Mel

Welcome! ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

[melrahh]

Frat basketball star Sukuna x introverted fem reader 𓏲ּ𝄢

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

(this is my first post on here sorry for any mistakes! I’m new to writing so I’m 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 wouldn’t be a problem but the short 4 hours of sleep you’ve being getting finally caught up to you. Today hasn’t 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 wrong…right?

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 she’d 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. 

You clocked something was off by the look on Mrs. Smith’s face. A smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, like she already felt bad for what was about to come out of her mouth.  

_

“Mrs.Smith please literally anyone else but him. I can handle the work load alone you know I can.”

The older woman sighed her lips pressing into a thin line her eyes softening apologetically.

“Sorry hun I can’t allow you to work alone for this one. The board committee made some new rule about the equal amount of points given to students.”

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 there’s no way he’d be even passing this class. He stood out everywhere he went being 6’5 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. 

“Uhm…excuse me.”

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. 

Fuck it’s you, wait it’s you? When did you even come in? And why were you talking to him of all people? He doesn’t even realize he’s just staring at you and not saying anything back until you clear your throat awkwardly.

“You need somethin?”

His voice comes out a bit harsher than he would’ve 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. 

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. 

Sukuna never saw you at party’s nor did he ever see you outside of campus. From his knowledge you don’t 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. 

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 you’re unfriendly because of your reserved nature. Not even taking the chance to get to know you first before sticking the label that you’re unapproachable. You’ve heard from people how pretty you were, yet you never got flirted with at party’s, 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 weren’t 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 you’ve seen from your how your friends relationships and stories from other people, it’s not that great. What’s the point in being with someone if it’s not long term? Getting attached to that person and giving them your time and energy for it to just end abruptly seemed pointless. 

“Since we seem to be the only ones without partners, would you wanna do the project with me?”

Sukuna blinks a couple times, he’s kinda had a crush on you but will never admit that not even to himself. He thinks you’re beautiful sure but that was it. At least that’s 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.

“Not like I have any other choice.”

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.

“Cool, we should probably exchange numbers. So we can get in contact with each other.”

You say, oblivious to the way he’s 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.

“I’m y/n by the way.”

He already knew your name from stalking your instagram page countless of times.

“Sukuna.”

-

It’s been a few hours since that interaction with you and Sukuna hasn’t 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 couldn’t get you out of his head. Even as he went to practice that day, he couldn’t 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 you’re 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 he’d see you again. 

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 didn’t 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.

“You showed up.”

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.

“I said I would didn’t I.”

He huffs, shifting in the small chair that creaked under his weight as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“Yea but you didn’t really strike me as the studious and punctual type.”

You tease, flipping through your organized folder to find your planning packet.

“How’s that one saying go? Never judge someone by their looks or something.”

Sukuna shifts again in the chair that he makes look doll size, struggling to not look as stupid. 

“Never judge a book by its cover?”

You corrected lips quirking into a smirk at his interpretation of the saying.

“Same shit.”

“It’s not but if you say so.”

The whole time you’re 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 don’t want he’ll take. He seems like his mind is somewhere else. He hasn’t stop looking at you since you started talking which makes you think he’s actively listening. 

Whole time Sukuna’s just lost at the sight of you. He’s 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.

“Did you hear me?”

“Mhm.”

“I asked you when we should meet up again, we have a good few weeks until we have to turn it in.”

“Oh…I’m free whenever.”

He shrugged nonchalantly as if his schedule wasn’t already packed with basketball practices, weights, party’s, and meetups with his team. But if it meant he could talk to you more he’d find a way to make it work.

“Okay, then Same time next week?”

“Yea that works.”

-

The cold air from the Ac hits Sukuna’s 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. 

“Babe?”

The place is quiet which isn’t 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 he’d be dating the girl he’s had a crush on since freshman year. He’d probably scoff at you and look at you like you grew two heads. 

You were a bit weary of him at first, I mean who wouldn’t 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 could’ve 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 wasn’t paying attention. ‘Are you even listening Ryo?’ You’d say with that signature glare and tilt of your head. He wasn’t 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 he’s been taking his academics seriously and started studying, mostly to impress you…Actually 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 Sol’s voice coming from the crack of your door. You’re 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 he’s home. Sunlight streaming through your window, the lighting hitting your face perfectly. He’s leaning on your doorframe, head tilted, just watching for a few seconds.

“Baby.”

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.

“You scared me Kuna, how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

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.

“Rough practice?”

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.

“Mhm, coach was on my ass and that blue eyed freak was ball hogging the whole fucking time.”

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.

“Kuna go shower, you’re all musty and stinky.”

You urged pushing his face away causing him to furrow his eyebrows feigning hurt.

“I can’t love on my girl?” 

You rolled your eyes going back to carefully separating the spirals in your hair.

“Not while you’re musty. Go shower baby I promise it’ll make you feel better.”

He groans like he’s 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.

“Fine.”

He stalks over to your bathroom, you hear the water turn and an exhale leaves his lips. 

When you made your relationship with Sukuna public it caused shock around campus. To most people it made no sense, your aesthetics and personality’s 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 party’s that started in the dead of night and didn’t 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 that’s 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, it’s like he put on glasses, yet he can’t tell if everything’s 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 he’d quite literally kill for you. You’ve got him wrapped around your pretty finger without even realizing it. You’ve 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 he’s 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 he’d 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. 

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 didn’t treat your silence like an obstacle he had to force out of you. Nor did he take your quietness personal. He didn’t 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 you’d 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 weren’t in your room like before. You’re standing at the counter looking like a Disney princess while making him a plate of food you made earlier. You’re 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.

“Feel better?”

You ask softly turning around to face him holding out the plate to him. 

“Mhm.”

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 you’ve 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.

“Missed your pretty face.”

He muttered his calloused hands gently coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“You saw me this morning Ryo.”

“Still too fuckin long.”

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 didn’t know what he did to deserve.

A/n this was way longer than I intended also I suck at dialogue.

[melrahh]

Frat basketball star Sukuna x introverted fem reader 𓏲ּ𝄢

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

(this is my first post on here sorry for any mistakes! I’m new to writing so I’m 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 wouldn’t be a problem but the short 4 hours of sleep you’ve being getting finally caught up to you. Today hasn’t 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 wrong…right?

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 she’d 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. 

You clocked something was off by the look on Mrs. Smith’s face. A smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, like she already felt bad for what was about to come out of her mouth.  

_

“Mrs.Smith please literally anyone else but him. I can handle the work load alone you know I can.”

The older woman sighed her lips pressing into a thin line her eyes softening apologetically.

“Sorry hun I can’t allow you to work alone for this one. The board committee made some new rule about the equal amount of points given to students.”

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 there’s no way he’d be even passing this class. He stood out everywhere he went being 6’5 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. 

“Uhm…excuse me.”

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. 

Fuck it’s you, wait it’s you? When did you even come in? And why were you talking to him of all people? He doesn’t even realize he’s just staring at you and not saying anything back until you clear your throat awkwardly.

“You need somethin?”

His voice comes out a bit harsher than he would’ve 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. 

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. 

Sukuna never saw you at party’s nor did he ever see you outside of campus. From his knowledge you don’t 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. 

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 you’re unfriendly because of your reserved nature. Not even taking the chance to get to know you first before sticking the label that you’re unapproachable. You’ve heard from people how pretty you were, yet you never got flirted with at party’s, 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 weren’t 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 you’ve seen from your how your friends relationships and stories from other people, it’s not that great. What’s the point in being with someone if it’s not long term? Getting attached to that person and giving them your time and energy for it to just end abruptly seemed pointless. 

“Since we seem to be the only ones without partners, would you wanna do the project with me?”

Sukuna blinks a couple times, he’s kinda had a crush on you but will never admit that not even to himself. He thinks you’re beautiful sure but that was it. At least that’s 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.

“Not like I have any other choice.”

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.

“Cool, we should probably exchange numbers. So we can get in contact with each other.”

You say, oblivious to the way he’s 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.

“I’m y/n by the way.”

He already knew your name from stalking your instagram page countless of times.

“Sukuna.”

-

It’s been a few hours since that interaction with you and Sukuna hasn’t 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 couldn’t get you out of his head. Even as he went to practice that day, he couldn’t 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 you’re 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 he’d see you again. 

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 didn’t 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.

“You showed up.”

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.

“I said I would didn’t I.”

He huffs, shifting in the small chair that creaked under his weight as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“Yea but you didn’t really strike me as the studious and punctual type.”

You tease, flipping through your organized folder to find your planning packet.

“How’s that one saying go? Never judge someone by their looks or something.”

Sukuna shifts again in the chair that he makes look doll size, struggling to not look as stupid. 

“Never judge a book by its cover?”

You corrected lips quirking into a smirk at his interpretation of the saying.

“Same shit.”

“It’s not but if you say so.”

The whole time you’re 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 don’t want he’ll take. He seems like his mind is somewhere else. He hasn’t stop looking at you since you started talking which makes you think he’s actively listening. 

Whole time Sukuna’s just lost at the sight of you. He’s 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.

“Did you hear me?”

“Mhm.”

“I asked you when we should meet up again, we have a good few weeks until we have to turn it in.”

“Oh…I’m free whenever.”

He shrugged nonchalantly as if his schedule wasn’t already packed with basketball practices, weights, party’s, and meetups with his team. But if it meant he could talk to you more he’d find a way to make it work.

“Okay, then Same time next week?”

“Yea that works.”

-

The cold air from the Ac hits Sukuna’s 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. 

“Babe?”

The place is quiet which isn’t 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 he’d be dating the girl he’s had a crush on since freshman year. He’d probably scoff at you and look at you like you grew two heads. 

You were a bit weary of him at first, I mean who wouldn’t 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 could’ve 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 wasn’t paying attention. ‘Are you even listening Ryo?’ You’d say with that signature glare and tilt of your head. He wasn’t 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 he’s been taking his academics seriously and started studying, mostly to impress you…Actually 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 Sol’s voice coming from the crack of your door. You’re 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 he’s home. Sunlight streaming through your window, the lighting hitting your face perfectly. He’s leaning on your doorframe, head tilted, just watching for a few seconds.

“Baby.”

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.

“You scared me Kuna, how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

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.

“Rough practice?”

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.

“Mhm, coach was on my ass and that blue eyed freak was ball hogging the whole fucking time.”

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.

“Kuna go shower, you’re all musty and stinky.”

You urged pushing his face away causing him to furrow his eyebrows feigning hurt.

“I can’t love on my girl?” 

You rolled your eyes going back to carefully separating the spirals in your hair.

“Not while you’re musty. Go shower baby I promise it’ll make you feel better.”

He groans like he’s 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.

“Fine.”

He stalks over to your bathroom, you hear the water turn and an exhale leaves his lips. 

