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⤷ with this treasure i summon... a writer.
martial artist • musician • biker
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I’m like super new to the whole tumblr interface, but I’ve been a writer for a damn long time. I'm just here to post some stories, find fellow writers, and make friends!
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fandoms & genres: I pretty much write anything from any fandom/genre, but i specialize in romance and horror.
My current mega hyperfixation is jujutsu kaisen (which I am much more inclined to write about) but here are just (some) of the other fandoms im in:
Love and Deepspace
My Hero Academia
Call of Duty
Arcane
Chainsaw Man
The Apothecary Diaries
Avatar: The Last Airbender
Gravity Falls
Stray Kids & K-Pop
Shatter Me Series
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MAIN MASTERLIST
⚡ JUJUTSU KAISEN
LOW VOLTAGE SERIES A JJK blackout alternate universe.
⤷ 01. Shadow Puppets — Megumi handles the Blackout with his divine dogs.
⤷ 02. Static Flavored Soup — Yuji and Nobara try to make dinner during the blackout.
⤷ 03. Coming Soon...
⚖️ HUNTER X HUNTER
⤷ Gilded Cages — Leorio Paladiknight x GN!Reader A genie traps Leorio in a golden lamp, using brutal psychological illusions to break his spirit until he willingly gives up his freedom.
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HELUVME ! ☆ 19. remember when we broke up
⤷ megumi fushiguro x fem!reader
syn. you broke up two weeks ago... but you aren't quite done with megumi yet!
cw/tags. college/aged up megumi, he's mean, exes to lovers, kinda toxic? ANGST, jealousy, reader constantly provokes him ect. dirty/suggestive humour.
WRITTEN CHAPTER BELOW!
-> 1.4k words
the date had lasted the entire day.
breakfast at your favourite cafe. a bookstore. a mini shopping spree. lunch. a movie. the arcade. dinner. dessert. second dessert.
it all felt strangely normal again. as if the last month of emotional warfare, psychological torture, tears, pining, second-hand embarrassment from every and angle and... light stalking had never even happened.
all was calm again.
you'd gotten back to his and yuuji's place an hour ago, and had immediately been smothered by the dogs the second you'd stepped through the door and been forced to play with them until they finally tired out and were now napping peacefully in the corner of megumi's bedroom.
you and megumi had showered, gotten into comfy clothes, did sheet masks by the fogged up bathroom mirror and caught up on all the college gossip you'd missed out on while the serum seeped into your skin. it was nice talking about something that didn't involve the two of you.
and now you both lay on his bed, his laptop between you both playing the next episode of the drama you'd started together before the breakup and haven't touched since despite the suspense killing the two of you because even if you'd split, watching something you'd started together separately felt like a flavour of betrayal you weren't quite ready to partake in.
"hey, baby." you mumbled against him, not yet tearing your eyes away from the screen. two characters were currently engaged in a pretty breakup argument.
the irony felt too fresh to call out.
"hm." megumi responded absently.
"remember when we broke up?"
he sighed in defeat. you snickered, clearly proud of yourself.
you sighed contentedly, your head nestled comfortably against his shoulder, your half-empty bag of snacks balanced on his stomach for easy reach. megumi didn't move it. even if you were getting crumbs all over his shirt. every now and then, you tilted your head up, a piece in your hand, lifting it to his mouth, and he'd take the offering without ceremony just to watch you beam happily before you laid your head back down.
completely relaxed. like there wasn't a single worry left in your head. like everything had been squashed and there was nothing left to dwell on.
megumi wished he could say the same. wished he could forgive himself just as easily as you did and get out of his own head. but the truth was, his chest still ached and an angry lump still formed in his throat every time you looked and him and smiled like he was your saviour.
because megumi was no saviour.
despite the apology the night before, despite your forgiveness, despite promising to turn over a new leaf, it wasn't easy to tell himself it was over when he'd broken your heart in one night and mended it again just as fast.
but after he'd risen from his knees yesterday on your command, after you'd accepted his apology, you'd tugged him towards you by the front of his shirt, sending him stumbling, and given him a tight slap right across the face.
his cheek still stung from the impact even now.
you'd then proceeded to spend twenty minutes lecturing him; scolding him for his stupidity, his sense of self-pity, for making decisions for you, for acting like some sort of martyr with his tendency to turn his problems into noble sacrifice instead of just communicating.
but most of all, for being so damn hard on himself.
for telling himself he wasn't worthy of change, he wasn't worthy of forgiveness, of love, of anything, all over one mindless mistake.
a mistake he shouldn't have made, of course but a mistake, no less.
and then you'd grabbed his face, forced him to look you in the eyes and promise you that he would learn to forgive himself.
and he did. and megumi intended on keeping that promise, even if there was a rocky uphill battle to fight. he's not a martyr. he's not a hero. and he's not a villain either. he's your boyfriend. and that's all you asked him to be.
so, for you, he'd try, and he'd learn to shake this horrible feeling every time his eyes found yours, and live in the moment. with you.
your sudden gasp pulled him back. he blinked, turning his attention to you, "what?"
before you could answer, something white launched across the room. a blur of fur. two paws landed on the mattress.
shiro.
immediately, your face lit up. "hi, my baby!" you sat up, patting the bed enthusiastically, "c'mere!"
shiro needed no encouragement. he bounded forward and practically threw himself into your arms.
earlier, both dogs had nearly knocked you over from excitement when you'd walked through the front door.
after exhausting themselves, they'd passed out in their beds. apparently naptime was over.
you wrapped your arms around shiro immediately.
pressing kisses all over his face.
"missed me?" a happy bark sounded in response. you giggled. "yeah? me too."
shiro responded by enthusiastically licking your cheek.
you shrieked.
"ew!"
another lick.
"shiro!"
another.
"eugh!"
despite your protests, you made absolutely no effort to stop him.
megumi snorted, "you literally just did your skincare."
"i know." shiro licked you again. you laughed. the dog seemed very pleased with himself, tail thumping against your leg fast enough to make its own wind current.
then his attention shifted. toward megumi. target acquired.
megumi immediately recognized the look, and narrowed his eyes in disgust. shiro leaned forward. megumi wrapped his hand around shiro's mouth and nose, holding them together before the dog could even think about going in with the attack.
"no."
a pause. shiro tried again. megumi pushed his face away.
"no."
the dog whined dramatically. megumi remained unmoved.
"no."
another attempt. another rejection. eventually shiro gave up. and buried his face into your neck instead, whining pitifully
you immediately hugged him protectively. "aww, is your daddy being mean?"
megumi rolled his eyes. "i'm not."
"be nice to him." you huff, nudging megumi's side.
"he's gross."
your jaw dropped. "he's a baby."
"your baby eats dirt."
"he doesn't."
"he literally does."
"he's just curious."
megumi stared.
you kissed shiro's nose. "and he brushed his teeth. didn't you?"
"still gross."
you huffed. then suddenly gasped again. a streak of black fur flashed past.
kuro. awake at last.
"there he is!" you immediately opened your arms, welcoming, "you come up too!"
kuro required even less convincing. seconds later he launched himself onto the mattress, then directly onto you. you disappeared beneath approximately fifty kilograms of dog. only your face remained visible.
megumi watched. then raised an eyebrow, "you want me to move them?"
your head immediately popped up. the dogs barked indignantly too, as if offended by the mere suggestion. you hugged them tighter, "no way!"
megumi sighed and laid back down. "suit yourself."
the episode continued. a comfortable silence settled over the room again.
the characters fought. some guy gets hit by a truck and put on life support. hospital monitors.
occasional dog snores.
and your commentary every few minutes, until eventually even that faded.
the credits rolled. megumi glanced down. then over.
"wanna watch another episode?" he asks, silently hoping you'll say no because he's not sure how much more of this cliche nonsense he can take this late into the night.
a loud snore answered him.
he blinked. looked again. all three of you were asleep. you. shiro. kuro.
megumi stared. then sighed, lifting himself up by the elbows. that couldn't possibly be comfortable for you, having two giant dogs crushing you down into the mattress, essentially turning you into sandwich filling.
carefully, he nudged shiro aside, immediately being met with a whine of retaliation. then kuro. another whine.
"shut up." he muttered. both dogs looked betrayed, "you're lucky i'm not making you sleep in your beds."
the only reason he wasn't was because he already knew exactly what would happen.
you'd wake up. find out. then scold him about how they're only babies and they need you. the dogs knew it too. eventually they settled beside you. satisfied.
megumi slid an arm beneath your shoulders and gently pulled you against his chest.
you stirred, yawning sleepily and smacking your lips, "…thanks."
his expression softened. a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. he brushed your hair back. then pressed a kiss against your forehead. "sleep."
"mhm…" you immediately curled closer. like you'd never left. like you'd always belonged there. "g'night, gumi."
his hand moved through your hair comfortingly, caressing your scalp with his fingertips, enticing a comfortable sigh from your lips. megumi watched you slowly fade back out. "goodnight."
a few seconds passed.
"love you." your voice came out muffled against his shirt, sleepy and barely there.
megumi paused.
then his hand resumed moving through your hair like it was something precious.
"…i love you too."
no response. only a snore. he looked down. you were completely gone. fast asleep. megumi laughed quietly. then reached over and closed the laptop. darkness veiled the room.
he tucked the blankets beneath your chin. pulled you a little closer. and held you there. listening to your breathing. the dogs' breathing. the steady rhythm of a life he'd nearly thrown away.
his eyes drifted shut.
this time, he wouldn't let go.
chapter 18 ☆ masterlist
[ a/n ] AAAAAND THATS A WRAP FOLKS!!! i literally feel like i'm mourning an ex what the hell is this gut sinking feeling it's not even that serious LMFAOOOO
anyways time for sappy junie to come out... thank u SO much for the support on this 🥺🥺 i truly feel like heluvme brought me so much closer to u guys!! i love seeing all ur msgs and comments and it makes me feel so happy to see u all so invested in my work even if ur just screaming at megumi for being an idiot thru the screen HAHAHAHA this is my first completed smau series but i promise theres so many more to come i have soooo many more ideas left!! this will not be the end.
⋆˚࿔ SYNOPSIS When your boyfriend is too chicken to break up with you, he sends his nerdy twin to do the dirty work. The leather jacket is a decent touch, but the personality is a dead giveaway. Instead of getting mad, you make him your personal tutor. As the lines between you blur, you realise you're falling for the man behind the glasses, leaving your ex to wonder exactly who is getting replaced.
⋆˚࿔ nerd!satoru x figure skating!reader
⋆˚࿔ cw: college au. idiots in love. academic stress. hurt/comfort. suggestive themes. slight angst? fights and a bit of violence. drugs mentioned. tags will be updated.
part 4 series masterlist main masterlist
Watching Satoru move through the museum with his thick glasses pushed up high onto his nose, his cheeks carrying a faint pink flush from sheer excitement was adorable. Every two seconds, his pace would falter, his thumb tracing the soft skin of your knuckles as he pulled you toward every exhibit.
"Did you know originally these were painted with all kinds of vibrant colors and intricate patterns? Some of them even had real jewellery on them," Satoru murmured, his voice carrying that excited tone. He was pointing a long, pale finger at a weathered Greek statue.
You tilted your head, looking up at the sharp line of his jaw, the way the museum's ambient light caught the striking blue of his eyes behind his lenses. "Were they really?" you asked. "I always thought they were meant to be white, so it looked more elegant."
"It’s only because of the long passage of time that the organic pigments tarnished. Nature stripped them down until they were all uniform white. People look at classical antiquity now and think it is supposed to be minimal, but that's not true at all.”
Satoru’s smile widened instantly as he guided you down the hallway, dodging the crowd. He would adjust his own path, subtly blocking the passing tourists with his broad shoulders to avoid them bumping into you.
You stopped a few minutes later in the center of a velvet-roped gallery, staring at an exhibition that seemed completely out of place among the oil paintings. "Satoru, why is there a literal wooden cargo barrel in the middle of an art museum?”
A soft chuckle escaped his throat and he stepped closer. "Oh, this barrel! It’s special because there's a massive technical twist in the craftsmanship. Look at the wooden slats, they are bent manually by a cooper, not a hooper. It’s brilliant engineering!”
As you stared at a painting on the adjacent wall, it contained a nobleman posing aggressively, with his hand on his hip. "Pass," you said deadpan. "I am currently staring at a portrait of a historical figure wearing exceptionally skinny pajamas."
Satoru let out a dramatic, deeply offended gasp, his face dropping so close to yours that his hot breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. "What?! Do you even know who that is? That man literally led three separate revolutions. His plans were an absolute piece of work.”
"Yeah… but… look at him, Satoru..." You grimaced playfully, tracing the painted fabric with your eyes. "He looks like he’s about to go to a sleepover."
Satoru stared at the canvas, then down at your deadpan expression. A helpless laugh filled his chest, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face briefly in the crook of your neck to hide his grin. "Okay. Fair point”
"OKAY, NOW THIS IS A SMASH," you both burst out at the same time your voices overlapping perfectly in the quiet, echoing room.
You snapped your head toward him, startled, and Satoru froze, a deep, unmistakable crimson instantly climbing to the tips of his ears. He blinked down at you, his pupils dilated behind his glasses, completely caught off guard by the effortless telepathy of the moment.
"Omg, look, there’s an old vintage photobooth. Come on," you said, the sudden burst of excitement taking over as you grabbed his wrist, dragging him.
The interior of the booth was incredibly small, designed for teenagers, not for a guy who stood over six feet tall with broad shoulders. The moment the heavy velvet curtain slid shut, sealing the two of you into a private capsule, the space vanished entirely. Satoru was awkwardly trying to fold his long legs, his knees knocking against the metal coin slot.
"There's no room," you laughed as you stepped forward and sat squarely on his lap.
The air left Satoru’s lungs in a sharp hitch. You could feel the sudden tension in his thighs beneath you as you leaned forward, your fingers scrolling through the filter options on the glowing touch screen.
