synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, you’ve finally found the one for you. he’s handsome, hardworking, and keeps to himself— sukuna’s perfect. well, in your eyes, he was. you're sure his victims would say otherwise. you're not supposed to know about them, by the way.
your boyfriend still has no idea that you snooped through his belongings while he was at work. let's hope it stays that way.
cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, fluff, angst, more to be added
notes: 4k word again, barely proofread!! enjoy <3
m.list | part two | part three | part four
It’s been five days since you and Sukuna had gotten into a fight. In those five days, you have said a total of 13 words to him.
The first day, you completely ignored him. Understandable.
The second, he asked if you would like a cup of coffee. You said no.
On the third day, he asked if you wanted to go out to dinner. You told him to shut up.
Then there was yesterday, he didn’t have to approach you. You were walking past him in the living room, stopped, scanned him from head to toe a couple times, then said, “get a fucking haircut, you look like you have depression.”
He got a haircut— not because he had depression, but because he genuinely felt like something really bad was going to happen to him if he didn’t with the way you looked at him.
And today, you slept in. There was no way in hell he was going to wake you up, just to say goodbye, before he left for work. You probably would’ve smacked the shit out of him.
It’s only been five days. Yeah, he was starting to get a little impatient, but he hasn’t given up. He just hated the silence, and how stubborn you were, and how you chose the couch over the bed. You knew he’d go to bed feeling like a piece of shit because of it— it's just another punishment.
But again, it’s been five days. It was a normal amount of time to be mad at someone, especially given how bad he fucked up. He’s giving you your space, even though space was also something he really fucking hated.
Since he had to deal with it, he had to find some way to decompress.
Explains why he’s on his way back from the woods right now. Digging an 8 foot grave was a lot, even for him, but it helped. Jerry probably helped out a little more though. 5’10. 173 pounds. 49 years old. An alcoholic, with a long history of domestic abuse and sexual abuse charges. And he was a fighter.
No one was going to miss Jerry.
You know who would miss Sukuna though if disappeared?
You.
You’d feel so fucking bad. Probably get up in front of some mic, talking about how good of a person he was and how much you missed him, too. The guilt would eat away at you the entire time, because your last words to him would’ve been, “you look like you have fucking depression.”
You’d feel terrible.
He glances over at the flowers laying on the passenger seat of his car, and already knew you were going to reject them. It was going to have to be him to replace the flowers in your vase today. Then he checks his phone, seeing that he was right on time. You weren’t speaking to him, but that wasn’t going to stop you from questioning his whereabouts if he came home late.
—
You’ve already made plans for when you made up with him. Waiting for Sukuna to go to work was one of them, just so you could check that little polaroid stash of his. You wonder how many new photos have been added to his stack in the last five days.
You’re not exactly sure when it’ll happen though.
It’s ultimately up to you, but you really don’t want to initiate that. What you want is for him to start screaming, crying, and throwing up over how much he misses you, and of course he’s failing at that, because he’s a fucking man. All he’s done is to walk around the house with a sorry look on his face the entire time.
Not to mention his hair looked great the other day. You wanted him to fight you, not to immediately give in and get it cut.
You’re making dinner tonight for the first time since your little one-sided war started. You already know how it’s going to go when he gets home.
He’s going to glance at the pot of stew about a hundred times— thinking you won’t notice, because he thinks he’s slick. Then from across the room, in the most pathetic voice, he’ll ask, “can I have some?”
You’ll probably end up having to fight back snarky remark, like, “I made an entire pot of it, what do you think?”
You get about another hour of tranquility, before Sadness walks in with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The ones you had were starting to wilt. You really shouldn’t have looked at him when you did, it was right when he looked away from the pot to look at you, and he looked like he wanted to give you the damn flowers.
And of course they were prettier than normal.
“I can change the old flowers out,” he says, walking through the kitchen to find the vase.
Why can’t he just give you the flowers? He acts like you’re going to snatch them out of his hands and start beating him with them. You close your eyes and sigh, erasing the image of petals flying all around the room, while you continue to whack the stems against a certain individual from your mind.
You were just being mean at this point.
“I can do it,” you murmur, sounding as neutral as possible as you begin to walk up to him.
“You sure?” he ends up asking, shocked that you even responded to him. It wasn't rude either.
“Yeah.” You plucked them out of his hand, not at all meaning to do that. He was just lagging and not letting them go. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs back.
He doesn’t stay around for too long, but comes right back out after his shower to find you curled up on the couch, reading a book. You didn’t take your eyes off the page when he first came back. You didn’t do it once in the thirty minutes he spent loitering in the living room, trying to make himself look busy while periodically moving some random object around.
Eventually, the sound of random objects moving around in the background gets replaced by a throat being cleared, and thank god he only did it once, because you would’ve lost it. Instead, he finally spoke up. “What’d you make today?”
“Stew,” you say, holding yourself back from laughing because you were right. You let some silence between you two drag out before you speak up again, after realizing you really didn’t want him asking for permission to eat. “You can have some if you want.”
“Do you want a bowl?” he doesn’t hesitate to ask, as if he knew you were already going to tell him he could have some.
“No, I’m fine,” you hum, turning to the next page in your book. “I’m still full from earlier.”
“Alright,” he mumbles, walking back into the kitchen. You can hear the drawer open and spoons clanking against one another as he grabs one. Microwaved buttons being pushed, then beeping a couple minutes later letting him know his food was warm. His heavy footsteps grow louder as he walks past the dining room table to enter the living room again. “Is the T.V gonna distract you?”
“No,” you say with a tinge of regret, he already knew how easy it was for you to drown out noise. It comes in handy, especially when he’s watching some sports game you know nothing about. It makes you wonder how many serial killers tune in to watch the FIFA World Cop.
You currently know of one, and he’s sitting slightly off-center on the couch, closer to your side instead of the other, that was completely empty. You start to reevaluate just how problematic you are when you find yourself getting irritated at him for it— you were just mad about how cautious he’s been around you.
“What are you doing?” you start to complain the moment you feel his big arms scoop you up, and then he takes your seat while setting you down on his lap. “I was sitting here!”
“And now you’re sitting on my lap,” he says, still keeping his eyes on the game. “Go back to reading your book.”
“Can’t fuckin’ stand you sometimes,” you murmur under your breath, trying to find the page you were on, while he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back against his chest.
“Stop talking,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against the side of your head.
You let out an annoyed sigh, but didn't say anything else, figuring this was the closest thing you were going to get in terms of what you wanted out of him. You got your apology too, shortly after you put your book down and he noticed you staring at the screen. Three separate apologies actually— one for trying to say you were ungrateful, one for making fun of the $80, one for accusing you of wanting to cheat on him.
You really only cared about the last one. That one that actually struck a nerve, having him compare you to his last relationship and all. Which is silly, it was just his go-to sob story that he used to make his behavior seem more normal. It’s easier to forgive someone that got cheated on, rather than someone who just wanted to straight up control you. Sometimes you wonder if that ex-girlfriend is even real.
Real or not— you were not going to let him accuse you of being a person that was capable of cheating. You didn’t want to hear about her again, either.
And honestly, you doubt you ever will with Sukuna’s reaction to you not taking the job in the end.
He actually felt bad. Asked you when your first day was going to be and all, only for you to shrug and say you turned it down. When he asked you why?
“I mean… it’s not like you need random gifts,” you barely explained, all while you watched him experience the consequences of his own actions through his own guilt. “I guess you were right. I have the card, I can always just use it if you really need one, but I doubt it.”
It could’ve been worded differently, but the goal was to twist the knife… and shove it in a little further. You don’t even care about working at the flower shop anymore, honestly. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future, where he will have to pretend he’s happy for you.
You are satisfied.
Sukuna is not.
He eventually starts to get handsy with you. You’re able to ignore it for a while, but then he starts messing with the waistband of your shorts. Tracing his fingers around the stitching, pulling them back and letting go so it smacks against your skin. You flip your head around to look at him after the loudest one.
“What?” he smirks and does it again, ignoring the pout on your face, “I can’t play with your shorts anymore?”
“You’re waiting to stick your hands in them,” you mumble, squirming in his lap, trying not to think about the hard bulge pressed against your ass.
“Yeah, they’re cold,” he chuckles, kissing the back of your neck.
You let out a disappointed sigh, trying to not let him affect you as he continues to trail kisses along your shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re actually trying to have sex with me right now.”
“I’m trying to make it up to you,” he hums, giving your thigh a light squeeze. “I don’t have to fuck you for that.”
“You don’t deserve anything right now,” you let out a little laugh, feeling his other arm wrap around your waist a little tighter.
“You deserve something though,” his fingers start to trace around your waistband again. “C’mon, let me get these off you,” he murmurs, hooking a finger around them.
A small hum escapes you while he continues to kiss on the back of your neck. It’s not quite a yes, but he notices the way your thighs start to clench together and grins.
“Kuna..” You let out a breathy laugh while he pulls you up off his lap and has you lay down on the couch for him.
“You’re alright,” he purrs, pulling your shorts and panties off with a satisfied hum, tossing them off to the side somewhere. “Just let me eat your pussy for a little bit.”
The whole time, you're way too giddy for someone that still hated him an hour before, but you’re already forgetting about it the moment he’s pulling your thighs apart and putting his head in between them.
“Fuckin’ missed being here,” he murmurs, taking his time leaving a trail of kisses up your inner thighs. You’re already holding your breath from each wet smack his lips leave, the closer he gets the harder you find it to keep still.
Then he reaches your clit and slowly drags his tongue over it, pulling a soft moan out of you. “Bet you missed this too, huh?” He drags his tongue over it again, and again, watching the way your eyes start to glaze over with each harsh flick.
“Mhm— oh fuck,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to swipe his tongue over your sensitive clit. “feels so good.”
“Yeah, you like that?” he hums, spreading you open with his thumbs and pressing his tongue flat against your entrance, dragging a long stripe through your folds. “Can’t believe you almost didn’t want this.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a dick,” you murmur.
“I know,” he licks another long stripe before lapping at your clit again, “m’sorry, baby.”
He wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before you even get a chance to respond, groaning while he sucks and flicks his tongue over it. He’s not even in a rush right now and he’s already hearing all the pretty little sounds you make whenever he gets his mouth on you.
So he goes faster.
Pulling back with a lewd pop, he grabs on to the back of your thighs and pins them to your chest. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy, I swear,” he hums, then buries his face back into your cunt, like he was starving.
He’s dragging his tongue up and down your folds, making your moans grow higher in pitch until you're whining for him.
“Oh my god–” your nails start digging into his scalp and he just groans, “Sukuna— f-fuck–”
“Yeah— keep crying my name like that,” he rasps against you, dragging his tongue through your folds over and over again, making your hips jerk with each harsh flick. “Who else could get you like this? Hm?”
“No one,” you whine, feeling the grip on your thighs grow tighter. “Only— fuck— only you.”
“That’s right,” he grins against you, “fuckin’ love this pussy.” He gives you one last lick before latching onto your clit, making you nearly squeal from the way he starts to harshly suck on it.
“M’gonna cum,” your hips stutter and legs start to tremble under his hold, “you’re gonna make me cum.”
“Cum then,” he rasps in between the obscene slurping noises he’s making, “let go for me, baby.”
Your legs try to push back on the iron grip he has on them as pressure continues to build up, faster. “Oh my god— baby, please,” you begin to babble as he continues to work you with that tongue of his, until you’re gasping and crying out his name from the way the orgasm rips right through you.
You start gushing around him and he just groans into your pussy while drinking it up.
“Thaaat’s it,” he rasp, tongue still working you but coming to a slow. “Fuckin’ love how hard you cum for me.”
“That was so good,” you choke out, trying to catch your breath as he licks you through the come down.
“I know,” he murmurs in satisfaction, as smug as ever, giving your clit one last kiss before pulling back and admiring how much of a mess you look. “I’m just getting started, too.”
—
Car shops were gross.
There’s grease everywhere. The smell of smoke and gasoline clung to the walls. You could be flipping through a brand new manual and you’d still somehow get this weird dusty, black residue on the tips of your fingers. And when you go to wash it off, you’d end up having to wash your hands again because that same residue is stuck in the crevices of the faucet turner.
You can’t think of a time where you’ve visited and haven’t genuinely asked yourself, “why?”
Sukuna’s well aware of it and thinks it’s cute, which is why he still continues to bring you here. He doesn’t care for cute things. You’re pretty sure he likes seeing you with grease or dust stuck to you. He makes you answer the phone while you’re there too, and you’re almost certain he thinks of you as his receptionist that he fucks during his lunch breaks.
“Ryo-motive– how can I help you? Mhm. Oh– I’m so sorry to hear that! Here, let me check the schedule– see which dates we can get you taken care of.”
The customer on the other end hears you flipping through papers, then eventually hears a very frustrated sigh, as if you ran into an issue that’s been going on for way too long.