When you made your relationship with Sukuna public it caused shock around campus. To most people it made no sense, your aesthetics and personality’s 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 party’s that started in the dead of night and didn’t 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 that’s 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, it’s like he put on glasses, yet he can’t tell if everything’s 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 he’d quite literally kill for you. You’ve got him wrapped around your pretty finger without even realizing it. You’ve 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 he’s 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 he’d 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. 

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 didn’t treat your silence like an obstacle he had to force out of you. Nor did he take your quietness personal. He didn’t 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 you’d 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 weren’t in your room like before. You’re standing at the counter looking like a Disney princess while making him a plate of food you made earlier. You’re 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.

“Feel better?”

You ask softly turning around to face him holding out the plate to him. 

“Mhm.”

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 you’ve 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.

“Missed your pretty face.”

He muttered his calloused hands gently coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“You saw me this morning Ryo.”

“Still too fuckin long.”

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 didn’t know what he did to deserve.

A/n this was way longer than I intended also I suck at dialogue.

[k1tk4ttt]

when you just finished one of the most beautiful fics ever written and you see that the author has a masterlist full of other fics

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

chemically bonded ~ r.sukuna

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 wouldn’t give a damn about a grade. it’s not like chemistry was ever something he cared about. but this time, it’s different. one more fail and he’s out. the frat has rules, grades too low and you’re done. and he knows exactly what’ll happen if that happens.

tojis smug laugh. satoru’s endless teasing. the guys calling him “brain-dead” 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 can’t 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 “sixty percent” and “partner work.” 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.

that’s it.

that’s his way out. he just needs a smart partner who can carry his hopeless ass.

sukuna’s eyes sweep across the room, scanning for anyone who looks like they know what the hell they’re 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.

you’re 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.

you’ve 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, he’s noticed you before. everyone has. it’s hard not to. you’re the kind of girl that seems untouchable, not because you’re trying to be, but because you’re 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.

“you’re like, a chem genius, right?” his tone is low, rough with disinterest, though his eyes linger on you a little too long.

you blink up at him, hesitant. “oh, um… i guess? why?”

“i need a partner, like, real bad,” he says, dropping the failed exam onto your desk with a dull slap. the red ink almost glows. “i'm gonna be honest, i completely fucked myself with this last exam. i can’t afford to fail again.”

you stare at the paper, then at him. up close, he’s 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 who’d ever ask for help, especially from you, and the fact that he’s doing it now makes your mind reel.

“i- look, don't take this the wrong way, but... theres a lot of people in this class,” you manage softly. “why pick me?”

he shrugs, leaning one hand on the desk beside your notes. “because you actually know what you’re doing. and i’m not looking to get stuck with some idiot who’ll drag me down, i'm already so fucking cooked."

you hesitate, glancing away. you’ve never really talked to him before. actually, you’ve barely even noticed him beyond the times you’ve seen him walking across campus with toji. that’s usually when your stomach does that stupid fluttering thing. watching toji laugh, his arm slung lazily around sukuna’s shoulders, both of them looking like they own the place.

it’s strange seeing one of them standing here now, asking you for help.

you fidget with your pen. “that's fine, sure. but… if we’re partners, wed have to split the workload.”

"yeah,” he says. “i can pull my weight, don't stress it, sweetheart. mostly just need someone to keep me from bombing it.”

it’s almost funny. he’s trying to sound casual, but something about the way he’s watching you feels uncharacteristically careful. like he’s actually waiting for your answer rather than being the overbearing dick he usually is.

maybe it’s because you’re cute. or maybe it’s because he knows you hold his fate in your small, nervous hands.

you chew your lip for a moment, then nod. “yeah, okay. i’ll help you out.”

his mouth tilts in a grin that’s half smug, half genuine relief. “good. 'preciate it, babe.”

you look down instantly, pretending to organize your papers so he doesn’t 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 he’s been sitting there all semester.

the professor’s 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 mind’s racing the whole time. sukuna, meanwhile, can’t stop sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye.

he hadn’t expected you to actually agree. and he definitely hadn’t expected to find himself curious about you. you’re 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 shouldn’t 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.

“hey… sukuna?”

he hums, eyes flicking toward you lazily. “yeah?”

you look nervous, the words almost tripping over themselves before they leave your mouth. cute. “i’ll help you pass. but… can you help me out with something too?”

his brow arches. “hmm. depends what it is.”

you take a quiet breath. “it’s about your friend. uh.. toji.”

that gets his attention. his posture stiffens a little. “what about him?”

you look down at your notebook, like it’s safer than looking at him. “i just… i think he’s really attractive. and he looks nice. i know it’s kind of stupid but i was wondering if maybe... you could help me get him to notice me.”

for a second, sukuna just stares at you.

out of all the things he expected you to say, that wasn’t 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 girls’ names after he sleeps with them.

he leans back slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “you’re serious?”

you nod, eyes still fixed on your notebook.

he studies you for a long moment. you’re fidgeting again, twisting your pen between your fingers, your voice so soft he almost misses it. “you don’t have to if it’s weird, i just thought… you two are close, so maybe…”

sukuna exhales through his nose. part of him wants to tell you it’s a bad idea. that toji doesn’t deserve someone like you. that you’d get hurt trying to chase a guy like that.

but he doesn’t.

instead, he tilts his head and says, “yeah, fine. i’ll help you out.”

your head snaps up, eyes wide. “huh? really?”

“yeah. but only because you’re saving my ass with this project,” he says, smirking a little. “guess we’ll call it even.”

you smile, small, bright, genuine, and something tightens in his chest.

you're so cute.

“thank you,” you say quietly.

he grins again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “don’t mention it, honey.”

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 it’s just a deal. a trade. nothing more.

but as you disappear out the door, he can’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s 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. someone’s 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 it’s a familiar kind of chaos. toji’s across the table, grin sharp as he sinks another ping-pong ball into the last cup.

“hell yeah,” toji shouts, hands raised. “that’s another win for me, baby!”

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. sukuna’s 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 music’s pounding through the walls, but the corner they’re 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. “you’re slipping, man,” he says, smirking at sukuna. “used to be able to hold your own in beer pong.”

“fuck up,” sukuna mutters, head tipped back, eyes half-lidded. “that last shot was rigged.”

“rigged?” toji laughs, deep and unrestrained. “you’re just rusty.”

sukuna grunts, tossing his empty cup onto the coffee table. his head’s 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 you’d fidget with your pen when you were nervous.

he doesn’t even realize he’s been quiet until toji elbows him. “yo, what’s got you zoning out?”

sukuna runs his tongue over his teeth, deciding. screw it. “you ever heard of someone named y/n?”

toji raises a brow, blinking like he didn’t catch that over the noise. “who?”

“y/n,” sukuna repeats.

toji shakes his head, lips quirking. “nah. that some new chick you’re banging?”

sukuna sputters, choking on air. “what? no. i’m not-” he cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. great. smooth start.

toji’s smirk widens. “come on, man. don’t get shy on me. you’re stuttering like some freshman.”

“shut up,” sukuna mutters, glaring at him. “it’s not like that.”

“then what’s it like?”

he hesitates, watching the light flicker off the beer bottles on the table. there’s no way to explain it without sounding weird. he’s not even sure why he’s bringing you up at all, except that he made a promise, and now he’s gotta start somewhere.

“she’s just… in my chem class,” he finally says. “smart as hell. the kind that actually knows what she’s doing, y’know?”

toji snorts. “so, a nerd.”

“yeah,” sukuna says, ignoring the way toji says it like it’s an insult. “but, like… cute. shy, quiet, nice, i guess.”

toji’s grin widens. “bro. you’re seriously telling me about a crush right now? what the hell happened to you?”

“it’s not a crush,” sukuna says quickly, though his voice comes out sharper than he means. “she’s just..” he stops, running a hand through his hair. “she’s helping me with chem, okay? and i told her i’d help her with something too.”

“what, she want free alcs?” toji laughs.

“no.” sukuna exhales through his nose. “she wants you.”

that earns him a pause. toji tilts his head, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to decide if he misheard. “me?”

“yeah.”

“as in… she wants to, what, date me?”

“basically.”

toji’s silent for a moment, then he breaks into a bark of laughter so loud it turns a few heads. “you’re kidding, right? some shy nerdy girl wants me?” he grins, tapping his chest. “guess she’s got good taste.”

sukuna grits his teeth. “don’t be an ass about it.”

“what? i’m not being an ass,” toji says, still smirking. “just saying, that’s not really my type, man. i like girls who can actually keep up, y’know?”

“yeah, i know,” sukuna mutters. “that’s kinda the problem.”

“problem?”

sukuna leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping low. “look, she’s… she’s sweet. like, actually sweet. the kind of girl that probably still says ‘sorry’ even when someone bumps into her first. you’d break her in half.”

toji shrugs, unbothered. “then maybe she shouldn’t be into me.”

“she doesn’t even know you,” sukuna says, frustration creeping into his tone. “she just saw you around. thinks you’re… i don’t know. hot and nice.”

“ha,” toji barks out a laugh, finishing his drink. “then she’s definitely got the wrong idea.”

sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. this was going nowhere.

he tries again, his tone careful. “i just figured maybe you could give her a chance. she’s not like the other girls you mess with. she’s…” he hesitates, searching for the right word. “different. the kind you’d actually like if you gave her five minutes.”

toji side-eyes him, clearly amused. “you trying to sell me a girlfriend or something? what’s in it for you?”

sukuna’s jaw tightens. “nothing. i told her i’d help her out, that’s all.”

toji grins, eyes glinting. “you sure about that? you sound kinda like you wanna keep her for yourself.”

sukuna’s silent for a beat, his pulse ticking faster than it should. “i don’t.”

“right. and i’m the pope.” toji laughs, leaning back. “are you high? tellin’ me about how cute and shy she is… just fuck her and move on, bro. no need for all this emotional shit.”

sukuna drags a hand down his face, groaning. “i wish i was fucking high. jesus, you’re impossible.”

the music gets louder again, another chant rising from the kitchen as someone calls for shots. toji stands, stretching, grinning down at him. “come on, man. stop thinking so hard. let’s go get wasted.”

sukuna waves him off. “nah, i’m good. go ahead.”

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.

you’re 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.

“morning,” you say softly.

“hey,” he mutters, sliding into the seat next to you.

the teacher doesn’t 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.

“should we…?”

“yeah, library,” he says before you can finish. “less noise.”

you nod quickly, tucking your notes under your arm as you follow him out.

the walk’s 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. there’s 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. it’s quiet enough that every turn of a page feels loud.

you sit across from him, pulling your laptop from your bag. “um, before we start, maybe we should exchange contact info?”

he nods, pulling out his phone. “yeah. what's ya' number?”

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 he’s already found it. your account’s 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. “ours are… really different.”

he huffs out a quiet laugh. “yeah. just a little.”

he doesn’t 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, he’s 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. “did you… talk to toji?”

he freezes for a fraction of a second, mind flashing back to last night. the laughter, the teasing, the absolute disaster of that conversation.

