“YO— man, what the fuck!?” Rafe yelled while looking like he was two seconds away from smashing the keyboard through the desk.
He was hunched over his desk in the dim glow of his monitor, his room a mess of empty beer cans and tangled controller chords while you were sprawled on his bed beside him, wearing nothing but one of his oversized football tees that barely covered your ass. Definitely horny.
You’d been waiting for almost an hour, doing everything just to catch his attention. You finally got really impatient and whined, stretching your leg out to nudge his bicep with your bare manicured foot, toes brushing against him.
“Rafey…~” you dragged out his name, voice needy and sweet.
Rafe didn’t even glance back, fingers slamming against the keyboard. “Mmm, what’s up, babe?” before one of his teammates screamed through the mic about saving him. “Cant you see I’m trying? they’re like five fucking people!”
You rolled your eyes, trying again. “Babyyyy~” Nudging on his bicep again.
He let out a long exasperated sigh, fingers still flying across the keyboard. “Yessss, sweetheart? i’m kinda in the middle of something, baby.”
You nudged him again, toes sliding down his arm. “Rafey, baby… come on.”
Rafe let out an irritated groan, ripping his headset off and spinning around in the chair. His jaw was tight, eyes flashing with annoyance. “Fine, fine! What do you want, babe?” he snapped, voice rough and frustrated. “You’ve been fucking whining my name for ten minutes straight while I’m trying to play ranked. Jesus Christ.”
You bit your lip, heat rushing through you at his tone. “i dunno… ‘m so horny…”
Rafe’s gaze dropped between your legs where the shirt had ridden up, spotting how slick you already were. “Seriously? That’s what this is about?” He grabbed your ankle and yanked you to the edge of the bed. “My needy little girlfriend can’t wait her turn, huh?
You nodded before he went in between you thighs and leaned in to kiss you. “no panties either, hm?” he mumbled against your lips.
Before you could answer, he shoved your thighs apart further and pushed two thick fingers into you roughly, curling them deep. You moaned, back arching instantly.
He spat directly on your pussy before dragging his thumb in between your folds before stopping at your clit and inserting three fingers in your hole.
Your legs started shaking, but right as you were getting close he pulled his fingers out.
He sat back in his gaming chair, shoving his sweats down just enough to free his hard, heavy cock. It slapped against his stomach as he reached into the desk drawer, pulled out a condom—extra large, duh—and tore the wrapper open with his teeth.
You watched, biting your lip, as he rolled the condom down his thick length with quick, practiced strokes, making sure it was secure at the base. His eyes stayed locked on you the whole time while doing couple quick strokes, pinching the tip to make sure it was on right.
He tapped on his thigh, “work for it.”
You climbed into his lap quick, straddling him. Rafe lined his cock up and you sank down onto him, gasping at how full he felt. He gripped your hips tight and immediately started thrusting up into you hard, slamming deep with every snap of his hips. “Yeah? finally got what y’wanted, huh?”
You tried to bounce but Rafe was relentless, pounding up into you with brutal force, his grip on your hips bruising as he controlled the pace. His breath was heavy against your neck. One hand fisted your hair, yanking your head back so he could growl right in your ear, “Greedy fucking pussy… couldn’t even let me finish the match, bro.”
He spat on your tits, watching it run down while he kept thrusting up hard, making you take every inch. His other hand smacked your ass sharply before gripping it tight. “love how y’fuckin beg for dick.”
“mmh, hmp!” You moaned, hands gripping his shoulders while you stuck out your tongue for him to spit on it and swallowing without hesitation before you came hard around him. You shook in his lap while he thrusted up even harder a few more times before he buried himself deep and filled the condom with a low curse.
He slapped your ass again, breathing heavy against your ear before he lifted you off of him. Peeling the condom off, tying it quick and tossing it in the trash before pushing your head toward his lap. “Now clean me up so i can try to salvage the fucking game you ruined, babe.”
