After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.
Everything was so much weird.
When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.
You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.
But the real shock came twenty minutes later.
The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.
You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.
"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.
You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.
"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.
Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.
When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.
"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"
You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."
The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukunaâs entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.
"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.
"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.
"And do you know where you are right now?"
"A hospital?"
"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."
You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign
So you were married.
"Y/n" Dr. Jenniferâs voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."
The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.
Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?
"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."
You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.
"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.
The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.
"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.
"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.
To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.
"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."
You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.
An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.
You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.
"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.
"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.
"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.
"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."
"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"
"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."
He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.
"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."
He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.
Sukunaâs hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.
As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.
"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.
'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukunaâs jaw clench painfully.
"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.
It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.
You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.
Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.
"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.
He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.
"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."
You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.
"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."
"Okay" you hummed softly.
His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."
You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.
"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"
His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.
"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.
He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."
"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.
"Yeah. You have parents. Your fatherâ"
"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"
"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.
"Why?"
"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, youâd be cut off permanently."
You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."
The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukunaâs lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.
"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."
"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.
"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.
Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."
A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.
Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.
Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.
When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.
And then, there was Sukuna.
Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.
To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.
He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much
His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.
At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.
The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.
Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"
"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.
"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.
"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."
The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"
You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."
You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.
"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.
"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."
You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.
"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.
The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.
As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.
Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.
Crash!
The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.
You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.
You froze.
Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.
Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.
You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukunaâs heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.
Pink hair.
The backyard.
The jazz music.
The napkin.
A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.
The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.
When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.
"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yujiâs panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.
You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.
But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.
As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.
"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.
Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.
Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.
"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."
Sukunaâs mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.
"I fucking love you" he whispers
(not me me writing all night just for 36 like and one reblogđŁđđŸ)
đČđ» đđ”đ¶đ°đ” â° sukuna spends six months confessing his love through flowers and their hidden meanings, only to realize youâd kept every single one without ever knowing why he gave them to you.
âż ââ) ryomen sukuna đ gn!reader
đŹđŒđ»đđČđ»đ fluff, college!au, nerd flower!sukuna, yearning, acts of service as love language, friends to lovers, idiots in love, a lots of flower symbolism / hanakotoba, hand holding, kiss, sukuna is blushing!!, secretly romantic sukuna.
the campus greenhouse had always been sukuna's favorite place, which was something most people wouldn't expect if they only knew him from his reputation.
people only saw the sharp jawline, the permanent furrow between sukunaâs brows, the way his broad shoulders seemed to take up more space than any one person deserved. they heard his dry humor, his quick wit, the way he could cut someone down with nothing more than a glance and a few carefully chosen words. they didn't see him here, elbows braced against a worn wooden table, fingers gently tracing the petal of a peony like he was handling something sacred.
you watched him from across the table, chin propped in your palm, half-listening to the lecture he'd launched into about fifteen minutes ago; something about victorian flower language, about the way people used to say things they couldn't speak aloud through carefully arranged bouquets.
sukunaâs voice was lower than usual here, way softer, as if the greenhouse demanded a certain reverence that even ryomen sukuna couldn't ignore.
"âand the thing is," sukuna said, gesturing with the hand that wasn't currently cradling a potted orchid. "people think it's all just romantic bullshit, but it's not. it's practical, really. a way of communicating when the words won't come out right."
sukunaâs tattoos shifted when he moved, those dark lines that crawled up his forearms and disappeared beneath his sleeves. you'd always liked that about sukuna; the way the boy never bothered to hide them even when professors gave him pointed looks on the first day of classes.
he was all sharp edges and hard lines, but then he'd show up at your apartment with a sprig of lavender tucked behind his ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"you're not listening," sukuna said, but there was no accusation in it, just a statement of fact, accompanied by the faintest quirk of his lips.