“yeah,” he says after a moment, forcing a smile. “i did.”

your eyes widen, curious. “what’d he say?”

he hesitates. you’re looking at him so earnestly, waiting for an answer, and he can’t bring himself to tell you that toji laughed it off, that he’d said something crude about just sleeping with you and moving on.

so he lies.

“he seemed interested,” sukuna says smoothly. “asked who you were. said you sounded cute.”

you go still for a moment, then your cheeks flush, and you duck your head. “really?”

“yeah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “told him you were smart, nice. he said that’s rare.”

your shy smile makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t understand.

“that’s… really nice of you, sukuna,” you say softly. “thanks.”

he shrugs, forcing a grin. “told you i’d help.”

but as you turn back to your notes, still smiling faintly to yourself, he can’t look away. he doesn’t know what’s worse, the way lying to you actually hurts his heart, or the way part of him’s 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 someone’s tv from another room.

it’s strange. unsettling, almost. he’s 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.

it’s weird? he’s 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 room’s 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 doesn’t 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.

you’re holding a tiny puppy in your arms, your face caught mid laugh, like someone had said something funny right before snapping the picture. the puppy’s paw rests against your chest, nose tucked near your chin. in your other hand, you’re holding a paper cup of coffee, a little swirl of foam peeking through the lid.

he stares at it for longer than he should.

it’s just a photo, nothing special, but something about it hits him hard . the little details, the way your fingers hold gently under the puppy’s 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 friend’s. or some random one you met at a cafe.

was the coffee yours? it looks like something you’d order, something simple. maybe vanilla, maybe something with caramel.

where was that taken? some small corner cafe? a weekend morning somewhere quiet?

he doesn’t 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 you’re 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.

“what the fuck am i doing,” he mutters.

he’s never been that guy. the one who scrolls through a girl’s profile like he’s 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 doesn’t ask those questions. he doesn’t want to ask those questions.

but he can’t stop himself.

he scrolls again, back up to your most recent post, another candid shot, you’re 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.

you’re really fucking pretty.

he’d always known that. he’d noticed, sure, he’s not blind. the first day you’d agreed to work with him, he’d 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 it’s more than that.

you’re 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 friend’s 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 you’d smile that soft, nervous smile at him, and maybe you’d fall for him harder than you already have.

and that image, that thought? makes sukuna’s jaw clench.

he shakes his head, forcing the phone screen off.

“get a grip,” he mutters, rolling onto his side.

but it’s 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.

you’ve met up three times since that first day at the library. each time, sukuna’s noticed small things. how you seem to relax around him more, how you’ve 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.

you’re already there when he walks in.

same table. same corner near the back.

but this time, something’s different.

you’re standing by your seat, waving slightly when you see him. and in your hands, you’re holding two cups of coffee.

“hey,” you say, your voice bright and clear in a way that makes him pause.

he blinks, momentarily thrown off by how cheerful you sound. “hey,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as usual.

you hold out one of the cups toward him. “i, um, got this for you. black coffee, right?”

for a second, he just stares.

it’s stupid. it’s a coffee cup. but his mind stutters anyway.

“yeah,” he says, voice quieter than he means it to be. “yeah, that’s right.”

“i wasn’t sure how you take it,” you admit with a small laugh. “you seem like the kind of person who drinks it straight. no sugar, no milk.”

he huffs out a small laugh, taking the cup from you. “you got that right.”

“lucky guess.”

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.

“thanks,” he says finally, lifting the cup slightly. “for the coffee.”

you smile, soft and genuine. “you’ve been helping me a lot with this, so i thought it was the least i could do.”

he wants to tell you that you’ve got it backwards, that you’re 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.

“you didn’t have to, y'know.”

“i wanted to,” 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. “alright, so. what’s the plan for today?”

you talk about the experiment data, what needs to be written up, the references you still have to gather. he listens, but part of him’s distracted.

it’s the way you’re talking now, louder, lighter. you’re not tripping over your words anymore. you’re 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 doesn’t make something twist in his chest.

as the minutes pass, the project talk starts to blur into something else. he’s the one who changes the subject first.

“so,” he says, leaning back slightly. “what’s with you and coffee? every time i see you, you’ve got one.”

you look up from your laptop, blinking. “i just like it, i guess. i go to this little place near campus almost every morning before class.”

“the one with the green sign?”

“yeah, that one.”

“figured.”

you laugh quietly. “you go there too?”

“sometimes,” he says. “after workouts. they’ve got good espresso.”

you tilt your head. “you work out every morning?”

“almost,” he says, smirking faintly. “gotta keep my sexy frat guy aura in tact.”

“oh, right,” you tease, eyes glinting a little. “wouldn’t want to disappoint your fans.”

he blinks, caught off guard. “fans?”

“your instagram,” you say, trying not to laugh. “you’ve got, like, a thousand girls following you. i saw.”

he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “don’t remind me.”

“why?”

“because half of them don’t even go to this school,” he says, grinning a little. “they just… show up.”

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 (“that’s my friend’s puppy,” you explain. “he’s named mochi.”).

sukuna finds himself asking questions, more than he’s 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 you’re 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.

“same time next week?” you ask, glancing up.

“yeah,” he says. “same spot.”

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, that’s 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.

toji’s 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.

“yo, you down to hit the gym?”

sukuna doesn’t even hesitate. “for sure.”

mondays are brutal, but skipping a session isn’t an option. not when you’ve 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.

“bro, did you see the game last night?” toji asks, tossing a smirk his way.

“yeah,” sukuna mutters. “you owe me twenty.”

toji groans. “bullshit. that last call was garbage.”

“still counts.”

they go back and forth for a while typical talk. girls, workouts, who pulled who at the last party. toji’s loud, animated, the kind of guy who fills silence with his own voice. sukuna listens, laughs when he should, but half his mind’s somewhere else.

they’re cutting across the main quad when he spots you.

you’re 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.

you’re 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 don’t see him, too focused on your phone, but his chest tightens anyway.

for a second, it’s like the rest of the campus fades away.

then he remembers who’s walking beside him.

toji’s still talking about some girl he hooked up with over the weekend, words fading into the background as sukuna’s jaw tightens. he forces his eyes away, tells himself to stop being weird. this is stupid. you’re just his lab partner.

except he’s not supposed to be thinking about how good you look in the morning light. he’s supposed to be thinking about the deal.

the one with toji.

his throat feels dry as he forces himself to speak.

“hey,” he says suddenly. “you remember that girl i was talking about the other night?”

toji glances over, raising a brow. “the chem one?”

“yeah. that’s her.”

he nods toward you before he can second-guess it.

toji slows immediately, his attention shifting in your direction. you’re 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.

“no way,” toji says, eyes widening. “that’s her?”

“yeah,” sukuna mutters.

“holy shit.” toji’s grin spreads, sharp and impressed. “you didn’t tell me she was that cute.”

sukuna doesn’t respond. he just keeps walking, pretending to be unfazed, but every word toji says feels like it’s digging deeper under his skin.

“seriously, bro,” toji continues, still staring after you even as you disappear into the building. “you made her sound like some dorky little nerd. i was picturing ugly glasses, messy bun, the whole thing. but she’s, damn. she’s adorable.”

sukuna’s stomach twists. he forces a smirk, because that’s what’s expected. “yeah, she’s not bad.”

“not bad?” toji laughs, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “she’s gorgeous. you holding out on me, man?”

“nah,” sukuna says quickly. “just didn’t think you’d be into that type.”

“what type?”

“the smart, quiet type,” he says, voice flat. “thought you liked girls who could ‘keep up,’ remember?”

toji scoffs. “yeah, well, she’s too cute to pass up. shit, you should let me tag along next time you’re studying with her. see what she’s like up close.”

sukuna forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “yeah, sure. whatever.”

inside, he’s 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 won’t shut up. toji’s words keep echoing. she’s adorable. she’s 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 day’s overcast, the library quiet except for the soft hush of the air conditioning. you’re 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.

“hey,” he says, slipping through the aisles toward you.

your face brightens instantly, that small, warm smile tugging at your lips.

“hi,” 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. he’s 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.

“this is toji,” sukuna says, trying to sound casual. “he wanted to tag along today.”

“hey,” toji says smoothly, pulling up a chair without asking. “nice to meet you, y/n.”

you nod, cheeks pink. “h-hi.”

it’s 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 toji’s already jumping in with his own questions, none of them relevant.

“so,” toji leans forward, elbows on the table. “you’re really good at this chem stuff, huh? always been a little nerd?”

you laugh nervously, eyes flicking between the two of them. “i… guess so?”

“yeah, i could never,” he says, shaking his head. “i barely passed last year. too many parties, you know how it is.”

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.

it’s brutal.

every word toji says feels like a slow car crash sukuna can’t stop. he knows he should’ve expected this. this was always how toji was but now that it’s happening in front of you, he can’t stand it.

you’re 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 he’s filling the space that’s always felt quiet and easy with you.

after what feels like forever, toji’s phone buzzes. he glances down, reads the message, and stands up.

“gotta head out,” he says, smirking. “good luck with your project, sweetheart. maybe i’ll swing by next time, yeah?”

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 he’s out of sight, sukuna exhales hard and runs a hand through his hair.

“fuck,” he mutters. “sorry about that.”

your eyes widen a little. “oh, um, it’s fine.”

“no, seriously,” he says, glancing at you. “i should’ve told you i was bringing him.”

you hesitate, then smile, shy but real. “it’s okay. i was just… nervous, i guess.”

he tilts his head. “why?”

you look down at your notes. “he’s just… kind of intense. i didn’t expect that.”

“yeah,” he says quietly. “he’s like that.”

the silence that follows isn’t awkward, though. it’s calm. steady.

you’re 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 don’t mention toji again.

and he doesn’t either.

for the rest of the session, it’s just the two of you again. back to the easy rhythm he didn’t realize he’d missed until it was gone. you explain a reaction mechanism, he teases you about your handwriting, you roll your eyes and laugh.

when it’s time to leave, you pack up your things slowly, almost like you don’t want the moment to end.

“see you next week?” you ask.

“yeah,” he says, smiling faintly. “next week.”

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 he’s made a mistake.

because the whole walk back to the frat, the only thing running through his head isn’t how toji couldn’t shut up or how awkward the whole thing was.

it’s 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 doesn’t know what to call it. doesn’t want to.

but deep down, he knows one thing for sure.

the next time you two meet, he’s 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.

it’s a mixer. one of those invite only things, where every girl in greek row tries to get noticed by the “right” house. and sukuna’s 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.

“about time, man,” toji says when sukuna steps up beside him. “thought you’d bailed.”

“nah,” sukuna mutters. “just took my time.”

“yeah, well, tonight’s supposed to be wild. let’s make the most of it.”

