Letters for the Wicked - ch 06
⁀➷summary: ryomen sukuna has been in jail for 9 years, 3 months, and 27 days...not that he's counting. sentenced to 20 years for a crime he doesn't regret committing, life has become so monotonous and dull that he barely feels alive. it isn't until he receives a letter from someone for the first time since he's been locked up that he feels even a shred of emotion...and he's not sure if he likes that. forced to be part of the prison penpal program in order to be considered for parole, sukuna slowly unravels his defenses with each letter received. perhaps there might be something worth looking forward to after all.
⁀➷ pairing: prisoner!sukuna x penpal!fem!reader
⁀➷tags: prison au, penpals to reluctant friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine-ish, def ooc, slight age gap (reader is mid twenties, sukuna is early 30s), yearning, angst, slowburn, mentions of death/blood/violence, depression/anxiety, mentions of drug use/cigarettes, prison, violence, minimal use of y/n in letters only, family disagreements, suguru being a little shit, toji being a gossip lol, fluff adjacent
⁀➷wc: 4.3k
⁀➷ warning: minors/ageless blogs: do not interact!
⁀➷ taglist: open, bio/pinned must confirm age
series masterlist
“Well, well, well. Looks like things are going well with your penpal.”
Suguru’s voice sounded particularly smug and teasing as he looked at Sukuna knowingly from across his desk. The way his lips curved up reminded him of an evil villain's cat, dripping with superiority and triumph. To an outsider, Suguru appeared to have a warm quality to him, but Sukuna knew better. The man was a snake personified and he didn’t care for him at all.
Unlike him, Sukuna was actually mature and would not rise to his bait. His caseworker probably thought that he could sit here and gloat to Sukuna about forcibly signing him up for the penpal program. If Suguru was going to be a child about it, then Sukuna would be the adult in this situation.
“Fuck off,” he bit out with irritation. A beacon of maturity.
Contrary to his wishes, Suguru did not balk or bite back. No, he actually laughed at Sukuna like they were both just giving each other shit like friends. It made him want to tear his pink hair out in clumps. The man was frustratingly hard to rattle. Normally Sukuna didn’t care, but something about Suguru annoyed him to no end.
“Why so defensive? I’m merely commenting on what I can see,” his caseworker smiled, “Things are going well, no?”
“It’s not really any of your business,” he huffed stubbornly. If there was one thing he was not going to do, it was admitting that Suguru was ever right in any capacity about anything. Nor was he about to discuss anything even remotely emotional in nature with that asshole.
“Sukuna. We’ve been over this,” Suguru sighed, “Your business is my business. You don’t have business of your own. You’re in prison. I’m able to read the letters and it seems like you’ve gotten closer with her, which is a good thing. That’s all I’m saying.”
The word choice made Sukuna bristle. If it was obvious to Suguru that the two of you had gotten closer, then that did not bode well. In fact, it put him extremely on edge. He knew what happened when he got close to people. You seemed like a nice person, and he would probably end up hurting you in some way. For some reason, that bothered him.
You were far too sweet for the likes of him. There was no earthly reason why you needed to be getting close with a prisoner. Someone who had taken a life. Yes, despite your seemingly gentle demeanor, you were also an adult that had been fully warned he was not a good person and you had chosen to proceed anyway. He shouldn’t care at all about the consequences, but he did. It was frustrating to no end because he had no idea what made you different in his mind.
The worst part of it all was that he could not stop thinking of your voice if he tried. It was constantly in his head, bouncing around like a ping pong ball over and over and over. It rang through his ears like the sweetest melody, and he wanted to hear more of it. This made him feel unbelievably selfish. It made him want to pull away entirely.
“It’s not like that. We’re just penpals,” Sukuna defended, resisting the urge to tear at a hangnail until it bled.
“Whatever you say. If you keep up whatever the hell it is, you’ll probably get that recommendation letter by the end of the year,” Suguru mused, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he smiled condescendingly at Sukuna. At least, that’s what he assumed that stupid expression on his face was.
After the meeting, Sukuna felt guilt creeping up his spine. He didn’t want to just use you as a recommendation for his own gain. That wasn’t really fair to you. Especially because he could tell you were becoming attached. You were the one that kept wanting to get closer. To break down the walls he had carefully constructed for himself to keep him and others safe. To ask him to care about something when he never wanted to. Not since Yuji died.
