𓍼ོ true form!sukuna who lets you ride his stomach mouth.
you straddle sukuna’s broad torso, thighs already shaking as you hover over the jagged mouth splitting across his abdomen. his four eyes gleam with cruel hunger, watching every twitch of your body.
the stomach mouth opens slowly, hot breath fanning over your dripping folds before a thick, ridged tongue drags out, tasting you like he owns every inch.
“go on,” he growls, voice dripping with mockery. “ride it properly. show me how badly that greedy little cunt needs me.”
you sink down with a broken whimper as the tongue pushes inside you, thick and relentless, stretching you open while the mouth’s lips seal tight around your clit. the suction is immediate and vicious, pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves as the tongue curls deep, fucking into you with wet, obscene sounds. your hands brace on his chest, hips rolling desperately as pleasure slams through you.
it does not take long before your walls clenching hard around the invading muscle.
sukuna laughs, low and dark, the vibration making the tongue thrash even harder inside you. when you try to lift up cause it’s becoming too much, oversensitive and twitching, his massive hand snaps around your wrist like a vice.
sukuna yanks you back down forcefully, slamming your hips flush against his stomach so the mouth devours you completely again.
“where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he snarls, eyes narrowing. “you started this. now you finish it. keep riding.”
the tongue does not give you any mercy.
it pounds into you faster, twisting and dragging against every spot that makes your vision blur. the lips suck harder on your clit, relentless and wet, forcing another orgasm out of you before the first one even fades.
your thighs burn, body jerking wildly as you sob through the overstimulation, but sukuna’s grip on your wrist is iron. every time you try to pull away or rise even an inch, he drags you right back down, grinding you against the mouth.
“look at you,” he taunts, voice rough with satisfaction. “crying and shaking like a pathetic little toy. my stomach is soaked and you still can’t stop grinding on it.”
this is when a brutal wave hits you, your whole body convulsing as you cum, tears streaming down your face.
the overstimulation turns sharp and electric, every lick and thrust bordering on pain but so good you cannot stop moaning. sukuna’s free hand comes up to grip your hip, helping you move, forcing the rhythm faster and deeper.
you lose count of how many times you tired to get yourself off of him. your voice grows hoarse, legs trembling uncontrollably, slick pulling and sliding down onto his stomach as the mouth laps it all up greedily.
“kuna…” when you go limp, too exhausted to keep moving, sukuna simply uses his strength to bounce you on the tongue himself, wrist still locked in his hold so you cannot escape.
“that’s right. keep cumming for me,” he commands, another dark laugh rumbling through him. “this mouth is not done with you yet. you’ve pissed me off today, no stopping until you’re a sobbing, broken mess who forgets every thought except how full you feel.”
he keeps you there for what feels like hours, the tongue never slowing, the suction never easing, until your mind blanks out completely and all you can do is tremble and take it, trapped on top of him by his unyielding grip.
picking up your drunk ex.ᐟsukuna from the bar because you’re still his emergency contact.
cw: mdni. explicit sexual content (he is sober). plot-heavy, alcohol mention, angst, lowkey long asf, vertical prone bone, domdaddy!kuna.
you wrinkle your nose at the distinctive smell of tap beer as you push through the double doors to the bar. the lights are dim, the bar packed with groups and couples of people chatting noisily. a few rowdy men cheer at the tv screen that’s airing a soccer match.
you’d really have rather been anywhere other than here on a friday evening after a long day at work, but you were already on your way out of the office when you got the call. you frowned at the contact, mildly surprised. mostly confused.
for a whole, blissful month, you’d successfully avoided sukuna following the kitchen counter incident, for very good reason—and you weren’t exactly expecting a call any time soon.
“hello?”
“hello,” a voice had said back that was definitely not your ex’s. “uh, are you this guy’s girlfriend.”
you stopped in your path, planted a hand on your hip. “who’s speaking?”
“i work at the bar on king’s street. uh…this dude is pretty plastered. we stopped serving him an hour ago, but he won’t leave. just keeps saying he misses his girlfriend.”
“okay…” you pressed your lips together. “well, you’ve got the wrong number, i’m not his girlfriend. buh-bye—”
“hold on!” the bartender called out before you got to cut the line. “we’ll kinda need you to come pick him up, ‘cause you’re the one he has down as his emergency contact.”
you closed your eyes, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose.
which is how you find yourself in the bar in your office skirt and blouse, gaze scanning over the crowd until they land on a certain someone.
your ex isn’t exactly easy to hide. you can see his broad back even from a distance, bulking frame balancing on a barstool, hunched over the bar with his head in his hands.
you sigh through your nose before you walk through the crowd towards him. jab him in the shoulder with your almond shaped nail. he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t look up, not even after the second time.
“ryomen,” you say, voice flat.
at first you think he’s going to ignore you again. but then he lifts his head from his hands ever so slightly, like he’s trying to figure out if he heard correctly. he looks up slowly out of the corner of one crimson eye.
when he sees you with the look of an unimpressed mother, his features soften ever so slightly, brows raising with a flicker of surprise. then he looks up fully. manually pulls his brows back down into his signature smoulder.
“what are you doing here?” he husks quietly, but his deep voice carries over all the noise. it always has.
you press your lips together in a sardonic smile. “picking your drunk ass up. let’s go.”
you go to turn on your heels, but a large hand wraps around your wrist. you stop. look down at it.
when he doesn’t let up, you turn your gaze up to sukuna. his lips are parted around words he can’t seem to spit out. it’s unlike him, but so is getting drunk as fuck at a bar. alone, and on a weekday.
you guess you don’t know him as well as you used to.
when he seems to have nothing to say, you slip your hand free of his grip. turn on your heels again and make your way back through the crowd to the exit.
you don’t need to look back to know he’s following. you hear the bar door close for a second time while you focus on clearing the sidewalk as quickly as possible to get back to your car that you’ve parked around the corner.
you’re clicking in your seatbelt when the passenger door opens. he’s never been in this car. his scent quickly fills the small space, mixed with the liquor on his breath, and it makes you feel woozy.
“i’ll take you to your girlfriend’s house,” you mumble as you pull away from the curb.
he’s facing the window, forehead pressed against the glass, so you almost don’t hear him when he says, “she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”
you glance at your ex. quickly flick your eyes back to the road.
“what the f—?” you frown. “what do you mean?”
you see his head shift to face you in your peripheral. his voice is clearer when he speaks again.
“that was a complete sentence. i won’t repeat myself, woman.”
you contemplate pulling over and kicking his ungrateful ass out of your car. instead, you run your tongue along your top row of teeth.
“where the fuck am i supposed to take you then, kuna?” you huff. “your apartment is across town. it’s almost midnight.”
the asshole simply hums. you know he’s shrugged his shoulders without even looking. and then he leans his head back against the window.
you continue driving in silence, weighing up your options. you could call your best friend, except, you weren’t exactly sure you were best friends anymore. you hadn’t spoken since brunch that day, neither of you reaching out to the other. she hadn’t even told you about her breakup.
although, you aren’t all that surprised. since she was dating your ex. your ex who you’d hooked up with on her kitchen counter while they were together.
you shake your head as if to rid yourself of the memory. you wondered if that’s why they had broken up—it would make sense, and you definitely deserved her silence.
the radio hums while you weigh up your options: drive two hours across town and back to bring this fuckhead home, or bring him to your home.
you suck in a long, long breath, before flicking on your left indicator.
it’s fifteen minutes later that you thump kuna in the chest. he opens his eyes way too easily for someone that was just dead asleep. you always found that creepy.
“get out the car,” you order, before pushing your own door open and slamming it shut behind you.
once again, you don’t turn around, or hang back to help. you enter your apartment building and barely hold the door open behind you. walk up the flight of stairs to your apartment. it’s when you stop hearing his footsteps that you peek over your shoulder.
he’s slumped down on the second to top step, head in his hands again, body tilting to the side. and tilting.
you have to lunge forward to catch him before he topples over and takes a bumpy trip back down the stairs. you curse under your breath, sling his thick arm around his shoulder and put every leg day ever to the test as you attempt to lift your ex boyfriend off the ground.
his body is heavier than your deadlift pr, and you barely make it to your front door. when you push the key and twist, you both topple inside.
“fucking asshole,” you hiss, untangling your limbs from his and push yourself to your feet.
you lock the front door, and entirely plan on leaving him passed out in the hallway.
you’re unsure why you decide to drag his ass to the couch, but you do. take one last look at him, sprawled out and breathing steadily, before you retire to your bedroom.
the smell of breakfast foods wakes your brain before your body has fully caught up. you stumble out of bed wearing the t-shirt and panties you’d thrown on last night after your shower, feet shuffling out of the door towards the smell.
when you see the hulking frame bent over your kitchen counter, your first thought is that you’re being burgled, and that the burglar is helping himself to your groceries. but after you blink the sleepy haze out of your eyes, you realise the reality is worse.
you kinda would’ve preferred the burglar.
“what are you doing in my kitchen—” you take in his attire, or lack there of. “…naked?”
sukuna tuts, but doesn’t look up, pink hair falling over his forehead while he taps cinnamon sugar over a stack of french toast. your favourite. except, he’s wearing nothing but tight black boxer shorts.
“you threw out all of the clothes you kept for me in the guest room,” he says casually, back muscles flexing as he slices strawberries. “i had nothing to wear after my shower.”
you cross your arms over you chest. “y’know, it’s rude to make yourself comfortable in someone’s house without asking.
sukuna glances up with low, crimson eyes. “don’t be ridiculous,” he murmurs. “you’re far from just ‘somebody’ to me.”
you hum, noncommittal, and walk over to your breakfast bar. you lean against it and wonder how the hell you ended up like this. sukuna navigating your kitchen hardly dressed and with heart wrenching familiarity, just like old times.
you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing when he glances up at you again.
he slides a plate across bar in front of you. you hold his eyes for a moment before dropping them down, and picking up your cutlery. the toast is good, obviously. he knows how you like it. he knows almost everything about you.
it’s something you’re terribly aware of, the same way you’re aware of every movement he makes in your space. the way he moves around while he washes the dishes. he dries off his hands. picks up a coffee mug and leans against the counter.
you pause, fork halfway to your mouth. you’re about to ask him where his plate is, but remember he doesn’t do breakfast this early.
you lick cinnamon sugar of your lower lip before you speak. “why were you drinking alone?”
kuna studies your face, his own expressionless. somehow, he manages to read between the very fine lines of your indirect question. why did your relationship with my best friend end?
“she wasn’t comfortable with my alleged ‘closeness’ to my ex,” he deadpans.
you scoff. he only has one ex.
“i’d hardly call us close,” you mumble, cutting your food into bites to avoid his harsh gaze.
“no?” he asks, placing his mug down. “what would you call it, y/n?”
you roll your eyes, entirely over the conversation. you take a bite of toast to give yourself an out.
sukuna doesn’t let you get off so easily.
“she thinks we still have feelings for each other,” he continues. your heart drops ever so slightly. “do you think that’s true?”
you shake your head. “let’s not do this, ryo.”
“we don’t have to do this, pet,” he says, hand trailing the counter as he walks around it. your heart begins to race in your chest. “tell me you feel nothing for me and i’ll walk out of that door right now.”
you drop your cutlery, and it clatters noisily onto the counter. the fork slips off onto the ground. you try to open your mouth to the say the words, but when the heat of his body warms you from behind, you can’t seem to find them.
you feel him brush your hair away from your shoulder, watch his shadow in front of you completely swallow your own.
“cat got your tongue, princess?” he murmurs, voice too close to your ear. your eyes flutter shut.
“ryo, please,” you whisper, hands white-knuckling the marble, trying to ignore the unwanted growing heat between your legs.
he wraps your hair around his fist once. “please what?”
please don’t? please do? ‘please’, as a complete sentence?
when he tugs on your hair, pulling your head back in the process, your eyes squeeze tighter. you can’t look into his crimson ones—you’ll fold entirely if you do.
“will you bother trying to claim that you feel nothing for me, when your body still reacts like this?” he asks quietly, breath against your cheek.
you arch back instinctively, and know it to be a mistake when you feel the full length of his body pressed against yours. his hand moves to your hip, gripping the flesh, and you sigh out a laboured breath.
you push backwards despite yourself, pitiful, nearing desperate. sukuna’s erection pressing against your ass seems to rid you of any sense you may have.
“look at you,” he hums, hand tightening its grip on your hair, the other sliding to hold your pelvis too close to the place where you’re throbbing between the legs. “always such a slut for me, aren’t ya?”
a whimper climbs your throat, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from escaping. he leans down, blanketing your body with his own. his lips brush the shell of your ear when he says,
“you want my cock, huh.” his hand moves to palm your pussy, and you grip his forearm instinctively. “need me to take care of you, pet?”
“yes,” you breathe, so quickly it might be considered pathetic.
sukuna hums low in his throat and the sound vibrates through you. he presses against your clit through your panties and this time, you don’t manage to hold back your whimper.
“ryo, please,” you say again, breaths coming to you in pants. “please fuck me.”
“there she is,” he praises, hand dropping your hair, letting it cascade over your shoulders. “never too shy to beg for cock, were you?”
you feel him tug your panties down over your ass until they pool around your feet. hear the rustle of fabric as he does the same with his shorts.
“legs together,” he mumbles, pushing at your thigh, and you oblige so that you’re standing with your thighs entirely pressed together.
he brings his hand in front of your face, fingers to your mouth. “spit,” he orders. you dribble salvia from your mouth to his fingers, and he makes a sound of approval in his throat.
sukuna glides the wet tip of his cock over your ass, other hand still cupping your cunt, and you drop your head. you wonder that if not for the counter in front of you, you’d still be standing.
he teases the head into your opening and your fingernails press crescents into his thick forearm. when he pauses you think you might die.
“has anyone touched this pussy since me, y/n?” he asks low in your ear.
you shake your head. “no one.”
“you let anyone fuck you since me?”
“none of your b—ughh… your business,” you huff, impatient, irritated, so fucking turned on.
“i don’t think you have,” he answers his own question. “not with how much your pussy is resisting being filled right now.”
you push your hips back and another inch of his cock sinks into you, stretching you so good. the position has you feeling every vein, every ridge of his length slide against your walls and you clench around the little he’s given you, desperate for—
“more,” you moan. “fuck me, ryo. oh my god shut up and fuck me.”
you think he’ll argue.
instead, he slams his hips forward, stretching your cunt in one brutal thrust.
you moan noisly, grip slipping on the counter and pushing your breakfast plate off the other side—it crashes to the floor, and neither of you so much as flinch.
“jesus christ,” sukuna grunts as he moves his hand to grip your breast, giving you time to adjust. “it seems you’ve lost your manners since we’ve been apart, princess.”
he pulls out to the tip and grinds into you again. you turn your head, look up to find his face right there. watch the way his eyes trace every inch of your wrecked expression.
“harder,” you breathe against his lips.
he grips your throat when he kisses you, tasting like a mixture of his coffee and your cinnamon sweet lips. he kisses you slow, tongue leisurely exploring your mouth, tip nudging your sensitive spot every time his cock slides in and out of your cunt.
“tell me how much you missed this cock, brat,” sukuna grunts, breath jolting with every slap of your ass against his pelvis. “tell me you missed me.”
“fuck, i missed it, kuna,” you whine. “god, ryo, i missed your cock so much. i missed you.”
“of course you did.” his fingers press into the sides of your throat.
you don’t process the loss of his other hand until it comes swinging down hard against the right side of your ass. you whimper at the sting, and he leans down to kiss your parted lips.
“silly girl,” he mumbles against your mouth. “why would you keep us apart, huh?”
your eyes roll shut, a shiver tracing down your spine as sukuna hits that spot that ruins you over and over. the sound of his ragged breaths at your ear, the heel of his palm pressing against your pussy.
it’s too fucking much.
“bouta cum all over my cock, aren’t you pet?” he bites at your lobe. swirls his fingers over your sensitive clit. “c’mon. cum for me darling.”
a heavy, melted warmth pools low in your stomach as the first shocks of your orgasm take over. you squeeze your eyes shut while it spreads outwards, to the tips of your toes and your fingers.
kuna doesn’t stop driving into you, doesn’t stop stroking your pussy as you gasp in desperate, pathetic, shattered breaths—he only holds you up when your legs begin to give, whispers filthy praise into your ear as you hear him begin to grunt and pant into yours.
you know he’s coming too when he grips your ass hard, suddenly going quiet. his hips begin to jerk clumsily moments before he starts to spill into your still spasming cunt. you think your heart might give out when your orgasm seems to peak again, and you choke out a sob as warm liquid gushes down your legs and puddles at your feet.
sukuna drops his head to your shoulder, chest heaving against your back. he doesn’t let go of you. just presses a kiss to the side of your throat.
