(this is my first post on here sorry for any mistakes! Iâm new to writing so Iâm still trying to learn and get better. Credits to @su2kuna for the art.)
You walked into class late already miserable and tired, Staying up late studying and waking up at the crack of dawn. Usually it wouldnât be a problem but the short 4 hours of sleep youâve being getting finally caught up to you. Today hasnât been great, waking up late threw your whole routine off. Having to take the buss ride to campus since your car was still in the shop. Not having enough time to grab coffee or anything to eat, nothing else could possibly go wrongâŠright?
So imagine your surprise when you walk into class and see everyone paired up in twos, conversing about the project your professor pulled out of nowhere. Walking to your professors desk with a small smile, hoping that sheâd just let you work by yourself. Group projects were always an inconvenience. Having to micromanage people to make sure they do their part. Spending the extra time meeting with whoever you were working with when you could easily finish it faster by yourself.Â
You clocked something was off by the look on Mrs. Smithâs face. A smile that didnât quite reach her eyes, like she already felt bad for what was about to come out of her mouth. Â
_
âMrs.Smith please literally anyone else but him. I can handle the work load alone you know I can.â
The older woman sighed her lips pressing into a thin line her eyes softening apologetically.
âSorry hun I canât allow you to work alone for this one. The board committee made some new rule about the equal amount of points given to students.â
Mrs. Smith clicked her tongue as if she thought it was just as stupid.
Ryomen Sukuna is a name everyone on campus knew. Quite literally the king of his fraternity and star of the basketball team. He was usually in the center of every scandal or rumor. Girls raved about him, he was a certified manhore, arrogant, had an ego the size of Texas. He rarely attended any of his classes and probably paid someone to do his work for him. Otherwise thereâs no way heâd be even passing this class. He stood out everywhere he went being 6â5 and 250 pounds of muscle, salmon pink hair and covered in tattoos. In other words a walking red flag. The type of person you would usually stray away from.
With the planning sheet papers in your hand, your eyes scanned the room for your partner. He was easy to find sitting at the back of the class. Black hoodie over his head scrolling on his phone like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Tattoos peeking from the sleeves of his hoodie.
Ignoring the headache that was already forming, you sighed heavily and made your way to where he was sitting.Â
âUhmâŠexcuse me.â
The sound of your voice grabs his attention, whatever on his phone no longer important. His sharp ruby eyes widening slightly at the sight of you.Â
Fuck itâs you, wait itâs you? When did you even come in? And why were you talking to him of all people? He doesnât even realize heâs just staring at you and not saying anything back until you clear your throat awkwardly.
âYou need somethin?â
His voice comes out a bit harsher than he wouldâve liked it sounded as if he was irritated. Which he was but not at you. Sukuna has always noticed you around campus, well everyone did, it was hard not to.Â
You were absolutely gorgeous, the type of pretty that should be on magazine covers. You were smart, getting into college on scholarship, always at the top of your classes. Scoring high on exams that more than half the class failed. You shined in every room you walked in without trying to stand out.Â
Sukuna never saw you at partyâs nor did he ever see you outside of campus. From his knowledge you donât have many friends and seem pretty reserved, often sticking to yourself unless necessary. You had your life together and clearly ran a strict program. You ended up scaring most people off apparently. Your friends that you did have told you that before getting to know you they found you intimidating.Â
You never understand how you came off as scary or intimidating. Hearing that over and over grew to be frustrating over the course of your life. People often look at you and automatically assume youâre unfriendly because of your reserved nature. Not even taking the chance to get to know you first before sticking the label that youâre unapproachable. Youâve heard from people how pretty you were, yet you never got flirted with at partyâs, never gotten your number asked for at bars. Just the girl that listened to all her friends rant about their relationships, Situationships, and everything in between. Sure, you werenât short or petite being taller than the average man and having a fuller figure. You wanted to experience love and feel the intimacy everybody else claimed was indispensable. Overtime you just stopped caring and went on with your life. Your priorities shifted as you got older and entered college. You were more focused on finishing your courses so you can hurry up and finish medical school to become a doctor. You gave up on the idea of finding someone and being in a relationship. From what youâve seen from your how your friends relationships and stories from other people, itâs not that great. Whatâs the point in being with someone if itâs not long term? Getting attached to that person and giving them your time and energy for it to just end abruptly seemed pointless.Â
âSince we seem to be the only ones without partners, would you wanna do the project with me?â
Sukuna blinks a couple times, heâs kinda had a crush on you but will never admit that not even to himself. He thinks youâre beautiful sure but that was it. At least thatâs what he tells himself. Sukuna prided himself in his looks and athleticism. He usually came up to any girl he felt like and was able to flirt without a care in the world. Yet he never approached you. Mainly because he rarely saw you and the few times he did by chance you were gone in an instant. He rarely showed up to class so why would someone as beautiful and smart as you waste your time with someone like him. In his mind he was light years out of your league.
âNot like I have any other choice.â
He replies his eyes subtly roaming over your face. Crimson eyes taking in your facial features, your glossed lips, coils bobbing with any movement from your head. Your brown skin glowing, fuck you were pretty.
âCool, we should probably exchange numbers. So we can get in contact with each other.â
You say, oblivious to the way heâs looking at you. He hands you his phone and you put your number in his phone. Sending yourself a text to save his number in your phone later.
âIâm y/n by the way.â
He already knew your name from stalking your instagram page countless of times.
âSukuna.â
-
Itâs been a few hours since that interaction with you and Sukuna hasnât stop thinking about it. The way your manicured nails typed your number into his phone. The sound of your voice, how your curls bounced as you walked away, the sway of your hips. He couldnât get you out of his head. Even as he went to practice that day, he couldnât stop thinking about his parter in biochem.
The steam flowing from the shower fogging up the mirrors, towel low on his hips as he stepped out the bathroom into his room. He changed into some basketball shorts and a black wife beater and slumped on his bed. He stared at your contact name for five whole minutes straight, debating whether to text first. Since when did he put any thought into his texts? His thumbs hovered over his screen before typing something, deleting it and then typing again. Then as if you could sense his inner turmoil.
Y/n| Hey we should probably meet soon to talk about the project, lmk when youâre free.
Sukuna| I have practice but I should be free Wednesday after class
Y/n| Sounds good.
It was short, barely could even be called a conversation, but for some reason as the week went on he found himself counting down the days until heâd see you again.Â
The day of the meet up comes up, he made sure to actually show up to class today. His palms are a bit sweaty, he didnât even know why he of all people was feeling nervous. It was just a simple meet up to discuss the project. So why the hell did he feel so anxious? You probably already thought he was a fat freaking chud who was incompetent. He finds you in a quiet corner tucked away in the library sitting by the window. Your laptop open as you typed something, your pinked themed notebooks open and covered in cute stickers, some type of sugary drink at your side. The sunlight catches your skin and eyes perfectly making you look like something out of a painting. Your curls pulled off your face and into a loose updo, edges swooped. He almost trips over his own two feet at the sight of you. Your eyes meet his and you give a small smile that he could tell was a little forced.
âYou showed up.â
You were a little surprised he even came to be honest, he took a seat opposite from you. The chair was honestly too small for him which made him look a little goofy.
âI said I would didnât I.â
He huffs, shifting in the small chair that creaked under his weight as he tried to find a comfortable position.
âYea but you didnât really strike me as the studious and punctual type.â
You tease, flipping through your organized folder to find your planning packet.
âHowâs that one saying go? Never judge someone by their looks or something.â
Sukuna shifts again in the chair that he makes look doll size, struggling to not look as stupid.Â
âNever judge a book by its cover?â
You corrected lips quirking into a smirk at his interpretation of the saying.
âSame shit.â
âItâs not but if you say so.â
The whole time youâre the main one taking lead in the conversation. You ask him about which parts he feels comfortable to take responsibility for the project. Which he just responds with a shrug telling you whichever parts you donât want heâll take. He seems like his mind is somewhere else. He hasnât stop looking at you since you started talking which makes you think heâs actively listening.Â
Whole time Sukunaâs just lost at the sight of you. Heâs never had a chance to talk to you like this. Your to busy chatting about genealogy and the evolution of chemistry. He watches the way your eyes light up and you begin to speak a little faster when you talk about a topic that interests you. Sukuna nods along like he understands everything you just spewed out from your mouth.
âDid you hear me?â
âMhm.â
âI asked you when we should meet up again, we have a good few weeks until we have to turn it in.â
âOhâŠIâm free whenever.â
He shrugged nonchalantly as if his schedule wasnât already packed with basketball practices, weights, partyâs, and meetups with his team. But if it meant he could talk to you more heâd find a way to make it work.
âOkay, then Same time next week?â
âYea that works.â
-
The cold air from the Ac hits Sukunaâs damp skin as he steps inside your apartment. He tosses his keys you lent him in the bowl you had on the nearby table. Kicks his shoes off at the door and neatly puts them beside your own.Â
âBabe?â
The place is quiet which isnât unusual, he can hear the soft music coming from down the hall so he knows your home. If you told Sukuna a year ago that heâd be dating the girl heâs had a crush on since freshman year. Heâd probably scoff at you and look at you like you grew two heads.Â
You were a bit weary of him at first, I mean who wouldnât be? From all the things you heard about him you kinda just expected him to be this jockey asshole who would be difficult to work with. However, Sukuna proved you wrong. After the first meeting you two had he went back home and stared at the numerous amount of planning sheets and side notes you wrote on the side in pink pen. Only to realize he had no fuckin clue what he was even looking at. Which led to him asking you to tutor him every now in then. He couldâve asked someone else but part of him just wanted an excuse to see you more than once a week. For some reason unbeknownst to him you agreed. You used to scold him when he seemed like he wasnât paying attention. âAre you even listening Ryo?â Youâd say with that signature glare and tilt of your head. He wasnât paying attention because he was too busy admiring the way you looked and the sound of your voice explaining equations and chemical formulas. Sukuna was extremely smart when he actually applied himself. Soon enough he fully understood concepts from the modules he previously skipped. Ever since then heâs been taking his academics seriously and started studying, mostly to impress youâŠActually only to impress you.
He drops his gym bag down by the side of the couch and   Makes his way to your room. He knows your playlist by heart, so much so that he can recognize Cleo Solâs voice coming from the crack of your door. Youâre sitting at your vanity taking out your flexi rods out of your hair. Pink silk robe tied loosely, your room smells like that sweet vanilla candle you always light at night. The flowers you always insist on getting even though he bought you new flowers every week. Along with a hint of your signature perfume that makes him feel like heâs home. Sunlight streaming through your window, the lighting hitting your face perfectly. Heâs leaning on your doorframe, head tilted, just watching for a few seconds.
âBaby.â
You jump a little at the sound of his voice snapping you out of the slight daze you were in. He watches as your eyes flicker up to his, how your facial expression softens at the sight of him.
âYou scared me Kuna, how long have you been standing there?â
âNot long.â
He answered, trudging over to where you sitting. He leaned down, his head resting on your shoulder with a heavy sigh, muscular arms snaking around your waist.
âRough practice?â
Your hands moved from separating your curls to massaging his face, trying to get his face to relax. It was like he had a permanent scowl etched on his face, mostly just because he was stressed.
âMhm, coach was on my ass and that blue eyed freak was ball hogging the whole fucking time.â
He grumbled turning his face in the crook of your neck peppering kisses along your neck to your face causing you to squirm and giggle.
âKuna go shower, youâre all musty and stinky.â
You urged pushing his face away causing him to furrow his eyebrows feigning hurt.
âI canât love on my girl?âÂ
You rolled your eyes going back to carefully separating the spirals in your hair.
âNot while youâre musty. Go shower baby I promise itâll make you feel better.â
He groans like heâs irritated mumbling under his breath but the hot steaming water was very enticing after the tough practice he just had. Plus your shower had the perfect water pressure and he was going to use your good shampoo and conditioner despite having his own products for whenever he was over your place which was basically all the time.
âFine.â
He stalks over to your bathroom, you hear the water turn and an exhale leaves his lips.Â
When you made your relationship with Sukuna public it caused shock around campus. To most people it made no sense, your aesthetics and personalityâs were complete opposites, how could someone so quiet be with someone so loud? Sukuna thrived in the spotlight, he lived in the bright lights and deafening music. The never ending partyâs that started in the dead of night and didnât end till early morning. The burn of alcohol down his throat, smoke that curled around him temporarily blinding him from his responsibilities and problems. The sorority girls and cheerleaders he ended up in toxic ass relationships with. The screams and chants from the crowd from the stadium, he used to fien for that lifestyle. He chased after it like air because to Sukuna thatâs all he ever knew. Since a young age his life has been full of never ending noise, one thing after another, for a long time he avoided the hush of the quiet because it was uncomfortable to him.
Yet when you came into his life, itâs like he put on glasses, yet he canât tell if everythingâs blurry or clear. You showed him that the quiet can be tranquil and comforting, not something to be scared of. Your soft smile and honeyed voice is what gets him through the day. He craves your attention and affection, the love he has for you genuinely scares him sometimes because heâd quite literally kill for you. Youâve got him wrapped around your pretty finger without even realizing it. Youâve taught him so much about himself simply by being who you are and allowing him in your life. He no longer spends his free time at parties his frat brothers hosts, he only goes when heâs required to show up for some event. When he goes he brings you along if you felt like going out that night. He started cutting back on the cigarettes and other stuff heâd normally get from choso. You mentioned how you hated the smell of cigarettes once and he just started to stop. He would occasionally light up a blunt if he was really stressed out but nothing crazy.Â
Because you were more to yourself by nature, people often got the misconception that you were either mean, stuck up, or shy. In which none of those cases are true. Sukuna never rushed you when you were speaking, he never forced a conversation or small talk. Sukuna didnât treat your silence like an obstacle he had to force out of you. Nor did he take your quietness personal. He didnât treat you based off the stereotypes people would place on you by default. He let you be yourself without feeling like you have to put on a character for somebody else. Overtime you slowly started showing more parts of yourself to him and he was able to feel a sense of security and peace simply by being in your presence. You started to joke around and be more playful, you shared thoughts youâd normally just keep to yourself. Sukuna remembers the first time you FaceTimed him on your own accord. He answered your call halfway through the first ring, his heart beating in his ears. You were laying down on your stomach in your bed, a pink throw pillow halfway hiding your smile at how fast he answered the phone.
Sukuna steps out of the shower his hair damp, water droplets dripping on his forehead. He changes into some sweatpants and is too tired to bother with a shirt. He makes his way to the kitchen since you werenât in your room like before. Youâre standing at the counter looking like a Disney princess while making him a plate of food you made earlier. Youâre still in your pink robe, your hair fluffed out and all bouncy. For someone as big as Sukuna he had the most silent footsteps. He comes up behind you, your back hitting his hard chest. His hands rub up and down your sides occasionally massaging the plush flesh of your ass before settling on your wide hips.
âFeel better?â
You ask softly turning around to face him holding out the plate to him.Â
âMhm.â
He hums looking down at you with half lidded eyes. He takes the plate out of your hands only to set it back down on the counter top. His hands block you in as he continues where he left off showering you with kisses. Within a year youâve managed to turn the Ryomen Sukuna who picks fights every where he went and partied like no tomorrow into a mushy soft hearted man who is severely in love with his beautiful girlfriend.
He kisses you along your jaw, your cheeks then on your forehead and finally a slow but sweet kiss to your lips. He finally pulled away a little breathless as he looked at you like you hung the moon.
âMissed your pretty face.â
He muttered his calloused hands gently coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek.
âYou saw me this morning Ryo.â
âStill too fuckin long.â
The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on the couch engulfed in blankets. You tucked by his side, his arm thrown around your shoulder pulling you closer. Whatever movie you two picked for the night playing on the tv casting light across both of your faces.Rain pattering against the floor to ceiling window like background noise. With you everything seemed to fade in the background, all his problems seemed irrelevant. Being able to come home to you was a blessing he didnât know what he did to deserve.
A/n this was way longer than I intended also I suck at dialogue.
(this is my first post on here sorry for any mistakes! Iâm new to writing so Iâm still trying to learn and get better. Credits to @su2kuna for the art.)
You walked into class late already miserable and tired, Staying up late studying and waking up at the crack of dawn. Usually it wouldnât be a problem but the short 4 hours of sleep youâve being getting finally caught up to you. Today hasnât been great, waking up late threw your whole routine off. Having to take the buss ride to campus since your car was still in the shop. Not having enough time to grab coffee or anything to eat, nothing else could possibly go wrongâŠright?
So imagine your surprise when you walk into class and see everyone paired up in twos, conversing about the project your professor pulled out of nowhere. Walking to your professors desk with a small smile, hoping that sheâd just let you work by yourself. Group projects were always an inconvenience. Having to micromanage people to make sure they do their part. Spending the extra time meeting with whoever you were working with when you could easily finish it faster by yourself.Â
You clocked something was off by the look on Mrs. Smithâs face. A smile that didnât quite reach her eyes, like she already felt bad for what was about to come out of her mouth. Â
_
âMrs.Smith please literally anyone else but him. I can handle the work load alone you know I can.â
The older woman sighed her lips pressing into a thin line her eyes softening apologetically.
âSorry hun I canât allow you to work alone for this one. The board committee made some new rule about the equal amount of points given to students.â
Mrs. Smith clicked her tongue as if she thought it was just as stupid.
Ryomen Sukuna is a name everyone on campus knew. Quite literally the king of his fraternity and star of the basketball team. He was usually in the center of every scandal or rumor. Girls raved about him, he was a certified manhore, arrogant, had an ego the size of Texas. He rarely attended any of his classes and probably paid someone to do his work for him. Otherwise thereâs no way heâd be even passing this class. He stood out everywhere he went being 6â5 and 250 pounds of muscle, salmon pink hair and covered in tattoos. In other words a walking red flag. The type of person you would usually stray away from.
With the planning sheet papers in your hand, your eyes scanned the room for your partner. He was easy to find sitting at the back of the class. Black hoodie over his head scrolling on his phone like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Tattoos peeking from the sleeves of his hoodie.
Ignoring the headache that was already forming, you sighed heavily and made your way to where he was sitting.Â
âUhmâŠexcuse me.â
The sound of your voice grabs his attention, whatever on his phone no longer important. His sharp ruby eyes widening slightly at the sight of you.Â
Fuck itâs you, wait itâs you? When did you even come in? And why were you talking to him of all people? He doesnât even realize heâs just staring at you and not saying anything back until you clear your throat awkwardly.
âYou need somethin?â
His voice comes out a bit harsher than he wouldâve liked it sounded as if he was irritated. Which he was but not at you. Sukuna has always noticed you around campus, well everyone did, it was hard not to.Â
You were absolutely gorgeous, the type of pretty that should be on magazine covers. You were smart, getting into college on scholarship, always at the top of your classes. Scoring high on exams that more than half the class failed. You shined in every room you walked in without trying to stand out.Â
Sukuna never saw you at partyâs nor did he ever see you outside of campus. From his knowledge you donât have many friends and seem pretty reserved, often sticking to yourself unless necessary. You had your life together and clearly ran a strict program. You ended up scaring most people off apparently. Your friends that you did have told you that before getting to know you they found you intimidating.Â
You never understand how you came off as scary or intimidating. Hearing that over and over grew to be frustrating over the course of your life. People often look at you and automatically assume youâre unfriendly because of your reserved nature. Not even taking the chance to get to know you first before sticking the label that youâre unapproachable. Youâve heard from people how pretty you were, yet you never got flirted with at partyâs, never gotten your number asked for at bars. Just the girl that listened to all her friends rant about their relationships, Situationships, and everything in between. Sure, you werenât short or petite being taller than the average man and having a fuller figure. You wanted to experience love and feel the intimacy everybody else claimed was indispensable. Overtime you just stopped caring and went on with your life. Your priorities shifted as you got older and entered college. You were more focused on finishing your courses so you can hurry up and finish medical school to become a doctor. You gave up on the idea of finding someone and being in a relationship. From what youâve seen from your how your friends relationships and stories from other people, itâs not that great. Whatâs the point in being with someone if itâs not long term? Getting attached to that person and giving them your time and energy for it to just end abruptly seemed pointless.Â
âSince we seem to be the only ones without partners, would you wanna do the project with me?â
Sukuna blinks a couple times, heâs kinda had a crush on you but will never admit that not even to himself. He thinks youâre beautiful sure but that was it. At least thatâs what he tells himself. Sukuna prided himself in his looks and athleticism. He usually came up to any girl he felt like and was able to flirt without a care in the world. Yet he never approached you. Mainly because he rarely saw you and the few times he did by chance you were gone in an instant. He rarely showed up to class so why would someone as beautiful and smart as you waste your time with someone like him. In his mind he was light years out of your league.
âNot like I have any other choice.â
He replies his eyes subtly roaming over your face. Crimson eyes taking in your facial features, your glossed lips, coils bobbing with any movement from your head. Your brown skin glowing, fuck you were pretty.
âCool, we should probably exchange numbers. So we can get in contact with each other.â
You say, oblivious to the way heâs looking at you. He hands you his phone and you put your number in his phone. Sending yourself a text to save his number in your phone later.
âIâm y/n by the way.â
He already knew your name from stalking your instagram page countless of times.
âSukuna.â
-
Itâs been a few hours since that interaction with you and Sukuna hasnât stop thinking about it. The way your manicured nails typed your number into his phone. The sound of your voice, how your curls bounced as you walked away, the sway of your hips. He couldnât get you out of his head. Even as he went to practice that day, he couldnât stop thinking about his parter in biochem.
The steam flowing from the shower fogging up the mirrors, towel low on his hips as he stepped out the bathroom into his room. He changed into some basketball shorts and a black wife beater and slumped on his bed. He stared at your contact name for five whole minutes straight, debating whether to text first. Since when did he put any thought into his texts? His thumbs hovered over his screen before typing something, deleting it and then typing again. Then as if you could sense his inner turmoil.
Y/n| Hey we should probably meet soon to talk about the project, lmk when youâre free.
Sukuna| I have practice but I should be free Wednesday after class
Y/n| Sounds good.