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 sukuna’s name as they pass, and he just flashes that lazy grin he’s perfected, the one that says he’s not interested, but he might be later.

it’s all automatic now. the smirk, the eye contact, the way his shoulders roll when he laughs. it’s all muscle memory.

but tonight, something feels off.

maybe it’s the way every laugh sounds fake. maybe it’s the way the lights flash too bright, painting everyone in the same plastic color.

maybe it’s because all he can think about is you.

they end up in the kitchen, where the music’s still loud but not deafening. beer pong’s 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. “let’s go. loser does a shot.”

sukuna smirks, rolling up his sleeves. “you’re on.”

they start playing, drawing a small crowd of girls who cheer and giggle at every throw. toji’s 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, they’re tied. toji wins one, sukuna the other. the girls watching don’t seem to care who’s winning they’re 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.

“you guys are, like, scary good at this,” she says, voice high and flirty.

“practice,” sukuna says automatically. his smirk looks real enough. it always does.

her nails trace the edge of his sleeve, and she leans closer. “bet you’re real good at other things too.”

normally, this is the part where he’d 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 doesn’t 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 you’d never lean on someone like this. how you’d never grab at someone you just met. how when you talked, you actually meant what you said.

his jaw tightens.

toji’s already got two girls around him, laughing loudly, drink in one hand, the other at someone’s waist. he looks like he’s 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 can’t stop thinking about you.

he pictures your small smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re 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 you’d react if you saw this.

if you saw toji right now, grinning, drunk, hands everywhere.

you’d look crushed. maybe not outwardly, but he knows you’d 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.

you’d be heartbroken over a guy like toji. and he hates that. hates it enough that his fake smirk starts to slip.

because toji’s the one you wanted. and toji’s 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.

“you good?” she asks, pouting a little.

“yeah,” he mutters. “just need a smoke.”

he grabs a beer from the counter and makes his way outside.

the air’s 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 party’s still raging. someone shouts, laughter echoing off the walls. he hears toji’s 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.

why’s he even thinking about you like this?

you're just a girl. just a project partner. you needed his help, he needed yours. that’s all it was supposed to be.

but then he remembers how you'd smiled when he showed up on time for once, how you’d brought him that stupid cup of coffee just because you thought he’d like it. how careful you’d been, shy but trying.

and now he’s here, surrounded by everything he used to want, feeling nothing but restless.

he thinks about the library tomorrow morning.

you’d be there early. you always are. waiting at the same table, your notebook open, your pen tapping as you concentrate. you’d look up when he walks in, offer that small, quiet smile like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

the thought of showing up hungover makes his stomach knot.

he can’t let you see him like that. not reeking of beer, not bleary eyed and dead from a night he didn’t even enjoy.

he flicks the ash off his cigarette, curses under his breath.

“what the fuck am i doing?”

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 isn’t him. at least, it’s not the version of him you’ve seen. the one who actually listens, who tries, who stays sober enough to remember what you said about catalysts and reactions. the one you’ve somehow turned him into without even knowing.

he huffs out a quiet laugh, bitter and low.

you’d 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.

“yo,” toji calls over. “where the hell’d you go?”

“m' heading out,” sukuna says. “got shit to do tomorrow.”

toji raises a brow. “it’s friday, man.”

“yeah. i know.”

“whatever,” toji laughs. “your loss.”

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 won’t stop racing.

he thinks about you again, about how small you look sitting behind your laptop, about the way you focus so hard you don’t notice him staring sometimes. about how quiet the world feels when it’s just the two of you in that corner of the library.

you’d 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 it’s not just that anymore.

he doesn’t want to look sober. he wants to look good for you.

he wants you to think he’s 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 empty—most of the guys are still at the mixer. it’s 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 desk’s 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.

“fuck,” 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 doesn’t feel like just another day. it feels like something he’s 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. everyone’s 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.

he’s awake.

he’s the only one who doesn’t 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 that’s 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, someone’s shoe on the counter, a guy in nothing but boxers drooling into the carpet, and shakes his head.

he’s not sticking around for the aftermath.

there’s 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.

“yo,” one of them croaks. “where the hell are you going? it’s like… eight?”

“got plans,” sukuna says, slipping on his sneakers.

“plans?” another mumbles, half-asleep. “with who?”

“no one,” sukuna says quickly. “don’t worry about it.”

he’s 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. everything’s washed in soft gold light, the kind that makes the world look cleaner than it really is.

he starts walking.

there’s a bounce in his step that he tries to ignore. it feels stupid to feel this way. giddy. like he’s got something worth looking forward to. he tells himself it’s just because he didn’t drink last night. he’s clear-headed. alert. that’s all.

but he knows it’s a lie.

the café comes into view just down the block. it’s the one you always go to, the one with the green sign. he remembers the first time he saw you there, hunched over your laptop with a coffee that had already gone cold, scribbling in your notebook like the world might end if you looked up.

the memory makes his chest feel weird.

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.

“one of those,” 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.

you’ll already have one right now, you always do.

“nah,” he says, shaking his head. “js' the pastry.”

he walks out with the small paper bag in hand, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

he feels ridiculous. it’s a fucking pastry. but somehow it feels like more than that. like he’s carrying a confession.

when the library comes into view, he spots you right away.

you’re there, in your usual spot. that back table near the window, the one you’ve claimed without ever really saying so. your coffee’s beside your laptop, steam curling up faintly. you’re biting your lip, eyes narrowed in concentration as you read through something.

and god, you’re cute.

it slaps him all over again.

the way your hair falls forward, the soft sweater you’re wearing, the tiny crease between your brows. you’re not trying to be anything. you’re just there, focused, quiet, real.

he stands there for a second, just watching.

then he remembers himself and walks over.

“g'morning,” he says.

you look up, startled, then your whole face softens when you see him. “oh, hi! you’re early.”

“yeah,” he says, dropping his bag into the chair across from you. “didn't wanna sleep in today.”

you laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “fair.”

he pulls the paper bag from his hoodie pocket and slides it across the table.

he holds it out to you. “for you. figured you might want breakfast.”

you blink, startled. “wait, really?”

“yeah. it’s from that cafe you like.”

your mouth falls open slightly, and your cheeks go pink in that way he’s starting to adore. “you... remembered that?”

“guess so.”

you take the bag from him carefully, like it’s something fragile. when you peek inside and see what it is, your expression softens even more.

“oh my god,” you whisper, smiling so hard your eyes crinkle at the corners. “this is my favorite one.”

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.

“you didn’t have to! really, that’s so sweet of you.”

“it’s nothing,” he says, but his voice is rougher than he means it to be. “just figured you might be hungry.” he softens.

you look down, still smiling. “thank you.”

and it hits him, how long it’s 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 he’s not really listening. he’s 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 it’s become a routine.

and then, without warning, you bring up toji.

you clear your throat first, eyes flicking down to your notes. “so, um... toji.”

he stills, one brow lifting, you were finally gonna talk about him since that awful run in last time. “hmm?”

“he’s… very…” you trail off, searching for the word. “loud.”

he snorts. “that’s one way to put it.”

“and, um, big. like, physically. and personality-wise. very… confident.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “yeah. sorry about that. he’s… a lot. again, i didn’t mean to unleash him on you like that.” he was apologising again, so out of character for him but he couldn't help it. not with you.

“no, no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “he’s just… different than i expected.”

“different how?”

you hesitate, chewing your lip. “i guess i thought he’d be more like you.”

the words hang between you for a second. his pulse stutters.

“like me, huh?” he says, teasing, leaning back in his chair, spread wide as he looks you up and down. “what’s that supposed to mean, hm?”

you go red instantly, trying to drag your eyes away from his man spread legs. “i just meant- you’re, um, thoughtful. more focused. not overbearing, you're nice...”

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.

“so you like my type better?”

“that’s not what i said,” you mumble, covering your face with your hand again.

“didn’t have to.”

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.

“you’re bullying me,” you say, your voice small.

“maybe.”

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, “so… you still interested in him? toji, i mean.”

you freeze.

“i.. uh.” your voice falters. “i guess so? i... i don’t know.”

“you don’t sound sure.”

“he’s just, not what i thought he’d be. i thought he’d be a little calmer.”

“he’s not really the type to surprise you in a good way,” sukuna says.

you smile faintly, eyes on your cup. “yeah. maybe not.”

the way you say it, soft, thoughtful, uncertain, it makes his chest ache.

you’re too sweet for this. too genuine. you deserve someone who actually listens, who doesn’t treat you like background noise. and for some reason, he hates that the person you’re hung up on is his best friend.

he sighs, rubbing his jaw.

you look up, curious. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” he says, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

you nod, and the two of you fall back into quiet work. it’s 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.

“we got a lot done,” you say, smiling.

“yeah,” he says, though he can’t 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.

“thank you,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “for breakfast. and for helping me.”

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 you’ve just caused.

“see you tomorrow?”

“yeah!” he says quickly, way too excited. “d-definitely.”

you wave and head out, the door swinging shut behind you.

he stands there for a full minute, still staring at the spot you’d 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 he’s 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.

“get it together,” 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 heartbeat’s 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.

he’s in trouble.

he knows it.

because he can’t stop smiling.

~

the gym in the frat house isn’t much. it’s 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 “home gym,” but it’s 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.

he’s 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 you’re trying not to blush.

it’s 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.

“fuck,” 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 you’d confessed to him like it was nothing.

he leans forward, elbows on his knees, towel hanging loosely around his neck. he can’t keep fucking around pretending like this is going to work anymore.

he can’t sit through another study session with you knowing that toji knows you're into him.

toji doesn’t 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.

you’re too good for that. too damn good.

he picks up the dumbbell again, trying to lift through the frustration, but his mind keeps racing. toji’s face flashes in his mind—the obnoxiousness, his interest in you only after finding out what you looked like.

the memory makes his jaw clench.

toji doesn’t 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.

he’s 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 toji’s room.

the door’s half-shut, light spilling from the gap, and he doesn’t bother knocking. he pushes it open, the wood hitting the wall with a dull thud.

toji’s sprawled across his bed, shirtless, scrolling through his phone. there’s a protein shake on the desk, a game controller tangled in the sheets. he looks up lazily when sukuna appears.

“yo,” he says, grinning. “you look pissed. what, satoru stealing your shirts n' shit again?”

sukuna doesn’t answer. he stands there for half a second, jaw tight, and then the words just fall out before he can stop them.

“y/n has a boyfriend,” he blurts. “so you can forget the whole crush on you thing.”

toji blinks, confused. “uhm?”

“what,” sukuna says, crossing his arms. “shes got a guy.”

toji sits up slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “who’s y/n again?”

the silence that follows is deafening.

sukuna stares at him, the vein in his temple twitching.

“are you actually deadass right now?”

toji shrugs. “bro, i talk to a lot of girls, you gotta be more specific.”

that’s it.

sukuna drags a hand down his face, muttering something that sounds halfway between a growl and a groan. he doesn’t even bother explaining. it’s not worth it.

“don't worry, man,” 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.