Satoru was taking deep, slow breaths, his chest heaving slightly against your back as he desperately tried not to turn red and completely lose his composure from the sudden, overwhelming closeness. His hands were hovering awkwardly in the air, terrified of where to place them, his ears glowing a brilliant pink in the dim light of the booth.
"Look at the screen, dummy," you teased, leaning back against his chest.
You put your cheek flush against his, smiling widely as the digital timer hit zero and the first picture clicked with a blinding flash. The first frame captured Satoru's wide eyes behind his lenses, his body stiff as stone, while you leaned into him with a bright, easy smile.
For the second photo, you made bunny ears behind his head. The tension in his body started to fade as his hand settled tentatively on your waist as the flash went off, capturing his unguarded smile.
The third countdown started. Three. Two. You waited until the absolute last millisecond before you turned your head sharply and pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly to Satoru’s pale cheek. Click. The sudden warmth of your lips short-circuited his brain entirely. His jaw fell slightly open, his white lashes fluttering in unscripted bewilderment.
The final countdown was a blur. Satoru kept his head turned toward you, his blue eyes wide with an overwhelming adoration as he stared at the side of your face. You were looking back at him, your hands resting over his large knuckles, your smile bright.
When the glossy strip finally spat out of the machine into the metal tray outside, Satoru snatched it up. He stared at the four squares, his thumb tracing the edges of your smile before he carefully slid it into his pocket and walked towards the museum’s cafe.
The two of you were squeezed next to each other at a tiny two-person table with identical mugs of vanilla mocha sitting between you. You were staring down at a decorated pastry on your plate.
"This menu says this dessert is supposed to 'taste like the essence of the French Revolution'…, what is that even supposed to mean? Does it taste like gunpowder?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Satoru said as he took a huge, ungraceful bite of a chocolate tart, getting a small smear of chocolate near the corner of his mouth. "But whatever it means, it tastes incredible."
You reached over with a napkin, gently wiping the chocolate from his cheek. Satoru leaned into your hand instinctively, his blue eyes softening behind his glasses as he watched you across the table. The world felt like a fragile bubble that neither of you wanted to pop.
The heavy front door of the apartment slammed violently against the wall as Toru strode in, dripping with sweat and entirely exhausted from a grueling soccer drill. His expensive duffel bag hit the floor with a heavy thud.
He saw his brother sitting on a barstool, staring down at something in his hand, a giddy, entirely lovesick smile plastered across his face, a look of pure vulnerability that Toru had never seen on his twin’s face in their entire lives.
As Toru stepped closer, his boots clicking sharply in the quiet kitchen, his eyes narrowed. He squinted, his gaze dropping to the small object Satoru was tracing with his thumb.
It was a glossy strip of photobooth pictures with your lips on his cheek.
A sickening, toxic spike of adrenaline shot straight through Toru’s chest. Before Satoru could even register his presence, Toru lunged forward, slamming his open hand onto the marble counter right next to Satoru’s face.
"Were you going to ever tell me?" Toru accused, his voice a low snarl.
The smile on Satoru’s face vanished instantly. Slowly, Satoru closed his fingers over the photobooth strip, hiding it from his brother's sight as he turned his head to look Toru in the eye.
"So you walked into that rink," Toru sneered, leaning down into Satoru’s face. "You wore my jacket. You sprayed my cologne. You stood there pretending to be me, and you didn't even try to fix things? You didn't try to defend me? You just sat there, let her dump me, so you could swoop in and take her?" Toru let out a harsh, mocking scoff, his hands gripping the edge of the bar. "And you liked it, didn't you? You liked feeling what it was like to be me for once in your pathetic life.”
Satoru’s knuckles turned a ghostly white around the paper strip.
"Let me guess," Toru continued, his tongue sharp as a razor as he struck directly at Satoru. "You saw a broken girl and your freak genius brain couldn't wait to turn her into your little project. A nice little problem to solve. But let’s be honest, Satoru, the second she’s fixed, your little fixation will end, and you’ll leave her, because you don’t actually know how to feel real human emotions.”
"She’s not my project," Satoru said, his voice dangerously quiet. In one sharp, violent movement, he stood up to face his twin, knocking his barstool backward. The heavy wood hit the floor with a loud crash. "And she is not broken. I love her."
Hearing his own voice utter those words, confessing it aloud caused a sudden, suffocating dam to break inside Satoru’s chest. Hot, frustrated tears spilled over his lower lashes, tracing wet lines down his pale cheeks. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as he stood his ground.
"And you think what, Toru? You think you actually deserved her?" Satoru shouted, his voice cracking with a lifetime of pent-up resentment. "I’ve seen you flirt with other girls while she was right next to you! You left her alone on your anniversary like it didn't matter. Like she didn't matter! My entire life, Toru, I've felt like I didn't matter in this family! Watching you go out and do things, celebrated by everyone, while I wasn't even invited because our parents decided it wasn't 'my type of thing.' Well, it was! I would have tagged along anyway! I wanted to be your brother, but you only looked at me when you needed a shadow to hide your messes!"
Toru flinched, the sight of Satoru’s tears striking him like a physical blow. For a split second, the arrogant armour slipped, revealing a defensive hollow underneath. His own eyes burned with a bitter, angry sheen of unshed tears. He clenched his fists, his ego lashing out one last time to protect his pride.
"You think I don't know I didn't deserve her? Maybe that’s true," Toru barked, his voice thick, choking on his own pride as he stepped back. "But do you have any idea how it felt for me, Satoru? Listening to you talk about your academics, being so dedicated, while I was standing by your side, looking like a stupid idiot? I'm the dumb twin, Satoru! Everyone knows it! I let you handle the breakup because I genuinely thought you were the only one smart enough to fix our relationship! I thought you were the perfect brother who had all the answers! And you what? You use your genius brain to make her happier in two weeks than I could in three years?!" Toru’s face twisted into a bitter sneer, desperately trying to hide the raw humiliation of his own tears as his ego completely shattered. "You're pathetic, Satoru. Always hiding in my shadow, stealing my leftovers. Let’s see how much you like her when she's nothing."
Unable to handle the suffocating weight of his own vulnerability, Toru kicked his soccer duffel bag out of the way, spun on his heel and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the front door so hard the glass light fixture in the hallway rattled.
Satoru stood frozen in the center of the kitchen, his broad shoulders shaking as the adrenaline drained from his body. The words rang in his ears like a physical siren. Slowly, his knees gave out and he slid down against the kitchen cabinets, collapsing onto the floor, surrounded by the mess of the argument. His fingers tightened around the photobooth strip, his tears chilling the glossy paper as they fell.
He looked down through his blurred vision at the final frame. You were looking at him like he was the moon, your smile soft and unconditional. A sudden, paralyzing terror gripped his chest. He wanted to call you, he desperately needed to hear your voice, but he was entirely terrified. He was scared to death that his own broken nature was going to ruin the only thing in the entire universe that had ever made him truly happy.
Your phone had barely finished its second ring before you answered it, the sharp, ragged sound of Satoru's breathing through the receiver instantly pulling you out of your sheets. You hadn't even stopped to put on a jacket or lace your shoes properly, you had sprinted across the campus in your pajamas, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
When you threw open the unlocked door to his apartment, the kitchen was pitch black, save for the ambient light filtering through the window.
Satoru was sitting with his legs drawn up to his chest. His glasses were lying discarded on the floor a few feet away. His white hair was a wild, disheveled mess, and his face was completely filled with tears. The sight made your chest ache with a hollow pain.
"Satoru," you whispered, dropping to your knees onto the cold floor beside him.
The moment your hands touched his shoulders, Satoru flinched, his head snapping up. His eyes were completely bloodshot and overflowing with fresh tears, his pupils dilated in the shadows. He looked at you like a drowning man looking at a lifeline, his breath catching in a choked, pained hitch.
Without a word, you leaned in, wrapping your arms securely around his neck and pulling his heavy frame against your chest. He collapsed into you, his large arms locking around your waist with a desperate, bruising intensity, burying his face directly into the crook of your neck. His tears soaked through the fabric of your shirt, his entire body shuddering against yours as he sobbed openly into your shoulder.
"Please," Satoru choked out, his voice a broken, trembling whimper that didn't sound like him at all. His fingers dug into the skin of your back, holding you so tightly it felt as though he were terrified you would dissolve into mist if he loosened his grip. "Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels this way. Do you look at me as just a lesser version of him?"
"No," you fiercely whispered into his white hair, your own eyes stinging with tears as your heart shattered for him. You tightened your arms around his broad shoulders, rocking him gently on the kitchen floor. "No, Satoru, look at me. I chose you. I want the boy who makes me vanilla mochas and can't skate to save his life. You are so much more. Please, Satoru, breathe for me."
You stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, holding him in the dark until the violent trembling in his chest finally subsided into slow, exhausted breaths. When he finally calmed down, you managed to guide him off the floor. You brought him a glass of water, sitting quietly on the edge of his bed while he went into the bathroom to clean the sticky tear tracks from his face.
When the door finally clicked open and he walked back out, looking emotionally drained but stable, you leaned against his bed. "Do you want me to stay?" you asked softly.
Satoru swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding yours as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You don't have to do that. I know you have early practice tomorrow, and I don't want to ruin your sleep…"
"Satoru," you interrupted, your voice gentle. "That’s not what I asked."
He gulped, looking at you with a desperate honesty that made your chest ache. "Then yes," he whispered. "Please stay."
The next morning, you blinked your eyes open, shifting against the sheets of Satoru’s bed, but the space beside you was already cold.
Tearing the blanket away, you walked out into the living room, your bare feet padding softly against the floorboards. Satoru was standing in front of the coffee machine. His back was turned to you, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his white hair catching the morning light. Even from behind, you could tell his eyes were still heavy and slightly swollen from the previous night.
The moment his ears caught the sound of your footsteps, he spun around and instantly strode across the kitchen, closing the distance between you. He wrapped his long arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck as he pulled you completely flush against his chest.
"Someone’s clingy this morning," you teased softly, a gentle laughter escaping your throat as your arms went around his neck.
Satoru just hummed against your skin, a low vibration that ghosted over your collarbone. He leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss directly to your temple, holding you so tightly it felt like he was reassuring his own brain that you were actually here.
"I thought you'd regret it," he murmured, his voice incredibly quiet against your neck, the vulnerability from last night still heavy in his chest. "I thought you'd wake up, think about everything and realize it's easier to walk away."
You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, your hands cupping the sides of his jaw. "Satoru, I'm not going anywhere. We're exactly where we're supposed to be."
A soft, relieved breath escaped his lips, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheekbone. For a brief heartbeat, everything seemed perfect.
LALALA
The sudden vibration of your phone shattered the quiet. Satoru let out a small, disappointed groan but reluctantly loosened his grip around your waist, turning back toward the coffee machine while you picked up your phone to see that your coach was calling.
"Hello?" you answered, a sudden knot forming in your stomach.
"Get to the athletic administration office right now," your coach’s voice cut through the receiver, entirely stripped of its usual encouraging tone. "The athletic director is here. We need to discuss your scholarship eligibility immediately."
"Right now?" you asked, your voice faltering as you turned around to look at Satoru. "Yes... of course. I’ll be right there."
You hung up the phone, a heavy wave of dread instantly settling over your chest. But before you could even open your mouth to explain, you realized Satoru was already moving. He was smiling softly, his own exhaustion shoved to the side as he packed your bag and handed a coffee to you with a reassuring nod.
"Sorry, it’s my coach," you told him, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "It’s urgent"
Satoru’s blue eyes softened behind his lenses, and he leaned down, pressing a quick, sweet kiss to your lips. "It’s okay. Go. I’ll be right here when you get back."
Maybe you should’ve just ignored your coach.
How did your life manage to turn completely upside down in the span of a single hour? Walking out of the athletic director's room, the hallway felt suffocatingly small, the sharp fluorescent lights overhead felt too bright. You felt like every single person passing you was staring straight at you. But at this point, the public humiliation didn't even register. You couldn't bring yourself to care.
Your career was entirely gone. Your life was over.
A single talk and your figure skating scholarship was about to be permanently revoked, your name erased from the upcoming final competition you had been preparing for. For doing drugs at a party.
Now, you knew with absolute certainty that you hadn't touched a single substance in your life. But how were you supposed to defend yourself against the weight of the athletic board when the coach flatly told you there were a few eyewitnesses who had signed a formal statement, swearing they watched you take it?
You kept walking blindly down the corridor, silent tears streaming down your face, your hands shaking so violently you could barely hold the straps of your bag. You were looking straight down at the floor, completely lost in the dark, when your shoulder collided hard with someone.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Shoko’s voice cut through your panic, her usual lazy, tired medical-student drawl instantly evaporating. Her eyes widened with deep, genuine worry as she dropped her heavy textbook onto a hallway bench. Her hands shot out, her fingers warm as she gently tilted your chin up to force you to look at her. "Why are you crying like this?"
A broken, strangled sob tore from your chest. Your strength completely failed you, and you just collapsed forward, wrapping your arms around her neck and weeping uncontrollably into her shoulder right in the middle of the crowded hallway. Shoko didn't care about the passing students as she firmly gripped your waist, guiding your trembling, limping frame out of the public eye and back to the safety of your dorm.
"What? And he actually believes them? Was there even any proof? Why don't they just do a drug test?!" Shoko screamed a few minutes later, her voice echoing violently against the walls as both of you sat side-by-side on the floor. She was practically vibrating with anger. "That's alright. We can fight this. This is completely unfair. They can't just accuse you and kick you off the team without even having proof!"
"He… he had a photo…" You choked out, your voice trembling so hard the words were barely audible.
"A photo of what? You doing drugs? Be serious," Shoko snapped. "What exactly were you doing at that party after you had that blowout fight with Toru in the hallway? You were with Satoru, right? Call him. Right now."