It was short, barely could even be called a conversation, but for some reason as the week went on he found himself counting down the days until heâd see you again.Â
The day of the meet up comes up, he made sure to actually show up to class today. His palms are a bit sweaty, he didnât even know why he of all people was feeling nervous. It was just a simple meet up to discuss the project. So why the hell did he feel so anxious? You probably already thought he was a fat freaking chud who was incompetent. He finds you in a quiet corner tucked away in the library sitting by the window. Your laptop open as you typed something, your pinked themed notebooks open and covered in cute stickers, some type of sugary drink at your side. The sunlight catches your skin and eyes perfectly making you look like something out of a painting. Your curls pulled off your face and into a loose updo, edges swooped. He almost trips over his own two feet at the sight of you. Your eyes meet his and you give a small smile that he could tell was a little forced.
âYou showed up.â
You were a little surprised he even came to be honest, he took a seat opposite from you. The chair was honestly too small for him which made him look a little goofy.
âI said I would didnât I.â
He huffs, shifting in the small chair that creaked under his weight as he tried to find a comfortable position.
âYea but you didnât really strike me as the studious and punctual type.â
You tease, flipping through your organized folder to find your planning packet.
âHowâs that one saying go? Never judge someone by their looks or something.â
Sukuna shifts again in the chair that he makes look doll size, struggling to not look as stupid.Â
âNever judge a book by its cover?â
You corrected lips quirking into a smirk at his interpretation of the saying.
âSame shit.â
âItâs not but if you say so.â
The whole time youâre the main one taking lead in the conversation. You ask him about which parts he feels comfortable to take responsibility for the project. Which he just responds with a shrug telling you whichever parts you donât want heâll take. He seems like his mind is somewhere else. He hasnât stop looking at you since you started talking which makes you think heâs actively listening.Â
Whole time Sukunaâs just lost at the sight of you. Heâs never had a chance to talk to you like this. Your to busy chatting about genealogy and the evolution of chemistry. He watches the way your eyes light up and you begin to speak a little faster when you talk about a topic that interests you. Sukuna nods along like he understands everything you just spewed out from your mouth.
âDid you hear me?â
âMhm.â
âI asked you when we should meet up again, we have a good few weeks until we have to turn it in.â
âOhâŠIâm free whenever.â
He shrugged nonchalantly as if his schedule wasnât already packed with basketball practices, weights, partyâs, and meetups with his team. But if it meant he could talk to you more heâd find a way to make it work.
âOkay, then Same time next week?â
âYea that works.â
-
The cold air from the Ac hits Sukunaâs damp skin as he steps inside your apartment. He tosses his keys you lent him in the bowl you had on the nearby table. Kicks his shoes off at the door and neatly puts them beside your own.Â
âBabe?â
The place is quiet which isnât unusual, he can hear the soft music coming from down the hall so he knows your home. If you told Sukuna a year ago that heâd be dating the girl heâs had a crush on since freshman year. Heâd probably scoff at you and look at you like you grew two heads.Â
You were a bit weary of him at first, I mean who wouldnât be? From all the things you heard about him you kinda just expected him to be this jockey asshole who would be difficult to work with. However, Sukuna proved you wrong. After the first meeting you two had he went back home and stared at the numerous amount of planning sheets and side notes you wrote on the side in pink pen. Only to realize he had no fuckin clue what he was even looking at. Which led to him asking you to tutor him every now in then. He couldâve asked someone else but part of him just wanted an excuse to see you more than once a week. For some reason unbeknownst to him you agreed. You used to scold him when he seemed like he wasnât paying attention. âAre you even listening Ryo?â Youâd say with that signature glare and tilt of your head. He wasnât paying attention because he was too busy admiring the way you looked and the sound of your voice explaining equations and chemical formulas. Sukuna was extremely smart when he actually applied himself. Soon enough he fully understood concepts from the modules he previously skipped. Ever since then heâs been taking his academics seriously and started studying, mostly to impress youâŠActually only to impress you.
He drops his gym bag down by the side of the couch and   Makes his way to your room. He knows your playlist by heart, so much so that he can recognize Cleo Solâs voice coming from the crack of your door. Youâre sitting at your vanity taking out your flexi rods out of your hair. Pink silk robe tied loosely, your room smells like that sweet vanilla candle you always light at night. The flowers you always insist on getting even though he bought you new flowers every week. Along with a hint of your signature perfume that makes him feel like heâs home. Sunlight streaming through your window, the lighting hitting your face perfectly. Heâs leaning on your doorframe, head tilted, just watching for a few seconds.
âBaby.â
You jump a little at the sound of his voice snapping you out of the slight daze you were in. He watches as your eyes flicker up to his, how your facial expression softens at the sight of him.
âYou scared me Kuna, how long have you been standing there?â
âNot long.â
He answered, trudging over to where you sitting. He leaned down, his head resting on your shoulder with a heavy sigh, muscular arms snaking around your waist.
âRough practice?â
Your hands moved from separating your curls to massaging his face, trying to get his face to relax. It was like he had a permanent scowl etched on his face, mostly just because he was stressed.
âMhm, coach was on my ass and that blue eyed freak was ball hogging the whole fucking time.â
He grumbled turning his face in the crook of your neck peppering kisses along your neck to your face causing you to squirm and giggle.
âKuna go shower, youâre all musty and stinky.â
You urged pushing his face away causing him to furrow his eyebrows feigning hurt.
âI canât love on my girl?âÂ
You rolled your eyes going back to carefully separating the spirals in your hair.
âNot while youâre musty. Go shower baby I promise itâll make you feel better.â
He groans like heâs irritated mumbling under his breath but the hot steaming water was very enticing after the tough practice he just had. Plus your shower had the perfect water pressure and he was going to use your good shampoo and conditioner despite having his own products for whenever he was over your place which was basically all the time.
âFine.â
He stalks over to your bathroom, you hear the water turn and an exhale leaves his lips.Â
When you made your relationship with Sukuna public it caused shock around campus. To most people it made no sense, your aesthetics and personalityâs were complete opposites, how could someone so quiet be with someone so loud? Sukuna thrived in the spotlight, he lived in the bright lights and deafening music. The never ending partyâs that started in the dead of night and didnât end till early morning. The burn of alcohol down his throat, smoke that curled around him temporarily blinding him from his responsibilities and problems. The sorority girls and cheerleaders he ended up in toxic ass relationships with. The screams and chants from the crowd from the stadium, he used to fien for that lifestyle. He chased after it like air because to Sukuna thatâs all he ever knew. Since a young age his life has been full of never ending noise, one thing after another, for a long time he avoided the hush of the quiet because it was uncomfortable to him.
Yet when you came into his life, itâs like he put on glasses, yet he canât tell if everythingâs blurry or clear. You showed him that the quiet can be tranquil and comforting, not something to be scared of. Your soft smile and honeyed voice is what gets him through the day. He craves your attention and affection, the love he has for you genuinely scares him sometimes because heâd quite literally kill for you. Youâve got him wrapped around your pretty finger without even realizing it. Youâve taught him so much about himself simply by being who you are and allowing him in your life. He no longer spends his free time at parties his frat brothers hosts, he only goes when heâs required to show up for some event. When he goes he brings you along if you felt like going out that night. He started cutting back on the cigarettes and other stuff heâd normally get from choso. You mentioned how you hated the smell of cigarettes once and he just started to stop. He would occasionally light up a blunt if he was really stressed out but nothing crazy.Â
Because you were more to yourself by nature, people often got the misconception that you were either mean, stuck up, or shy. In which none of those cases are true. Sukuna never rushed you when you were speaking, he never forced a conversation or small talk. Sukuna didnât treat your silence like an obstacle he had to force out of you. Nor did he take your quietness personal. He didnât treat you based off the stereotypes people would place on you by default. He let you be yourself without feeling like you have to put on a character for somebody else.
Overtime you slowly started showing more parts of yourself to him and he was able to feel a sense of security and peace simply by being in your presence. You started to joke around and be more playful, you shared thoughts youâd normally just keep to yourself. Sukuna remembers the first time you FaceTimed him on your own accord. He answered your call halfway through the first ring, his heart beating in his ears. You were laying down on your stomach in your bed, a pink throw pillow halfway hiding your smile at how fast he answered the phone.
Sukuna steps out of the shower his hair damp, water droplets dripping on his forehead. He changes into some sweatpants and is too tired to bother with a shirt. He makes his way to the kitchen since you werenât in your room like before. Youâre standing at the counter looking like a Disney princess while making him a plate of food you made earlier. Youâre still in your pink robe, your hair fluffed out and all bouncy. For someone as big as Sukuna he had the most silent footsteps. He comes up behind you, your back hitting his hard chest. His hands rub up and down your sides occasionally massaging the plush flesh of your ass before settling on your wide hips.
âFeel better?â
You ask softly turning around to face him holding out the plate to him.Â
âMhm.â
He hums looking down at you with half lidded eyes. He takes the plate out of your hands only to set it back down on the counter top. His hands block you in as he continues where he left off showering you with kisses. Within a year youâve managed to turn the Ryomen Sukuna who picks fights every where he went and partied like no tomorrow into a mushy soft hearted man who is severely in love with his beautiful girlfriend.
He kisses you along your jaw, your cheeks then on your forehead and finally a slow but sweet kiss to your lips. He finally pulled away a little breathless as he looked at you like you hung the moon.
âMissed your pretty face.â
He muttered his calloused hands gently coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek.
âYou saw me this morning Ryo.â
âStill too fuckin long.â
The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on the couch engulfed in blankets. You tucked by his side, his arm thrown around your shoulder pulling you closer. Whatever movie you two picked for the night playing on the tv casting light across both of your faces.Rain pattering against the floor to ceiling window like background noise. With you everything seemed to fade in the background, all his problems seemed irrelevant. Being able to come home to you was a blessing he didnât know what he did to deserve.
A/n this was way longer than I intended also I suck at dialogue.
wc: 17k || art creds: @/winterrbluess @/su2kuna || 18+
frat!sukuna x shy!nerd!reader
A/N lowk this fic is much more toned down compared to what i usually post but fuck it we ball it's cute
summary ! sukuna doesn't give a shit about chemistry, that is until the big red 8% on his last test threatens to get him kicked out of his frat. desperate, he turns to the only person who can save him: you, the adorable, shy girl who aces every quiz. you agree to help, but only if he helps you get the attention of your hallway crush, his best friend, toji. what starts as a deal between you slowly turns into a spiral of love and jealousy. (18+, fluff, slight toji x reader (?), no angst for once omg go me)
the big red number stares back at him from the top of the paper like a brand burned into his pride. 8%.
sukuna exhales through his nose, the sound rough, annoyed. the paper crumples in his hand before he tosses it onto the desk. he leans back in his chair, the metal legs creaking under his weight as his jaw works.
normally, he wouldnât give a damn about a grade. itâs not like chemistry was ever something he cared about. but this time, itâs different. one more fail and heâs out. the frat has rules, grades too low and youâre done. and he knows exactly whatâll happen if that happens.
tojis smug laugh. satoruâs endless teasing. the guys calling him âbrain-deadâ for weeks. no more parties. no more sorority hoes. no more lazy afternoons drinking on the porch with his friends.
he runs a hand down his face, dragging his fingers over the faint scar under his eye and the sharp tatted lines on his cut face. he canât let that happen.
at the front of the room, their professor is rambling about averages and assessment weightings, something about the next major project. sukuna tunes back in when he hears the words âsixty percentâ and âpartner work.â that catches his attention.
the next gruelling assessment is a two-month long research investigation worth sixty percent of their final grade.
he was on the verge of strangling himself to death or jumping out of the top story window when he realised.
thatâs it.
thatâs his way out. he just needs a smart partner who can carry his hopeless ass.
sukunaâs eyes sweep across the room, scanning for anyone who looks like they know what the hell theyâre doing. most of the people he usually talks to in class are as useless as he is, too busy flirting or sleeping through lectures.
but then his gaze catches on someone sitting right up the front.
you.
the quiet girl with the tidy notes and the neat handwriting, the one who always answers when the professor asks a question no one else dares to.
youâre sitting there now, head slightly tilted as you jot something down, your pen gliding across the page with that easy confidence of someone who actually understands this shit.
youâve always sat alone, tucked near the window. you never talk during lectures unless you have to, and even then your voice is small, hesitant. you wear oversized sweaters, keep your hair pinned up, and avoid eye contact with anyone who looks remotely like they belong to his world.
still, heâs noticed you before. everyone has. itâs hard not to. youâre the kind of girl that seems untouchable, not because youâre trying to be, but because youâre so far removed from everything he knows. soft, focused, real sweet.
and right now, you look like salvation.
he pushes up from his seat, ignoring the curious glances from a few classmates as he moves down the aisle. his tall frame blocks the light for a second when he stops beside your desk. you glance up, startled, your pen pausing mid-sentence.
"yo, my names sukuna. and you?"
"uh, hi? it's y/n." he smirks at your shy response, but continues.
âyouâre like, a chem genius, right?â his tone is low, rough with disinterest, though his eyes linger on you a little too long.
you blink up at him, hesitant. âoh, um⊠i guess? why?â
âi need a partner, like, real bad,â he says, dropping the failed exam onto your desk with a dull slap. the red ink almost glows. âi'm gonna be honest, i completely fucked myself with this last exam. i canât afford to fail again.â
you stare at the paper, then at him. up close, heâs intimidating. messy pink hair, dark eyes sharp and unreadable, tattoos trailing up his arms, his face, and peeking out from under his shirt collar.
he looks nothing like someone whoâd ever ask for help, especially from you, and the fact that heâs doing it now makes your mind reel.
âi- look, don't take this the wrong way, but... theres a lot of people in this class,â you manage softly. âwhy pick me?â
he shrugs, leaning one hand on the desk beside your notes. âbecause you actually know what youâre doing. and iâm not looking to get stuck with some idiot whoâll drag me down, i'm already so fucking cooked."
you hesitate, glancing away. youâve never really talked to him before. actually, youâve barely even noticed him beyond the times youâve seen him walking across campus with toji. thatâs usually when your stomach does that stupid fluttering thing. watching toji laugh, his arm slung lazily around sukunaâs shoulders, both of them looking like they own the place.
itâs strange seeing one of them standing here now, asking you for help.
you fidget with your pen. âthat's fine, sure. but⊠if weâre partners, wed have to split the workload.â
"yeah,â he says. âi can pull my weight, don't stress it, sweetheart. mostly just need someone to keep me from bombing it.â
itâs almost funny. heâs trying to sound casual, but something about the way heâs watching you feels uncharacteristically careful. like heâs actually waiting for your answer rather than being the overbearing dick he usually is.
maybe itâs because youâre cute. or maybe itâs because he knows you hold his fate in your small, nervous hands.
you chew your lip for a moment, then nod. âyeah, okay. iâll help you out.â
his mouth tilts in a grin thatâs half smug, half genuine relief. âgood. 'preciate it, babe.â
you look down instantly, pretending to organize your papers so he doesnât see the way your face warms. you weren't used to such casual name calling.
he drags a chair over from the next row and drops into it beside you, leaning back like heâs been sitting there all semester.
the professorâs voice fades into the background again as you stare straight ahead, trying to focus on anything but the fact that sukuna ryomen, the most notorious guy in beta tau, is now your project partner.
a few minutes pass in silence. the lecture drags on, your notes filling another page. but your mindâs racing the whole time. sukuna, meanwhile, canât stop sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye.
he hadnât expected you to actually agree. and he definitely hadnât expected to find himself curious about you. youâre so⊠different. not the kind of girl who shows up to parties. not someone who flirts back when he smirks at her. just quiet and sweet, head buried in your work, the type that shouldnât even be in his orbit.
and yet here you are.
when the professor dismisses the class, people start packing up. you hesitate, fingers tightening around your pen. then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn to him.
âhey⊠sukuna?â
he hums, eyes flicking toward you lazily. âyeah?â
you look nervous, the words almost tripping over themselves before they leave your mouth. cute. âiâll help you pass. but⊠can you help me out with something too?â
his brow arches. âhmm. depends what it is.â
you take a quiet breath. âitâs about your friend. uh.. toji.â
that gets his attention. his posture stiffens a little. âwhat about him?â
you look down at your notebook, like itâs safer than looking at him. âi just⊠i think heâs really attractive. and he looks nice. i know itâs kind of stupid but i was wondering if maybe... you could help me get him to notice me.â
for a second, sukuna just stares at you.
out of all the things he expected you to say, that wasnât it.
you, the shy little thing sitting up front, blushing and tripping over her own words, want toji fushiguro. one of the biggest assholes on campus. his best friend, sure, but a guy who barely remembers girlsâ names after he sleeps with them.
he leans back slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. âyouâre serious?â
you nod, eyes still fixed on your notebook.
he studies you for a long moment. youâre fidgeting again, twisting your pen between your fingers, your voice so soft he almost misses it. âyou donât have to if itâs weird, i just thought⊠you two are close, so maybeâŠâ
sukuna exhales through his nose. part of him wants to tell you itâs a bad idea. that toji doesnât deserve someone like you. that youâd get hurt trying to chase a guy like that.
but he doesnât.
instead, he tilts his head and says, âyeah, fine. iâll help you out.â
your head snaps up, eyes wide. âhuh? really?â
âyeah. but only because youâre saving my ass with this project,â he says, smirking a little. âguess weâll call it even.â
you smile, small, bright, genuine, and something tightens in his chest.
you're so cute.
âthank you,â you say quietly.
he grins again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. âdonât mention it, honey.â
and as you pack up your notes, he watches you go, already trying to ignore the strange feeling crawling up the back of his neck.
he tells himself itâs just a deal. a trade. nothing more.
but as you disappear out the door, he canât shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, heâs gotten himself into more trouble than he realises.
~
music blasts through the frat, heavy bass shaking the walls, bodies moving in rhythm across the living room floor. someoneâs yelling over the noise, someone else is laughing too loud.
the air smells like bad beer, smoke, and sweat, the classic friday night cocktail that means beta tau is alive and wild again.
sukuna leans against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, watching a game of beer pong play out in front of him. the noise is deafening, but itâs a familiar kind of chaos. tojiâs across the table, grin sharp as he sinks another ping-pong ball into the last cup.
âhell yeah,â toji shouts, hands raised. âthatâs another win for me, baby!â
someone hands him another drink, and he downs it in one go, slamming the cup down as the room cheers. toji fushiguro lives for this kind of night, beer, bets, and easy company. sukunaâs used to it, the routine almost comforting.
he joins the next round, barely losing after a stupid bounce, then lets himself collapse onto the sagging couch beside toji. the musicâs pounding through the walls, but the corner theyâre in feels quieter, almost like the noise fades around them.
toji stretches out, arm slung over the back of the couch, shirt sticking to his skin. âyouâre slipping, man,â he says, smirking at sukuna. âused to be able to hold your own in beer pong.â
âfuck up,â sukuna mutters, head tipped back, eyes half-lidded. âthat last shot was rigged.â
ârigged?â toji laughs, deep and unrestrained. âyouâre just rusty.â
sukuna grunts, tossing his empty cup onto the coffee table. his headâs buzzing, not from the alcohol, just from thoughts, mostly the image of you, the way you looked earlier in class, keeps floating up uninvited. you sitting at the front of the room, your careful handwriting, the little way youâd fidget with your pen when you were nervous.
he doesnât even realize heâs been quiet until toji elbows him. âyo, whatâs got you zoning out?â
sukuna runs his tongue over his teeth, deciding. screw it. âyou ever heard of someone named y/n?â
toji raises a brow, blinking like he didnât catch that over the noise. âwho?â
ây/n,â sukuna repeats.
toji shakes his head, lips quirking. ânah. that some new chick youâre banging?â
sukuna sputters, choking on air. âwhat? no. iâm not-â he cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. great. smooth start.
tojiâs smirk widens. âcome on, man. donât get shy on me. youâre stuttering like some freshman.â
âshut up,â sukuna mutters, glaring at him. âitâs not like that.â
âthen whatâs it like?â
he hesitates, watching the light flicker off the beer bottles on the table. thereâs no way to explain it without sounding weird. heâs not even sure why heâs bringing you up at all, except that he made a promise, and now heâs gotta start somewhere.
âsheâs just⊠in my chem class,â he finally says. âsmart as hell. the kind that actually knows what sheâs doing, yâknow?â
toji snorts. âso, a nerd.â
âyeah,â sukuna says, ignoring the way toji says it like itâs an insult. âbut, like⊠cute. shy, quiet, nice, i guess.â
tojiâs grin widens. âbro. youâre seriously telling me about a crush right now? what the hell happened to you?â
âitâs not a crush,â sukuna says quickly, though his voice comes out sharper than he means. âsheâs just..â he stops, running a hand through his hair. âsheâs helping me with chem, okay? and i told her iâd help her with something too.â
âwhat, she want free alcs?â toji laughs.
âno.â sukuna exhales through his nose. âshe wants you.â
that earns him a pause. toji tilts his head, eyes narrowing like heâs trying to decide if he misheard. âme?â
âyeah.â
âas in⊠she wants to, what, date me?â
âbasically.â
tojiâs silent for a moment, then he breaks into a bark of laughter so loud it turns a few heads. âyouâre kidding, right? some shy nerdy girl wants me?â he grins, tapping his chest. âguess sheâs got good taste.â
sukuna grits his teeth. âdonât be an ass about it.â
âwhat? iâm not being an ass,â toji says, still smirking. âjust saying, thatâs not really my type, man. i like girls who can actually keep up, yâknow?â
âyeah, i know,â sukuna mutters. âthatâs kinda the problem.â
âproblem?â
sukuna leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping low. âlook, sheâs⊠sheâs sweet. like, actually sweet. the kind of girl that probably still says âsorryâ even when someone bumps into her first. youâd break her in half.â
toji shrugs, unbothered. âthen maybe she shouldnât be into me.â
âshe doesnât even know you,â sukuna says, frustration creeping into his tone. âshe just saw you around. thinks youâre⊠i donât know. hot and nice.â
âha,â toji barks out a laugh, finishing his drink. âthen sheâs definitely got the wrong idea.â
sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. this was going nowhere.
he tries again, his tone careful. âi just figured maybe you could give her a chance. sheâs not like the other girls you mess with. sheâsâŠâ he hesitates, searching for the right word. âdifferent. the kind youâd actually like if you gave her five minutes.â
toji side-eyes him, clearly amused. âyou trying to sell me a girlfriend or something? whatâs in it for you?â
sukunaâs jaw tightens. ânothing. i told her iâd help her out, thatâs all.â
toji grins, eyes glinting. âyou sure about that? you sound kinda like you wanna keep her for yourself.â
sukunaâs silent for a beat, his pulse ticking faster than it should. âi donât.â
âright. and iâm the pope.â toji laughs, leaning back. âare you high? tellinâ me about how cute and shy she is⊠just fuck her and move on, bro. no need for all this emotional shit.â
sukuna drags a hand down his face, groaning. âi wish i was fucking high. jesus, youâre impossible.â
the music gets louder again, another chant rising from the kitchen as someone calls for shots. toji stands, stretching, grinning down at him. âcome on, man. stop thinking so hard. letâs go get wasted.â
sukuna waves him off. ânah, iâm good. go ahead.â
toji shrugs and disappears into the crowd. sukuna sinks further into the couch, head tipping back, letting the noise drown out the frustration burning in his chest.
this was going to be a nightmare.