"i am," you lied, sitting up straighter. "you were talking about... flowers saying things."
his eyes narrowed, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
"i was talking about specific meanings. symbolic language. there's a difference."
sukuna set down the orchid and reached for another pot, something small with delicate white blooms that you didn't recognize. his fingers were careful, deliberate, the same way they were when he rolled a cigarette or tied his shoelaces or did anything that required even the slightest bit of precision.
it was hard to reconcile this version of sukuna with the one who'd shoved his way through a crowd last week just to get to the front of the coffee shop line, all elbows and impatience and barely concealed irritation.
"this one," sukuna said, holding the pot up so you could see. "is stephanotis. it means marital happiness, but also a willingness to be led. which is stupid, honestly, because why the hell would anyone want to be led anywhere? but the victorians were weird about a lot of things."
you laughed, and something in his expression softened just enough that you almost missed it.
sukuna had been leaving you flowers for months now.
not in a romantic way, or at least you'd assumed it wasn't romantic because this was sukuna, and sukuna didn't do romance. he did late-night study sessions that turned into ordering pizza at two in the morning. he did stealing your clothes and pretending he hadn't noticed they were yours. he did showing up at your door with a single yellow tulip tucked behind his ear and then plucking it out to hand to you like it was nothing, like he hadn't just walked across campus with a flower in his hair and dared anyone to say something about it.
you'd kept all of them, pressed between the pages of textbooks you never opened anymore, tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror, dried and hanging from string tacked to your bedroom wall. there was something about the way he gave them to you; casual and offhand, like he'd just happened to find them and thought of you.
but sukuna never said why, he never explained the meaning behind any of them.
well, until now.
"so then you've got your roses, obviously," sukuna continued, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
the movement pulled his t-shirt taut across his shoulders, and you looked away before he could catch you staring.
"red for love, white for purity, yellow for friendship. but that's way too simple. anyone knows that. the real interesting stuff is the obscure ones."
the afternoon light filtered through the greenhouse glass, casting everything in a warm, golden, and beautiful haze. dust motes drifted between the two of you, slow and lazy, and a bee hummed somewhere in the corner, drunk on something sweet and pink that you couldn't name.
sukuna's voice washed over you like honey, and you found yourself sinking into it despite your best efforts to stay alert.
"like gardenias," he said, and your heart did something strange in your chest because he'd given you gardenias. three weeks ago, tucked into a mason jar on your desk after a particularly brutal exam week. you'd thought they were just pretty. "they mean secret love. the kind that can't be spoken aloud. which is dramatic as hell, but victorians loved drama almost as much as they loved repressed emotions."
he said it like a joke, like he was mocking the very concept, but his fingers had gone still on the table with no fidgeting, no gesturing; just stillness, and the way his gaze darted away from yours for a fraction of a second before snapping back.
you thought about the gardenias, pressed between pages 87 and 88 of your ancient history textbook, still faintly fragrant when you opened them.
"and peonies," sukuna went on, reaching for the plant he'd been touching earlier. "they've got a few meanings. shame, anger, but also romance and prosperity. it depends on the context, really. the victorians loved context, too."
a little pause.
"mostly, though, they symbolize a happy marriage. or a wish for one, anyway."
sukuna had given you peonies on your birthday. a whole bouquet of them, pink and lush and ridiculous, shoved into your arms with a gruff 'happy birthday, idiot' before he'd disappeared into the kitchen to make you dinner. you'd cried a little, though you'd blamed it on allergies.
your throat felt tight now, but you weren't sure why.
"basil is hatred," sukuna said, ticking off on his fingers now, counting down some internal list. "which is funny because it's also a cooking herb, so who knows what that says about italian grandmothers. ivy means fidelity. rosemary is remembrance. lavender is devotion, but also distrust, because again, context matters."
lavender. he'd left a sprig of lavender on your pillow last month after you'd fallen asleep on his couch.
you'd woken up to the smell of it, and to sukuna making coffee in the kitchen, humming something tuneless under his breath. you'd kept it tucked behind your ear for the rest of the day, and he'd looked at you differently after that; softer, maybe. or maybe you'd imagined it.