Your fingers shook violently as you dialed the number. Satoru answered on the first ring, his voice warm and eager to hear you. But as you sobbed out the details into the receiver, the warmth on the other end of the line completely died.
At first, a wave of sheer, terrifying panic for your safety paralyzed his chest. But within a fraction of a second, the fear curdled into a terrifying rage. Satoru hung the phone up with a violent click, his chest heaving as he remembered Toru’s bitter parting words right before he stormed out.
Was his brother really this petty? Was Toru’s fractured ego so malicious that he would destroy the one single thing in the universe you cared about just to prove he could?
Satoru sprinted across campus, his pace accelerating into a blind run until he burst through the heavy doors of the athletic locker room.
Toru was standing by the central row of metal lockers, surrounded by three of his soccer teammates, laughing casually about a play from practice. He looked unbothered.
Satoru crossed the room in a blur of motion and used his entire weight to tackle Toru straight into the metal. The locker door buckled behind Toru’s spine with an echoing crash.
Before the soccer players could even register what was happening, Satoru’s fist flew forward, punching Toru squarely across the jaw. Toru’s head snapped back, a sharp grunt escaping his lips as his teammates shrieked in shock. He aggressively gripped the damp fabric of Toru’s jersey, his knuckles turning white as he shoved his twin harder into the metal.
"So you what? Accuse her of doing drugs? Get her kicked off the team?!" Satoru roared, his voice cracking with pure frustration. "For what, Toru?! For not staying with you after you were a completely shitty boyfriend?"
Toru threw his forearms up to break Satoru’s grip. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving under his jersey, but as the actual words of the accusation registered in his brain, his aggressive stance stuttered. A deep confusion clouded his features before his eyes suddenly widened. He connected the dots. This was about you.
The arrogant face of the campus soccer star went completely, utterly pale. He pushed Satoru off with a desperate shove, his hands trembling as he yelled back, his voice cracking under the sudden weight of the locker room silence. "The fuck are you on about, Satoru?! Why would I ever do that to her? I’m not a petty bitch! I have absolutely nothing against her!"
Satoru stayed entirely quiet, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he stared at his brother through his lenses, his posture tightly coiled, ready to strike again.
Toru let out a harsh, bitter scoff, his eyes burning with a sudden, defensive sting as he looked at his twin’s face. "So what? You think just because I'm a selfish jerk means I want to ruin the girl I spent three years with? I'm an idiot, Satoru, but I love her too."
"There are a few eyewitnesses who filed a signed report claiming they saw her taking banned substances at the kitchen table during the party," Satoru said. "They said they watched her do it. And now her scholarship is about to be completely gone, and she’s getting kicked off the team permanently."
Toru’s face paled even further, the final remnants of his ego draining completely from his skin. He gripped the edge of the locker to steady his hands, his voice dropping all of its defensive anger. "It's gonna be fine," he muttered, his jaw tightening as he looked at Satoru. "Tell her to come to the coach's office. Right now."
The air inside the coach's private office was suffocatingly thick. You were sitting in the low leather chair, your fingers tightly intertwined in your lap to keep them from shaking, your eyes fixed on the desk.
Satoru stood directly behind your chair, his massive frame shielding you from the rest of the room, his large hand resting firmly on your shoulder. Toru stood by the window with his jersey still damp and his arms crossed over his chest.
"She was with me for the first half of the party, and we certainly didn't do or see any drugs there," Toru said to the coach, his voice unusually quiet. He gestured vaguely toward the printed document on the desk. "The picture they submitted is probably fabricated. Just look it up or something. It's fake."
The coach let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, leaning over his desk as his sharp eyes locked directly onto your pale face. "And where were you in the second half of the party?" he asked, his voice demanding a timeline. "Was that when this allegedly happened?"
You stuttered, your throat completely closing up as your heart did a frantic, uneven dance against your ribs. "No… I… I wasn't near the kitchen table."
The coach sighed again, rubbing his temples as he flipped a page on the clipboard. "So where exactly were you then? If you can't tell the dean where you were for the entire time and have alibis, I can't help you."
You took a sharp, ragged breath, the room suddenly feeling entirely too hot. "I… I was with Satoru," you whispered, your voice steadying as the truth left your lips. "In a bedroom upstairs. We were there for the entire time. The whole night."
The room went dead, suffocatingly silent. The only sound was the low hum of the office ventilation system.
Toru’s face completely drained of color. His jaw dropped slightly, his chest freezing mid-breath as his brain frantically connected the dots back to the night of the party. The shock seemed to shatter whatever remained of his composure. He remembered it perfectly. He remembered standing outside the locked bedroom door upstairs as he begged you to open the door, apologizing to you. He had stood there for twenty minutes, thinking you were inside, crying alone, nursing a broken heart he had caused.
He had absolutely no idea that his brother was inside that exact room with you, holding you flush against his chest, completely consuming your world while Toru begged a closed door.
He gulped, a choked sound escaping his throat. Without a single word, without looking at you or his brother, Toru spun on his heel and abruptly left the room, the heavy doors clicking shut behind his retreating form.
The head coach looked between you and Satoru, letting out a long, slow sigh. "Alright. I've already sent the digital picture to the IT department to get it checked out. Don't worry. If what you're saying is true, you won't have a problem. Your scholarship is safe."
notes:
lowk dont like this cuz ion know how to write fights, the next chapter is probs the final one
divider credits: @sisterlucifergraphics
To your delight, you had wrapped up your 3-day solo mission a full day ahead of schedule. The report had mentioned a multitude of grade 2 curses, but by the time you got there, most of them were already exorcised. You get out of the sleek black car, thank Ijichi, and walk back onto the school grounds. Gojo springs up immediately when he sees you.
“Hey, kid, you’re back early!”
“Yeah, I know,” you huff, “That multitude of curses was way over hyped.”
“Good, good,” He says, giving you a pat on the back, “You want to eat or need the infirmary or want-”
“I think I’m just going to go see Megumi really quickly,” you interrupt, wanting nothing more than to take a nice long nap in his bed.
Gojo gives you a knowing smirk, “Alright,” he says, holding his hands out, “I get it, go hang out with your boyfriend. But don’t forget about me!”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts, waving Gojo off and marching straight towards Megumi’s dorm. Your boots crunch loudly on the fresh snow, the harsh winter weather making you shiver. Eventually, though, you make it, hearing this rhythmic hum of the radiator outside Megumi’s door. You don’t even bother knocking; the two of you have been dating long enough now that the other's room is practically yours too. You twist the door handle, the cold making you extra eager to snuggle in his warm sheets.
“Hey, I’m back-“
The words practically die in your throat. Megumi was sitting criss-cross on the bed with a hyper-focused expression, his tongue partially sticking out of his mouth as he bit his lip in concentration. Then your eyes drift down to his hands. In them, he was holding two long knitting needles, his fingers moving with practiced precision between threads of emerald green yarn. His divine dogs were there too, one snuggled up with him on the bed and the other on the floor, dressed in a navy blue knitted sweater.
The black dog, Kuro, who is on the bed, responds to your voice immediately, looking up curiously, while Shiro remains on the floor, far too comfy in its thick sweater to even lift its head. Megumi, however, was a different story. He froze, his posture going rigid as he stared at you with wide eyes. For three seconds, the only sound in the room was the radiator and a small huff from Kuro.
Then suddenly Megumi snapped to life. He shoved his knitting needles and yarn under his pillow, even trying to cover Shiro’s sweater with the duvet to hide the evidence. He clears his throat, barely able to look you in the eye as you stand in the doorway, stunned.
“You’re... back early,” he murmurs, voice dropping low as he brutally fails to hide his embarrassment.
“Megs,” you say, processing the scene he just caused and trying not to laugh, “what are you doing?”
Megumi stays silent, his face turning a dark crimson. “I-uh.. nothing.”
You cock a brow, a light smile tugging at your lips, “Were you knitting?”
“No.”
You let out a huff, leaning down to Shiro and examining what appears to be Megumi’s latest work. The sweater looks flawless, the stitches all even and fitting Shiro perfectly. You give Shiro a pat on the head, running your fingers down the sweater one more time and looking back at Megumi.
“Did you make this?” You say, pointing down at the dog.
“No,” Megumi says right away, brushing a piece of hair away from his forehead, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
You finally can’t hold back anymore and let out a small chuckle, looking at the tail of green yarn sticking out from his pillow. “It’s ok, Megumi,” you say between laughs, “you don’t have to hide it.”
“Hide what?” He says, his hand brushing the tail of yarn and instantly tucking it away, his face coated with embarrassment.
You roll your eyes, “You’re so silly, Megumi,” you say, reaching out towards his pillow. Before he can stop you, you slide the emerald green project out from its hiding spot, the 2 knitting needles clacking softly together.
“Don’t look at that!” He says, reaching for you as you plop down on the side of the bed, smoothing out the yarn in your hands.
In your hands looked to be another sweater similar to Shiro’s, seemingly for Kuro. Again, the stitches were excellent, maybe even perfect, and the dog even moved over to your side to see what you were looking at. It takes you a second, but the pieces finally start connecting in your brain.
“Megumi, do you knit sweaters for your shikigami?”
“I..” He says, his hand dropping away from the half-finished project in yours. He sighs in defeat, scooting over to you and letting his legs hang off the edge of the bed. “They get cold,” he says, his head turned completely away from you.
Your heart swells instantly. Imagining your stoic, serious boyfriend knitting sweaters for his shadow animals is enough to make you forget how tired you were from your mission. “Megs,” you coo, shifting closer so your shoulders are brushing, “That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.
Megumi’s hand comes up to the back of his neck as he slowly turns to look at you, his face still flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not adorable,” he protests, “They... they just get cold, sometimes.”
You exhale softly, his exclamation making you want to pull him into the tightest hug possible. So, without another word, you throw your arms around him, nuzzling your face in his neck as he lets out a surprised gasp. His muscular arms move quickly, holding you against his chest. You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent before lifting your head.
“You’re so cute,” you say, your hand sliding down Megumi’s chest onto his rapidly beating heart.
Megumi sighs, a slight smirk painting his face as he looks at the project in your hands, then back up at you, his brows lifting into a concerned arch. “Just don’t tell anyone,” He pleads, “You know Gojo would never let this go.”
“Only if you knit me a sweater,” You say, your head falling onto Megumi’s shoulder.
To be totally honest, home life has been really rough behind the scenes right now. It's just been a lot to handle all at once, so I've needed to step back for a bit to deal with everything.
Things are definitely going to be a little slower around here while I get back on my feet, but I wanted to reassure you that I’m definitely still here! I haven't gone anywhere, and I haven't forgotten about any messages.
In fact, requests and asks are still 100% encouraged! Please feel free to keep sending them in—I love seeing them in my inbox and they give me something great to look forward to. Just please keep in mind that it might take me a little longer than usual to get to them right now.
Also, please don't hesitate to drop a message or an ask just to talk or scream about our favorite characters/fandoms! Even if I'm a bit slow to reply, I'm absolutely still down to chat, listen, and fangirl with you guys.
I'm still so excited to build this blog and write for you guys, I just need to pace myself for a bit while life settles down.
Thank you so much for understanding and being patient with me. I really appreciate any of you being here! 🖤
HELUVME ! ☆ 17. on his knees
⤷ megumi fushiguro x fem!reader
syn. you broke up two weeks ago... but you aren't quite done with megumi yet!
cw/tags. college/aged up megumi, he's mean, exes to lovers, kinda toxic? ANGST, jealousy, reader constantly provokes him ect. dirty/suggestive humour.
-> 2.3k words
for five minutes, megumi had been stood at the front door of your apartment, shifting the weight between his feet, chewing his bottom lip, hesitantly lifting a hand as if he was about to knock before retracting it and shaking his head, telling himself he couldn't do it.
over and over and over again.
for a moment, he thought over the events of the last month again.
the fight that'd started it all. the breakup. you drunk-texting him and kissing him in his car. then your relentless pining for him. somewhere between that, kamo had entered the picture, and his own dogs and best friends had betrayed him.
then last week. you in his kitchen again like you'd never left. asking him that question that'd made his gut turn inside out.
'is there anything i can do?'
megumi's throat bobbed with the effort of holding back tears for the umpteenth time tonight as the memory unearthed itself, murkily flashing before his eyes distastefully.
'anything? to make us normal again?'
and then you'd given up.
and then tsumiki had given him a much-needed talking to. and hadn't left him alone since. his older sister had been texting him everyday since she'd left his place, checking in with him, asking if he'd talked to you, inquiring on when he finally planned to rip the band-aid and do it.
and tonight, he'd done it. only to be met with well deserved anger and refusal. he'd been expecting it, of course. hells knew he deserved it and much, much more from you. mournfully, he'd accepted it, then shut off his phone and stared at his ceiling for a solid hour.
because he'd finally gone and done it.
all those times he'd thought he'd lost you for good, he couldn't be further from the truth.
now, though?
he had.
he had lost you and you weren't coming back.
or so he thought, because then you messaged him again.
'come over.'
and he had.
'we can talk but u on thin ice'
and he knew.
still in his pyjamas, he'd practically soared out of his sheets, thrown a jacket on and shoved his keys into his pocket. he hadn't even bothered to change out of his house slippers, headset on the front door.
until a half-asleep yuuji on the sat up from the couch, all bed-hair and bleary eyes, the tv on, some love island knockoff playing in the background. he always managed to find some new trash tv to watch. he rubbed his eyes with his fist, confused and dazed, "hey... where you goin'?"
megumi froze, turned and cleared his throat. he'd honestly thought yuuji was asleep when he walked past him just seconds prior. "weren't you just snoring?"
yuuji laughed, raspy, "oh, yeah. i do that for fun sometimes."