.
the next morning, the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall feel like punishment. the air smells like stale coffee and paper, and the chatter around the room grates on his nerves. sukuna slouches into his seat, sunglasses hiding the exhaustion clinging to him.
youâre already there, of course. neat stack of papers beside your laptop, pen in hand, posture perfect. you glance up as he approaches, offering a small smile.
âmorning,â you say softly.
âhey,â he mutters, sliding into the seat next to you.
the teacher doesnât waste time, telling everyone to start working on their projects. pairs scatter across the room, some staying behind, others leaving for the library. you glance at sukuna, uncertain.
âshould weâŠ?â
âyeah, library,â he says before you can finish. âless noise.â
you nod quickly, tucking your notes under your arm as you follow him out.
the walkâs quiet. you keep close but not too close, fingers gripping the strap of your bag. sukuna glances at you once or twice as you walk, the sunlight catching the edge of your hair. thereâs something weirdly calming about you, like your presence forces the chaos in his head to settle for a bit.
when you reach the campus library, you pick a small table near the back, away from the groups of whispering students. the morning light filters through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air. itâs quiet enough that every turn of a page feels loud.
you sit across from him, pulling your laptop from your bag. âum, before we start, maybe we should exchange contact info?â
he nods, pulling out his phone. âyeah. what's ya' number?â
you rattle it off, and he types it in. his phone pings a second later when you text him, and he adds your contact with a lazy swipe. then you both exchange social media.
you open your instagram to show him, but heâs already found it. your accountâs small. cozy, soft colors, pictures of coffee cups, notes, and the occasional selfie that looks like you were trying not to take one.
then you look at his. thousands of followers, stories from parties, shirtless gym photos, snapshots of him and toji grinning like idiots with red cups in hand.
you blink, then smile politely. âours are⊠really different.â
he huffs out a quiet laugh. âyeah. just a little.â
he doesnât tell you that he finds it kind of adorable, how small and peaceful your corner of the internet looks compared to his chaos.
you both settle in to start discussing the project, papers spread between you. you talk about ideas, your voice growing steadier as you get into the topic. you explain concepts easily, your hands moving as you describe how you could structure the research, how to divide the work.
he listens. or tries to. mostly, heâs just watching the way you light up when you talk about something you love.
after a while, you pause, glancing at him with a small, hopeful look. âdid you⊠talk to toji?â
he freezes for a fraction of a second, mind flashing back to last night. the laughter, the teasing, the absolute disaster of that conversation.
âyeah,â he says after a moment, forcing a smile. âi did.â
your eyes widen, curious. âwhatâd he say?â
he hesitates. youâre looking at him so earnestly, waiting for an answer, and he canât bring himself to tell you that toji laughed it off, that heâd said something crude about just sleeping with you and moving on.
so he lies.
âhe seemed interested,â sukuna says smoothly. âasked who you were. said you sounded cute.â
you go still for a moment, then your cheeks flush, and you duck your head. âreally?â
âyeah,â he says, leaning back in his chair. âtold him you were smart, nice. he said thatâs rare.â
your shy smile makes his chest tighten in a way he doesnât understand.
âthatâs⊠really nice of you, sukuna,â you say softly. âthanks.â
he shrugs, forcing a grin. âtold you iâd help.â
but as you turn back to your notes, still smiling faintly to yourself, he canât look away. he doesnât know whatâs worse, the way lying to you actually hurts his heart, or the way part of himâs starting to wish that toji never finds out who you are.
because the thought of you smiling like that at anyone else makes his stomach twist.
~
the frat house is quieter than usual when sukuna pushes the door open.
no bass pounding through the walls, no laughter echoing down the hallway, no beer pong table clattering in the kitchen. just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant muffled sound of someoneâs tv from another room.
itâs strange. unsettling, almost. heâs gotten used to the constant noise, the never ending roar of people that filled the house from dusk till dawn.
he kicks off his shoes at the door, shoulders rolling back as he heads for the stairs. his head still feels heavy from the long day, the faint scent of your shampoo stuck in his memory.
itâs weird? heâs been around a thousand girls, maybe more. girls who practically threw themselves at him, who laughed too loud at his jokes and leaned in too close.
but somehow, you, sitting across from him with that shy smile and your soft voice explaining inter molecular relationship, manage to stick in his head longer than any of them ever have.
his roomâs dark when he steps inside, save for the light bleeding in from the street through the blinds. he tosses his keys onto the desk and falls back onto his bed, exhaling. the ceiling stares back blankly.
he doesnât even mean to grab his phone, but his hand moves before he can think. he unlocks it, thumb hovering over instagram.
just checking something, he tells himself.
his fingers type your username into the search bar without hesitation.
your profile opens instantly.
the same cozy layout he remembered. a few new story highlights. your bio, something simple, maybe a quote or a flower emoji. his thumb scrolls down slowly, eyes following the grid of neatly arranged photos. you, a few landscapes, coffee cups, snippets of sunlight through your window, a cat that might not even be yours.
he stops when he sees a picture from about a month ago.
youâre holding a tiny puppy in your arms, your face caught mid laugh, like someone had said something funny right before snapping the picture. the puppyâs paw rests against your chest, nose tucked near your chin. in your other hand, youâre holding a paper cup of coffee, a little swirl of foam peeking through the lid.
he stares at it for longer than he should.
itâs just a photo, nothing special, but something about it hits him hard . the little details, the way your fingers hold gently under the puppyâs paw, the sunlight catching on the curve of your cheek, the way your smile looks completely unposed.
he catches himself wondering stupid things.
was that your dog? probably not. maybe a friendâs. or some random one you met at a cafe.
was the coffee yours? it looks like something youâd order, something simple. maybe vanilla, maybe something with caramel.
where was that taken? some small corner cafe? a weekend morning somewhere quiet?
he doesnât know. and that bothers him more than it should.
his thumb hovers over the photo for a second before he double taps it. the little red heart fills in on the corner of the screen.
great. now youâre going to see that he liked a post from a month ago. real smooth.
he tosses his phone onto the bed beside him, covering his face with his hands.
âwhat the fuck am i doing,â he mutters.
heâs never been that guy. the one who scrolls through a girlâs profile like heâs studying for an exam. the one who cares enough to wonder what her favorite coffee order is, or if she likes dogs or cats more. he doesnât ask those questions. he doesnât want to ask those questions.
but he canât stop himself.
he scrolls again, back up to your most recent post, another candid shot, youâre wearing one of those oversized sweaters you always seem to wear to class, sleeves pulled over your wrists.
you look peaceful. and sweet. and so painfully far from the world he lives in.
his throat tightens unexpectedly, he looks deeper, really looks at you.
youâre really fucking pretty.
heâd always known that. heâd noticed, sure, heâs not blind. the first day youâd agreed to work with him, heâd thought you were cute. adorable, even. but now, staring at your pictures, seeing the small glimpses of your life beyond those chemistry notes and shy smiles, he realizes itâs more than that.
youâre beautiful.
and that realization sits heavy in his chest, thick and uncomfortable.
because he knows exactly where this is supposed to go.
he still owes you. he still promised you something.
toji.
the thought of his friendâs name makes him exhale hard through his nose.
he can already picture it. if he brings you up again, toji will laugh the same way he always does. say something crude. maybe shrug and agree to meet you, just for the hell of it. and maybe youâd smile that soft, nervous smile at him, and maybe youâd fall for him harder than you already have.
and that image, that thought? makes sukunaâs jaw clench.
he shakes his head, forcing the phone screen off.
âget a grip,â he mutters, rolling onto his side.
but itâs no use. even as he closes his eyes, the image of you laughing with that puppy burns into the back of his mind.
~
two weeks pass withf lectures and late-night text exchanges about project deadlines.
youâve met up three times since that first day at the library. each time, sukunaâs noticed small things. how you seem to relax around him more, how youâve started teasing him lightly when he messes up an equation, how your laugh sounds quiet but genuine when he actually manages to make you smile.
and now, on the fourth meeting, he finds himself heading to the library again, trying to ignore the way his stomach feels weirdly tight.
youâre already there when he walks in.
same table. same corner near the back.
but this time, somethingâs different.
youâre standing by your seat, waving slightly when you see him. and in your hands, youâre holding two cups of coffee.
âhey,â you say, your voice bright and clear in a way that makes him pause.
he blinks, momentarily thrown off by how cheerful you sound. âhey,â he replies, trying to sound as casual as usual.
you hold out one of the cups toward him. âi, um, got this for you. black coffee, right?â
for a second, he just stares.
itâs stupid. itâs a coffee cup. but his mind stutters anyway.
âyeah,â he says, voice quieter than he means it to be. âyeah, thatâs right.â
âi wasnât sure how you take it,â you admit with a small laugh. âyou seem like the kind of person who drinks it straight. no sugar, no milk.â
he huffs out a small laugh, taking the cup from you. âyou got that right.â
âlucky guess.â
you sit down, cheeks faintly pink. he watches you for a second longer than necessary before clearing his throat and dropping into the chair across from you.
âthanks,â he says finally, lifting the cup slightly. âfor the coffee.â
you smile, soft and genuine. âyouâve been helping me a lot with this, so i thought it was the least i could do.â
he wants to tell you that youâve got it backwards, that youâre the one keeping him afloat, not the other way around, but he bites his tongue.
instead, he takes a sip, the bitter taste grounding him.
âyou didnât have to, y'know.â
âi wanted to,â you say, eyes flicking down to your notes.
and for a brief second, he feels his pulse skip.
you wanted to.
he tries to shake the feeling, pulling out his own notes. âalright, so. whatâs the plan for today?â
you talk about the experiment data, what needs to be written up, the references you still have to gather. he listens, but part of himâs distracted.
itâs the way youâre talking now, louder, lighter. youâre not tripping over your words anymore. youâre not afraid to meet his eyes. the shy girl who could barely look at him two weeks ago is now smiling at him between sentences.
and fuck if that doesnât make something twist in his chest.
as the minutes pass, the project talk starts to blur into something else. heâs the one who changes the subject first.
âso,â he says, leaning back slightly. âwhatâs with you and coffee? every time i see you, youâve got one.â
you look up from your laptop, blinking. âi just like it, i guess. i go to this little place near campus almost every morning before class.â
âthe one with the green sign?â
âyeah, that one.â
âfigured.â
you laugh quietly. âyou go there too?â
âsometimes,â he says. âafter workouts. theyâve got good espresso.â
you tilt your head. âyou work out every morning?â
âalmost,â he says, smirking faintly. âgotta keep my sexy frat guy aura in tact.â
âoh, right,â you tease, eyes glinting a little. âwouldnât want to disappoint your fans.â
he blinks, caught off guard. âfans?â
âyour instagram,â you say, trying not to laugh. âyouâve got, like, a thousand girls following you. i saw.â
he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. âdonât remind me.â
âwhy?â
âbecause half of them donât even go to this school,â he says, grinning a little. âthey just⊠show up.â
you laugh, the sound soft but real, and he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.
after that, the conversation drifts. you talk about random things. your classes, your favorite kind of music, the dog from your photo (âthatâs my friendâs puppy,â you explain. âheâs named mochi.â).
sukuna finds himself asking questions, more than heâs ever asked anyone before. not just because he wants to fill the silence, but because he genuinely wants to know.
you tell him about your hobbies, your part tme job at the campus bookstore, how youâre saving up for a trip after graduation.
he listens. really listens.
and for every small thing you share, he feels himself drawn in deeper.
when the session finally ends, the clock showing that two hours have slipped by without either of you noticing, you start packing up your things.
âsame time next week?â you ask, glancing up.
âyeah,â he says. âsame spot.â
you smile again, that soft, shy one that makes his chest ache.
and as you wave goodbye and walk out of the library, sukuna stays seated for a moment, staring at the empty chair across from him.
he should be thinking about the project. about grades. about keeping his promise to you.
but all he can think about is how the smell of coffee still lingers faintly on his fingers and how, somehow, thatâs become his favorite part of the day.
~
the frat house always feels heavy on monday mornings. air thick with the smell of stale beer and cheap cologne, empty red cups scattered on tables like small grave markers from the weekend before. sukuna drags himself through the hallway, towel hanging around his neck, hair still damp from a quick shower.
tojiâs already waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a protein shake in one hand and his phone in the other. he looks up when sukuna walks in, flashing that familiar cocky grin.
âyo, you down to hit the gym?â
sukuna doesnât even hesitate. âfor sure.â
mondays are brutal, but skipping a session isnât an option. not when youâve got someone like toji keeping score. they finish off their drinks, grab their bags, and head out.
the campus is still quiet. early morning sun stretches across the pavement, birds chirping somewhere above. their sneakers hit the concrete in sync.
âbro, did you see the game last night?â toji asks, tossing a smirk his way.
âyeah,â sukuna mutters. âyou owe me twenty.â
toji groans. âbullshit. that last call was garbage.â
âstill counts.â
they go back and forth for a while typical talk. girls, workouts, who pulled who at the last party. tojiâs loud, animated, the kind of guy who fills silence with his own voice. sukuna listens, laughs when he should, but half his mindâs somewhere else.
theyâre cutting across the main quad when he spots you.
youâre walking toward one of the lecture halls, tote bag slung over your shoulder, hair catching the light in a way that makes his breath hitch.
youâre wearing something simple. a cute shirt and nice jeans, your hands wrapped around a coffee cup, but somehow it makes you stand out more than anyone else on the path.
you donât see him, too focused on your phone, but his chest tightens anyway.
for a second, itâs like the rest of the campus fades away.
then he remembers whoâs walking beside him.
tojiâs still talking about some girl he hooked up with over the weekend, words fading into the background as sukunaâs jaw tightens. he forces his eyes away, tells himself to stop being weird. this is stupid. youâre just his lab partner.
except heâs not supposed to be thinking about how good you look in the morning light. heâs supposed to be thinking about the deal.
the one with toji.
his throat feels dry as he forces himself to speak.
âhey,â he says suddenly. âyou remember that girl i was talking about the other night?â
toji glances over, raising a brow. âthe chem one?â
âyeah. thatâs her.â
he nods toward you before he can second-guess it.
toji slows immediately, his attention shifting in your direction. youâre still walking across the path, the sunlight brushing over your face as you look up for a moment, squinting.
sukuna watches as toji literally stops in his tracks.
âholy shit.â tojiâs grin spreads, sharp and impressed. âyou didnât tell me she was that cute.â
sukuna doesnât respond. he just keeps walking, pretending to be unfazed, but every word toji says feels like itâs digging deeper under his skin.
âseriously, bro,â toji continues, still staring after you even as you disappear into the building. âyou made her sound like some dorky little nerd. i was picturing ugly glasses, messy bun, the whole thing. but sheâs, damn. sheâs adorable.â
sukunaâs stomach twists. he forces a smirk, because thatâs whatâs expected. âyeah, sheâs not bad.â
ânot bad?â toji laughs, clapping a hand to his shoulder. âsheâs gorgeous. you holding out on me, man?â
ânah,â sukuna says quickly. âjust didnât think youâd be into that type.â
âwhat type?â
âthe smart, quiet type,â he says, voice flat. âthought you liked girls who could âkeep up,â remember?â
toji scoffs. âyeah, well, sheâs too cute to pass up. shit, you should let me tag along next time youâre studying with her. see what sheâs like up close.â
sukuna forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. âyeah, sure. whatever.â
inside, heâs cringing so hard he feels sick.
they head into the gym, the sound of clanging weights filling the space. he tries to focus on the burn in his muscles, the rhythm of his breathing but his thoughts wonât shut up. tojiâs words keep echoing. sheâs adorable. sheâs gorgeous. you holding out on me?
this was what he was supposed to do. this was the plan. introduce you to toji, let things fall into place, make good on his end of the deal.
so why does it feel so wrong?
~
the next study session comes faster than he expects.
the dayâs overcast, the library quiet except for the soft hush of the air conditioning. youâre already there when he walks in, sitting in your usual spot by the window, books neatly stacked, pen tapping absently against your notebook.
you look up when you hear his voice.
âhey,â he says, slipping through the aisles toward you.
your face brightens instantly, that small, warm smile tugging at your lips.
âhi,â you say, already starting to greet him.
then your voice falters.
because right behind him, towering and broad-shouldered, is toji.
your words die halfway out of your throat, eyes going wide. heâs impossible to ignore, dark hair, sharp grin, that easy confidence that radiates from him like static.
sukuna can see the exact moment you freeze. your fingers grip your pen a little too tightly, your posture going stiff.
âthis is toji,â sukuna says, trying to sound casual. âhe wanted to tag along today.â
âhey,â toji says smoothly, pulling up a chair without asking. ânice to meet you, y/n.â
you nod, cheeks pink. âh-hi.â
itâs awkward from the start. painfully so.
sukuna tries to start things off, opening his notebook and asking about the data you collected last week, but tojiâs already jumping in with his own questions, none of them relevant.
âso,â toji leans forward, elbows on the table. âyouâre really good at this chem stuff, huh? always been a little nerd?â
you laugh nervously, eyes flicking between the two of them. âi⊠guess so?â
âyeah, i could never,â he says, shaking his head. âi barely passed last year. too many parties, you know how it is.â
you nod politely, but the look on your face says it all, you have no idea what to say.
sukuna grits his teeth.
toji keeps going, oblivious. he talks about the last frat party, about the time he benched two hundred in front of half the football team, about some girl who texted him last night. you just sit there, smiling faintly, giving small nods and quiet hums of agreement.
itâs brutal.
every word toji says feels like a slow car crash sukuna canât stop. he knows he shouldâve expected this. this was always how toji was but now that itâs happening in front of you, he canât stand it.
youâre sitting there, trying so hard to be polite, cheeks flushed, fingers fidgeting with your sleeve. and for the first time, sukuna hates how loud the other guy is. hates how heâs filling the space thatâs always felt quiet and easy with you.
after what feels like forever, tojiâs phone buzzes. he glances down, reads the message, and stands up.
âgotta head out,â he says, smirking. âgood luck with your project, sweetheart. maybe iâll swing by next time, yeah?â
before you can respond, he gives you a wink.
you freeze again, murmuring something that barely sounds like a goodbye.
he leaves, whistling under his breath, completely unaware of how painfully awkward that was.
the second heâs out of sight, sukuna exhales hard and runs a hand through his hair.
âfuck,â he mutters. âsorry about that.â
your eyes widen a little. âoh, um, itâs fine.â
âno, seriously,â he says, glancing at you. âi shouldâve told you i was bringing him.â
you hesitate, then smile, shy but real. âitâs okay. i was just⊠nervous, i guess.â
he tilts his head. âwhy?â
you look down at your notes. âheâs just⊠kind of intense. i didnât expect that.â
âyeah,â he says quietly. âheâs like that.â
the silence that follows isnât awkward, though. itâs calm. steady.
youâre visibly more relaxed now, shoulders no longer so tight, your voice softer when you start talking again. sukuna listens, his chest loosening with every word.
you donât mention toji again.
and he doesnât either.
for the rest of the session, itâs just the two of you again. back to the easy rhythm he didnât realize heâd missed until it was gone. you explain a reaction mechanism, he teases you about your handwriting, you roll your eyes and laugh.
when itâs time to leave, you pack up your things slowly, almost like you donât want the moment to end.
âsee you next week?â you ask.
âyeah,â he says, smiling faintly. ânext week.â
you give a small wave, and as you walk out, sukuna watches you disappear between the shelves, that same quiet warmth settling in his chest.
he should feel relieved, he did what he was supposed to. he introduced you to toji. he followed through.
but instead, he just feels like heâs made a mistake.
because the whole walk back to the frat, the only thing running through his head isnât how toji couldnât shut up or how awkward the whole thing was.
itâs how your voice had softened when you told him it was fine. how your eyes met his, even for a second, and he felt that stupid little spark again.
he doesnât know what to call it. doesnât want to.
but deep down, he knows one thing for sure.
the next time you two meet, heâs showing up alone, keeping you to himself.
~
music pounds through sukuna's chest, pulsing out of the open doors of the sorority like a heartbeat on overdrive. laughter spills down the steps, mixed with the sharp scent of alcohol and perfume and that sticky-sweet haze that always clings to these kinds of parties.
banners hang crooked above the door, fairy lights tangled like spiderwebs. the sorority girls really went all out.
itâs a mixer. one of those invite only things, where every girl in greek row tries to get noticed by the ârightâ house. and sukunaâs frat, their house, was always the right one. full of grade A hotties like sukuna and toji and successful athletes like gojo and geto.
he spots toji near the entrance, already in his element. white t-shirt, chain glinting at his throat, grin carved sharp enough to cut through the noise. every few seconds, someone calls his name. girls from different sororities, guys from the rugby team, even one of the organizers waving him over.
toji was built for this. sukuna knew it. hell, everyone did.