"what about camellias?" you asked, and sukunaâs hand paused mid-gesture.
your voice sounded strange to your own ears, thin in a way that had nothing to do with volume and everything to do with the way your heart was suddenly trying to escape your ribcage. because he'd given you camellias too. pink ones, tied with a bit of twine, left in your backpack after a study session two months ago. you'd found them while looking for a pen and spent the rest of the night trying not to overthink it.
sukuna's jaw tightened for just a fraction, just for a second, but you saw it because you were looking, because you were always looking, even when you told yourself not to.
"camellias," sukuna repeated, and the word came out rougher than the others. he cleared his throat. "they mean... longing. desire, mostly. but specifically the kind that's acknowledged and accepted. not secret like gardenias, not hopeful like peonies. just... wanted."
the silence that followed was heavy and thick with something unspoken. a bee buzzed, a leaf drifted down from one of the hanging plants, landing softly on the table between the two of you like a tiny green question mark.
you thought about all of it.
the tulips and the lavender, the gardenias and the peonies, the camellias and the stephanotis sukuna had given you just last week, white and fragile and tucked into your coat pocket. you thought about the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his voice softened when he said your name, the way he always, always made sure you ate even when you forgot, even when you were too tired or too stressed or too something to take care of yourself.
you thought about the yellow tulips he'd given you first, and what he'd just said about them meaning friendship, and how maybe that had been the beginning. maybe sukuna had started there on purpose, testing the waters, seeing if you'd accept something small and simple before moving on to gardenias and secrets and things left unsaid.
"why are you telling me this?" you asked, and your voice barely trembled at all.
sukuna's eyes met yours, and for once, there was nothing sharp in them. there was no challenge, no defense, no carefully constructed walls. there was just him, just ryomen sukuna, the biggest flower nerd you'd ever met with his flower meanings and his pressed specimens and his soft spot for things that grew from the dirt.
"because," sukuna said, and his ears were turning pink, actually pink, the color creeping down his neck and disappearing beneath his collar. "i've been leaving you flowers for six months, and you haven't said a single word about it. and i thought maybe you didn't know what they meant, and i couldn't decide if that was better or worse than you knowing and not saying anything anyway."
sukuna's hands were shaking slightly.
you'd never seen sukuna's hands shake before, not once in all the years you'd known him. he was always so steady, so sure, so infuriatingly composed, but now, his fingers were curled into loose fists on the table, and the faint tremor in them made something ache behind your sternum.
"so which is it?" sukuna asked, and his voice cracked on the last word. just a little. just enough. "did you know?"
you thought about the gardenias pressed in your textbook, the lavender behind your ear, the peonies on your birthday, the camellias in your backpack. you thought about the way you'd told yourself it didn't mean anything at all, that sukuna wasn't capable of meaning anything, that this was just something the boy did because he was strange like that and unpredictable and full of contradictions.
you thought about how badly you'd wanted to be wrong.
"i didn't know," you said, and something in sukuna's expression flickered, dimmed.
you reached across the table before he could pull away, before sukuna could retreat back behind whatever wall he was scrambling to rebuild. your fingers brushed his knuckles softly, and he went very, very still.
"i didn't know the meanings. but i kept all of them. every single one. they're in my apartment, sukuna. pressed into my textbooks and taped to my walls and stuffed into my jewelry box. i've been sleeping with lavender under my pillow for three weeks because i didn't want to lose the scent."
sukuna's breath caught; you heard it, the tiny hitch that he tried to disguise as a cough.
"that'sâ" sukuna started, but stopped, and then he swallowed. his throat worked around words that didn't seem to want to come out. "that's really fucking weird, actually. keeping flowers for months."
"you're one to talk," you said, and your lips curved into a smile that felt wobbly and fragile and too big for your face. "you're the one who gave them to me."
"yeah, well." his ears were still pink, spreading now to his cheekbones, and you'd never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life. "i'm in love with you, so it's different."
the words hung in the air between you, simple and devastating. there was no fanfare, and no dramatic pause, simply sukuna being sukuna, saying the thing he'd probably been trying to say for six months through petals and stems and carefully chosen blooms.
