Unexpected behaviour — fratboy!sukuna x shy!reader
summary: a long week passed and your new “friend” felt ignored
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The late afternoon sun cast long, amber shadows across the cracked concrete pavement, stretching the silhouettes of the campus buildings into distorted shapes as you walked home from school. Your backpack felt unusually heavy today, the straps digging mercilessly into your shoulders—a physical manifestation of the exhaustion clinging to you after a grueling, sleepless week of midterms. Clutching the nylon straps tightly against your chest, you kept your head down, focusing entirely on the rhythmic movement of your sneakers. You tried your best to tune out the ambient noise of the bustling college town: the distant rumble of traffic, the chatter of students celebrating the end of exams, and the clinking of glasses from the nearby campus strip.
You weren't exactly looking to run into anyone, let alone him.
This would be the fourth time. You had been keeping precise track in your head, mostly because encounters with Ryomen Sukuna were not the kind of events one easily forgot or brushed off. He was the campus's most notorious fraternity president, a legendary senior whose reputation for absolute hedonism, unpredictable temper, and borderline psychopathic arrogance preceded him everywhere he went. He was entirely selfish, wildly sadistic in his humor, and lived exclusively for his own amusement, treating the university like his personal playground and the student body as his willing audience.
A sudden, massive shadow fell over your path, blocking out the fading warmth of the sunlight and plunging you into a chill.
"Hey. Moving kind of slow today, aren't we?"
You froze mid-step, your heart doing a sudden, violent flip in your chest before hammering rapidly against your ribs. The voice was unmistakable—deep, gravelly, and dripping with an effortless, condescending authority. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you tilted your head up.
It was Sukuna. He was leaning casually against a weathered brick wall that bordered the very edge of the campus quad, one foot propped up against the masonry. He wore a backwards black baseball cap and an oversized, loose-fitting crimson varsity jacket with leather sleeves that did absolutely nothing to hide the broad, intimidating frame beneath it. Because he was currently in control of his unfortunate freshman vessel, a well-meaning athlete named Ryomen Sukuna he possessed the same spiked pink hair, though it was pushed up aggressively today, completely free of the usual fringe.
But the most striking—and terrifying—difference lay in the stark markings. Jet-black lines encircled his wrists, ankles, and upper arms in thick, flawless double bands. A sharp, jagged horizontal line crossed the bridge of his nose, and a complex, crown-like symbol sat squarely in the middle of his forehead, stark against Yuji's fair skin. As you stared, the second pair of eyes—usually just dark, dormant slits beneath his primary ones—snapped wide open. They gleamed with a malicious, highly amused crimson light as they locked onto your trembling form.
"S-Sukuna," you stammered, the syllables catching in your throat as you instantly took a frantic step backward. Your social anxiety was already a heavy burden to manage on a normal day, but dealing with a literal force of nature clad in a frat jacket was entirely overwhelming.
"The one and only," he smirked, his lips curling back to reveal a flash of sharp teeth as he stepped away from the wall.
The sheer, oppressive presence he radiated was suffocating, altering the very air pressure around you. He didn't just walk; he took up space with an absolute, unshakeable certainty that the entire world belonged to him by right. He closed the distance between you in two long, predatory strides, immediately cutting off your direct path forward.
"You know, for someone who claims to want absolutely nothing to do with me, you keep walking right into my territory," he noted, tilting his head back slightly to look down his nose at you.
"I'm just... I'm just walking home from the library," you murmured, your eyes darting frantically to the left and right, desperately calculating an escape route through the narrow alleyways. "The sidewalk is public property. I have a right to be here."
"Everything around here is my property if I say it is," he retorted smoothly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, silken register. He towered over you, his egocentric nature practically dripping from his posture as he crossed his massive arms over his chest. He looked down at your small frame, his primary and secondary eyes narrowing in tandem as he evaluated your pale face and nervous demeanor. He found your profound shyness utterly hilarious—and highly entertaining. "Do you honestly think a little piece of city zoning law means anything to me, brat?"
"I really should go," you whispered, your voice trembling as you attempted to take a wide step around his right side.
In a flash of movement almost too quick for the human eye to track, his hand shot out, his thick fingers gripping the canvas strap of your backpack with vice-like strength. He didn't pull you backward, but the sudden, rigid restriction made you halt entirely, nearly losing your balance.
"You've dodged me three times this week now," Sukuna said, his tone shifting from playful to slightly sharper, his gaze boring into yours. "I don't like being ignored. Especially not by someone who looks like they're about to faint just from looking at me."
"I'm not ignoring you," you lied, your voice cracking slightly as you gripped your straps for dear life. "I've just been... incredibly busy. With school. Midterms just ended, and I have essays due..."