âabout time, man,â toji says when sukuna steps up beside him. âthought youâd bailed.â
ânah,â sukuna mutters. âjust took my time.â
âyeah, well, tonightâs supposed to be wild. letâs make the most of it.â
they shoulder their way through the crowd, music pounding overhead, the smell of beer and sweat and too much perfume thick in the air. sticking together like usual.
a few girls call out sukunaâs name as they pass, and he just flashes that lazy grin heâs perfected, the one that says heâs not interested, but he might be later.
itâs all automatic now. the smirk, the eye contact, the way his shoulders roll when he laughs. itâs all muscle memory.
but tonight, something feels off.
maybe itâs the way every laugh sounds fake. maybe itâs the way the lights flash too bright, painting everyone in the same plastic color.
maybe itâs because all he can think about is you.
they end up in the kitchen, where the musicâs still loud but not deafening. beer pongâs already set up on the long dining table, cups half-filled, ping-pong balls scattered across the sticky surface.
toji grabs a ball and grins. âletâs go. loser does a shot.â
sukuna smirks, rolling up his sleeves. âyouâre on.â
they start playing, drawing a small crowd of girls who cheer and giggle at every throw. tojiâs competitive as always, talking shit between shots, while sukuna plays quiet and steady. the rhythm feels familiar, the weight of the ball, the sound of it hitting the cup, the way everyone leans in to watch.
after two rounds, theyâre tied. toji wins one, sukuna the other. the girls watching donât seem to care whoâs winning theyâre too focused on the way the two of them look, the easy confidence that comes with knowing the room revolves around them.
and then they descend.
a blonde slides up beside toji, pressing herself against his arm. another girl, brunette this time, drapes herself over sukuna, laughter dripping from her lips like honey.
âyou guys are, like, scary good at this,â she says, voice high and flirty.
âpractice,â sukuna says automatically. his smirk looks real enough. it always does.
her nails trace the edge of his sleeve, and she leans closer. âbet youâre real good at other things too.â
normally, this is the part where heâd lean in, let the moment pull him under. he knows how this goes, shots, dancing, slipping upstairs when the music gets too loud. normally he'd do anything for a quick fuck.
but tonight, it doesnât land.
he looks down at her, at the perfect makeup and glitter around her eyes, and all he can think is how different she is from you.
how youâd never lean on someone like this. how youâd never grab at someone you just met. how when you talked, you actually meant what you said.
his jaw tightens.
tojiâs already got two girls around him, laughing loudly, drink in one hand, the other at someoneâs waist. he looks like heâs having the time of his life. and for the first time, sukuna feels nothing but exhaustion watching it.
the brunette keeps talking something about the psych department, something about a pool party next weekend but her words fade into static.
god, he canât stop thinking about you.
he pictures your small smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when youâre nervous. the way your voice lifts just slightly when you talk about something you love. the way your eyes meet his only for a second before darting away again.
then he thinks about how youâd react if you saw this.
if you saw toji right now, grinning, drunk, hands everywhere.
youâd look crushed. maybe not outwardly, but he knows youâd feel it. he can see that tiny flicker of hurt in his head, your lips pressing together, pretending not to care.
and for some reason, that thought hits him like a punch.
youâd be heartbroken over a guy like toji. and he hates that. hates it enough that his fake smirk starts to slip.
because tojiâs the one you wanted. and tojiâs right there, laughing with some random girl like you never even existed.
it makes his stomach twist.
the brunette leans in closer, her perfume cloying and too strong. she presses her lips against his neck, and something cold floods through him instead of the usual heat.
he stiffens.
she pulls back, confused, maybe even offended, but he just steps away, shaking his head.
âyou good?â she asks, pouting a little.
âyeah,â he mutters. âjust need a smoke.â
he grabs a beer from the counter and makes his way outside.
the airâs cooler out here, cleaner. it hits his lungs in a way that almost feels like relief. he digs into his pocket, finds his pack, and lights up. the first drag burns his throat, grounding him a little. he thinks back to the time you'd seen a flash of the packet in his pocket, the look of concern plastering your cute face.
"you smoke cigarettes? y'know that pretty bad for you, sukuna..."
he sighs and takes another drag, he knew you were right, hell, he even cut down after that little statement.
inside, the partyâs still raging. someone shouts, laughter echoing off the walls. he hears tojiâs voice above the rest, loud and easy and so damn sure of himself.
sukuna exhales a long stream of smoke and stares out at the street.
whyâs he even thinking about you like this?
you're just a girl. just a project partner. you needed his help, he needed yours. thatâs all it was supposed to be.
but then he remembers how you'd smiled when he showed up on time for once, how youâd brought him that stupid cup of coffee just because you thought heâd like it. how careful youâd been, shy but trying.
and now heâs here, surrounded by everything he used to want, feeling nothing but restless.
he thinks about the library tomorrow morning.
youâd be there early. you always are. waiting at the same table, your notebook open, your pen tapping as you concentrate. youâd look up when he walks in, offer that small, quiet smile like youâre genuinely happy to see him.
the thought of showing up hungover makes his stomach knot.
he canât let you see him like that. not reeking of beer, not bleary eyed and dead from a night he didnât even enjoy.
he flicks the ash off his cigarette, curses under his breath.
âwhat the fuck am i doing?â
he looks back toward the house. the windows are glowing with golden light, silhouettes moving inside. laughter spills out again, shrill and wild.
that used to feel like home.
now it just feels loud.
he takes another drag, the ember lighting up in the dark.
this isnât him. at least, itâs not the version of him youâve seen. the one who actually listens, who tries, who stays sober enough to remember what you said about catalysts and reactions. the one youâve somehow turned him into without even knowing.
he huffs out a quiet laugh, bitter and low.
youâd probably never believe it if someone told you sukuna ryomen left a mixer early because of a girl.
but here he is.
he stubs out the cigarette, tosses the butt into the gutter, and pulls his jacket tighter around him.
he steps back inside just long enough to find toji at the beer pong table, a girl perched on his lap now, and rolls his eyes.
âyo,â toji calls over. âwhere the hellâd you go?â
âm' heading out,â sukuna says. âgot shit to do tomorrow.â
toji raises a brow. âitâs friday, man.â
âyeah. i know.â
âwhatever,â toji laughs. âyour loss.â
sukuna just shrugs, already turning toward the door.
the music fades behind him as he walks out again. the night air hits him, cool against his skin. campus is mostly empty now, streetlights flickering.
he lights another cigarette as he walks, the smoke curling up into the cold.
his mind wonât stop racing.
he thinks about you again, about how small you look sitting behind your laptop, about the way you focus so hard you donât notice him staring sometimes. about how quiet the world feels when itâs just the two of you in that corner of the library.
youâd laugh if you saw him now. the guy everyone calls a monster, walking home early from a party just because he wants to look sober in front of some shy chemistry nerd.
but itâs not just that anymore.
he doesnât want to look sober. he wants to look good for you.
he wants you to think heâs better than this. better than what everyone thinks he's like.
he blows out smoke and watches it fade into the dark.
when he gets back to the frat, the house is nearly emptyâmost of the guys are still at the mixer. itâs quiet for once. he climbs the stairs, every step heavy, and stops at his door.
he stares at the handle for a second before going in.
the room smells like cologne and laundry detergent. his deskâs still a mess, papers and dumbbells scattered everywhere. he drops onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, cigarette burning low between his fingers.
he should sleep. he should forget tonight.
but all he can see is you.
your smile. your voice. your eyes when they meet his and flick away just a second too fast.
âfuck,â he mutters under his breath.
he ashes the cigarette in the tray, lets his head fall back, and closes his eyes.
the thought of you lingers like smoke in his lungs. intoxicating, slow, impossible to shake.
and for the first time in a long time, the idea of tomorrow doesnât feel like just another day. it feels like something heâs waiting for.
~
the sun crawls through the blinds too early for a saturday.
pale light drags itself across the room, landing on the mess of clothes and empty bottles scattered over the frat floor. everyoneâs still passed out.
bodies everywhere. some sprawled across couches, others snoring in corners, heads tipped back with half-empty beer cans slipping from their hands.
but not sukuna.
heâs awake.
heâs the only one who doesnât feel like he got hit by a truck. no pounding head, no sour stomach. just the faint trace of smoke on his tongue and the quiet buzz in his chest thatâs been there since last night.
he sits up, rakes a hand through his hair, and exhales. the air smells like sweat and cheap vodka. he looks around at the disaster that was his frat house, sticky floors, someoneâs shoe on the counter, a guy in nothing but boxers drooling into the carpet, and shakes his head.
heâs not sticking around for the aftermath.
thereâs something about this morning, something clean, light, strange. he grabs his hoodie, slings his bag over his shoulder, and checks his phone. too early for most people. not too early for you.
he smiles a little at that.
when he walks into the hallway, a few guys groan from the couch.
âyo,â one of them croaks. âwhere the hell are you going? itâs like⊠eight?â
âgot plans,â sukuna says, slipping on his sneakers.
âplans?â another mumbles, half-asleep. âwith who?â
âno one,â sukuna says quickly. âdonât worry about it.â
heâs already halfway out the door before they can start asking more questions. the last thing he needs is toj or anyone, really catching wind of this and deciding to tag along like last time.
the air outside hits him cold and fresh. campus is quiet, only the occasional sound of birds or a bike rolling past. everythingâs washed in soft gold light, the kind that makes the world look cleaner than it really is.
he starts walking.
thereâs a bounce in his step that he tries to ignore. it feels stupid to feel this way. giddy. like heâs got something worth looking forward to. he tells himself itâs just because he didnât drink last night. heâs clear-headed. alert. thatâs all.
he pushes open the door, the little bell chiming. the barista greets him with a sleepy smile. he glances over the glass case, scanning the pastries. croissants, muffins, a few danishes. then he spots the one he remembers you ordering once, faky and soft, sugar dusted over the top.
âone of those,â he says, pointing.
the barista wraps it up neatly in paper. sukuna hands over the cash, then hesitates when she asks if he wants a drink.
he almost says yes. almost orders a sweet coffee for you.
but then he remembers.
youâll already have one right now, you always do.
ânah,â he says, shaking his head. âjs' the pastry.â
he walks out with the small paper bag in hand, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
he feels ridiculous. itâs a fucking pastry. but somehow it feels like more than that. like heâs carrying a confession.
when the library comes into view, he spots you right away.
youâre there, in your usual spot. that back table near the window, the one youâve claimed without ever really saying so. your coffeeâs beside your laptop, steam curling up faintly. youâre biting your lip, eyes narrowed in concentration as you read through something.
and god, youâre cute.
it slaps him all over again.
the way your hair falls forward, the soft sweater youâre wearing, the tiny crease between your brows. youâre not trying to be anything. youâre just there, focused, quiet, real.
he stands there for a second, just watching.
then he remembers himself and walks over.
âg'morning,â he says.
you look up, startled, then your whole face softens when you see him. âoh, hi! youâre early.â
âyeah,â he says, dropping his bag into the chair across from you. âdidn't wanna sleep in today.â
you laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. âfair.â
he pulls the paper bag from his hoodie pocket and slides it across the table.
he holds it out to you. âfor you. figured you might want breakfast.â
you blink, startled. âwait, really?â
âyeah. itâs from that cafe you like.â
your mouth falls open slightly, and your cheeks go pink in that way heâs starting to adore. âyou... remembered that?â
âguess so.â
you take the bag from him carefully, like itâs something fragile. when you peek inside and see what it is, your expression softens even more.
âoh my god,â you whisper, smiling so hard your eyes crinkle at the corners. âthis is my favorite one.â
he watches, almost helpless, as you keep talking, thanking him over and over. your voice stumbles with embarrassment, your fingers fidget with the bag, and the more flustered you get, the more something warm spreads through his chest.
âyou didnât have to! really, thatâs so sweet of you.â
âitâs nothing,â he says, but his voice is rougher than he means it to be. âjust figured you might be hungry.â he softens.
you look down, still smiling. âthank you.â
and it hits him, how long itâs been since a girl said that to him and meant it.
you break the silence first, switching to the assignment, pulling up your notes and explaining something about the next section. he nods along, but heâs not really listening. heâs watching the way you push your hair behind your ear, the way your brows furrow when you focus.
he forces himself to pay attention. still, the moment feels easy.
you talk for a while about the project, comparing notes, trading small jokes. he feels himself relax into the rhythm of it, like itâs become a routine.
and then, without warning, you bring up toji.
you clear your throat first, eyes flicking down to your notes. âso, um... toji.â
he stills, one brow lifting, you were finally gonna talk about him since that awful run in last time. âhmm?â
âheâs⊠veryâŠâ you trail off, searching for the word. âloud.â
he snorts. âthatâs one way to put it.â
âand, um, big. like, physically. and personality-wise. very⊠confident.â
he groans, dragging a hand down his face. âyeah. sorry about that. heâs⊠a lot. again, i didnât mean to unleash him on you like that.â he was apologising again, so out of character for him but he couldn't help it. not with you.
âno, no,â you say quickly, shaking your head. âheâs just⊠different than i expected.â
âdifferent how?â
you hesitate, chewing your lip. âi guess i thought heâd be more like you.â
the words hang between you for a second. his pulse stutters.
âlike me, huh?â he says, teasing, leaning back in his chair, spread wide as he looks you up and down. âwhatâs that supposed to mean, hm?â
you go red instantly, trying to drag your eyes away from his man spread legs. âi just meant- youâre, um, thoughtful. more focused. not overbearing, you're nice...â
he grins. "nice, huh?"
you hide your mouth behind your hand and look off to the side. "nicer than toji, yeah."
he laughs, "that's not a very high bar to clear."
you giggled in response, letting him continue.
âso you like my type better?â
âthatâs not what i said,â you mumble, covering your face with your hand again.
âdidnât have to.â
you peek at him through your fingers, and he has to bite back a laugh. your cheeks are so pink it hurts to look at you.
âyouâre bullying me,â you say, your voice small.
âmaybe.â
you shake your head, still smiling, and reach for your coffee. he watches the way you hold it, the delicate tilt of your wrist, the little sigh you make after a sip.
then, quieter, he asks, âso⊠you still interested in him? toji, i mean.â
you freeze.
âi.. uh.â your voice falters. âi guess so? i... i donât know.â
âyou donât sound sure.â
âheâs just, not what i thought heâd be. i thought heâd be a little calmer.â
âheâs not really the type to surprise you in a good way,â sukuna says.
you smile faintly, eyes on your cup. âyeah. maybe not.â
the way you say it, soft, thoughtful, uncertain, it makes his chest ache.
youâre too sweet for this. too genuine. you deserve someone who actually listens, who doesnât treat you like background noise. and for some reason, he hates that the person youâre hung up on is his best friend.
he sighs, rubbing his jaw.
you look up, curious. âwhatâs wrong?â
ânothing,â he says, forcing a smile. âjust tired.â
you nod, and the two of you fall back into quiet work. itâs peaceful again, the only sounds the soft click of your keyboard and the scratching of his pen. time blurs.
when you finally close your laptop, stretching your arms, he realizes two hours have passed.
âwe got a lot done,â you say, smiling.
âyeah,â he says, though he canât remember a thing you just studied.
you start packing your things, tucking the empty pastry bag into your bag. before you can leave, you hesitate. then, shyly, you step closer and wrap one arm around him in a little side hug.
âthank you,â you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. âfor breakfast. and for helping me.â
for a second, he forgets how to breathe.
you smell like coffee and sugar and something faintly floral. your hand rests briefly against his side, and he swears every nerve in his body lights up.
then you pull away, smiling up at him, oblivious to the chaos youâve just caused.
âsee you tomorrow?â
âyeah!â he says quickly, way too excited. âd-definitely.â
you wave and head out, the door swinging shut behind you.
he stands there for a full minute, still staring at the spot youâd been standing, until he realises his hands are clenched and his pulse is hammering.
he grabs his bag, mutters something under his breath, and heads outside.
the moment heâs in the open air again, he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
the breeze does nothing to cool the heat crawling under his skin.
he walks fast, head down, eyes on the pavement.
every step feels heavy with restraint.
because all he can think about is how soft you felt, how small your hand was against him, how much he wanted to pull you in, bury his face in your neck, keep you there for hours.
he curses under his breath, tugging his hoodie lower, hoping it hides the problem growing in his jeans.
âget it together,â he mutters.
he tries to think about anything else the assignment, the game tomorrow, the half finished paper on his desk but his mind keeps circling back to you. your laugh. your blush. your hug.
by the time he reaches the frat, his heartbeatâs finally starting to slow, but the feeling stays. that dizzy mix of guilt and want.
he steps inside quietly, the house still a mess of hangovers, and slips upstairs to his room.
the first thing he does is sit on his bed, elbows on his knees, and let out a long, shaky exhale.
heâs in trouble.
he knows it.
because he canât stop smiling.
~
the gym in the frat house isnât much. itâs a dim room tucked behind the kitchen, with cracked mirrors and rusted weights, the air always heavy with the stale scent of sweat and cheap deodorant.
the guys call it a âhome gym,â but itâs really just a collection of mismatched dumbbells, an old bench press, and a speaker that always buzzes when the bass hits too hard. its nothing like the fancy campus one him and toji visit, still, it works for sukuna.
heâs halfway through a set, sweat sliding down the back of his neck, when his thoughts start slipping away from the burn in his muscles and land right where they always seem to go lately.
he tries to ignore it, focusing on the motion, the rhythm, the push and pull of the bar in his hands.
but the harder he tries not to think about you, the more vivid you become. your voice, soft but steady, your shy little smiles whenever he cracks a joke, the way you always tuck your hair behind your ear when youâre trying not to blush.
itâs infuriating, how easily you creep into his head.
he exhales sharply, finishing the set with a grunt, letting the bar clang down harder than he means to. it rattles against the frame, echoing in the small room.
âfuck,â he mutters under his breath, sitting up and grabbing the towel draped over his shoulders.
he wipes his face, breathing hard, his reflection in the mirror smudged with fingerprints and dust. he looks exhausted, not just from the workout but from everything sitting in his head.
you and toji.
you and that stupid, innocent crush youâd confessed to him like it was nothing.
he leans forward, elbows on his knees, towel hanging loosely around his neck. he canât keep fucking around pretending like this is going to work anymore.
he canât sit through another study session with you knowing that toji knows you're into him.
toji doesnât even remember half the girls he flirts with, so why should he get to occupy that sweet spot in your brain.
that thought alone makes his blood boil.
youâre too good for that. too damn good.
he picks up the dumbbell again, trying to lift through the frustration, but his mind keeps racing. tojiâs face flashes in his mindâthe obnoxiousness, his interest in you only after finding out what you looked like.
the memory makes his jaw clench.
toji doesnât deserve to know you exist, let alone be someone you lose sleep over.
his grip tightens around the handle. he lifts again, but it feels pointless now, his muscles burning for a different reason entirely.
finally, he slams the weight down and stands up, chest heaving.
heâs done.
done thinking he can stomach this, done keeping that deal, done lying to himself.
without even thinking about it, he walks out of the gym, towel still slung over his shoulder. his feet move on instinct, carrying him through the hall, up the grand stairs, straight to tojiâs room.
the doorâs half-shut, light spilling from the gap, and he doesnât bother knocking. he pushes it open, the wood hitting the wall with a dull thud.
tojiâs sprawled across his bed, shirtless, scrolling through his phone. thereâs a protein shake on the desk, a game controller tangled in the sheets. he looks up lazily when sukuna appears.
âyo,â he says, grinning. âyou look pissed. what, satoru stealing your shirts n' shit again?â
sukuna doesnât answer. he stands there for half a second, jaw tight, and then the words just fall out before he can stop them.
ây/n has a boyfriend,â he blurts. âso you can forget the whole crush on you thing.â
toji blinks, confused. âuhm?â
âwhat,â sukuna says, crossing his arms. âshes got a guy.â
toji sits up slightly, eyebrows furrowing. âwhoâs y/n again?â
the silence that follows is deafening.
sukuna stares at him, the vein in his temple twitching.
âare you actually deadass right now?â
toji shrugs. âbro, i talk to a lot of girls, you gotta be more specific.â
thatâs it.
sukuna drags a hand down his face, muttering something that sounds halfway between a growl and a groan. he doesnât even bother explaining. itâs not worth it.
âdon't worry, man,â he snaps, spinning on his heel.
he slams the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.
by the time he gets back to his room, his chest is tight, the frustration boiling over into something heavier. he paces once, twice, then finally drops onto his bed, letting his head fall back against the wall.
âwhoâs y/n again?â
the words echo in his mind like a bad joke.
he canât believe it. he canât believe he ever thought this was a good idea, trying to set you up with that idiot.
itâs not even about the deal anymore. itâs about you.
because now he knows what it feels like to be around you, to hear you laugh, to see the way your eyes light up when he remembers the smallest things. he knows what it feels like to walk beside you through campus at night, the air cool and soft, your voice quiet but steady.
he likes you.
really, really likes you.
and itâs not just because youâre pretty, though god, you are. itâs because youâre kind. because you make him feel human again, in a way that nothing else ever does. because you talk to him like heâs worth something more than the reputation that follows him.
he doesnât know when it happened, but itâs there now, and itâs not going away.
.
the weeks that follow move in a blur. the two of you keep meeting for study sessions, but theyâve shifted. so subtly that neither of you seems to notice.
youâre more relaxed now. you smile more, laugh easier. youâve started showing up with little things for him too. chocolates, protein bars, a can of cold brew. every time, he teases you about it, but inside, heâs having a spaz out.
and every time he brings you something in return, you light up like heâs handed you the world.
youâve started talking about more than the project. now, itâs everything. random things. favorite youtuber, weird scandals, childhood fuck ups, "yeah, i used to be one of those devious lick kids in middle school, me and gojo stole an entire sink".
sometimes, you talk so much you forget the assignment altogether, and he never stops you.
he lives for these moments.
sometimes, when youâre sitting side by side at the library, your knees brush under the table. itâs barely a touch, accidental every time, but it makes his pulse stutter.
youâve started giving him hugs too, real ones. not just quick, polite ones, actual, full-bodied hugs that make him want to forget how to breathe. all he wants to do is bundle you up and take you back home, lock you away where no one could possibly taint that beautiful smile.
he pretends to be chill and nonchalant, but inside, heâs crashing out so hard.
one afternoon, itâs raining outside, and you show up in a damp tank top, hair slightly damp. he nearly forgets how to speak. you hand him a hot chocolate and giggle when he stares at it like heâs never seen one before.
