ꨄ.𓏲ᵎᵎֶָ֢ DO I WANNA KNOW?.ᐟ .ᐟ
pairing ✮⋆˙ sukuna ryomen x reader
summary ˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞 after meeting sukuna ryomen — the guy who tells you to “go away” like it’s a personality trait, you do the opposite and keep showing up. despite his words, he never actually makes you leave, and somewhere between the arguments and quiet moments, his walls start to crack. when you finally give him the choice to let you go for real.. the truth is forced to surface.
wc — 3.3k?
the bass thumped a restless heartbeat against the soles of your sneakers, vibrating up your spine. bodies pressed in a humid mass, the air thick with cheap cologne and spilled beer.
laughter splintered through the cacophony, a thousand conversation vying for space.
you navigated the cramped living room, a half-empty red cup clutched in your hand, when a flash of pink caught your eye.
he stood by the kitchen doorway, a wall of indifference in the chaos. his black shirt stretched taut across broad shoulders, and a silver chain glinted at his throat.
his eyes, the colour of scarlet red, swept over the room, dismissing each face until they landed on yours.
a flicker, almost imperceptible, passed through them before settling into a familiar, unyielding gaze. sukuna, his reputation preceded him like a thunderclap.
cold, blunt, a man who built walls with words and reinforced them with silence.
“you” he articulated, his voice a low thrum that cut through the surrounding din, surprisingly clear. he didn’t raise his voice, yet the word landed with the weight of an accusation.
“go away”
a slow smile stretched across your face. most people would recoil, embarrassed. most people did.
you, however, found it charming in its audacity. you took another step closer. “already?” you asked, your voice a playful challenge.
you gestured around the crowded room. “the party just started”
his lips, thin and precise, tightened. he didn’t move, didn’t shift his weight, just held your gaze with an intensity that promised a storm. “i don’t repeat myself”
“good to know” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. “because i’m not leaving”
a beat of silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken challenge. others glanced over, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
they expected you to wilt, to retreat. sukuna’s reputation ensured it. but you met his stare, a quiet defiance burning in your eyes. he watched you, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
then, without another word, he turned, shouldering past a cluster of laughing students, and vanished down a hallway.
“see?” you muttered to the empty space he left behind. “he never actually said ‘please’”
the next week you saw him, it was a tuesday afternoon. you walked past the student union, textbooks tucked under your arm, when you spotted him on a bench.
a worn leather-bound book open in his hands. sunlight caught the light pink streaks in his hair. he looked engrossed, a rare sight given his usual posture of detached observation.
you veered off course, your steps deliberately light, and settled onto the bench beside him. he didn’t flinch, didn’t even look up.
“reading?” you inquired, leaning slightly to peer at the page. “didn’t take you for the literary type”
his gaze lifted, slow and deliberate, from the page to your face. the crimson eyes held no surprise, only a familiar, weary irritation.
“what do you want?” his voice was flat, devoid of inflection.
“just saying hello” you shrugged, shifting your bag. “and wondering what dark philosophy you’re devouring”
he closed the book with a soft thud, covering the title. “none of your business”
“everything is my business” you countered, a dimple appearing in your cheek. “eventually” he sighed, a low, frustrated sound that barely escaped his lips.
he rose, the book now tucked under his arm, and started to walk away without saying anything. “leaving so soon?” you called after him, a grin playing on your lips.
“just when i was getting comfortable!”
he didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge you. but you noticed his pace hadn’t quickened. he walked at the same measured stride, disappearing around the corner of the building.
you watched him go, the smile lingering. he didn’t tell you to go away, progress.
the rhythm of your encounters began to establish itself, a strange, unspoken dance. you’d spot him, you’d approach, and he’d tell you to leave. and you wouldn’t.
one evening you found yourself outside his dorm room. you’d gotten the room number from a mutual acquaintance.
a friend of a friend who found your obsession with sukuna both baffling and amusing. you knocked, a series of light taps on heavy wood.
silence stretched, then the door creaked open. he stood there, a towel slung over his shoulder, water still glistening on his bare chest and the tips of his pink hair.
his eyes narrowed. “what do you want?” he repeated, the question now a weary refrain.