"you could have just told me," you said, and your voice was shaking now, but so were your hands, and so was he, so it didn't really matter.
"where's the fun in that?" he asked, but his voice was rough, and his eyes were bright, and when you squeezed his fingers, he squeezed back like he was afraid you'd disappear.
outside the greenhouse windows, the afternoon was fading into evening, gold bleeding into amber bleeding into the soft purple of early dusk. the bee had gone quiet, the leaves had stopped drifting, and the only sound was your breathing and his, mingling in the warm, humid air.
"i'm in love with you too," you said.
because it was true, because it had probably been true for longer than you wanted to admit, because sukuna was a nightmare and a softy and the biggest flower nerd you'd ever met, and you'd spent six months tucking his gifts between the pages of your life like pressed flowers of your own.
sukuna closed his eyes just for a moment, just long enough for you to see the way his shoulders dropped, the tension draining out of him like water from a cracked vase. when he opened them again, sukuna was smiling. a real smile, not the sharp-edged thing he showed the rest of the world, but something small and private and almost shy.
"good," sukuna said, and then, quieter; "i have more at my apartment. flowers, i mean. i was going to give them to you tomorrow, butâ" he shrugged, one shoulder lifting and falling. "seems like a waste to wait."
your heart turned over in your chest, sweet like honey.
"show me," you said, and when he stood up and offered you his hand, you took it without hesitation.
sukunaâs palm was warm against yours, calloused from god knows what, steady now that the worst part was over.
he led you out of the greenhouse and into the cooling evening, and neither of you let go, not even when the campus paths grew busy with other students, not even when someone whistled and sukuna flipped them off with his free hand, not even when you reached sukunaâs apartment and he had to fumble for his keys because he simply didn't want to release you long enough to find them.
his apartment smelled like him, like cedar and something floral you couldn't name.
there were flowers everywhere â on the kitchen counter, on the windowsill, in a vase on the coffee table that was definitely too small for the arrangement it held. you spotted roses and tulips and something dark purple you didn't recognize, and sukuna followed your gaze and went pink again.
"i might have gone overboard," sukuma admitted, finally letting go of your hand so he could gesture vaguely at the chaos. "i wasn't sure which ones you'd like best, so i just kind of... got all of them."
you walked over to the windowsill, running your finger along the edge of a potted plant you didn't recognize. it was green and leafy, unassuming, nothing like the showy blooms scattered around the room.
"what's this one?" you asked, turning back to look at him.
sukuna was standing in the middle of his own living room like he'd never seen it before, like he was seeing it through your eyes and finding it lacking. he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you'd never seen him make, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a murmur.
"basil," he said. "it means hatred, remember? i got it as a joke. thought it would be funny to have something that meant the opposite of everything else."
you laughed, and the sound seemed to break something loose in sukuna. he crossed the room in three long strides and stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to look at his face.
"i meant it, you know," sukuna said, and his hands hovered near your waist like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch. "every flower. every single one. i meant all of it."
"i know," you said, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands, feeling the slight roughness of his jaw beneath your palms. "i know now."
he kissed you then, soft and careful, like you were something precious he was afraid of breaking. his lips tasted like coffee and something sweet, and his hands finally settled on your hips, and the basil sat on the windowsill behind you, tiny and green and full of meaning.
when you pulled back, sukunaâs eyes were closed, his lashes dark against his flushed cheeks. he looked sweeter like this, softer, like all the sharp edges had been sanded away by the simple fact of being wanted back.
"i'm still mad you didn't look up the meanings," he said without opening his eyes. "six months. i could have just told you in the first week and saved myself a lot of anxiety."
"but then i wouldn't have gotten the flowers," you pointed out, and sukuna snorted, and you felt the vibration of it all the way down to your bones.