âitâs not that weird,â you say, smiling. âi thought you might want something warm and sweet for this type of weather.â
he looks at you for a long moment trying not to stare at your see through chest, then takes the cup. âthanks,â he murmurs, and it sounds like something heavier than gratitude.
you shrug, shy but pleased, then sit down beside him, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.
when the session ends that day, he walks you home like he always does. itâs become a quiet habit between you. no one suggested it, but neither of you questions it either. you live just off campus, in a small apartment with ivy creeping up the walls, and every time you reach your door, you both hesitate.
he wants to ask if he can come inside, just once.
you always look like you might invite him, too.
but neither of you ever says it.
instead, you smile, soft and warm, and tell him goodnight. he always watches until you disappear inside, until the light flicks on and frank ocean starts softly pouring from the window.
and every time, he walks back to the frat with that same ache in his chest, the one thatâs half longing and half fear.
he knows heâs in wayyy too deep.
but he can't stop.
youâve started coming out of your shell in little bursts. you tease him now, gently. you call him out when heâs being lazy, roll your eyes when he tries to act too chill. and he eats it the fuck up. every second of it.
youâre different with him now. freer. you trust him.
and that makes everything both better and worse.
because every time you look at him with that open, honest expression, he has to remind himself of the lie he built this on, th e deal, the fake promise to get you closer to toji.
it barely comes up anymore. sometimes you mention toji in passing, usually as a joke, and you both laugh it off. itâs like neither of you really care about it anymore.
and maybe thatâs the truth. maybe it stopped mattering the moment you started looking at him like that.
one evening, when the sunâs setting, youâre sitting across from him at the library, talking about nothing in particular. youâre smiling, head tilted, your voice soft. and he catches himself staring, not hearing a single word.
you stop mid way through your sentence, blinking. âwhat?â
he shakes his head quickly. ânothing.â
âyouâre staring,â you say, cheeks pink.
âyouâre imagining things, honey."
you laugh, hiding your face in your hands.
he smiles too, but thereâs something behind it something he doesnât let you see.
because in that moment, it hits him all over again, stronger than before.
heâs seriously can't do this shit any longer.
he doesnât want to help you get to toji anymore.
he doesnât want to stand by while you talk about someone else, even in passing.
he wants you. all of you.
the quiet smiles, the shy blushes, the little quirks heâs learned by heart.
he wants to be the one who gets to see every part of you, every version of that soft, sweet girl whoâs been slowly unraveling in front of him.
and he knows, deep down, that if he ever let himself say it out loud, heâd never be able to take it back.
so he keeps it buried, just for now, as he walks you home again that night. the streetlights stretch long shadows across the pavement, and your arm brushes his once, twice, and each time, he swears of he doesn't concentrate he'll trip over his jordans.
when you reach your door, you turn to him with that same bright smile, the one that always knocks the air from his lungs.
âthanks again,â you say softly.
he nods. âanytime.â
you linger for a second, like you want to say something more, then wave goodnight and disappear inside.
he stands there for a long moment, staring at the door, listening to the faint hum of music from your apartment.
then, finally, he exhales, a small, helpless laugh slipping out.
heâs ruined. completely.
and for once in his life, he doesnât even mind.
~
the classroom is thick with the sound of quiet chatter, chairs scraping against tile, pens clicking as people jot down reminders before leaving. the fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting everything in a washed-out glow that makes it feel like timeâs been stretched too thin. the chemistry teacherâs voice cuts through it all, cheerful but distant.
âalright, everyone, just a quick reminder that your paired assignment is due at the end of this week. make sure youâve got everything finalized. iâll be checking submissions on friday.â
the words hang in the air like a quiet ending bell.
you look up from your notes at the same time sukuna does, and for a moment, your eyes meet across the shared lab table. heâs already watching you, elbows resting on the counter, twirling his pen between his fingers.
he gives you this crooked half-smile, something between fond and nervous, and you return it, though yours falters just a little at the edges.
it hits both of you at once. this thing between you, this rhythm youâve fallen into, the study sessions, the walks home, the quiet coffees before class? itâs been built around this assignment. and when the assignment ends, what happens then?
he taps his pen against his notebook, looking away first. âguess weâre almost done, huh?â
you try to sound light. âyeah⊠crazy how fast it went.â
but it doesnât feel fast. it feels full. it feels like a lifetime compressed into a few short weeks, every minute threaded with something unspoken.
he hums in agreement, glancing at you again. âwe should probably go over everything one more time. make sure itâs perfect.â
you nod, pretending to check the notes in front of you. âmhm, library after class?â
âyeah,â he says. âone last session.â
one last. the words make your stomach twist.
.
sukuna drops his bag on the chair across from you, stretching his arms as he sits down. his hairâs a little messy from the wind, and he smells faintly of the sexy cologne he always wears, something clean and manly that clings to his skin.
you open your laptop, trying to focus on the document in front of you. itâs almost done, just small edits, formatting, double-checking citations, but the words keep blurring. you can feel his presence across the table, solid and steady, and itâs impossible to think about chemistry when heâs right there.
heâs quieter than usual too. his knee bounces under the table, a restless rhythm, and every now and then you catch him glancing up, like heâs about to say something but decides against it.
the silence stretches between you, thick and loaded. you canât stand it anymore.
âsoâŠâ you start, voice softer than you mean it to be.
he looks up instantly, like heâs been waiting for you to speak. âyeah?â
you open your mouth, close it again, glance at your hands. ânever mind. itâs nothing.â
he frowns slightly. âcome on. what is it?â
you shake your head, forcing a small smile. âseriously, itâs nothing. just focus.â
he watches you for a second longer, then sighs and leans back, crossing his arms. âfine. but youâre acting weird.â
you let out a soft laugh that sounds too nervous. âi could say the same about you.â
that gets a real smile out of him, crooked and teasing, but it fades quickly.
you both go quiet again, typing half heartedly, neither of you really working. the tension builds, unspoken and unbearable.
you can feel the words sitting on your tongue, begging to be let out. you want to tell him everything. how the crush on toji fizzled out weeks ago, how stupid it feels now, how you canât stop thinking about him instead. how every time he looks at you, your whole chest feels like itâs about to give out.
you glance up. heâs staring at his screen, jaw tight, eyes unfocused. and somehow, you can tell heâs holding something back too.
finally, you both move at the same time.
âi have to tell you something,â you say, right as he says, âthereâs something i should tell you.â
you both stop, eyes locking.
you laugh softly. âyou first.â
he shakes his head. ânuh uh, you first.â
âno way,â you say, smiling now despite the nerves. âyou looked like you were about to explode. go ahead.â
âladies first,â he shoots back, that teasing lilt returning to his voice, though his eyes are still serious.
you roll your eyes, but your heartâs hammering. âfine,â you breathe.
he leans forward, forearms on the table, watching you carefully.
you swallow, your fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve. âokay. so, um⊠this is kind of embarrassing, but.."
you stop, take a breath, try again. âit's about toji.â
his expression flickers for a second, something unreadable crossing his face. âyeah,â he says slowly. âwhat about him?â
you toy with a pen to keep your hands busy. âi donât really⊠feel that way anymore. about him.â
his brow lifts just slightly, his voice careful. âts' that so?â
you nod, cheeks warm. âyeah. i mean, it was kind of silly, wasnât it? i barely knew him. i think i just liked the idea of him. and then when you brought him to that one session, i realised heâs⊠kinda clapped, nothing like what i imagined.â
he lets out a small sound, something close to a laugh, but itâs quiet, almost nervous. âyeah, that sounds like him.â
you smile faintly, tracing a finger along the edge of your notebook. âthe truth is, i think i was just projecting. when we started hanging out, i didnât know you that well, and i guess i thought maybe toji was like you. you know? confident, funny, easy to talk to.â you pause, your gaze flicking up to his. âbut heâs not you. not even remotely close.â
his breath catches slightly, and for a moment, he forgets how to speak.
âi donât know,â you go on, voice softer now, almost trembling. âi kept thinking i wanted someone like toji, but⊠the whole time, i was really just wishing heâd be more like you, sukuna.â
you meet his eyes fully now, and the world seems to narrow around you both. âand then i realised maybe i donât want someone like you. maybe i just, you know, want you.â
the silence that follows feels endless.
heâs staring at you, completely still. you can see the realization hit him. the tension in his shoulders easing, his expression softening in disbelief and relief all at once.
you bite your lip, instantly flustered. âthat sounded so stupid, didnât it?â
he shakes his head quickly. âno. no, not at all.â
he leans back in his chair, letting out a long, shaky exhale. itâs the biggest breath of relief youâve ever seen someone take. he runs a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath, a sound thatâs half disbelieving, half overwhelmed.
âholy shit,â he murmurs, still smiling. âyou have no idea how good it is to hear that.â
you blink. âuhm, what?â
he laughs again, softer this time, his hand still pressed to the back of his neck. âthatâs what i was gonna tell you. iâve been losing my fucking mind these past few weeks because iâve been trying so hard not to say it.â
you stare at him, your heart pounding. âsay what?â
he meets your gaze again, eyes warm and honest. âthat i like you. like, really like you. iâve had this massive crush on you for a while now, and itâs been killing me trying to act normal.â
you canât help the little laugh that escapes you, part disbelief, part giddy joy. âyouâre deadass?â
he nods. âone hundred percent.â
âbut⊠the deal,â you say quietly. âyou were supposed to help me with toji.â
âyeah, about that,â he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. âi kinda⊠just didnât.â
you tilt your head. âuhhm, what?â
he laughs again, nervously this time. âi told him you had a boyfriend.â
your eyes widen. âyou did?"
he winces. âyeah. i told him that weeks ago. i just... i couldnât do it anymore. couldnât keep pretending i was helping you get with him when all i wanted was to keep you all to myself.â
you blink once, twice, then cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. âyou told him i had a boyfriend?â
âyep.â he grins now, a little cocky, a little embarrassed. âguess thatâs me sabotaging the deal.â
you drop your hand, still smiling. âthatâs so stupid.â
âi know.â
âbutâŠâ you pause, your smile turning softer. âitâs kind of sweet.â
he leans forward again, elbows on the table, eyes never leaving yours. âyouâre not mad?â
âmad?â you repeat, shaking your head. âno. thatâs⊠exactly what i wanted, actually.â
he blinks. âreally?â
you nod, heart in your throat. âyeah. i didnât want you helping me with toji. not anymore. i just didnât know how to tell you.â
he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. âso what now?â
you smile. âi donât know. maybe we just⊠stop pretending.â
he exhales, leaning back with a grin that could light up the whole room. âi can do that.â
for a moment, neither of you says anything. you just sit there, the quiet hum of the library around you, the sun slipping lower through the windows, painting his skin in gold.
finally, he breaks the silence, voice low. âfor the record, i was terrified you were about to tell me you had a new man for real.â
you laugh softly. âno chance.â
âgood,â he says, and the way he looks at you soft, sure, a little possessive, makes your pulse race.
you donât know who moves first, but suddenly youâre both leaning across the table, closer than youâve ever been. the distance between you shrinks until you can feel his breath on your lips, his hand brushing lightly against yours.
neither of you say anything. you donât need to.
the moment stretches, slow and sweet, full of everything youâve both been holding back.
~
the second you get back to your apartment, your face ignites with the kind of fire only a really nice fireplace could match, the ones in those fancy houses you see on the block.
the guy you'd been crushing on for a total of four weeks now had just told you he felt the same. and ever more, he'd been so obsessed he'd told your ex-crush you'd had a boyfriend in hopes of bagging you himself.
for a girl not used to being in the spotlight, having such a loud, well known frat guy like ryomen sukuna become vulnerable, just for you? it was like the world came crashing and burning down at your feet. he made your stomach swim with love and passion, a feeling you'd only ever gotten from receiving higher grades than everyone else, a feeling so much better than finding a new delicious pastry you couldn't help but order again.
ryomen sukuna was it. he was the kinda guy you'd been dreaming of ever since you'd started college. he was the perfect man, and he was as into you as you were him.
you settled into your living room with an adorably large smile painted on your lips, the sensation of fulfilment taking over your ever thought as you dreamt of what was to happen next.
~
the week after the submission crawls by. you think about both sukuna and the possible grade you'll both get every day. every time you pass the lab, every time you open your laptop, every time you catch sight of sukuna across the courtyard, leaning against the wall with his friends.
you can tell heâs thinking about it too. the way he catches your eye during class and offers a small, crooked smile says everything. neither of you can really stop wondering what the final mark will be, as well as what life has in store for the both of you.
friday finally rolls around, the classroom feels weird. students trickle in with tired faces and restless energy, everyone buzzing quietly with the same anticipation. the teacher walks in, holding a stack of papers in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.
she sets everything down at the front desk, claps her hands together, and gives a small, approving smile.
âalright, everyone,â she says, her tone almost teasing. âiâve marked your projects. youâll get the official grades through the online portal, but since i know youâre all impatient,â her gaze sweeps the room, landing briefly on you and sukuna, âiâll let you know this much: some of you really impressed me.â
a ripple of chatter runs through the class. sukuna shoots you a look from across the room, eyebrows raised. you smile nervously and shrug.
after class, the two of you linger by the doorway, waiting for the crowd to clear out. youâre clutching your phone, refreshing the student portal again and again even though the grades still arenât visible. sukuna leans close, peering at your screen.
ânothing yet?â he asks.
âno,â you sigh. âprobably another hour.â
he tilts his head, thinking for a moment. âwant to check it together later? at that little cafe with the green sign?â
you blink. âawe, my favourite. sure!â
âof course,â he says, smirking lightly. âhow good am i remembering your favourite things n' shit.â
you laugh, cheeks warming. âwhat a man. how about we meet there at five?â
âfive it is.â he gives a small wave as he heads down the hall. âsee you then, partner.â
the cafe smells like roasted coffee beans and sugar, the air humming with quiet conversation and the clinking of ceramic cups. itâs early evening, and the place is wrapped in that warm, lazy glow that makes everything feel softer. the green sign outside flickers faintly through the window, the letters worn from years of weather and sunlight.
you spot him immediately sitting near the counter, wearing a black hoodie and tapping his thumb against his phone screen. his hairâs pulled back, a few loose strands falling into his eyes. he looks up the moment the door chimes, and that grin spreads across his face like itâs second nature.
âhey,â he says as you approach.
âhey,â you echo, sliding into the seat across from him.
he gestures toward the counter. âi already ordered for us. black coffee for me, that thing you like for you, and...â he grins, â...a pastry, because apparently you canât sit in this place without one.â
you laugh softly, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. âyou know me too well, we needa' hang out less.â
ânoo,â he teases, leaning back. âi'm just an observer.â
the drinks come quickly, steam curling from the cups. you take yours with both hands, staring at the little swirl of foam, trying to calm your nerves. sukuna pulls out his phone again, refreshes the student portal, and freezes.
his eyes widen. âholy shit,â he mutters.
you look up sharply. âwhat?â
he turns the screen toward you. there it is, your names side by side, and next to them, the number that makes your breath catch.
98%.
you stare at it for a second, then look at him, and the two of you just burst out laughing.
âoh my-â you say, grinning from ear to ear. âninety-eight?â
he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. âholy shit- holy shit! canât believe it,â he says, half-laughing, half-sighing in disbelief. âi actually passed. i can stay in the frat. holy shit.â
you laugh again, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably. âi told you youâd do fine!â
he stands up suddenly, still laughing, and before you can react he pulls you into his arms. itâs a full, tight hug, so warm, so big. his chest rumbles with laughter, and you can feel how much this means to him, how much the stress and pressure have finally melted away.
âthank you,â he murmurs into your hair, his voice low, almost breathless. âthank you so much for helping me. i wouldâve completely fucking tanked without you.â
you laugh against his shoulder, feeling your own face heat up. âyouâre welcome,â you mumble, your words muffled by his hoodie. âyou did so good, really.â
when he finally lets go, you can still feel the warmth lingering where heâd held you. he looks just as flustered, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits back down.
âsorry,â he says, half-smiling. âgot a little carried away.â
âitâs fine,â you say quickly, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. âit was⊠nice.â
his grin widens at that.
you both take a moment to calm down, sipping your drinks in the cozy corner. the sound of the coffee machine hums faintly in the background, and sunlight filters through the leaves outside, dappled across the table. it feels like the whole worldâs slowed down just for the two of you.
âso,â he says eventually, voice softer now, âninety-eight percent. that's so peak."
âyeah, we did that,â you reply, smiling. âyouâll probably get a compliment from the teacher next class.â
âyou too,â he says. âyou carried me, you're actually so clutch.â
âyou helped too,â you insist. âyou actually tried, sukuna. thatâs what mattered.â
he chuckles, shaking his head. âyeah, but even if i hadnât passedâŠâ he pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. âi donât think iâd be too upset.â
you tilt your head, smiling faintly. âno?â
ânah.â he leans forward, resting his arms on the table. âbecause i got to spend all that time with you. and honestly? that made it worth it.â
your chest tightens, a flutter rising under your ribs. you look down quickly, pretending to focus on your coffee. âyouâre just saying that.â
âiâm not,â he says firmly. âyou made studying actually fun. no oneâs ever done that shit before.â
you look up again, and his expression is so genuine, so open, that you forget how to breathe for a second.
âwell,â you say softly, âi liked spending time with you too.â
your cups sit forgotten on the table, the croissant half-eaten, and all you can hear is the chatter of other uni kids and the soft clatter of dishes.
you stare into his eyes, and thereâs a question there, unspoken but clear.
he smiles, almost shyly, a rare thing for him. âso⊠what now?â
you shrug lightly, but your smile mirrors his. âi donât know. i guess we donât have to stop hanging out just because the projectâs done.â
his grin grows wider, and you can see the faintest pink dusting his ears. âgood,â he says. âbecause i was kinda hoping youâd say that.â
he hesitates for a moment, then sits up a little straighter, as if gathering courage.
âactually,â he says, rubbing his thumb against the edge of his cup, âthereâs something i wanted to ask.â
you tilt your head. âhmm? and whatâs that?â
he exhales slowly, eyes locked on yours. âi know this is probably cheesy as hell, but⊠iâd really like to take you out. like, properly. dinner, movie, whatever you want. an actual date.â
the words sink in, soft and certain. you blink, surprised but instantly smiling, your cheeks growing hot.
âyou mean⊠like, a date date?â you ask, teasing just a little.
he laughs under his breath. âyeah. a date date.â
you canât help the grin that spreads across your face. âiâd love that.â
his expression softens into something that almost makes your heart ache. âyeah?â
âyeah.â
for a moment, you just sit there, both grinning like idiots. it feels unreal, like something out of a quiet, sunlit dream.
he leans back in his chair, relief washing over him in waves. âgood,â he says. âi was worried youâd say no.â
you shake your head, still smiling. ânever.â
the light outside shifts slowly, spilling gold through the window, painting his skin in soft warmth. he looks at you like heâs memorising the moment, the coffee, the laughter, the way you keep tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
and as he sits across from you, grinning like he canât quite believe his luck, you know that whatever comes next, itâs going to be something worth waiting for.
~
months slide by, slow but lovely. what once was a study partnership built on awkward exchanges and quiet glances has become something sooo much more. somewhere between library stops, coffee stops, and tight hugs, it shifted. you shifted. sukuna shifted. the line between school and romance blurred until it disappeared completely.
now, youâre his. officially his. and heâs yours.
the first time sukuna brings you to the frat house as his girlfriend, it feels like stepping into a completely different world. the place is loud, music spilling from bluetooth speakers, guys shouting from the kitchen about whoâs out of beer, the smell of cheap cologne and pizza hanging in the air.
you pause in the doorway, clutching sukunaâs hand like itâs an anchor. he glances down at you with that little smirk that never fails to make your heart stutter.
âdonât stress it baby,â he murmurs, leaning close enough that his breath grazes your ear. âtheyâll love you.â
and they do.
weather or not that's because he threatened to beat them unconscious if they made you feel uncomfortable before you came over is irrelevant.
satoruâs the first to notice you, perched on the couch with a controller in hand. he looks up mid game, grins wide, and immediately calls out, âholy shit, sukuna actually brought a girl here voluntarily?â
âshut up,â sukuna grumbles, tightening his grip on your hand. âthis oneâs permanent.â
that earns a chorus of oohs and whistles from the guys nearby. your face burns, but when you glance up at sukuna, heâs smiling,not his usual cocky grin, but something softer. proud.
âhey,â you mumble under your breath, âit smells so bad in here, ryo.â
he chuckles quietly. âyouâll get used to it.â
before you can even respond, toji appears from the kitchen, a beer in hand and a knowing grin on his face. âwell, if it isnât the little chem genius.â
you blink. âyou⊠remember me?â
âof course,â toji laughs, setting his drink down and stretching out a hand. âheard you saved this idiotâs academic career.â
âhey,â sukuna cuts in, rolling his eyes. âi wasnât that bad.â
âyou had an eight percent, bro.â
the whole room bursts into laughter. sukuna just grumbles and flips toji off while you try not to giggle too loudly. itâs strange, seeing them all like this. so loud, so chaotic, so different from the quiet rhythm youâre used to, but somehow, it feels okay. you feel okay.
by the end of the night, youâre sitting between sukunaâs legs on the couch, his arms draped loosely around your waist, your back against his chest. someone puts on an old movie in the background, and the chatter slowly fades into easy quiet. for the first time, the frat doesnât feel intimidating. it feels warm. welcoming.
satoru catches your eye from across the room, giving a thumbs up before mouthing, sheâs a keeper. sukuna just smirks.
later that night, when everyone else has gone to bed and the house has fallen quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of floorboards, sukuna presses a kiss to the top of your head.
âtold you theyâd love you,â he whispers.
âyeah, you were right,â you murmur, smiling softly. âtheyâre so nice.â
âyouâre even nicer,â he says, his voice barely audible. âthatâs why they love ya'.â
and you can hear the truth in his tone. you know he means it.
after that, everything starts to fall into blissful routine. you help him study, drilling formulas and reactions into his head late into the night. heâs surprisingly good at it now, his grades climbing steadily, proof that maybe he was capable all along, he just needed someone to push him in the right direction.
and in return, he helps you come out of your shell.
he brings you to tiny cafes youâve never been to before, teaches you how to play pool (terribly, but he doesnât care), and pulls you into spontaneous late-night walks through campus when the air is cool and the stars are bright.
sometimes, you end up sitting on the hood of his car, his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, your fingers tangled with his as he talks about everything and nothing.
he tells you things heâs never told anyone elseâabout his parents, about the pressure to be someone bigger, stronger, louder. about how he never really cared about anything before he met you.