“why would you leave me, y/n?” he says quietly into your skin.
it shatters your heart entirely.
you don’t even have an answer, besides the fact that you loved him so much it scared you. that you couldn’t imagine your life without him, so you had to prove yourself wrong by living without him.
because in hindsight, that reasoning was the most stupid thing you’ve ever come up with.
a/n: something about this doomed pairing just pulls out the best of my literary abilities like don’t you think this series is my best characterisation to date?? chat i know the people did not fw part one but you can’t tell me this isn’t peak asf
child of divorce yuji forcing you to call your ex!husband sukuna to say goodnight.
you had refused all week to give into yuji's plan that he had stolen from the internet. you were mature, healed and too busy to deal with these little dares. but it was up until one bored evening where you had finally succumbed to his challenge.
Your phone was on speaker, with the line ringing for the contact name of your ex-husband which was simply titled 'sukuna'.
no love hearts, no kisses or nicknames. you were completely over him and have been for years. the only reason you stay in touch with him is for Yuji's sake.
"I don't think he'll pick up yuj' " you murmured to him slightly. "your dad's been busy these past few days.'
and just like the old days, Sukuna always manages to prove you wrong -he always needed to embarrass you, even when he wasn't even here in the flesh.
"hello?" a coarse voice rings out on the other end of the line.
"hello." you respond and immediately you feel your stomach fall in knots. you're nervous. and you don't even know why.
looking up at yuji, his expectant face is watching eagerly as if he enjoys torturing you. he mouths "say it! say it!" and you feel like you have no choice but to continue with your dare.
you swallow down your nerves and attempt to speak as nonchalant as possible. "I just wanted to call and say goodnight."
There's a pause and there's something inside you that just knows how much he's smirking right now.
"Oh really?" he starts putting on a sultry tone, "you haven't done that in a while, is something wrong?"
you pull a face, willing your body to not fall for his tone of voice. no you won't fall like you did all those years ago. absolutely not. "No, I just wanted to say goodnight."
"do you need me to come over and tuck you in as well or....?"
"no! uhm, I mean no I'm fine but y'know I hope you have a good night."
yuji's meanwhile in the corner of the room clenching his stomach and trying his hardest not to let out a laugh.
"hmmm."
"what?"
"cut the crap."
"I'm not-" you start but sukuna manages to cut you off pretty quickly.
"listen, either tell me what you really want or don't bother wasting my time."
you pull a face, "me telling you good night is a waste of your time now?"
"yes."
"what are you even doing right now? it's 11pm and i know you don't have shit to do."
"don't turn this on me, baby, this is all about you."
"don't call me baby." you mutter.
"then don't call me to say good night."
you roll your eyes, you should have known that even the conversation of 'good night' would naturally turn into an argument between the two of you.
"is yuji good? you sure you don't need me to come over to help take care of a pre-teen?" he mocks.
"i don't" you bite, "i was just being kind and saying goodnight, i know how lonely it must get over there. are you sure you're doing alright?" your tone is filled with sarcasm, attempting to play sukuna at his favourite game.
"i dunno', " he starts, "i might need to come over to your bed so you can keep me company.'
you immediately hang up. you're done and finished. whilst yuji's laughing away in the corner all you can do is roll your eyes at the conversation.
but there's a little part.
a little part of you that you won't ever admit to yourself that misses him.
unbeknownst to you, on the other side there's still a smirk on sukuna's face as he sets the phone down, ruminating on the fact that there's also a part of him that misses you.
the room feels like it’s spinning and your tongue feels like tv static. your focus falls from the grey ceiling to the man kneeling between your thighs on the bed.
in the dim lighting of his bedroom, the marks on his chest look like they’re moving the longer you stare at them.
earlier in the day, when he mentioned he was planning on smoking and wondered if you wanted to be dropped home early or stay for the session, you’d happily chose the second option. why? well, because you enjoyed smoking with sukuna and not because that one of your closest friends had recently got high and had sex, sharing how great the experience felt. well, maybe a little bit of that too.
she enthusiastically shared the experience with you as you listened, slowly sipping away at your coffee as she dished out all the juicy details. that conversation sparked some curiosity in you and soon had you pondering whether to bring it up with sukuna or push it to the back of your mind.
clearly your curiosity outweighed any other feeling, as you hesitantly brought it up with the tall, pink haired man you’d been seeing. he gave you a rather strange look before agreeing in a low tone and now here you are.
“am i being loud?” you ask for the fifth time, cautious of his apartment’s thin walls and he laughs before reassuring you.
“you’re whispering, dumbie.” he mumbles against your neck as you let out a shaky breathe. he’s leaving a trail of wet kisses from just below your ear, down your neck and stopping just above the fabric of your t-shirt. “how are you feeling?”
“like... i’m floating.” you answer, a light chuckle following your words.
you feel his hands move from your hips, underneath your t-shirt, his cold finger tips tracing your waist, the feeling sending shivers down your spine, as they move higher and higher-
until they reach your bra.
“arch your back for me.” his voice low and your body instinctively listens to him, arching without a second thought as his hand moves behind, undoing your bra. then he goes for the edge of your tee, pushing it all the way up to your shoulders, exposing your chest to the cold air of the room.
your arms now rest above your head, your shirt and bra still around them, almost like a restraint.
sukuna hums before taking one of the sensitive buds into his mouth, looking up at you with mischievous eyes as his tongue swirls around it. the warm of his mouth, erupts a shaky breathe from your lips as you carefully watch him.
he truly takes his time, teasing you to your wit’s end. when he’s done with one, his mouth moves onto the other one, his fingers playing with the previous one. he’s a little rough but it feels good.
and it’s only when you moan his name, brows furrowed like you were being denied something, because you were, that his fingers momentarily stop their movement. you’re practically pushing your t-shirt and bra off your arms, careless movements not letting you progress much, as you lean slightly forward to-
“easy now.” he chuckles, his hand still on your bare chest. oh, he has the audacity to laugh at a time like now?
you glare at him, breath uneven, and he only seems more entertained by it. like this was exactly the reaction he’d been waiting for.
but sukuna doesn’t keep you waiting for too long. his tall figure towering over you as he further pushes apart your thighs.
you watch one of his hands move to his sweats, the other planted near your waist on the bed, as he pulls out his cock. precum already decorating the pink tip and sukuna gives it a few strokes before he lines it up with your heat, brushing it from hole to clit as your body trembles.
“so wet for me.”
heat creeps up onto your face and for a moment, you feel like you can’t breathe.
however, it’s only when he pushes his length into that you, that your breathe catches into your throat. your body stills as your gummy walls clench around his dick that you realise that you feel way more sensitive that usually and you’re possibly the wettest you've been. was this all thanks to the blunt you’d smoked earlier?
“breathe, baby.”
you gasp rather loudly, unaware your brain had drifted off that you hadn’t been breathing the whole time.
sukuna leans down, kissing you as he pushed the last couples inches into you, completely filling you up and you whimper against his lips from the stretch.
he pulls back his hips, only to press himself right against you, his tip is almost kissing your cervix and you have to grab a handful of the bedsheets to ground yourself.
it feels so fucking good.
soon, the sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your own breathless noises as sukuna focuses on setting a pace that has your eyes rolling back. it doesn’t take him much effort.
when that familiar, electrifying heat begins to build, you find yourself pulling him closer, if that were even possible. your legs tighten around his sides before wrapping securely around his waist.
when your orgasm finally crashes over you, the overwhelming sensation washes through your body like a tidal wave, drawing a cry of sukuna’s name from your lips. your entire body shudders, lingering tremors following in its wake as wave after wave courses through you. the way your body tenses around him is enough to make him-
sukuna lets out a low grunt as he reaches his climax.
“‘kuna...” you whisper breathlessly against his shoulder, his frame still pressed firmly against yours. the lingering warmth nearly coaxes another wave of pleasure from you, leaving you clinging to him as you struggle to catch your breath. “more... please.”
sukuna totally eclipses you when he catches you trying to reach something on the top shelf. he doesn’t say anything and he’s too big to be as silent as he is, and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at your jolt and slight yelp at his too close proximity. he grabs whatever you’re trying to reach, places it down on the counter in front of you, but he doesn’t move.
you call out his name and his lids lower at the slight tremble of your voice. you twitch just a little, scared to look at him from over your shoulder, scared that his smile may be bloody. he hooks his sharp chin over your shoulder anyway, just to watch how you whale-eye him, like some terrified pup looking a bigger breed in the face.
he presses his entire body against yours until your hips are squished against the counter top. doesn’t say anything as he cups your flank, runs big, hot paws up and down, one cupping your chest, the other fingering your hip. he doesn’t touch you where you tell yourself you—don’t—need it most, and can’t stop yourself from squirming against him. he kisses gently at the corner of your mouth, as gentle as someone with teeth as big as your head can, and pulls away.
you hear only a slight snicker as he stalks away. only then, can you breathe—but barely so. just slightly.
stealing your husband’s chocolate and finding out it was laced with an aphrodisiac!
[content: MDNI, crack smųt, a very unserious piece of work, piv, hair pulling, use of aphrodisiacs, sukuna’s sour but then he’s sweet]
Never in your life have you been so horny it hurt.
“Kuna, please—harder,” you cry out.
“I’m going as hard as I fucking can, you little slut,” he snaps, each thrust matching every harsh word that gets spat through his teeth. “THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T EAT RANDOM. CHOCOLATE. ON. THE. COUNTER.”
“I’m sorry! Fuck!! I didn’t know!”
“There was a note saying DON’T eat it—you just didn’t give a shit because you’re a thief and a glutton. A liar now, too,” he continues to scold you over the chocolate bar he was going to give to Jin so he’d stop groveling over his ex. It’s been 6 fucking months, he’s tired of having to listen to him go on and on about Kaori. Enough is enough—he needs to go out and sleep with someone.
And now Jin’s never going to shut up. Sukuna doesn’t even want to look at you right now—let alone reward your behavior with dick.
“And now you’re cryin’ like it’s my fuckin’ fault.” It’s him who should be crying right now. “It’s simple: Leave my fucking snacks alone. I always get multiples of each so you’d keep your grubby little hands off them. Why can’t you just be normal and go in my wallet?? Fuck—Arch that back some more.” He cracks his palm over your ass. “Yeah, let me see this ass up nice and high.”
“I can’t!” It feels like it’s about to break with all the weight he’s putting on it! Both of his hands pinning you down, burying every last inch of his cock inside of you.
He scoffs, nudging for you to close your thighs, then planting his knees right next to yours so they stay that way. “Do you want to cum?”
“…yes,” you whimper.
“Then fucking arch it.”
You sniffle. “Okay.”
He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.
“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.
It has his attention now.
The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.
“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.
“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“
“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”
“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.
“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”
“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.
“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”
His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”
“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”
“I… I don’t know—“
“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”
“Please.”
“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”
And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.
"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”
Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.
“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”
Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.
He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.
The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.
The kitchen of his apartment is suffocatingly quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of Satoru tossing a single cherry tomato up in the air and catching it. He’s still in his high-collared jujutsu uniform, dirt on his shoulder from a mission he treated like an afternoon stroll. You had spent the last three hours watching the news, your chest tightening with a familiar, toxic dread as reports of a massive curtain over Shinjuku filled the screen. And now that he’s home, he’s doing exactly what he always does: turning your terror into a comedy routine.
“Seriously, you’re stressing over nothing,” he chuckles, his voice airy and light as he catches the tomato one last time and pops it into his mouth. He doesn't take off his blindfold. He never does when he wants to keep a conversation superficial. “It was just a few special grades. Took me maybe five minutes? I even brought back those sweets you like from that shop near the station. You should be kissing me, not giving me the third degree.”
Usually, this is where you stop. You swallow the lump in your throat, roll your eyes, and let him think his untouchable persona has smoothed things over, because arguing with the strongest man alive feels like trying to scream down a hurricane. But tonight, looking at the fresh tear in his sleeve and the careless tilt of his chin, something inside you snaps. The fear twists into a hot, unyielding rage.
You step forward, slamming your hand flat against the kitchen counter. The loud crack echoes through the room, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Shut up, Satoru. Just shut your mouth for once in your life!” Your voice isn’t a whimper; it’s a fierce, trembling roar that hits the walls and bounces back. “Stop hiding behind that stupid, arrogant smile! I am sick of it! I am so tired of sitting in this apartment, staring at the clock, wondering if today is the day your Infinity fails. Wondering if today is the day someone finally figures out a way to break through your barrier and leaves you bleeding out in some alley!”
Satoru’s head tilts slightly, his grin freezing in place, but he still tries to wave a dismissive, gloved hand. “Sweetie, I’m the strongest—”
“I don't care about the strongest!” you scream, stepping directly into his personal space, your finger poking hard against his chest, right over his heart. For a split second, your finger actually connects—he has lowered his Infinity out of pure habit around you, leaving himself completely exposed. “You play the fool, you treat every life-or-death battle like a playground game, and you think it’s funny because you can't be touched. But I can be touched, Satoru! Every time you walk out that door with a smirk, you leave me behind to drown in panic! I am telling you right now: either you stop playing the damn fool and start taking your own life seriously, or I am walking out of this door tonight and never coming back.”
The silence that follows is heavy, suffocating. You are breathing heavily, your heart hammering against your ribs, waiting for the defensive laugh, the sarcastic comeback, the inevitable joke.
Instead, his signature smug grin completely drops, vanishing faster than a vanished curse. His hands freeze at his sides. For three agonizing seconds, he doesn't move a muscle. Then, slowly, his fingers reach up to the edge of his black blindfold. He pulls it down, letting the fabric pool around his neck, revealing his bare, unshielded eyes. The brilliant, glowing blue of his Six Eyes is wide, staring down at you with a profound, unscripted shock. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks completely stripped of his god-complex. He looks raw, vulnerable, and deeply, terribly human.
...“You're going to leave me?” He rasps out the words, his deep voice dropping to an uncharacteristically soft, fractured whisper. The absolute confidence that usually radiates from his posture is entirely gone; his shoulders slump, and he takes a frantic, clumsy step closer to you, his hands hovering tentatively near your waist, completely terrified to touch you but desperately needing to bridge the distance. The King of the Jujutsu world looks like a man who just watched his entire sky fall apart. “No... no, wait. Look at me. Please. I didn't... I didn't think you felt like that. I swear to you, I’m not trying to be reckless. I just... I’m so used to having to be the one who doesn't worry, I forgot how to show you that I'm trying.”
A single, desperate breath escapes him as he finally closes the gap, his massive arms wrapping around your frame, pulling you tightly against his chest. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his fingers clenching into the fabric of your shirt with a strength that tells you he will never let you walk away.
“The blindfold is off, okay? I’m listening. I’ll change, I swear I will,” he mutters against your skin, his voice thick with a sudden, overwhelming emotion. “Just don't leave me. Don't say you're going to walk away. I can handle a world of curses, but I can't handle a single day in this place without you.”
━━━ ✦夏油傑 SUGURU GETO ✦ ━━━━━━━━
The rain is drumming a relentless, heavy rhythm against the traditional shoji screens of his private temple chambers. Suguru is pacing the length of the tatami mats, the long, dark layers of his Buddhist robes sweeping softly behind him. He has been talking for twenty minutes, his voice carrying that smooth, melodic cadence he uses when he’s preaching to his wealthy, non-sorcerer donors—condescending, beautifully structured, and completely detached from reality. He treats your disagreement like a minor, intellectual debate, pacing back and forth with his hands tucked neatly into his wide sleeves.
“You look at the world through a lens of narrow, emotional sentimentality, Beloved,” he says, stopping to fix you with a placid, incredibly patronizing smile. His narrow eyes are soft, dripping with a terrifyingly calm pity. “It’s natural to feel conflicted. But you must understand the grand design. The monkeys are a disease, a parasitic burden that breeds the very curses that kill our kind. To purge them is not cruelty; it is a clinical necessity. It is the only way to protect the truly righteous.”
You sit on the edge of the low wooden table, your hands clenched into tight fists until your knuckles turn white. You have spent months listening to these grand speeches, watching him slowly descend into an unhinged, ideological madness, trying to convince yourself that the gentle, protective boy from Jujutsu High was still in there somewhere. But hearing him use words like clinical necessity to justify mass slaughter makes the blood boil in your veins. You are completely done playing the quiet, supportive partner to a monster.
You stand up, the sudden movement causing the heavy wooden chair to scrape violently against the floorboards.
“Listen to the absolute garbage coming out of your mouth, Suguru!” You shout, your voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere of the temple like a blade.
Suguru stops pacing, his head tilting slightly as his polite smile locks into place, a subtle warning in the way his shoulders stiffen. “There is no need to raise your voice—”
“I will raise it as much as I need to get through to you!” You step right up to him, refusing to let his towering height intimidate you as you glare directly into his dark eyes. “Look at yourself! You talk about a grand design, about a paradise for sorcerers, but you're just a coward hiding behind big words because you can't handle how cruel this world is! You want to kill the entire human population? Billions of innocent people, children, families—for what? For who?! How does murdering billions make you a savior?!”