“It looks like we’re fully booked, I’m sorry. Ugh, trust me, I know. This sounds pretty urgent though. There’s another auto shop just two towns over that I’m pretty familiar with— yeah, mhm— yeah, highly recommend— absolutely, the name is Six-Eye’s Auto Service. Yeah, of course! Car troubles are the worst. The sooner you get it checked out, the better. Mhm. Aw yeah, you too! Haha, you take care now. Bye.”
There were plenty of openings for this week. She probably would’ve been able to come today, honestly. You made up for it by giving her a good recommendation though. That Six-Eyes guy should really cut you a check for all the business you’ve sent him.
Good thing Sukuna doesn’t pay you to answer the phones— you are one shitty receptionist. He’d probably kill you if he found out, but you try to convince yourself it’s for the best. You obviously can’t stop all customers from making advances towards him, but can you blame a girl for wanting to protect herself from that sight?
That is not something you want to see.
He wouldn’t want to see it either, because on the off chance that you saw a customer making a move on Sukuna, there was a 100% guarantee that you’d be going to jail right after.
You lay back in the creaky chair and let out a bored sigh. Tapping your fingers on the arm rests as you look around the small office, eyes eventually landing to the window looking into the open garage. Sukuna’s under some car, probably in his own little world as he worked on whatever problem it had.
It’s just him that works here. You don’t know how he does it all on his own, but he manages everything pretty well. He likes it that way too. Every day’s technically a slow day with how he works, taking his time, making sure he gets the job done right so his customers can justify the insane prices he charges. It’s actually quite peaceful for him.
It was about another hour until he decided to call it a day, knowing he’d be there for another few hours if he moved on to the next car. Locking the place up doesn’t take too long, all he really has to do is wipe off whatever tools he used and close the doors. Maybe take the trash out if it was full. Usually he’d check his voicemail, but forgets it since he put you to work today.
“I’m done,” he mutters, not really paying attention when he opens the door to the office and steps in, “you ready to g–”
You look up from your phone when his voice gets caught in his throat, and you wouldn’t say he looked nervous or anything, but his brain was definitely going into overdrive as he looked right past your head.
You ignored it.
“Hm? Yeah, I’m starting to get hungry, too,” you say, pushing yourself off the chair and throwing your purse over your shoulder.
“Yeah.. me too,” he sounds more distant when he responds, eyes tracing back to you as you start walking up to him.
“You look so tired, baby,” you soothe, placing your hands on his chest and giving him a kiss, softly humming into it. “Got everything locked up?”
“Mhm,” he still looks distracted, but still wraps an arm around your waist, leading you out of the office.
There’s a light trembling in his hand as he locks the door to the office shut, but you pretend not to notice it. “Wanna just go to that diner by the house?” you ask, not really in the mood to cook tonight. He didn’t look like he wanted to wait either.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” he murmurs, walking back to the car with you following suit.
He’s quiet for those first couple minutes, grinding his jaw as he tries to focus on the road, but eventually realized you’d start questioning him if he didn’t say anything soon.
“Hey, uh– I forgot to ask,” Sukuna briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at you, trying to be very careful with his wording. “Did you see a rag in the office? I used it to wipe a bunch of gunk off this guys engine this morning and I can’t find it— been worried about it fuckin’ up one of the shelves.”
You look dumbfounded by the question, grimacing before coming up with a smart ass response. “You mean the ones you throw in the corner?”
“No, I checked. Didn’t toss it in there.”
“Hm. I mean, maybe,” you say casually.
“Maybe?” the grip he has on the steering wheel tightens as he forces out a sigh. Why the hell would you say that? “You either saw it or you didn’t.”
“I don’t really don’t know— probably,” you shrug before going back on your phone, “There’s dirty rags all over the shop. I don’t pay attention.”
“We’re talking about my office right now though. Not the shop,” he tries to explain, doing a bad job at hiding the growing frustration in his voice. “I’m really not trying to fuck up the furniture right now. Everything’s on its last leg.”
“And I’m saying, I don’t know,” you say it slowly for him, annoyed that he’s even asking about towels in the first place— it’s not like you work there. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve tried to find it for you so we wouldn’t be spending the car ride back playing I Spy from memory.”
He lets out a sigh and leans back in his seat, shifting the gears. You’re on your phone, and you clearly do not care about anything in that office, so he doesn’t hold his breath waiting for you to say or do anything out of the ordinary.
“M’sorry,” he reaches out and places a hand on your thigh, “I should’ve dealt with that right after the guy left.”
“I know,” you boredly say, still on your phone, “Should’ve dealt with that furniture years ago, too. That stupid desk is gonna randomly crumble away one day, it’s so old.”
“Yeah?” he snorts, giving you a light squeeze, “Will that make you stop talking so much shit about it?”
“Maybe. It’s so depressing in there.”
“Mmm— I’ll sprinkle some holy water in there for you.”
“Bring in a priest to bless it at this point,” you laugh with him, despite being dead serious.
The whole place needs spiritual cleaning of some sorts.
You know exactly which rag he was asking you about. It was you who put it up on the shelf behind you for him to see, after all.
Who knew how many more bloody rags were in that shop.
pink gauze ! ˚˖ 𓍢ִ໋ ˚ — 002. sunshine / i was never there
masterlist ༘ ⋆₊ ⊹
pairing: sorority girl-tutor!reader + young dad-boxer!toji (college au)
chapter summary: the new student you've been tutoring, toji, makes an appearance at your sorority's carwash fundraiser! then, you track him down to discuss rescheduling a tutoring session.. ending up at a sketchy boxing ring?
wc: 2.5k
synopsis ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ — despite the stereotypes, sorority girls aren’t always ditzy and ‘dumb.’ you were a prime example, considering you were openly a tutor for classmates in your chem class. your newest student is the mysterious toji fushiguro. you’ve never seen him at parties yet he’s still doing poorly in class.. where did all his time go?
toji fushiguro didn’t have time for class as a single dad with the one priority of providing for his toddler, megumi, in mind. a lack of money forced him into the dangerous and time consuming world of underground boxing, bills and tuition needed to be paid somehow. on the brink of getting even more behind in his classes, he’s left with no choice but to add tutoring sessions to his packed schedule.
the week had been tightly packed with classes everyday, tutoring sessions, and prepping for a widely anticipated chi omega and sigma chi collab.
the event was going to be a fundraiser that would include friendly competition as well as build some attention to entice other students to join. or at least entice them to come stare with drool-filled mouths and money filled hands. the frat president gojo had been planning it with you, vice president of your own, for the past couple of weeks since your president was somewhere abroad.
nothing screamed summer and greek life like a student carwash featuring sorority girls in bikinis and shirtless frat boys.
you had canceled today’s tutoring session with your newest student, toji fushiguro, since this was an important event for you to manage. he hadn’t even waited for you to explain and just nodded wordlessly before getting up to leave. it almost seemed like there was a sense of relief swimming in his dark eyes.
upon trying to reschedule, he had made it very very difficult. like annoyingly difficult.
any suggestion you made about a different time to meet up was quickly shut down even though you knew he needed your help to study for the upcoming chem test. you’d given up.. at least for the moment. the fundraiser had your attention for now but later, you’d decided you would investigate and find out where to find him.
at this point, ambushing him seemed easier than having an open conversation about his availability.
you and the other girls were standing on the grass border of greek row. shirtless frat guys were setting up buckets of water and foamy soap. it was a nice view, you couldn’t lie. but the view of you and your sisters in small bikini tops and short skirts was better than nice.
the sun was beating down on you, glazing your tan skin with a thin layer of sweat. you fanned yourself with a manicured hand. god, the sun was meant for laying out to tan not doing physical labor. stay away from fundraisers involving the hot sun in the future, you mentally noted. once the buckets were all set up, it was time to wait for cars to arrive.
when the first poor person showed up, there were shouts overlapping from all over. sorority girls with flirty smiles leaned down toward the driver’s seat window while trying to convince them to choose omega chi for their donation. obnoxiously loud frat guys tried to sway the donor’s vote by shouting over opposing arguments.
you guys eventually won over the first customer. with a grin, you grabbed a sponge that dripped with soap to get to work.
“losers!” shoko yelled out, earning a middle finger in response from a pink-haired frat boy. the fundraiser continued in the same manner, donations coming in for both parties as expected.
after an hour or so, you were definitely spent and ready to take a break. the already tight white bikini top you wore stuck to your damp skin. you brushed back a loose strand of hair from your ponytail after dropping your sponge into the bucket with a soft splash!
gojo’s loud yelling farther down the street piqued your interest. a familiar beefy man was getting cut off in his path by the overly loud frat president. toji stared at gojo with narrowed unimpressed eyes, paper bags snug in the crooks of his muscled arms. he seemed to have come from the campus’ grocery store.
gojo was waving his hand around animatedly, clearly begging for a donation. “c’mon dude! friends donate to their friend’s frats. It’s bro code.”
you grinned a little and sauntered over. you bet you could win him over instead. maybe you could also bring up that rescheduling. walking up beside gojo, you nudged his side with an elbow before offering toji that sweet smile of yours. “hii toji!”
he was in the middle of scolding the white haired man next to you, “im not fucking donating to you, move--”
his gaze slid over to you and you noticed his lips part ever so slightly at the sight of you. all sweat-slicked skin and dazzling smiles.
“don’t give him any money toji. you should donate to me instead.” you said, tilting your head to the side.
he looked down at you with a cocked brow while gojo huffed beside you. it wasn’t his fault he didn’t have the advantage of being a pretty girl.
toji rolled his eyes but there was a flicker of interest in his features. “I’m not donating to any of you, I’m not even getting a carwash out of it.”
your lips pulled together in a glossy pout and you gave him your best puppy eyes. “please? it’ll be so so worth it!” you promised, sugar coating each word.
he gave a sigh as his gaze fell onto your pout. then he was reaching into the pocket of his battered black cargos. a crumpled one dollar bill was pulled out and dropped it into your outstretched hand.
“there, now move.” he said gruffly.
you grinned triumphantly while gojo’s mouth fell open in pure shock and betrayal.
“thanks toji! you’re the best.” you said cheekily and moved aside, giddy over the fact that gojo’s ego had formed a fresh bruise from the interaction.
toji was grumbling something under his breath about ‘stupid college scams’ and was gone quickly. dang it, you forgot to mention rescheduling a study sesh.
by the time the fundraiser was at it’s end, the sun was already way low beneath the horizon. soapy water and sweat had your skin all sticky and gross. you were desperately in need of a shower. as the frat guys cleaned up, you spotted gojo who was standing around doing nothing but sipping on cheap beer.
a perfect opportunity to question about his friend’s whereabouts. when you approached, he perked up and turned towards you.
“can’t believe toji betrayed me for you.” he huffed dramatically.
you gave a nonchalant shrug before smiling. “It’s my charm. but anyway, speaking of toji. I wanted to ask you something.” you started.
gojo’s eyes lit up with interest, the beer in his hand momentarily forgotten. “what’s up?”
you crossed your arms loosely to fight off the evening breeze. “do you know where he could be right now? I needed to talk to him about this test but he like didn’t even give me the chance to earlier in class.”
he took a swig of beer and thought to himself for a moment. “mm, might have an idea. I’ll text you his location.”
you gave a nod after thanking him sweetly and walked off towards the omega chi house.
⊹ ݁ ˖ ࣭ ೃ ࣪ ˖
after taking a body shower to rinse off any traces of the carwash, you changed into something more casual and were out the door. the location gojo had sent you was someplace unfamiliar and a little far from university. you’d put in the directions and blindly followed them. only once you got closer to the apparent location did you start feeling a sliver of doubt. was gojo messing with you?
your maps narrator informed you that the destination was on the right but on the right was a beat down building that looked like some type of warehouse. you contemplated even going in. suddenly the urgency of the chem test seemed stupid and not worth your life. but.. you were also crazy curious. if gojo was messing with you, he’d be dealt with later.
double checking your purse, you made sure your pink taser was tucked between the rest of your items. when you approached the building, you were sure you could hear muffled talking on the other side. unless you imagined it. the doorknob looked rusty and like it reeked of tetanus but you already had gotten this far. might as well take a peek.
you took a tissue from your purse and wrapped it around the rusted gold before pulling it open. the commotion that was once muffled increased in volume immediately.
your eyebrows scrunched together as you scanned the interior of the building. the thing that caught your attention first was the huge boxing ring taking up residency in the center of it. men of different ages hung around the ropes while some others were in corners, talking and seemingly training?
you stood in the doorway, still utterly confused.
the girly outfit you wore contrasted the dank room that was overflowing with way too much testosterone. the smell of cigarette smoke was caked into the walls that you were sure harbored all kinds of mold.
an older kind of creepy looking guy glanced towards the door and spotted you, whistling low. his eyes trailed down the length of you. you tried to ignore how it lingered on your exposed legs.