What Sukuna could not deny to himself, however, was that he did like talking to you. Whether it was by letter or over the phone, he found himself almost enjoying your limited company. Finding comfort in your conversations, even. And comfort was not something Sukuna ever desired or sought out. You had wormed your way in and nestled in his mind like a parasite. Latching on with hooks that threatened to kill him if he tried to pull them out.
Whenever he spoke to you, his brain turned into ridiculous goo and he lost all sense of reason and conviction. At first, his letters had started out as malicious compliance to do what Suguru had pressured him to do. Now…he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing. He probably needed to end this.
Later, when he was smoking with Toji in the courtyard, heavy thoughts were still weighing on his mind. Particularly, he was thinking about how you had asked to talk to him over the phone again. A war was waging internally about whether he should do it or not. Perhaps he should just stick to the letters and draw a polite but firm line in the sand and pointedly ignore or deny your request. Maybe he should bow out entirely and tell you that you needed to find someone else to talk to.
“How’s your penpal?” Toji asked suddenly. Sukuna nearly jumped, having been so immersed that he had forgotten the man was beside him. For a brief paranoid moment, he wondered if he had been talking out loud without realizing it.
“Why’s everyone keep asking me that?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was really starting to irritate him that people were prying about something that had nothing to do with them.
“That bad, huh? She get sick of you already or something?” his companion retorted with a snort. It wasn’t a cruel sound but it still made Sukuna tense. Why did he hate the thought of you getting sick of him? Why did that make him want to lash out in a childish manner? What right did he have to feel that way at all?
“No. The opposite,” Sukuna said roughly. He refused to look and see the expression on Toji’s face, focusing instead on a small pebble in front of them as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
“Ahh,” Toji said, a knowing and teasing lilt to his voice, “Got yourself a prison wife, then.”
Sukuna did not bother to dignify that with a response and focused instead on not turning around and punching Toji like he would have done if it was anybody else. There was no way in hell your interest in him was romantic in any way. It couldn’t be. A strange feeling tickled in the middle of his chest, persistent and uncomfortable. Unidentifiable. Horrifying, in a way.
“Don’t feel the same?” Toji pressed.
It wasn’t immediately clear to Sukuna why Toji was so interested in the situation. In fact, it was beyond irritating. He much preferred it when they just smoked in neutral silence. He speculated that Toji was bored and gossiping for the hell of it. Some guys in there ended up like old hens clucking at each other about any little thing that happened. He supposed it was almost inevitable with the way they were closed off from the world, but he didn’t want any part in it.
“It’s not like that,” he parroted, “We’re friends, that’s all. It’s complicated.” Christ, now you went from being his penpal to his friend? This was getting worse by the minute.
“Course it is. You’re in prison, for fuck’s sake,” Toji replied, “Look, not many people find someone willing to care about them in here. If she wants to throw herself at you or better yet, throw money at you, just let her. Take advantage of it while you can. Might even get you outta here faster. Hell, I’m considering doin’ the same thing for myself.”
Take advantage of it. The sentence made Sukuna deeply uncomfortable. It shouldn’t have, yet it did. He was no stranger in his past of taking what he wanted. It was part of what led to the robbery and Yuji’s death. Other people were often of little consequence to him. He didn’t care that he had shot Kamo or that Todo served time in prison. He didn’t really care that his family hated him and he didn’t really have friends anymore. Really, never had them in the first place.
Sukuna liked being alone. He liked only having to rely on himself and not having to choose his words carefully to avoid upsetting someone. He liked not giving a fuck about anything else other than moving forward and getting through the damn day.
At first, he hadn’t even really cared all that much about upsetting you. It was a natural consequence and he had never asked for your attention. For any of this. Now that he had gotten to know you, Sukuna simply couldn’t take advantage of your kindness. Especially not when you had said multiple times how hard this was for you.
He knew he shouldn’t care. This wasn’t going to end well, he was sure of it. Sukuna would probably be the reason it all fell apart. It would slip from his fingers and he was going to deserve it. The fact that he saw you as something important enough to theoretically regret was horrifying to him.
Unfortunately, Sukuna was a selfish bastard. Even if he knew how much trouble this was going to be, you felt like a drug he couldn’t quit. A sweet hit of dopamine that clouded his senses and distracted him from the purgatory he was currently stuck in. It was highly hypocritical of him since he kept trying to shake everyone off his tail in their speculations of the nature of your relationship to him.