“just delivering a message” you said, holding up a small, crumpled flyer. “there’s a philosophy club meeting tonight. thought you might be interested, given your… literary tastes”
he glanced at the flyer, then at your face. a faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his jaw. “i’m not interested” his voice was a low growl.
“and i told you to leave me alone”
“you did” you agreed, stepping a fraction closer. “but you didn’t actually make me leave, did you?”
he stared at you, his red eyes burning with a mixture of annoyance and something else you couldn’t quite decipher.
a flicker of curiosity?
he didn’t slam the door. he didn’t push you away. he just stood there, letting the cool air from the hallway mix the warmth of his room.
“this is my dorm” he stated, as if you hadn’t noticed.
“i know” you said, your gaze sweeping past him into the dimly lit room. bookshelves lined one wall, overflowing with texts.
a desk sat beneath a window, scattered with papers. it was surprisingly neat for a college guy, and utterly devoid of personal touches. “can i come in?”
his lips thinned. “no”
you took another step, your shoulder brushing the doorway. “why not?”
he hesitated, a long moment of silence punctuated only by the distant hum of the campus. he seemed to be searching for an answer, or perhaps just for the willpower to physically remove you.
he found neither.
“because i don’t want you here” he finally said, his voice flat.
“but you’re not stopping me” you pointed out, stepping fully into the room. you turned, facing him, a small smile playing on your lips. “see? i’m in”
he watched you, his chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate rhythm. the towel slipped a little further down his shoulder.
he didn’t move to adjust it. he just stood there, arms crossed, observing you as if you were an anomaly he couldn’t quite categorise.
“you’re infuriating” he finally conceded, the words forced out through gritted teeth.
“so i’ve been told” you beamed. “often. by many” you gestured to the bookshelf. “mind if i look?”
he simply stared. you being you, took that as permission, or at least a lack of active prohibition, and drifted towards the shelves.
your fingers traced the spines of books on ancient history, philosophy, and obscure mythology. he had surprisingly eclectic collection.
“plato?” you murmured, pulling out a thick volume. “a man of culture, i see”
he let out a sharp, exasperated breath. “just read it for a class”
“of course” you nodded, flipping through the pages. “nothing to do with genuine interest, just fulfilling a requirement. how very.. you”
you glanced at him over the top of the book. he hadn’t moved from the doorway, still watching you with that same unreadable intensity.
“you never lock the door, do you?” he didn’t answer. the silence was his reply.
“that’s why i keep showing up” you continued, lowering the book. “you say ‘go away’, but you never actually make me leave. you never lock the door. you never stop engaging”
you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “this. this is engaging”
his eyes narrow further. “it’s a waste of my time”
“is it?” you challenged, a spark of igniting in your own eyes. “because you’re still here, talking to me. you could have shut the door in my face. you could have called security. but you didn’t. you’re just.. standing there. letting me be here”
he pushed off the doorframe, finally moving, and walked past you, dropping the towel onto a chair. he pulled on a t shirt, his back to you.
the silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension. “don’t make assumptions” he clipped, his voice muffled by the fabric as he pulled it over his head.
“i’m not assuming” you corrected, watching him. “i’m observing. your words say one thing, but your actions say another. and i’m choosing to believe your actions”
he turned, fully dressed now, his expression a mask of cool indifference. “you’re delusional”
“perhaps” you conceded, a playful glint in your eye. “or perhaps i just see things others don’t” you walked towards his desk, picking up a pen.
“like how you leave your window open, even when it’s cold. or how you have exactly three plants, all of them thriving, even though you claim to hate anything that requires effort”
he snatched the pen from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. the brief contact sent a jolt through you. his expression remained impassive.
“get out” he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. you met his gaze, unflinching. “not yet”
a week later, you were in his room again. the pattern was set. he’d be there, sometimes studying, sometimes just staring out the window.
you’d knock, or sometimes, finding the door ajar, and you’d just walk in. he’d tell you to leave. you’d ignore him, or argue, or simply start talking about something entirely unrelated.
your friends though, found your persistence baffling.
“why do you even bother?” utahime asked, stirring her coffee in the campus cafe. “he’s a walking iceberg. you deserve someone who actually, you know.. wants you around”
“he tolerates me” you countered, swirling your own lukewarm tea. “that’s practically a love letter from sukuna”
“tolerates is not a good baseline for a relationship” nanami chimed in, adjusting his glasses.