“who’s y/n again?”

the words echo in his mind like a bad joke.

he can’t believe it. he can’t believe he ever thought this was a good idea, trying to set you up with that idiot.

it’s not even about the deal anymore. it’s 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 it’s not just because you’re pretty, though god, you are. it’s because you’re kind. because you make him feel human again, in a way that nothing else ever does. because you talk to him like he’s worth something more than the reputation that follows him.

he doesn’t know when it happened, but it’s there now, and it’s not going away.

.

the weeks that follow move in a blur. the two of you keep meeting for study sessions, but they’ve shifted. so subtly that neither of you seems to notice.

you’re more relaxed now. you smile more, laugh easier. you’ve 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, he’s having a spaz out.

and every time he brings you something in return, you light up like he’s handed you the world.

you’ve started talking about more than the project. now, it’s 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 you’re sitting side by side at the library, your knees brush under the table. it’s barely a touch, accidental every time, but it makes his pulse stutter.

you’ve 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, he’s crashing out so hard.

one afternoon, it’s 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 he’s never seen one before.

“it’s not that weird,” you say, smiling. “i thought you might want something warm and sweet for this type of weather.”

he looks at you for a long moment trying not to stare at your see through chest, then takes the cup. “thanks,” 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. it’s 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 that’s half longing and half fear.

he knows he’s in wayyy too deep.

but he can't stop.

you’ve started coming out of your shell in little bursts. you tease him now, gently. you call him out when he’s being lazy, roll your eyes when he tries to act too chill. and he eats it the fuck up. every second of it.

you’re 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. it’s like neither of you really care about it anymore.

and maybe that’s the truth. maybe it stopped mattering the moment you started looking at him like that.

one evening, when the sun’s setting, you’re sitting across from him at the library, talking about nothing in particular. you’re smiling, head tilted, your voice soft. and he catches himself staring, not hearing a single word.

you stop mid way through your sentence, blinking. “what?”

he shakes his head quickly. “nothing.”

“you’re staring,” you say, cheeks pink.

“you’re imagining things, honey."

you laugh, hiding your face in your hands.

he smiles too, but there’s something behind it something he doesn’t let you see.

because in that moment, it hits him all over again, stronger than before.

he’s seriously can't do this shit any longer.

he doesn’t want to help you get to toji anymore.

he doesn’t 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 he’s learned by heart.

he wants to be the one who gets to see every part of you, every version of that soft, sweet girl who’s been slowly unraveling in front of him.

and he knows, deep down, that if he ever let himself say it out loud, he’d 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.

“thanks again,” you say softly.

he nods. “anytime.”

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.

he’s ruined. completely.

and for once in his life, he doesn’t 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 time’s been stretched too thin. the chemistry teacher’s voice cuts through it all, cheerful but distant.

“alright, everyone, just a quick reminder that your paired assignment is due at the end of this week. make sure you’ve got everything finalized. i’ll be checking submissions on friday.”

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. he’s 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 you’ve fallen into, the study sessions, the walks home, the quiet coffees before class? it’s been built around this assignment. and when the assignment ends, what happens then?

he taps his pen against his notebook, looking away first. “guess we’re almost done, huh?”

you try to sound light. “yeah… crazy how fast it went.”

but it doesn’t 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. “we should probably go over everything one more time. make sure it’s perfect.”

you nod, pretending to check the notes in front of you. “mhm, library after class?”

“yeah,” he says. “one last session.”

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 hair’s 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. it’s 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 it’s impossible to think about chemistry when he’s right there.

he’s quieter than usual too. his knee bounces under the table, a restless rhythm, and every now and then you catch him glancing up, like he’s about to say something but decides against it.

the silence stretches between you, thick and loaded. you can’t stand it anymore.

“so…” you start, voice softer than you mean it to be.

he looks up instantly, like he’s been waiting for you to speak. “yeah?”

you open your mouth, close it again, glance at your hands. “never mind. it’s nothing.”

he frowns slightly. “come on. what is it?”

you shake your head, forcing a small smile. “seriously, it’s nothing. just focus.”

he watches you for a second longer, then sighs and leans back, crossing his arms. “fine. but you’re acting weird.”

you let out a soft laugh that sounds too nervous. “i could say the same about you.”

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 can’t stop thinking about him instead. how every time he looks at you, your whole chest feels like it’s about to give out.

you glance up. he’s staring at his screen, jaw tight, eyes unfocused. and somehow, you can tell he’s holding something back too.

finally, you both move at the same time.

“i have to tell you something,” you say, right as he says, “there’s something i should tell you.”

you both stop, eyes locking.

you laugh softly. “you first.”

he shakes his head. “nuh uh, you first.”

“no way,” you say, smiling now despite the nerves. “you looked like you were about to explode. go ahead.”

“ladies first,” he shoots back, that teasing lilt returning to his voice, though his eyes are still serious.

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s hammering. “fine,” you breathe.

he leans forward, forearms on the table, watching you carefully.

you swallow, your fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve. “okay. so, um… this is kind of embarrassing, but.."

you stop, take a breath, try again. “it's about toji.”

his expression flickers for a second, something unreadable crossing his face. “yeah,” he says slowly. “what about him?”

you toy with a pen to keep your hands busy. “i don’t really… feel that way anymore. about him.”

his brow lifts just slightly, his voice careful. “ts' that so?”

you nod, cheeks warm. “yeah. i mean, it was kind of silly, wasn’t 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 he’s… kinda clapped, nothing like what i imagined.”

he lets out a small sound, something close to a laugh, but it’s quiet, almost nervous. “yeah, that sounds like him.”

you smile faintly, tracing a finger along the edge of your notebook. “the truth is, i think i was just projecting. when we started hanging out, i didn’t know you that well, and i guess i thought maybe toji was like you. you know? confident, funny, easy to talk to.” you pause, your gaze flicking up to his. “but he’s not you. not even remotely close.”

his breath catches slightly, and for a moment, he forgets how to speak.

“i don’t know,” you go on, voice softer now, almost trembling. “i kept thinking i wanted someone like toji, but… the whole time, i was really just wishing he’d be more like you, sukuna.”

you meet his eyes fully now, and the world seems to narrow around you both. “and then i realised maybe i don’t want someone like you. maybe i just, you know, want you.”

the silence that follows feels endless.

he’s 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. “that sounded so stupid, didn’t it?”

he shakes his head quickly. “no. no, not at all.”

he leans back in his chair, letting out a long, shaky exhale. it’s the biggest breath of relief you’ve ever seen someone take. he runs a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath, a sound that’s half disbelieving, half overwhelmed.

“holy shit,” he murmurs, still smiling. “you have no idea how good it is to hear that.”

you blink. “uhm, what?”

he laughs again, softer this time, his hand still pressed to the back of his neck. “that’s what i was gonna tell you. i’ve been losing my fucking mind these past few weeks because i’ve been trying so hard not to say it.”

you stare at him, your heart pounding. “say what?”

he meets your gaze again, eyes warm and honest. “that i like you. like, really like you. i’ve had this massive crush on you for a while now, and it’s been killing me trying to act normal.”

you can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, part disbelief, part giddy joy. “you’re deadass?”

he nods. “one hundred percent.”

“but… the deal,” you say quietly. “you were supposed to help me with toji.”

“yeah, about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “i kinda… just didn’t.”

you tilt your head. “uhhm, what?”

he laughs again, nervously this time. “i told him you had a boyfriend.”

your eyes widen. “you did?"

he winces. “yeah. i told him that weeks ago. i just... i couldn’t do it anymore. couldn’t keep pretending i was helping you get with him when all i wanted was to keep you all to myself.”

you blink once, twice, then cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. “you told him i had a boyfriend?”

“yep.” he grins now, a little cocky, a little embarrassed. “guess that’s me sabotaging the deal.”

you drop your hand, still smiling. “that’s so stupid.”

“i know.”

“but…” you pause, your smile turning softer. “it’s kind of sweet.”

he leans forward again, elbows on the table, eyes never leaving yours. “you’re not mad?”

“mad?” you repeat, shaking your head. “no. that’s… exactly what i wanted, actually.”

he blinks. “really?”

you nod, heart in your throat. “yeah. i didn’t want you helping me with toji. not anymore. i just didn’t know how to tell you.”

he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “so what now?”

you smile. “i don’t know. maybe we just… stop pretending.”

he exhales, leaning back with a grin that could light up the whole room. “i can do that.”

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. “for the record, i was terrified you were about to tell me you had a new man for real.”

you laugh softly. “no chance.”

“good,” he says, and the way he looks at you soft, sure, a little possessive, makes your pulse race.

you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re both leaning across the table, closer than you’ve 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 don’t need to.

the moment stretches, slow and sweet, full of everything you’ve 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 he’s 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.

“alright, everyone,” she says, her tone almost teasing. “i’ve marked your projects. you’ll get the official grades through the online portal, but since i know you’re all impatient,” her gaze sweeps the room, landing briefly on you and sukuna, “i’ll let you know this much: some of you really impressed me.”

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. you’re clutching your phone, refreshing the student portal again and again even though the grades still aren’t visible. sukuna leans close, peering at your screen.

“nothing yet?” he asks.

“no,” you sigh. “probably another hour.”

he tilts his head, thinking for a moment. “want to check it together later? at that little cafe with the green sign?”

you blink. “awe, my favourite. sure!”

“of course,” he says, smirking lightly. “how good am i remembering your favourite things n' shit.”

you laugh, cheeks warming. “what a man. how about we meet there at five?”

“five it is.” he gives a small wave as he heads down the hall. “see you then, partner.”

the cafe smells like roasted coffee beans and sugar, the air humming with quiet conversation and the clinking of ceramic cups. it’s 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 hair’s 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 it’s second nature.

“hey,” he says as you approach.

“hey,” you echo, sliding into the seat across from him.

he gestures toward the counter. “i already ordered for us. black coffee for me, that thing you like for you, and...” he grins, “...a pastry, because apparently you can’t sit in this place without one.”

you laugh softly, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. “you know me too well, we needa' hang out less.”

“noo,” he teases, leaning back. “i'm just an observer.”

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. “holy shit,” he mutters.

you look up sharply. “what?”

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.

“oh my-” you say, grinning from ear to ear. “ninety-eight?”

he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “holy shit- holy shit! can’t believe it,” he says, half-laughing, half-sighing in disbelief. “i actually passed. i can stay in the frat. holy shit.”

you laugh again, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably. “i told you you’d do fine!”

he stands up suddenly, still laughing, and before you can react he pulls you into his arms. it’s 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.

“thank you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low, almost breathless. “thank you so much for helping me. i would’ve completely fucking tanked without you.”

you laugh against his shoulder, feeling your own face heat up. “you’re welcome,” you mumble, your words muffled by his hoodie. “you did so good, really.”

when he finally lets go, you can still feel the warmth lingering where he’d held you. he looks just as flustered, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits back down.

“sorry,” he says, half-smiling. “got a little carried away.”

“it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. “it was… nice.”

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 world’s slowed down just for the two of you.