"oh... okay." megumi muttered, his own tired brain struggling to catch up. he clawed around his mind for any excuse he could give as to why he was leaving so late, but it was hard to think of anything but you. "uh. i'm getting groceries."
shit.
yuuji blinked, eyes going to the analogue clock on the wall, which read two forty-five am, and then to a window, where the pitch black night sky stared back at him. then he shrugged, "oh, okay."
megumi stared back in disbelief. did he really buy that? sleep deprivation is a powerful thing.
but then again, he thought, a fully awake yuuji probably would've bought it too.
"stupidity is the real power." megumi thought aloud under his breath.
"huh?"
"nothing." he turned to leave.
"waaaait..." yuuji called, then a lopsided, tired grin came to his face, "get me that ramen i like."
"...fine."
and then megumi was gone.
and now he was here. heart lodged somewhere in his throat, blocking every effort he made to swallow his pride and just do it, just knock, and talk to you. even if you didn't accept it. even if you hated him forever. even if you never spoke to him again after tonight.
he had to let you make the decision this time.
he squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fist hard, nails digging into his palm, and finally lifted his hand and knocked.
footsteps padded towards the door. his heartbeat thumped in his ears, and it took everything in him not to run, to find the nearest exit and to continue avoiding the truth.
the door creaked open, and you stood there, your image mirroring his— pyjamas, messy hair, eyes red-rimmed both from tears and exhaustion, you sniffled, wiped your face with your sleeve, then stared at him.
he stared back.
"...hi."
you didn't bother greeting him back, just sighed and stepped aside, letting him in, then trudged over to the kitchenette. you leaned your hip against the counter, arms folded over your middle in a protective posture, facing away from him.
because you knew if you looked at his face for a moment longer, you'd give in.
you spoke one word, "talk." and when you did, it was hard, raspy and monotone. nothing like the sweet and loving tone that'd always been reserved for him.
megumi stared at your back, still stood by the door, biting the inside of his cheek.
a thin veil of silence stretched over the two of you for a few beats. nothing but the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking clock.
tik. tik. tik.
and then he talked.
"i'm sorry." the words hung between the two of you. "i know that fixes nothing."
"yeah." you muttered back dryly.
your cold tone made megumi's chest hurt. but he shook off the ache. this wasn't about him. and he knew he didn't deserve to hear your warm voice when his own frozen hell had caused you endlessly greater pain than he could ever imagine.
megumi rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to lose his train of thought, "that night we broke up," he acknowledged, watching the way your shoulder muscles tensed on the right side where the fabric of your sleep shirt hung off the side. his own throat tightened at the memory, "i wasn't upset about that fight."
you didn't speak. or move.
"i was..." megumi looked down, closing his eyes. this was it. the band-aid. he cleared his throat, feeling tears build along his pinkened waterline, blurring his vision. and then he ripped it. "i suggested we should break up, and i regretted it immediately."
you blinked.
he continued.
"i held our relationship over your head. i made it seem like i wasn't willing to fight for us. that i... didn't love you enough to fight for us."
you heard his voice crack at the word 'love', then a pause, as if he was wiping away tears. and it took all your remaining pride and composure not to turn around. you stared ahead, eyes trained on a fridge magnet, willing yourself to stay stubborn, to stay cold, to give him all he'd given you and more.
"that isn't true." his voice trembled, "and i still don't know why i said it. and i hate myself for it. i... keep thinking about the way your face fell, and how you started crying and begging me to tell me i didn't mean it, and..." megumi sniffled, "i didn't. i knew i didn't. i should've taken it back, i should've apologised, i should've... done a lot. but in that moment, all i saw was that i'd done something so unforgivable, that i'd let my anger control me and hurt you without even realising, and i told myself that if i left you, i'd be protecting you."
"that's bullshit." you finally whispered, silently cursing yourself, because you'd wanted to save it all for the end. to bask in the satisfaction of listening to it all and turning him away. to let him hurt.
"i know." megumi responded.
and you stilled, not having expected that answer from him.
"all this time, i thought pushing you away was the best thing i could do for you. i thought, if i'd done something like that without realising, even if i apologised and you forgave me, what if i did it again?" he breathed out a bitter laugh, "if i didn't see it coming the first time, who's to say it wouldn't happen a second time?"
your jaw tensed. you had so much you wanted to say, you felt rage building in your chest at how convoluted and selfish and dumb and megumi that takeaway was, but before you could even voice it, he did it for you.
"that was selfish of me." megumi said, "i was making decisions for you, without ever once considering what you might want. i told myself i was protecting you, but really, i was protecting myself."
the words felt familiar. tsumiki's. his sister's wisdom. the truth.
he hoped he sounded right. he didn't have the way with words she did, and he'd never been good at communicating his feelings, but for you, he'd try, and he'd learn, even if you decided you didn't forgive him tonight or ever again.
"i was scared," he added, "because if i let you make the decision to forgive me, then i'd also have to forgive myself for what i said."
his eyes burned.
"so i watched you keep showing up, keep trying, keep fighting for me, and i pushed you away every time."
megumi stepped closer. a small, meek, unsure one at first, then a larger one, closing the space between the two of you whilst still leaving your bubble undisturbed, leaving the power in your hands.
"i miss you every day." his throat felt raw.
honesty hurt.
he swallowed it down anyway and took another step.
"i miss talking to you."
his eyes stung.
"i miss seeing you."
he took one more step, and stopped.
"i miss waking up every day and knowing you're mine."
now your eyes welled up. you looked down, blinking hard as tears rolled down your cheeks. your lips trembled as a choked sob clawed its way up your wrecked throat, but you held it in with your tongue, swiping at your nose with your sleeve.
megumi noticed the shift in your body language, from firm and angry and protective to small and sad and longing. he hated himself for it. for all for it. for ever making you feel this way. for the knowledge that all this heartbreak could've been avoided.
"i love you." he whispered.
that did it.
your chest caved in and a small cry escaped you.
"i never stopped." megumi's heart hurt at the sight before him. knowing that yet again, he was the cause of your tears, your pain, your suffering, and he couldn't hold you, couldn't comfort you, couldn't tell you everything was alright and that this was all just one big, bad dream. his vision clouded with more stinging tears, persisting, no matter how hard he blinked them back, "that day, last week, you asked me something."
you visibly cringed at the memory, eyes squeezing shut tight.
"you asked if there was anything you could do to make us normal." he looked down, shaking his head sadly, "and there wasn't. not because of anything you did or didn't do. but because i refused to let you in." he pressed his lips together, "i'm the one who should be asking you that question."
the silence after made your ears ring.
"if you tell me you never want to see me again, i'll understand." he added, "i won't make any more decisions for you." his voice cracked, "but if there's even a small part of you that still wants this... if there's anything i can do to fix this..." his voice trailed off. done speaking. still unsure if anything he'd just said was right or enough.
megumi stared at your back for a solid minute.
you stood there, weeping, thinking over his words, breathing shakily and deeply.
then finally, for the first time the entire conversation, you turned your head, looking back at him over your shoulder.
megumi stared back at you, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks shiny with tear tracks and eyes watery and longing for you, yet waiting patiently for your verdict.
something told you he would've stood there until the sun rose for you if that was what you needed.
"get on your knees." your voice croaked with disuse.
megumi blinked, body going rigid, brows drawing together, unsure if he misheard you.
then slowly, dangerously, a familiar burning glint reentered your eyes.
megumi recognised it.
the look you got right before causing problems.
"...what?"
you sniffled. rubbed your eye and fully turned you body to face him, looking at him properly and giving him a proper look at you.
"you heard me." you said, tilting your head as if daring him to question you again.
silence.
megumi stared, still struggling to compute your command. were you serious?
you stared back, entirely serious.
he swallowed.
then his tall figure sank.
both knees hit your kitchen tiles. his chin tipped up, eyes on you, waiting for your next move.
you stood there. watching him. then pushed off the counter and took a final step, closing the space between you. you leaned down, nose mere inches apart from his, so close you could feel each other's warm breath on your skin.
"apologise." you commaned.
"...i'm sorry." megumi said.
you cocked your head to the side, "why'd you hesitate?"
"i'm sorry." he said again, firmer this time.
"beg me to take you back."
he sputtered.
megumi's eyes raked over your tear-covered face in pure disbelief. he'd just spilt his guts out to you, and this was what you wanted from him?
you raised an eyebrow expectantly.
he looked down at the ground, a pink hue rising to his cheeks. "please take me back."
"look at me when you say it."
he sighed, "please t—"
"oh, i'm sorry," you folded your arms, voice dripping in mockery, "is this an inconvenience to you?"
"no." he mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, then opening them again and looking at you, "please take me back."
you studied him a few moments, as if contemplating the sincerity of his plea.
then a very pleased grin split your face.
you stood again to your full height, thoroughly satisfied, and ruffled his already messy hair, "i knew it'd all work out in my favour."
Sukuna just won't quit trying to get your attention, and for once, despite all the red flags, you give in.
The ambient chatter of the campus café faded into a low hum, eclipsed by the sheer, imposing presence of the guy sitting across from you. Ryomen Sukuna.
He leaned back in the vinyl booth, his broad frame making the sturdy wooden chair look like a toy. A smirk played on his lips, full of the effortless, infuriating confidence that came with being the campus's most notorious frat guy. He looked entirely out of place next to your stacks of highlighters, color-coded flashcards, and heavy textbooks. Yet, here he was. Again.
"You're wasting your time on me," you muttered, your voice laced with a exhaustion that ran bone-deep.
Sukuna didn’t even blink. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, effectively invading your neat little sanctuary of study materials. His dark eyes locked onto yours, intense and unyielding.
"I'd waste all the time in the world to be with you."
You let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. That was the sixth time this week you’d found yourself letting out that exact same sigh, and frankly, it was only Thursday. By your mental tally, this was the eighth time this month that Sukuna had managed to track you down, trailing after you like a shadow you couldn’t shake.
The worst part about Sukuna’s sudden, hyper-fixated pursuit was his complete lack of shame. Most guys, when rejected once or twice, would back off to save face. Not him. Sukuna didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care about the whispers that followed him through the quad, or the amused glances from his fraternity brothers when they saw him getting shot down for the umpteenth time.
He was relentless.
The Class Ambushes: Every Tuesday and Thursday, the moment your lecture ended and you stepped out of the building, he’d be leaning against the brick wall, tossing a football or scrolling through his phone, waiting to walk you to your next building.
You noticed how he left exam care packages. Just last week, during midterms, you arrived at your usual library desk to find a large iced caramel macchiato and a fresh warm muffin waiting for you. A messy, handwritten note attached simply read: Don't forget to eat. - S.
He had somehow gotten your Instagram from a mutual acquaintance, and though you never added him back, he still managed to find ways to bump into you in a university of thirty thousand students.
For the first time in campus history, it seemed like Ryomen Sukuna was genuinely down bad. The rumor mill was in overdrive. The campus playboy, the guy who broke hearts by the dozen and lived for weekend rages, was suddenly acting like a smitten schoolboy.
But you couldn't care less.
You looked at his sharp jawline, the casual set of his shoulders in his varsity jacket, and the expensive watch ticking on his wrist. What good would a partying frat boy do for someone like you? You had a future to build, a GPA to maintain, and a strict timeline to get into graduate school.
Sukuna was a walking, talking distraction. He represented everything that could go wrong in your structured life:
The distraction being-Late-night parties, endless drama, and a lifestyle that clashed violently with your 6:00 AM study alarms.
He is a guy with who's reputation didn't just change overnight. Cheating felt less like a risk and more like an inevitability.
In the end when he inevitably got bored of the chase, you’d be left picking up the pieces of your broken heart while he moved on to the next girl.
They were all distinct possibilities, and frankly, you didn't feel like dealing with any of them. Why was he so persistent anyway? What was the game here? Was it a bet? A dare?
Here he was yet again, sitting right in front of you at your usual study spot in the dimly lit corner of the campus café. Before you could even pull out your wallet, he had already slid his black card to the barista, paying for both your triple-shot espresso and his own drink before sliding into the booth across from you.
"Seriously, Ryomen," you huffed, closing your laptop with a soft thud and looking at him with a look of profound annoyance. "What exactly is it that you want from me? Look at us. We're complete opposites."
Sukuna didn’t flinch at your cold tone. Instead, his smirk softened just a fraction, turning into something genuine that made your chest tighten uncomfortably.
"I want a chance is all," he said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated right through the wooden table. "Just try dating me for a week or two. If you hate it, if I ruin your life like you seem to think I will, you can walk away. No strings. No checking up on you. But give me two weeks to see if you want it to be permanent."
You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke, a hidden camera, or the smug satisfaction of a con artist. There was none. There was only a quiet, burning intensity that made you feel incredibly small and incredibly seen all at the same time.
"Two weeks," you repeated slowly, tapping your highlighter against the table. "You honestly think you can survive two weeks in my world, Sukuna? I don't go to Greek row. I don't drink jungle juice out of plastic tubs. My idea of a wild Friday night is getting through three chapters of organic chemistry and sleeping for eight full hours."
Sukuna chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled from his chest. He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Sounds thrilling. Sign me up. I'll even quiz you on the chemistry."
"You don't even know what an organic molecule looks like," you shot back, rolling your eyes, though a tiny, treacherous spark of amusement flared in your chest.
"Try me," he challenged, his dark eyes flashing. "Look, I know what you think of me. You think I’m some brainless jock who only cares about the next tailgate. And maybe I’ve given people a reason to think that. But I’m not playing a game with you. If I wanted a easy hookup, I wouldn't be spending my Thursday afternoons listening to the indie-pop playlist this coffee shop has had on loop for three hours just to look at the top of your head while you study."
You bit your inside lip. He had a point. If this was a joke, it was a wildly inefficient one for someone with his social calendar.
"Fine," you said suddenly, the word slipping out before your rational brain could stop it.