Suguru’s expression darkens, a dangerous, cold aura beginning to radiate from his form as he steps closer, his voice dropping to a low, commanding rumble. “They are monkeys. They do not feel, they do not understand our sacrifice—”
“Your parents were monkeys, Suguru!” You shout the words directly into his face, the raw truth of it hanging in the damp air like a physical blow. His entire body goes completely rigid, his eyes widening in absolute, visceral shock as the words pierce through his carefully constructed armor. “They raised you, they loved you, and you murdered them in cold blood! How can you stand there in those holy robes and preach to me about righteousness when your hands are stained with the blood of your own mother and father?! You aren't a god, Suguru! You're a broken, pathetic mass murderer who lost his way, and I am sick of pretending that you're doing this for a greater good!”
The silence that settles over the room is deafening. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the heavy thud of the rain outside. For a long, terrifying moment, you wonder if this is the moment he summons a horde of curses to tear you apart for your insolence. His face is completely blank, the calm, placid mask he wore for months violently shattered into a million pieces.
A dark, suffocating vein throbs violently on his forehead, his hands trembling inside his sleeves as his entire reality short-circuits. He looks at you, not with the cold calculation of a cult leader, but with the sudden, agonizing panic of a boy who has just been forced to look into a mirror and see the monster he’s become. The grand, charismatic facade completely drains from his face, leaving him looking pale, hollow, and utterly defeated.
“...Do not speak of them,” he whispers, his voice carrying a raw, breathless tremor that contrasts sharply with his usual composure. He takes a shaky step backward, his hand coming up to press against his temple as if trying to block out the reality of your words. “You... you don't understand the burden. You don't know what it’s like to swallow the filth of this world every single day just to keep them safe... just to keep you safe.”
He looks down at his own palms, his breath hitching as if he can suddenly see the blood of his family covering his skin. When he looks back up at you, the cold, murderous cult leader is entirely gone. In his place is a desperately lonely, broken man, his dark eyes wide and pleading as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your sleeve with a terrifyingly fragile desperation.
“Don't look at me like that,” he begs, his voice cracking completely as he closes his eyes, unable to bear the judgment in your gaze. He collapses forward, resting his forehead heavily against your shoulder, his broad chest shaking as he clings to you like a lifeline in the middle of a storm. “Please... don't call me a monster. If you turn away from me too... then everything I’ve done, every life I’ve taken... it was all for nothing. Just stay here. Even if you hate me, just don't leave me alone in the dark...”
━━━ ✦ 七海建人 KENTO NANAMI ✦ ━━━━━━
Nanami stands by the bedroom dresser, his back perfectly straight, neatly placing his watch, his backup spectacles, and his freshly pressed button-down shirts into a small leather bag. He had delivered the news five minutes ago over dinner: he was leaving his corporate job to officially reinstate his license as a Grade 1 Jujutsu sorcerer. No discussion. No warning. Just a dry, factual announcement.
“The decision is finalized,” he says, his deep voice entirely flat, devoid of any room for negotiation as he folds a tie with mechanical precision. “The current shortage of sorcerers has reached a critical threshold. It would be highly irresponsible of me to remain in an office building while others are sent to die. It is a matter of basic utility and obligation. My train leaves at six o’clock tomorrow morning.”
You stand at the edge of the bedroom, your chest tightening with a sudden, suffocating panic. For months, you had held him through his nightmares, watching him wake up in a cold sweat from the ghosts of his past, believing he had finally escaped that cycle of trauma. And now, he’s just walking right back into the slaughterhouse.
“Kento, look at me,” you try to keep your voice steady, stepping into the room. “We talked about this. You said that world was nothing but regret. You can't just casually decide to go back there without even asking me how I feel about it.”
Nanami doesn't stop folding. He doesn't even tilt his head. “My personal feelings regarding the profession are irrelevant. The situation demands efficiency. I have already signed the contract with Tokyo prefecture. It is no longer open for debate.”
His voice is so incredibly cold. It’s the voice he uses for strangers, for business clients, a thick brick wall meant to shut you out entirely. The sheer indifference of his posture infuriates you, the terror mutating into a desperate, roaring need to break through his armor, to make him feel something, to make him realize what he’s throwing away.
You march forward, grabbing the leather bag from the dresser and slamming it down onto the floor, scattering his perfectly folded clothes across the room.
“Stop acting like a machine, Kento! Look at me!” You yell, your voice sharp and demanding, echoing off the walls.
Nanami finally freezes. He stands completely still for a second before slowly turning around. His expression is a terrifying, unbothered blank mask, his eyes completely shielded behind his dark, spotted glasses. “Losing your temper will not alter the reality of the situation. I am an adult, and I have made an calculated choice based on—”
“Haibara didn't get to make a choice!”
The name tears out of your throat, loud and violent, shattering the quiet apartment.
Nanami’s entire frame instantly locks, his jaw tightening so hard that a sharp line forms along his cheekbone. It’s as if you had physically struck him across the face. For the first time, his rigid professional posture completely breaks, his breath catching sharply in his chest as the ghost of his dead classmate is brutally dragged into the light.
“...What did you say?” he rasps, his deep voice dropping to a low, dangerously quiet rumble that vibrates with a decade of buried, agonizing trauma.
“You heard me!” You scream right back, stepping directly into his personal space, refusing to back down from the sudden, suffocating tension radiating from him. “He was just a kid, Kento! He followed the rules, he did what he was told, and he still ended up under a white sheet! You spent years running away because his death completely broke you, and now you’re just going to march right back into the exact same fire? For what?! To prove a point? Do you want to die too?! Because if you go back there, that’s exactly what’s going to happen, and I am not going to sit here and wait for the phone call telling me you're dead!”
The silence that follows is heavy, agonizing, and entirely devoid of his usual logical rebuttals. Nanami stands perfectly rigid, staring down at your fierce, trembling form. The stoic, unbothered mask he wore like a shield completely shatters into dust. He slowly raises his hand, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he removes his spotted spectacles, setting them on the dresser behind him. When he looks back at you, his eyes are wide, deeply bloodshot, and completely stripped of their usual cold authority.
“...Do you truly believe I am doing this out of some twisted desire for martyrdom?” He rasps out the words, his voice cracking into a raw, breathless whisper you’ve never heard from him before. He takes a slow, heavy step toward you, the clinical distance he always maintains completely collapsing as his shoulders slump under an immense, sudden exhaustion. The man who always has an answer for everything looks completely defenseless, his gaze desperately scanning your face for mercy. “I live with his ghost every single day. I see his face every time I close my eyes. I do not want to die. God... I want to live here, in this quiet life, with you. But when I see those children being sent into the dirt... I feel like an absolute coward for hiding behind a desk.”
He stops just inches away from you, his large, calloused hands coming up tentatively, hovering in the air before he finally lets them drop heavily onto your shoulders. He bows his head, resting his forehead against yours as a long, shaky breath escapes his chest.
“I am terrified,” he confesses into the dark space between you, his voice thick with a profound, hidden sorrow as his fingers grip your shirt desperately. “Every single time I step onto a battlefield, I am terrified I won't make it back to this apartment. But hearing you say his name... seeing the terror in your eyes... I am so sorry. I am so sorry for making you carry my ghosts. Please, just hold onto me. Let me figure out how to be a good man without destroying the only peace I have left.”
━━━ ✦ 日車寛見 HIROMI HIGURUMA ✦ ━━━━━
The dimly lit office is cluttered with towering stacks of legal briefs and empty coffee cups. Hiromi is sitting behind his desk, his tie completely loosened, staring blankly at a legal file. He has been in a dark, self-destructive spiral for days, completely obsessed with the absolute corruption of the judicial system. But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, he’s treating you like the enemy. You had spent the last hour trying to talk to him about his late hours, but instead of listening, he has been using his legendary legal mind to aggressively pick apart every single sentence you say, turning a domestic conversation into a brutal cross-examination.
“Your grievance lacks any logical consistency,” he says, his voice dripping with a sharp, biting cynicism as he leans forward, pinning you with a cold, intimidating glare. “You claim you want to spend time together, yet you choose to interrupt my work hours to bring it up, which inherently reduces my efficiency. You're operating entirely on emotional impulse, contradicting your own stated goals. It's an irrational waste of time.”
You stand across from the desk, your hands clenching into fists. For weeks, you’ve watched him withdraw into this dark, defensive courtroom of his own making, but hearing him use his brilliant intellect to systematically humiliate you and twist your genuine concern into a "logical fallacy" makes something inside you snap. You are completely done letting him treat your relationship like a fraudulent case he needs to defeat.
You step forward, your hand coming down with a loud, ringing slam directly onto the open law book in front of him, forcing it shut.
“Stop talking to me like I'm a witness on your stand, Hiromi! Look up from those files and face me!” You yell, your voice sharp, unyielding, and echoing off the cold office walls.
Hiromi cracks his neck, his dark eyes narrowing as he refuses to back down, his posture stiffening into a defensive arrogance. “I am merely stating facts. If you cannot handle a rational assessment of your behavior, that is an internal issue, not a legal one—”
“This isn't a trial, and I am not your defendant!” You shout right back, stepping around the desk, forcing yourself into his space so he can't look away from you. “You sit in this dark room, throwing out words like 'logic' and 'data' to justify how miserable you're making yourself. But you're not being rational, Hiromi—you're being a coward! You're using the corruption of the world as an excuse to shut me out because you're too terrified to admit that you're overwhelmed! You want to talk about facts? The fact is you are drowning, and you are actively destroying the one person who is trying to pull you out!”
Hiromi opens his mouth to deliver a sharp, defensive objection, his finger raised to point at you, but as he takes in your blazing, completely fearless expression, the words completely die in his throat. His legendary, articulate composure entirely drains from his face, leaving him looking pale, hollow, and completely exposed. Your raw accusation slices through his legal defenses like a sword, stripping away the brilliant, cynical attorney and leaving nothing but the deeply exhausted, guilty man underneath. The realization that he used his professional intellect to attack his own sanctuary hits his conscience with a devastating clarity.
“...I am destroying you?” He whispers the question, his voice dropping all of its sharp, articulate edge, instantly becoming rough, quiet, and incredibly fragile.
He looks down at his hand, which is suddenly trembling in the air before he slowly lets it fall against the dark wood of his desk. The brilliant legal mind completely short-circuits, his chest tightening as the weight of his own emotional isolation finally breaks through. He pushes his chair back, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated as he stands up, looking at you with a profound, naked remorse.
“God... I’m doing it again,” he mutters, a broken, self-deprecating chuckle escaping his lips before his voice cracks completely. He runs a hand through his messy hair, looking completely defeated. “I turn every conversation into a defense mechanism because I don't know how to exist in this world without hurting people. I use the law to keep everyone at arm's length, even you.”
He walks around the desk, his steps slow and heavy, as if the air in the room has suddenly turned to lead. He stops right in front of you, his tall frame slumping completely as he drops his head, hiding his face from your gaze. He reaches out, his large hands carefully wrapping around your wrists, his grip tight but incredibly gentle as he pulls your hands up to rest against his chest, right over his pounding heart.
“I rest my case,” he whispers into the dark space between you, his eyes wide and pleading as he looks up at you for forgiveness. “You're completely right. I’m terrified. I look at this system, and I feel so entirely powerless that I take it out on the only good thing I have left. Please... don't let me push you away. Keep standing up to me. Force me to look at you, because without you here to tell me when I'm losing my mind, I don't think I'll ever find my way back.”
━━━ ✦ 脹相 CHOSO KAMO✦ ━━━━━━━━━━
The air inside the abandoned hideout is stale and heavy. Choso is standing right in front of the door, his arms tightly crossed over his broad chest, his massive frame completely blocking your exit. He has been standing there for the last ten minutes, ever since you picked up your jacket to simply go outside and get fresh air. His dark hair, tied up in his high twin ponytails, is slightly messy, and the dark mark stretching across the bridge of his nose twitches with a stubborn, frantic energy.
“You are staying inside,” he states with a flat, immovable finality, his pitch-black eyes locked into yours. “It does not matter if it is just a walk. The world outside is unstable, and I cannot guarantee your absolute safety if you leave this room. My sole duty is to keep you alive. You do not need to go out.”
For weeks, you have accommodated his suffocating protectiveness. You understood where it came from—he watched his younger brothers die, and the trauma of those losses has turned him completely paranoid. But you are a human being, not a trophy to be kept on a shelf. Being locked away in a dark room out of his sheer paranoia finally breaks your patience. The claustrophobia mutates into a sharp, burning defiance.
You take a firm step forward and push both of your hands hard against his chest, trying to force his heavy frame away from the handle.
“Move out of my way, Choso!” Your voice rings through the quiet room, sharp and refusing to be intimidated.
Choso doesn't budge another millimeter. He looks down at your hands on his chest, his eyebrows knitting into a stern, deeply patronizing frown. “I am doing this for your own good. You are too reckless. If something happens to you, I—”
“You are suffocating me!” you yell, glaring directly into his eyes, refusing to let his intense presence make you back down. “You think you’re protecting me? You’re turning this place into a prison! I understand that you are grieving, Choso, and I know you are terrified of being alone. But instead of loving me as a partner, you are using your own trauma to control me because you're too terrified to trust me! I cannot live like this, staring at these four walls just to make you feel secure!”
Choso’s breath cuts short, his jaw locking tight. He opens his mouth to deliver another fierce, stubborn older-brother command, but you cut him off before he can even breathe.
“If you keep me locked in this room because you refuse to deal with your own fears, I will never look at you the same way again!” you scream, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “You want to protect me? Then trust me! Let me breathe! Because if your only way of loving me is to strip away my freedom and treat me like a captive, then I don't want it. Move away from that door, or we are completely done!”
The silence that follows is thick and agonizing. His imperturbable, authoritative older-brother mask violently shatters into pieces, his face completely draining of color. The word done and the threat of you walking away from his life pierce through his defenses like a cursed blade.
A total, visceral panic takes over his features, and his large hands begin to tremble heavily at his sides. He looks down at you, completely stripped of his stubborn composure, tears of genuine panic suddenly welling up in his eyes.
“...Done?” he rasps out the word in a broken, breathless whisper. He takes a frantic, clumsy step toward you, his shaking hands hovering near your arms—utterly terrified to touch you after what you just said, yet desperately needing to bridge the gap. The fierce death painting looks entirely defenseless, completely terrified by the realization of what he's done. “No... please, don't say that. Don't say you don't want my love. I... I didn't mean to make you a prisoner. I swear to you, I didn't...”
He drops his head heavily against your shoulder, his broad frame shaking with slight tremors as he timidly wraps his large arms around your waist, clinging to you with a fragile desperation.
“I see blood and death every time I close my eyes,” he confesses, his deep voice muffled and thick with swallowed emotion against your neck. “The thought of losing you makes me lose my mind. But I am wrong. I am so sorry. I am moving. You can go... you can walk out that door. Just... please, come back to me.”
━━━ ✦ 伏黒甚爾 TOJI FUSHIGURO ✦ ━━━━━━
Toji is standing near the entryway, casually slipping a hidden weapon into his jacket, his massive frame radiating his usual, lazy indifference. You had found the document hidden in his coat pocket just moments ago. It wasn't a standard underworld dispute or a rival sorcerer contract. It was a hit.
Normally, you say absolutely nothing. You’ve spent months turning a blind eye to his shady dealings, purposefully ignoring the dark, bloody world he operates in just to keep a roof over your head. You knew who he was when you chose to stay. But this time, looking at the paper in your hands, the reality of it is too sickening to ignore; a line has been crossed, and your usual silence completely dissolves into pure horror.
You step directly into his path, blocking his access to the front door, the document tightly gripped in your trembling hands.
“Toji, look at this. Look at what you're doing,” you say, your voice cracking, thick with a sudden, overwhelming dread. “This isn't just a regular contract. This isn't just some corrupt sorcerer or a gang member. It’s a child. She’s an innocent student, Toji. How can you look at a kid and see a paycheck? How can you walk out that door to go end her life?!”
“Put the papers down,” Toji cuts you off instantly, his deep, gravelly voice flat and entirely devoid of any warmth. He doesn't look at you, his eyes fixed on the front door as he adjusts his collar. “It’s none of your business. Go back to bed.”
“But Toji, you don't understand, she's just—” You try to speak, your voice desperate, but he violently cuts you off again, his tone hardening into a cynical, impenetrable wall.
“I said drop it! It’s just a contract,” he snaps, his sharp green eyes flashing with a sudden, tense irritation as he glares down at you. “They're offering a fortune. Once the job is done, the payout is more than enough for us to live comfortably. After this one, I’m done. I'm retiring for good. So stop overthinking it and let me handle my business.”
Hearing him reduce a human life to his final retirement plan makes something inside you break. Your fear completely vanishes, replaced by a raw, desperate determination to shatter his calculated apathy.