“mmm, what do we have here?” he asked, loud enough to catch the attention of others nearby. the idea of booking it and running out of there reached the forefront of your mind. with one hand on your purse, you began stepping back until a familiar pair of dark eyes met yours from across the room.
toji.
so, he really was here.
you gave a nervous laugh to the man who lingered by. “oh hi, was just looking for someone.” you said, gaze shifting from him and back to toji. he was standing across from another older man, maybe in his thirties, who was holding up paddles.
toji himself looked completely different in this setting. his usual baggy hoodie was replaced with nothing to cover his torso that was well.. extremely built to say the least. the tan skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed with his movements.
the creepy guy brought your attention back to him by clearing his throat. “looking for who exactly?”
you tucked a strand of your hair back. in the corner of your eye, you could make out toji’s now blurred figure moving closer towards you.
“toji fushiguro. a friend told me he might be here.” you explained, straightening while you kept your hand on your purse, just in case.
the guy’s eyes lit up and his lips pulled into a wide cheshire-cat grin. totally creepy. “ah fushiguro, one of our best! didn’t know he had such a pretty doll at home.”
your face scrunched up in not-so-subtle disgust and you side-stepped further away from the man. toji seemed to have been walking pretty fast, considering he was already in front of you.
you weren’t expecting a warm smile but you weren't exactly expecting the expression on his face he had now either. his eyebrows had a furrow in them and his jaw was clenched hard, like he was.. angry?
abruptly, his gauze-wrapped hand grasped onto yours and he was quickly leading you out. the door shut with a loud click. he walked you to the driver’s seat of your car before finally letting go.
“what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, staring down at you as if you were the crazy one. totally not the case.
you shrugged and loosely crossed your arms, gold bangles jangling in the process. “relax, silly. I wanted to reschedule our chem test study sesh and I had no choice but to track you down so I asked gojo!”
that same angry look took over his features again. he looked to the side with an exasperated sigh. “i’m gonna kill that idiot.” he grumbled under his breath before meeting your eyes again. “you need to go. It’s not a place for.. people like you.” pretty girls he thought.
you rolled your eyes. “It’s fine like really. If you wanna keep up your secret boxing practice or whatever, we can go inside and talk about this.”
he shook his head quickly and large hands came up to grasp onto your shoulders. his fingers squeezed you, as if he was holding back from physically shaking sense into you. “please go home. It’s not safe here, I’ll text you later.”
you sighed and tried not to think of the warmth seeping through his bandaged hands.
“If it’s not safe than why are you here?” you shot back, tilting your head to the side.
he gave another squeeze before letting go. “that’s none of your business.” he said simply, the sliver of emotion from earlier gone.
“go home and don’t come back here. I’ll text you, I’m not rescheduling anything here.” his voice carried a sense of finality.
you wanted to argue but there was no use. it was like there were really solid walls built around him or something. and they were easily keeping you out.
“fine, whatever. don’t get murdered or something.” you mumbled and turned to sit in your car.
his eyes tracked the pink interior briefly before he was looking elsewhere. toji stood outside until he was sure you were gone before heading back in.
he ignored the whistles and obnoxious praises he received as he walked to his trainers. their heads were empty minus everlasting thoughts about sex and money. in this building, good morals were nearly nonexistent.
he knew the men who paid him to fight were anything but angels, wasn’t exactly proud of it either. but that's just how it was, necessity was necessity. regardless, toji decided he would rather die before letting anyone into the world that was draining him little by little. especially like his son and.. innocent girls who seemed to care about things too much.
⊹ ݁ ˖ ࣭ ೃ ࣪ ˖
when he entered into his apartment, late at night and drained, only one thing got him to keep walking.
he went to his cramped bedroom like usual to find megumi. the babysitter he had bargained with in order to pay a cheaper price sat on the bed beside the sleeping toddler.
his entrance caught her attention, making her stand. she gave a brief review of the day that toji barely listened to before she was gone.
toji took up the spot beside megumi with a tired sigh. the innocence etched into his soft features was the flicker of hope toji needed. desperately.
even though he was asleep, he couldn’t help but scooping him up and laying him on his broad chest instead of the shitty mattress. megumi stirred and sleepily opened his eyes, a smile morphing his chubby face immediately.
he always reacted that way on days when he barely got to see his dad.
toji lifted his head, exhaustion making it difficult. his lips pressed to his son’s forehead which earned him a incoherent babble in response. “missed me, huh?” toji murmured, soft and teasing.
megumi smushed his cheek against toji’s chest, still sleepy and already seconds away from falling back asleep. toji gave his small back a few gentle rubs to soothe him back into his slumber, a faint tired smile on his face.
“missed you too, gumi.” he whispered before drifting off as well, one large hand securing megumi to him.
the bed buzzed for a quick second, a text lighting up the forgotten phone beside him.
pink gauze ! ˚˖ 𓍢ִ໋ ˚ — 002. sunshine / i was never there
masterlist ༘ ⋆₊ ⊹
pairing: sorority girl-tutor!reader + young dad-boxer!toji (college au)
chapter summary: the new student you've been tutoring, toji, makes an appearance at your sorority's carwash fundraiser! then, you track him down to discuss rescheduling a tutoring session.. ending up at a sketchy boxing ring?
wc: 2.5k
synopsis ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ — despite the stereotypes, sorority girls aren’t always ditzy and ‘dumb.’ you were a prime example, considering you were openly a tutor for classmates in your chem class. your newest student is the mysterious toji fushiguro. you’ve never seen him at parties yet he’s still doing poorly in class.. where did all his time go?
toji fushiguro didn’t have time for class as a single dad with the one priority of providing for his toddler, megumi, in mind. a lack of money forced him into the dangerous and time consuming world of underground boxing, bills and tuition needed to be paid somehow. on the brink of getting even more behind in his classes, he’s left with no choice but to add tutoring sessions to his packed schedule.
the week had been tightly packed with classes everyday, tutoring sessions, and prepping for a widely anticipated chi omega and sigma chi collab.
the event was going to be a fundraiser that would include friendly competition as well as build some attention to entice other students to join. or at least entice them to come stare with drool-filled mouths and money filled hands. the frat president gojo had been planning it with you, vice president of your own, for the past couple of weeks since your president was somewhere abroad.
nothing screamed summer and greek life like a student carwash featuring sorority girls in bikinis and shirtless frat boys.
you had canceled today’s tutoring session with your newest student, toji fushiguro, since this was an important event for you to manage. he hadn’t even waited for you to explain and just nodded wordlessly before getting up to leave. it almost seemed like there was a sense of relief swimming in his dark eyes.
upon trying to reschedule, he had made it very very difficult. like annoyingly difficult.
any suggestion you made about a different time to meet up was quickly shut down even though you knew he needed your help to study for the upcoming chem test. you’d given up.. at least for the moment. the fundraiser had your attention for now but later, you’d decided you would investigate and find out where to find him.
at this point, ambushing him seemed easier than having an open conversation about his availability.
you and the other girls were standing on the grass border of greek row. shirtless frat guys were setting up buckets of water and foamy soap. it was a nice view, you couldn’t lie. but the view of you and your sisters in small bikini tops and short skirts was better than nice.
the sun was beating down on you, glazing your tan skin with a thin layer of sweat. you fanned yourself with a manicured hand. god, the sun was meant for laying out to tan not doing physical labor. stay away from fundraisers involving the hot sun in the future, you mentally noted. once the buckets were all set up, it was time to wait for cars to arrive.
when the first poor person showed up, there were shouts overlapping from all over. sorority girls with flirty smiles leaned down toward the driver’s seat window while trying to convince them to choose omega chi for their donation. obnoxiously loud frat guys tried to sway the donor’s vote by shouting over opposing arguments.
you guys eventually won over the first customer. with a grin, you grabbed a sponge that dripped with soap to get to work.
“losers!” shoko yelled out, earning a middle finger in response from a pink-haired frat boy. the fundraiser continued in the same manner, donations coming in for both parties as expected.
after an hour or so, you were definitely spent and ready to take a break. the already tight white bikini top you wore stuck to your damp skin. you brushed back a loose strand of hair from your ponytail after dropping your sponge into the bucket with a soft splash!
gojo’s loud yelling farther down the street piqued your interest. a familiar beefy man was getting cut off in his path by the overly loud frat president. toji stared at gojo with narrowed unimpressed eyes, paper bags snug in the crooks of his muscled arms. he seemed to have come from the campus’ grocery store.
gojo was waving his hand around animatedly, clearly begging for a donation. “c’mon dude! friends donate to their friend’s frats. It’s bro code.”
you grinned a little and sauntered over. you bet you could win him over instead. maybe you could also bring up that rescheduling. walking up beside gojo, you nudged his side with an elbow before offering toji that sweet smile of yours. “hii toji!”
he was in the middle of scolding the white haired man next to you, “im not fucking donating to you, move--”
his gaze slid over to you and you noticed his lips part ever so slightly at the sight of you. all sweat-slicked skin and dazzling smiles.
“don’t give him any money toji. you should donate to me instead.” you said, tilting your head to the side.
he looked down at you with a cocked brow while gojo huffed beside you. it wasn’t his fault he didn’t have the advantage of being a pretty girl.
toji rolled his eyes but there was a flicker of interest in his features. “I’m not donating to any of you, I’m not even getting a carwash out of it.”
your lips pulled together in a glossy pout and you gave him your best puppy eyes. “please? it’ll be so so worth it!” you promised, sugar coating each word.
he gave a sigh as his gaze fell onto your pout. then he was reaching into the pocket of his battered black cargos. a crumpled one dollar bill was pulled out and dropped it into your outstretched hand.
“there, now move.” he said gruffly.
you grinned triumphantly while gojo’s mouth fell open in pure shock and betrayal.
“thanks toji! you’re the best.” you said cheekily and moved aside, giddy over the fact that gojo’s ego had formed a fresh bruise from the interaction.
toji was grumbling something under his breath about ‘stupid college scams’ and was gone quickly. dang it, you forgot to mention rescheduling a study sesh.
by the time the fundraiser was at it’s end, the sun was already way low beneath the horizon. soapy water and sweat had your skin all sticky and gross. you were desperately in need of a shower. as the frat guys cleaned up, you spotted gojo who was standing around doing nothing but sipping on cheap beer.
a perfect opportunity to question about his friend’s whereabouts. when you approached, he perked up and turned towards you.
“can’t believe toji betrayed me for you.” he huffed dramatically.
you gave a nonchalant shrug before smiling. “It’s my charm. but anyway, speaking of toji. I wanted to ask you something.” you started.
gojo’s eyes lit up with interest, the beer in his hand momentarily forgotten. “what’s up?”
you crossed your arms loosely to fight off the evening breeze. “do you know where he could be right now? I needed to talk to him about this test but he like didn’t even give me the chance to earlier in class.”
he took a swig of beer and thought to himself for a moment. “mm, might have an idea. I’ll text you his location.”
you gave a nod after thanking him sweetly and walked off towards the omega chi house.
⊹ ݁ ˖ ࣭ ೃ ࣪ ˖
after taking a body shower to rinse off any traces of the carwash, you changed into something more casual and were out the door. the location gojo had sent you was someplace unfamiliar and a little far from university. you’d put in the directions and blindly followed them. only once you got closer to the apparent location did you start feeling a sliver of doubt. was gojo messing with you?
your maps narrator informed you that the destination was on the right but on the right was a beat down building that looked like some type of warehouse. you contemplated even going in. suddenly the urgency of the chem test seemed stupid and not worth your life. but.. you were also crazy curious. if gojo was messing with you, he’d be dealt with later.
double checking your purse, you made sure your pink taser was tucked between the rest of your items. when you approached the building, you were sure you could hear muffled talking on the other side. unless you imagined it. the doorknob looked rusty and like it reeked of tetanus but you already had gotten this far. might as well take a peek.
you took a tissue from your purse and wrapped it around the rusted gold before pulling it open. the commotion that was once muffled increased in volume immediately.
your eyebrows scrunched together as you scanned the interior of the building. the thing that caught your attention first was the huge boxing ring taking up residency in the center of it. men of different ages hung around the ropes while some others were in corners, talking and seemingly training?
you stood in the doorway, still utterly confused.
the girly outfit you wore contrasted the dank room that was overflowing with way too much testosterone. the smell of cigarette smoke was caked into the walls that you were sure harbored all kinds of mold.
an older kind of creepy looking guy glanced towards the door and spotted you, whistling low. his eyes trailed down the length of you. you tried to ignore how it lingered on your exposed legs.
“mmm, what do we have here?” he asked, loud enough to catch the attention of others nearby. the idea of booking it and running out of there reached the forefront of your mind. with one hand on your purse, you began stepping back until a familiar pair of dark eyes met yours from across the room.
toji.
so, he really was here.
you gave a nervous laugh to the man who lingered by. “oh hi, was just looking for someone.” you said, gaze shifting from him and back to toji. he was standing across from another older man, maybe in his thirties, who was holding up paddles.
toji himself looked completely different in this setting. his usual baggy hoodie was replaced with nothing to cover his torso that was well.. extremely built to say the least. the tan skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed with his movements.
the creepy guy brought your attention back to him by clearing his throat. “looking for who exactly?”
you tucked a strand of your hair back. in the corner of your eye, you could make out toji’s now blurred figure moving closer towards you.