âyou made me start giving a shit,â he says one night, his voice low as he traces lazy circles against your palm. âabout school, about the future. about being a better guy.â
you glance up at him, smiling faintly. âyou're the bestest guy, kuna.â
he looks at you for a long time, his chest squeezing with the urge to squish you until you pop. then, with a soft exhale, he leans down and kisses you. gentle, slow, like the world could end and heâd still be happy just holding you against his muscular chest.
word gets around campus fast. whispers follow you sometimes. half disbelief, half awe. people donât really understand how you ended up with him. the shy, quiet girl who sits at the front of every lecture, always polite, always prepared⊠dating one of the loudest, most notorious frat boys on campus.
but the thing is, neither of you care.
youâve seen the way people look at you two when you walk hand in hand across campus, his tall frame towering beside yours. youâve heard the murmurs, 'how long do you think itâll last, sheâs too good for him, heâll get bored'. but then he catches your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and all of it melts away.
"don't listen to those clowns."
because you know him now. the real him.
the boy who wakes up early to get your favorite pastry from the cafe before class. the one who drapes his hoodie over your shoulders when itâs too crisp. the one who never forgets to text you goodnight, even when heâs exhausted.
the one who stopped showing up to most frat partys because, as he put it, ânone of itâs fun without you anyway.â
you see it in the way heâs changed. not because you asked him to, but because he wants to.
he doesnât flirt with girls anymore. he doesnât even seem to notice when they do. his focus is all on you. your laughter, your voice, your little quirks that no one else ever bothered to notice.
and itâs not just the big things that show it. itâs the way he always walks on the side of the road closest to the cars. the way he remembers all your orders without ever asking. the way heâll pull you closer when youâre out together, even if itâs just to rest his big hand on your hip.
he doesnât talk about feelings much, not directly. but in every gesture, every glance, itâs there.
youâre his world now, and everyone can see it.
his room at the frat house has changed, too. gone are the stacks of solo cups and random gym gear scattered across the floor. in their place are little pieces of you. a throw blanket you brought one day, a mug you left on his desk, your notebook tucked on the shelf next to his textbooks.
he keeps a photo of the two of you pinned on his bulletin board. itâs a candid, one of those moments you didnât even know he was taking. a shot of you sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing his hoodie, laughing with a half-eaten cookie in your hand. he swears itâs his favorite picture in the world.
âyou look so fucking cute, and happy,â he tells you when you catch him staring at it one night.
âi am happy,â you reply softly.
âbetter be,â he says. âthatâs all i ever want for you, y/n.â
some nights, he stays over at your apartment instead of the frat. he always claims itâs because itâs quieter, easier to focus on studying. but you both know itâs just because he sleeps better when youâre beside him.
you cook together sometimes, though âcookâ might be a really shitty out of touch excuse for the disaster you two create. he burns half the things he touches, laughs through every fuck up, and still insists on taste-testing everything like heâs on master chef. you canât stay mad when he grins at you with flour on his cheek, his dimples showing as he holds up a misshapen cookie.
âhey, weâre improvin',â he says.
âbarely,â you reply, giggling.
he just leans down, presses a quick kiss to your nose, and murmurs, âyeah, but youâre still here, so i must be doing somethin' right.â
there are still parties, of course, heâs still in the frat, and sometimes showing up is expected. but itâs much different. when he does go, he stays by your side the whole night, a protective hand on your back or wrapped around your waist.
he barely drinks anymore, claiming he doesnât need to. when people flirt or make comments, he just laughs them off and pulls you a little closer.
and when it gets late, when the musicâs too loud and the air too heavy with alcohol and perfume, heâll lean down and whisper, âwanna get out of here?â
you always nod. and the two of you slip away, walking through quiet streets until you reach your place, where everything feels calm again.
people still whisper, still wonder how it works. how a shy, soft-spoken girl could tame someone like ryomen sukuna. but you know the truth.
you didnât tame him, you just saw him. really saw him. beneath the tattoos, the reputation, the arrogance. you saw the boy who just needed someone to care, and he saw the girl who needed someone to make her feel brave.
and together, you found something that feels a lot like forever.
months pass, the seasons shifting from late autumn to the first chill of winter. the air turns crisp, the sky pale and bright. the two of you walk through campus hand in hand, your breath forming little clouds in the cold.
âremember when we first started that project?â you ask one day, laughing softly. âyou barely knew what a periodic table was.â
âhey,â he says, pretending to be offended. âi knew what it was. i just didnât give a shit.â
âhmm, and now youâre pulling straight aâs.â
he grins. âguess i had a real good tutor. she's real sexy, too..â
you bump his shoulder lightly. âawe i bet she'd be real flattered to hear that.â
he stops walking for a moment, looking down at you with that same warm, unguarded look that still makes your stomach flip.
âyou know something?â he says quietly.
âhmm?â
âi still think that fuckass project was the best thing that's ever happened to lil' ol' me.â
you smile, reaching up to fix the collar of his jacket. âyeah?â
âhell yeah,â he murmurs, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours. âbecause it led me to you.â
the world fades for a moment, the cold, the noise, the people around you, and itâs just him. just you.
when he kisses you, itâs slow, steady, full of all the fuzzy romantic fire thatâs been culminating between you since the day he walked up to your desk with a failed test and a hidden nervous smile.
you remember that moment so clearly now, and you canât help but think how far youâve both come. from shy glances and awkward silences to this. a love that feels like home.
and as his hand tightens around yours, you realize something simple, something certain.
youâve both found exactly where youâre meant to be, with each other.
sukuna has always dated brats with bad attitudes, so when he had a shitty day at the gym and takes it out on his adorable girlfriend he expects to be yelled at back, but instead he's met with the thickest feeling of guilt imaginable.
(angst to fluff, yelling on sukuna's end, lowkey kinda toxic sukuna but he gets better in the end :p)
wc: 3k || art creds: @/akura_tsuna
total and utter brats is what sukuna was used to. girls with a big ego and an ever bigger attitude, but you? his new, adorably sweet girlfriend? you were quite literally the polar opposite of a brat, and he was about to figure that out real quick.
he stomps with heavy and angry footing into the apartment, he was pissed off, like, really pissed off. some ass fuck at the gym decided to get all up in his face over him accidentally leaving a few plates on the deadlift bar, (something he never usually did, his mind was just filled with other stressful life shit.) so he pulled a few punches and that was that.
that asshole figured out quite fast that sukuna's massive muscles weren't just for show.
he let out a groan of pure frustration and anger as he stepped further into the apartment dulling any sort of positivity that dare disturb his ridiculous state of mind.
youâre too occupied pottering around the tiny off campus apartment in your cute little socks and pretty sweater to notice his foul mood just yet. singing some beabadoobee song quietly to yourself while trying to plate up the dinner you'd made just for him.
kuna always comes home hungry after hitting the gym, especially arms, so you decide to give him something nice and warm for when he gets home, y'know, like the great and loving girl you are?
you're about to pour him a glass of ice water when you hear the door shut just a little too aggressively.
you can't help but flinch, not because youâre scared, but because you know that kind of sound. itâs the sound people makes when they're exhausted, frustrated, not very happy with the world. you were used to this energy from others, but you were yet to experience it from your boyfriend.
you peek your head around the corner.
âhey, ryo.â you say in that soft, dainty voice he still hasnât fully gotten used to. the one that normally made him melt into a puddle of gooey love and adoration, but right now all it does is remind him heâs tired and really agitated. âi got dinner all ready for you, love.â
he grunts, thatâs it. a grunt.
he chucks his duffle bag down on the couch, wipes his hand down his face and mutters something under his breath about 'fuckwits at the gym.' you try to ignore the obvious annoyance in his voice and shyly tiptoe back into the kitchen then bring him a pink plate full of dinner, holding it in both of your precious hands, offering it to him like a gift you'd made just to cheer him up.
and then he decides to turn into the biggest dick face on the planet, too frustrated to be civil, apparently.
with no sort of preparation or hesitancy, he sharpens his deep red eyes at you and crosses his biceps over his chest.
âth' fucks this supposed to be?â
you stiffen up a lil. âit's⊠your dinner?â
you watch as his eyes fall darker and his fists clench. âwhat? you know i donât eat before i shower. you put the whole thing together just to let it get cold?â
...huh...?
you'd never been talked to this carelessly by sukuna before... your eyes get the tiniest bit glossy, but you try to fight it off as best you can. âi⊠i thought youâd want it now because you always say youâre starving when you get backâŠâ you whisper.
âyeah? well, today iâm not fucking hungry.â his voice rises in a way it never has with you. a way he used to talk to girls whoâd scream right back at him, get in his face, throw something at the wall. âgod, do you ever listen?â
"i- i'm sorry... i just thought-"
"wow? thinking for once? didn't know your dumb little head was capable of that."
...ouch.
you could physically feel your throat pulling tight, it burned to breathe through his venomous insult..
âhonestly, the last thing i need right now is some damn girl trying to play house with me after i've just worked my ass off all day, it's fucking annoying,â he shoots, beginning to pace, ignoring the way your face contorted into that adorable yet heart crushing pout.
'some damn girl?...' was that all you were to him?..
heâs not looking at you. heâs talking at you, like youâre just another outlet for whateverâs eating at him. this big, loud, overwhelming presence filling your little apartment with his booming voice rising and rising with each word, and you canât even process half the things heâs saying because your brain is doing that fuzzy weird panicy thing. you donât know whether to get up or stay still or just disappear on the spot forever..
you're silently listening, but he just keeeeps on going.
"you think i want you shoving shit in my face the second i get home?! let me take a damn break for once in my life, woman!â
...
behind your ribcage you can feel the crack, crack, crack, of your heart with each piece falling into your stomach and smouldering into a thick ash, like you were an insignificant bug that wasn't worth this man's time.
and itâs right there in the silence that something finally flickers in his stupidly ignorant brain.
because this is the part where someone should yell back, where someone should tell him to go fuck himself, or throw the plate down, or call him an asshole, or storm out. or anything!
but you donât.
you just stand there ever so sadly, you hold your arms around your body like they might save you from the stomach pains you'd suddenly gotten, the feeling of immense guilt for making him more angry than he already was.
you're stuck staring down at the floor, your eyes feel hot and so full of tears as you gently whisper out the softest and heartfelt apology sukuna thinks he's ever heard in his fucked up life..
â...iâm so sorry.â
ryo's ready to yell something completely unnecessary and rude because heâs still riding the high of adrenaline from lifting too much and dealing with that asshole at the gym today. heâs still acting like heâs dealing with someone whoâll fight him tooth and nail, not his pretty little girl who's easier to rattle than a maraca.
your lashes flutter with wet tears and your pouty lip wobbles, you set the plate down carefully on the counter before your hands can shake too hard and it smashes on the floor.
and then you look up at him.
you look at him like youâre scared you'd messed up big time, like youâre scared you hurt him or made him upset in any way. like youâre scared he might walk away, abandon you. like all of this was your fault.
this is about where sukuna starts to feels like his heart had just been flipped over and fucked in the ass by a 6"3 rugby champ.
he didnât even know it was humanly possible for his chest to sink into the pits of fiery hell that fast. like, physically, his heart plummets to his feet.
âsweetheart,â he says, but itâs too late. he can already see the tears filling up your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself tighter than before, so small and so nervous.
âi... iâm really sorry,â you whisper again, voice cracking in that heart stabbing kind of way. âi didnât mean to make you mad, i was just trying trying to help, i thought youâd be hungry and.. i'm so sorry, it won't happen again."
your voice cuts off as you wipe at your cheeks, embarrassed at the tears that keep falling so freely down your flushed cheeks.
and then, before he can even take a step toward you to console, you beat him to it.
you walk right up to his big, stupid, irritated self and gently wrap your arms around his waist, like youâre apologizing to him even though you didnât do anything wrong.
your cheek presses against his chest, soft and warm and trusting, yet still so small and scared..
all that rage and tension drains out so fast he actually gets lightheaded. he didnât notice. god, he didnât realise! he was yelling. at you. his pretty girl, his soft girl.
the only girl heâs ever dated who doesnât treat every fucking conversation like a competition. the girl who holds his hand with two hands because his palm is so big. the girl who apologises when someone bumps into her. the girl who triple checks she's not burdening someone before she starts speaking. the girl whoâd never raise her voice at him, even if he deserved it.
he was yelling at you.
you huff and puff in uneven spouts against his chest, softly like youâre giving him space to push you off if he wants to. you whisper again in a smaller voice than before.
âiâm sorry. iâm really sorry, ryo. i didnât mean to ruin your day.â
his throat clamps shut.
he feels something sting horribly behind his eyes and he hates it, because he never cries. never. not for breakups, not for fights, not for injuries. but this? this is different. this is you. and realising he scared you or hurt you, even in some tiny emotional way, is making him physically ache with the pain of a thousand knifes stabbing his chest over and over and over..
âbaby, no. no, no, no, you didnât do anything wrong. iâm the one whoâs being a fucking idiot. i shouldnât have yelled. i shouldnât have even raised my voice at you, baby.. shit.â
you can feel his biceps crushing you tighter. heâs huge and so warm, yet trembling in the tiniest way, like heâs holding himself together with the sheer willpower of not letting you see him too broken.
you sniff against his pec, trying to steady yourself, because youâve never heard him sound like this before, so guilty and worried.
his voice cracks, cracks as he tries to spew out another line of consolement, and when you blink up at him, there are salty tears at the corners of his eyes. massive, scary, ryomen sukuna falling apart while hugging you, a soft and quiet little thing.
you just shake your head against him, heavy little sobs shaking your shoulders. âiâm sorry i messed up. iâm sorry you had a bad day and i made it worse.â
oh heâs the worst man alive. actually the worst. he can feel it in his bones.
âbabyâŠâ his voice cracks again and he hates it but he canât stop it. âyou didnât do anything wrong.â
you cling a little tighter, like youâre scared heâs gonna pull away. that alone almost makes him sob hysterically on the spot.
your voice comes out all wobbly. âi just⊠i donât want you to be mad at me.â
fuuuck..
thatâs the moment sukunaâs entire psyche caves in on itself and implodes indefinitely.
âgod, y/n,â he whispers. âiâm so, so sorry.â
the apartment goes still and quiet for a good minute before you can whisper out, âitâs okay...â
âno,â he says immediately,â no, itâs not. i shouldnât have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. i shouldnât have said any of that. i just⊠i had a shitty day and i was being a dick. thatâs on me. you didnât make anything worse.â
âbut you seemed so upsetâŠâ
âoh my love, not at you.â he swallows ânever at you, baby. i swear.â
...
your fingers contract into the back of his muscle shirt, holding on so gently it rips at his fragile soul, though, your tears have almost stopped.
he squeezes you harder, heâs not letting you go until heâs sure you're really okay.
âyouâre⊠youâre really precious to me,â he whispers into your hair, the words tumbling out before he can stop them, way too honest for how he normally talks. âi donât ever wanna scare you. i donât ever wanna make you cry because of me.â
you move to peek up at him with those big watery eyes, and he absolutely breaks down for the fourth time that night. he feels the liquid in his own eyes and tries to blink it away, but nope. a tear slips down anyway.
your breath catches. âryoâŠ? d-did i make you upset?- i'm so sorry!â
he shakes his head quickly, gripping the back of your head as he tucks you back under his chin. âyou didn't do anything, y/n. just donât look at me right now,â he mutters. âjust⊠let me hold you.â
you mumble a quick âokay.â
your gentle response calms him more than anything else ever has.
his arms slip under your thighs and your back in one careful swoop, lifting you off the floor like you weigh less than air, because to a colossal guy like kuna, you do.
you let out a noise of surprise and curl into his arms on instinct, holding onto his shirt as he carries you through the little apartment, the whole 9 yards of princess treatment.
âcmon angel,â he mumbles against your forehead in a sweet kiss, âletâs get you in bed.â
he pushes the bedroom door open with his foot and stands next to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress as gently as he possibly can. the second your back hits the sheets he reaches for the blanket and tucks it around you so fast and frantic you almost giggle. heâs acting like he's scared youâre gonna get cold or crumble into star dust if he doesnât wrap you up right this second.
âstay here, sweetheart,â he says while brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheek. âiâm gonna eat your dinner real quick and shower and then iâm coming right back. donât move.â
you nod with your body engulfed under the blankets, and he gives you one last kiss on the cheek before heading back out.
itâs almost funny how different the apartment sounds now, heâs trying to be quiet. him. the guy built like a tank who normally stomps around like godzilla. you hear the plate clink, hear the microwave door shut, hear him crushing to himself like heâs scolding his own reflection, which he should be. then you hear the shower switch on, and everything is chaotic as if heâs racing against some imaginary clock because youâre alone in the bed for more than five minutes and that simply will not do for sukuna.
you hear the bathroom door whip open.
heâs back in seconds with his salmon hair damp and a white tank top thrown on crooked, water still beaded on his fair skin because he didnât even bother drying properly. he climbs onto the bed quickly, grabbing you like he needs to feel you to be happy and content with his life.
your back hits his chest as he pulls you right onto his lap and you can just tell he's feeling possessive and territorial.
âhey baby.. are you okay?â
you nod softly, but he shushes you anyway.
âitâs alright,â he smiles, kissing the side of your neck. âyou donât gotta say anything. i got you.â
his hand rubs little circles over your hip bones with the other sliding up to hold your jaw with this gentle care no one would ever believe heâs capable of, ever. your tears dried a long while ago, but he still treats you like youâre a precious gem. he rocks you a little in his lap, soothing you like itâs instinct.
âyouâre so beautiful, yknow that?â he whispers suddenly, voice hushed like heâs telling you a secret not meant for the rest of the world. âso damn beautiful and sweet and good. youâre⊠y/n, youâre so perfect.â
you feel your cheeks heat up and he smiles against your skin, just barely.
âi mean it,â he says again, burying his face into your shoulder. âyouâre precious to me, baby. so precious i donât even know what to do with myself sometimes.â
yeah, obviously.
you lean back into him a little more and your hands settle over his wrists. he squeezes you immediately like heâs scared he imagined the whole thing and he might be in some lucid dream still yelling at you.
his voice drops even lower, so soft you almost miss it.
âyouâre it for me,â he murmurs. âyou hear me? youâre it. iâm done with dating. iâm yours for the rest of my damn life.â
you blush deeply and hide your face in your hands at how bold he's being.
"ryo..."
âiâm never talking to you like that again,â he says quietly. ânever yelling. never making you cry. iâm not losing you because i donât know how to deal with my dumbass moods. youâre too important to me.â
your fingers slide over his hand, giving it the cutest squeeze and he just melts behind you. melts completely with his chest going all gooey and soft.
âyouâre my girl,â he whispers against the shell of your ear. âforever, or for as long as youâll have me, baby."
he rocks you gently again, humming in his throat while his hands smooth and stroke over you like heâs memorising the shape of you.
he presses one last kiss to your cheek.
âsleep, angel,â he breathes. âiâm not going anywhere.â
sukuna was used to dating brats, the ones who threw tantrums and screamed like banshees in his face, but now he had you. and he knew in his heart that this whole time he was missing out on the pure bliss that was a calm and sweet relationship, with you.
never in his life had sukuna shed a tear over a girl, but tonight he did. he let a few slip because he couldn't handle the thought of making precious little you feel any sort of negative emotion, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. that how much you meant to sukuna, how soft you'd turned him.
and he was damn well never going back.
A/N i took a break from studying to write ts for you chat that's how much i â€ïž u guys đ„
sukuna thinks you can't hear him talking to your belly every night before he sleeps.
it's nothing spectacular. he tells your bump about his day. offers anecdotes of the world your baby will soon be welcomed into. tells bean (as you affectionately call it) about your friends, his job, his classes, your classes. anything for bean to hear his voice. to know their dad.
it's all so mundane. so...tender.
two words sukuna never wants to be associated with.
you don't even know what he'd do if he knew. would he stop out of embarrassment? you're not entirely sure. but you don't want him to. even the possibility of him ceasing to talk to your baby is enough to keep you silent and still.
"i wonder if you'll look like your momma," he murmurs softly one quiet night, his fingertips grazing your bare belly in a soft caress. "she refuses to show me her baby pictures. says they're embarrassing." he snorts.
"if you look like her, i can see it in the flesh," he continues, before pausing.
"i hope you look like her. you'll be the cutest little thing ever. but don't tell her i said that. she doesn't like when i call her cute. but she's the cutest person i've ever seen."
he sighs, and his fingers carefully drum over your abdomen now. "i guess it wouldn't be too bad if you looked like me, though. but i'm gonna ask around, see if i can guarantee that you look like your mom by...manifesting, or whatever the hell she says she does to get her favourite parking spot every day."
your lips quirk, but you will yourself not to laugh. he should sleep.
"yeah, i should sleep," sukuna groans as if reading your thoughts, running a hand down his face. "i sound batshit. but you sleep tight, yeah? don't give your mom too much trouble. she has a nine am lecture, and she feels bad for missing so many. goodnight."
and, like clockwork, sukuna places a loving kiss on the skin above your belly button, before pulling your shirt back down, pulling the covers back up, and pulling you into his warm embrace.
you won't tell him you know, you decide.
you can't risk losing this. not even for a day.
author's note: baby fever has been getting to me so bad like i'm this đ€ close to letting the next man i see on the street get me pregnant
sukuna was a disaster. missed passes, sloppy shots, stick hitting the ice harder than the puck. he got sent to the box three times in the first period aloneâtripping, roughing, some bullshit call that barely counted. the refs were on him the entire night.
his teammates didnât help. passes went nowhere. plays fell apart. every time sukuna tried to force the pace, it only got worse. by the second period, his skating was more reckless and angry, like effort alone could bend the night back into place.
they lost. badly. he left the ice with frustration crawling under his skin, nowhere to put it.
meanwhile you didnât watch the game.
sukuna did send you tickets but you didn't feel like going out tonight. youâre at your desk, half-focused, pencil dragging across notes youâve read three times, then thereâs a knock. light and sharp which you ignore at first.
another knock. harder.