He knew he shouldn’t book time to call you again. He knew he shouldn’t let the prison guard lead him to the phone room. He knew he shouldn’t tell the operator to dial your number and patiently wait as the call connected. Sukuna knew he shouldn’t allow himself the smallest of smiles when you answered the phone with your all but angelic voice. Calling him “Ryomen”.
Yet he did each and every one of those things. Like jumping from a burning building, knowing he was going to eventually hit the ground. For one brief, sweet moment, it was going to feel like he was flying.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Going back home to your family was always hard, especially since you moved. In fact, you had only been back to visit them once. Seeing your hometown and the memories that would flood through the second you crossed the town border was still a bit painful. You knew that your ex still lived in the area, and the thought of seeing him made you want to be sick.
Thankfully, it was just dinner at your mom’s house. Nowhere in public that you could possibly run into him at. You were only going to see your family, chat about your life, and return home to watch a mindless television show that you could knit to.
Things went well at first. The drive into the city was only an hour and traffic was relatively light as you left work early that day. Your boss, Kento, had been slightly surprised by you asking for the time as you hadn’t taken any since you were hired, but he had quickly agreed when you informed him that your work was caught up and all pertinent invoices had been paid.
When you arrived at your house, your parents and younger brother were already in the final stages of completing dinner. Your mom greeted you with a hug and kiss to the cheek, while your brother affectionately ruffled your hair and greeted you by calling you a loser. To which your mother gave him a halfhearted smack on the shoulder.
As you all settled down at the familiar oak dining room table, your mother asked how everything had been going. You told her about your job and that things had been busy but slowing down. Very surface level things like you were used to discussing. Your brother also provided updates on his life and informed everyone he was seeing someone named Yoruzo, who was apparently “hot as fuck”. He had little else to say about her personality and nobody really pressed him.
It wasn’t until halfway through dinner that shit hit the fan. An innocent question started it all. One that shouldn’t have been controversial.
“Have you met anybody new in the city? Made any new friends?” Your mother asked as she grabbed a forkful of chicken.
You thought about lying and saying that you hadn’t. Technically it wouldn’t have been a lie because the prison wasn’t located within city lines, so you really hadn’t met anybody in the city specifically. But that was cherry picking and you selfishly wanted to gush about your newfound friendship with Ryomen. After your phone call, you had immediately decided to declare it as such in your mind.
“Actually, I have,” you said as you sat upright, “I met this guy through a prisoner penpal program and we’ve been exchanging letters and talking pretty often.”
The silence that suddenly enveloped the room could have been cut with a knife. The previously stabbed chicken had paused on the way to your mom’s mouth and her expression froze as if time had stopped. Your brother, on the other hand, looked positively delighted.
“You’re dating a felon? No fucking way,” he laughed loudly, “Somehow still an upgrade to your last relationship. That guy was boring.”
“We’re not dating,” you rushed to clarify, though your cheeks felt warm at the thought, “Just friends. He’s really nice, though.”
“Nice? He’s…nice?” your mom croaked, looking to your dad for assistance and receiving nothing but an impassive look. He had never been good at conflict, that man.
“Yes,” you frowned, crossing your arms. The air around the table felt like a pressure cooker about to explode.
“A man…in prison…is nice?” your mom’s voice became strained, and you could see her becoming visibly upset. You had expected a bit of backlash but could quickly see this getting far beyond control. You needed to reign it in before it escalated.
“Yes,” you repeated, “He’s nice to me. We have really good conversations and I feel like he really understands me.”
It was apparently the wrong thing to say. The pressure cooker finally exploded.
“Of course he’s nice to you, honey, he wants something from you!” Your mom exclaimed with a belittling scoff, “Do you think he ended up in prison by being a good person? You’re young and single and all alone in the city, he’s going to take advantage of that! He’s going to expect things from you and hurt you. Do you even know why he’s in prison?”
All of this was said extremely fast and so high-pitched that your mother sounded like a tea kettle. The insinuation that Ryomen was only talking to you because he wanted something, and not because he enjoyed your company, hurt more than you expected. You thought that he was being genuine, especially because he had actually initially resisted your letters. It felt remarkably like he was a feral cat you had finally coaxed onto your porch with wet food and a low soothing voice.