"i would have given you the flowers anyway," he said, finally opening his eyes. they were darker than usual, soft with something you were learning to recognize. "i probably would have given you flowers even if you'd laughed in my face. it's a problem, really. my therapist would have a field day."
you laughed again, and sukuna smiled again, and the evening stretched out before you both, full of possibility and pressed flowers and the quiet understanding that some things didn't need to be spoken aloud to be true.
but it didn't hurt, you thought, as sukuna pulled you toward his couch and wrapped his arms around you like he'd been waiting his whole life to do it.
the only shocking thing about ryomen sukuna was that he was a surprisingly good boyfriend. like, embarrassingly good to you.
he was still the occasional dickhead, obviously. but at least he nice about it. he always went at your pace, never pushed when you got shy or overwhelmed, never made you feel stupid for needing reassurance. hell, he even showed up with a bouquet of lilies for your first âofficialâ date with him.
and the date itself wasnât anything extravagant either. no fancy rooftop reservation, no over the top attempt to sweep you off your feet. just a quiet little restaurant tucked between buildings, warm lighting spilling across wooden tables while soft music played somewhere overhead.
simple. intimate. perfect for you.
a secluded booth in the corner, sukuna sitting across from you with an unfairly soft look in his eyes whenever you got shy and toyed with your food.
and you were doing fairly well. right up until the date ended that is.
because now here you were, heart hammering violently against your ribs, butterflies wrecking your stomach as you hurried, nearly ran, toward your apartment door, leaving behind one very confused sukuna standing a few steps away.
which, in hindsight, probably wasnât the smoothest way to end a date with your boyfriend.
âoi.â
you froze with your hand on your purse, about to reach for your keys, head snapping up at his voice as he made his way toward you, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
you turned your head slowly, eyes trailing up his tall frame, though looking at him only made things worse; his pink, coral strands faintly glowing under the streetlight, tan skin catching the light, black markings accentuating the sharpness of his features.
yeah. you didnât stand a chance.
â. . . what?â
he scoffed. âwhat?â he mimicked under his breath, head tilting slightly, eyes sharp and fixed on you. âyou forgetting something?â
your brain only buffered, eyes darting between his face and everything else: left, right, anywhere but him. âno..?â â humming under your breath as you dug through your purse.
lip gloss.
receipt.
wires.
a sonny angel, for some reason . . ?
everything but your keys.
normally, you werenât this awkward. you just werenât used to this. dates with people you actually found attractive. emotionally. intellectually. physically. romantically. sexuallyâ
âyou regret cominâ out with me?â
oh . . .Â
for a second you almost forgot he was there. well not really. sure, you tuned him out but you could definitely feel him. you could never really ignore ryomen sukuna; the sound of his breathing, the shift of his weight, his presence pressing against your senses, it was all there.
âwhat?â you blurted, finally looking at him in the eye.
sukuna leaned against the wall beside your door, pink hair shifting against his forehead, his expression unreadable, save for the faint amusement in his eyes.
âyou heard me.â
your brows knitted together, mouth opening, then closing, before finally speaking: ânoâŠâ, your voice coming out a soft whisper.
his slitted eyebrow only cocked up at you, a faint laugh escaping his throat. âno?â the single word rolled off his tongue slowly, thick with amusement as he watched you, heat crawling higher up your neck under his stare, your movements growing clumsier the longer he looked at you.
âyouâve been digginâ through that bag for, what, five minutes now. plus you nearly jumped outta a moving vehicle.â he continued lazily, pushing himself off the wall beside your door. âit makes a man wonder.â
âiâm not doing anything,â you said, quieter now, finally meeting his eyes for half a second before looking away again. âyouâre the one who keeps staring me down.â
âmm,â he hummed, âso, lookinâ at youâs the issue.â his eyes flickering over your face once more, slow and unhurried. âthat right?â
well, yes, that was part of the problem. but it wasnât thee problem. because the actual problem was much worse. the actual problem was that you liked sukuna. like. like-liked. and he liked you too.