âokay okayâhold on,â you mutter, pushing your chair back.
heâs there when you open the door. visibly tired, hair still damp, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he obviously hasn't freshened up.
âyou didnât tell me you were coming over.â
âi did,â he mutters. âtexted five times tonight. you didnât answer.â
âyou did?â you check your phone. ââŠmustâve put it on dnd.â
he doesnât respond. just steps inside like he owns the place. drags his bag to the bathroom without asking. then the shower starts running. you sit back at your desk, pencil useless in your hand, listening.
a few minutes later, he emerges. hair damp, hoodie on, irritation still clinging. he drops the duffel against the wall and sinks to the floor beside your chair and leans his head into your lap.
heavy, warm, and tired.
you let your hand settle in his hair. debating whether to ask the obvious or not.
âbad game?â you ask quietly.
ââŠdonât even start,â he mutters, voice low, tired. ââŠthree penalties. first period. refs had it out for me. team played straight up fucking ass too."
you donât respond. fingers comb through his damp strands.
he shifts slightly, pressing his head into your lap a little more, heavy, like heâs carrying all the frustration there instead of anywhere else. his hand scrapes along the floor, restless, fingers flexing, muttering under his breath. âcanât even focus. canât even think straight.â
âdo you want me to help?â you ask, hand still threading through his damp hair.
âsex? no." he mutters, âi mean i'd love toâbut im so tired doll, unless you really need to. we can do a quick one." he means it as much as you make him feel good, his body is giving up on him.
âim mostly asking for you but i'm tired too. iâm sorry i missed it. i was too tired to go out tonight.â
âitâs fine,â he says, shifting just slightly, pressing his head closer, resting it on your thigh. âi played like dogshit. wouldn't want you to see." and then he presses his lips against your thigh like he needs something solid to lean on.
you keep still, letting him find whatever comfort in you.
you try to reassure him, âhey,â you murmur softly, just a little, âseasonâs not over. you guys are still going to play."
âyeah, yeah, whatever. doesnât feel like it. if everybody keeps playing like this we might as well get ready for the next season.â he mutters, voice clipped, muttering half to himself, half into the quiet. âi hate losing like that. hate feeling like i canât do anything right. its a lingering feeling that refuses to go away."
âusually iâd get high to shut it off,â he continues, lips brushing lightly against your thigh again. ââŠcanât really afford to fuck up my system right now though.â another soft, lazy kiss.
âam i an alternative then?â
âsomething like that,â
he shifts slightly, forehead nudging, ââŠiâm probably gonna crash here. that okay?â
"yea of course."
âwhatâd you do today?â he shifts the topic to you thumb tracing lazy circles along your thigh. this would at least help him think of anything other than hockey.
âuhh only had two classes today so i went home early."
âthat's morning, no? did you eat breakfast before leaving?â he has lectured you once or twice about breakfast being the most important meal of the day because he knows how often you skip it.
âyeah. something quick,â you say, âcereal.â
ââŠand lunch?â
âlunch with shoko.â
âmmm, anything else?â
âwatched a buncha law and order episodes.â
âi told you to wait for me on that one,â he clicks his tongue.
âdifferent show,â you answered, âthe one we started together was dexter.â
âthat so?" tilting his head maybe he's more zone out than he think he is. âdid you eat dinner at least?â
âyeah, instant noodles.â
âthatâs not dinner,â he scoffs.
âhey, iâm on a budget,â you tease. âtutoring is usually bad after exams.â
âdo you want me to fail again?â he asks, fingers flexing against your calf. âthat way you have an excuse to tutor me."
ânope,â you answer instantly. âiâd look stupid wasting my time teaching you. you're smarter than me now."
he chuckles low, satisfied, presses another lazy kiss against your thigh. ânever. never smarter than you. your sexy smart brain is something else."
âa brain can be sexy?" you raise an eyebrow.
âhell yeah,â he continues, âi get hard whenever you start talking about numbers and measurements."
âweirdo."
âthat mouth tooâ he adds, âlove it when you turn into a mouthy bitch."
âi'll bite you." you joke.
âkinky," sukuna grumbles, âi'm so turned on right now.â
âyou're a mess ryo.â you sigh, smiling faintly.
sukuna just hums, satisfied, finally stilling. ââŠbest part of today,â he mutters, ââŠis this.â
he presses one last soft kiss to your knee, lets out a soft breath.
âwrap up early,â he mutters, voice low, tired. âiâm moving to your bed.â
âi will,â you murmur.
he moves wordlessly to your bed, slides under the blanket, curls onto his side, pulls it up around himself.
ââŠif anybody calls me tomorrow morning and iâm still asleep, donât pick up. okay?â
âgot it,â you say.
âalso, would prefer it if i wake up and youâre still in bed,â he adds, voice low. "you have a habit of acting like a one night stand."
âdemanding,â
he hums, presses his face into the pillow, and within minutes, heâs asleep. deep, steady breathing, completely out, done for the night.
âžâžâž đđđđđđ w/ reader who never had gentle parents
you expected kento to yell back at you. argue. to hit youâthough you knew your husband would never do that. maybe you wanted him ignore you outright, the way you deserved.
not do⊠whatever this was. anything would be better than this.
your husband met your rage with a searing hug. a careful one. a gentle one. so gentle it split something open inside you.
âitâs okay,â he murmured, deep and soothing, as if you hadnât just yelled at him for the stupidest things ever.
and suddenly? youâre sobbing in his arms.
he didnât tell you to calm down or that you were wrong. he justâŠtold you it was okay?
like your broken temper wasnât a problem at all. god. what was wrong with you?
ânothingâs wrong with you, honey.â
fuck. youâd said that out loud?
you quiver in his embrace, hiding from his gaze yet melting into him.
kento knew you grew up in a household with constant screaming and fighting. you told him about that part of you before you had even started dating.
you grew up used to being blamed. being ridiculed and compared. feeling small.
you hadnât even realized that wasnât the way a healthy family should be until you grew up and saw how your friends were treated at their homes. you learned too late love wasnât supposed to feel like walking on glass.
but the damage was already done and could never be undone.
it had been a long day for both of you. the kind that left your heads buzzing and your patience thin.
kento had come home late. later than he said he would. not even by much. half an hour, maybe?
when he finally walked in, heâd sighed, rubbed a hand over his face muttering a greeting then asked if you had planned dinner already or if he should order a delivery.
you knew he was tired. so were you after all, from a long day of work.
but something in you snapped anyway.
your words came out sharp and louder than you meant them to be.
you accused him of not listening. not caring and always leaving you waitingâŠeven if a part of you knew that wasnât true at all.
kentoâs shoulders had stiffened. not even with anger, but with clear exhaustionâand that had only made it worse for you for some stupid reason.
you were used to being told you didnât do enough. your parents blamed you for having to work hard, blamed you for their misery.
your chest had burned in reaction, heat flooding your throat, and years of defense rising up all at once.
you raised your voice against further then. you did it because in your head, this was how it always went. you had to defend yourself before he started blaming you.
and it scared him.
youâd raised your voice before, but this was different. this was a flood.
you went on and on, words tumbling out too fast, barely connected. every small little thing stitched together into something uglier.
kento had just stood there, keys still in hand, watching you unravel.
he was used to holding steady. but this? he realized wasnât anger aimed at him. it was your panic wearing the voice of anger.
he noticed that your hands were shaking, your breathing uneven, your eyes too bright.
concern hit him hard because youâd tried your best to hold your past in. youâve never looked like this before.
âhey,â he called out, softer than you deserved. âslow down.â
thatâs when he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.
it wasnât to stop you, of course not. but it was because he could see you slipping of the edge of s cliff.
your chest heaved against his, words stuck somewhere in your throat. you wanted to apologize. god, you wanted to. you wanted to tell him you didnât mean it. that you didnât want to scare him. that you hated yourself for yelling.
but the words wouldnât come. your tongue felt clumsy and useless. the shame was lodged in your throat and all you could do was tremble and press yourself closer to him, as if maybe your body could speak for you.
kento didnât rush you at all. his hands stayed steady around you and his weight felt like the apologies you never got from your family.
âitâs okay,â he murmurs again.
but it wasnât ok.
you needed to tell him you were sorry and needed to scrape those words out of your chest before they choked you.
âiâ iââ your voice cracked, and it died in your mouth.
you tried again. âiâm⊠iâm sorry,â you whispered against his chest, barely more than a breath.
it wasnât enough. it never felt enough. you never felt like you were enough. sorry wasnât enough for being this messy person when he deserved better.
he just held you tighter, as if that could somehow tell you it was okay, even when you didnât believe it yourself.
and you hated that you needed this. hated that you were still shaking and that saying a complete apology felt impossible. you hated that maybe you would never feel like you could make it right.
then he said it. the simple words that changed everything, âitâs not your fault, sweetheart. i get it.â
you froze.
those words shouldnât have meant so much. but they did.
he understood. he really did.
fuck.
how were you lucky enough to find someone who could see the pain behind your anger and not just the mess youâd made in that moment?
your tight coil of panic and shame loosens just enough for you to be able to lift your head. your finally eyes met his. hesitant, but something.
and for the first time, you finally realize someone was really seeing you. your dear husband. the person youâd be with for life.
to be seen is to be loved.
jjk angst taglist! @monoash
iâm gonna start a new jjk angst/hurt-comfort taglist because i donât want to trigger anyone on my full jjk taglistđ
so comment to be added!
anywho, iâm sorry. can you guys tell iâm crashing out with this second nanami hurt/comfort drabble (and more to come!!) heâs just so stable and emotionally intelligent and i just need someone like him right nowâŠ
Kento comes home tired, with that quiet exhaustion that doesnât complain. He takes off his watch, carefully folds his jacket, and almost without realizing it, ends up lying face down on the couch, one arm hanging loose, his breathing deep and steady. He didnât plan to fall asleep⊠but his body decides for him.
And as if it were an unwritten law, the children feel it.
The oldest arrives first, the boy. He already understands that dad needs to rest, so he doesnât wake him. He sits carefully on the floor beside Kentoâs head, his back against the couch. He pulls out a book or a quiet toy. Sometimes, without thinking, he rests his hand over Kentoâs, like an anchor.
Then the girls arrive. One by one.
One climbs onto his back with extreme care, as if stepping onto sacred ground. She settles between his shoulder blades, using her father as a warm mattress. Another curls up at his side, her cheek against his shoulder. The youngest tries to copy the others and ends up half on top of him, half sideways, breathing slowly.
Kento doesnât move, he only lets out a deeper sigh. Because even asleep, he knows. He knows his children are there. He knows they trust him without question.
And his body, large and steady, becomes what it has always been for them: a refuge.
Sometimes he murmurs something in his sleep.
A barely audible âItâs okay.â
A name. No one startles. No one moves.
Because dad is there.
And you watch them from the doorway, your chest tight with love, seeing how your four children gather around Kento as if he were the center of the world. And maybe he is.
Because to them, Kento Nanami is not just their father. He is warmth. He is safety. He is the place where the world stops hurting.
And when he wakes up, his body stiff, one girl asleep on his back, another holding his arm, the oldest still at his sideâŠ
âžâžâž đđđđđđ w/ reader who never had gentle parents
you expected kento to yell back at you. argue. to hit youâthough you knew your husband would never do that. maybe you wanted him ignore you outright, the way you deserved.
not do⊠whatever this was. anything would be better than this.
your husband met your rage with a searing hug. a careful one. a gentle one. so gentle it split something open inside you.
âitâs okay,â he murmured, deep and soothing, as if you hadnât just yelled at him for the stupidest things ever.
and suddenly? youâre sobbing in his arms.
he didnât tell you to calm down or that you were wrong. he justâŠtold you it was okay?
like your broken temper wasnât a problem at all. god. what was wrong with you?
ânothingâs wrong with you, honey.â
fuck. youâd said that out loud?
you quiver in his embrace, hiding from his gaze yet melting into him.
kento knew you grew up in a household with constant screaming and fighting. you told him about that part of you before you had even started dating.
you grew up used to being blamed. being ridiculed and compared. feeling small.
you hadnât even realized that wasnât the way a healthy family should be until you grew up and saw how your friends were treated at their homes. you learned too late love wasnât supposed to feel like walking on glass.
but the damage was already done and could never be undone.
it had been a long day for both of you. the kind that left your heads buzzing and your patience thin.
kento had come home late. later than he said he would. not even by much. half an hour, maybe?
when he finally walked in, heâd sighed, rubbed a hand over his face muttering a greeting then asked if you had planned dinner already or if he should order a delivery.
you knew he was tired. so were you after all, from a long day of work.
but something in you snapped anyway.
your words came out sharp and louder than you meant them to be.
you accused him of not listening. not caring and always leaving you waitingâŠeven if a part of you knew that wasnât true at all.
kentoâs shoulders had stiffened. not even with anger, but with clear exhaustionâand that had only made it worse for you for some stupid reason.
you were used to being told you didnât do enough. your parents blamed you for having to work hard, blamed you for their misery.
your chest had burned in reaction, heat flooding your throat, and years of defense rising up all at once.
you raised your voice against further then. you did it because in your head, this was how it always went. you had to defend yourself before he started blaming you.
and it scared him.
youâd raised your voice before, but this was different. this was a flood.
you went on and on, words tumbling out too fast, barely connected. every small little thing stitched together into something uglier.
kento had just stood there, keys still in hand, watching you unravel.
he was used to holding steady. but this? he realized wasnât anger aimed at him. it was your panic wearing the voice of anger.
he noticed that your hands were shaking, your breathing uneven, your eyes too bright.
concern hit him hard because youâd tried your best to hold your past in. youâve never looked like this before.
âhey,â he called out, softer than you deserved. âslow down.â
thatâs when he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.
it wasnât to stop you, of course not. but it was because he could see you slipping of the edge of s cliff.
your chest heaved against his, words stuck somewhere in your throat. you wanted to apologize. god, you wanted to. you wanted to tell him you didnât mean it. that you didnât want to scare him. that you hated yourself for yelling.
but the words wouldnât come. your tongue felt clumsy and useless. the shame was lodged in your throat and all you could do was tremble and press yourself closer to him, as if maybe your body could speak for you.
kento didnât rush you at all. his hands stayed steady around you and his weight felt like the apologies you never got from your family.
âitâs okay,â he murmurs again.
but it wasnât ok.
you needed to tell him you were sorry and needed to scrape those words out of your chest before they choked you.
âiâ iââ your voice cracked, and it died in your mouth.
you tried again. âiâm⊠iâm sorry,â you whispered against his chest, barely more than a breath.
it wasnât enough. it never felt enough. you never felt like you were enough. sorry wasnât enough for being this messy person when he deserved better.
he just held you tighter, as if that could somehow tell you it was okay, even when you didnât believe it yourself.
and you hated that you needed this. hated that you were still shaking and that saying a complete apology felt impossible. you hated that maybe you would never feel like you could make it right.
then he said it. the simple words that changed everything, âitâs not your fault, sweetheart. i get it.â
you froze.
those words shouldnât have meant so much. but they did.
he understood. he really did.
fuck.
how were you lucky enough to find someone who could see the pain behind your anger and not just the mess youâd made in that moment?
your tight coil of panic and shame loosens just enough for you to be able to lift your head. your finally eyes met his. hesitant, but something.
and for the first time, you finally realize someone was really seeing you. your dear husband. the person youâd be with for life.
to be seen is to be loved.
jjk angst taglist! @monoash
iâm gonna start a new jjk angst/hurt-comfort taglist because i donât want to trigger anyone on my full jjk taglistđ
so comment to be added!
anywho, iâm sorry. can you guys tell iâm crashing out with this second nanami hurt/comfort drabble (and more to come!!) heâs just so stable and emotionally intelligent and i just need someone like him right nowâŠ
Toji Fushiguro is so comfortable with his masculinity that he lets his pretty hyper feminine girlfriend do whatever she wants to him.
ËÊâĄÉË
You need someone to practice a new makeup look on? heâs there. No complaints, no side comments. Just him patiently sitting on your vanity chair while you work your magic on him. Here and there he grunts when you accidentally forget to tell him the next thing youâre about to do, but he never says anything about it. Just a grunt and a soft sigh through his nose.
You want to do a movie night where you both wear matching pink hello kitty pjs while doing face masks? Heâs there. Lazily sitting on the couch with you curled into his side - beefy muscular arm draped around your neck - his large hand on your ass. His stoic face painted with the refreshing green face mask, hair pulled back with one of your pink fluffy headbands, and of course his large legs being kept warm with the pink hello kitty pj pants.
His eyes occasionally glance down at you then back up at the cheesy rom com playing on the tv. He makes some comments here and there about how dumb the guy is, or just really any side comment making fun of the dude while his thumb is rubbing circles on your hip.
You want to paint his nails with the new color of nail polish you just got? heâs sitting crisscross on the floor letting you play salon on his large scarred fingers, his sharp eyes watch your delicate hands work their magic. Once youâre done, taking his large hand out of the led nail lamp holding up his hand to his face showing him the fresh paint job. His nails now a light pink his middle fingers having two small rhinestone decal just for fun.
Tojis eyes drift from his pink nails up to your face, eyes shining with hope of him liking them and that soft smile on your glossed lips. Tojis scarred lip turns upwards into a small smile as his eyes look at his nails.
âi love them, babydoll.â His usual deep voice now tender and so soft. Before his eyes can even look back up at you, youâre already squealing and rambling about all the steps you did when painting his nails and of course Toji listens the whole time. Small head nods, little âoh really?â and âmhmâ here and there letting you know he was paying attention to you.
Toji will always be the type to do whatever makes his girl happy, no matter how girly it is. He is right there going along with it just to see that smile on your face, plus he secretly enjoys being pampered with your soft tender hands.
suguruâs face drops, like the nature of what youâve just asked him is much, much worse than it is.
your best friendâs gaze slowly flicks over to the man sitting alone in front of you, typing away on his laptop only a couple yards away.
âthat nanami?â he sighs.
you watch kento pause to take a long sip of whatever foamy drink heâs nursing, running lithe hand through the shaggy bangs youâve daydreamed about more times than humanly possible.
âyes him, who else?â
âhow many times are you going to ask me that this week? i donât know.â the catty tilt in your best friend's tone is unsurprising.
itâs quiet for a bit, suguru returning to his homeowork without so much as a peep. you consider asking again, maybe rephrasing the question differently. he had to know something. anything to clue you in on whether or not your efforts to woo the campusâ hottest nerd were in vain.
suguru can feel your train of thought from a mile away, dragging a hand down his face before speaking up a little louder than he needs to.
âoh for fucks sakeâkento! you single?â
you were 100% going to kill him for that. maybe sneak into his dorm and smother him with a pillow tonight. the only tangible solution to offset the way your adrenaline spikes and your stomach drops.
the man behind you perks up at the noise, scanning the library with a confused look until his attention settles on you. not suguru, but you.
the blond stands, making his way over to you, eyes narrowed with intrigue. your stomach twists, half anxiety half anticipation.
nanami stops at the edge of the table, smiling down at you with a kindness you're not even sure you deserve on account of suguru's behavior.
"so?" your best friend pries. head resting in the palm of his hand.
âwell is he asking me, or are you?â nanami holds your gaze, drumming five perfectly manicured fingers against the table you kind of wish you could disappear into right now
âmeâ uh. sorry.â you breathe, not quite knowing what youâre apologizing for.
you glance over at suguru, silently pleading for some backup. something, anything to alleviate what will probably go down as the most humiliating confrontation of your life.
your friend obliges you, holding in a laugh while he speaks.
âyâknow you should probably be nicer when a girl is asking you out.â he jests.
âis that what youâre doing?â nanami sounds perfectly composed, eyes never leaving your own. you donât know whether to blush or flinch with how steadily heâs looking down at you through his fringe. taking in every minute expression that crosses on your face.
you clear your throat, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.
âwould you..â youâre not even sure how to phrase it without sounding ridiculous. âdo you want to grab lunch sometime? like⊠together?â was that a solid proposal? did nanami even do lunch?
the blond pretends to mull your offer over, leaving you suspended in amber for what feels like an eternity.
âiâd like that.â nanami tells you. he sounds softer around the edges now, kinder. almost like heâs rewarding you for coming out and telling him what you wanted.
suguru could honestly win an award with how wide the smile on his face is, taunting you in your peripheral with a saccharine sweet look that says âi told you soâ louder than words ever could.
After a stressful day of work, Streamer!Sukuna wonât let you sit alone and just a few hours later, you end up on a Minecraft server with his whole friend group, laughing yourself dizzy while trying to get a grip on a game youâve never played before.
wordcount: 5k
a/n: this is so silly but I needed a pick-me-up. Sukuna is such a creature!
more Streamer!Sukuna | Masterlist
Itâs the longest day of the week for you. Not a 9 to 5 but rather a 7 to 6 and is has you stretched so thin, you fight the tears the whole drive home.
Actually, it already starts when you finally make it to your car, settle down and lock yourself in, only to call your boyfriend and he does not pick up. So you drive home in silence, struggle to blink through the tears and endure endless stop and go traffic, five red lights and one whole reroute that leaves you in an unfamiliar area of the city. More than once youâre close to parking your car at the side of the road, blowing up Sukunaâs phone until he comes and picks you up, holds you close and never lets go again.
But youâre an adult, youâre grown up and just like you, Sukuna has a job. He canât stop everything because his girlfriend had a long day and he canât just come and pick you up bridal style because you are overwhelmed. So, you choke down your tears, girlboss up and drive the whole way home without breaking down.
When you unlock the door, only your dog greets you, a shiver of disappointment washing over you when you hear Sukunaâs muffled voice from the gaming room. You knew he was streaming but some romantic part of you still hoped he would somehow sense your distress, come jumping down the stairs in that weird âfive steps at onceâ-style of his and swoop you off your feet.
So instead, you take your time - take it slow. Undress unhurried, cuddle the massive puppy that has been with Sukuna longer than you have, steadily swallow the tears that keep threatening to spill and then find yourself anyway in front of his door thatâs slightly ajar.