Hey dude, I wanted to talk to you. I was changing by you in the locker room, and I couldn't help but notice, uh well, that you're trans. I swear, I wasn't trying to be a creep! But listen, I just want to let you know I support you. No matter what anybody used to think, you're obviously a dude now. But hey, if it's not too weird, I was wondering if, like, you have a dick or not? I saw you have those scars on your chest, and I was just curious. You know, it's cool if you don't. I just, I can't picture what it would be like, a dude. You know, it's all good, but hey, if it's not too much to ask, would you mind showing me? I want to be supportive and learn more about you. Hey, I'll show you mine if you show me yours. I'll go first. It's not that big, but I wouldn't call it small, either. I bet yours is awesome, dude. Just pull down your boxers for a sec. I just want a quick peek. Oh wow, you have a mini dick. It's got a head and everything. And it looks so soft. Can I touch it? I just want to feel it. Damn dude, it twitched when I put my finger on it. No, dude, don't apologize, that's totally normal. You want to see mine? Go ahead. Touch it. See? One little touch, and it's moving around like crazy and getting stiffer. Hey look, yours is getting kinda stiff. You're getting hard, too! That's cool. Yours looks wet, too! Mine gets wet a little before I cum. It tastes kinda salty and bitter. But you definitely smell different than how mine usually smells. Can I get closer? I'm just curious. I want to know the difference between your dick and mine. Mmmmm. You smell nice. Can I lick? Just one small one? Just to compare us, that's all. Ok, here we go. Holy shit bro, you taste good. So much better than mine, for sure. Want to try mine? It's starting to get a little wet, like yours. You can see the clear liquid on the tip. Get your mouth on there. You've gotta get the whole experience. It's only right, since you let me get my mouth all on you. Oh wow, man. Your mouth is so warm. Damn, I wouldn't mind if you keep going. Honestly, you should. You'll get a chance to taste my cum. And then after that, I want to try you again. Your dick looks even harder and wetter than before. And hey, I definitely owe you. You're sucking mine, so it's only fair that I return the favor. I'm your bro now. That's what friends are for.
I had gotten us all kicked out of the bar on Friday night, so my punishment was I have to spend the rest of the weekend as the frat house's "gorilla-boy"!!!
Your life before Ryomen Sukuna had been a quiet, predictable thing. It was structured entirely around high scores in your biology and history lectures, long library sessions, and winding down by baking elaborate tiers of cakes and pastries for your friends. You were the quiet anchor of your social circle the sweet girl everyone relied on for a kind word or a homemade treat.
Then came Sukuna.
He was the university’s notorious frat king, a towering presence with a reputation that felt more like a warning label than a resume. Every girl on campus was drawn to his sharp, dangerous edge, but you had despised him from a distance. To you, he was a volatile archetype with a terrible attitude, a man who seemed to take a twisted pleasure in mocking anyone he deemed below his standard. Rumors trailed him like smoke whispers of back-alley fights and brief stints in holding cells. You made a silent vow to keep your distance.
Even though your friends Gojo, Suguru, and Choso belonged to the same elite frat circle, they possessed a warmth Sukuna completely lacked. Your love life up to that point had been non-existent. While Gojo and the others rotated through casual flings, you remained a virgin, completely unfazed by the teasing remarks of your peers. Shoko frequently tried to set you up on dates, but the moment you began yapping about your favorite books, your desire to open a small bakery, or how you liked to feed the stray cats near your apartment, the boys would invariably lose interest. They wanted a quick hookup. More like a girl who would just fuck them on the very first date. But you wanted something real.
Your first actual interaction with Sukuna happened on a humid Tuesday evening right outside your dorm building. He was leaning against the brick framework, a lit cigarette between his lips, casually scrolling through his phone while holding a crumpled history prompt.
"Listen, woman" he had grunted, his deep, tattooed throat vibrating with an immediate, commanding arrogance. "I need you to write this worksheet for me. Have it done by tomorrow morning, and if you say no, I’ll make sure your semester becomes a living hell."
Terrified by the deadly expression in his dark eyes and the sheer physical presence of him, you had quietly taken the paper. You remembered him from that exact history lecture he had shown up thirty minutes late, kicked his heavy boots onto the desk, and played mobile games the entire time.
For the first two weeks, you tolerated it. But the resentment built until you finally snapped, shoving his completed assignment against his chest in the campus courtyard. "This is the absolute last time I am doing your work for him! You have hands, Sukuna. Do it yourself. I have my own exams to study for!"
To your absolute fury, he didn't yell. He merely let out a low, mocking laugh, taking the papers and walking away without a word.
The universe, however, had a cruel sense of humor. A week later, the professor assigned a massive, month-long history and art research project. You were paired with Sukuna and another student who conveniently claimed a medical emergency and fled the country the very next day. You were stranded with the one person you completely loathed.
For the first five days, Sukuna didn’t show up to a single study session. You dragged yourself to the library, determined to complete the entire outline alone. On the sixth day, he materialized out of nowhere, snatched your phone directly out of your hand to input his number, and muttered, "Come to my place tonight. I'm too busy to sit in this suffocating library."