“toji fushiguro. a friend told me he might be here.” you explained, straightening while you kept your hand on your purse, just in case.
the guy’s eyes lit up and his lips pulled into a wide cheshire-cat grin. totally creepy. “ah fushiguro, one of our best! didn’t know he had such a pretty doll at home.”
your face scrunched up in not-so-subtle disgust and you side-stepped further away from the man. toji seemed to have been walking pretty fast, considering he was already in front of you.
you weren’t expecting a warm smile but you weren't exactly expecting the expression on his face he had now either. his eyebrows had a furrow in them and his jaw was clenched hard, like he was.. angry?
abruptly, his gauze-wrapped hand grasped onto yours and he was quickly leading you out. the door shut with a loud click. he walked you to the driver’s seat of your car before finally letting go.
“what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, staring down at you as if you were the crazy one. totally not the case.
you shrugged and loosely crossed your arms, gold bangles jangling in the process. “relax, silly. I wanted to reschedule our chem test study sesh and I had no choice but to track you down so I asked gojo!”
that same angry look took over his features again. he looked to the side with an exasperated sigh. “i’m gonna kill that idiot.” he grumbled under his breath before meeting your eyes again. “you need to go. It’s not a place for.. people like you.” pretty girls he thought.
you rolled your eyes. “It’s fine like really. If you wanna keep up your secret boxing practice or whatever, we can go inside and talk about this.”
he shook his head quickly and large hands came up to grasp onto your shoulders. his fingers squeezed you, as if he was holding back from physically shaking sense into you. “please go home. It’s not safe here, I’ll text you later.”
you sighed and tried not to think of the warmth seeping through his bandaged hands.
“If it’s not safe than why are you here?” you shot back, tilting your head to the side.
he gave another squeeze before letting go. “that’s none of your business.” he said simply, the sliver of emotion from earlier gone.
“go home and don’t come back here. I’ll text you, I’m not rescheduling anything here.” his voice carried a sense of finality.
you wanted to argue but there was no use. it was like there were really solid walls built around him or something. and they were easily keeping you out.
“fine, whatever. don’t get murdered or something.” you mumbled and turned to sit in your car.
his eyes tracked the pink interior briefly before he was looking elsewhere. toji stood outside until he was sure you were gone before heading back in.
he ignored the whistles and obnoxious praises he received as he walked to his trainers. their heads were empty minus everlasting thoughts about sex and money. in this building, good morals were nearly nonexistent.
he knew the men who paid him to fight were anything but angels, wasn’t exactly proud of it either. but that's just how it was, necessity was necessity. regardless, toji decided he would rather die before letting anyone into the world that was draining him little by little. especially like his son and.. innocent girls who seemed to care about things too much.
⊹ ݁ ˖ ࣭ ೃ ࣪ ˖
when he entered into his apartment, late at night and drained, only one thing got him to keep walking.
he went to his cramped bedroom like usual to find megumi. the babysitter he had bargained with in order to pay a cheaper price sat on the bed beside the sleeping toddler.
his entrance caught her attention, making her stand. she gave a brief review of the day that toji barely listened to before she was gone.
toji took up the spot beside megumi with a tired sigh. the innocence etched into his soft features was the flicker of hope toji needed. desperately.
even though he was asleep, he couldn’t help but scooping him up and laying him on his broad chest instead of the shitty mattress. megumi stirred and sleepily opened his eyes, a smile morphing his chubby face immediately.
he always reacted that way on days when he barely got to see his dad.
toji lifted his head, exhaustion making it difficult. his lips pressed to his son’s forehead which earned him a incoherent babble in response. “missed me, huh?” toji murmured, soft and teasing.
megumi smushed his cheek against toji’s chest, still sleepy and already seconds away from falling back asleep. toji gave his small back a few gentle rubs to soothe him back into his slumber, a faint tired smile on his face.
“missed you too, gumi.” he whispered before drifting off as well, one large hand securing megumi to him.
the bed buzzed for a quick second, a text lighting up the forgotten phone beside him.
summary: Walking around the school hallway you heard someone calling for you, but this voice is different from the usual annoying one
⋆˚࿔| jjk!masterlist — <<previous chapter - next chapter>>
The fluorescent lights of the high school hallway buzzed softly overhead, casting a pale glow across the polished floor. Their quiet hum blended with the muffled echoes of basketballs bouncing and students shouting in the gymnasium after practice. Most of the school had already emptied out, leaving the corridors strangely peaceful.
You preferred it that way, the fewer people around, the better.
Adjusting the heavy stack of textbooks against your chest, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor as you hurried toward the front entrance. Every step was careful, almost rehearsed. You just wanted to make it home without anyone stopping you.
You were almost there.
“Hey.”
A voice called from behind you, different from the usual low and strong one that used to pester you this days
Maybe if you ignored it…Maybe if you picked up your pace.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.”
Before you could reach the exit, someone stepped directly into your path, your shoes squeaked against the floor as you stopped yourself from walking straight into him.
Looking up, you recognized one of the varsity basketball players. He was tall enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes, his letterman jacket hanging lazily over one shoulder. His smile was confident—too confident—as he leaned casually against the lockers, completely blocking the hallway.
“There you are,” he said with a grin. “You always disappear after class.”
“I… I have somewhere to be.”
“So do I.” He shrugged, as though it were obvious. “With you.”
You blinked. “W-What?”
He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “C’mon. My friends are outside. We’re grabbing food.”
He tilted his head toward the doors.
“Come with us.”
“I… can’t.” You try to look for a way out, just wanting to disappear
“Why not? You’re too pretty to be left alone”
“I need to study.”
“You study every day.”
You stayed silent. Praying that he will eventually go away.
“You can’t seriously spend your whole life buried in books cutie, you’ll get headaches”
“I-I’m sorry.”
His smile faltered, replaced by mild annoyance.
“You keep apologizing.” He crossed his arms. “How about you stop saying sorry and actually come?”
“I really need to go home.”
He sighed dramatically. “You know, everyone says you’re impossible to talk to.”
“I… I don’t mean to be.”
“Then prove it.” He stepped closer.
Instinctively, you stepped back.
Then again closer, too close. Your back lightly tapped against the lockers behind you.
“There.” His grin widened. “Now you’re listening. You’re even cuter now”
Your fingers tightened around your books until the corners dug into your palms.
“I-I really don’t want to—”
“Come on cutie five minutes.” He leans closer “You didn’t really mean no.”
“I just…” Your voice became almost inaudible. “…want to leave.”
Instead of moving aside, he planted one hand against the lockers beside your head, cutting off the only clear path around him.
“C’mon.” His grin stretched wider. “Don’t make this difficult.”
Your heart began pounding. The hallway suddenly felt much smaller.
Your eyes darted toward the empty corridor behind him. There wasn’t anyone else around.
“You’re acting like I’m gonna kidnap you.”
“I just want to go.”
“You’ll survive five minutes. Come on” He caressed your hand
“I don’t want five minutes.”
“Seriously?” He rolled his eyes dramatically. For only a second, the smile disappeared from his face.
“I don’t think you understand.” His expression hardened.
“It wasn’t really a request.” He leaned even closer.
A voice cut cleanly through the silence. Low and Strong
“Take another step.” The hallway seemed to freeze. “I dare you.”
Both of you turned.
Leaning against the doorway of an empty classroom stood Sukuna, one shoulder rested lazily against the frame, arms folded across his chest as though he’d been standing there for quite some time. None of them looked amused.
He slowly pushed himself away from the doorway.
“…Who the hell are you?” the varsity player asked.
Sukuna ignored him.
Instead, his eyes settled on the arm trapping you against the lockers. His gaze lingered.
Then slowly lifted back to the boy’s face. “Move it.”
The guy frowned. “We’re just talking.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Silence.
“I gave you an order.” The athlete laughed nervously.
“Relax, man.” He gestured toward you. “She’s fine.”
Sukuna smiled, it wasn’t reassuring.If anything, it was worse.
“Is she?” His lower pair of eyes shifted toward you for the briefest moment. “Y/N.”
His voice remained calm. “Were you trying to leave?”
You hesitated before giving a small nod. “…Yes.”
“Were you clear about that?”
“…Yes.”
His attention immediately returned to the other boy. “There. Thats all i needed”
He spread his hands ever so slightly. “Now there’s no misunderstanding.”
The varsity student scoffed. “Who made you her bodyguard?”
“No one.”
“Then mind your own business.”
A low chuckle escaped Sukuna. “My business became the second you cornered something that’s under my protection.”
Your eyes widened. Under his protection? Since when??
The words settled strangely in your chest. Making you blush slightly
The guy frowned.
“Under your—” He never finished.
One moment Sukuna was several feet away.
The next— He was standing directly in front of him.
Neither of you had seen him move.
“W-What the—”
Sukuna looked down at him with unmistakable contempt.
“You’ve got nerve.”
His voice dropped into something dangerously quiet. “You ignored her answer.”
“I was just trying to ask her out.”
Sukuna tilted his head. “No.”
“You were trying to pressure her after she rejected you.”
“I—”
“You blocked her path.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You trapped her.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You made her uncomfortable.”
Each sentence landed heavier than the last. Calm. Measured. Merciless.
“You know what’s funny?” Sukuna leaned down slightly.
“I’ve been standing here for almost two minutes.” He looks dead in the guy’s eyes“I watched the whole thing.”
A grin slowly spread across Sukuna’s face. His four crimson eyes narrowed.
“You exceeded my expectations.”
The athlete immediately lifted both hands. “Look, man, I said I’m sorry.”
“You said nothing to her.” Sukuna stepped forward. “You apologized because I showed up.”
The other boy stumbled backward.
“You weren’t sorry.” Another step. “You were comfortable.”
Another.
“Until someone stronger arrived.”
The color completely drained from the athlete’s face. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to—”
“I don’t care what you were trying.” The grin vanished. “I care about what you did.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Then Sukuna smiled again.
“If I ever see you just look in her way” His gaze swept over the boy with open disgust. “…I’ll make sure walking these halls becomes the least of your concerns.”
The threat was spoken so calmly that it somehow became even more terrifying. The athlete swallowed hard. “Y-Yeah.”
“Good, aint you going to apologise?”
“…Sorry.”
“Louder.”
He flinched. “I’m sorry.”
Sukuna didn’t even blink.
“Not to me. dickhead”
The boy slowly turned toward you. “I’m sorry…..” He couldn’t even meet your eyes.
You gave a tiny nod.
Sukuna jerked his head toward the exit. “Now disappear.”
The guy didn’t hesitate. He practically ran, sneakers pounding against the polished floor until the heavy doors slammed shut behind him.
Silence settled over the hallway once more.Only now, your heartbeat was still racing.
“You need to stop freezing Y/N, we alredy talked about th-“
Before he could continue you hug him so tight, feeling at home now.
“I know…i-i tried
He blushes like a strawberry as you hug him, trying to hide his face “You knew he was making you uncomfortable.”
“i know… he was insisting i didn’t know what to do” You hide your face on his chest, making him bludh even more.
“Promise you wont freeze next time?”
You look up to him, seeing him blushing and immediately realising what you’re doing, how did this even happen??
“i-i’m so sorry omg!!” You hide your face in your hands, and he looks away hiding his lower face with his hand, eyes closed shut.
“its fine, dont be embarrassed” He says looking back to you.
You peek through your fingers “Are you blushing??”
“Shut up”
hi my dear sweets!!! im so sorry for the delay but i finished all my exams!! im so happy and free rn ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
hope you like my work!!
(also please if u want to be added in my tags write both in comments and inbox pls!!)
summary: Walking around the school hallway you heard someone calling for you, but this voice is different from the usual annoying one
⋆˚࿔| jjk!masterlist — <<previous chapter - next chapter>>
The fluorescent lights of the high school hallway buzzed softly overhead, casting a pale glow across the polished floor. Their quiet hum blended with the muffled echoes of basketballs bouncing and students shouting in the gymnasium after practice. Most of the school had already emptied out, leaving the corridors strangely peaceful.
You preferred it that way, the fewer people around, the better.
Adjusting the heavy stack of textbooks against your chest, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor as you hurried toward the front entrance. Every step was careful, almost rehearsed. You just wanted to make it home without anyone stopping you.
You were almost there.
“Hey.”
A voice called from behind you, different from the usual low and strong one that used to pester you this days
Maybe if you ignored it…Maybe if you picked up your pace.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.”
Before you could reach the exit, someone stepped directly into your path, your shoes squeaked against the floor as you stopped yourself from walking straight into him.
Looking up, you recognized one of the varsity basketball players. He was tall enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes, his letterman jacket hanging lazily over one shoulder. His smile was confident—too confident—as he leaned casually against the lockers, completely blocking the hallway.