“there are like, a hundred other guys on this campus who would actually be nice to you.. who would open doors, or remember your coffee order, or not tell you to go away every five minutes”
you just smiled, a private, knowing smile. “you don’t get it”
“no” utahime agreed, shaking her head. “we really don’t”
you didn’t expect them to. they saw the blunt words, the cold exterior. they didn’t see the way his eyes, sometimes, would track your movements when he thought you weren’t looking.
they didn’t hear the subtle shift in his tone when he was truly exasperated versus when he was merely performing his usual ‘go away’ routine.
they didn’t notice that he never actually followed through. he never called security. he never physically removed you. he just… complained.
and you, in your stubbornness, saw that as an invitation.
one rainy evening, you found sukuna hunched over his desk, a stack of engineering textbooks threatening to topple.
the room was dimly lit by a single desk lamp, casting long shadows. you knocked softly, but he didn't stir so you let yourself in.
“stuck on something?” you inquired, pulling up a chair opposite him.
he slammed his hand on the desk, startling you. “what do you want?” his voice sharp, and frayed.
“just checking in” you said, unfazed. “you look like you’re about to spontaneously combust”
he rubbed his temples, his eyes closed. “i have a mid term tomorrow. i don’t have time for this”
“then why aren’t you making me leave?” you pointed out gently. “you’re just sitting there, letting me distract you”
he opened his eyes, red flecks catching the lamplight. he stared at you, his breathing heavy. “because it’s less effort to just let you talk until you get bored and leave”
“is that what you think?” you asked, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “that i’ll get bored?”
he didn’t answer. he just leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a fraction.
you watched him, a quiet understanding passing between you. “what’s the problem?” you asked, gesturing to the textbook.
he hesitated, then gestured vaguely at a complex diagram. “the stress calculation for the load bearing beam. the variables aren’t aligning”
you leaned closer, peering at the page. you weren’t an engineering major, but you were quick witted. “did you account for the material fatigue coefficient?”
he paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the diagram again. he picked up his pen, making a quick calculation on a scrap of paper.
a moment later, his expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
“it’s negligible at this scale” he muttered, more to himself than to you.
“but not zero” you countered. “sometimes, the smallest details are the ones that throw everything off” he looked at you then, a long, searching gaze.
the usual irritation was still there, but beneath it, something else stirred. something akin to grudging respect.
“you’re still here” he stated, a simple observation.
“i know” you said, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “and you didn’t tell me to go away for a whole ten minutes. that’s a new record”
he didn’t smile. he just returned to his calculations, but this time, the tension had eased. you stayed, quietly observing him, the only sound the scratching of his pen and the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windowpane.
he never asked you to leave again that night.
you just.. were there.
the dynamic shifted subtly after that. the arguments became less frequent, the silences less strained. he still told you to leave, but the words carried less conviction, more of a rote delivery.
you’d find yourself spending hours in his room, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes debating obscure topics, sometimes just observing him as he worked.
sukuna never invited you, never acknowledged your presence as anything other than an inconvenience, yet he never truly shut you out
the door remained unlocked. his attention, however begrudging, remained yours.
one crisp autumn evening, you sat on his window seat, watching the leaves swirl outside. sukuna was on his bed, scrolling through something on his laptop.
the room was bathed in the soft glow of the desk lamp. “my friends think i’m crazy” you announced breaking the comfortable quiet.
he didn’t look up. “they’re probably right”
“they think i’m wasting my time” you continued, ignoring his barb. “that i should find someone.. easier”
he finally looked at you, his crimson eyes piercing. “and why don’t you?” you met his gaze, a challenge in your own.
“because ‘easier’ isn’t always ‘better’”
he closed his laptop with a snap, the sound echoing in the small. he swung his legs off the bed, facing you.
“what exactly do you want from this?” he asked, his voice low, devoid of its usual sharp edge. it was a genuine question, stripped bare of pretence.
you hesitated, the air suddenly thick with unspoken feelings. this was new. this was different. he wasn’t telling you to leave. he was asking for an explanation
“i want to understand you” you finally admitted, your voice softer than you intended. “and i want you to stop pretending you don’t want me around”
a muscle in his jaw flexed. he stood up, walking towards the window, his back to you. the silence stretched, heavy with anticipation.