Sukuna’s eyes widened slightly, a genuine flash of surprise crossing his features before a massive, triumphant grin broke across his face. "Fine? As in, yes?"
"As in, you have exactly fourteen days," you said, pointing your highlighter at him like a weapon. "But we do this on my terms. No parties. No bringing your loud friends into my space. You want to date me? You adapt to my schedule. If you skip a single study session we agree on, or if I catch you slacking, the deal is off."
"Done," he said instantly, leaning forward to seal the deal. He extended a hand across the table, his large, calloused palm waiting for yours. "Fourteen days to prove I’m worth your time."
You looked at his hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second, before wrapping your fingers around his. His grip was warm, firm, and completely grounding. As you pulled your hand back, you couldn't shake the sudden, terrifying feeling that you had just made a deal with a very handsome, very dangerous devil—and that your carefully ordered life was never going to be the same again.
The first few days of the arrangement were a masterclass in tension. True to his word, Sukuna showed up.
On Friday night, instead of being at the massive frat mixer everyone on campus was talking about, he was sitting on the floor of your apartment living room. He had brought over a massive takeout bag of Thai food, and he was currently staring blankly at a diagram of a cell membrane.
"So, the sodium-potassium pump," Sukuna muttered, tracing a line with a pencil that looked comically small in his hand. "It basically acts like a bouncer for the cell? Keeping the bad stuff out, letting the good stuff in?"
You paused your typing, looking down at him from the couch. He had discarded his usual varsity jacket, wearing just a plain black t-shirt that stretched tight across his shoulders. His hair was messy, and he actually looked like he was trying.
"Yeah," you said softly, surprise filtering into your voice. "That's... actually a really good analogy."
Sukuna looked up, a smug grin immediately plastering his face. "See? Told you I have a brain. You just have to give me a reason to use it."
"Don't get cocky, Ryomen. That's bio 101. We haven't even gotten to the hard stuff."
"Bring it on," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, intense focus. The playful arrogance was there, but beneath it was something entirely different—a genuine desire to please you. It was disarming.
As the days bled into the next week, the changes became more noticeable. He didn't just show up; he anticipated what you needed. When you had a breakdown over a missing source for a research paper on Tuesday, he didn't tell you to calm down or offer empty platitudes. He quietly opened his own laptop, asked for the thesis topic, and spent two hours filtering through academic databases until he found three peer-reviewed journals that fit perfectly.
"Where did you learn how to do Boolean search terms?" you asked, staring at the screen in disbelief.
Sukuna shrugged, taking a sip of his energy drink. "My older brother is a lawyer. He made me do his legal research formatting when I was in high school as punishment whenever I got caught sneaking out. Turns out, it's useful for something other than getting grounded."
You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you—a bright, genuine sound that made Sukuna stop completely. He just watched you, a soft, uncharacteristic expression on his face, until you flushed and looked back down at your notes.
By the end of the first week, the campus dynamic had shifted. Walking with Sukuna wasn't the agonizing chore you thought it would be. He was like a human shield against the rest of the world. People gave you space; the chaotic energy of the university quad seemed to part around him, leaving a quiet pocket of peace just for the two of you.
But the doubts didn't disappear entirely. They just changed shape.
It happened on Thursday night, exactly one week into the arrangement. You were walking back from the library late, the campus illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlights. Sukuna was carrying your heavy backpack over one shoulder, his free hand occasionally brushing against yours as you walked.
"Hey, Sukuna?" you asked, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.
"Yeah?"
"Why me?"
He stopped walking, turning to look at you beneath the shadow of a massive oak tree. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... look around," you said, gesturing vaguely toward the dark campus. "You could have anyone. There are dozens of girls who would jump at the chance to be with you, who actually want to go to the parties, who wouldn't make you sit in a stuffy library for six hours a day. Why did you spend a month chasing someone who kept telling you no?"
Sukuna was quiet for a long moment. He dropped your backpack to the ground, stepping closer until the heat radiating off his body shielded you from the wind. He reached out, his thumb gently catching a stray lock of hair that had blown across your face, tucking it behind your ear. His touch was incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to his rough exterior.
"Because they like the idea of me," he said, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable. "They like the guy who throws the parties. They like the guy who doesn't care about anything. But when I'm around you... I don't have to perform. You don't care about the reputation, or the frat, or any of the bullshit. You see right through it."
He stepped closer, his chest nearly touching yours.
"And honestly?" he whispered, his eyes dropping to your lips for a fleeting second before returning to your eyes. "You're the only thing on this entire campus that feels real to me. I was tired of chasing things that didn't matter. I wanted something that did."
Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic, wild rhythm. The logical, analytical part of your brain was screaming at you to run, to remind yourself of the risks, to protect your heart. But looking up at him, seeing the raw honesty in his dark eyes, those defenses felt incredibly flimsy.
The second week felt less like a trial and more like a routine you didn't want to break.
You found yourself looking forward to the text messages checking in on your day. You found yourself buying two coffees in the morning instead of one, knowing he'd show up at your locker with a sleepy grin, waiting to take your bag.
He didn't try to force you into his world, but he did open the door to it. On Friday, he invited you to his fraternity house—not for a party, but during the day, when the house was completely empty and quiet.
"Come here," he said, leading you past the empty main hall that usually smelled like stale beer, up the stairs to his private room.
His room was surprisingly clean. There were football trophies on a shelf, yes, but there was also a massive drafting table covered in complex architectural blueprints.
"You're an architecture major?" you asked, stepping up to the table and looking at the intricate, hand-drawn lines of a massive library complex.
"Minoring in it," Sukuna said, rubbing the back of his neck, a rare flush of color hitting his cheeks. "My dad wants me to take over his construction firm, but I wanted to actually learn how to design the buildings first. I don't really talk about it with the guys in the house. They think it's a waste of time compared to business management."
You looked from the blueprints to him, a sudden wave of understanding washing over you. He wasn't a brainless jock running away from a future; he was a guy hiding his passions because it was easier to play the role everyone expected of him. Just like you were hiding behind your books because it was easier than risking getting hurt.
"It's beautiful, Sukuna," you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the paper. "Seriously. This is incredible."
Sukuna didn't say anything. He just stepped up behind you, his hands resting gently on your hips, pulling you back against his chest. You didn't pull away. You leaned into him, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against your back.
"Seven days left," he murmured into your hair. "Am I still a distraction?"
"Yes," you whispered, turning around in his arms to face him. "A massive one. But... maybe you're a distraction I'm starting to like."
The final day of the two weeks arrived with a quiet finality. It was a Thursday afternoon, exactly fourteen days since he had sat across from you in the café and demanded a chance.
You were sitting at the exact same booth. The café was just as crowded, the indie-pop music just as faint, the ambient noise just as loud. But everything else felt entirely different.
You weren't studying. Your laptop was closed, your books packed away in your bag. You were just waiting.
The bell above the door chimed, and you looked up. Sukuna walked in, his eyes immediately scanning the room until they landed on you. He walked over, but he didn't slide into the booth across from you this time. He stood at the edge of the table, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking uncharacteristically nervous.
"Time's up," Sukuna said, his voice flat, masking whatever anxiety he was feeling. "Fourteen days. I didn't skip a session. I didn't drag you to a party. I did everything you asked."
You looked up at him, letting the silence stretch between you for a long, agonizing moment. The playboy of the campus looked like he was waiting for a jury's verdict.
"You did," you agreed softly.
"So?" He stepped closer, his jaw tight. "Do I get to keep wasting my time on you, or do I walk away?"
You stood up from the booth, grabbing your backpack. You stepped out of the aisle, standing directly in front of him. For a moment, you looked at the broad shoulders, the sharp jaw, the reputation that had terrified you two weeks ago. Then, you looked at the guy who had spent hours learning cell biology, who drew beautiful buildings in secret, and who looked at you like you were the only person in a crowded room.
You reached out, your fingers wrapping around the collar of his varsity jacket, pulling him down just enough so you could press your lips to his.
Sukuna froze for a fraction of a second in sheer shock before his hands came out of his pockets, resting against your waist and pulling you flush against him. The kiss was deep, desperate, and full of a profound relief that echoed through both of you. It wasn't the practiced, casual kiss of a guy who did this every weekend; it was tight, possessive, and terrified of letting go.
When you finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, Sukuna’s hands stayed firmly on your hips, refusing to let you step away.
"I take it that means I stay," he breathed, a massive, breathless grin spreading across his face, his dark eyes shining with a triumph far greater than any football game he'd ever won.
"You stay," you whispered, a small smile breaking across your own face as you rested your hands against his chest. "But for the record? You're still a terrible influence on my GPA."
"I can live with that," Sukuna laughed, leaning down to kiss you again, completely unbothered by the stares of the crowded café around you. "I can definitely live with that."
𓆩♡𓆪 summary: right when the lights snap off, yuji decides to take matters into his own hands. big mistake. sukuna is trapped in the backseat losing his mind over yuji's terrible science logic and total lack of survival instincts.
Note: oops... heh this is like 2x longer than chapter two my hand slipped LMAO. turned out yuji trying to explain how a power grid works took up way too many words. enjoy the accidental meal!! 😭
The hum was the first thing to go.
It was that low, vibrating drone of the dorm’s mini-fridge and the faint whir of the AC that you never actually notice until it’s gone. Then, a sharp click. And then? Total. Freaking. Darkness.
Yuji sat up so fast his skull cracked right into the wooden bedpost. "Ow, shit," he muttered, rubbing his head and blinking hard into the void. The dark was heavy, like a suffocating wool blanket thrown over his face... or something. He swung his legs out of bed, completely forgetting the massive mountain of heavy manga volumes and his steel-toed boots that he left right next to his teal slippers.
CRASH.
Face-first into his laundry hamper. UGHHH. A sharp, blinding throb shot right from his pinky toe and he was pretty sure he broke it.
“Quiet, brat,” a voice hissed, sounding incredibly annoyed already. A crimson eye ripped open on Yuji’s cheek, followed by a jagged mouth cutting across his jawline. “Must you thrash about like a dying fish because the sun went down?! Your clumsy staggering is vibrating through my entire domain!!”
"I tripped!" Yuji hissed back, fumbling blindly through a pile of hoodies on the floor. "Where is my flashlight? I swear I left it on the desk..."
“In my era, men hunted apex predators in the dead of winter without a single spark to guide them,” Sukuna sneered, his voice echoing inside Yuji’s head with absolute annoyance. “If the night came, we ruled it. You modern cattle have traded your basic survival instincts for glowing glass boxes, and now you are defeated by a square room. You are profoundly boring, boy. Pathetic.”
"Yeah, well, your era didn't have Legos on the floor," Yuji grumbled. He finally snagged a plastic cylinder under his bed. Click. Nothing. He shook it hard. A faint, sad orange flicker died instantly. "Great. Dead batteries. Of course."
He shuffled out into the hallway and honestly it felt weirdly eerie when it was this quiet. Usually, he could hear Nobara’s TV blasting through the drywall or Megumi’s heavy sighs from two doors down but now? Total vacuum.
"Gojo-sensei's gonna know what's up," Yuji said, keeping one hand flat against the cold wall to guide himself so he didnt crash into anything else.
“Ah, yes. Run to your white-haired master,” Sukuna mocked, a mouth forming on the back of Yuji’s hand just to let out an irritated click of the tongue. “Tell me, brat, does he also tuck you into bed when the thunder claps?! If a curse walked through that door right now, you would probably try to illuminate it to death with that useless plastic stick in your hand.”
"He's the adult here!" Yuji muttered, knocking loudly on Gojo's door. "Sensei?! You in there?? The power's out!!"
No answer. He pushed it open. A long, creepy creak. The room was perfectly neat, completely empty, and freezing cold.
"Huh. Not here."
“So your sorcerer god cannot even command the lightning in his own walls,” Sukuna hummed, sounding deeply unimpressed. “Tell me, how does this invisible fire even get inside this wretched building? You speak of it as if it is a servant.”
Yuji paused in the dark hallway, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh. Well, it's not magic. It's electricity. It comes from... plants. Like, power plants."
“Plants,” Sukuna repeated, his tone dripping with flat disbelief. “You harvest the energy of trees and weeds to make your tiny boxes glow.”
"No! Not like green plants! Like... factories! They burn coal, or use giant fans with the wind, or water dams. And then the electrons get all angry and zip through giant metal cables under the street right into the walls." Yuji nodded to himself, completely confident in his explanation. "And then it goes into the outlet."
“And what is an electron?”
Yuji froze. He stared into the pitch blackness of the hallway. "Like... a little spark guy. A tiny round science thing. With a minus sign on it..."
There was a long, excruciating silence inside Yuji's head. He could practically feel Sukuna's brain cells actively dying.
“You have absolutely no idea how it works, do you?” Sukuna muttered, sounding genuinely exhausted by Yuji's stupidity.
"I passed middle school science, okay!! It's just... it's like a big loop. If the wire breaks, the tiny spark guys fall out. Or stop moving. Whatever." Yuji huffed, turning back toward the stairs. "Look, the point is, we need to find the backup generator. It's basically a big engine that makes its own spark guys when the main ones die."
“You do not even possess the mental capacity to fold your own trousers correctly,” Sukuna warned, his tone shifting back to pure annoyance as Yuji started jogging down the dark concrete stairs. “Turn back, boy. Your idiot delusions are giving me a headache.”
On his way down, Yuji stopped by the massive window at the end of the stairwell and he wiped a layer of condensation off the glass and looked out and his breath literal hitched. Usually, the Tokyo skyline was a blinding bruise of neon pinks, blues, and electric white. Tonight? Just a massive, ink-black void stretching out for miles. The streetlights on the highway below were totally dead. The skyscrapers were nothing but jagged silhouettes against a starless sky.
"Whoa..." Yuji whispered, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. "It's the whole city."