“There you are,” he said with a grin. “You always disappear after class.”
“I… I have somewhere to be.”
“So do I.” He shrugged, as though it were obvious. “With you.”
You blinked. “W-What?”
He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “C’mon. My friends are outside. We’re grabbing food.”
He tilted his head toward the doors.
“Come with us.”
“I… can’t.” You try to look for a way out, just wanting to disappear
“Why not? You’re too pretty to be left alone”
“I need to study.”
“You study every day.”
You stayed silent. Praying that he will eventually go away.
“You can’t seriously spend your whole life buried in books cutie, you’ll get headaches”
“I-I’m sorry.”
His smile faltered, replaced by mild annoyance.
“You keep apologizing.” He crossed his arms. “How about you stop saying sorry and actually come?”
“I really need to go home.”
He sighed dramatically. “You know, everyone says you’re impossible to talk to.”
“I… I don’t mean to be.”
“Then prove it.” He stepped closer.
Instinctively, you stepped back.
Then again closer, too close. Your back lightly tapped against the lockers behind you.
“There.” His grin widened. “Now you’re listening. You’re even cuter now”
Your fingers tightened around your books until the corners dug into your palms.
“I-I really don’t want to—”
“Come on cutie five minutes.” He leans closer “You didn’t really mean no.”
“I just…” Your voice became almost inaudible. “…want to leave.”
Instead of moving aside, he planted one hand against the lockers beside your head, cutting off the only clear path around him.
“C’mon.” His grin stretched wider. “Don’t make this difficult.”
Your heart began pounding. The hallway suddenly felt much smaller.
Your eyes darted toward the empty corridor behind him. There wasn’t anyone else around.
“You’re acting like I’m gonna kidnap you.”
“I just want to go.”
“You’ll survive five minutes. Come on” He caressed your hand
“I don’t want five minutes.”
“Seriously?” He rolled his eyes dramatically. For only a second, the smile disappeared from his face.
“I don’t think you understand.” His expression hardened.
“It wasn’t really a request.” He leaned even closer.
A voice cut cleanly through the silence. Low and Strong
“Take another step.” The hallway seemed to freeze. “I dare you.”
Both of you turned.
Leaning against the doorway of an empty classroom stood Sukuna, one shoulder rested lazily against the frame, arms folded across his chest as though he’d been standing there for quite some time. None of them looked amused.
He slowly pushed himself away from the doorway.
“…Who the hell are you?” the varsity player asked.
Sukuna ignored him.
Instead, his eyes settled on the arm trapping you against the lockers. His gaze lingered.
Then slowly lifted back to the boy’s face. “Move it.”
The guy frowned. “We’re just talking.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Silence.
“I gave you an order.” The athlete laughed nervously.
“Relax, man.” He gestured toward you. “She’s fine.”
Sukuna smiled, it wasn’t reassuring.If anything, it was worse.
“Is she?” His lower pair of eyes shifted toward you for the briefest moment. “Y/N.”
His voice remained calm. “Were you trying to leave?”
You hesitated before giving a small nod. “…Yes.”
“Were you clear about that?”
“…Yes.”
His attention immediately returned to the other boy. “There. Thats all i needed”
He spread his hands ever so slightly. “Now there’s no misunderstanding.”
The varsity student scoffed. “Who made you her bodyguard?”
“No one.”
“Then mind your own business.”
A low chuckle escaped Sukuna. “My business became the second you cornered something that’s under my protection.”
Your eyes widened. Under his protection? Since when??
The words settled strangely in your chest. Making you blush slightly
The guy frowned.
“Under your—” He never finished.
One moment Sukuna was several feet away.
The next— He was standing directly in front of him.
Neither of you had seen him move.
“W-What the—”
Sukuna looked down at him with unmistakable contempt.
“You’ve got nerve.”
His voice dropped into something dangerously quiet. “You ignored her answer.”
“I was just trying to ask her out.”
Sukuna tilted his head. “No.”
“You were trying to pressure her after she rejected you.”
“I—”
“You blocked her path.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You trapped her.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You made her uncomfortable.”
Each sentence landed heavier than the last. Calm. Measured. Merciless.
“You know what’s funny?” Sukuna leaned down slightly.
“I’ve been standing here for almost two minutes.” He looks dead in the guy’s eyes“I watched the whole thing.”
A grin slowly spread across Sukuna’s face. His four crimson eyes narrowed.
“You exceeded my expectations.”
The athlete immediately lifted both hands. “Look, man, I said I’m sorry.”
“You said nothing to her.” Sukuna stepped forward. “You apologized because I showed up.”
The other boy stumbled backward.
“You weren’t sorry.” Another step. “You were comfortable.”
Another.
“Until someone stronger arrived.”
The color completely drained from the athlete’s face. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to—”
“I don’t care what you were trying.” The grin vanished. “I care about what you did.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Then Sukuna smiled again.
“If I ever see you just look in her way” His gaze swept over the boy with open disgust. “…I’ll make sure walking these halls becomes the least of your concerns.”
The threat was spoken so calmly that it somehow became even more terrifying. The athlete swallowed hard. “Y-Yeah.”
“Good, aint you going to apologise?”
“…Sorry.”
“Louder.”
He flinched. “I’m sorry.”
Sukuna didn’t even blink.
“Not to me. dickhead”
The boy slowly turned toward you. “I’m sorry…..” He couldn’t even meet your eyes.
You gave a tiny nod.
Sukuna jerked his head toward the exit. “Now disappear.”
The guy didn’t hesitate. He practically ran, sneakers pounding against the polished floor until the heavy doors slammed shut behind him.
Silence settled over the hallway once more.Only now, your heartbeat was still racing.
“You need to stop freezing Y/N, we alredy talked about th-“
Before he could continue you hug him so tight, feeling at home now.
“I know…i-i tried
He blushes like a strawberry as you hug him, trying to hide his face “You knew he was making you uncomfortable.”
“i know… he was insisting i didn’t know what to do” You hide your face on his chest, making him bludh even more.
“Promise you wont freeze next time?”
You look up to him, seeing him blushing and immediately realising what you’re doing, how did this even happen??
“i-i’m so sorry omg!!” You hide your face in your hands, and he looks away hiding his lower face with his hand, eyes closed shut.
“its fine, dont be embarrassed” He says looking back to you.
You peek through your fingers “Are you blushing??”
“Shut up”
hi my dear sweets!!! im so sorry for the delay but i finished all my exams!! im so happy and free rn ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
hope you like my work!!
(also please if u want to be added in my tags write both in comments and inbox pls!!)
Unexpected behaviour — fratboy!sukuna x shy!reader
summary: a long week passed and your new “friend” felt ignored
𐙚 ̊| jjk!masterlist — <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
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.
"Not so fast."
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)◜
Unexpected behaviour — fratboy!sukuna x shy!reader
summary: a long week passed and your new “friend” felt ignored
𐙚 ̊| jjk!masterlist — <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
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.
"Not so fast."
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)◜
summary: a boy in your class tries to catch your attention, but (un)fortunately Sukuna already catched it
𝜗ৎ| jjk!masterlist <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
The lecture hall was loud, packed with the usual pre-class chatter, but you were doing your best to blend into the background. You kept your eyes glued to your notebook, gripping your pen tightly as a classmate from your group project leaned over your desk.
"So for the presentation on Thursday, do you want to handle the slides or the talking points?" he asked, completely oblivious to how much your heart was hammering just from the sudden social interaction.
"Um, I can do the slides," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the noise. "If that's okay with you..."
"Yeah, totally! That works—"
The classmate's voice abruptly cut off. The air in the doorway of the lecture hall suddenly felt heavy, suffocating even. You didn't need to look up to know who had just walked in.
Ryomen Sukuna.
The campus's most notorious, self-centered frat guy didn't just walk into a room; he commanded it. Today, he was wearing a loose tank top, making no effort to hide the intricate, pitch-black lines encircling his upper arms and wrists, or the dark circles stamped onto his shoulders. The sharp, horizontal tattoo across the bridge of his nose and the crown-like symbol on his forehead practically gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. He ran a hand through his spiked pink hair, his extra set of eyes—usually slits beneath his normal ones—flickering open just enough to scan the room with utter boredom. He was a hedonistic, chaotic mess, and yet, nobody dared cross him.
As he sauntered down the aisle, his dark eyes casually swept over the rows. Then, they locked onto you.
Sukuna slowed his pace, his gaze dropping to the guy leaning just a little too close to your desk. A sharp, mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but beneath it, a sudden, dangerous flash of irritation crossed his face. He didn't say a word, just lingered for a fraction of a second before continuing down the steps, leaving an icy tension in his wake.
Your classmate blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh... what was that about?"
"I-I don't know," you lied, your hands shaking slightly. This was only the third time you had ever crossed paths with Sukuna, and you had hoped the first two times were just weird flukes.
The moment class ended, you packed your bag as fast as possible, desperate to escape. You slipped out into the crowded hallway, hugging your books to your chest and keeping your head down.
The heavy thud of your heart didn't slow down even after Sukuna's tall figure disappeared around the corner of the bustling science building. The hallway slowly returned to its usual chaotic hum, students rushing past you to make their next classes, entirely unaware of the absolute panic attack you were currently hovering on the edge of.
You stood frozen for a solid minute, your fingers digging into the cover of your textbook so hard the cardboard bent. What is his problem? you thought, your mind racing through the three bizarre interactions you’d had with him this semester. You weren't anyone special. You were a quiet biology major who spent most of your time in the back row of lectures or hidden away in the quietest corners of the campus library. Sukuna, on the other hand, was the campus enigma—a chaotic, heavily tattooed force of nature who seemed to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without a single care for the rules.
"Hey! Are you okay?"
The sudden voice made you jump, nearly dropping your books. You turned to see your project partner, Daichi, jogging up the hallway toward you, a look of genuine concern on his face. He had clearly witnessed at least part of that interaction.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," you said quickly, trying to force a reassuring smile, though your voice pitched a little too high. "Just... got caught off guard."
Daichi looked down the hallway where Sukuna had gone, his expression a mix of awe and anxiety. "Man, that guy is terrifying. Did you see his eyes? It literally looks like he has a second pair of eyelids under his normal ones. And those tattoos... people say they aren't even fake, like he got them all done by some underground artist before he even came to college." He shook his head, turning his attention back to you. "Look, if he's giving you trouble, you should tell someone. He looked like he was about to rip my head off back in the lecture hall just for asking you about the PowerPoint."
"No, it's not like that," you lied, desperately wanting to drop the subject. The last thing you wanted was for Daichi to get involved and somehow draw more of Sukuna's volatile attention. "He's just... eccentric. Seriously, don't worry about it. Let's just focus on Thursday. I'll have my half of the slides done by tonight, okay?"
Daichi still looked skeptical, but he nodded. "Alright. Just text me if you need help with the data analysis. See you Thursday."
With a final, lingering look of concern, Daichi walked away. You let out a long, shaky breath and finally forced your legs to move, heading straight out of the building. The fresh autumn air helped clear the suffocating weight from your chest, but the phantom feeling of Sukuna’s heavy hand on your shoulder lingered.
By the time Thursday rolled around, you had managed to push the incident to the back of your mind. The presentation was worth twenty percent of your final grade, and your anxiety over public speaking had completely eclipsed your anxiety regarding the campus's most dangerous frat guy.
The lecture hall was just as packed as it had been two days prior. You sat in the front row with Daichi, reviewing your notes one last time. Your hands were cold, a classic sign of your stage fright acting up.
"Next up, Group Four," the professor called out, gesturing toward the projector screen.
"That's us," Daichi whispered, giving you an encouraging nudge. "We got this."
You stood up, your legs feeling a bit like lead as you walked to the front of the room. As you turned around to face the audience of nearly a hundred students, your eyes instinctively scanned the rows. And there, sitting right in the dead center of the middle row—a spot he *never* usually occupied, given his habit of skipping class or sitting at the very back to sleep—was Sukuna.
He was propped up back in his seat, one arm thrown lazily over the empty chair next to him, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He wasn't looking at the projector screen. His golden-brown eyes were locked onto you, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face as he noticed you pale. The extra slits beneath his eyes were closed, but his presence was no less overwhelming.
Great , you thought, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. Just great.
"Go ahead whenever you're ready," the professor said.
Daichi took the lead, kicking off the presentation with a confident introduction. You focused entirely on the laptop screen, clicking through the slides you had spent hours perfecting. When it was your turn to speak, your voice trembled slightly on the first sentence, but you managed to find a rhythm. You explained the methodology, keeping your eyes strictly fixed on the back wall, deliberately avoiding the middle row.
But Sukuna wasn't making it easy.
As you spoke, he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, his gaze drilling into you with an intensity that felt entirely entirely unfair. When Daichi stepped in to answer a question from a student, he casually put a hand on your shoulder to lean in and whisper, "Which slide has the graph for the control group again?"