“so,” he says eventually, voice softer now, “ninety-eight percent. that's so peak."

“yeah, we did that,” you reply, smiling. “you’ll probably get a compliment from the teacher next class.”

“you too,” he says. “you carried me, you're actually so clutch.”

“you helped too,” you insist. “you actually tried, sukuna. that’s what mattered.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, but even if i hadn’t passed…” he pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “i don’t think i’d be too upset.”

you tilt your head, smiling faintly. “no?”

“nah.” he leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “because i got to spend all that time with you. and honestly? that made it worth it.”

your chest tightens, a flutter rising under your ribs. you look down quickly, pretending to focus on your coffee. “you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” he says firmly. “you made studying actually fun. no one’s ever done that shit before.”

you look up again, and his expression is so genuine, so open, that you forget how to breathe for a second.

“well,” you say softly, “i liked spending time with you too.”

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 there’s a question there, unspoken but clear.

he smiles, almost shyly, a rare thing for him. “so… what now?”

you shrug lightly, but your smile mirrors his. “i don’t know. i guess we don’t have to stop hanging out just because the project’s done.”

his grin grows wider, and you can see the faintest pink dusting his ears. “good,” he says. “because i was kinda hoping you’d say that.”

he hesitates for a moment, then sits up a little straighter, as if gathering courage.

“actually,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the edge of his cup, “there’s something i wanted to ask.”

you tilt your head. “hmm? and what’s that?”

he exhales slowly, eyes locked on yours. “i know this is probably cheesy as hell, but… i’d really like to take you out. like, properly. dinner, movie, whatever you want. an actual date.”

the words sink in, soft and certain. you blink, surprised but instantly smiling, your cheeks growing hot.

“you mean… like, a date date?” you ask, teasing just a little.

he laughs under his breath. “yeah. a date date.”

you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “i’d love that.”

his expression softens into something that almost makes your heart ache. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

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. “good,” he says. “i was worried you’d say no.”

you shake your head, still smiling. “never.”

the light outside shifts slowly, spilling gold through the window, painting his skin in soft warmth. he looks at you like he’s 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 can’t quite believe his luck, you know that whatever comes next, it’s 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, you’re his. officially his. and he’s 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 who’s out of beer, the smell of cheap cologne and pizza hanging in the air.

you pause in the doorway, clutching sukuna’s hand like it’s an anchor. he glances down at you with that little smirk that never fails to make your heart stutter.

“don’t stress it baby,” he murmurs, leaning close enough that his breath grazes your ear. “they’ll love you.”

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.

satoru’s 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, “holy shit, sukuna actually brought a girl here voluntarily?”

“shut up,” sukuna grumbles, tightening his grip on your hand. “this one’s permanent.”

that earns a chorus of oohs and whistles from the guys nearby. your face burns, but when you glance up at sukuna, he’s smiling,not his usual cocky grin, but something softer. proud.

“hey,” you mumble under your breath, “it smells so bad in here, ryo.”

he chuckles quietly. “you’ll get used to it.”

before you can even respond, toji appears from the kitchen, a beer in hand and a knowing grin on his face. “well, if it isn’t the little chem genius.”

you blink. “you… remember me?”

“of course,” toji laughs, setting his drink down and stretching out a hand. “heard you saved this idiot’s academic career.”

“hey,” sukuna cuts in, rolling his eyes. “i wasn’t that bad.”

“you had an eight percent, bro.”

the whole room bursts into laughter. sukuna just grumbles and flips toji off while you try not to giggle too loudly. it’s strange, seeing them all like this. so loud, so chaotic, so different from the quiet rhythm you’re used to, but somehow, it feels okay. you feel okay.

by the end of the night, you’re sitting between sukuna’s 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 doesn’t feel intimidating. it feels warm. welcoming.

satoru catches your eye from across the room, giving a thumbs up before mouthing, she’s 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.

“told you they’d love you,” he whispers.

“yeah, you were right,” you murmur, smiling softly. “they’re so nice.”

“you’re even nicer,” he says, his voice barely audible. “that’s why they love ya'.”

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. he’s 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 you’ve never been to before, teaches you how to play pool (terribly, but he doesn’t 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 he’s never told anyone else—about his parents, about the pressure to be someone bigger, stronger, louder. about how he never really cared about anything before he met you.

“you made me start giving a shit,” he says one night, his voice low as he traces lazy circles against your palm. “about school, about the future. about being a better guy.”

you glance up at him, smiling faintly. “you're the bestest guy, kuna.”

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 he’d still be happy just holding you against his muscular chest.

word gets around campus fast. whispers follow you sometimes. half disbelief, half awe. people don’t 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.

you’ve seen the way people look at you two when you walk hand in hand across campus, his tall frame towering beside yours. you’ve heard the murmurs, 'how long do you think it’ll last, she’s too good for him, he’ll 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 it’s too crisp. the one who never forgets to text you goodnight, even when he’s exhausted.

the one who stopped showing up to most frat partys because, as he put it, “none of it’s fun without you anyway.”

you see it in the way he’s changed. not because you asked him to, but because he wants to.

he doesn’t flirt with girls anymore. he doesn’t 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 it’s not just the big things that show it. it’s 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 he’ll pull you closer when you’re out together, even if it’s just to rest his big hand on your hip.

he doesn’t talk about feelings much, not directly. but in every gesture, every glance, it’s there.

you’re 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. it’s a candid, one of those moments you didn’t 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 it’s his favorite picture in the world.

“you look so fucking cute, and happy,” he tells you when you catch him staring at it one night.

“i am happy,” you reply softly.

“better be,” he says. “that’s all i ever want for you, y/n.”

some nights, he stays over at your apartment instead of the frat. he always claims it’s because it’s quieter, easier to focus on studying. but you both know it’s just because he sleeps better when you’re beside him.

you cook together sometimes, though “cook” 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 he’s on master chef. you can’t stay mad when he grins at you with flour on his cheek, his dimples showing as he holds up a misshapen cookie.

“hey, we’re improvin',” he says.

“barely,” you reply, giggling.

he just leans down, presses a quick kiss to your nose, and murmurs, “yeah, but you’re still here, so i must be doing somethin' right.”

there are still parties, of course, he’s still in the frat, and sometimes showing up is expected. but it’s 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 doesn’t 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 music’s too loud and the air too heavy with alcohol and perfume, he’ll lean down and whisper, “wanna get out of here?”

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 didn’t 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.

“remember when we first started that project?” you ask one day, laughing softly. “you barely knew what a periodic table was.”

“hey,” he says, pretending to be offended. “i knew what it was. i just didn’t give a shit.”

“hmm, and now you’re pulling straight a’s.”

he grins. “guess i had a real good tutor. she's real sexy, too..”

you bump his shoulder lightly. “awe i bet she'd be real flattered to hear that.”

he stops walking for a moment, looking down at you with that same warm, unguarded look that still makes your stomach flip.

“you know something?” he says quietly.

“hmm?”

“i still think that fuckass project was the best thing that's ever happened to lil' ol' me.”

you smile, reaching up to fix the collar of his jacket. “yeah?”

“hell yeah,” he murmurs, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours. “because it led me to you.”

the world fades for a moment, the cold, the noise, the people around you, and it’s just him. just you.

when he kisses you, it’s slow, steady, full of all the fuzzy romantic fire that’s 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 can’t help but think how far you’ve 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.

you’ve both found exactly where you’re meant to be, with each other.

chemically bonded headcanons <— here!

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

mean!sukuna x shy!gf!reader

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.

you’re 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 you’re scared, but because you know that kind of sound. it’s 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.

“hey, ryo.” you say in that soft, dainty voice he still hasn’t 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 he’s tired and really agitated. “i got dinner all ready for you, love.”

he grunts, that’s 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.

“th' fucks this supposed to be?”

you stiffen up a lil. “it's… your dinner?”

you watch as his eyes fall darker and his fists clench. “what? you know i don’t eat before i shower. you put the whole thing together just to let it get cold?”

...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. “i… i thought you’d want it now because you always say you’re starving when you get back…” you whisper.

“yeah? well, today i’m not fucking hungry.” his voice rises in a way it never has with you. a way he used to talk to girls who’d scream right back at him, get in his face, throw something at the wall. “god, do you ever listen?”

"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..

“honestly, 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,” 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?..

he’s not looking at you. he’s talking at you, like you’re just another outlet for whatever’s eating at him. this big, loud, overwhelming presence filling your little apartment with his booming voice rising and rising with each word, and you can’t even process half the things he’s saying because your brain is doing that fuzzy weird panicy thing. you don’t 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!”

...

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 it’s 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 don’t.

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..

“...i’m so sorry.”

ryo's ready to yell something completely unnecessary and rude because he’s still riding the high of adrenaline from lifting too much and dealing with that asshole at the gym today. he’s still acting like he’s dealing with someone who’ll 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 you’re scared you'd messed up big time, like you’re scared you hurt him or made him upset in any way. like you’re 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 didn’t 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.

“sweetheart,” he says, but it’s 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.

“i... i’m really sorry,” you whisper again, voice cracking in that heart stabbing kind of way. “i didn’t mean to make you mad, i was just trying trying to help, i thought you’d 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 you’re apologizing to him even though you didn’t 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 didn’t notice. god, he didn’t realise! he was yelling. at you. his pretty girl, his soft girl.

the only girl he’s ever dated who doesn’t 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 who’d 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 you’re giving him space to push you off if he wants to. you whisper again in a smaller voice than before.

“i’m sorry. i’m really sorry, ryo. i didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

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..

“baby, no. no, no, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. i’m the one who’s being a fucking idiot. i shouldn’t have yelled. i shouldn’t have even raised my voice at you, baby.. shit.”

you can feel his biceps crushing you tighter. he’s huge and so warm, yet trembling in the tiniest way, like he’s 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 you’ve 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. “i’m sorry i messed up. i’m sorry you had a bad day and i made it worse.”

oh he’s the worst man alive. actually the worst. he can feel it in his bones.

“baby…” his voice cracks again and he hates it but he can’t stop it. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

you cling a little tighter, like you’re scared he’s gonna pull away. that alone almost makes him sob hysterically on the spot.

your voice comes out all wobbly. “i just… i don’t want you to be mad at me.”

fuuuck..

that’s the moment sukuna’s entire psyche caves in on itself and implodes indefinitely.

“god, y/n,” he whispers. “i’m so, so sorry.”

the apartment goes still and quiet for a good minute before you can whisper out, “it’s okay...”

“no,” he says immediately,“ no, it’s not. i shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. i shouldn’t have said any of that. i just… i had a shitty day and i was being a dick. that’s on me. you didn’t make anything worse.”

“but you seemed so upset…”

“oh my love, not at you.” he swallows “never at you, baby. i swear.”

...

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, he’s not letting you go until he’s sure you're really okay.

“you’re… you’re really precious to me,” he whispers into your hair, the words tumbling out before he can stop them, way too honest for how he normally talks. “i don’t ever wanna scare you. i don’t ever wanna make you cry because of me.”