Inside his innate domain, Sukuna sat up on his throne of skulls, resting his chin on his fist with a dark, amused smirk. “A kingdom built on glass and fragile threads, brought to its knees by a whisper of wind. Look at them down there, scurrying in the dirt like ants because their invisible magic strings stopped humming. Delightful.”
"I can't just sit here," Yuji said, tearing his eyes away from the window. "Whole city or not, I gotta try. There's a backup generator in the basement storage room. I saw Principal Yaga messing with it once."
Yuji burst through the heavy basement door and the air smelled thick like dust and old motor oil. Guided by the faint gray light from a high, narrow window, he found the massive metal box bolted to the floor. Yuji stared at it. He pulled a lever. Click. Nothing. He slammed his fist against the side. Clang. Still absolutely nothing.
"Okay... how do you turn this thing on?" Yuji muttered, squinting at a maze of heavy copper wires and an open circuit board that looked completely fried. "Maybe it just needs a spark..."
He looked at his hand, then back at the exposed, frayed bunch of wires sticking out of the generator's open chest. Cursed energy is just energy, right? Like, it makes sense.
"If I just... channel a little bit of Divergent Fist into the main fuse..." Yuji reasoned, balling his hand into a fist. A bright, crackling blue aura of cursed energy sparked around his knuckles, lighting up the dark basement in a sharp, eerie glow. "It should act like a jumper cable. It'll get the little spark guys moving."
He extended his glowing fist, leaning in close. Inches away from a highly volatile, completely ungrounded electrical grid.
“ARE YOU GENUINELY BRAIN-DEAD?!?”
Sukuna’s voice shattered the silence like a thunderclap.
Before Yuji’s fist could touch the wires, the mouth on the back of his right hand opened wide and viciously clamped its teeth down onto Yuji’s own jacket sleeve, ripping his arm backward with terrifying force. At the exact same instant, Yuji's own left hand flew up against his will, delivering a brutal, resounding SMACK right across his own jaw.
"Ow!!" Yuji yelled, stumbling backward into a pile of cardboard boxes, his cursed energy instantly fizzling out. "What the hell was that for?!"
An eye and a mouth manifested aggressively on Yuji's cheek, the jaw practically unhinging with fury.
“You absolute, incomparable clown!” Sukuna roared, his voice dripping with genuine offense. “You would pour the energy of the soul into a box of copper wires?! You would disintegrate your own central nervous system and fry my vessel from the inside out! I will NOT have my soul dragged into the afterlife because my host tried to play mechanic with a pile of garbage!!”
"I was trying to help!" Yuji defended, rubbing his bruised jaw. "It's just electricity! It needs a charge!"
“It is death, you illiterate brat! Look out the window!!” Sukuna forced Yuji’s head to snap violently toward the small basement window, staring out at the pitch-black campus gates. “The entire province is dead! Your pathetic little 'spark guys' cannot jumpstart a city of millions! Go back upstairs, sit in the dark, and starve like the rest of your miserable species!”
Yuji sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked at the dead generator, then down at his bruised hand. "Yeah... alright. Fair point."
Defeated, singed, and thoroughly scolded by an ancient curse, Yuji dragged his feet back up the concrete stairs. He popped the door open back to the main floor, his stomach letting out a massive, rumbling growl that echoed in the quiet hallway.
"Man... I'm starving," Yuji muttered.
Right on cue, a loud, crashing sound echoed from the end of the hall, followed by a very familiar, incredibly annoyed screech.
"ITADORI!! IF YOU ALREADY ATE ALL THE INSTANT RAMEN IN THE DARK, I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU!!!"
Yuji blinked, a small smile returning to his face. "Nobara?"
He started walking toward the kitchen, completely ignoring Sukuna's loud, long-suffering groan vibrating deep inside his skull.
𓆩♡𓆪 summary: right when the lights snap off, yuji decides to take matters into his own hands. big mistake. sukuna is trapped in the backseat losing his mind over yuji's terrible science logic and total lack of survival instincts.
Note: oops... heh this is like 2x longer than chapter two my hand slipped LMAO. turned out yuji trying to explain how a power grid works took up way too many words. enjoy the accidental meal!! 😭
The hum was the first thing to go.
It was that low, vibrating drone of the dorm’s mini-fridge and the faint whir of the AC that you never actually notice until it’s gone. Then, a sharp click. And then? Total. Freaking. Darkness.
Yuji sat up so fast his skull cracked right into the wooden bedpost. "Ow, shit," he muttered, rubbing his head and blinking hard into the void. The dark was heavy, like a suffocating wool blanket thrown over his face... or something. He swung his legs out of bed, completely forgetting the massive mountain of heavy manga volumes and his steel-toed boots that he left right next to his teal slippers.
CRASH.
Face-first into his laundry hamper. UGHHH. A sharp, blinding throb shot right from his pinky toe and he was pretty sure he broke it.
“Quiet, brat,” a voice hissed, sounding incredibly annoyed already. A crimson eye ripped open on Yuji’s cheek, followed by a jagged mouth cutting across his jawline. “Must you thrash about like a dying fish because the sun went down?! Your clumsy staggering is vibrating through my entire domain!!”
"I tripped!" Yuji hissed back, fumbling blindly through a pile of hoodies on the floor. "Where is my flashlight? I swear I left it on the desk..."
“In my era, men hunted apex predators in the dead of winter without a single spark to guide them,” Sukuna sneered, his voice echoing inside Yuji’s head with absolute annoyance. “If the night came, we ruled it. You modern cattle have traded your basic survival instincts for glowing glass boxes, and now you are defeated by a square room. You are profoundly boring, boy. Pathetic.”
"Yeah, well, your era didn't have Legos on the floor," Yuji grumbled. He finally snagged a plastic cylinder under his bed. Click. Nothing. He shook it hard. A faint, sad orange flicker died instantly. "Great. Dead batteries. Of course."
He shuffled out into the hallway and honestly it felt weirdly eerie when it was this quiet. Usually, he could hear Nobara’s TV blasting through the drywall or Megumi’s heavy sighs from two doors down but now? Total vacuum.
"Gojo-sensei's gonna know what's up," Yuji said, keeping one hand flat against the cold wall to guide himself so he didnt crash into anything else.
“Ah, yes. Run to your white-haired master,” Sukuna mocked, a mouth forming on the back of Yuji’s hand just to let out an irritated click of the tongue. “Tell me, brat, does he also tuck you into bed when the thunder claps?! If a curse walked through that door right now, you would probably try to illuminate it to death with that useless plastic stick in your hand.”
"He's the adult here!" Yuji muttered, knocking loudly on Gojo's door. "Sensei?! You in there?? The power's out!!"
No answer. He pushed it open. A long, creepy creak. The room was perfectly neat, completely empty, and freezing cold.
"Huh. Not here."
“So your sorcerer god cannot even command the lightning in his own walls,” Sukuna hummed, sounding deeply unimpressed. “Tell me, how does this invisible fire even get inside this wretched building? You speak of it as if it is a servant.”
Yuji paused in the dark hallway, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh. Well, it's not magic. It's electricity. It comes from... plants. Like, power plants."
“Plants,” Sukuna repeated, his tone dripping with flat disbelief. “You harvest the energy of trees and weeds to make your tiny boxes glow.”
"No! Not like green plants! Like... factories! They burn coal, or use giant fans with the wind, or water dams. And then the electrons get all angry and zip through giant metal cables under the street right into the walls." Yuji nodded to himself, completely confident in his explanation. "And then it goes into the outlet."
“And what is an electron?”
Yuji froze. He stared into the pitch blackness of the hallway. "Like... a little spark guy. A tiny round science thing. With a minus sign on it..."
There was a long, excruciating silence inside Yuji's head. He could practically feel Sukuna's brain cells actively dying.
“You have absolutely no idea how it works, do you?” Sukuna muttered, sounding genuinely exhausted by Yuji's stupidity.
"I passed middle school science, okay!! It's just... it's like a big loop. If the wire breaks, the tiny spark guys fall out. Or stop moving. Whatever." Yuji huffed, turning back toward the stairs. "Look, the point is, we need to find the backup generator. It's basically a big engine that makes its own spark guys when the main ones die."
“You do not even possess the mental capacity to fold your own trousers correctly,” Sukuna warned, his tone shifting back to pure annoyance as Yuji started jogging down the dark concrete stairs. “Turn back, boy. Your idiot delusions are giving me a headache.”
On his way down, Yuji stopped by the massive window at the end of the stairwell and he wiped a layer of condensation off the glass and looked out and his breath literal hitched. Usually, the Tokyo skyline was a blinding bruise of neon pinks, blues, and electric white. Tonight? Just a massive, ink-black void stretching out for miles. The streetlights on the highway below were totally dead. The skyscrapers were nothing but jagged silhouettes against a starless sky.
"Whoa..." Yuji whispered, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. "It's the whole city."
Inside his innate domain, Sukuna sat up on his throne of skulls, resting his chin on his fist with a dark, amused smirk. “A kingdom built on glass and fragile threads, brought to its knees by a whisper of wind. Look at them down there, scurrying in the dirt like ants because their invisible magic strings stopped humming. Delightful.”
"I can't just sit here," Yuji said, tearing his eyes away from the window. "Whole city or not, I gotta try. There's a backup generator in the basement storage room. I saw Principal Yaga messing with it once."
Yuji burst through the heavy basement door and the air smelled thick like dust and old motor oil. Guided by the faint gray light from a high, narrow window, he found the massive metal box bolted to the floor. Yuji stared at it. He pulled a lever. Click. Nothing. He slammed his fist against the side. Clang. Still absolutely nothing.
"Okay... how do you turn this thing on?" Yuji muttered, squinting at a maze of heavy copper wires and an open circuit board that looked completely fried. "Maybe it just needs a spark..."
He looked at his hand, then back at the exposed, frayed bunch of wires sticking out of the generator's open chest. Cursed energy is just energy, right? Like, it makes sense.
"If I just... channel a little bit of Divergent Fist into the main fuse..." Yuji reasoned, balling his hand into a fist. A bright, crackling blue aura of cursed energy sparked around his knuckles, lighting up the dark basement in a sharp, eerie glow. "It should act like a jumper cable. It'll get the little spark guys moving."
He extended his glowing fist, leaning in close. Inches away from a highly volatile, completely ungrounded electrical grid.
“ARE YOU GENUINELY BRAIN-DEAD?!?”
Sukuna’s voice shattered the silence like a thunderclap.
Before Yuji’s fist could touch the wires, the mouth on the back of his right hand opened wide and viciously clamped its teeth down onto Yuji’s own jacket sleeve, ripping his arm backward with terrifying force. At the exact same instant, Yuji's own left hand flew up against his will, delivering a brutal, resounding SMACK right across his own jaw.
"Ow!!" Yuji yelled, stumbling backward into a pile of cardboard boxes, his cursed energy instantly fizzling out. "What the hell was that for?!"
An eye and a mouth manifested aggressively on Yuji's cheek, the jaw practically unhinging with fury.
“You absolute, incomparable clown!” Sukuna roared, his voice dripping with genuine offense. “You would pour the energy of the soul into a box of copper wires?! You would disintegrate your own central nervous system and fry my vessel from the inside out! I will NOT have my soul dragged into the afterlife because my host tried to play mechanic with a pile of garbage!!”
"I was trying to help!" Yuji defended, rubbing his bruised jaw. "It's just electricity! It needs a charge!"
“It is death, you illiterate brat! Look out the window!!” Sukuna forced Yuji’s head to snap violently toward the small basement window, staring out at the pitch-black campus gates. “The entire province is dead! Your pathetic little 'spark guys' cannot jumpstart a city of millions! Go back upstairs, sit in the dark, and starve like the rest of your miserable species!”
Yuji sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked at the dead generator, then down at his bruised hand. "Yeah... alright. Fair point."
Defeated, singed, and thoroughly scolded by an ancient curse, Yuji dragged his feet back up the concrete stairs. He popped the door open back to the main floor, his stomach letting out a massive, rumbling growl that echoed in the quiet hallway.
"Man... I'm starving," Yuji muttered.
Right on cue, a loud, crashing sound echoed from the end of the hall, followed by a very familiar, incredibly annoyed screech.
"ITADORI!! IF YOU ALREADY ATE ALL THE INSTANT RAMEN IN THE DARK, I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU!!!"
Yuji blinked, a small smile returning to his face. "Nobara?"
He started walking toward the kitchen, completely ignoring Sukuna's loud, long-suffering groan vibrating deep inside his skull.
𓆩♡𓆪 summary: right when the lights snap off, yuji decides to take matters into his own hands. big mistake. sukuna is trapped in the backseat losing his mind over yuji's terrible science logic and total lack of survival instincts.
Note: oops... heh this is like 2x longer than chapter two my hand slipped LMAO. turned out yuji trying to explain how a power grid works took up way too many words. enjoy the accidental meal!! 😭
The hum was the first thing to go.
It was that low, vibrating drone of the dorm’s mini-fridge and the faint whir of the AC that you never actually notice until it’s gone. Then, a sharp click. And then? Total. Freaking. Darkness.
Yuji sat up so fast his skull cracked right into the wooden bedpost. "Ow, shit," he muttered, rubbing his head and blinking hard into the void. The dark was heavy, like a suffocating wool blanket thrown over his face... or something. He swung his legs out of bed, completely forgetting the massive mountain of heavy manga volumes and his steel-toed boots that he left right next to his teal slippers.
CRASH.
Face-first into his laundry hamper. UGHHH. A sharp, blinding throb shot right from his pinky toe and he was pretty sure he broke it.
“Quiet, brat,” a voice hissed, sounding incredibly annoyed already. A crimson eye ripped open on Yuji’s cheek, followed by a jagged mouth cutting across his jawline. “Must you thrash about like a dying fish because the sun went down?! Your clumsy staggering is vibrating through my entire domain!!”
"I tripped!" Yuji hissed back, fumbling blindly through a pile of hoodies on the floor. "Where is my flashlight? I swear I left it on the desk..."