The moment Daichi's hand touched your shoulder, a heavy, oppressive silence seemed to ripple from the center row. You didn't even have to look to know Sukuna’s expression had shifted. The lazy amusement was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp hostility.
"Slide seven," you whispered back hurriedly, gently stepping a half-inch away from Daichi.
The rest of the presentation passed in a blur. When the professor finally clapped, signaling the end of your turn, you practically sprinted back to your desk, packing your notebook into your backpack before the next group even reached the podium. You couldn't stay here.
"Hey, we did awesome!" Daichi said, sitting back down next to you. "The professor looked really impressed with the formatting you did on—"
"Thanks, Daichi, I have to go to the restroom really quick," you interrupted, grabbing your bag and bolting out the side door of the lecture hall before he could finish his sentence.
The hallway was quiet since class was still technically in session. You walked quickly toward the exit of the building, wanting nothing more than to get back to your dorm, lock the door, and pull the blankets over your head.
"Running away again?"
You froze. The voice echoed in the empty hallway, deep and laced with a terrifyingly sharp amusement.
You turned around slowly. Sukuna was leaning against a vending machine a few yards away, a half-empty energy drink in his hand. He must have left the lecture hall right after you did. He straightened up, his massive frame easily cutting off the path to the main exit.
"I'm not running away," you said, trying to sound brave, though your voice lacked any real conviction. "I just... finished my part of the class."
"Right. Sure," Sukuna scoffed, taking a slow step toward you. The dark, intricate lines of his tattoos seemed to contrast sharply against his pale skin in the dim hallway lighting. "You looked like a deer in the headlights up there. Tell me, does that idiot always touch you like that?"
Your eyebrows knitted together. "What? Daichi? He just asked me a question about the slides."
"I don't care what he asked," Sukuna snapped, suddenly closing the distance between you. He stopped just inches away, his towering height forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him. The air around him felt hot, charged with an aggressive energy that made your pulse skyrocket. "I told you the other day to tell him to back off. You're terrible at defending your own space."
"Why do you even care?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, fueled by a sudden burst of frustration and adrenaline. "You don't even know me, Sukuna! We've spoken exactly three times. You're just... hunting for reasons to be angry."
Sukuna stared down at you, his eyes narrowing to sharp points. For a second, you wondered if you had pushed him too far. A dangerous, unpredictable silence stretched between you. Then, slowly, the tension in his jaw gave way to a low, rough laugh that vibrated through his chest.
"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously quiet. He leaned down, his face stopping just inches from yours, his golden-brown eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and something entirely possessive. "Because I don't like other people touching what catches my attention. And right now, you're the only interesting thing on this boring-ass campus."
Your breath hitched. Your heart was beating so loudly you were certain he could hear it. "I'm not an object," you murmured, your voice trembling.
"Never said you were," he murmured back, a dark, wicked smirk pulling at his lips. He reached out, his large, warm hand lightly brushing against the side of your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline for a fleeting, electrifying second before he drew back. "But you're mine to bother. Remember that. Next time I see that guy crowding you, I won't just look at him."
Before you could find your voice to reply, he turned around, tossing his empty drink into a nearby recycling bin with a perfect strike. "See you around," he called out over his shoulder, his tone casual and bored once again, as if he hadn't just completely upended your entire sense of reality.
You stood alone in the hallway, your face burning, watching his retreating back until he finally walked out into the autumn sunlight.
hi sweets!! sorry i wasn’t active this days but uni is killing me… hope you like my work! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
summary: a boy in your class tries to catch your attention, but (un)fortunately Sukuna already catched it
𝜗ৎ| jjk!masterlist <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
The lecture hall was loud, packed with the usual pre-class chatter, but you were doing your best to blend into the background. You kept your eyes glued to your notebook, gripping your pen tightly as a classmate from your group project leaned over your desk.
"So for the presentation on Thursday, do you want to handle the slides or the talking points?" he asked, completely oblivious to how much your heart was hammering just from the sudden social interaction.
"Um, I can do the slides," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the noise. "If that's okay with you..."
"Yeah, totally! That works—"
The classmate's voice abruptly cut off. The air in the doorway of the lecture hall suddenly felt heavy, suffocating even. You didn't need to look up to know who had just walked in.
Ryomen Sukuna.
The campus's most notorious, self-centered frat guy didn't just walk into a room; he commanded it. Today, he was wearing a loose tank top, making no effort to hide the intricate, pitch-black lines encircling his upper arms and wrists, or the dark circles stamped onto his shoulders. The sharp, horizontal tattoo across the bridge of his nose and the crown-like symbol on his forehead practically gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. He ran a hand through his spiked pink hair, his extra set of eyes—usually slits beneath his normal ones—flickering open just enough to scan the room with utter boredom. He was a hedonistic, chaotic mess, and yet, nobody dared cross him.
As he sauntered down the aisle, his dark eyes casually swept over the rows. Then, they locked onto you.
Sukuna slowed his pace, his gaze dropping to the guy leaning just a little too close to your desk. A sharp, mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but beneath it, a sudden, dangerous flash of irritation crossed his face. He didn't say a word, just lingered for a fraction of a second before continuing down the steps, leaving an icy tension in his wake.
Your classmate blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh... what was that about?"
"I-I don't know," you lied, your hands shaking slightly. This was only the third time you had ever crossed paths with Sukuna, and you had hoped the first two times were just weird flukes.
The moment class ended, you packed your bag as fast as possible, desperate to escape. You slipped out into the crowded hallway, hugging your books to your chest and keeping your head down.
The heavy thud of your heart didn't slow down even after Sukuna's tall figure disappeared around the corner of the bustling science building. The hallway slowly returned to its usual chaotic hum, students rushing past you to make their next classes, entirely unaware of the absolute panic attack you were currently hovering on the edge of.
You stood frozen for a solid minute, your fingers digging into the cover of your textbook so hard the cardboard bent. What is his problem? you thought, your mind racing through the three bizarre interactions you’d had with him this semester. You weren't anyone special. You were a quiet biology major who spent most of your time in the back row of lectures or hidden away in the quietest corners of the campus library. Sukuna, on the other hand, was the campus enigma—a chaotic, heavily tattooed force of nature who seemed to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without a single care for the rules.
"Hey! Are you okay?"
The sudden voice made you jump, nearly dropping your books. You turned to see your project partner, Daichi, jogging up the hallway toward you, a look of genuine concern on his face. He had clearly witnessed at least part of that interaction.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," you said quickly, trying to force a reassuring smile, though your voice pitched a little too high. "Just... got caught off guard."
Daichi looked down the hallway where Sukuna had gone, his expression a mix of awe and anxiety. "Man, that guy is terrifying. Did you see his eyes? It literally looks like he has a second pair of eyelids under his normal ones. And those tattoos... people say they aren't even fake, like he got them all done by some underground artist before he even came to college." He shook his head, turning his attention back to you. "Look, if he's giving you trouble, you should tell someone. He looked like he was about to rip my head off back in the lecture hall just for asking you about the PowerPoint."
"No, it's not like that," you lied, desperately wanting to drop the subject. The last thing you wanted was for Daichi to get involved and somehow draw more of Sukuna's volatile attention. "He's just... eccentric. Seriously, don't worry about it. Let's just focus on Thursday. I'll have my half of the slides done by tonight, okay?"
Daichi still looked skeptical, but he nodded. "Alright. Just text me if you need help with the data analysis. See you Thursday."
With a final, lingering look of concern, Daichi walked away. You let out a long, shaky breath and finally forced your legs to move, heading straight out of the building. The fresh autumn air helped clear the suffocating weight from your chest, but the phantom feeling of Sukuna’s heavy hand on your shoulder lingered.
By the time Thursday rolled around, you had managed to push the incident to the back of your mind. The presentation was worth twenty percent of your final grade, and your anxiety over public speaking had completely eclipsed your anxiety regarding the campus's most dangerous frat guy.
The lecture hall was just as packed as it had been two days prior. You sat in the front row with Daichi, reviewing your notes one last time. Your hands were cold, a classic sign of your stage fright acting up.
"Next up, Group Four," the professor called out, gesturing toward the projector screen.
"That's us," Daichi whispered, giving you an encouraging nudge. "We got this."
You stood up, your legs feeling a bit like lead as you walked to the front of the room. As you turned around to face the audience of nearly a hundred students, your eyes instinctively scanned the rows. And there, sitting right in the dead center of the middle row—a spot he *never* usually occupied, given his habit of skipping class or sitting at the very back to sleep—was Sukuna.
He was propped up back in his seat, one arm thrown lazily over the empty chair next to him, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He wasn't looking at the projector screen. His golden-brown eyes were locked onto you, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face as he noticed you pale. The extra slits beneath his eyes were closed, but his presence was no less overwhelming.
Great , you thought, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. Just great.
"Go ahead whenever you're ready," the professor said.
Daichi took the lead, kicking off the presentation with a confident introduction. You focused entirely on the laptop screen, clicking through the slides you had spent hours perfecting. When it was your turn to speak, your voice trembled slightly on the first sentence, but you managed to find a rhythm. You explained the methodology, keeping your eyes strictly fixed on the back wall, deliberately avoiding the middle row.
But Sukuna wasn't making it easy.
As you spoke, he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, his gaze drilling into you with an intensity that felt entirely entirely unfair. When Daichi stepped in to answer a question from a student, he casually put a hand on your shoulder to lean in and whisper, "Which slide has the graph for the control group again?"
The moment Daichi's hand touched your shoulder, a heavy, oppressive silence seemed to ripple from the center row. You didn't even have to look to know Sukuna’s expression had shifted. The lazy amusement was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp hostility.
"Slide seven," you whispered back hurriedly, gently stepping a half-inch away from Daichi.
The rest of the presentation passed in a blur. When the professor finally clapped, signaling the end of your turn, you practically sprinted back to your desk, packing your notebook into your backpack before the next group even reached the podium. You couldn't stay here.
"Hey, we did awesome!" Daichi said, sitting back down next to you. "The professor looked really impressed with the formatting you did on—"
"Thanks, Daichi, I have to go to the restroom really quick," you interrupted, grabbing your bag and bolting out the side door of the lecture hall before he could finish his sentence.
The hallway was quiet since class was still technically in session. You walked quickly toward the exit of the building, wanting nothing more than to get back to your dorm, lock the door, and pull the blankets over your head.
"Running away again?"
You froze. The voice echoed in the empty hallway, deep and laced with a terrifyingly sharp amusement.
You turned around slowly. Sukuna was leaning against a vending machine a few yards away, a half-empty energy drink in his hand. He must have left the lecture hall right after you did. He straightened up, his massive frame easily cutting off the path to the main exit.
"I'm not running away," you said, trying to sound brave, though your voice lacked any real conviction. "I just... finished my part of the class."
"Right. Sure," Sukuna scoffed, taking a slow step toward you. The dark, intricate lines of his tattoos seemed to contrast sharply against his pale skin in the dim hallway lighting. "You looked like a deer in the headlights up there. Tell me, does that idiot always touch you like that?"
Your eyebrows knitted together. "What? Daichi? He just asked me a question about the slides."
"I don't care what he asked," Sukuna snapped, suddenly closing the distance between you. He stopped just inches away, his towering height forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him. The air around him felt hot, charged with an aggressive energy that made your pulse skyrocket. "I told you the other day to tell him to back off. You're terrible at defending your own space."
"Why do you even care?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, fueled by a sudden burst of frustration and adrenaline. "You don't even know me, Sukuna! We've spoken exactly three times. You're just... hunting for reasons to be angry."
Sukuna stared down at you, his eyes narrowing to sharp points. For a second, you wondered if you had pushed him too far. A dangerous, unpredictable silence stretched between you. Then, slowly, the tension in his jaw gave way to a low, rough laugh that vibrated through his chest.
"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously quiet. He leaned down, his face stopping just inches from yours, his golden-brown eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and something entirely possessive. "Because I don't like other people touching what catches my attention. And right now, you're the only interesting thing on this boring-ass campus."
Your breath hitched. Your heart was beating so loudly you were certain he could hear it. "I'm not an object," you murmured, your voice trembling.
"Never said you were," he murmured back, a dark, wicked smirk pulling at his lips. He reached out, his large, warm hand lightly brushing against the side of your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline for a fleeting, electrifying second before he drew back. "But you're mine to bother. Remember that. Next time I see that guy crowding you, I won't just look at him."
Before you could find your voice to reply, he turned around, tossing his empty drink into a nearby recycling bin with a perfect strike. "See you around," he called out over his shoulder, his tone casual and bored once again, as if he hadn't just completely upended your entire sense of reality.