âwell, no! i justââăă what an insufferable man. ăăâi really liked going out with you,â voice going a mile a minute before taking a deep breath, lacing your fingers together in front of you, fidgeting under his gaze. âi loved it.. actually.. iâm not trying to run from you or anything.â
âjust nervous.â
ânervous?â he repeats after you, the word foreign on his tongue, âthatâs what weâre callinâ it? youâre just embarrassed âcause youâve got it bad for your boyfriend.â
your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, heat flooding your face all at once. âwhat?! no! donât put words in my mouth.â you blurt, your hand flying up to shove his chest with a dull thud.
sukuna only lets out a low laugh before his hand comes up quickly to close around your wrist mid motion; his grip gentle but firm, holding you there as his other hand stays buried in his pocket. barely trying.
âso⊠you gonna say bye properly now?â
you gulp, your hand relaxing in his soft grip. âwell⊠how do you want me to say bye?â
sukuna doesnât answer, instead, he gently lowers your hand between you, scarlet eyes locking onto your softer, pliant eyes.
âyour call.â
and the space between you two seems to freeze, soft silence of the night stretching between the two of you. easy on his end, unbearable on yours.
âwâwellâŠâ your eyes flick between his for a second before betraying you entirely, dipping down to his lips without meaning to. âiââ you huff. your throat feels dry, yet it feels unreasonable. sukuna wouldnât judge you, you hope.
âi wanna kiss you⊠goodbye...â
âplatonically,â you added after a moment.
. . .
his brows lifted slowly.
âyou wanna kiss me. platonically?â
âum.â your voice came out smaller than intended. âyes.â
âyeah? and iâm sure those pretty little eyes of yours are lookinâ at me real platonically too.â
âthat too.â
silence.
then sukuna hummed low in his throat, all amusement, already taking a step back.
âah. got it.â he turned slightly, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. âwell, in that caseâ have a nice night.â
your eyes widened immediately. âwaitââ
he kept walking.
not far. just enough to be annoying.
âsukunaaa,â you whined, hurrying after him before your fingers caught around his forearm, dragging him back to your doorstep. ânot like that.â
a soft huff escapes him, his mouth quirking upwards, canines softly refracting the dim light â not quite a smile, but rather satisfaction. âhm?â he glanced down at your hand on his arm. âso now itâs not like that?â
your grip tightens for a second before you realize it and quickly loosen your hand, heat rushing straight to your face. âiâno, i meanâjustâdonât pretend you donât know what i meanâŠâ
his gaze flicks over your face for a second, slow and unreadable, before he scoffs âyouâre the one makinâ it complicated.â
âshut up,â you mutter instantly, but thereâs no real bite to it, just embarrassment as you finally tug him a little closer.
his hand comes up, settling near your jaw, thumb resting against your warm cheek. your fingers catch lightly at the front of his shirt as you rise onto your toes.
before you could overthink, your lips meet his.
itâs quick. chaste. shy even.
his eyes flutter shut a moment after, his free hand coming out of his pocket to steady you by the waist, warm and heavy, yet restrained, seeping through your clothes.
he doesnât kiss you back immediately, letting you mold against him. he tilted his head, lips pressing gently against yours; warm, and embarrassingly sweet.
you pull off his lips slowly, a hesitant look in your eyes, your breath catching lightly as you settle back down flat on your feet, hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt.
your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could hear it. did he like it? did he think you were a bad kisser? to be fair, you didnât kiss many people. or often. but what ifâ
âhell,â he mutters, like he didnât expect that, âyou even kiss cute. kinda sweet.â
you pant, âwhat does that even mean?â
his gaze flicks back to your mouth and the slight furrow of your eyebrows.
the way your fingers still cling lightly to his shirt, the shy warmth clinging to your skin, even that stupid little clip tucked into your hair.
a quiet exhale leaves him through his nose, almost a laugh.
yeah. annoyingly cute.