You step even closer, physically forcing yourself into his space. With a sharp, aggressive movement, you thrust the document directly under his eyes, holding it so close to his face that he has no choice but to look at the printed ink.
“But it’s not just a contract, Toji! It’s a kid! Look at her!” you scream, your voice trembling with an agonizing mixture of rage and grief as your fingers tightly grip the edges of the paper. “Look at the paper, look at her face! She has a face, Toji! She has a name! Look at it—Riko Amanai! She is a real person, not a piece of paper, not a paycheck! Look at her!”
Toji stops dead in his tracks. His usual bored, dismissive expression completely short-circuits as the photo of the young girl is forced right into his field of vision. His jaw tightens so hard that a sharp line forms along his cheekbone, his massive frame completely locking into a tense, heavy stillness. For a split second, the cold reality of his target’s innocence pierces right through his cynical armor. He looks profoundly troubled, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard, the name Riko Amanai hanging heavily in the suffocating silence of the hallway.
Before you can say another word, his large, rough hand reaches out with a sudden, heavy sweep, forcefully snatching the papers out of your hands.
“I told you to drop it,” he mutters under his breath, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur that carries a heavy, stifled bitterness. He doesn't tear the paper, and he doesn't shout; he just shoves the crumpled document deep into his jacket pocket, deliberately turning his gaze away from you to stare blankly at the wood of the front door. “I don't get paid to memorize their names.”
You stand before him, completely helpless, as hot, heavy tears finally spill over your eyelashes, tracking slowly and silently down your cheeks. Your chest heaves with a quiet, devastating heartbreak, watching him choose his pride and his greed over a child’s life.
Toji catches the sight of your tears glistening in the dim light of the entryway. A profound, visible conflict flashes through his green eyes; his posture slumps slightly, looking entirely suffocated and weighed down by the raw pain he’s causing you. He wants to say something, his hand twitching slightly inside his pocket, but his deeply ingrained resentment toward the world blocks him entirely.
He lets out a harsh, ragged sigh, completely turning his back to you as he reaches for the doorknob.
“Go to sleep,” he says quietly, his voice rough and strangely hollow, refusing to look back at your crying form as he opens the door. “Don't wait up for me.”
He steps out into the cold night air and quietly pulls the door shut behind him—leaving you entirely alone in the dim hallway, the silent tears still falling as his heavy footsteps slowly fade down the dark corridor.
━━━ ✦ 禪院相哉 NAOYA ZEN'IN ✦ ━━━━━━━
The sterile corridors of the Zenin estate are dead silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of Naoya’s wooden sandals. He walks ahead with casual, predatory grace, hands tucked neatly into his expensive haori.
Following three exact paces behind him, your eyes remain lowered. As his wife, you have spent your marriage accepting your place in his shadow, remaining quiet and submissive as tradition demands. You’ve watched him humiliate others before and stayed silent to preserve the harmony of the house. But tonight, a suffocating dread grips your throat. Naoya is heading toward the secondary courtyards, a cruel sneer on his face, fully intending to physically "discipline" Maki and Mai after a failed training assessment. You know the cruelty they endure when no one is looking. For the first time, your fear for the twins overpowers centuries of tradition and your duties as a Zenin wife.
You break formation. Hurrying forward, you shatter the mandatory three-pace gap and step directly in front of him, your hand catching the silk of his sleeve.
“Naoya, please, wait,” you say, your voice trembling but desperate as you block his path.
Naoya stops dead. For a long, terrifying second, he just stares at your hand on his sleeve, his eyes narrowing in pure, aristocratic disgust. He slowly raises his head, golden-brown eyes locking onto yours. “What do you think you’re doing? Have you completely forgotten your place? Remove your hand before I decide to break it.”
“Please, don't go to the courtyard,” you beg, refusing to move. “Maki and Mai worked as hard as they could today. They’re exhausted, they're bleeding. If you go out there now, you’re going to seriously hurt them. I know my duties as your wife, but they are just young girls! Please, leave them alone tonight.”
Naoya lets out a sharp, condescending chuckle, tilting his head. “A wife trying to dictate the discipline of the main house? You really have lost your mind. Those two failures are a stain on the Zenin name. If they cannot handle the training, they will be taught their place by force. And as for you...” His voice drops to a lethal hiss, his hand snapping out to grab your wrist in a crushing grip. “...you stand three paces behind me. You do not speak unless spoken to. And you certainly do not stand in my way.”
“I won't let you hurt them!” you cry out, trying to use your weight to keep him from passing. “They are your family, Naoya! How can you be so heartless?!”
The insult violently strips the amusement from his face. His eyes flash with dangerous rage, his jaw clenching tightly. A man of his status being scolded and blocked by his own wife—the woman who is supposed to be the perfect reflection of his authority—is a humiliation he will not tolerate.
With a brutal twist of his wrist, Naoya aggressively shoves you backward, throwing his full physical strength into the impact.
Your feet lose their grip. You fly backward, crashing hard against the sliding shoji screen before tumbling violently onto the wooden floorboards of the terrace. A sharp, white-hot pain explodes through your shoulder as you hit the ground. You let out a breathless gasp, clutching your injured arm, unable to move.
Naoya stands over you, looking down at his trembling wife with chilling indifference. He steps closer, his wooden sandals clicking right next to your head, and slowly raises his hand, his fingers curling into a tight fist to strike you across the face.
You close your eyes tightly, bracing for the blow—
“Lord Naoya.”
The deep voice of an elderly clan servant suddenly echoes from the end of the hallway. “The clan head demands your immediate presence in the main meeting hall. The elders from the Gojo clan have just arrived.”
Naoya’s hand freezes inches from your face. He lets out a sharp, clicked tongue of immense frustration, his eyes snapping back down to your pale, tear-streaked face.
He slowly lowers his hand, smoothing down his haori with terrifying calmness. He looks down at you one last time, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy.
“Consider yourself lucky that duty calls,” Naoya siffs out, his voice smooth and dripping with an implicit promise of future violence. He steps right over your injured body without a second glance. “Don't bother moving from that floor. We are going to settle this little rebellion of yours the exact moment I get back.”
━━━ ✦ 宿儺 RYOMEN SUKUNA ✦ ━━━━━━━━
The grand hall of the temple is dark, illuminated only by the flickering glow of massive fire pits. The air is thick with the heavy scent of blood. Ryomen Sukuna is lounging carelessly upon his throne of skulls, his massive, four-armed frame radiating a suffocating pressure. At the foot of his steps, two guards violently throw a battered, bleeding prisoner onto the cold stone floor. Your breath hitches. It is your uncle—the man who raised you, captured tonight inside the inner palace walls while trying to break into your quarters to help you escape.
Sukuna leans his chin on his upper hand, his primary red eyes gleaming with a bored, sadistic amusement.
“A rat in my palace,” Sukuna rumbles, his deep, gravelly voice echoing off the high stone ceiling. “He was caught near your chambers, trying to steal away my favorite prize. I think I’ll take my time slicing the meat from his bones before I feed what’s left to the crows. What do you think, my lovely little thing? Shall we watch him beg together?”
You stand a few feet away, your entire body shaking violently. For months, you have accepted his possessive touch and stayed by his side, learning how to handle his monstrous whims just to keep the peace. But seeing your own blood dying on the floor obliterates your compliance. A desperate, reckless terror takes over.
You sprint forward, throwing yourself directly onto your knees between the throne and your uncle, your hands pressing flat against the cold stone as you bow your head in desperation.
“Lord Sukuna, I beg of you, please!” you scream, your voice piercing through the heavy silence of the temple. “Show mercy! He only did it because he loves me, he knows nothing of your strength! Please, Lord, spare his life! Do whatever you wish with me, I will never speak of leaving again, but I implore you, do not kill him!”
Sukuna’s movements instantly freeze. The casual twirling of his dagger stops. His amused expression slowly melts away, replaced by a terrifying, absolute stillness as all four of his red eyes lock directly onto you. The sheer audacity of you standing in his way, begging for a man who tried to tear you away from his side, is a direct insult to his possessive nature.
“You dare to stand in my way for the sake of a thief?” Sukuna commands, his voice dropping to a low, guttural vibration that makes the stones beneath your knees tremble. “You belong to me. Every hair on your head, every breath you take is mine. And you dare use your mouth to beg for a dog who tried to steal you from my bed? Step aside before I cleave you along with him.”
“No, Lord, please!” you wail, tears of pure terror and agony streaming down your face as you look up into his monstrous countenance, completely losing your mind with grief. “Look at him, he is bleeding to death already! Have you no mercy?! He is my family! You have taken my home, you have taken my freedom, must you take his life too?! Please, Lord Sukuna, I am begging you!”
The insult of you demanding mercy and choosing your family over his favor violently strips any lingering affection from his face. His eyes flash with a volatile, god-like rage, his four dark markings sharpening against his skin. He does not lower himself to argue when his authority is questioned. He simply snaps his fingers.
“Uraume,” Sukuna siffs out, his voice smooth, terrifyingly cold, and entirely devoid of emotion. “Remove this annoying creature from my sight.”
Instantly, Uraume steps out from the shadows, their eyes icy and expressionless as they signal the heavy guards. Before you can even reach out to touch your uncle one last time, two massive soldiers violently grab you by your arms, dragging you backward across the stone floor.
“No! Lord Sukuna! Please! Look at me! Lord!” you scream desperately, your fingers clawing at the air, your voice cracking into a raw, agonizing shriek as you are forcefully hauled away toward the heavy doors. “Do not do this! I am begging you, Lord! Spare him!”
Sukuna doesn't even watch you go. He completely turns his back to your screaming form, his four eyes fixing back on the bleeding man at his feet with chilling indifference, his twisted affection entirely replaced by cold wrath. Your desperate wails and tears mean absolutely nothing to the King of Curses when his pride is crossed. As the heavy wooden doors slam shut, cutting off your cries, the faint, sickening sound of his laughter echoes down the corridor, leaving you entirely powerless in the dark.
━━━ ✦ 虎杖悠仁 YUJI ITADORI ✦ ━━━━━━━━
The atmosphere inside the Jujutsu High dorm room is thick with an unbearable, looming dread. Outside, the sky is already turning a sickly, unnatural shade as the curtains begin to drop over Shibuya. Yuji is standing near his desk, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he tightly secures his signature red hoodie. His face is set with an unwavering, intense focus, his wide eyes shining with that familiar, stubborn optimism that usually keeps you grounded.
“Hey, don't make that face! I’m gonna be totally fine, I promise,” Yuji says, a reassuring, bright smile stretching across his lips as he steps toward you. He reaches out, gently rubbing the back of his neck with a cheerful laugh. “The others are already heading out, and Gojo-sensei is gonna be there too! I’ve gotten way stronger, you know? I have to go with them and fight. If I stay here while everyone else is putting their lives on the line... I just wouldn't be me. So just wait here in the dorms, okay? I’ll be back before you know it!”
You stand right in front of the door, your chest tightening until it physically hurts to breathe. He’s talking about marching into a literal warzone like it’s a high school tournament. He has no idea what’s waiting for them down there, and watching him smile in the face of absolute horror makes something inside you completely shatter. The suffocating terror and frustration build up in your throat until you can't contain it anymore.
You step forward, grabbing the fabric of his red hood with both hands and yanking him down to your eye level, your voice tearing out of you in a raw, desperate scream that echoes off the small dorm walls.
“Stop being so damn stupid, Yuji! Just stop it!” you howl, your voice cracking violently as hot tears finally stream down your face. “Look at me! This isn't a normal mission! The city is burning, a curtain is dropping, and you’re casually talking about going into a suicide mission with a smile on your face! I don't care about your promises right now! If you go to Shibuya with the others, you aren't coming back the same... or you aren't coming back at all! Please, just stay here in the room! Just stay with me! Let someone else be the hero for once!”
Yuji freezes, his wide eyes blinking in absolute shock. His sunny, optimistic grin instantly drops, vanishing into a heavy, somber stillness. He looks down at your hands clutching his hood, his chest rising and falling softly as the weight of your raw agony finally registers in his heart. For a long moment, the cheerful teenager disappears, leaving behind a boy who carries the weight of a demon in his soul.
He slowly covers your trembling hands with his own large, warm palms. His expression shifts into something incredibly soft, deeply loving, but heartbreakingly resolute.
“I’m sorry,” Yuji whispers, his voice dropping to a gentle, quiet rumble that makes your heart sink. He doesn't look away from your tear-streaked face. “I know you’re scared. And I’m scared too. But if I stay locked in this room while my friends are bleeding out there... I won't ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again. I have to go. It’s who I am.”
Before you can scream at him again, Yuji leans down. He presses a soft, lingering kiss directly against your trembling lips—a small, bittersweet smack that carries all the unspoken devotion and love he has for you. It’s brief, but it tells you everything he can't put into words.
He gently pulls away, giving you one last, fragile smile as his warm fingers softly untangle your grip from his hood.
“I love you. Wait for me,” he says softly. Turning on his heel, he opens the dorm door and dashes out into the hallway to join the others, disappearing into the corridor without a single look back, leaving you entirely alone in the quiet room with the echo of his name on your lips.
━━━ ✦ 伏黒恵 MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ✦ ━━━━━
The familiar walls of the Jujutsu High dorm room feel incredibly suffocating tonight. Megumi is standing near his desk, his uniform jacket draped carelessly over a chair. His face is a map of fresh bandages, and his knuckles are raw and split from the brutal confrontation with the Special Grade at the Eishu Detention Center. His dark, spiky hair shadows his eyes, and his posture is completely stiff, radiating a cold, robotic neutrality that makes your stomach turn.
“The official report has been filed with the higher-ups,” Megumi says, his voice flat, completely devoid of any pitch or emotion as he stares blankly at the floorboards. “The mission was a failure due to a lack of preparation. It’s a done case. There's nothing more to discuss.”
You stand a few feet away, your chest tightening until it physically hurts to breathe. It has been barely two hours since the news arrived: Yuji Itadori’s heart had been ripped from his chest. Yuji was dead. Your mutual friend, the boy who filled these quiet halls with life, was lying on a cold slab. And here Megumi is, standing in his room, talking about it like it’s a standard piece of academic paperwork. The absolute refusal to show an ounce of grief, the brick wall he’s putting up to shut you out, makes a fierce, uncontrollable rage explode in your chest.
You march forward, breaking through his personal space and grabbing the collar of his shirt, physically forcing him to look at you.
“Is that seriously all you have to say, Megumi?!” you scream, your voice cracking violently as it echoes off the small dorm walls. “'It’s a done case'?! Yuji is dead! He died right out there, and you're standing in your room acting like it’s just a standard mission error! You fought beside him, you watched it happen, and you don't even have the decency to show a shred of emotion?! How can you be so utterly heartless?! Stop acting like a machine and face the reality of what happened!”
Megumi opens his mouth to deliver another sharp, logical rebuttal to defend his composure, but as he takes in your blazing, tear-streaked face, the words completely die in his throat. His stoic, unbothered mask violently shatters, his entire body going completely rigid under your tight grip.
“You think I don't feel anything?!” Megumi suddenly roars back, his voice cracking into a raw, fierce shout you have never heard from him before. His dark eyes fly wide, instantly filling with thick, heavy tears that he can no longer suppress, his jaw trembling violently. “I am the reason he’s dead! I’m the one who told him to save people at that detention center! If I hadn't been too weak to defeat that curse, he would never have had to switch with Sukuna! He died right in front of my face, looking at me, and I couldn't do a single damn thing to save him!”
The admission tears through his throat like a physical wound. The brilliant, logical prodigy completely short-circuits, his chest heaving heavily as the weight of his immense guilt and grief finally breaks through his defenses. He looks down at his trembling, blood-stained hands, his breath hitching as a single, heavy tear spills over his lashes and drops onto the floor.
“I’m terrified,” he confesses in a rough, broken whisper, his stubborn pride entirely collapsing as he sags forward under the weight of his own pain. He drops his forehead heavily against your shoulder, his large hands coming up to clench tightly into the fabric of your sleeves. He clings to you with a desperate, crushing strength, his broad shoulders shaking violently as he finally allows himself to break down and weep. “I lost my sister, I lost my classmate... I can't keep doing this alone. If I lose you too... I won't survive it. Please, just don't let go of me right now. I don't know how to fix this.”
I’m coming back with some soul-crushing angst as an apology gift for my absence. I couldn't see myself doing it any other way, so yes, it’s very long (￣Д￣) Writing the Toji one absolutely broke my heart, and I’m still not over it.... Don't say I didn't warn you!