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. “ryo…? d-did i make you upset?- i'm so sorry!”

he shakes his head quickly, gripping the back of your head as he tucks you back under his chin. “you didn't do anything, y/n. just don’t look at me right now,” he mutters. “just… let me hold you.”

you mumble a quick “okay.”

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.

“cmon angel,” he mumbles against your forehead in a sweet kiss, “let’s get you in bed.”

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. he’s acting like he's scared you’re gonna get cold or crumble into star dust if he doesn’t wrap you up right this second.

“stay here, sweetheart,” he says while brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “i’m gonna eat your dinner real quick and shower and then i’m coming right back. don’t move.”

you nod with your body engulfed under the blankets, and he gives you one last kiss on the cheek before heading back out.

it’s almost funny how different the apartment sounds now, he’s 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 he’s scolding his own reflection, which he should be. then you hear the shower switch on, and everything is chaotic as if he’s racing against some imaginary clock because you’re alone in the bed for more than five minutes and that simply will not do for sukuna.

you hear the bathroom door whip open.

he’s 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 didn’t 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.

“hey baby.. are you okay?”

you nod softly, but he shushes you anyway.

“it’s alright,” he smiles, kissing the side of your neck. “you don’t gotta say anything. i got you.”

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 he’s capable of, ever. your tears dried a long while ago, but he still treats you like you’re a precious gem. he rocks you a little in his lap, soothing you like it’s instinct.

“you’re so beautiful, yknow that?” he whispers suddenly, voice hushed like he’s telling you a secret not meant for the rest of the world. “so damn beautiful and sweet and good. you’re… y/n, you’re so perfect.”

you feel your cheeks heat up and he smiles against your skin, just barely.

“i mean it,” he says again, burying his face into your shoulder. “you’re precious to me, baby. so precious i don’t even know what to do with myself sometimes.”

yeah, obviously.

you lean back into him a little more and your hands settle over his wrists. he squeezes you immediately like he’s 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.

“you’re it for me,” he murmurs. “you hear me? you’re it. i’m done with dating. i’m yours for the rest of my damn life.”

you blush deeply and hide your face in your hands at how bold he's being.

"ryo..."

“i’m never talking to you like that again,” he says quietly. “never yelling. never making you cry. i’m not losing you because i don’t know how to deal with my dumbass moods. you’re too important to me.”

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.

“you’re my girl,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “forever, or for as long as you’ll have me, baby."

he rocks you gently again, humming in his throat while his hands smooth and stroke over you like he’s memorising the shape of you.

he presses one last kiss to your cheek.

“sleep, angel,” he breathes. “i’m not going anywhere.”

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 ❤️ u guys 🥀

m.list 😈👅😫💔

[hoesluvshoko]

boyfriend sukuna x pregnant reader blurb

contains: fluff

wc: 382

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 🤏 close to letting the next man i see on the street get me pregnant

[ryosbaby-deactivated20260215]

hockeykuna coming to you after a bad game

read more of him? one. two

the game was a disaster to say the least.

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 alone—tripping, roughing, some bullshit call that barely counted. the refs were on him the entire night.

his teammates didn’t 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 didn’t watch the game.

sukuna did send you tickets but you didn't feel like going out tonight. you’re at your desk, half-focused, pencil dragging across notes you’ve read three times, then there’s a knock. light and sharp which you ignore at first.

another knock. harder.

“okay okay—hold on,” you mutter, pushing your chair back.

he’s there when you open the door. visibly tired, hair still damp, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he obviously hasn't freshened up.

“you didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

“i did,” he mutters. “texted five times tonight. you didn’t answer.”

“you did?” you check your phone. “…must’ve put it on dnd.”

he doesn’t 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.

“bad game?” you ask quietly.

“…don’t even start,” he mutters, voice low, tired. “…three penalties. first period. refs had it out for me. team played straight up fucking ass too."

you don’t respond. fingers comb through his damp strands.

he shifts slightly, pressing his head into your lap a little more, heavy, like he’s carrying all the frustration there instead of anywhere else. his hand scrapes along the floor, restless, fingers flexing, muttering under his breath. “can’t even focus. can’t even think straight.”

“do you want me to help?” you ask, hand still threading through his damp hair.

“sex? no." he mutters, “i mean i'd love to—but 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.

“im mostly asking for you but i'm tired too. i’m sorry i missed it. i was too tired to go out tonight.”

“it’s fine,” he says, shifting just slightly, pressing his head closer, resting it on your thigh. “i 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, “hey,” you murmur softly, just a little, “season’s not over. you guys are still going to play."

“yeah, yeah, whatever. doesn’t feel like it. if everybody keeps playing like this we might as well get ready for the next season.” he mutters, voice clipped, muttering half to himself, half into the quiet. “i hate losing like that. hate feeling like i can’t do anything right. its a lingering feeling that refuses to go away."

“usually i’d get high to shut it off,” he continues, lips brushing lightly against your thigh again. “…can’t really afford to fuck up my system right now though.” another soft, lazy kiss.

“am i an alternative then?”

“something like that,”

he shifts slightly, forehead nudging, “…i’m probably gonna crash here. that okay?”

"yea of course."

“what’d you do today?” 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.

“uhh only had two classes today so i went home early."

“that's morning, no? did you eat breakfast before leaving?” 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.

“yeah. something quick,” you say, “cereal.”

“…and lunch?”

“lunch with shoko.”

“mmm, anything else?”

“watched a buncha law and order episodes.”

“i told you to wait for me on that one,” he clicks his tongue.

“different show,” you answered, “the one we started together was dexter.”

“that so?" tilting his head maybe he's more zone out than he think he is. “did you eat dinner at least?”

“yeah, instant noodles.”

“that’s not dinner,” he scoffs.

“hey, i’m on a budget,” you tease. “tutoring is usually bad after exams.”

“do you want me to fail again?” he asks, fingers flexing against your calf. “that way you have an excuse to tutor me."

“nope,” you answer instantly. “i’d look stupid wasting my time teaching you. you're smarter than me now."

he chuckles low, satisfied, presses another lazy kiss against your thigh. “never. never smarter than you. your sexy smart brain is something else."

“a brain can be sexy?" you raise an eyebrow.

“hell yeah,” he continues, “i get hard whenever you start talking about numbers and measurements."

“weirdo."

“that mouth too” he adds, “love it when you turn into a mouthy bitch."

“i'll bite you." you joke.

“kinky," sukuna grumbles, “i'm so turned on right now.”

“you're a mess ryo.” you sigh, smiling faintly.

sukuna just hums, satisfied, finally stilling. “…best part of today,” he mutters, “…is this.”

he presses one last soft kiss to your knee, lets out a soft breath.

“wrap up early,” he mutters, voice low, tired. “i’m moving to your bed.”

“i will,” you murmur.

he moves wordlessly to your bed, slides under the blanket, curls onto his side, pulls it up around himself.

“…if anybody calls me tomorrow morning and i’m still asleep, don’t pick up. okay?”

“got it,” you say.

“also, would prefer it if i wake up and you’re still in bed,” he adds, voice low. "you have a habit of acting like a one night stand."

“demanding,”

he hums, presses his face into the pillow, and within minutes, he’s asleep. deep, steady breathing, completely out, done for the night.

a/n: poll

[sweetieelilii]

⸝⸝⸝ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 w/ reader who never had gentle parents

you expected kento to yell back at you. argue. to hit you—though 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.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, deep and soothing, as if you hadn’t just yelled at him for the stupidest things ever.

and suddenly? you’re sobbing in his arms.

he didn’t tell you to calm down or that you were wrong. he just…told you it was okay?

like your broken temper wasn’t a problem at all. god. what was wrong with you?

“nothing’s wrong with you, honey.”

fuck. you’d 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 hadn’t even realized that wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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, he’d 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 waiting…even if a part of you knew that wasn’t true at all.

kento’s shoulders had stiffened. not even with anger, but with clear exhaustion—and that had only made it worse for you for some stupid reason.

you were used to being told you didn’t 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.

you’d 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 wasn’t 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 you’d tried your best to hold your past in. you’ve never looked like this before.

“hey,” he called out, softer than you deserved. “slow down.”

that’s when he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.

it wasn’t 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 didn’t mean it. that you didn’t want to scare him. that you hated yourself for yelling.

but the words wouldn’t 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 didn’t rush you at all. his hands stayed steady around you and his weight felt like the apologies you never got from your family.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs again.

but it wasn’t ok.

you needed to tell him you were sorry and needed to scrape those words out of your chest before they choked you.

“i— i—” your voice cracked, and it died in your mouth.

you tried again. “i’m… i’m sorry,” you whispered against his chest, barely more than a breath.

it wasn’t enough. it never felt enough. you never felt like you were enough. sorry wasn’t 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 didn’t 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, “it’s not your fault, sweetheart. i get it.”

you froze.

those words shouldn’t 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 you’d 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 you’d be with for life.

to be seen is to be loved.

jjk angst taglist! @monoash

i’m gonna start a new jjk angst/hurt-comfort taglist because i don’t want to trigger anyone on my full jjk taglist🙏

so comment to be added!

anywho, i’m sorry. can you guys tell i’m crashing out with this second nanami hurt/comfort drabble (and more to come!!) he’s just so stable and emotionally intelligent and i just need someone like him right now…

[lovezaynie]

Kento sleeping on the sofa seems to be a sign that attracts his children with him...

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Kento comes home tired, with that quiet exhaustion that doesn’t 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 didn’t 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 doesn’t wake him. He sits carefully on the floor beside Kento’s head, his back against the couch. He pulls out a book or a quiet toy. Sometimes, without thinking, he rests his hand over Kento’s, 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 doesn’t 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 “It’s okay.”

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 side…

He doesn’t complain.

He just smiles, a little.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

[sweetieelilii]

⸝⸝⸝ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 w/ reader who never had gentle parents

you expected kento to yell back at you. argue. to hit you—though 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.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, deep and soothing, as if you hadn’t just yelled at him for the stupidest things ever.

and suddenly? you’re sobbing in his arms.

he didn’t tell you to calm down or that you were wrong. he just…told you it was okay?

like your broken temper wasn’t a problem at all. god. what was wrong with you?

“nothing’s wrong with you, honey.”

fuck. you’d 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 hadn’t even realized that wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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, he’d 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 waiting…even if a part of you knew that wasn’t true at all.

kento’s shoulders had stiffened. not even with anger, but with clear exhaustion—and that had only made it worse for you for some stupid reason.

you were used to being told you didn’t 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.

you’d 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 wasn’t 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 you’d tried your best to hold your past in. you’ve never looked like this before.

“hey,” he called out, softer than you deserved. “slow down.”

that’s when he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.

it wasn’t 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 didn’t mean it. that you didn’t want to scare him. that you hated yourself for yelling.

but the words wouldn’t 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 didn’t rush you at all. his hands stayed steady around you and his weight felt like the apologies you never got from your family.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs again.

but it wasn’t ok.

you needed to tell him you were sorry and needed to scrape those words out of your chest before they choked you.