âwhyâre you always askinâ obvious questions?â
he lets out a soft laugh, leaning down slightly to your height. âiâm annoying?â
you only nod, biting down on the plush of your lip before looking away again, suddenly very interested in anything but him.
except before you could give an actual rebuttal, his lips meet yours deeper this time, no longer testing the waters. still gentle, but an unspoken certainty lingering in the way he kissed you. his mouth warm against yours, moving slow and unhurried, giving you all the time in the world to keep up, hell, even backout if you wanted to, the space between you disappearing.
his hand shifts from your waist up to your jaw, cradling your face and simply holding you in place for the moment. his other arm staying firm at your side, keeping you close without pulling too hard, steadying your wobbly steps against him.
you swallow down a gasp before your eyes slip shut, your nose bumping lightly against his, the angle a little awkward, a little clumsy, yet perfectly you.
it only makes him breathe out something softer against your mouth, amused, as if itâs exactly what he expected from you.
the kiss deepens for a few more seconds â slow, and warm â until it didnât feel like teasing anymore. just a need held taut beneath careful restraint.
then he pulls back just slightly, just enough for air, his thumb still lingering at your cheek, in no rush to let you go.
âokay . . . was that . . a good goodbye?â you murmur, breathless, still a little dazed as you finally force yourself to step back.
he lets out a low âhmâ under his breath, his thumb dragging lightly against your cheek. âyeah. it was good.â
âsâpose i can let you go now.â removing his hands from your sides, drawing a small, inward pout from you.
your hands went back to your purse, fingers already digging through it againâuntil sukuna stopped you.
âhere.â
you pause.
and there they were.
your keys, dangling right in front of your face from his fingers with a soft jingle, cute, colorful keychains swinging in the quiet night air. you gasp before snatching them immediately.
âyou bastard! you saw me looking for them!â
he lets out a soft huff of laughter, not even trying to defend himself. âyou dropped them while you were busy runninâ from me,â he hums, shifting his weight back against the brick wall beside him, a faint, sly smirk settling in on that stupidly handsome face of his, âwhen i asked if you forgot somethinâ, you said no.â
you scoff before rolling your eyes, âwell! i thought you were talking about saying bye?!â
his gaze flicks over you, steady and thoroughly amused. âtwo things can be true at once.â
you make a small sound of frustration and snatch the keys tighter in your hand, glaring up at him through your lashes anyway.
ââŠthanks,â you mutter.
ââŠgo on,â he murmurs, voice low. âbefore i change my mind and keep you right here.â
and you knew he wasnât joking. that man was about one breath from devouring you right then and there.
you turn quickly, fumbling with the lock, the soft jingle of your keys echoing in the stillness, his presence still radiating from behind you. his gaze dropped briefly to your hands . . .
âyou alright?â
âyes.â
âyouâve missed your keyhole three times now.â
âi know!â you shoot back immediately.
the door unlocked with a soft click, warm light spilling out into the hallway.
â okay . . . â you hummed.
âokay,â he repeated, looking down at you expectantly, waiting for you to head inside.
but instead, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist.
a low, rough laugh rumbled out of him before his arms circled around you instantly, strong biceps trapping your head against his chest. his scent, a deep, clean mix of cologne, so distinctly him, filling up your senses and making your head feel all dizzy.
despite his rough exterior, sukuna was soft, surprisingly so. maybe it was the steady weight of his chest against your body, or maybe it was the quiet way he held you that made it hard to think. either way.
you liked it.
you pulled away first with a small cough and an awkward straightening of your clothes, cheeks warm enough to burn through metal.
âokay! umâ bye, sukuna,â you blurted awkwardly, already backing toward your apartment door.
except your shoulder clipped the doorframe on the way in.
âfuckââ
you fumbled with the handle in a panic before practically stumbling inside. âbye! goodnight!â
and then, youâre gone.
the door shutting a little too hard behind you, a muffled âow!â coming from behind the door.
outside, sukuna exhales through his nose, shaking his head as the corner of his mouth curled upward.
ââŠyeah,â he murmurs to himself. âthat tracks.â
Hii !! This isn't at all meant to come across as rude, but I genuinely would like to know what you see in sukugo as a ship?