Likes are really appreciated and reblogs are what keep this blog alive. If you enjoyed this please consider sharing! (っ˘ω˘ς )♡
you're crying after a guy bothers you... and your boyfriend isn't about to let it slide.
bleehhh can't sleep and i made up this scenario w fratkuna sooooooooocontains college au frat!ryomen sukuna x midsize!fem!reader; themes of harrassment (the culprit is naoya bc i saw his ass in the manga😐), ryo is like ur knight but not in the toxic alpha male way ew & he punches a guy, & i'm using the hcs that toji, choso, & geto are all in a frat with him + the gojo twins are present (honorable mentions for twins satoshi "fratjo" gojo and satoru nerdjo🫶) and everyone goes to 'tokyo college of jujutsu tech', and dw it turns into fluff n comfort—btw this is noooottt proofread
"girl, you're really cute."
another nervous giggle, playing with a lock of your hair. jesus christ, you just wanted to get out of that fucking western poetry class.
you'd only taken the class because you needed a humanities elective, and it had looked interesting! unfortunately for you, though, every guy who thought they were a major philosopher and the next unbiological love child of nietzsche had also taken the class! and sadly, you had caught the attention of one of those guys—naoya zenin, one of the dean's relatives.
he was toji's cousin, you knew, and toji was your boyfriend's frat brother... so maybe you were fine? you tried to convince yourself you were as you sped walked out the door, naoya hot on your trail with a sleazy grin and a mouth full of harrassment.
"where ya goin'? class just ended, sweetie."
"i can't stay," you said quickly, heeled boots clicking rapidly against the floor. you'd dress so cute that—polka-dot glasses, a pink off-the-shoulder sweater, black skirt, and knee-high boots that really captured the prime look of a college girl! and it was being wasted because this motherfucker was ogling you. "i have to go back to my dorm."
"why? need an escort?"
"no, i know the way."
"well, someone might hassle you."
"somebody already is hassling me."
"huh?" that made naoya pause—but only momentarily. once he realized what you meant, he fell back into step behind you, seeming even more determined than before. "got some bite on you. i like that. lot of women don't know when they should play it easy or hard to get—you do."
you hated when guys couldn't just take no for an answer the first time. because that meant you had to use the next excuse up your sleeve—
"my boyfriend wouldn't like that you're following me. i really can't stay and talk, and i'd like it if you would kindly leave me alone."
you said it as curtly and politely as you could, then, before the surprised naoya could reboot and say anything else, you bolted through the doors of the humanities hall and out into the spring day.
campus was lively in the afternoon. there was ultimate frisbee and football being played, groups of friends on picnic blankets talking and tanning, girls swirling their boba and iced coffee as they commuted from classes and dorms—and there was ryomen's and a handful of his frat sitting on benches in the quad, lounging after smoking.
well, choso and geto were still slightly buzzed. toji hadn't taken a pass, and it took more than a few puffs to get to ryomen.
"oh my god, i can't feel my tongue," choso muttered, rubbing his eyes. his black mullet was shaggy, messed up, and he smelled like he'd been waterboarded in geto's cologne to cover up the post-smell of weed.
geto, sitting wide and strumming his guitar absently, grinned lazily. "you're too easy, man. second-hand molly in the wind would get you fucked."
"nuh-uh."
"uh-huh."
"shut the fuck up," toji muttered, waving his hand dismissively as he rubbed his face with the other. "i still have a goddamn headache."
"not our fault you hit your head on a fucking table last night," ryomen laughed.
toji groaned, turning his head to look off into the distance. the activity on campus only worsened his pulsing skull. "swear to god, 'm concussed or something. shouldn't have on that chair when i was drunk."
"you should've came." choso tapped ryomen's knee. "where were you?"
"with his giiiirrrllll," geto teased.
"yeah, yeah." ryomen didn't care if everyone in all of fucking tokyo knew he was whipped—he was whipped for you, his sweet little girlfriend. "not my fault i wanna spend one night of the weekend watchin' pretty woman again instead of watching toji crack his head open."
like he was summoned by his name, toji started shaking ryomen's shoulder. "dude."
"one sec—" ryomen was about to say something else to choso, but toji wrenched his arm to the side. "what the fuck! what?"
"look where i'm fuckin' looking." toji pointed across the quad. "isn't that—"
"holy shit," geto said when he saw you briskly walking and crying, like you were trying to escape someone—you had been.
choso frowned when he followed everyone's line of sight. "is that your girlfriend? why is she crying?"
"i... gotta go." ryomen got up from the bench without another word and started across the quad. when he realized how fast you were walking, he thanked god that he was an athlete and started running after you. "hey!"
when you hear a male voice, you automatically moved quicker, expecting it to be naoya again—but then it repeated, and you recognized ryomen.
"baby? hey, slow the hell down!"
fuck. you didn't want him to see you crying. think, think, think—
but it was too late. ryomen had reached you, grabbed you by the shoulder, and turned you around in an instant. "shit, thought i was going to lose you. what's—"
you couldn't held but sob even harder when he began to ask you what was wrong, and ryomen gaped at your puffy, round face, smudged mascara, and the salty streams of tears down your cheeks.
"oh god, angel. what's wrong? c'mere, can i hold you?"
as expected, since he had the biggest soft spot and change of attitude when he was with you, ryomen engulfed you in the comforting embrace of his arms and let you bury your face and ruined makeup against his racing jacket.
"ok, ok," he whispered softly against your hair as he stroked it. "deep breaths. in and out, yeah? gotta calm down and take proper breaths. can i see your purse, please, hon? don'tcha keep tissues in there?"
"i—" you wheezed slightly, trying not to choke on tears or words. "i was gonna wait inside until i looked for 'em..."
"all right, well, i'm here now. let me see."
carefully, he slipped your purse off your shoulder, located the pack of tissues inside, then extracted one so that he could dab your face gently. "there we go. better, hm? keep breathing f'me, just like that, pretty girl."
when you had calmed down enough to not explosively weep again, ryomen caressed the side of your face and asked, "tell me what happened."
you crossed your arms, lips pursed in a pout. "no."
you knew what he would do if you told him that naoya zenin bothered you...
"what? fuck you mean—" he inhaled slowly, then tried again, softer. "angel, how can i help if i don't know what's wrong? or—how are you gonna feel better if you don't talk about what made you cry like that? i mean, you were going pretty fast in those heels, i imagine something happened."
after a pause, he hardened. "did someone fucking do something to you?"
"ryo—"
"nah, don't give me that soft stuff. tell me who and what."
"it wasn't anything serious!" you insisted, holding him tightly. "seriously."
"tell. me."
"promise me you won't be mad!"
"no."
"ryo!"
"was it a guy?" he brushed a few hairs out of your face, grimacing. "i'll beat the shit out of him if it was."
"it was a small incident. small, that's it."
"or was it a girl? 'cuz satoshi's brother satoru knows a girl named shoko in pre-med, she'll fight anyone—unless you don't care if i do it, because i'll hit anyone you ask, babe—"
"stop!" you shook him slightly. "a guy kept following me around and bothering me, i just wanted him to go away—and he did! he just... overwhelmed me. i was scared."
ryomen stared at you when you finished speaking. he blinked a few times and nodded slowly, tongue against the inside of his cheek. "ok. yeah, ok."
you frowned, watching as his face contorted. "what?"
"this happened just now?"
"um... like ten minutes ago."
"where?"
you picked at your nails, growing nervous. "...the humanities building."
he'd turned on his heel without a second thought, and you hurried after him, having known he probably would've gone off the moment you gave him all the details, like a bloodhound with a scent for prey.
"wait—ryo! it's not that big of a deal!"
"not that big of a deal my ass." he was practically snarling.
who you didn't expect to see soon after ryomen was on his war path was the culprit himself. naoya was crossing the pavement, staring at his phone—but when he saw the tattooed, six-foot-four jock headed his general direction, he couldn't help but freeze. you also stopping, surprised and wary, was a dead giveaway on who the guy ryomen was looking for was.
ryomen glanced between naoya and you, then pointed. "him?"
you slowly let go of his arm, knowing there was little you could do to help the situation or stop your boyfriend. "yeah..."
calmly—too fucking calmly—he continued down the sidewalk until he was a few yards from naoya, then he nodded once and said, "hey, man."
naoya, contemplating fight or flight, tried to remain casual and nodded back. "hey..."
"wanna ask you—you bother that girl over there earlier?" he jutted a thumb over his shoulder, at your nervous figure in the distance.
"i didn't bother her. i was just talking to her."
"in what way."
"huh?"
"In what way—because you sound like a really shitty guy to talk to if she walked away crying."
"not my fault she didn't—"
before naoya could finish casting off whatever blame onto you, ryomen winded back a tight fist and clocked him in the nose.
naoya yowled in pain the moment the fist connected with his face, and he recoiled, hands snapping up to cover his soon-to-bleed nose. "what the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"ryomen!" you cried from behind him.
across the quad, it seemed that the others ryomen were with before had witnessed everything.
"ry!" toji waved a relaxed arm, like he knew ryomen had everything handled but still wanted to be nice and extend an offer. "good?"
ryomen cracked his knuckles, then wrung out his pulsing hand. "yeah, he shouted back. "good."
"is she ok?" choso called over, pointing at you.
"i'll take care of her."
"'kay, i guess." geto watched the entire thing with a skeptical look. "see you later."
without exchanging any words, ryomen returned to you and carted you up to his dorm. he was glad that you didn't protest or refuse to go with him—he surely thought you were mad at him, until you whispered the soft "thank you" to him at his door. he simply kissed your head and pushed the door open.
in his dorm, he insisted you clean while he ordered food. lounging in his bed, shirtless now and just in a pair of sweatpants, he scrolled on his phone while resting a hand on you. you'd positioned yourself beside him after cleaning off your tear-streaked makeup and changing into one of his hoodies.
"sushi and boba, or thai?" ryomen asked, rubbing slow circles on your thighs. he loved to grip the plush there, to kiss up from your calf to the softness of your belly—he would later, but right then, he was focused on getting you fed and rested, the two things he thought key in recovering from bad days. "wait. chinese?"
you ran a hand through his hair and leaned over to peck his cheek. "anything."
"you always say that, baby."
"i know."
"ok. sushi and boba."
you smiled. "i trained you right."
taking a moment, ryomen dropped his phone and grabbed your jaw to bring you in for a full, proper kiss that lasted until you were both breathless. and when you pulled away only slightly, hovering closely above him, lips still brushing, he licked his lips and smiled. "you're ok, right? not mad?"
"no," you said, tilting your head slightly. "not mad. maybe a little annoyed that you always jump to violence, but... i really appreciate you wanting to protect me. i know you just want me to be all right in the end."
"damn right i do. i love you, gorgeous."
smiling, you kissed him once more. "i love you too, ryo. now order the food before the place closes."
send me asks <3
buy me a kofi
divider creds to @anitalenia check them out their work is so gorg!!!!
after duo queuing with user "cursedguy07", the both of you develop an online infatuation with each other. One night, they reveal their name as "Ryomen", which coincidentally lines up with the hot guy at your campus, Ryomen Sukuna. As he urges to meet you in real life, you start to contemplate if Sukuna is truly as accepting as he seems online.
part 1/2 (there will only be 2 parts!)
cw : reader is a lonely and insecure / rugby sukuna / sukuna is nice and lowk nonchalant / sexting / romance / silly romcom idk / they meet on outlast trials / will have a pt2
wc : 10.4k
Ever since elementary school, every corner of every room was occupied by your pitiful, tucked inwards slouching body. Often holding your lunch box, chewing with gusto in hopes of leaving the cafeteria early; Your nose buried in a fantasy-romance novel while you’re eating. Your social ability was always as enclosed as your glasses frame. Cramped, compact, very much so limited like your poor vision. Quoted directly from the source, your mother.
It’s not that anyone had ever went out of the way to bully or isolate you from the crowd, but you were simply born frailer and more fragile than the rest. In the most euphemistic way, different.
During sports selection, you were no stranger to trip over your own ankle as if your shoe lace has been tampered with. Struggled to pick up the short put ball from the dirt as if it weight a ton. Most people were accommodating to you, holding your hand and guiding you to do everything step by step like a toddler taking it’s first baby steps. If anything, you could be praised for exceling in following instructions. 9Humiliating, kind of, but you’re grateful.
Unfortunately, puberty was not as merciful to you, neither did the social circles in high school. A pace slower than the rest to picking up social cues, you find yourself out of loop with friend groups, and stuck with a few of the nicer girls who were cool and ‘looser’ with friends. They adopted you as their token ‘outcast’ to give themselves a better social credit. Not that they ever privately hung out with you, ever.
Unbeknownst to you, there is a unspoken “girl code” you require to know to have the honour to join friend groups. Snapchat, a finsta, or oversharing about their latest woes with their puppy love boyfriends. It’s like an ‘open sesame!’ password you gotta know, but you only know your ABCs.
You didn’t have anything much interesting going on, to be frank. Not even your grades were exceptional. Faded and forgotten, you were often regarded as a background character you read from your romance books that you grow discreet with reading as you age.
If your life was a movie, it’d be a rather anticlimatic. On par with a dead person’s heartbeat. No rising action, no climax, just a flat immovable line.
But that was fine. You didn’t sulk over being average, nor did you not try your best to fit more into the norm. You had a few friends. Online friends you made from video games, and all the hobbies you started on the way growing up.
Nobara is your best friend ever since high school. The both of you had applied for the same college, but different courses. The campus was vast enough to included pre-med and various other courses as well.
You went into graphic design. Being somewhat of a borderline loner gets you all in your head all the time, imagining designs and all colourful trinkets that you could possibly craft, and transform it into a career path. Cliche, laugh it up.
But…designing wasn’t the only thing on your mind, of course.
A hormonal teenage girl can never just be thinking about inanimate objects, of course.
24 years of your life, you’ve been fawning over the idea of having a boyfriend.
When you were 13, you wanted a bookworm, nerd boyfriend. Harry Potter was your favourite.
When you turned 16, you wanted a dashing, biker boyfriend that swept you off your feet. “Vroom vroom, get on my bike and skip class with me! Oh look I have a leather jacket too! Won’t you swoon for me baby?”
When you turned 20, you craved someone that could understand you. Someone who could teach you how to do complex equations, someone who could fix your bike after it breaks down. Hold your hand during roller coaster rides.
But as the years passed, you never got the so called “teenage heartbreak”. No boy ever liked you in high school, you thirdwheeled Nobara and her then boyfriend to prom. There wasn’t a promised prophecy of “When you’re 19 you’ll meet a boy that’s gonna break your heart!”. There wasn’t anything, actually. By the time you blew out your birthday candles for being good ol’ 24, you think it’s pretty much over, like there was an expiry date to use certain vouchers.
“Girl we gotta go NOW.”
Thankfully, you still had Nobara.
“My bad! Let’s go let’s go!” Frantically tying your shoelace, you stand up and knock your boots against the door twice to fasten it, before rushing to catch up with Nobara , who’s thumb is jamming down on the button inside the lift.
Slapping your foot down and running up the corridor, you clumsily dart into the elevator, nodding at Nobara to close the lift door. Your feet wobble and—
A big, warm hand with black painted fingernails pushes you upright swiftly by your shoulder before you trip. You whip your head behind you, only to be met with a wall of gray. Craning your neck higher as if to scale a skyscraper, it’s Sukuna.
Ryomen Sukuna, vice captain of the rugby team on campus. He lives on the men’s dorm, which is floor 3 and 4. You don’t know much about him other than his outward appearance.
From anyone’s height, Sukuna looks intimidating as hell. With his oversized gray hoodie hanging over his broad frame, and a pair of wired earphones going with it, the signals he transmitting is completely unfriendly and closed off, despite him just assisting you earlier.
The silver of his dogtag reflects the elevator and blinds you momentarily, he quirks a pierced brow down at you. The runic-like tattoos on his face scare you as much as you find it attractive, so you awkwardly pass a thanking nod at him like a thief caught red-handed and turn back to Nobara, who’s giving you a side eye for your tiny embarrassing moment.
“Oops.” You bare your teeth downwards at her, feeling rather silly yourself.
— —-
Classes go by in a blur.
Carrying a stack of papers in one arm and your tote bag in another, you feel a subtle vibration in the back pocket of your jeans. Snaking and fumbling around to fish your phone out from your pocket, it lights up with a notification from Nobara.
Nobara : my prof is taking 4ver to conclude the class, go ahead without me :(
Nobara : btw idh class tmr morn, so lets go out n have lunch ?
You put your papers down at the nearest bench and start typing away with a smile on your face, pink tongue slightly sticking out.
You : ya okk!
You : ur prof always pulls this…
Nobara : I KNOW. everyday in this class i wanna kms
Nobara : i’ll see u tmr girl
Clumsily gathering all your things with you, you head to the shuttle bus to head back to your dorm.
It’s a bummer that Nobara often has to bail out on you for her classes and emergencies, but at the very least, you get to game tonight! Whenever Nobara is not free, you would head back to your dorm early and get on your favourite online game.