“i don’t pretend anything” he finally stated, his voice tight. “i tell you to leave. every time”
“and i don’t” you countered, rising to your feet. you walked toward him, stopping a few feet away.
“and you never actually do anything to make me go. you leave your door unlocked.. you let me sit here. you engage, even when you say you don’t want to. your words are a performance, sukuna, i see through it”
he turned then, his eyes blazing. “you think you know me?”
“i think i know enough” you said, stepping closer, your hand reaching out, then hesitating. hovering between you.
“i know you push people away. i know you thrive on control. i know you’re afraid of anything that feels too close”
his gaze dropped to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. his breathing was shallow. “you’re wrong” he murmured, but the conviction was gone from his voice.
“am i?” you pressed, taking another step. your hand still hovering, now brushed his arm, a light, tentative touch. he didn’t flinch. he didn’t pull away.
“because every time you tell me to leave, and i don’t, you don’t actually hate it, do you? yeah you might be annoyed, you might be frustrated, but there’s a part of you that’s… relieved. that someone isn’t listening for once”
he closed his eyes for a brief moment, a fleeting vulnerability. when he opened them, the crimson depth were troubled.
“you’re relentless” he said, the words barely a whisper.
“is that a compliment?” you asked, your thumb tracing a small circle on his forearm. he let out a shaky breath. “it’s an observation”
the space between you crackled with an electricity that had been building for months. all the unspoken words, all the denied feelings, surged to the surface.
“so” you began, your voice trembling slightly.
this was it. the breaking point. the question that determines everything. you pulled your hand away, forcing yourself to meet his gaze directly.
“do you actually want me gone? really… tell me. and this time, if you say yes, i’ll leave and i won’t come back.”
the words hung in the air, heavy and absolute. the playful defiance was gone. the challenge had become earnest. his expression shifted, a whirlwind of something emotions passing across his face.
irritation, fear, something akin to longing. he searched your eyes, as if looking for a trick, a loophole. there was none, your resolve was clear.
his silence stretched, growing longer and longer, until the only sound was the frantic beating of your own heart.
the autumn wind rattled the windowpane, a mournful sigh. you held your breath, waiting for verdict.
he took a step back, then another, putting a small distance between you. his eyes, usually so unreadable, now held a raw vulnerability you’d never seen.
“i…” he started, his voice rough, then trailed off. he ran a hand through his hair, turning away from you, facing the wall. his shoulders were hunched, a rare display of uncertainty.
you waited. you had promised to leave if he said yes. and you would, but you needed him to say it. truly say it.
he remained silent, his back to you, for what felt like eternity. the air grew colder, the tension almost unbearable.
you felt a pang of something akin to despair, a quiet resignation. he couldn’t do it. he couldn’t admit he wanted you to stay, but he couldn’t bring himself to truly tell you to leave either.
the contradiction, the denial, had become too deeply ingrained.
finally, he turned. his face was a mask once more, but his eyes.. his eyes held a flicker of something new. a quiet acknowledgment.
“no” he breathed, the singe word barely audible. his gaze swept over your face, lingering on your lips, then your eyes. “i don’t want you gone”
the world seemed to tilt back into place. a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding escaped in a rush.
the tension, which had coiled so tightly, began to unravel, replaced by a profound, almost overwhelming relief.
you took a tentative step towards him. “what did you say?”
he met your gaze, his eyes now holding a different kind of intensity. “i said i don’t want you gone” he reached out, his hand slowly deliberately, cupping your cheek.
his thumb brushed your skin, a feather light touch that sent shivers down your spine. “you’re here. stay”
the contradiction hadn’t vanished entirely, not yet.
the words were still hard-won, extracted with effort. but for the first time, his actions and his words aligned.
and in that quiet, vulnerable admission, you saw not the end of a cycle, but the fragile, uncertain beginning of something entirely new. you leaned into his touch, a soft, genuine smile finally breaking through.
the room, once a battleground of wills, now felt like a sanctuary.
a/n .✦ ݁˖ i love sukuna so much ughhh! i need him in my veins. anywho see yall next time 🪐.
fanart — aliyartss, winterrbluess