“In my era, men hunted apex predators in the dead of winter without a single spark to guide them,” Sukuna sneered, his voice echoing inside Yuji’s head with absolute annoyance. “If the night came, we ruled it. You modern cattle have traded your basic survival instincts for glowing glass boxes, and now you are defeated by a square room. You are profoundly boring, boy. Pathetic.”
"Yeah, well, your era didn't have Legos on the floor," Yuji grumbled. He finally snagged a plastic cylinder under his bed. Click. Nothing. He shook it hard. A faint, sad orange flicker died instantly. "Great. Dead batteries. Of course."
He shuffled out into the hallway and honestly it felt weirdly eerie when it was this quiet. Usually, he could hear Nobara’s TV blasting through the drywall or Megumi’s heavy sighs from two doors down but now? Total vacuum.
"Gojo-sensei's gonna know what's up," Yuji said, keeping one hand flat against the cold wall to guide himself so he didnt crash into anything else.
“Ah, yes. Run to your white-haired master,” Sukuna mocked, a mouth forming on the back of Yuji’s hand just to let out an irritated click of the tongue. “Tell me, brat, does he also tuck you into bed when the thunder claps?! If a curse walked through that door right now, you would probably try to illuminate it to death with that useless plastic stick in your hand.”
"He's the adult here!" Yuji muttered, knocking loudly on Gojo's door. "Sensei?! You in there?? The power's out!!"
No answer. He pushed it open. A long, creepy creak. The room was perfectly neat, completely empty, and freezing cold.
"Huh. Not here."
“So your sorcerer god cannot even command the lightning in his own walls,” Sukuna hummed, sounding deeply unimpressed. “Tell me, how does this invisible fire even get inside this wretched building? You speak of it as if it is a servant.”
Yuji paused in the dark hallway, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh. Well, it's not magic. It's electricity. It comes from... plants. Like, power plants."
“Plants,” Sukuna repeated, his tone dripping with flat disbelief. “You harvest the energy of trees and weeds to make your tiny boxes glow.”
"No! Not like green plants! Like... factories! They burn coal, or use giant fans with the wind, or water dams. And then the electrons get all angry and zip through giant metal cables under the street right into the walls." Yuji nodded to himself, completely confident in his explanation. "And then it goes into the outlet."
“And what is an electron?”
Yuji froze. He stared into the pitch blackness of the hallway. "Like... a little spark guy. A tiny round science thing. With a minus sign on it..."
There was a long, excruciating silence inside Yuji's head. He could practically feel Sukuna's brain cells actively dying.
“You have absolutely no idea how it works, do you?” Sukuna muttered, sounding genuinely exhausted by Yuji's stupidity.
"I passed middle school science, okay!! It's just... it's like a big loop. If the wire breaks, the tiny spark guys fall out. Or stop moving. Whatever." Yuji huffed, turning back toward the stairs. "Look, the point is, we need to find the backup generator. It's basically a big engine that makes its own spark guys when the main ones die."
“You do not even possess the mental capacity to fold your own trousers correctly,” Sukuna warned, his tone shifting back to pure annoyance as Yuji started jogging down the dark concrete stairs. “Turn back, boy. Your idiot delusions are giving me a headache.”
On his way down, Yuji stopped by the massive window at the end of the stairwell and he wiped a layer of condensation off the glass and looked out and his breath literal hitched. Usually, the Tokyo skyline was a blinding bruise of neon pinks, blues, and electric white. Tonight? Just a massive, ink-black void stretching out for miles. The streetlights on the highway below were totally dead. The skyscrapers were nothing but jagged silhouettes against a starless sky.
"Whoa..." Yuji whispered, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. "It's the whole city."
Inside his innate domain, Sukuna sat up on his throne of skulls, resting his chin on his fist with a dark, amused smirk. “A kingdom built on glass and fragile threads, brought to its knees by a whisper of wind. Look at them down there, scurrying in the dirt like ants because their invisible magic strings stopped humming. Delightful.”
"I can't just sit here," Yuji said, tearing his eyes away from the window. "Whole city or not, I gotta try. There's a backup generator in the basement storage room. I saw Principal Yaga messing with it once."
Yuji burst through the heavy basement door and the air smelled thick like dust and old motor oil. Guided by the faint gray light from a high, narrow window, he found the massive metal box bolted to the floor. Yuji stared at it. He pulled a lever. Click. Nothing. He slammed his fist against the side. Clang. Still absolutely nothing.
"Okay... how do you turn this thing on?" Yuji muttered, squinting at a maze of heavy copper wires and an open circuit board that looked completely fried. "Maybe it just needs a spark..."
He looked at his hand, then back at the exposed, frayed bunch of wires sticking out of the generator's open chest. Cursed energy is just energy, right? Like, it makes sense.
"If I just... channel a little bit of Divergent Fist into the main fuse..." Yuji reasoned, balling his hand into a fist. A bright, crackling blue aura of cursed energy sparked around his knuckles, lighting up the dark basement in a sharp, eerie glow. "It should act like a jumper cable. It'll get the little spark guys moving."
He extended his glowing fist, leaning in close. Inches away from a highly volatile, completely ungrounded electrical grid.
“ARE YOU GENUINELY BRAIN-DEAD?!?”
Sukuna’s voice shattered the silence like a thunderclap.
Before Yuji’s fist could touch the wires, the mouth on the back of his right hand opened wide and viciously clamped its teeth down onto Yuji’s own jacket sleeve, ripping his arm backward with terrifying force. At the exact same instant, Yuji's own left hand flew up against his will, delivering a brutal, resounding SMACK right across his own jaw.
"Ow!!" Yuji yelled, stumbling backward into a pile of cardboard boxes, his cursed energy instantly fizzling out. "What the hell was that for?!"
An eye and a mouth manifested aggressively on Yuji's cheek, the jaw practically unhinging with fury.
“You absolute, incomparable clown!” Sukuna roared, his voice dripping with genuine offense. “You would pour the energy of the soul into a box of copper wires?! You would disintegrate your own central nervous system and fry my vessel from the inside out! I will NOT have my soul dragged into the afterlife because my host tried to play mechanic with a pile of garbage!!”
"I was trying to help!" Yuji defended, rubbing his bruised jaw. "It's just electricity! It needs a charge!"
“It is death, you illiterate brat! Look out the window!!” Sukuna forced Yuji’s head to snap violently toward the small basement window, staring out at the pitch-black campus gates. “The entire province is dead! Your pathetic little 'spark guys' cannot jumpstart a city of millions! Go back upstairs, sit in the dark, and starve like the rest of your miserable species!”
Yuji sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked at the dead generator, then down at his bruised hand. "Yeah... alright. Fair point."
Defeated, singed, and thoroughly scolded by an ancient curse, Yuji dragged his feet back up the concrete stairs. He popped the door open back to the main floor, his stomach letting out a massive, rumbling growl that echoed in the quiet hallway.
"Man... I'm starving," Yuji muttered.
Right on cue, a loud, crashing sound echoed from the end of the hall, followed by a very familiar, incredibly annoyed screech.
"ITADORI!! IF YOU ALREADY ATE ALL THE INSTANT RAMEN IN THE DARK, I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU!!!"
Yuji blinked, a small smile returning to his face. "Nobara?"
He started walking toward the kitchen, completely ignoring Sukuna's loud, long-suffering groan vibrating deep inside his skull.
𓆩♡𓆪 summary: right when the lights snap off, yuji decides to take matters into his own hands. big mistake. sukuna is trapped in the backseat losing his mind over yuji's terrible science logic and total lack of survival instincts.
Note: oops... heh this is like 2x longer than chapter two my hand slipped LMAO. turned out yuji trying to explain how a power grid works took up way too many words. enjoy the accidental meal!! 😭
The hum was the first thing to go.
It was that low, vibrating drone of the dorm’s mini-fridge and the faint whir of the AC that you never actually notice until it’s gone. Then, a sharp click. And then? Total. Freaking. Darkness.
Yuji sat up so fast his skull cracked right into the wooden bedpost. "Ow, shit," he muttered, rubbing his head and blinking hard into the void. The dark was heavy, like a suffocating wool blanket thrown over his face... or something. He swung his legs out of bed, completely forgetting the massive mountain of heavy manga volumes and his steel-toed boots that he left right next to his teal slippers.
CRASH.
Face-first into his laundry hamper. UGHHH. A sharp, blinding throb shot right from his pinky toe and he was pretty sure he broke it.
“Quiet, brat,” a voice hissed, sounding incredibly annoyed already. A crimson eye ripped open on Yuji’s cheek, followed by a jagged mouth cutting across his jawline. “Must you thrash about like a dying fish because the sun went down?! Your clumsy staggering is vibrating through my entire domain!!”
"I tripped!" Yuji hissed back, fumbling blindly through a pile of hoodies on the floor. "Where is my flashlight? I swear I left it on the desk..."
“In my era, men hunted apex predators in the dead of winter without a single spark to guide them,” Sukuna sneered, his voice echoing inside Yuji’s head with absolute annoyance. “If the night came, we ruled it. You modern cattle have traded your basic survival instincts for glowing glass boxes, and now you are defeated by a square room. You are profoundly boring, boy. Pathetic.”
"Yeah, well, your era didn't have Legos on the floor," Yuji grumbled. He finally snagged a plastic cylinder under his bed. Click. Nothing. He shook it hard. A faint, sad orange flicker died instantly. "Great. Dead batteries. Of course."
He shuffled out into the hallway and honestly it felt weirdly eerie when it was this quiet. Usually, he could hear Nobara’s TV blasting through the drywall or Megumi’s heavy sighs from two doors down but now? Total vacuum.
"Gojo-sensei's gonna know what's up," Yuji said, keeping one hand flat against the cold wall to guide himself so he didnt crash into anything else.
“Ah, yes. Run to your white-haired master,” Sukuna mocked, a mouth forming on the back of Yuji’s hand just to let out an irritated click of the tongue. “Tell me, brat, does he also tuck you into bed when the thunder claps?! If a curse walked through that door right now, you would probably try to illuminate it to death with that useless plastic stick in your hand.”
"He's the adult here!" Yuji muttered, knocking loudly on Gojo's door. "Sensei?! You in there?? The power's out!!"
No answer. He pushed it open. A long, creepy creak. The room was perfectly neat, completely empty, and freezing cold.
"Huh. Not here."
“So your sorcerer god cannot even command the lightning in his own walls,” Sukuna hummed, sounding deeply unimpressed. “Tell me, how does this invisible fire even get inside this wretched building? You speak of it as if it is a servant.”
Yuji paused in the dark hallway, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh. Well, it's not magic. It's electricity. It comes from... plants. Like, power plants."
“Plants,” Sukuna repeated, his tone dripping with flat disbelief. “You harvest the energy of trees and weeds to make your tiny boxes glow.”
"No! Not like green plants! Like... factories! They burn coal, or use giant fans with the wind, or water dams. And then the electrons get all angry and zip through giant metal cables under the street right into the walls." Yuji nodded to himself, completely confident in his explanation. "And then it goes into the outlet."
“And what is an electron?”
Yuji froze. He stared into the pitch blackness of the hallway. "Like... a little spark guy. A tiny round science thing. With a minus sign on it..."
There was a long, excruciating silence inside Yuji's head. He could practically feel Sukuna's brain cells actively dying.
“You have absolutely no idea how it works, do you?” Sukuna muttered, sounding genuinely exhausted by Yuji's stupidity.
"I passed middle school science, okay!! It's just... it's like a big loop. If the wire breaks, the tiny spark guys fall out. Or stop moving. Whatever." Yuji huffed, turning back toward the stairs. "Look, the point is, we need to find the backup generator. It's basically a big engine that makes its own spark guys when the main ones die."
“You do not even possess the mental capacity to fold your own trousers correctly,” Sukuna warned, his tone shifting back to pure annoyance as Yuji started jogging down the dark concrete stairs. “Turn back, boy. Your idiot delusions are giving me a headache.”
On his way down, Yuji stopped by the massive window at the end of the stairwell and he wiped a layer of condensation off the glass and looked out and his breath literal hitched. Usually, the Tokyo skyline was a blinding bruise of neon pinks, blues, and electric white. Tonight? Just a massive, ink-black void stretching out for miles. The streetlights on the highway below were totally dead. The skyscrapers were nothing but jagged silhouettes against a starless sky.
"Whoa..." Yuji whispered, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. "It's the whole city."
Inside his innate domain, Sukuna sat up on his throne of skulls, resting his chin on his fist with a dark, amused smirk. “A kingdom built on glass and fragile threads, brought to its knees by a whisper of wind. Look at them down there, scurrying in the dirt like ants because their invisible magic strings stopped humming. Delightful.”
"I can't just sit here," Yuji said, tearing his eyes away from the window. "Whole city or not, I gotta try. There's a backup generator in the basement storage room. I saw Principal Yaga messing with it once."
Yuji burst through the heavy basement door and the air smelled thick like dust and old motor oil. Guided by the faint gray light from a high, narrow window, he found the massive metal box bolted to the floor. Yuji stared at it. He pulled a lever. Click. Nothing. He slammed his fist against the side. Clang. Still absolutely nothing.
"Okay... how do you turn this thing on?" Yuji muttered, squinting at a maze of heavy copper wires and an open circuit board that looked completely fried. "Maybe it just needs a spark..."
He looked at his hand, then back at the exposed, frayed bunch of wires sticking out of the generator's open chest. Cursed energy is just energy, right? Like, it makes sense.
"If I just... channel a little bit of Divergent Fist into the main fuse..." Yuji reasoned, balling his hand into a fist. A bright, crackling blue aura of cursed energy sparked around his knuckles, lighting up the dark basement in a sharp, eerie glow. "It should act like a jumper cable. It'll get the little spark guys moving."