Also talk to your second most favourite person after Nobara— “cursedguy444”
Biting down your lip in giddiness, you pull up your steam chat. The bus shakes a little and your thumb presses down on a silly in game sticker.
cursedguy07 : hello sweetheart
Just talking to him makes your cheek flush, resisting the urge to giggle like a maniac in the corner of the bus.
sleepyGirl_04 : dont call me that im kinda shy…
cursedguy07 : but you are sweet tho
You kick your feet slightly under your seat. Godsake, you’re 24…
sleepyGirl_04 : 😵💫
sleepyGirl_04 : um anyways
sleepyGirl_04 : wanna go 1 round?
Smiling to yourself, you lean on the bus window, biting your lip and humming a little to the adverstisement music on the shuttle bus. More people get on the bus as it stops every station, but you’re stuck in your little bubble with him.
cursedguy07 : 1 round of u?
cursedguy07 : haha
You quickly angle your phone towards yourself so the elderly woman beside you doesn’t see his suggestive text.
sleepyGirl_04 : STOP IM ON THE BUS
cursedguy07 : on your way back from class?
sleepyGirl_04 : i’ve been really busy w class these days. i missed u..
cursedguy07 : yeah dont worry bout it. been caught up with my training too.
cursedguy07 : how bout a round of the game and one round of u👍
sleepyGirl_04 : stop did u rly just thumbs up
cursedguy07 : i did, so?
cursedguy07 : you don’t want to sext?
The old lady besides you cough and you flinch, your phone jumping in your hands like freshly-caught fish before you hastily catch it back with a few keyboard smashes.
sleepyGirl_04 : cdsjv jds vjebv e
cursedguy07 : ?
sleepyGirl_04 : TYPO
sleepyGirl_04 : also Ok fine i do.. i do…im shy ok like you can’t always just say it like tgat…
cursedguy07 : “tgat”
sleepyGirl_04 : STOP
cursedguy07 : we literally always sext, idk why you always act like it’s the first time
sleepyGirl_04 : it’s called being embarassed and prudish
cursedguy07 : you? prudish? got a chuckle out of me
sleepyGirl_04 : die
After a good 20 minutes, you finally arrive back at your dorm. Rushing towards the lobby to head for the lift, you notice Sukuna heading for it too. He gestures silently for you to go first. Gentleman.
Thing about Sukuna—he looks like an asshole, is not an asshole.
Nodding oafishly, you head into the lift with Sukuna. Pressing on buttons 2 and 4, you head up. Cranky elevator, great jazz music . There’s a slightly sweaty smell of musk that you’re 200% sure it comes from the man behind you, but you don’t comment on it. Too hasty to get home.
The lift dings at the second floor and you whisper a small thanks at Sukuna when he holds the door open for you. Hurriedly running to your door, you take off your shoes, socks, unlocking your door with your key jingles echoing down the hallway.
Greeted by the familiar sight of your living room, you place down your bags and hang your coat, tossing your keys into it’s designated key box. A notif from discord pings u.
cursedguy07 : u there? i’m home.
“Ow! Ow!” Peering over at your phone on the table, you impatiently pull at your hair tie to let your tangled hair free, plucking a few unfortunate hair strands that are not spared by your rough handling. Your mother used to snark to you about your frequent hair-falling issues, but you’ve always got invisible earmuffs on when she starts her piece.
You try your best to type on your keyboard with your freehand, the other still pulling at your unkempt hair. Certainly you regret not brushing your hair in the morning before you left the house…
leepyGirl_04 : m home too! gib me a momendt
cursedguy07 : u got home drunk or ?
You grimace, finally letting your hair free and focus on your phone. Snatching it from your table, you dive into your couch, lying comfortably on it.
sleepyGirl_04 : ws typing with 1 hand
cursedguy07 : me too
A furious blush paints over your face, your legs instantly closing tightly together and rubbing against each other with rising friction. It’s been a while since you had some release. Pulling up your shirt to bare your bra to the cool air of the room, you bite down the hem of your shirt, texting him back.
sleepyGirl_04 : r u touching urself right now…?
sleepyGirl_04 : y didn’t you wait for me
cursedguy07 : yea m strokin my dick.
cursedguy07 : is this table manners? i didn’t know i had to wait
cursedguy07 : whatchu wearin?
sleepyGirl_04 : ok fine smartass…
sleepyGirl_04 : m wearing normal tshirt n shorts…
cursedguy07 : baby ur killing me
cursedguy07 : i mean underneath that sweetheart
cursedguy07 : u do this everytime
sleepyGirl_04 : o sorry HELP
sleepyGirl_04 : ok um white sports bra and black cotton panties..
cursedguy07 : always the same shit
sleepyGirl_04 : ik its not sexy…
cursedguy07 : did i say that?
cursedguy07 : my boner sure thinks it’s sexy
It really makes you warm and endeared that he never cares about how awkward you are. Makes you so giddy. Like you have candy in your mouth and it’s sticking to your teeth.
cursedguy07 : if i was there i’d fuck your panties
sleepyGirl_04 : u said this last time too…
sleepyGirl_04 : one trick pony
You snicker.
cursedguy07 : and i meant it both times, so now what?
cursedguy07 : and you got wet both times, guess the trick never got old
Whining and feeling yourself getting hot and bothered, your fingers absentmindedly slip under your shorts, lightly ghosting them over your clothed clit. You jolt when you touch a spot that feels good.
sleepyGirl_04 : wtv
sleepyGirl_04 : im rly sensitive rn
cursedguy07 : yea? pinch your clit
sleepyGirl_04 : i m
cursedguy07 : do it harder
cursedguy07 : u always slack off
sleepyGirl_04 : no i dont
cursedguy07 : yes u do. always complain you can’t cum when i don’t tell u to
cursedguy07 : fuck. wna tap my dick over your clit and watch you squirm
cursedguy07 : shit my dick is leaking so much
Panting with ragged breaths, you circle your clit faster over your underwear, feeling your pussy getting warm and sticky. The wetness was dripping down towards your ass, and you whimper when your fingers glide over it to feel the slimy fluid coat your fingers.
sleepyGirl_04 : stop
sleepyGirl_04 : i wish u were here to rub my clit
sleepyGirl_04 : im so horny i want to cum
cursedguy07 : yea
cursedguy07 : if i was there i’d suck your clit until you cry
cursedguy07 : lick u all over
Reading his text, you loudly moan into the space of your living room, rubbing yourself faster and faster until your hand is a blur in your shorts. Imagining a big silhouette of a man hovering over you, hands groping your tits and eating your pussy like a starved man.
cursedguy07 : ur pussy will overstimulate and squirt when im done w u
cursedguy07 : fuck m gonna bust
cursedguy07 : wanna fill ur pussy up with my cum fuck
“A-Ahnng-” Your body bows and tenses, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw falls open with drool. You come hard and slow, the high lasting so long that you’re shaking and trembling, whining with choked noises.
cursedguy07 : i’d fuck u so good
Your hand still keep rubbing over your soaked panties, stuttering and cramping with its movement from how rough you were being. Hips bucking one last time, you slump back into your couch, sweat glistening on your forehead.
sleepyGirl_04 : i came so hard
cursedguy07 : yeah? ur fingers all sticky huh
sleepyGirl_04 : stop wtv
cursedguy07 : u always get shy afterwards
sleepyGirl_04 : havent you heard of post-nut clarity
cursedguy07 : sure
sleepyGirl_04 : udh post nut clarity?
cursedguy07 : there’s no reason for me to regret cumming hard to the thought of you
Bah, he’s so sly with his words it makes you feel like a stupid girl falling for a con artist sometimes. The post orgasm bliss washes over you, still lying there and smiling at your ceiling.
cursedguy07 : i’ll shower then we play
cursedguy07 : wait for me sweetheart
Yes, it’s peculiar. Talking to a stranger on the internet and sexting each other time to time. Over the past 5 months of getting to know each other, perhaps it was inevitable to have sexual tension when late night gaming turns into sexual conversations.
The both of you have a silent agreement on not revealing yourselves and send pictures, keeping the anonymity and also the thrill of being a mystery intact.
He’s not…really a boyfriend. Is he?
You don’t count him as one either ways.
Are you e-dating? Uh…Probably? Probably not? You grimace at the aspect that Nobara might be right about discord-dating being cringe. Alas, you’re cringe and you’re free.
Quickly cleaning yourself up with a shower as well, you head to your bedroom and get on the game. You and him met on Outlast Trials. It’s silly, but you were really attracted to how direct he was trying to solve the puzzles in the game. He always gave instructions and beat the rounds fast. And god, his voice…
You accept the game invite.
“Hm. Hey.” Over your headphones, he clears his throat, a raspy sleepy voice comes through. You giddily cross your feet.
“Helloo. Hehe.” Speaking sheepishly into your mic, you smile, adjusting your keyboard so it’s positioned the way you like it. “Did you have a good shower?”
“Huh.” He chuckles over the line, “Very like you to ask me how I showered. It was fine. Then I thought of you. Jerked off again.”
“Yeeee pervert…” You comedically make a goofy imitation of his deep baritone voice, hiding how flustered you are. He laughs and clicks his tongue in exasperation over the line.
“Tsk tsk. You like it.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. Bet you came really hard, all shaking and needy.”
“Ok anyways,” You quickly change the topic before your cheeks turn the same shade of red as your sleep shirt. “Let’s queue.”
The both of you hop onto Outlast Trials, getting the orphanage map. The mission objective for this map is easier for you than the other maps, so you crack your knuckles in excitement, waiting for him to connect in as well.
The game starts and you both head for the mission.
“Say, you never told me what sports you play,” you perk up a curious question, clicking on your mouse, “Earlier you said you’ve been busy with training?”
“Hm. Yeah. I play rugby for my college team.”
This should have alerted you, but you don’t realize it, focused on the game.
“Ohh yeah! My college has a rugby team too. I don’t know much about it though.”
“Ha, maybe we’ll go against each other. I’ll win though, sorry in advance.” He smugly states, and you can see in your minds eye how his smirk would look like, despite the lack of imagery.
“Wowwww we got Mr. Smug3000 here.” you jest.
“Shit, come revive me.” Knocked down by the enemy in the game, his character crawls weakly on the ground. “And yeah, can’t blame me. My team ran up to the semifinals last year so. We gonna climb to the top this year.” A ruffle sound over the in-game voice call, probably running his hand through his hair.
“Hmm…” You hum in acknowledgement, busy on the game.
“Ahem,” He clears his throat. “You wanna come to my match this thursday?”
“Oh what, like face to face? Haha.” Nervously laughing, you blink at your screen, hoping he’s just joking.
“Yeah, face to face.”
Everything in you stills like a deer in the headlights. You should play dumb.
“Wait come help me with the nuns-”
“Don’t avoid the question.”
The sudden sternness of his voice makes you sweat internally, unsure how to respond to his demand. A cold chill washes over your chest, your clammy hands freezing up on your mouse. Insecure and awkward as you are, there was no way you were going to meet this guy face to face. This is all gradually getting too real.
“Baby we’ve been talking for months. Unless you’re a guy using a voice changer, I don’t see why we shouldn’t meet in real life.”
“I just,” you hesitate, biting your inner cheek in contemplation, “I just don’t think it’s nescessary.”
“Necessary? Am I just some voice fantasy for you? We don’t even send pictures to each other. Fuck, the most we’ve done is sext.” He sounds frustrated over the line, his character in the game not moving. He’s away from the keyboard.
“I wanna see you for real.” He adds.
“Don’t you wanna meet me?” It almost sounds like a plea when he says it.
“Uhhh…” You swallow hard.
Racking your brain hard for an answer, you panic when it comes out blank. Doesn’t he know stranger danger? Isn’t the whole point of anonymous sexting online, anonymous? To get away from the humiliation of being known publicly? Is he too, not an insecure guy who’s talking to a stranger online to fill his otherwise lonely social life?
For you, being online was your escape. Playing video games was your escape. You didn’t think you were gonna meet some guy in Outlast Trials out of all place and…and fool around with him. The fact that you even met him on such a small game was already an absurd thrill, but you’ve never meant for it to go this far.
You didn’t want to be a catfish either; It was too much hassle to constantly edit pictures back and forth. So you thought, it was going to be this way forever. Playing games together, talk about random topics, and sometimes indulge yourselves in sexual conversations. Faceless, no identity, even though you’re sure he knows a lot of details about you, as much as you know about him.
Literally why does he wants to meet? The pressure is intense. You don’t necessarily think he’s some kind of creepy old man behind the screen, but at the same time, you don’t want your fantasy to be shattered. The illusion of “cursedguy_07” that you’ve made in your mind was already ingrained into you. Meeting up would completely reverse that sort of delusion that you’ve subject yourself to, much to your selfish desires.
The version of “cursedguy07” you have created in your mind, is much more valueable than the real thing for you. Fucked up to say, aware enough to admit.
What if he’s not your type? What if you’re not his type? This would all be over in seconds.
Plus, the both of you have not discussed or labeled your relationship at all. Who are you gonna show up as? His online friend that he occassionally indulges with sexting?! So ridiculous…
“I… I don’t know. What if like…I don’t know. What if we, you know, don’t find each other attractive?” your meek reply earns a brief silence, you’re afraid you’ve said something to offend him.
“I don’t care how you look. Do you care how I look?” The game is long forgotten.
“I-I mean no no, I’m not that judgemental. But, physical chemistry is a thing, you know what I mean?” You try to salvage things, but you don’t even sound confident in your own words. You hate angering people, confrontations is something you try your hardest to avoid.
Even back in high school, whenever people would comment something rather unpleasant about you, you don’t stand up for yourself. The moment will pass. But resentment will build and gradually fester into something ugly if you had started right into an explosive argument right there and then.
“We should try at least.” He urges, “I’ll send you a pic, you send me one back.”
What?!
Growing up, you seldom take selfies. In group photos, a hand peace sign is what you use to cover your face. Your mother used to pry your hands apart just to stop you from playing hide and seek with the camera. Sending a picture to the guy you like? No chance.
“Ok no, that’s just- No. I’m not ready…” The game auto-exits to the lobby, leaving you and your “internet fuck buddy” alone in the call with no game to interrupt you.
“Fine, you don’t have to. But I will. I’m tired of this.” The sound of him leaving the game lobby and ending the in-game voice call beeps.
cursedguy07 : *sent a photo*
The sudden burst of adrenaline that rushes through your blood makes your veins pump erratically. Holy shit. He really just sent a photo of himself. You hesitate before you click on the notification.
“Oh my god.”
The photo that graces your screen is a picture of his bulky abs, the hem of his shirt pulled up by a veiny hand. But you’re not focused on the shirtless thirst trap picture at all. You’re not even aroused. You’re focused on the extremely familiar runic tattoos that run across his chest down to his abdomen.
Fumbling with the apps, you dive into instagram.
Search bar.
“malevolentsteam_u”
Your thumb pulls up, click on the line up listing post.
You swipe.
"Ryomen Sukuna, vice-captain of the Malevolents.”
A loud silence swallows up your room.
cursedguy07 : this is all yours if we meet.
Instantly , you slam your phone down onto your lap, hurling up your legs up your seat and bury your face into your knees, palm covering your overheating face. Heart palpitations instantly start up despite the fact that you didn’t have anything caffeinated today.
Rubbing your eyes in profusely in harsh circles, you try to come down from your panic to realize that you’ve been sexting the guy that lives in the same fucking building, two floors above you. You’ve been sexting that hot guy on the rugby team that’s everyone wishes to violently bang. You’ve been sexting a guy that you see everyday at the fucking elevator!
This is practically the worst possible outcome! You see him everyday, you know him! It’s a relief he has no idea who you are, but you feel as if on the verge of tears imagining him finding out that you’re not who his own delusion has imagined to be. Maybe he’d block you. Hate you.
cursedguy07 : are u still shy?
cursedguy07 : look, i’m a real person. my real name is ryomen.
cursedguy07 : you can search me up on the Malevolents team instagram
cursedguy07 : you’ll see my face
“Oh my god just stop fucking texting me!” All the panic in you is making you sway back and forth, leg bouncing, ending up on your bed with your face smothered in your pillow in an attempt to wash away this memory.
There is absolutely no way in hell you’re meeting Ryomen Sukuna in person. No fucking way. This is genuinely your worst nightmare.
First of all, there is no way a guy like him isn’t expecting a cute kitten e-girl behind the screen. You’re an awkward, mundane girl with not much going on for herself, this is a match made in hell. Second of all, you have not mentally prepared yourself for the prospect that you would meet your internet-sext-buddy in real life!
Lastly, why the fuck is a guy like Sukuna always free to play games and sext with you at night! Doesn’t he have parties?! Training?! What is going on! Why the hell is Ryomen Sukuna sexting with someone on discord!
Fuck, why do you even have him on a pedestal?
For the sake of your remaining sanity, you leave Sukuna on seen and cover yourself up with your fluffy blanket.
“This is probably just a nightmare and I legit just haven’t woken up. Trust it’s gonna be over.”