“Why is that even relevant? His past doesn’t matter,” you said defensively.
“Of course it’s relevant! What if he’s some sort of sick predator who preys on young women? Or worse? The fact that you won’t say what he did is worrying me,” your mom shot back, her voice steadily rising.
“It’s a matter of safety,” your dad finally agreed gruffly, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else other than at that table.
With tensions already high, you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell them the reason he was in prison. It felt strangely like a violation of Ryomen’s privacy, and you knew they would all react quite strongly to it. On the surface, what he had done was objectively wrong, but you also knew the story of what happened. You doubted your family would be willing to hear you out.
Just when you thought about deflecting again and refusing to answer, your brother had the misfortune of making a snide comment.
“What, did he kill someone or something?”
For a moment, you hesitated, unsure how to answer. That pause spoke volumes, an answer in itself. The table positively erupted with a variety of dramatic responses.
Your mother screeched out your name in shock, unable to believe what she was hearing. Your dad looked bewildered, shaking his head and asking if you were out of your mind. Ever testing the boundaries of crossing the line, your brother had a different approach.
“That’s fucking hilarious!” he guffawed, clutching his stomach as he leaned back in his chair, “You’re dating a murderer?”
“It’s not funny and we’re not dating,” you reminded him firmly, “Look, I understand your concern, but it’s not what you think-”
“The man killed someone,” your dad frowned, his mouth a firm line.
“Yes, I know that,” you said, your voice starting to raise with frustration, “You’re all being so quick to judge, but you don’t know him or what happened. It’s not that simple! We’ve been talking for a few months now, and he’s been my only friend since I’ve moved!”
“Man, c’mon, I get you’re sad from the breakup and stuff, but your standards can’t be that low,” your brother snorted.
It was a petty blow that made your chest clench. Deep down, you knew you shouldn’t have said anything. That you should have kept Ryomen all to yourself and lived in a bubble where it was just the two of you and nobody else to judge or offer unwanted comments about who they thought he was. It felt like you really knew who he actually was, and you liked that person.
“Can we just stop talking about this, please?” You said with a frown.
“No, I don’t think we can,” your mom fought back, “Honey, we’re worried about your safety. This is a dangerous man that now has your home address.”
“I’m an adult, mom. I know what I’m doing and I don’t find him to be dangerous. I can take care of myself,” you gritted out. Suddenly, you were no longer hungry or enjoying this meal with your family.
After a few more back and forth exchanges, you eventually got your family to drop the subject by refusing to answer or engage. The rest of dinner was extremely awkward, with you refusing to look at anybody and picking at your chicken that suddenly tasted like wet napkins.
As you were leaving, your mom told you to be careful and advised that you stop talking to Ryomen. You went rigid in the hug and didn’t respond, eager to get as far away from them all as possible. The entire ride home, you kept thinking about their response and how quickly they had been to make assumptions about his character. They wouldn’t even hear you out or listen to you. They didn’t care that he made you happy.
This is where most people might start to doubt themselves. To wonder if maybe their family was right and to distance themselves. A stubborn, unusual defiance had rolled through you, however, and you wanted to reject their thoughts outright. They had no idea what they were talking about, and it wasn’t as if they had been particularly supportive after your breakup either.
No, you were not going to stop talking to Ryomen. The only thing that would make you do so is if Ryomen no longer wanted to be friends. The thought alone made you slightly distressed, but you would respect that if that was what he wanted.
As you arrived home and began to settle down for the night (though settle was a relative term as you were still quite worked up from the fight with your family) your phone rang. Your heart jumped into your throat when you recognized the number as the operator for the prison. As if the universe itself was trying to assure you this was the right choice.
You hopped onto the couch with a giddy smile on your face, accepting the call from the robotic voice and waiting for them to patch Ryomen through. Your pulse thundered excitedly, every cell of your body practically singing with excitement.
“Hello?” Ryomen’s deep voice rumbled through the phone, sending your stomach in a backflip.
“Ryomen! Hi!” You chirped, bolting upright as if he was suddenly standing in front of you. You nervously picked at a loose thread on the back of the couch.
“Hey,” he said, and you swore it sounded like he was smiling, “I keep forgetting you call me that.”