He extended his glowing fist, leaning in close. Inches away from a highly volatile, completely ungrounded electrical grid.
“ARE YOU GENUINELY BRAIN-DEAD?!?”
Sukuna’s voice shattered the silence like a thunderclap.
Before Yuji’s fist could touch the wires, the mouth on the back of his right hand opened wide and viciously clamped its teeth down onto Yuji’s own jacket sleeve, ripping his arm backward with terrifying force. At the exact same instant, Yuji's own left hand flew up against his will, delivering a brutal, resounding SMACK right across his own jaw.
"Ow!!" Yuji yelled, stumbling backward into a pile of cardboard boxes, his cursed energy instantly fizzling out. "What the hell was that for?!"
An eye and a mouth manifested aggressively on Yuji's cheek, the jaw practically unhinging with fury.
“You absolute, incomparable clown!” Sukuna roared, his voice dripping with genuine offense. “You would pour the energy of the soul into a box of copper wires?! You would disintegrate your own central nervous system and fry my vessel from the inside out! I will NOT have my soul dragged into the afterlife because my host tried to play mechanic with a pile of garbage!!”
"I was trying to help!" Yuji defended, rubbing his bruised jaw. "It's just electricity! It needs a charge!"
“It is death, you illiterate brat! Look out the window!!” Sukuna forced Yuji’s head to snap violently toward the small basement window, staring out at the pitch-black campus gates. “The entire province is dead! Your pathetic little 'spark guys' cannot jumpstart a city of millions! Go back upstairs, sit in the dark, and starve like the rest of your miserable species!”
Yuji sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked at the dead generator, then down at his bruised hand. "Yeah... alright. Fair point."
Defeated, singed, and thoroughly scolded by an ancient curse, Yuji dragged his feet back up the concrete stairs. He popped the door open back to the main floor, his stomach letting out a massive, rumbling growl that echoed in the quiet hallway.
"Man... I'm starving," Yuji muttered.
Right on cue, a loud, crashing sound echoed from the end of the hall, followed by a very familiar, incredibly annoyed screech.
"ITADORI!! IF YOU ALREADY ATE ALL THE INSTANT RAMEN IN THE DARK, I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU!!!"
Yuji blinked, a small smile returning to his face. "Nobara?"
He started walking toward the kitchen, completely ignoring Sukuna's loud, long-suffering groan vibrating deep inside his skull.
𓆩♡𓆪 summary: right when the lights snap off, yuji decides to take matters into his own hands. big mistake. sukuna is trapped in the backseat losing his mind over yuji's terrible science logic and total lack of survival instincts.
Note: oops... heh this is like 2x longer than chapter two my hand slipped LMAO. turned out yuji trying to explain how a power grid works took up way too many words. enjoy the accidental meal!! 😭
The hum was the first thing to go.
It was that low, vibrating drone of the dorm’s mini-fridge and the faint whir of the AC that you never actually notice until it’s gone. Then, a sharp click. And then? Total. Freaking. Darkness.
Yuji sat up so fast his skull cracked right into the wooden bedpost. "Ow, shit," he muttered, rubbing his head and blinking hard into the void. The dark was heavy, like a suffocating wool blanket thrown over his face... or something. He swung his legs out of bed, completely forgetting the massive mountain of heavy manga volumes and his steel-toed boots that he left right next to his teal slippers.
CRASH.
Face-first into his laundry hamper. UGHHH. A sharp, blinding throb shot right from his pinky toe and he was pretty sure he broke it.
“Quiet, brat,” a voice hissed, sounding incredibly annoyed already. A crimson eye ripped open on Yuji’s cheek, followed by a jagged mouth cutting across his jawline. “Must you thrash about like a dying fish because the sun went down?! Your clumsy staggering is vibrating through my entire domain!!”
"I tripped!" Yuji hissed back, fumbling blindly through a pile of hoodies on the floor. "Where is my flashlight? I swear I left it on the desk..."
“In my era, men hunted apex predators in the dead of winter without a single spark to guide them,” Sukuna sneered, his voice echoing inside Yuji’s head with absolute annoyance. “If the night came, we ruled it. You modern cattle have traded your basic survival instincts for glowing glass boxes, and now you are defeated by a square room. You are profoundly boring, boy. Pathetic.”
"Yeah, well, your era didn't have Legos on the floor," Yuji grumbled. He finally snagged a plastic cylinder under his bed. Click. Nothing. He shook it hard. A faint, sad orange flicker died instantly. "Great. Dead batteries. Of course."
He shuffled out into the hallway and honestly it felt weirdly eerie when it was this quiet. Usually, he could hear Nobara’s TV blasting through the drywall or Megumi’s heavy sighs from two doors down but now? Total vacuum.
"Gojo-sensei's gonna know what's up," Yuji said, keeping one hand flat against the cold wall to guide himself so he didnt crash into anything else.
“Ah, yes. Run to your white-haired master,” Sukuna mocked, a mouth forming on the back of Yuji’s hand just to let out an irritated click of the tongue. “Tell me, brat, does he also tuck you into bed when the thunder claps?! If a curse walked through that door right now, you would probably try to illuminate it to death with that useless plastic stick in your hand.”
"He's the adult here!" Yuji muttered, knocking loudly on Gojo's door. "Sensei?! You in there?? The power's out!!"
No answer. He pushed it open. A long, creepy creak. The room was perfectly neat, completely empty, and freezing cold.
"Huh. Not here."
“So your sorcerer god cannot even command the lightning in his own walls,” Sukuna hummed, sounding deeply unimpressed. “Tell me, how does this invisible fire even get inside this wretched building? You speak of it as if it is a servant.”
Yuji paused in the dark hallway, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh. Well, it's not magic. It's electricity. It comes from... plants. Like, power plants."
“Plants,” Sukuna repeated, his tone dripping with flat disbelief. “You harvest the energy of trees and weeds to make your tiny boxes glow.”
"No! Not like green plants! Like... factories! They burn coal, or use giant fans with the wind, or water dams. And then the electrons get all angry and zip through giant metal cables under the street right into the walls." Yuji nodded to himself, completely confident in his explanation. "And then it goes into the outlet."
“And what is an electron?”
Yuji froze. He stared into the pitch blackness of the hallway. "Like... a little spark guy. A tiny round science thing. With a minus sign on it..."
There was a long, excruciating silence inside Yuji's head. He could practically feel Sukuna's brain cells actively dying.
“You have absolutely no idea how it works, do you?” Sukuna muttered, sounding genuinely exhausted by Yuji's stupidity.
"I passed middle school science, okay!! It's just... it's like a big loop. If the wire breaks, the tiny spark guys fall out. Or stop moving. Whatever." Yuji huffed, turning back toward the stairs. "Look, the point is, we need to find the backup generator. It's basically a big engine that makes its own spark guys when the main ones die."
“You do not even possess the mental capacity to fold your own trousers correctly,” Sukuna warned, his tone shifting back to pure annoyance as Yuji started jogging down the dark concrete stairs. “Turn back, boy. Your idiot delusions are giving me a headache.”
On his way down, Yuji stopped by the massive window at the end of the stairwell and he wiped a layer of condensation off the glass and looked out and his breath literal hitched. Usually, the Tokyo skyline was a blinding bruise of neon pinks, blues, and electric white. Tonight? Just a massive, ink-black void stretching out for miles. The streetlights on the highway below were totally dead. The skyscrapers were nothing but jagged silhouettes against a starless sky.
"Whoa..." Yuji whispered, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. "It's the whole city."
Inside his innate domain, Sukuna sat up on his throne of skulls, resting his chin on his fist with a dark, amused smirk. “A kingdom built on glass and fragile threads, brought to its knees by a whisper of wind. Look at them down there, scurrying in the dirt like ants because their invisible magic strings stopped humming. Delightful.”
"I can't just sit here," Yuji said, tearing his eyes away from the window. "Whole city or not, I gotta try. There's a backup generator in the basement storage room. I saw Principal Yaga messing with it once."
Yuji burst through the heavy basement door and the air smelled thick like dust and old motor oil. Guided by the faint gray light from a high, narrow window, he found the massive metal box bolted to the floor. Yuji stared at it. He pulled a lever. Click. Nothing. He slammed his fist against the side. Clang. Still absolutely nothing.
"Okay... how do you turn this thing on?" Yuji muttered, squinting at a maze of heavy copper wires and an open circuit board that looked completely fried. "Maybe it just needs a spark..."
He looked at his hand, then back at the exposed, frayed bunch of wires sticking out of the generator's open chest. Cursed energy is just energy, right? Like, it makes sense.
"If I just... channel a little bit of Divergent Fist into the main fuse..." Yuji reasoned, balling his hand into a fist. A bright, crackling blue aura of cursed energy sparked around his knuckles, lighting up the dark basement in a sharp, eerie glow. "It should act like a jumper cable. It'll get the little spark guys moving."
He extended his glowing fist, leaning in close. Inches away from a highly volatile, completely ungrounded electrical grid.
“ARE YOU GENUINELY BRAIN-DEAD?!?”
Sukuna’s voice shattered the silence like a thunderclap.
Before Yuji’s fist could touch the wires, the mouth on the back of his right hand opened wide and viciously clamped its teeth down onto Yuji’s own jacket sleeve, ripping his arm backward with terrifying force. At the exact same instant, Yuji's own left hand flew up against his will, delivering a brutal, resounding SMACK right across his own jaw.
"Ow!!" Yuji yelled, stumbling backward into a pile of cardboard boxes, his cursed energy instantly fizzling out. "What the hell was that for?!"
An eye and a mouth manifested aggressively on Yuji's cheek, the jaw practically unhinging with fury.
“You absolute, incomparable clown!” Sukuna roared, his voice dripping with genuine offense. “You would pour the energy of the soul into a box of copper wires?! You would disintegrate your own central nervous system and fry my vessel from the inside out! I will NOT have my soul dragged into the afterlife because my host tried to play mechanic with a pile of garbage!!”
"I was trying to help!" Yuji defended, rubbing his bruised jaw. "It's just electricity! It needs a charge!"
“It is death, you illiterate brat! Look out the window!!” Sukuna forced Yuji’s head to snap violently toward the small basement window, staring out at the pitch-black campus gates. “The entire province is dead! Your pathetic little 'spark guys' cannot jumpstart a city of millions! Go back upstairs, sit in the dark, and starve like the rest of your miserable species!”
Yuji sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked at the dead generator, then down at his bruised hand. "Yeah... alright. Fair point."
Defeated, singed, and thoroughly scolded by an ancient curse, Yuji dragged his feet back up the concrete stairs. He popped the door open back to the main floor, his stomach letting out a massive, rumbling growl that echoed in the quiet hallway.
"Man... I'm starving," Yuji muttered.
Right on cue, a loud, crashing sound echoed from the end of the hall, followed by a very familiar, incredibly annoyed screech.
"ITADORI!! IF YOU ALREADY ATE ALL THE INSTANT RAMEN IN THE DARK, I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU!!!"
Yuji blinked, a small smile returning to his face. "Nobara?"
He started walking toward the kitchen, completely ignoring Sukuna's loud, long-suffering groan vibrating deep inside his skull.
sukuna sprawled out on your shared bed, two arms above his head, one across his stomach, and another lied idly on your thigh. his hair was messy, strands all over the place, and a few somehow shaped into bangs over his forehead. his stomach-mouth was open, softly snoring while showing off his large fangs.
and although he looked so comfortable, and the moonlight softly shone through the curtains of your quarters, you took a minute to leave. softly, you moved his large hand off your thigh, placing it close to where you slept instead.
after you’ve quietly retreated to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, sukuna almost immediately woke up from the loss of your touch.
he softly grumbled when he didn’t feel your body warmth, then he grabbed at what he wanted to be you, but instead met with sheets.
a huff escaped him, and he turned onto his side with a groan, half sitting up and using a hand to prop himself up.
“wife..” he called out, mumbling with his natural rough voice, a frown appearing on his face.
and almost as if you could sense how he already missed you dearly, not knowing how long you’d been gone, you slowly creaked the door open, walking in with a glass of water. as you sat it on the nightstand, your heart ached as sukuna blearily stared up at you with half-lidded eyes. he slowly blinked up at you like a cat, and his hair stuck up in many different directions.
some drool escaped the corner of his mouth, and you smiled. he probably didn’t even notice.
finally, you climbed into bed again, softly mumbling, “i know, i’m here,” with a smile as he already began reaching towards you to pull you closer.
your hand found his chest, and you rubbed comforting circles on his tattoos as you left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. before you could pull away, he softly nudged your head with his, letting out a soft sigh as his hand found your back.
but you reached up, hand finding his hair as you play with it. he pushed his head into your hand, asking for more touch.
“you have bed head hair,” you whispered as his eyes nearly closed.
but he murmured, shaking his head with a pout, “i do not,” he let out a dramatic huff, glaring at you with all four eyes.
“whatever you say, honey,” you mumbled as you looked down at him, hand still running through his hair.
and within seconds, he’s asleep as quickly as he woke up. this time, he’s lulled to sleep by your touch. he’s right where he wants to be, falling asleep every night in the arms of his wife.
ib this art by sukunaglazer23 on twt he’s so adorable oml
Just discovered ur blog thru the jjk blackout AU and i must say—
IF THE FIRST TWO PARTS WERE THAT FUNNY, I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE THIRD.
(translation: i need sukuna roasting our pathetic species based off of what he’s seen thru the heian era, or it could idk, devolve into yuji giving sukuna history lessons, and sukuna just not being surprised in the slightest.)
:>
expect a new follower… hehe
OMGGGGG thank you so much for the follow and the love!! 😭🖤
im literally working on it right now and your ask just gave me a massive burst of motivation lol. you hit the nail right on the head with that prediction—get ready for sukuna to be the ultimate certified hater. (as per usual tho)
i'm gonna do my best to make it absolute peak for you guys so stick around!!