— —-
cursedguy07 : sweetheart, are u ghostin me?
cursedguy07 : i apologize for sending you an unsolicited pic
Ignoring your phone buzzing in your pocket, you tie your shoelace, loosening your shoulders to head out. The smile on your face is forced and anxious when you greet the next door lady good morning. Like the Smile movie you watched last week.
cursedguy07 : is there any way for me to fix this?
Pressing on the down button for the lift, you grimace down at your phone, taking it out your pocket. What do you even say to Sukuna? You don’t wanna send a pic back, but you don’t want to continue to lead him on more.
Like a sick joke, the lift opens the door and it greets you with none other than Sukuna. Stiffening, your eyes scan over him.
Still with his gray hoodie, he’s carrying a gym duffel bag, and no headphones this time. On his right hand, he’s gripping his phone tightly. His pierce brow quirks, but this time, he looks especially…bothered. Different from his usual nonchalance.
“U gonna just stand there all day or come in the lift? I’m in a rush here.” Sukuna barks, causing you to flinch.
This is the first time he has ever spoken to you, and the dread builds. His voice matches. He really is cursedguy07.
Nodding in fear and awkwardness, you rush into the lift and press for the lobby. You cannot afford to speak and for him to recognize your voice. The air feels tense and suffocating all of the sudden, you’re hyper-aware of Sukuna that’s standing literally right behind you, typing on his phone loudly. Holding your breath as if you’re underwater, you listen.
He’s the type of guy who has his ringer on all the time.
He types, then he deletes. Types, and then deletes.
It feels like you’re stuck in a fucking horror movie when your phone vibrates quietly in your pocket, and you’d rather die than check it with him in the lift. Thank god you silent your ringer before you left.
“Fuck.” Behind you, Sukuna whispers solemnly in the air. You hate that it sounds just as sultry as he sounds on the late night calls you share.
The elevator door opens and you step out of the way to let Sukuna pass you and head out first. His tall, burly frame briefly passes before your eyes, jaw muscle ticking, gripping the grip of his duffel bag like he’s releasing tension. He’s striding down towards the community gym really fast. Like, three of your steps to his one stride.
You pull out your phone to check.
cursedguy07 : look, i don’t know what i did wrong(aside from the picture), but is it really that bad to the extent of you refusing to speak to me?
cursedguy07 : usually you’d tell me you’re busy before you go offline.
cursedguy07 : does my body repulse you so?
Shit!
You scramble to open his chat.
sleepyGirl_04 : woah woah woah nonoononono
sleepyGirl_04 : your body is fine
sleepyGirl_04 : you’re just like rly hot
sleepyGirl_04 : idk how to talk to you anymore
sleepyGirl_04 : u look like ai
cursedguy07 : ?
cursedguy07 : you say the strangest things
cursedguy07 : i cannot keep up with the speed of your brain
cursedguy07 : this is the very first time where a woman has stopped speaking to me bc im “too hot”.
cursedguy07 : does that mean you’re gna stop talking to me ?
A text notif pings on your screen above your chat.
Nobara : girl where the hell r u
Nobara : yk we still got lunch right
There is literally so much on your plate right now you think you’re going to explode.
sleepyGirl_04 : wait i’ll reply u ltr
cursedguy07 : when is later?
You switch to Nobara’s chat.
You : girl m coming i couldnt find my key this morn
Nobara : i’m gna slap u when u get here
You : wait dont slap me i hv tea to tell u
You switch to Sukuna’s chat.
sleepyGirl_04 : um ltr cuz im going to see my friend rn
cursedguy07 : can we address this first?
You switch to Nobara’s chat.
Nobara : girl u piss me off GET HERE NOW
Pocketing your phone, you pratically sprint out the lobby towards the street, casting a lingering glance at the gym entrance.
cursedguy07 : have fun sweetheart. i guess?
— —
“Next time, I’m gonna shove my stethoscope up your ass.”
“Please don’t.” You sweat with a pleading smile, brows furrowed tightly together. Nobara sips on her already finished milkshake, sucking on the straw until it makes a bubbly noise.
“Spill on what you were gonna tell me.” Nobara grumbles, cocking her head to the side expectantly.
Putting your bag down on the floor, you reach for the menu on the table. Stomach has been growling since you walked in. You order your meal—a beef bolognese rigatoni, before you continue.
“Ok so like, remember my internet online friend?”
“The one you kinda have a crush on? What was it? Cursed dude 4 or something?”
“It’s cursedguy07” You correct her, putting a finger up to imitate a nerd face.
“Don’t play semantics with me.” Nobara rolls her eyes, and you cheekily grin.
“Right so…” You paused, drumming your knuckles on the table, eyes focused on the cafe menu.
“He may or may not wants to meet up with me, and also sent me a picture of himself.” You look up at Nobara, who’s jaw is agape.
“So was I right? He’s a creepy old man?” Nobara excitedly points.
“No! God! I hate you!” You hush-scowl at her, making a few of the other patreons at the cafe turn to look at the commotion. It’s the same feeling as your mother being excited to tell you ‘I told you so.’ Aggravating, yes.
“He’s…I think you should see it for yourself.” Meekly, you take out your phone, and shoves the shirtless picture of Sukuna at Nobara’s face. She immediately recoils and squints her eyes.
“Girl I don’t wanna see a thirst…Wait.”
Nobara’s eyes widen, and she snatches your phone to look closer.
“Is that…?” She looks up from your phone, and you stammer a nod.
She looks down at the phone, then up at you again.
“You’ve been e-fucking Ryomen Sukuna?!” Nobara loudly yelps.
“Shh! Keep it down!” Your hand shoots out to cover Nobara’s mouth to muffle her noise, which she resists. The both of you look properly insane.
“Girl, that’s a big fish you got there, my god.” Dramatically covering her mouth with a manicured hand, she exclaims.
“Fish? It’s the entire pond! What am I gonna do”
“Obviously fuck him?” Nobara makes a flippant hand gesture, circling her finger around your face.
“Stop, really?” You bite your lip, “I’ve been thinking about deactivating my account and forget about him.”
“Girl no.” Nobara rolls her eyes again, “not fuck HIM. im saying FUCK HIM.” She does a lewd gesture of her finger thrusting into her hand that’s shaped into a makeshift tunnel. You quickly smack her hand down with lightning reflexes. Have some decorum!
“Stop it! Stop it!” You scold in panic, curling your nose, while Nobara snorts.
Your food arrives and Nobara shrugs and drops the topic, changing it to talk about her horrid nightmare of a clinical exam coming up soon. Despite paying attention to Nobara, the knot in your chest builds. Toeing the line between coming clean to Sukuna about who you are behind the screen and avoiding him forever by unadding him on social media platforms, you realize you have to make a decisive decision soon.
Or you could just. Not do anything about it. Maybe.
Now that you know “cursedguy07” is fucking hot, it literally goes beyond your fantasies now. Will you shatter his fantasy when you meet?
“You know what I think,” Nobara chews with her mouth wiped clean with a tissue, missing a cheeky crumb at the corner as she speaks, “I think you should send a picture back. Doesn’t have to have your face in it. Just be a tease.”
You try your hardest to not blush at the idea of taking suggestive photos for Sukuna’s viewing pleasure, but the very idea him of getting a painful boner and frustrated over an amateurly-taken photo of your body is way too exciting to be shot down. Crumbling a man down to a horny mess would be a massive ego boost to your already insecure self. Stabbing your fork into the last pieces of rigatoni in your bow, you bite the steel utensil and nod in contemplation.
— —-
“You coming?”
“Gimme a sec’.”
Patting down the sweatdrops around his nape, Sukuna finds himself zoning out at the gym floor, staring at it with a blank slate of a mind, as if it was going to grow a head out from the surface. The light reflections from the overhead lighting in the gym bounces on the floor, then onto his face. He blinks hard.
Shuffling to retrieve his phone from his duffel bag placed beside him on the bench, he turns on his phone to see his mundane wallpaper, no notifications from his favourite girl.
Technically not his, but well, not yet. Hoping to be.
See, Sukuna was never one to believe in a fantasical romance scenario that’s along the lines of a children’s book. When he hopped on the game a few months back, that particularly Sunday, he wasn’t expecting to meet a girl that he would end up thinking about almost daily.
Come on. Online dating? Do you know how many scammers are there? The voice changers?
Sukuna deemed it below him to succumb to this. It couldn’t be this easy to be infatuated with a random stranger across the country just from their pretentious personality that they use as a front online. Looking at her profile picture of a goofy cat, he has to chew and swallow on his own words, acid reflux be damned.
Sighing with a heavy chest, he stuffs his shoes and dirty laundry in his bag like a immature child who just got lectured, and heads out to join Toji. Stubborn steps bring him a good distance away from Toji, burning a hole into the back of his head while he overthinks.
Looking to his right, there’s footballers on the field fooling around after practice like naughty kids on christmas. Sukuna wonders if one of them would trip over each other and sprain their ankle. He wasn’t one to constantly wish the worst on others, but hell was it not funny to see someone shit-faced with a pile of mud after a heavy rain. He reckons his foul mood is largely linked to that infuriating girl that’s stop replying him, but he tries to imagine the Buddha. No attachments. No attachments. Sukuna never had good imagination.
Looking to his left are the cheerleaders practicing. A few girls were already looking his way before he turned. Locking eyes with who he assumes to be the “ring leader” of their circle, she blows him an air kiss, which he dodges it by leaning backwards with an unamused expression. A quiet smirk pulls on the corner of his lips when a burst of boisterous laughter trails behind him as he keeps walking without looking back.
Sukuna wasn’t interested in any other girl other than the one trapped in his phone. He knew it was silly to act “tied down” before even meeting her, but it wasn’t like he had his eyes on anyone prior to her appearance in his life.
Rubbing his temple, Sukuna dryly laughs at himself and the ridiculous predicament hes caught himself in. He’s loyal to a girl who refuses to meet him. Putting on a circus show for no audience.
WInding up his arm like a cat getting ready to pounce on it’s target, Sukuna smacks Toji on his back, chuckling when he curses loudly at him. Ducking and dodging at Toji’s vengeful hits, Sukuna sprints to secure a seat at the cafeteria, laughing boyishly like a prebuscent farmer boy in the meadows.
A blur of blue and he crashes into it.
“Fuck I’m sorry,” Immediately Sukuna looks down at the poor student who had to suffer the weight of crashing into a stone wall like him. It’s a girl with a blue shirt. He curls his spine to grab her by her upper arm, yanking her upright, unsure if it’s gentlemanly enough for him to help her up when she yelps from his manhandling. “You alright?”
The girl briefly raises her head to meet his eyes, and then, in the most cartoonish way possible, she shakes her head and dash past him. Sukuna recognizes her from the dorm lift this morning. She’s from the same dorm then. What the fuck was that even about?
“Oh so you’re bullying girls too now?” Toji catches up with him and slaps him back on the shoulder, both men has their eyes tracking the girl clutching her bag escaping the scene. Toji turns to look back at Sukuna and quirks his brow, and Sukuna shrugs him off with a scoff, heading for the queue at the cafeteria.
“Bumped into her and she acted like I was some ghost.” Sukuna picks up 2 grilled mackarels onto his tray, stuffing them to the side on the compact tray.
“Yeah cuz you’re heavy as fuck.” Toji nudges his elbow at Sukuna and earns a mean growl from him, protecting his tray of mackerels and heap of white rice from Toji’s playful teasing. He almost steals Sukuna’s fish and he snarls at him again like a tiger baring its fangs.
“How’s that sleepy girl though?”
“Fuck don’t bring her up.” Veins pop at Sukuna’s temple the moment Toji asks about his little internet fling, handing cash to the cashier with a frown before walking off with his tray. Toji always had this habit of bringing up miserable memories when they shared meals so Sukuna would lose his apetite and hands him his leftovers. Sukuna suspected Toji was doing this because he wanted another set of free lunch, but damn was it working.
“Why? Ya fucked it up?”
“Would you shut up"?”
“So you did then."
Sukuna scrunches his nose and scratches his head aggressively like a dog shaking off wet fur, hands pulling at his salmon-coloured hair before sighing down at his plate in resignation.
“I sent her a picture of me and she got scared.”
Toji bursts into laughter at Sukuna’s quiet confession, rice splattering out from his mouth like a water sprinkler and lands on the table and Sukuna’s plate.
“Fuck you’re so unhygienic!”
“She-! Hah! she got- scared-” Slamming his fists down repeatedly on the table, Toji’s boisterous laughter was gathering too much attention from the other students, ignoring their attempts to shush him. Unfortunately, Toji wasn’t the type to feel shame in a public setting, throwing his head back and forth, chest puffing up with uncontrollable gasps to ease his laughter. Sukuna’s ears were red with anger, or embarassment, he did not know. One thing he knew was he had to get back at Toji.
“And what about your hopeless crush on that marine girl huh? Cherry, was it? ”
Toji instantly stops laughing, kicking Sukuna’s shin under the table and makes him yelp profanities.
“Shut the fuck up! She does marine biology!”
“Yeah whatever. Last time you tried to pretend you know fuck all about some fish and she corrected you with a side eye.”
“Fuck you I hope your e-girl is fucking someone else!”
“You better fuck yourself because you sure aren’t getting that fish girl soon!”
The students near the proximity of Sukuna and Toji’s table starts to decrease, letting the two men engage in their petty dog fight and argue about their romantic woes. It wasn’t until a professor came over to lecture them about volume only did they grumble and scarf their food down their throats. Both men left the cafeteria with a sore throat and a sore ego.
Much to Sukuna’s chagrin, he has a prolonged practice match today because he has to guide the juniors on improving their form and cooperation. One thing Sukuna absolutely hates is to be responsible for others. Sukuna didn’t even have the capacity to take care of a pet, even though he was fond of the furry animals. Bossing people around? Sure. Checking up on people and then try to ameliorate their situation? Not so much.
Only ‘sleepygirl04’ has elevated his level of empathy, but even Sukuna himself is unsure of if he’s able to really back up his claim of taking care of her if they truly met.
One thing he’s absolutely sure is that he does like the girl. He knows that he’d be great at taking care of her in bed. But being a boyfriend? Sukuna hardly knows the outline of being one. Other than the classic dates, flowers and sweet nothings, he finds himself drawing up a blank when it comes to uncomfortable conversations. Eventually, he’ll have to open up about his personal vendettas with his family and his past to her, but that’s something he’ll have to figure it out when he gets there. It’s the same as climbing a mountain without ever seeing the peak. You just have to figure it out when you get there.
Inspecting the little string of cotton thread that broke out from the fine lining of his jersey, he clicks his tongue, thumb brushing over the slightly grey and faded letters of his name “Ryo”. Fuck, should have handwashed it. Let it tumble in the laundry machine too often. Kissing his teeth, Sukuna quickly grabs a dry towel and runs the cloth over his wet hair, water dripping down his torso as he does. With a cat-like stretch and a groan, he loops his jersey over his head and heads out his dorm to the field.
Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, the elevator door opens to that girl again. That girl he bumped into this afternoon. She squeaks animatedly like a scared country mouse and side steps to let him in. It’s grating on his nerves now. Why the fuck is she so scared of him for? The way her eyes are looking away at the side of the elevator is as if he would eat her alive for even making eye contact. Sukuna wasn’t used to girls being outright spooked by him. Charmed, yes. Attracted to him, yes. Acting as if they’d die if they met his eyes? No.
“Ahem,” Loosening his shoulders, Sukuna spares the girl a glance, before caving in with a furrow of his brow. “I’m sorry about bumping into you this afternoon. It was my fault, I wasn’t looking.”
The girl doesn’t dare to look up at him, which irks him even more. Can’t even accept an apology?
“Uhm, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Meek, with a terribly pitched voice, the girl responds, catching his reflection in the metallic.
“You got a sore throat?“ He speaks like it pained him to throw out the casual jest.
“Uh no…”
“You speak a little funny.”
The girl immediately spins around, brows knitted and a frown on her face. It reminded Sukuna of his little brother Itadori when Sukuna would finish the yoghurt that the little boy had saved up before going to school. He’d get mad and pouty, use those stubby fingers of his to poke at him and whine. That kid was hella strong with his fists though, he never pulls his punches.
“I don’t have a sore throat, it’s kind of rude for you to say that. I’m fine as well, I’m not going to die from getting knocked over.”
“Relax. My fault.” Sukuna raises his hands in placating surrender gesture, yet a smirk graces his face. It’s really reminding him of his brother now. The girl is shorter than him by a lot as well.
“You…let’s just move on.” She sighs.
Wait a minute.
“Let’s just move on to the next puzzle then! I’m a little lost…”
“Sure. Give me the key.”
Move on?
“You…let’s just move on.”
Standing there dumbfounded with a familiar voice haunting his head, Sukuna watches the girl step out the elevator like he seen a ghost. His heart rate spikes up, and his lips part with a kind of focus that he can’t describe.
Am I on acid or does she sounds like…?