“That I call you Ryomen?” You asked, feeling a bit unsure. Was that not his name?
“Yeah. Nobody really calls me that anymore. Usually go by Sukuna,” he said. It was hard to read his tone per usual, but you felt a sudden panic. Perhaps you had been offending or bothering him the entire time. You probably should have asked what he preferred.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you apologized reflexively, “Should I call you Sukuna?”
“No, Ryomen’s fine. I don’t mind if it’s from you,” he responded, pausing for a moment before he gruffly asked, “How’ve you been?”
If it’s from you. You couldn’t deny that the statement made you feel special, like he was making some sort of exception solely because of you. That you got to call him something that he didn’t normally let other people call him, and he was allowing it just for you.
The thought did funny things to your poor heart, which felt close to bursting. Your mind wanted to wander about why he wanted to make such an exception and if that meant something about how he felt about you, but you needed to focus on the conversation.
“I’ve been okay. My family is annoying me, but that’s not really new,” You snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought. They clearly had no idea what they were talking about.
“Something happen?” he asked.
For a moment, you almost thought about telling him what they had said about your friendship, but decided against it. A small part of you feared that if you told him they thought it wasn’t a good idea to talk to him that he would agree. Not that he really seemed like the type of person that cared what other people thought…but still. You had learned your lesson about involving your family.
“They just don’t really understand me,” you settled on saying, “Nothing new, really. How about you?”
“Well, I’m still in prison,” Ryomen said dryly, a hint of sarcastic humor to his tone, “So do with that what you will.”
Your conversation fell into the same familiar, friendly pattern that it did previously. There was even less awkward tension than before, like this was something the two of you did so often it was second nature. Most of it was small talk, with you doing the bulk of it, talking about inconsequential details of your life. Ryomen was a good listener, and prompted you with insightful follow-up questions that showed he was actually listening instead of simply agreeing to further the conversation.
An impulsive question was brewing in the back of your head. You wanted to prove your family wrong about him and take your friendship to the next level. To challenge yourself even more than you already had. You wanted to meet Ryomen in person and visit him at the prison.
It wasn’t a solid goal or plan, as it mostly hinged on his comfort and agreement. You were fully expecting him to deny you, which was what made it harder to find the courage to just ask. Ultimately, you were fueled by annoyance and the desire to stick it to your family’s unnecessary and frustrating opinions about him.
“Hey, I have a question for you,” you said after a slight lull in conversation.
“Go for it,” he said gruffly. His voice sounded a little guarded, which you expected.
“Feel free to say no, but I was wondering if I could visit you at the prison soon?” You said, resisting the urge to start pacing around the apartment with nervous energy. Or to start apologizing. Or overexplaining your justification.
Silence. Your heart thumped against your chest in protest, regret starting to make your body feel tense. Maybe it was too soon to ask that. You had only spoken on the phone twice now, and he was a very private person. Perhaps you had gone too far this time.
Just when you were about to take it all back and try to deflect into an awkward segue, Ryomen spoke.
“Yeah,” he said simply, “You can visit.”
The relief that flooded through your body was so swift it almost made you lightheaded. It was replaced, instead, by excitement and a strangely elated feeling that you remembered from when you first started seeing your ex-boyfriend. The feeling was both familiar and scary at the same time. It made you feel warm and tingling and like your heart would never slow down to a normal pace.
You were starting to develop feelings for Ryomen Sukuna.
“Great, that’s great,” you gushed, feeling your cheeks go warm with delight, “Is next week okay?”
“Yeah, next week is fine,” he said. You tried not to imagine him smiling and feeling excited too, but you couldn’t help but hope he felt the same. Your poor heart couldn’t take it when he added, “Looking forward to it.”
After you had gotten off the phone, you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. In a week’s time, you were going to finally see Ryomen in person for the first time. You wondered what he looked like, if he was just as intriguing as his voice sounded. If this could be the start of something terrifyingly refreshing and beautiful all at once.
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⁀➷ a/n: so sorry for the delay on this one, writing has been hard and my personal life is a lot at the moment! sukunas perspective on suguru is so funny bc i love suguru but i feel like sukuna would hate him lol. also toji being a gossip is ooc but really funny to me. fair warning, next chapter is going to be angstyyy. enjoy enjoy enjoy!!
⁀➷ sukuna art by innaillus on twitter
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