Expecting a chaotic bachelor pad filled with empty beer cans, you were stunned to find a remarkably clean, quiet house. There were no parents, just Sukuna’s sixteen year old nephew, Yuji. Yuji was everything Sukuna wasn't bright, incredibly kind, and loud. Within an hour, Yuji had you laughing so hard your chest ached, and you found yourself teaching the boy how to properly fold dough for a batch of cinnamon rolls.
Throughout that month, something shifted in the atmosphere. Sukuna didn’t just sit back and watch you work. He listened. When you explained the historical context of the Renaissance pieces, his usual mocking sneer disappeared. He began contributing, his massive, calloused hands executing incredibly detailed, fascinating charcoal sketches for the visual portfolio.
The day after the project was submitted, you were walking back across the courtyard when Sukuna blocked your path. His face was entirely serious, his usual smug grin completely gone.
"be my girlfriend?" he asked bluntly, his eyes boring into yours.
It was sudden, perhaps even pathetic of you to agree given how much you had hated him weeks prior, but you had caught glimpses of the man behind the frat persona. You saw how he protected Yuji, how his mind worked when he was actually focused, and how his presence had slowly begun to feel like a strange sort of safety.
"Mhm. Alright," you murmured, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"Good" he replied, a familiar possessive glint returning to his eyes. "Make sure everyone on this campus knows you're mine. Be ready tomorrow at six."
Six months flew by in a blur of terrifying, beautiful intensity. You were entirely, deeply in love with him. You spent your evenings gushing to Shoko, Yuki, and Uraume about the tiny, quiet moments he only shared with you the way he would pull the blankets over your shoulders in the dead of night or how he kept every single ribbon from the bakery boxes you brought over.
"Ryo, purple or baby blue?" you called out, smoothing down the fabric of two different sundresses in front of your full-length mirror.
Sukuna was sprawled across your small apartment sofa, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. At the sound of your voice, he let out a low grunt, tossing the device onto the cushion. His eyes tracked your figure, softening almost imperceptibly as he took in the sight of you.
A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips. "How about the red one?"
"Mhm, let me guess just to match your eyes?" you teased, turning back to the closet to hang the options away.
"Hmph." He rose from the couch, his heavy footsteps silent against the rug. Suddenly, his large, warm hands wrapped around your waist from behind, his palms dropping lower to possessively squeeze your hip before he turned you around. He leaned down, his lips pressing firmly, hungrily against yours. You melted into the touch, blushing furiously as his thumbs caressed your skin.
You were happy. Truly, deeply happy. Sukuna had taken your virginity two months ago. It hadn't been the rough, reckless experience the campus rumors would have led you to believe. instead, he had been uncharacteristically patient, slow, and incredibly gentle, holding your face in his hands as if you were something fragile. Tonight, he was taking you out on his new motorcycle to a cozy, quiet cafe on the edge of town.
The cold evening air whipped against your skin as the bike roared down the open highway. Sukuna drove fast, but never fast enough to genuinely scare you. Your arms were locked securely around his broad torso, your face pressed flat against the sturdy leather of his jacket, inhaling the familiar scent of cedar, tobacco, and him.
"Hold tight, brat!" he shouted over the rumble of the engine, suddenly leaning hard into a sharp, winding curve that made you let out a breathless shriek of laughter.
"Ryo!" you screamed into his back, squeezing him tighter.
"You good?!" he called back, his broad shoulders shaking with a silent chuckle. You merely nodded against his spine, wishing the ride would last forever.
At the cafe, the contrast between him and the environment was almost comical. He sat in a delicate, vintage wooden chair, his massive frame towering over the small table, quietly sipping a black espresso while you happily devoured a slice of strawberry shortcake. You yapped endlessly about Shoko’s latest antics, a new pastry technique you wanted to try, and a video you had seen about stray animal shelters. Sukuna barely spoke, but his eyes never left your face. He watched the way your lips moved, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited. He would never admit it to a soul, but he lived for your voice. It was the only thing that could quiet the constant, aggressive noise in his own head.
You were his girl. His sweet, innocent girl.
The entire fraternity knew it. He had nearly broken Kenjaku’s jaw for making a crude comment about you during a mixer, and he fiercely guarded your presence from the chaotic underbelly of his social life.
As the summer holidays approached, you caught a miserable stomach bug that left you bedridden for a week, forcing you to miss several campus events. Sukuna had been attentive, bringing you medicine and sitting silently by your bed, but tonight, there was a massive end of the semester party at Gojo’s mansion. You had told Sukuna to go without you, noting the immediate, disappointed slump of his shoulders.