Before the elevator allows Sukuna to drink in her appearance fully, his eyes hyperfixate on a small birthmark on the front of her elbow.
---
Thursday rolls around, so do you when you roll out of bed and land on the hard wooden floor with a thud. Sitting up with unkempt hair, your fingers scramble and search for your phone on the floor, feeling up a long charging wire and finally to your phone.
10:45 am.
cursedguy07 : hey
cursedguy07 : missed you.
cursedguy07 : my match starts at 12pm. i know you won’t be there but i’m thinking of you.
Smiling while biting down at your bottom lip, you sleepily bring your fingers to the keyboard. Though you’re sure that he doesn’t know who you are still, it makes you giddy that he’s still really sweet to you despite your on and off texting. Obviously, you were going to watch his match with Nobara.
sleepyGirl_04 : good luck! i know u’ll crush it doe
cursedguy07 : any chance i could see you afterwards? face to face?
Groaning in frustration, you turn your head and bury it into your mattress like a little kid refusing to wake up for school. Your thighs feel awfully cold from the floor in the air conditioned room of yours. It was running all night.
You can’t see him. He’s out of your league. You close your eyes as if a criminal on the guillotine.
It’s so cold. My nips are cold.
“You know what I think”
“I think you should send a picture back. Doesn’t have to have your face in it. Just be a tease.”
Your eyes snap wide open in eureka, staring right at your chest.
Quickly climbing back up your bed, you shuffle around, adjusting your camisole and pull down the spaghetti straps to let it fall loosely around your upper arm. Pushing and kneading your bread as if a sourdough, you succeed it in getting it to look “plump”. Without a push up bra, somehow.
Raising your phone high up in the air, you pretend as if you’re in a cheap homemade porn video. Except it looks terrible. The lighting looks muddy, so you move. Then your lips looks too chapped, then you move again. Then your double chin is getting highlighted by the sunlight from your window. Allright I’m never gonna get it down. Even teasing pictures are an art form.
After flopping around your bed like a living fish on land, you finally get a good position with a decent angle. It’s awkward to pose and you’re sure it looks ridiculous from a third person’s pov, paired with the lower back pain that’s about to happen from cramping, but you snap the picture regardless.
You send it to Nobara for two factor authentication.
Nobara : u are posing like the little mermaid except she’s trying to escape quick sand.
Nobara : why are your legs so straight. cross them so your thighs are more seductive.
You : OK well I was just trying to focus on the boobs…
Nobara : your legs are LAID OUT like a vampire in a coffin and you want me to focus on your rack??
“Why is this so fucking hard?!” Rubbing your palm over your face, your nose twists with the strength of your frustration. This was even harder than taking stiff graduation photos!
Nobara : listen to me, put one hand on your chin and pull your knees up, push them slightly to the side. do that awkward smile you always do
You : omg ur so rude im not always awkward smiling on purpose
Nobara : ya that’s the problem you’re naturally awkward. now get to it
Reluctantly heeding Nobara’s advice, your body moves as if a mannequin getting posed at the H&M store. Finally getting the picture, you send it to her again.
Nobara : girl yessss. this the one.
Nobara : send it to him he’s gonna get a boner trust me
You : you think? I feel so awkward
Nobara : just send it
Holding your breath and bracing yourself as if you were preparing for a bungee jump, you click send to cursedguy07, who you now know as Sukuna. Who is living just 2 floors above you. Not crazy at all, haha.
sleepyGirl_04 : *sends an attachment*
cursedguy07 : jesus fuck
cursedguy07 : is this your first time sending a pic like this
Growing nervous, you scan and scrutinize over your own picture again and again, noticing the little flaws here and there now that you sent it. Even he realizes it’s amateur. Your face grows hot, wishing you could bury yourself 6 ft under for your sudden burst of false confidence for even entertaining the idea of a suggestive picture.
sleepyGirl_04 : ya…
cursedguy07 : did you send this thinking it would motivate me for my match?
Fuck…
sleepyGirl_04 : um ya…
sleepyGirl_04 : ok m embarrassed now idk what i was thinking sorry
cursedguy07 : yeah u better be sorry
cursedguy07 : im at the field trying to cover the insane boner in my shorts but i can’t stop looking at your thighs in that pic
cursedguy07 : you have such fleshy thighs
Fuck.
sleepyGirl_04 : so u like it..? fleshy is weird word to use, it’s like for meat, like pork ribs…
cursedguy07 : tasty, isn’t it?
sleepyGirl_04 : isn't it crude to use meat to describe a woman's body
cursedguy07 : way less crude than what’s going through my head right now
cursedguy07 : believe me you do not want to know what im thinking about doing to you
cursedguy07 : wish i could see you in person
Fuck Fuck Fuck!
cursedguy07 : and don’t send me anymore before it costs me my game
Muffling your embarassed screams into your pillow while kicking your feet, you check your phone again. You’re glad he likes it, because if it doesn’t you might have to unsend it and block him forever to save yourself. You peek at the time.
11:27 pm.
Shit, you took so long to take that tease photo!
Nobara : WHERE R U
Nobara : CAN U STOP BEING LATE
Nobara : i saved u a seat at the match hurry tf up omg i rly cant stand u
Throwing yourself at your drawer, you scavenge for an ironed shirt and shorts. Laundry day is usually Wednesdays and Saturday for you, so you only have crinkled shirts and some repeatedly used and worn clothes through out the week. Finally finding a long blue tee and gym shorts, you fit yourself in them, slip on your shoes, and rush out your dorm towards the field. Seeing Sukuna in action now is feels way more different, feels more…real to you? Like he’s not cursedguy07 anymore, but Sukuna. Sukuna. Like a celebrity you can casually chat about which breed of fish you like.
“Over here!”
The sound of Nobara’s raspy voice has you stopped squared in the shoulders like a deer in the headlights, turning your head 180 degrees left, and then right, attempting to make out her brown hair in a sea of other brown hairs. Jesus.
The field is completely packed with people, people sitting along the grass right outside the line of the rugby field, holding onto their water bottles and chatting away with their friends. Girls lumped together and laying on each other’s shoulders to admire the muscular players practicing, guys standing on the side with their arms crossed while they wait to backseat the game the entire time. Guys just love to point their fingers at a sport they’re not involved in.
A particular hand in the air catches your eye, then you wave back eagerly at Nobara. Stepping across wet grass, puddles and a group of giggling girls, you finally reach Nobara. Patting down your butt and your shorts, you plop yourself down comfortably next to Nobara, nuzzling into her shoulder in a fit of repeated apologies. Nobara gives a ‘hmph’ before petting down your hair and laying her head ontop of yours.
“It’s so sunny, did you bring sunscreen?”
“I did, turn to face me.”
Allowing Nobara to grab your jaw, you close your eyes like a kitten being pampered, feeling her hands swipe sunscreen all over your face down to your neck. Back when you were little, your mother would do the same, except she’d add on excessive white noise about your grades and your gaming habits.
“I wonder if he applied sunscreen too.” You mumble, fluttering your eyes open, Nobara nods at your phone while screwing back the cap of the sunscreen tube. Nodding as if you got approval, you lay back on her shoulder and take your phone out.
sleepyGirl_04: it’s really hot today, make sure to apply some sunscreen :p
cursedguy07 : I did
sleepyGirl_04: and be careful to not slip on the field, it rained earlier today
cursedguy07 : ?
sleepyGirl_04: yes? im just showing u concern dont be mean
cursedguy07 : it did rained today.
sleepyGirl_04: yes???
“Girl, why did you tell him it rained?” Nobara’s voice catches your attention again, moving her face closer to squint at your phone screen.
“What do you mean?” Your confused reply earns an incredulous stare from Nobara.
“Doesn’t that prove to him you’re in his city?”
Oh fuck.
cursedguy07 : how did you know the field im at is wet?
cursedguy07 : i never mentioned where im having my competition at.
“I just fucked it up!” You shriek, shutting off your phone and giving Nobara a helpless stare.
“Well, cat’s out the bag.”
“Nobara!”
“Not my problem.”
cursedguy07 : you’re from my college.
“Oh my god no no no! Help me!” You shake Nobara’s arm like a ragdoll until she yanks her arm away from you, irritated.
“Just lie about it! Quickly!”
You nod and try to get your fingers to work in tandem with your mind.
sleepyGirl_04: no i just saw the weather report
cursedguy07 : sweetheart, you said kyoto rained. when it rains, do you think the entire city rains at the exact time?
sleepyGirl_04: uh yeah?
cursedguy07 : news flash little girl, but only certain parts of the city rains. unless you’re in the same area as me, you wouldn’t know this, and it won’t show up on your weather report.
Anxiously glancing up, you gawk at Sukuna who’s far away at the dug out, typing away at his phone, fingers flying over the keyboard.
cursedguy07 : tell me the truth, are you on the same field watching my game?
sleepyGirl_04: no im not im literally at home
cursedguy07 : send me the ‘wet field’ you’re at right now.
“Oh my god girl give me the fucking phone!” Nobara snarls at you and snatches your phone from your hands, exasperated by your poor attempts at lying. You were never a good liar anyways.
sleepyGirl_04: im watching the game on my tv!!
cursedguy07 : what channel is the rugby game on?
Nobara immediately turns to you for an answer, and you both shake your head at each other.
“You just made it worse!” You snatch your phone back frantically, switching tabs to beg google for an answer.
“Your dumbass wasn’t going to get out of that anyways,” Nobara rolls her eyes and gestures at the field, “Look, he’s putting his phone away, game’s about to start.”
Gulping, you turn off your phone as the whistle blows. The players line up together in a neat line, shaking each other’s hands as the referee announces the rules. Your eyes are glued onto Sukuna’s frame, sweat glistening his tan skin and dripping across his pink brows. Ah, he dyes his brows pink too.
Sukuna jogs to his bench to retrieve his mouthguard, and you stare, enamoured, as he opens his jaw wide to show off his pearly teeth to an unsuspecting audience, pushing his mouthguard in and clicking it into place. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he chews down twice to adjust to the feeling, then he smiles once to feel it out.
“Is it just me or is that kinda hot?” You whisper to Nobara.
“It’s just you.” She sighs.
The game starts, and it looks entirely like a bull fight. Men with toned thighs clashing into each other, baring their teeth when they grunt, sprinting with the rugby ball with their life on the line. Nearing the goal line, Sukuna shouts a loud “I’m open!” with a wave of his hand, and the ball comes out of no where from the sea of tumbling men, landing straight into his embrace. The men rush at him, he jumps across them like hurdles, then turn his body once to juke out a defender, straining his calves to dive for the line.
Sukuna brings the team to a leading point, and the crowd goes bonkers. His teammates help him up, blood trickling down his nose to his busted lip, glazing his mouthguard with blood. You swallow.
“You’re literally obsessed with him girl.”
--
The game ends swiftly, with The Malevolents winning by a big margin. Sukuna was obviously the MVP, his teammates taking turns to slap him on the back to congratulate him. Brotherhood indeed.
Going off to the side, Sukuna rushes to check his phone again. His heart doing a flip remembering the picture she sent and the accidental freudian slip she gave on text.
She’s from his college. It feels surreal, but he’s confirmed it at this point. Now he has to figure out who exactly it is.
Giving brief excuses to the coach, Sukuna grabs his duffel bag and decides to head straight for his dorm. He’ll shower and figure it out.
“Hah.” Glancing down at his phone as he makes a beeline towards his dorm, Sukuna stares at the picture of her that she sent, a fond smile on his face. Certainly, it’s a very sloppy photo. The lighting is too dark, and the pose she’s posing is stiff and unnatural, and yet. He finds it sweet that this is perhaps the most seductive she could get herself to be. Her cleavage on display with faint outlines of her nipples through her camisole, to her crossing her thighs together to give off a ‘needy’ impression. She has a birthmark on the front of her elbow too, cute. It’s a very sloppy photo. But the best photo he’s gotten in his life, proven by his prominent bulge that he has to hide with his duffel bag.
Huh?
Sukuna stops, and back up 3 times to retrace his steps.
He does a double take.
A birthmark on the elbow?
Curling his spine and leaning his head down to check his phone, he zooms into her arm in the photo.
Something akin to adrenaline washes over him when he snaps his head up to stare at his dorm building that’s 4 steps away from him.
It’s you.
Sukuna takes 3 steps up the stairs towards the 2nd floor, lift be damned. The urgency he has is unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He knows which dorm you’re at, he knows the exact door number. That clumsy, awkward girl at dorm 404. That blue girl he bumped into at campus. The one he’s been sexting these past few months. It’s you. It’s you. All this time, you’ve been right under his fucking nose, 2 floors under his fucking dorm!
cursedguy07 : u in your dorm?
sleepyGirl_04: ya i am
cursedguy07 : open the door.
sleepyGirl_04: what? like my dorm door??
cursedguy07 : im right outside your door.
a/n : THIS WAS SUCH A HASSLE TO FORMAT I HATE TUMBLRR part 1 end// pt 2 soon i promise
to the one who dares deny me her presence, you left without permission. return at once.
your lord, ryomen sukuna.
the third letter, arrives in a much longer scroll.
how troublesome. you forget yourself, woman. there is no place you may go that is beyond my reach. had i wished it, you would have been returned to my side before nightfall. consider it generosity that you were not. do not ignore my scrolls.
your lord, ryomen.
the fourth letter,
since i cannot imagine there is much in those lands to interest you, i can only suppose your continued absence is due to your ever prolonging distaste with me.
i urge you: come be angry at a nearer distance.
your husband, R.S.
the fifth letter,
you are in no mood for games. very well. i am in no mood for them, either.
let me say it outright: there are moments brief, and increasingly frequent in which i reach for you without thought. this displeases me, i am not accustomed to such absence from you, nor restraint.
you have forced both upon me.
come home and shout at me. come home and fight with me. come home and break my heart, if you must. it has become yours only to break. just come home.
your husband, sukuna.
the next letter,
not even responding to my missives is ridiculous and beneath you and i hate it.
atleast inform me of your health.
ryomen sukuna
and then finally, your reply,
stop writing to me, at once. my wedded lord you have trespassed much and caused me such nuisance, it is quite enough now.
i am well. but do not pretend as if you may not already know that. you think i am not aware of my new lady’s maid keeping an eye on me, certainly appointed to report back to you?
consider it my generosity that i let her stay, and consider it my ignorance towards your repetitive letters for my lack of response.
if i receive any such scroll from you, i shall burn it.
signed, yours.
and his response,
surely if your lovely eyes may not grace my lowly epistles, then i shall speak freely.
to my most willful wife, you command me to cease, and yet you write at length. i had not realized i occupied you so thoroughly. as for your lady’s maid, you give me too much credit. if she watches you, it is because you are worth watching. i would hardly entrust such a task to another. although i cannot speak for what ways uraume employs to update me on your health..
i have been told it is unbecoming to repeat oneself so, i will not ask you to return again. you may remain where you are, in whatever peace you have convinced yourself you prefer. i will not contest it.
and yet, i find myself wondering: why you will not come back of your own accord. have you no consideration, for your neglected husband?
the hand you force, your husband.
to my most theatric husband, you mistake response for preoccupation. do not flatter yourself, i write only to correct what you insist on misunderstanding.
as for being “worth watching,” you dress surveillance in pretty language, you always had a knack for that. for such sweet talk will not work on me, do not expect gratitude for it.
if your husband is neglected, perhaps he should consider why.
signed, your wife, unfortunately.
to my most contrary wife, “unfortunately,” and yet you take such care to sign it. i wonder if your hand hesitated at all.
as for your refusal of gratitude, keep it, i did not ask for it. you suggest your husband reflect on his neglect. i have. thoroughly. i apologize for everything end this torment for me wife, for i can bear it no longer.
you insist my words hold no effect on you now. how curious, has distance made you bold, or merely forgetful? i recall a time not long past, when your resolve was far less reliable. how easily it would slip from you, how quickly your protests would soften when i would indulge you, a little more closely. 𓀐𓂸
have you truly forgotten? or are you simply daring me to remind you?
very well. do not worry, i will remind you, not behind these papers this time. consider that a courtesy, one last chance to brace yourself or do you prefer to test me?
i would find it entertaining, either way.
your lord and husband, R.S.
my lord, you are most unfair!
do not be naughty, ryomen. i warn you, what you speak of this “reminder” it is highly improper. and what if someone else were to see it? consider your poor wife’s reputation!
your teasing is relentless, and i am most vexed. you threaten of your arrival, yet remain absent, perhaps one day, your threats will find action..though i dare not hope it too loudly.
if you intend to test my resolve, i suggest you waste no more time. come, then, and take me with you, lest i change my mind.
apology accepted, your wife.
a shorter note, in refined handwriting,
lord ryomen sukuna will be arriving soon.
his subject, uraume.
firefly; this is probably my first fic where i have worked SO hard on formatting it, i hope you guys enjoy ❀ུ͏
inspo: by cardan’s letters to jude from the folk of the air series.