Sukuna let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed off the brick walls around you. "School. Right. Because staring at dead pieces of paper and listening to boring old men lecture is way more interesting than spending time with me. You're a terrible liar, you know that? Your pulse is jumping right through your neck."
He stepped even closer, completely invading your personal space until you were forced to tilt your chin up just to keep him in view. The scent of expensive, smoky cologne mixed with a faint, metallic edge of something entirely otherworldly washed over your senses. Up close, the black markings on his neck, partially obscured by the collar of his shirt, seemed to pulse with a strange, chaotic energy.
"You're shaking," he observed, a slow, sadistic grin stretching across his sharp features. He loved the visceral effect he had on people, especially someone as fragile and quiet as you. It fed his ego in a way that regular compliance never could. "What exactly are you so afraid of? I haven't even done anything to you yet. You act like I'm going to tear you apart right here."
"Please just let me go home," you pleaded softly, your knuckles turning white as you held onto your bag. "I'm tired."
"Hmm. Let me think about it..." Sukuna feigned a look of deep contemplation, tapping a tattooed finger against his chin before his expression hardened into something far more intense. "No. I don't think I will."
His hedonistic impulses always drove him to take exactly what he wanted, whenever the whim struck him, consequences be damned. And right now, looking at your flushed, terrified face and the way your lips parted in a soft gasp, he decided he wanted a reaction. A real, unfiltered one that shattered your quiet exterior completely.
Before your exhausted brain could even process the shift in his weight, his free hand came up. His large, warm fingers gently but firmly cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing roughly over the soft skin of your cheek. The sudden, intense skin-to-skin contact sent a jolt of pure, electric adrenaline straight through your veins, completely freezing the breath in your lungs.
"You're always running away," he murmured, his voice dropping a full octave, losing every ounce of its casual frat-boy bravado and taking on a heavy, hypnotic edge that made your knees feel weak. "Let's see what happens if you actually stay for once."
He began to lean down, his broad shoulders blocking out the remaining fragments of the afternoon sky. His eyes drifted deliberately down to your lips, his intention entirely transparent, devoid of any hesitation. Ryomen Sukuna was going to kiss you, right here on a public sidewalk in broad daylight, simply because the thought had crossed his mind and he possessed the power to do it.
Panic flared brightly and violently inside your chest. In that split second, your deeply ingrained instinct for self-preservation kicked into overdrive, entirely overriding your usual paralyzed shyness and social anxiety.
Just as his face neared yours—close enough for you to feel the hot, uneven warmth of his breath against your skin and see the individual flecks of crimson in his eyes—you ducked your head sharply to the left. At the exact same moment, you brought both of your hands up and shoved his chest with every remaining ounce of strength you had left in your body.
It felt like pushing against a solid, unyielding marble wall, but the sheer, unprecedented audacity of your physical resistance caught him completely off guard. Your sudden downward movement caused him to miss his mark entirely, his lips brushing harmlessly against the empty air near your ear instead of your mouth.
Taking immediate advantage of his momentary shock, you wrenched your backpack strap out of his loosened, surprised grip with a violent tug. You turned sharply on your heel and bolted down the sidewalk, your sneakers slapping against the pavement as fast as your legs could possibly carry you.
Sukuna stood frozen in place for a long, quiet second, his right hand still raised and shaped as if it were holding your jawline. He blinked once, then twice, his lower set of eyes widening in genuine, unadulterated disbelief. No one—*absolutely no one* in the history of his time at this university—had ever rejected him so bluntly, let alone physically dodged him, shoved him away, and fled the scene.
Slowly, his hand dropped back down to his side, his fingers flexing against the fabric of his jacket. He turned his head, watching your rapidly retreating figure disappear around the far corner of the residential street, your bright pink backpack bouncing wildly against your spine as you sprinted for safety without once looking back.
A heavy, tense silence hung over the empty sidewalk for a moment, the golden hour light glinting off the brick walls.
Then, a low, rumbling chuckle started deep within Sukuna's chest. It vibrated outward, gradually building in volume until it erupted into a loud, echoing laugh that caused a few passing underclassmen across the street to stop dead in their tracks and look at him in sheer terror. He reached up, running a heavily tattooed hand through his spiked pink hair, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous, sharp, and entirely renewed interest.
"Well, well," Sukuna muttered to himself, a dark, incredibly pleased smirk spreading across his face as he stared at the empty corner where you had just been. "The brat's actually got a spine after all. This just got a whole lot more fun."
hi sweets new chapter is finally out!! thank u for ur patience! hope u like my work ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜
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