mahito groped her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Yuuji froze. “What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard him right.
Sukuna looked up, his eyes meeting Yuuji’s for the first time. “He groped her,” he repeated, his voice sharper now, filled with anger and disgust.
Yuuji stared at him, his expression shifting between disbelief and fury. “Is she… is she okay?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Sukuna shook his head, his frustration evident. “She was shaking like a damn leaf, Yuuji. She could barely talk. She just… she didn’t even want me to stay. She wanted to be alone.”
Yuuji let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “And what are you going to do?” he asked, his tone quiet but heavy with meaning.
Sukuna leaned back, his fists clenching again. “I’m waiting,” he said simply.
“For what?” Yuuji asked, frowning.
“For her,” Sukuna said, his voice softer now. “I’m not going to do anything unless she wants me to. It’s her choice. Not mine.”
Yuuji nodded slowly, the weight of the situation sinking in. He wanted to say more, to do something, but he knew Sukuna was right. Whatever happened next had to be your decision.
Still, the thought of you being hurt like that filled him with a quiet rage. “If you need me,” Yuuji said after a long pause, “you know I’ve got your back.”
Sukuna didn’t respond immediately, but after a moment, he nodded. “I know.”
The room fell into silence again, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Sukuna’s mind raced with images of you, your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands. And Yuuji, for the first time, saw a side of his brother he hadn’t before—a man struggling to balance his anger, his protective instincts, and his respect for someone else’s autonomy.