By 11:00 PM, however, you felt remarkably better. Wanting to surprise him and ensure he wasn't feeling lonely, you got out of bed. Yuki had rushed over earlier to help you do your makeup flawlessly, and you slipped into a beautiful, butter yellow silk dress that hugged your curves perfectly, pairing it with your favorite strappy heels.
You walked up the sweeping driveway of Gojo’s estate alongside Shoko. The house was practically vibrating from the bass of the music, neon strobe lights bleeding through the heavy glass windows.
"Shit, it's packed," Shoko muttered, keeping a protective hand on your lower back as you navigated the crowded foyer. "Where’s your man?"
"I don't know," you said, your eyes scanning the sea of dancing students, smelling the heavy stench of cheap alcohol and marijuana. "Maybe he's in the back with Toji or Kenjaku?"
"Maybe..." Shoko’s voice suddenly dropped, freezing completely in her tracks.
"Let's check upstairs, Sho, he might be—"
"That absolute piece of fucking trash." Shoko hissed, her grip on your arm tightening until it bruised.
You followed her rigid gaze across the sprawling living room. The breath completely left your lungs.
There, on the main leather sofa under the flashing red lights, sat Sukuna. A lit cigarette hung from his fingers, a lazy, arrogant smirk plastered across his face. And sitting squarely on his lap was a beautiful, slender girl from one of the sororities, her arms draped around his neck as she whispered something in his ear. He wasn't pushing her away. He wasn't moving. He was just taking a drag from his cigarette, absorbing the attention.
The butter yellow dress suddenly felt suffocating. The room began to spin, the bass shaking your very bones. Tears welled up in your eyes instantly, blurring the agonizing sight. You felt small. Pathetic. In an instant, the illusion of the last six months shattered. You weren't his special, sweet girl; you were just another conquest, a naive nerd he had managed to break and string along.
"I am going to fucking kill motherfucker!" Shoko roared, her face contorted in pure rage as she stormed across the room, knocking drinks out of people's hands.
You stood frozen, a single tear cutting a stark line through your foundation. You wanted to run, but your legs felt like lead.
"Ryomen Sukuna!" Shoko’s voice pierced through the thumping music as she reached the couch, violently grabbing the girl by her shoulder and shoving her off his lap.
Sukuna blinked, an annoyed grunt slipping past his lips as he straightened up. "What the fuck is your problem?!" he snapped, standing up to his full height.
"What is my problem?! Are you out of your goddamn mind?! You cheating bastard!" Shoko screamed, her finger buried in his chest.
"Huh? What the fuck are you talking about—" Sukuna stopped. His eyes drifted past Shoko’s shaking form, scanning the crowd until they locked onto you.
The words died in his throat. You looked ethereal in the yellow dress, like an angel dropped into a basement of sin. But your shoulders were trembling, your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides, and your vision was completely drowned in tears that were now dragging black trails of mascara down your cheeks.
"Fucking... shit. Shit!" Sukuna’s face drained of color. He took a frantic step toward you, but Shoko threw her body in front of him, shoving him back. He didn't care. He brushed her off with a desperate, heavy sweep of his arm, his eyes locked entirely on your breaking form.
The sudden movement broke your paralysis. Turning on your heel, you let out a ragged sob and ran for the front door, the heels clicking frantically against the hardwood
.
"Y/N! Just fucking stop! Wait!" Sukuna’s booming voice echoed behind you, heavy footsteps sprinting through the house.
You burst through the front doors into the cool, damp night air, running down the stone steps. You didn't make it past the edge of the lawn before his large hand clamped around your wrist, firmly but gently spinning you around to face him.
"Hey... hey, look at me. Don't cry, please," Sukuna breathed, his chest heaving as he reached up with trembling fingers to wipe the wetness from your cheeks.
"Don't. Do not touch me, Ryomen," you whispered, your voice cracking into a jagged, painful sound
.
He froze. The hand near your face dropped as if he had been burned. Ryomen. Not Ryo. The raw formality of it hit him like a physical blow to the sternum. In that single word, he realized the gravity of what he had allowed to happen, a sickening dread twisting deep in his gut.
"Hey, let’s just talk. I can explain, alright? It’s not what it looked like" he pleaded, his usual steady, terrifying demeanor completely unravelling into sheer panic.