“i— i—” your voice cracked, and it died in your mouth.

you tried again. “i’m… i’m sorry,” you whispered against his chest, barely more than a breath.

it wasn’t enough. it never felt enough. you never felt like you were enough. sorry wasn’t 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 didn’t 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, “it’s not your fault, sweetheart. i get it.”

you froze.

those words shouldn’t 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 you’d 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 you’d be with for life.

to be seen is to be loved.

jjk angst taglist! @monoash

i’m gonna start a new jjk angst/hurt-comfort taglist because i don’t want to trigger anyone on my full jjk taglist🙏

so comment to be added!

anywho, i’m sorry. can you guys tell i’m crashing out with this second nanami hurt/comfort drabble (and more to come!!) he’s just so stable and emotionally intelligent and i just need someone like him right now…

[gojosluut]

Toji Fushiguro is so comfortable with his masculinity that he lets his pretty hyper feminine girlfriend do whatever she wants to him.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You need someone to practice a new makeup look on? he’s 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 you’re 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? He’s 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? he’s 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 you’re 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.

“i love them, babydoll.” His usual deep voice now tender and so soft. Before his eyes can even look back up at you, you’re 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 “oh really?” and “mhm” 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.

₊˚⊹♡

[tojipie]

“is nanami single?”

suguru’s face drops, like the nature of what you’ve just asked him is much, much worse than it is.

your best friend’s gaze slowly flicks over to the man sitting alone in front of you, typing away on his laptop only a couple yards away.

“that nanami?” he sighs.

you watch kento pause to take a long sip of whatever foamy drink he’s nursing, running lithe hand through the shaggy bangs you’ve daydreamed about more times than humanly possible.

“yes him, who else?”

“how many times are you going to ask me that this week? i don’t know.” the catty tilt in your best friend's tone is unsurprising.

it’s 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 campus’ 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.

“oh for fucks sake—kento! you single?”

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.

“well is he asking me, or are you?” nanami holds your gaze, drumming five perfectly manicured fingers against the table you kind of wish you could disappear into right now

“me— uh. sorry.” you breathe, not quite knowing what you’re 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.

“y’know you should probably be nicer when a girl is asking you out.” he jests.

“is that what you’re doing?” nanami sounds perfectly composed, eyes never leaving your own. you don’t know whether to blush or flinch with how steadily he’s 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.

“would you..” you’re not even sure how to phrase it without sounding ridiculous. “do you want to grab lunch sometime? like… together?” 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.

“i’d like that.” nanami tells you. he sounds softer around the edges now, kinder. almost like he’s 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 “i told you so” louder than words ever could.

[vennywrites]

After a stressful day of work, Streamer!Sukuna won’t 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 you’ve 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

It’s 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 you’re close to parking your car at the side of the road, blowing up Sukuna’s phone until he comes and picks you up, holds you close and never lets go again.

But you’re an adult, you’re grown up and just like you, Sukuna has a job. He can’t stop everything because his girlfriend had a long day and he can’t 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 Sukuna’s 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 ‘five steps at once’-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 that’s 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 won’t 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 “Hi,” 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 don’t need to say anything else, it’s 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 “Be right back” screen. Then he’s already there, door nudged out of the way before he’s collecting your face, worry evident in his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” 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 doesn’t matter how much time passes, he doesn’t urge you to collect yourself, just holds you until the tears stop by themselves and there’s some horrible wet stains in the middle of his hoodie that he never cares about.

“You hurt?” he asks and you shake your head, sniffle and feel the exhaustion wash over you.

“Wanna talk about it?” 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.

“Alright,” Sukuna starts, slowly peeling you away from him. “How about you go get changed into something cozy and I get you something to eat.”

He kisses you, careful and soft and you let him, know all he can taste is salt and snot and he still doesn’t 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 Sukuna’s 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.

He’s 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.

“Is it a pizza or a burger kind of day?”

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.

“Definitely pizza,” you mumble and rub your nose into the fabric.

He orders without another word, sets his phone down and carefully twists in your grip. He’s never been one to be cuddled, but rather the cuddler.

“So, what do you feel like, what would help?”

You immediately feel guilty, knowing he should be streaming, that you stopped him mid game, even if he didn’t complain.

“You should get back to streaming,” you tell him despite having a hundred better ideas on how he could help you.

“I think I should take care of my miserable girlfriend.”

You snort weakly, shaking your head.

“It’s fine.”

For a moment, he doesn’t reply and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he dares to make a proposition.

“You wanna play something? We could do something together…”

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, you’ve been thinking about a game he might actually have himself, because from what you’ve heard, basically everybody does.

“Have you heard of Minecraft?” you ask and it’s his turn to scoff, some badly muffled sound that he tries to swallow.

“Mhm,…” he makes and waits for more input.

“I heard it’s a fun building game… peaceful and colorful. I thought for a while maybe we could try it together…”

His laugh is a soft thing, something that comes easy and makes your chest all fuzzy and warm.

“I’ll do you one better,” he teases and bends to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“We already have a server. We can hop on, you can stay at my base and we can figure it out from there.”

If you could have stars in your eyes, you would. You didn’t think it would be that easy, to convince him of taking in a total noob, someone who’s never touched a game that’s been integral to most people growing up. Of course you’ve 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. It’s a funny thing, really.

You’ve 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 isn’t lost hours and a boss who shouts at you when you’re not at fault.

“Really?”

Another kiss, this time to your nose as he pushes you away just enough to look at you.

“Sure. Why not. I just have one good thing and one bad thing to tell you…”

“Oh no…” Somehow, it doesn’t really have you worried and it shows when his lips split into a grin.

“The good news is that there are animals for you to find and tame.” That has you smile too, excitement growing. You’ve seen pictures of cows and sheep, you just weren’t aware there were some to tame. “Like dogs, horses… cats and birds.”

“That’s fun.”

“Bad news is we’re on a hard difficulty server. So there’s mobs.”

“What’s mobs? Like… the mafia?”

He snorts and drapes the blanket over your shoulders.

“No, like zombies and skeletons and creepers.”

“That makes no sense to me, babe,” you admit and he hands you your cup of tea, grabbing his phone and your free hand as he leads you back upstairs.

“Doesn’t matter. They try to kill you. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Upstairs, his chat has already turned rogue. Sukuna doesn’t 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.

“You ready?”

You nod, know how it works by now, the two of you having lived long enough together to have some sort of routine.

It’s not often that you play together while he’s live. Your game styles and usual choices don’t align, you don’t have the nerves for the shooters he prefers, he doesn’t have the patience for any story-driven games.

Still, he knows you don’t like to be heard on his stream when you are playing with him. You don’t like the attention, don’t 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.

“Alright, minions,” 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. There’s 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.

“— change of plan. We’re playing Minecraft and you losers don’t get to say shit about it. The mines are calling to me.”

He boots up the game and takes his sweet time doing anything, grabbing his phone instead and shooting a message off into the void. You’re 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 ‘Maidenless’ 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, you’re 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.

He’s 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, there’s 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.

It’s ugly and that’s not even doing it justice. A block of obsidian with an iron door, larger than any other structure that’s in your field of vision, it ruins the beautiful flower forest he calls his home.

When you’ve 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.

“There’s mobs. And Satoru. I need a base that holds. Obsidian can’t be broken by explosions or anything, so if any of those idiots try to attack my base again, I’m safe. You don’t have to like it.”

But in fact, you do, considering it’s your home now, too.

“I don’t want to live in an obsidian prison,” you argue and one of the boys snorts, probably having picked up your words through his mic. You don’t 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 you’re 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, you’re focused, the actual issue still at hand.

“I want a cute house. With a roof. A chimney, a place for Ares.”

You’ve seen pictures and watched videos of wonderful buildings come to live, detailed and wonderfully crafted.

“I don’t even have a dog in this game,” Sukuna mutters.

“You said there’s dogs.”

“There are.”

“Then we need Ares, Sukuna.”

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. You’re not so sure yet what to do with them, but when Satoru starts eagerly leading you away and Sukuna doesn’t seem to have any complains, the three of you head out on your very first adventure.

It doesn’t 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.

He’s 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 villager’s chest, only to be immediately shut down by Sukuna who growls something into his mic that you don’t 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 that’s 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 you’re 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.

“How does a sheep help us with beds?”

“They give wool.”

“Oh, like - you shear them?” 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.

“Yea. But I don’t have shears.” You watch him dig back up to vanish, closing the cave again before his nametag starts jumping away. “I’ll kill them.”

The dramatic “Nooo!” you scream has the whole group laugh, Toji mimicking you with a very bad impression and Choso choking so hard on whatever he’s 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 Sukuna’s 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 that’s 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.

“Feed it the bones!” 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 it’s tail at you as it sits down.

“Did I do it?” 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 you’re suddenly no longer satisfied with just one dog, when Satoru lets it slip that there’s 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, you’re dizzy from laughing. None of it is serious, at least not serious enough and with Sukuna’s stoic attempt at keeping you alive and focused, Satoru’s chaotic tendencies seem to enhance your own, the two of you up to no good the moment he’s 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 Sukuna’s hellhole and only then do all of you realize that the wool Sukuna slaughtered for still sits unused in his inventory. It’s 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 that’s gone cold and too sweet.

Still, it’s a feast. You laugh so hard even Sukuna’s chat picks it up and while he tries his hardest to talk over your giggling and squeals, you’re 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, you’ve 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. Sukuna’s 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 he’s 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 can’t but see the vision, a beautiful floating castle that’s 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 it’s 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. There’s 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 you’re informed he’s 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. He’s more than eager to show you when you finally arrive and there’s an honest attempt at explaining to you the mechanics of red stone but you don’t understand a single word and try to act like you do, just to be called out by literally everyone when you too eagerly say “Yes” and “Aaaah” and “wow”.

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.

You’ve 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 Choso’s 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, it’s 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 Sukuna’s 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 he’ll 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 there’s 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 that’s calmer by the way he’s 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.

“How you feeling now?” Sukuna asks, pulling your legs into his lap, fingers gently kneading.

“Better,” you immediately admit, honestly, face tired from smiling. “I had a great time. Thank you—“ you try to gesture at it all, “for indulging me.”

He looks at you with a lopsided smile, eyes heavy-lidded while his fingers never stop. “I enjoyed it. We need to do that again.”

It’s 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, you’re out of breath and a bit too warm. He’s your own walking furnace and when the two of you finally start your night routine, you’re more than happy to sink into your bed, let Ares beneath the blanket and cuddle yourself as close as possible to Sukuna’s 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.

“Tomorrow will be better, love.”

You nod and believe him. There’s no urge to bring up what happened, he doesn’t 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.

[ceramic-raven]

When I go read a fanfic, but then see it was last updated over two years ago