You stood alone in the hallway, your face burning, watching his retreating back until he finally walked out into the autumn sunlight.
hi sweets!! sorry i wasn’t active this days but uni is killing me… hope you like my work! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
summary: your friend dragged you again with her for moral support but she ended up supporting you instead
⟢ l jjk!masterlist - <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
The afternoon sun beat down relentlessly on the university's practice field a few days later, baking the metal bleachers until waves of heat shimmered off the rows. The heavy, humid air was filled with the sharp, piercing whistles of coaches echoing across the gridiron and the rhythmic, hollow thud of football pads colliding as the players ran their drills. You sat high up on the metal bleachers, feeling incredibly small and exposed against the vast backdrop of the campus stadium. Pulling your oversized sweater sleeves down until they completely covered your hands, you shifted uncomfortably, desperately trying to blend into the rigid aluminum structure and disappear from sight.
Beside you, your best friend was leaning dangerously far over the rusted railing, completely captivated by the varsity team's intense scrimmage. Her eyes tracked every play with a fierce intensity, her fingers gripping the metal as she cheered under her breath. She had dragged you along under the guise of needing moral support while she watched her current crush run drills in the stifling heat, but you were mostly there as a tactical human shield, a buffer between her overwhelming enthusiasm and the rest of the world.
You kept your gaze firmly fixed on your lap, counting the frayed threads of your jeans, determined not to look at the field below. Ever since the chaotic frat party last weekend, your nerves had been completely shot, leaving you in a perpetual state of jumpiness. You couldn't shake the vivid memory of Sukuna blocking your path in that dimly lit, crowded hallway—the sheer presence of him, the way he had looked down at you, and the suffocating feeling of being entirely trapped by his gaze.
"Oh, wow," your friend suddenly gasped, nudging your shoulder so hard you nearly lost your balance on the narrow bench. "Look at number three. I didn't think he actually practiced with the team."
Against your better judgment, pulled by a sudden wave of anxious curiosity, your eyes flicked up toward the bright green field. Your heart instantly dropped into your stomach, a heavy weight settling behind your ribs.
Standing near the fifty-yard line, helmet held carelessly under one arm as if it weighed nothing at all, was Sukuna. Without his jersey over it, his gray practice tank top left his broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms completely bare, putting his intricate, dark black tattoos on full, unapologetic display against his sun-warmed skin. His striking pink hair was damp with sweat, pushed up beneath a black headband that contrasted sharply with his features, and even from this distance, his sharp, menacingly attractive jawline was unmistakable.
As if sensing your gaze through the heavy afternoon air, Sukuna’s head snapped directly toward your specific section of the bleachers with predatory accuracy. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto yours instantly, narrowing slightly in immediate recognition.
A deep, hot flush crept rapidly up your neck, burning your ears. You immediately looked down, your hands trembling slightly as you grabbed your phone and pretended to be intensely fascinated by your blank, dark screen, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
A few minutes later, the bright sunlight was blocked out, and a heavy shadow fell over your lap.
"Well, look who decided to show up to my practice."
The gravelly, incredibly cocky voice cut through the background noise of the field, making you freeze completely in your seat. You slowly looked up to find Sukuna leaning casually against the handrail of the bleachers right next to your row, looking entirely out of place among the spectators yet perfectly in control. A sharp, knowing smirk played on his lips as he took in your wide-eyed, flustered expression, his dark eyes gleaming with malicious amusement.
Your friend went completely silent beside you, her previous excitement freezing instantly into utter shock as she stared at the massive varsity player standing just inches away.
"I-I'm just here with my friend," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to shrink back into your seat, wishing the aluminum rows would somehow swallow you whole.
Sukuna let out a low, amused huff, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his broad chest, the movement drawing attention to the sheer size of him. His entire focus was fixed on you, taking supreme delight in how easily he could rattle your composure with just a few words. “A scared little bird,” he repeated, almost tasting the words, his tone dripping with mockery.
“I-I wasn’t—”
“You were staring.”
“I was not!”
“You absolutely were.”
“I looked up for two seconds!”
“And somehow those two seconds landed right on me.”
Heat flooded your face, turning your cheeks a dark, undeniable crimson. Beside you, the silence was broken as your friend suddenly sucked in a dramatic, loud breath that cut through the tension. “Oh my god.”
Both of you looked at her, breaking the intense eye contact. She was staring at Sukuna with wide, unblinking eyes, looking like she’d just witnessed a legendary celebrity descend from heaven directly into the stadium.
“You’re number three?” she asked.
Sukuna blinked, his head tilting slightly as he was momentarily pulled from his amusement at your expense. “Uh… yeah?”
“You play defense?”
“Yeah.”
She grabbed your arm so hard her fingernails dug through your sweater, making you almost yelped in pain. “HE’S THE HOT ONE I WAS TALKING ABOUT!”
You nearly choked on your own breath, your eyes widening in sheer panic at her lack of a filter. Sukuna’s eyebrow rose slowly, a highly entertained expression crossing his sharp features. “The hot one?”
She nodded frantically, her ponytail bouncing with the movement. “The one with the tattoos! The one I said looked like a villain in a movie! The one I have, like, a tiny crush on.”
“A tiny crush?” you whispered in horror, desperately tugging at her sleeve to make her stop, but she ignored you completely, entirely starstruck.
Sukuna looked deeply amused, his formidable ego visibly expanding by the second as he stretched his neck out. “You’ve got a crush on me?”
Your friend looked completely unashamed, squaring her shoulders. “Yeah.”
“Wow. That was easy.”
She shrugged carelessly. “I’m secure in myself.”
You wanted the earth to open up, the bleachers to split wide open, and the ground to swallow you whole to escape this nightmare. Sukuna glanced down at you, taking in your mortified expression, then back at your unapologetic friend, then back at you again, a low chuckle bubbling in his throat. “You two are weird.”
“Thank you,” your friend said proudly, taking it as a high compliment.
“No, seriously. Why are you hiding up here?” He stepped closer, his gaze sharpening significantly as he looked directly at you again, cutting right through your defenses. “I know you’re not here for football.”
“I told you, I’m here with my friend.”
Your friend immediately betrayed you without a second thought. “Actually, I had to drag her here.”
You whipped around to face her, betrayal burning in your chest. “What?!”
“Sorry.”
“You promised you wouldn’t talk!”
“I didn’t know your scary hallway guy was a football player!”
Sukuna’s grin grew wide and dangerous, his sharp teeth showing slightly as he absorbed this new piece of information. “Scary hallway guy?”
You covered your face with your hands, pressing your palms into your eyes and wishing for an immediate escape route. Your friend continued completely unbothered by your internal crisis. “Yeah! She hasn’t stopped thinking about you since that party.”
You made a strangled, pathetic noise into your palms. Sukuna’s grin slowly grew even wider, his dark eyes locking onto your hidden face. “Oh?”
“She keeps getting all red whenever I mention—”
You snapped, dropping your hands and slapping a palm directly over her mouth to cut off the sentence. “STOP TALKING.”
“Mmph!” she protested, her voice muffled against your hand as she tried to pull away.
Sukuna looked entirely too entertained by the chaotic display unfolding in front of him. He stepped up another aluminum bleacher until he was standing directly in front of your row, his massive frame looming heavily over your seated form and completely blocking out the afternoon sun. “You’ve been thinking about me?”
“No.”
“Your friend says otherwise.”
“She’s a liar.”
“Mmph!” your friend protested loudly against your palm, swatting at your wrist.
“You looked pretty nervous when you saw me,” Sukuna taunted, leaning down slightly so his face was closer to yours, the faint scent of sweat and grass drifting off him. “You looked like you saw a ghost.”
You finally dropped your hand from your friend's mouth, shifting your weight to glare up at him with all the false confidence you could muster. “You’re mean.”
He actually laughed—a real, deep, rough laugh that vibrated in his chest and was annoyingly, frustratingly attractive. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“You called me scary first.”
“I didn’t call you scary!”
“You called me the scary hallway guy.”
“That was her!”
Your friend nodded seamlessly, jumping right back into the conversation the moment her mouth was free. “You were definitely scared.”
You groaned loudly, lowering your head into your lap once more. Sukuna crossed his arms again, the double bands of dark ink on his biceps flexing prominently with the movement. “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me. You practically sprinted away after the party.”
“You cornered me!”
“I said hi.”
“You blocked the entire hallway!”
“I’m a big guy.”
“You did it on purpose!”
“Maybe.” He stepped even closer, his long shadow falling completely over you, isolating you from the rest of the stadium. His eyes narrowed slightly as he analyzed your face. “You blush a lot.”
“No, I don't.”
“You do.”
“I really don't.”
“You’ve been red since I walked over here.”
You immediately covered your burning cheeks with both hands, a defensive reflex that only made his smirk widen into a triumphant grin.
“Cute,” he murmured.
Your brain completely stopped working, the single word echoing in your mind and leaving you utterly speechless. Beside you, your friend looked like she was about to explode from the sheer secondhand drama. “Oh my god,” she whispered under her breath.
A sharp, piercing whistle suddenly blew loudly from the green field below, shattering the private bubble that had formed on the bleachers. One of the head coaches stood on the track, red-faced and furious, shouting up at the stands, “SUKUNA! GET YOUR ASS BACK DOWN HERE!”
Without even looking away from you, keeping his intense gaze locked on your flustered face, Sukuna yelled back carelessly over his shoulder, “In a minute!”
Several players on the field stopped their drills, turning around to laugh and shout raucously up at the high bleachers.
“DID NUMBER THREE FINALLY GET A GIRL?”
“NO WAY!”
Sukuna looked completely unbothered by the loud teasing of his teammates, his posture remaining relaxed and arrogant. You, however, wanted to dissolve into thin air and vanish from the campus entirely.
Suddenly, a stray football from an incomplete pass came flying through the air, spiraling rapidly toward your section of the bleachers. Without even turning his head around to look at the incoming projectile, Sukuna casually reached out his right arm and caught the ball cleanly with one hand, the leather smacking sharply against his palm.
Your friend nearly fainted on the spot, her jaw dropping. “Oh, he’s cool too?”
He tossed the ball effortlessly back down to the field with a flick of his wrist. “You okay?” he asked her, his tone entirely casual as if he hadn't just intercepted a rogue football blindly.
“No,” she breathed, shaking her head. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You can’t just do things like that.”
“What?”
“The catching!”
He stared at her for a moment, his expression blank, as if she were speaking a completely foreign language. “You mean… catch a football?”
“Yeah!”
“That’s literally the sport.”
“I know, but still!”
You buried your face in your hands again, unable to handle the sheer absurdity of the situation. Sukuna chuckled, the sound low, rumbling, and deeply amused by the pair of you. Your friend grabbed your arm tightly, shaking it back and forth. “I get it now. He has a nice laugh.”
“Stop staring at him,” you hissed at her through your fingers.
“You stop staring at him.”
“I wasn’t!”
Sukuna looked back and forth between the two of you, his dark eyes tracking the movement like he was watching a fast-paced tennis match. “You guys argue a lot.”
“We’re best friends,” she explained cheerfully.
“Unfortunately,” you added, your voice muffled.
The coach’s whistle blew a second time, much louder and sharper than before, vibrating through the aluminum structure. “SUKUNA!”
“COMING!” he yelled back, the veins in his neck flexing as he finally turned his attention toward the field. He let out a short, annoyed sigh, adjusting the headband on his forehead. “Looks like I’m needed.”
Neither of you said anything, assuming the ordeal was finally over and he would just turn and walk away. But then he paused on the step, locking his dark, intense eyes directly back onto yours, trapping you once again.
“You coming to the game on Friday?”
“What?”
“The game.”
“I don’t—”
“She’ll be there!” your friend cut in loudly, answering for you before you could formulate a rejection.
You looked at her in absolute horror, your heart stopping. “I never said that!”
“You are now.”
Sukuna’s smirk returned in full force, sharp, knowing, and entirely satisfied with the outcome. “I’ll save you a seat.”
“I don’t need a seat.”
“Sure you don’t.”
“I really don’t.”
“We’ll see.” He started walking backward down the steep aluminum steps, navigating the drop with effortless coordination and balance without ever breaking eye contact with you. Then, right before his cleats reached the running track, he stopped and looked up at you one last time. “Oh, and scared little bird?”
You blinked, caught completely off guard by the sudden use of the nickname. “What?”
His grin stretched wide across his face, full of pure, cocky satisfaction that radiated all the way up to the top row. “Try not to miss me too much until Friday.”
Your entire face exploded into a brilliant, burning red that felt hot enough to leave a mark. Your friend let out a high-pitched, ecstatic squeal that echoed off the metal stands as Sukuna turned around and jogged back onto the bright field, completely aware of the absolute chaos he had just left behind in his wake.
Down on the field, the rest of the varsity team was huddling up, shouting and shoving each other, but right before the play started and the quarterback called the snap, Sukuna glanced back up toward the high bleachers. The exact second he saw you looking down at him, his signature smirk returned.
Then, with absolute confidence, he deliberately winked.