"No. It’s over. I’m breaking up with you—"
"For what?!" he yelled, a desperate edge cracking his deep voice. "She just sat on my lap, Y/N! I wasn't fucking her, I didn't touch her—"
"Oh, and you think that makes it better?!" you screamed back, the heartbreak finally tearing out of your chest. "I loved you, Ryomen! I genuinely loved you! But I was just a stupid, silly nerd to you, wasn't I? A pawn in whatever twisted game you play with everyone else on this campus. You just wanted to see if you could break the sweet girl, and you did. Congratfuckingulations."
You wiped furiously at your eyes, gasping for air as your chest heaved. "I don't regret a single second I spent with you. I don't regret the baking, or Yuji, or when we laughed in the rain like idiots. I don't even regret giving you my virginity, because I did it out of love. But how could you do this to me? It's over. Leave me alone."
Sukuna’s eyes widened, a profound, suffocating silence settling over him. He swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal. "No... Y/N... please. I'm sorry. I am so fucking sorry. You were never a pawn. I swear to Christ, I never used you. You're the only thing in my life that's actually special. I love you. just..." He ran a frantic hand through his pink hair, trying desperately to control the moisture pricking at the corners of his own eyes.
"Let's just calm down and talk tomorrow, okay? You're emotional right now. Let me drive you home, and then we—"
"Get the fuck away from her!" Shoko's voice cut through the darkness like a knife. She marched down the steps, her face pale with anger, followed closely by Gojo, Suguru, and Kenjaku.
"Stay fuck out of this, for god Sake Shoko! This is between me and my fucking girl!" Sukuna roared, his teeth bared as he stepped between you and the group.
Kenjaku stepped forward, placing a heavy, cautioning arm over Sukuna’s shoulder. "Man, cool it. Don't make a massive scene on the lawn. Let her go home, talk to her when she's calm." Kenjaku began pulling a resistant, furious Sukuna back toward the house, while Gojo and Suguru stood like a wall, glare fixed entirely on the pink haired boy.
"Text me when you get home!" Sukuna shouted over his shoulder, his eyes wide with a desperate, fragile hope as he was dragged away. "Y/N!!"
You couldn't look at Gojo or Suguru. The pity in their eyes made you feel utterly nauseous and exposed.
"I'm going home" you muttered to the concrete, turning away. "See you guys later."
"No way, we're driving you" Gojo said softly, stepping forward to wrap a comforting arm around your trembling shoulders.
"Please" you choked out, pulling away from his touch. "I just need to be completely alone right now. Please."
Suguru caught Gojo’s sleeve, giving you a small, heartbreakingly sad smile. "Let her have some time, Satoru. Let’s go handle the idiot inside." He gently guided Gojo back toward the estate.
It took you another grueling ten minutes to convince Shoko to let you walk away. She was terrified you would do something reckless, but you managed a weak, hollow smile. "I have too much self-respect to hurt myself over him, Shoko. I promise. Just... let me go."
Frustrated and weeping herself, Shoko finally turned back toward the house, explicitly stating she was going to tear Sukuna apart.
Left in the quiet darkness of the suburban street, you walked a few paces before your knees simply gave out. You collapsed onto the concrete curb near the edge of the property, burying your face in your hands. The tears came in violent, suffocating waves, your chest racking with heavy hiccups. The mascara smeared completely across your face, staining the beautiful yellow silk of your dress.
Every sweet memory played on a cruel loop in your mind his low laughter, the warmth of his hands, the gentle way he had kissed you in the quiet of your apartment. You had truly believed you were his angel.
"Kuna..." you whispered into your palms, a broken sob tearing from your throat
.
You were crying so loudly, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, that you didn't even hear the heavy click of boots on the pavement. It wasn't until a tall, broad shadow fell over your frame, blocking out the distant neon lights of the party, that you slowly lifted your head.
"Quite an asshole, isn't he?"
The voice was rough, deep, and laced with a calm, steady gravity.
You blinked through your tear-blurred vision, sniffing heavily as you looked up at the towering figure standing over you
.
"Toji...?" you murmured, your voice barely audible.
Toji Fushiguro stood there, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, his dark eyes looking down at you with a rare, quiet gentleness that held absolutely no pity. only a grounded, solid understanding. He pulled one hand from his pocket, extending it down toward you, his palm open.
"Come on," he said softly, the rough edge of his voice surprisingly soothing against the quiet night. "Let's get you home."
You stared at his large, scarred hand for a long moment, hesitating as a fresh tear spilled over your lashes.
Toji let out a faint, entirely non-threatening chuckle, shifting his weight. "I won't bite. Unless you are into it."
With a shaky, trembling breath, you reached up and slid your small hand into his warm, steady grip.