Sukuna is in the middle of a trash talk, insults and words leaving his lips in his usual, unbothered drawl. It brings a strange sense of comfort to hear him and yet pushes you closer to your breaking point. You know the mechanics well. Finally safe at home and with your most beloved, your defense system that has forced you through your day slowly collapses in on itself. You hate that you know you wonât be able to stop it.
So, you push the door wider anyway, feel Ares push past your legs and watch him settle back on his dog bed beside his owner, three spins before he lays down with a heavy sigh. Sukuna does not look up, eyes fixed on the screen. You clear your throat and croaks out a âHi,â that sounds just as pathetic as you feel. Immediately, his eyes find you across the room, headset pushed back around his neck as he levels you with an alerted face.
You donât need to say anything else, itâs written all over your body and expression as the tears finally spill and he stands within a heartbeat, the press of a few buttons mid-motion as he mutes his mic and switches to the âBe right backâ screen. Then heâs already there, door nudged out of the way before heâs collecting your face, worry evident in his dark eyes.
âWhatâs wrong?â he questions, thumbs brushing away the tears that just keep falling now. Big and pathetic and lost, you have not even the words to tell him what happened, just break down completely and push closer against him. He knows how this goes. He lets you burrow against his chest and holds you so close that it borders on too much. Gentle sway, repetitive left to right until all there is is his heartbeat and the smell of him and his arms around you.
You cry it all out and he does not once push you to explain again. It doesnât matter how much time passes, he doesnât urge you to collect yourself, just holds you until the tears stop by themselves and thereâs some horrible wet stains in the middle of his hoodie that he never cares about.
âYou hurt?â he asks and you shake your head, sniffle and feel the exhaustion wash over you.
âWanna talk about it?â he questions further, still holding you, your face smushed against his bicep.
Once again you shake your head. You lack the energy and words to phrase what happened. Probably tonight, once both of you are in bed, the words will bubble up and you will talk yourself into a rant but for now, all you want to do is stop thinking about it.
âAlright,â Sukuna starts, slowly peeling you away from him. âHow about you go get changed into something cozy and I get you something to eat.â
He kisses you, careful and soft and you let him, know all he can taste is salt and snot and he still doesnât hesitate before he gently pushes you towards your room and sprinting down the stairs, monkey-style. Ares comes jingling out the room again, the little bell you fixed to his collar announcing his movements long before you hear the click of his claws on the floor or see his fluffy self appear.
To your surprise, he stays with you. Follows you to the wardrobe and gives a thorough inspection of all the clothes you lay out and discard. One of Sukunaâs hoodies, sweatpants and fuzzy socks, all approved by the doggo, you waddle back into the hallway and down to the kitchen to find Sukuna already prepared.
Heâs done more than just find you food.
A cup of your favorite tea, your blanket from the living room slung around his shoulder like some mid-workout sweat towel and the food delivery app open on his phone. Without turning, he already asks you the important question.
âIs it a pizza or a burger kind of day?â
You move to his back and snake your hands into the pocket of his hoodie, loop your arms around him and press your cheek against the shifting muscles on his back.
âDefinitely pizza,â you mumble and rub your nose into the fabric.
He orders without another word, sets his phone down and carefully twists in your grip. Heâs never been one to be cuddled, but rather the cuddler.
âSo, what do you feel like, what would help?â
You immediately feel guilty, knowing he should be streaming, that you stopped him mid game, even if he didnât complain.
âYou should get back to streaming,â you tell him despite having a hundred better ideas on how he could help you.
âI think I should take care of my miserable girlfriend.â
You snort weakly, shaking your head.
âItâs fine.â
For a moment, he doesnât reply and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he dares to make a proposition.
âYou wanna play something? We could do something togetherâŠâ
He phrases it vaguely, knows that most games you play are single player or absolutely not his cup of tea. You know better than to propose to him some simple game that leaves him absolutely bored. But funnily enough, youâve been thinking about a game he might actually have himself, because from what youâve heard, basically everybody does.
âHave you heard of Minecraft?â you ask and itâs his turn to scoff, some badly muffled sound that he tries to swallow.
âMhm,âŠâ he makes and waits for more input.
âI heard itâs a fun building game⊠peaceful and colorful. I thought for a while maybe we could try it togetherâŠâ
His laugh is a soft thing, something that comes easy and makes your chest all fuzzy and warm.
âIâll do you one better,â he teases and bends to press a kiss to the top of your head.
âWe already have a server. We can hop on, you can stay at my base and we can figure it out from there.â
If you could have stars in your eyes, you would. You didnât think it would be that easy, to convince him of taking in a total noob, someone whoâs never touched a game thatâs been integral to most people growing up. Of course youâve seen him play it before, once every leap year, the whole gang suddenly gathers and does nothing but play Minecraft for about a month or two before they move back to their usual schedule. Itâs a funny thing, really.
Youâve seen videos, watched him play. And it looks fun and most of all, calm. Calm enough to be something for you. Calm enough to have a way to spend time with him and get yourself to think about something else that isnât lost hours and a boss who shouts at you when youâre not at fault.
âReally?â
Another kiss, this time to your nose as he pushes you away just enough to look at you.
âSure. Why not. I just have one good thing and one bad thing to tell youâŠâ
âOh noâŠâ Somehow, it doesnât really have you worried and it shows when his lips split into a grin.
âThe good news is that there are animals for you to find and tame.â That has you smile too, excitement growing. Youâve seen pictures of cows and sheep, you just werenât aware there were some to tame. âLike dogs, horses⊠cats and birds.â
âThatâs fun.â
âBad news is weâre on a hard difficulty server. So thereâs mobs.â
âWhatâs mobs? Like⊠the mafia?â
He snorts and drapes the blanket over your shoulders.
âNo, like zombies and skeletons and creepers.â
âThat makes no sense to me, babe,â you admit and he hands you your cup of tea, grabbing his phone and your free hand as he leads you back upstairs.
âDoesnât matter. They try to kill you. But donât worry, Iâll protect you.â
Upstairs, his chat has already turned rogue. Sukuna doesnât bother to check while he builds a quick setup for you, laptop and a gaming mouse beside his own, your own chair pushed across the hallway and into his room. Not five minutes later, you sit cozily beside him, blanket around your shoulders, headset on and Minecraft downloading after he set it up without any complains, typing in some silly username you accept without argument.
Sukuna squeezes your hand, leans over to press a kiss to your cheek and does a quick check in.
âYou ready?â
You nod, know how it works by now, the two of you having lived long enough together to have some sort of routine.
Itâs not often that you play together while heâs live. Your game styles and usual choices donât align, you donât have the nerves for the shooters he prefers, he doesnât have the patience for any story-driven games.
Still, he knows you donât like to be heard on his stream when you are playing with him. You donât like the attention, donât want to be subjected to the endless stream of comments and notifications. You never join any voice chat, always stay muted, talk to him and only him because he has his headset only halfway on, your own voice only picked up by his mic as an unrecognizable mumble unless you start shouting. You like the anonymity he grants you. Enjoy the way he accepts it so easily, despite the public life he lives. Webcam always on, mic always open.
âAlright, minions,â he starts, the press of a few key-combinations before his screens light up again, different chats and the game he abandoned flashing back up. Thereâs a death screen, an abandoned lobby as you realize he jumped up mid game, got killed and kicked from the lobby for inactivity. You reach for his leg beneath the table, mumble an apology he answers with a shake of his head and a squeeze of your wandering fingers.
ââ change of plan. Weâre playing Minecraft and you losers donât get to say shit about it. The mines are calling to me.â
He boots up the game and takes his sweet time doing anything, grabbing his phone instead and shooting a message off into the void. Youâre not part of that cursed group chat that hosts all of his friends. Sometimes you catch glimpses of it when he laughs himself silly or turns his screen towards you to show you yet another image of one of the boys in unfortunate angles.
The moment he sets the phone back down and invites you to the server, you watch as his phone keeps lighting up, messages flying in on the âMaidenlessâ Group Chat, a cursed picture of one of his friends flashing up on screen.
Meanwhile, Ares has twaddled back into the room, a rumble in his chest as he settles between you two, tail wagging lazily as he finds a perfect spot between his two favorite people.
When the game loads in, youâre all by yourself, a blocky world of pixels greeting you.
The base game is weirdly simple. A blue sky and endless plains, you spawn in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a few trees, tall grass and a single, lonely cow that wanders away the moment you run at it.
Sukuna quietly gives you a rundown on the basics. Inventory, punching things, all while leaning over you and out of frame. He sneaks a few more kisses in, hasty things that leave you flustered anyway, swallowing a giggle as you watch his own screen.
Heâs somewhere else entirely. Some kind of building, chests upon chests and red blinking levers. When he punches a command into the console bar, you watch your own avatar be teleported right into him, pixels glitching as he welcomes you to his base.
Then, names start popping up.
Ryomean steps out of you and in front, while XChoCumsX and Tojiji pop up on the screen, nothing more than nametags as the chat bar informs you they have joined the server.
Once again, Sukuna leans over to take over your mouse, opening discord to add you to the designated voice chat, your mic muted as always. To your surprise, the boys are mostly already there, eagerly talking over each other, greeting you with happy whoops and cheers.
Satoru is already mid-ramble about some faulty delivery and in the background, thereâs some weird lofi music playing. You know you can mute them the moment it gets too much but for now, you enjoy the silly banter and endless input on different topics that have nothing to do with your life or your work.
As it turns out, your Minecraft idea has started a whole pandemic. The whole group shows up within the next twenty minutes and while Sukuna shows you around his base, the boys are eager to talk to you unbothered by the one-sided conversations.
You like the way they include you despite your silence, all of them aware to keep the disgusting jokes to themselves and not reveal anything personal while you wander around, inspecting the monstrosity Sukuna has created.
Itâs ugly and thatâs not even doing it justice. A block of obsidian with an iron door, larger than any other structure thatâs in your field of vision, it ruins the beautiful flower forest he calls his home.
When youâve rounded the whole structure and find not a single window or decoration, only some streams of lava that flow from the top in random intervals and pool at the bottom in ugly pits, you call him out immediately. Sukuna, instead, is quick to defend himself. Running after you while scattering torches on the ground, he tries to justify it.
âThereâs mobs. And Satoru. I need a base that holds. Obsidian canât be broken by explosions or anything, so if any of those idiots try to attack my base again, Iâm safe. You donât have to like it.â
But in fact, you do, considering itâs your home now, too.
âI donât want to live in an obsidian prison,â you argue and one of the boys snorts, probably having picked up your words through his mic. You donât find it in you to care, starting to punch the obsidian block to find out the hard way that you make no progress at all.
Sukuna is not deterred by your attempt to destroy is work. Instead, he throws things at you and ensures youâre fully decked out. Not that any of the words say anything to you, but with a few clicks, you hold a whole set of netherite tools and wear a full set of glowing armor.
Still, youâre focused, the actual issue still at hand.
âI want a cute house. With a roof. A chimney, a place for Ares.â
Youâve seen pictures and watched videos of wonderful buildings come to live, detailed and wonderfully crafted.
âI donât even have a dog in this game,â Sukuna mutters.
âYou said thereâs dogs.â
âThere are.â
âThen we need Ares, Sukuna.â
And just like that, the first objective is clear. Satoru, some rainbow avatar with the nametag of BlueEyedFreak is more than eager to help when the task is communicated and then some of the boys gather to throw bones at you until your whole inventory is full with stacks upon stacks. Youâre not so sure yet what to do with them, but when Satoru starts eagerly leading you away and Sukuna doesnât seem to have any complains, the three of you head out on your very first adventure.
It doesnât last long until you get your first jumpscare - a skeleton in the shade of a tree that sneaks up on you and shoots an arrow through your head. It barely does any damage, considering your armor and enchantments but still you squeak and lose all sense of orientation as you whip your mouse around. The boys make a dramatic show of slaying the enemy, more bones thrown at you after it turned to dust.
The adventure absolutely derails. For a whole long while, all you do is run around, marvel at flowers and trees, different types of biomes and endless new views. Soon enough, the trouble of the day is forgotten, nothing more than a dull ache in your chest, you keep talking to Sukuna, who keeps looking at you with a soft smile that has his chat go absolutely wild.
Heâs stopped interacting with his viewers for a while now, muted all notifications and instead is more than immersed in the way you find yourself wandering about the game.
Bones trade pockets as you fill your inventory with all types of flowers instead, different seeds and useless things you find in random huts and in the wild.
Only once does Satoru comment on your choice of inventory management, laughing when you pick up a bunch of poisonous potatoes from a villagerâs chest, only to be immediately shut down by Sukuna who growls something into his mic that you donât quiet catch. After that, Satoru is eagerly sweet-talking you, his character offering all types of stuff he picks up on his way.
Before you ever find a dog, you find bees. You find parrots and some wild cat thatâs so shy none of you can catch it. You find chickens and during nightfall, several spiders that have you desperately run in the other direction.
Not long after, a whole horde of zombies is at your heels and while Sukuna attempts to get a torch into your off-hand so you see where youâre going, Satoru starts digging random holes while shouting at you to jump in. When all of you are finally, safely underground, you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt. Cramped together in a 1x1 space, you quickly dig a larger area to find yourself without any beds.
Sukuna, ever heroic, offers to go find some sheep.
âHow does a sheep help us with beds?â
âThey give wool.â
âOh, like - you shear them?â Excitement comes easy with more mechanics revealed. You like the way you can turn this into an adventure game, a mining game, a farming game or an animal-collection game.
âYea. But I donât have shears.â You watch him dig back up to vanish, closing the cave again before his nametag starts jumping away. âIâll kill them.â
The dramatic âNooo!â you scream has the whole group laugh, Toji mimicking you with a very bad impression and Choso choking so hard on whatever heâs smoking that he ends up having to mute himself.
Sukuna, despite sitting right beside you, makes a show at muting you and you watch helplessly as he quickly makes work of a defenseless family of white sheep. You pout at him and he laughs at you, not as mean as he could, taking the nighttime to finally catch up to subscriptions and donations.
For minutes you sit and watch him play, easily evading arrows and zombies while slaying definitely more sheep than necessary. In the middle of it, your pizza arrives, you leave to accept it and return with the warm boxes, the spice of Sukunaâs pizza already itching in your nose.
He hums happily when you set it down beside him and while the two of you start munching away, Satoru seems to have abandoned his PC while you spend two whole night and day cycles in your little dirt hole, eating pizza.
Then, the chase is on again. You dig up and find daylight, finally get the torch Sukuna has struggled to give you and get taught how to hold it in your off-hand before the three of you go on to find a perfect dog.
You find it, surprisingly, in a snowy tundra with giant trees. Satoru hears it first, starts screaming like a maniac and has Toji in uproar until he leads you to the brown puppy thatâs stuck in a little natural hole. It jumps eagerly as it spots you and you do not even hesitate before jumping into the hole with him.
âFeed it the bones!â Satoru advices and of course, you click the wrong button too eagerly and punch the dog instead, a horrible sound that has the dog jump away, flickering red as it takes damage.
You almost tear up at the fact you hurt it, hysterically shouting about as you try to undo the damage. Thankfully, no virtual pixel dog is ever truly resentful. After a few bones and some offered zombie flesh from Sukuna, the puppy skin switches to one with a red collar, happily wagging itâs tail at you as it sits down.
âDid I do it?â you ask, spamming more bones just in case and the puppy is enough to convince you, eagerly standing up to follow you. You have to build yourself out of the hole and of course youâre suddenly no longer satisfied with just one dog, when Satoru lets it slip that thereâs actual multiple skins for the dogs, multiple cats too and actually, a whole bunch of multiples of almost every animal.
Before you can dart away again, Sukuna proposes to go back to base, get the puppy safely behind obsidian walls and then go out for more. Properly equipped with boats, leashes and more food.
The trek back is anything but boring. Satoru gets punched into a lava lake and miserably burns to death while Sukuna and you almost die to a creeper that blows up right in your face when you fall into a ravine. The whole time, youâre dizzy from laughing. None of it is serious, at least not serious enough and with Sukunaâs stoic attempt at keeping you alive and focused, Satoruâs chaotic tendencies seem to enhance your own, the two of you up to no good the moment heâs in your vicinity.
It almost takes an hour to find back to the base and by then, the pizza is gone and whatever is left was fed to the dog, happy and content with a full belly between you, his head resting on one of your feet. He dreams, paws wriggling while his ears twitch every once in a while.
The pixel dog is lead safely into the inner chambers of Sukunaâs hellhole and only then do all of you realize that the wool Sukuna slaughtered for still sits unused in his inventory. Itâs all it needs to be introduced to the world of carpets and coloring wool. You demand the prettiest dog bed for the in-game version of Ares and to your utter delight, the boys go running to fulfill your every wish. Toji joins the fray too, sporting some ugly gorilla skin as he comes barging into the base, dropping all different types of dye on you.
By then, Sukuna has opened his first energy drink, Toji and Satoru on their second beer while you keep to your tea thatâs gone cold and too sweet.
Still, itâs a feast. You laugh so hard even Sukunaâs chat picks it up and while he tries his hardest to talk over your giggling and squeals, youâre absolutely oblivious to the madness you kick loose. His friends, just as unaware, have the best time just making this as chaotic as possible.
When the dog bed is finished, it takes up a good chunk of a previously unoccupied room and by then, youâve already moved onto another objective, forgotten are the other animals for the time being as Satoru eagerly wants to show you his own base.
It is - massive, to say the least. Sukunaâs own block appears tiny compared to the ginormous castle Satoru has erected on top of a bunch of floating mountains. The only way up and down is some tiny waterfall and you need at least 14 attempts until you make it to the top, marveling at the marble castle heâs built, endless towers and tiny rooftops, glowing windows. The inside, as it turns out, is absolutely hollow.
Among unchanged grass flooring, a lonely purple bed resides, surrounded by some mass of shulker boxes that are all full and unorganized. Satoru, despite everything, is very very proud of his creation and you canât but see the vision, a beautiful floating castle thatâs definitely prettier than anything Sukuna has managed to build.
The latter, sitting right beside you with a hand resting on your knee, gives you a playful pout and acts butthurt over it all when you point it out, only for you to quickly amend with head scratches and another big smile.
You catch the way he looks at you, soft and relaxed and with something like relief washing through his eyes. Work seems worlds away and you know itâs thanks to him and his friends, working hard on the objective to give you a break.
Next is Toji, who lives completely underground and has re-purposed a mining shaft and turned it into something akin to a military base. Thereâs traps everywhere, you die two times unprompted by once falling into a pit of lava and then falling a good 300 blocks into a deeper cave that sits beneath his base.
Sukuna, dramatically, flings himself after you, just to prompt all the other guys to follow and you all end up back at spawn, your belly hurting from laughing so much. Nobody really seems to care that you all just lost the gear they all grinded so hard for.
When Choso, through the voice chat, starts complaining about being left out, all of you wander over to his own area, where youâre informed heâs working on his third, fully automated red-stone storage system that sits right next to the second and first, far inferior, totally automated storage systems. Heâs more than eager to show you when you finally arrive and thereâs an honest attempt at explaining to you the mechanics of red stone but you donât understand a single word and try to act like you do, just to be called out by literally everyone when you too eagerly say âYesâ and âAaaahâ and âwowâ.
Inspired by the buildings everybody except your boyfriend have put together, you set out to make his base pretty. He totally refuses to let you live on your own and instead, a clear plan is established.
Youâve watched enough videos and seen enough screenshots to know what you want to build and after a bit of sorting through the endless masses of items in Chosoâs storage, you tell Sukuna exactly what you need to building the ultimate cozy cottage.
While he still refuses to tear down the obsidian walls, you will have to make do with constructing the house around the block.
By the time several chests have been gathered in front of his base, itâs already midnight and the group has clearly calmed down. Your own excitement has simmered down to quiet content. Sleepily, you slouch about in your chair, place random flowers around his base and decorate the obsidian walls with vines. But truthfully, you are more busy watching Sukunaâs finger drift over your leg than actually looking at your screen anymore.
When you can no longer swallow a yawn, he straightens and announces the end of his stream.
Choso, absolutely committed already to the new Minecraft obsession, claims heâll stay online a bit longer while the rest of you slowly say your goodbyes.
You thank them all for playing, for indulging you, for being patient and funny and helpful and thereâs a moment of almost embarrassed silence before Toji leaves the chat and game and the others follow suit.
Quietly, you watch as Sukuna wraps up his stream. Some more insults that hold no bite and a chat thatâs calmer by the way heâs not raged for hours. Viewership changes by video game and this, this you could get used to. Laughter and shenanigans, harmless chaos and his soft eyes while he tries so hard to hide his chuckles.
When the camera turns off and the towers stop humming, he pulls your chair towards him, turning you so you face him, Ares rumbling when his makeshift pillow is pulled right from under him.
âHow you feeling now?â Sukuna asks, pulling your legs into his lap, fingers gently kneading.
âBetter,â you immediately admit, honestly, face tired from smiling. âI had a great time. Thank youââ you try to gesture at it all, âfor indulging me.â
He looks at you with a lopsided smile, eyes heavy-lidded while his fingers never stop. âI enjoyed it. We need to do that again.â
Itâs the biggest compliment he could make you, the biggest surprise too.
You beam at him and crawl from your chair into his, find a home in his lap and shower him in featherlight kisses that turn hotter and heavier the longer you sit there. His hands find their familiar place at the side of your face and on the back of your head, tangling in your hair. You have your own arms wrapped around his neck, fingers scratching over his scalp as you pull him closer.
When you finally separate, youâre out of breath and a bit too warm. Heâs your own walking furnace and when the two of you finally start your night routine, youâre more than happy to sink into your bed, let Ares beneath the blanket and cuddle yourself as close as possible to Sukunaâs chest. He groans when you tangle your cold feet with his and still lets you do it.
With a soft kiss to your nose, he ruffles your hair and finally settles.
âTomorrow will be better, love.â
You nod and believe him. Thereâs no urge to bring up what happened, he doesnât prod and you are to calm to bring it back up again. Yes, tomorrow will be better. How can it not, when you can come home to someone like him.