Your friend screamed at the top of her lungs, grabbing your shoulders, and your knees went so weak that you nearly slid right off your metal seat onto the floor below.
i feel like i could have done so much better with this (╥ ᴗ ╥)
summary: your friend dragged you again with her for moral support but she ended up supporting you instead
⟢ l jjk!masterlist - <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
The afternoon sun beat down relentlessly on the university's practice field a few days later, baking the metal bleachers until waves of heat shimmered off the rows. The heavy, humid air was filled with the sharp, piercing whistles of coaches echoing across the gridiron and the rhythmic, hollow thud of football pads colliding as the players ran their drills. You sat high up on the metal bleachers, feeling incredibly small and exposed against the vast backdrop of the campus stadium. Pulling your oversized sweater sleeves down until they completely covered your hands, you shifted uncomfortably, desperately trying to blend into the rigid aluminum structure and disappear from sight.
Beside you, your best friend was leaning dangerously far over the rusted railing, completely captivated by the varsity team's intense scrimmage. Her eyes tracked every play with a fierce intensity, her fingers gripping the metal as she cheered under her breath. She had dragged you along under the guise of needing moral support while she watched her current crush run drills in the stifling heat, but you were mostly there as a tactical human shield, a buffer between her overwhelming enthusiasm and the rest of the world.
You kept your gaze firmly fixed on your lap, counting the frayed threads of your jeans, determined not to look at the field below. Ever since the chaotic frat party last weekend, your nerves had been completely shot, leaving you in a perpetual state of jumpiness. You couldn't shake the vivid memory of Sukuna blocking your path in that dimly lit, crowded hallway—the sheer presence of him, the way he had looked down at you, and the suffocating feeling of being entirely trapped by his gaze.
"Oh, wow," your friend suddenly gasped, nudging your shoulder so hard you nearly lost your balance on the narrow bench. "Look at number three. I didn't think he actually practiced with the team."
Against your better judgment, pulled by a sudden wave of anxious curiosity, your eyes flicked up toward the bright green field. Your heart instantly dropped into your stomach, a heavy weight settling behind your ribs.
Standing near the fifty-yard line, helmet held carelessly under one arm as if it weighed nothing at all, was Sukuna. Without his jersey over it, his gray practice tank top left his broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms completely bare, putting his intricate, dark black tattoos on full, unapologetic display against his sun-warmed skin. His striking pink hair was damp with sweat, pushed up beneath a black headband that contrasted sharply with his features, and even from this distance, his sharp, menacingly attractive jawline was unmistakable.
As if sensing your gaze through the heavy afternoon air, Sukuna’s head snapped directly toward your specific section of the bleachers with predatory accuracy. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto yours instantly, narrowing slightly in immediate recognition.
A deep, hot flush crept rapidly up your neck, burning your ears. You immediately looked down, your hands trembling slightly as you grabbed your phone and pretended to be intensely fascinated by your blank, dark screen, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
A few minutes later, the bright sunlight was blocked out, and a heavy shadow fell over your lap.
"Well, look who decided to show up to my practice."
The gravelly, incredibly cocky voice cut through the background noise of the field, making you freeze completely in your seat. You slowly looked up to find Sukuna leaning casually against the handrail of the bleachers right next to your row, looking entirely out of place among the spectators yet perfectly in control. A sharp, knowing smirk played on his lips as he took in your wide-eyed, flustered expression, his dark eyes gleaming with malicious amusement.
Your friend went completely silent beside you, her previous excitement freezing instantly into utter shock as she stared at the massive varsity player standing just inches away.
"I-I'm just here with my friend," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to shrink back into your seat, wishing the aluminum rows would somehow swallow you whole.
Sukuna let out a low, amused huff, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his broad chest, the movement drawing attention to the sheer size of him. His entire focus was fixed on you, taking supreme delight in how easily he could rattle your composure with just a few words. “A scared little bird,” he repeated, almost tasting the words, his tone dripping with mockery.
“I-I wasn’t—”
“You were staring.”
“I was not!”
“You absolutely were.”
“I looked up for two seconds!”
“And somehow those two seconds landed right on me.”
Heat flooded your face, turning your cheeks a dark, undeniable crimson. Beside you, the silence was broken as your friend suddenly sucked in a dramatic, loud breath that cut through the tension. “Oh my god.”
Both of you looked at her, breaking the intense eye contact. She was staring at Sukuna with wide, unblinking eyes, looking like she’d just witnessed a legendary celebrity descend from heaven directly into the stadium.
“You’re number three?” she asked.
Sukuna blinked, his head tilting slightly as he was momentarily pulled from his amusement at your expense. “Uh… yeah?”
“You play defense?”
“Yeah.”
She grabbed your arm so hard her fingernails dug through your sweater, making you almost yelped in pain. “HE’S THE HOT ONE I WAS TALKING ABOUT!”
You nearly choked on your own breath, your eyes widening in sheer panic at her lack of a filter. Sukuna’s eyebrow rose slowly, a highly entertained expression crossing his sharp features. “The hot one?”
She nodded frantically, her ponytail bouncing with the movement. “The one with the tattoos! The one I said looked like a villain in a movie! The one I have, like, a tiny crush on.”
“A tiny crush?” you whispered in horror, desperately tugging at her sleeve to make her stop, but she ignored you completely, entirely starstruck.
Sukuna looked deeply amused, his formidable ego visibly expanding by the second as he stretched his neck out. “You’ve got a crush on me?”
Your friend looked completely unashamed, squaring her shoulders. “Yeah.”
“Wow. That was easy.”
She shrugged carelessly. “I’m secure in myself.”
You wanted the earth to open up, the bleachers to split wide open, and the ground to swallow you whole to escape this nightmare. Sukuna glanced down at you, taking in your mortified expression, then back at your unapologetic friend, then back at you again, a low chuckle bubbling in his throat. “You two are weird.”
“Thank you,” your friend said proudly, taking it as a high compliment.
“No, seriously. Why are you hiding up here?” He stepped closer, his gaze sharpening significantly as he looked directly at you again, cutting right through your defenses. “I know you’re not here for football.”
“I told you, I’m here with my friend.”
Your friend immediately betrayed you without a second thought. “Actually, I had to drag her here.”
You whipped around to face her, betrayal burning in your chest. “What?!”
“Sorry.”
“You promised you wouldn’t talk!”
“I didn’t know your scary hallway guy was a football player!”
Sukuna’s grin grew wide and dangerous, his sharp teeth showing slightly as he absorbed this new piece of information. “Scary hallway guy?”
You covered your face with your hands, pressing your palms into your eyes and wishing for an immediate escape route. Your friend continued completely unbothered by your internal crisis. “Yeah! She hasn’t stopped thinking about you since that party.”
You made a strangled, pathetic noise into your palms. Sukuna’s grin slowly grew even wider, his dark eyes locking onto your hidden face. “Oh?”
“She keeps getting all red whenever I mention—”
You snapped, dropping your hands and slapping a palm directly over her mouth to cut off the sentence. “STOP TALKING.”
“Mmph!” she protested, her voice muffled against your hand as she tried to pull away.
Sukuna looked entirely too entertained by the chaotic display unfolding in front of him. He stepped up another aluminum bleacher until he was standing directly in front of your row, his massive frame looming heavily over your seated form and completely blocking out the afternoon sun. “You’ve been thinking about me?”
“No.”
“Your friend says otherwise.”
“She’s a liar.”
“Mmph!” your friend protested loudly against your palm, swatting at your wrist.
“You looked pretty nervous when you saw me,” Sukuna taunted, leaning down slightly so his face was closer to yours, the faint scent of sweat and grass drifting off him. “You looked like you saw a ghost.”
You finally dropped your hand from your friend's mouth, shifting your weight to glare up at him with all the false confidence you could muster. “You’re mean.”
He actually laughed—a real, deep, rough laugh that vibrated in his chest and was annoyingly, frustratingly attractive. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“You called me scary first.”
“I didn’t call you scary!”
“You called me the scary hallway guy.”
“That was her!”
Your friend nodded seamlessly, jumping right back into the conversation the moment her mouth was free. “You were definitely scared.”
You groaned loudly, lowering your head into your lap once more. Sukuna crossed his arms again, the double bands of dark ink on his biceps flexing prominently with the movement. “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me. You practically sprinted away after the party.”
“You cornered me!”
“I said hi.”
“You blocked the entire hallway!”
“I’m a big guy.”
“You did it on purpose!”
“Maybe.” He stepped even closer, his long shadow falling completely over you, isolating you from the rest of the stadium. His eyes narrowed slightly as he analyzed your face. “You blush a lot.”
“No, I don't.”
“You do.”
“I really don't.”
“You’ve been red since I walked over here.”
You immediately covered your burning cheeks with both hands, a defensive reflex that only made his smirk widen into a triumphant grin.
“Cute,” he murmured.
Your brain completely stopped working, the single word echoing in your mind and leaving you utterly speechless. Beside you, your friend looked like she was about to explode from the sheer secondhand drama. “Oh my god,” she whispered under her breath.
A sharp, piercing whistle suddenly blew loudly from the green field below, shattering the private bubble that had formed on the bleachers. One of the head coaches stood on the track, red-faced and furious, shouting up at the stands, “SUKUNA! GET YOUR ASS BACK DOWN HERE!”
Without even looking away from you, keeping his intense gaze locked on your flustered face, Sukuna yelled back carelessly over his shoulder, “In a minute!”
Several players on the field stopped their drills, turning around to laugh and shout raucously up at the high bleachers.
“DID NUMBER THREE FINALLY GET A GIRL?”
“NO WAY!”
Sukuna looked completely unbothered by the loud teasing of his teammates, his posture remaining relaxed and arrogant. You, however, wanted to dissolve into thin air and vanish from the campus entirely.
Suddenly, a stray football from an incomplete pass came flying through the air, spiraling rapidly toward your section of the bleachers. Without even turning his head around to look at the incoming projectile, Sukuna casually reached out his right arm and caught the ball cleanly with one hand, the leather smacking sharply against his palm.
Your friend nearly fainted on the spot, her jaw dropping. “Oh, he’s cool too?”
He tossed the ball effortlessly back down to the field with a flick of his wrist. “You okay?” he asked her, his tone entirely casual as if he hadn't just intercepted a rogue football blindly.
“No,” she breathed, shaking her head. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You can’t just do things like that.”
“What?”
“The catching!”
He stared at her for a moment, his expression blank, as if she were speaking a completely foreign language. “You mean… catch a football?”
“Yeah!”
“That’s literally the sport.”
“I know, but still!”
You buried your face in your hands again, unable to handle the sheer absurdity of the situation. Sukuna chuckled, the sound low, rumbling, and deeply amused by the pair of you. Your friend grabbed your arm tightly, shaking it back and forth. “I get it now. He has a nice laugh.”
“Stop staring at him,” you hissed at her through your fingers.
“You stop staring at him.”
“I wasn’t!”
Sukuna looked back and forth between the two of you, his dark eyes tracking the movement like he was watching a fast-paced tennis match. “You guys argue a lot.”
“We’re best friends,” she explained cheerfully.
“Unfortunately,” you added, your voice muffled.
The coach’s whistle blew a second time, much louder and sharper than before, vibrating through the aluminum structure. “SUKUNA!”
“COMING!” he yelled back, the veins in his neck flexing as he finally turned his attention toward the field. He let out a short, annoyed sigh, adjusting the headband on his forehead. “Looks like I’m needed.”
Neither of you said anything, assuming the ordeal was finally over and he would just turn and walk away. But then he paused on the step, locking his dark, intense eyes directly back onto yours, trapping you once again.
“You coming to the game on Friday?”
“What?”
“The game.”
“I don’t—”
“She’ll be there!” your friend cut in loudly, answering for you before you could formulate a rejection.
You looked at her in absolute horror, your heart stopping. “I never said that!”
“You are now.”
Sukuna’s smirk returned in full force, sharp, knowing, and entirely satisfied with the outcome. “I’ll save you a seat.”
“I don’t need a seat.”
“Sure you don’t.”
“I really don’t.”
“We’ll see.” He started walking backward down the steep aluminum steps, navigating the drop with effortless coordination and balance without ever breaking eye contact with you. Then, right before his cleats reached the running track, he stopped and looked up at you one last time. “Oh, and scared little bird?”
You blinked, caught completely off guard by the sudden use of the nickname. “What?”
His grin stretched wide across his face, full of pure, cocky satisfaction that radiated all the way up to the top row. “Try not to miss me too much until Friday.”
Your entire face exploded into a brilliant, burning red that felt hot enough to leave a mark. Your friend let out a high-pitched, ecstatic squeal that echoed off the metal stands as Sukuna turned around and jogged back onto the bright field, completely aware of the absolute chaos he had just left behind in his wake.
Down on the field, the rest of the varsity team was huddling up, shouting and shoving each other, but right before the play started and the quarterback called the snap, Sukuna glanced back up toward the high bleachers. The exact second he saw you looking down at him, his signature smirk returned.
Then, with absolute confidence, he deliberately winked.
Your friend screamed at the top of her lungs, grabbing your shoulders, and your knees went so weak that you nearly slid right off your metal seat onto the floor below.
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