I ask this because I think your art is so beautiful and cute and amazing, but I personally don't know much about the ship. I just wanna know more from sukugo shippers on why they see love between the two characters? Unless it's like a "just for fun" thing, which is also totally cool lol
Sorry if this comes across as rude I just genuinely love your art and you seem to love the ship a lot so I figured you may be interested in explaining why you like the ship
the shortest answer i could give is i see love between sukugo because gege puts it there. as in they are the two characters that has "love" being a main theme spelled out by the narrator in a whole arc centering around them .
(it's also æ ai, not even the æ koi one. gege used the kanji for unconditional, selfless, true love in that "the one to teach you about love" line)
but if you're interested in a longer explanation this has lore that traces all the way back to mid-2022 when elden ring came out, i had a post where i said i wished gojo had a redhead love interest to make a Rebis symbol with him. never in a million years i expected gege to actually make that real with shinjuku showdown đ
Rebis, also known as Red king & White queen marriage, symbolises the intermingling of red sulphur with white mercury to create perfect gold. It's the unification of opposing qualities in alchemy. this is reflected not just in sukuna and gojo's character design, but their whole character arc and thematic relevance to each other.
yap session ahead
their domains: domain expansion is a sorcererâs manifestation of their inner mental landscape and Sukuna and Gojo's meld together perfectly. For a while the omniscient cosmos acts as the cradle for an uncaring shrine, blue starry sky meeting the red blood sea.
Thousands of years and the only domain that is compatible with Malevolent Shrine is Unlimited Void, to the point that when Gojo died, Sukuna couldn't deploy his domain for a whole while and when he got it back, Yuta- the patron saint of mutual love in the verse, wore Gojo skin to run in back again.
Sukuna could deploy his domain without barrier which is unimaginable to other sorcerers cuz itâs like painting without a canvas. A king that conquers all just like the all-consuming purifying fire that he wields. Meanwhile Gojo could make the barrier of his domain so tiny itâs also unimaginable to others because they couldnât imagine being trapped in such a small space. Gojo did because he has also folded into himself for the sake of those he loves his entire life.
They are both doing such advanced techniques to the power system thatâs out of reach for everyone else, but they are also doing it in the opposite direction of each other, in a way thatâs reflective of their life philosophy. Two equals standing at two polar axis.
their approach to becoming strong: they are both jujutsu nerds, but Sukuna's thirst for knowledge & self-improvement is in service to himself, while Satoru seeks to give knowledge & encourages growth in his students. If his community is strong, he is strong. Therefore in that month of preparation before the big fight, Gojo was shown training Yuta & Yuuji rather than digging more on Sukuna.
How they approach life and make their choices is a mirror to their own personal stories & struggle. It's these little push & pull of meanings that makes them so compelling as a pair.
There's a meta commentary here about how since Sukuna kept possessing Gojoâs students & gaining their memories, whether he knew he was doing it or not, he reacts to/ follow the lessons Gojo gave out. Him using Gojoâs hand sign & techniques later on is also a part of this larger theme that Gojo had unwittingly been like a teacher to him too. It makes the âthe one to teach you about loveâ âI want him to understandâ lines hit even harder.
I elaborate more here on why Sukuna's upbringing and curse is its own can of worm that makes his interaction with Gojo so poweful. Gojo who kept rescuing cursed children and protecting them is the kind of protective figure Sukuna never had, and I always felt like a part of Sukuna's resentment to the students and Yuuji in particular does stem from that (i do understand if ppl say this is a reach, but !! i'd like to show you guys the character that i believe is one of the main inspiration Gege took to develop Sukuna:
yes, the main character from the BL Gege once recommend The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window. when his love interest chose to protect innocent civillains instead of him (because he's already strong), he literally asked "why protect them, and not me?")
fish metaphor: the fish imagery in the sukugo fight is always so peak since ningyo flesh in japanese mythology is said to grant immortality + the "scale of the dragons" incantation in sukuna's world slash is a throwback to the fish scales lines. there are layers to this:
according to the myth of Four Divine Beasts in Sinosphere culture, control over dragon grants one's control over aquatic life, specifically fish
there's also the myth of a determined koi fish that swims upstream and is rewarded by the God to become a dragon. it's one way to show how Satoru transforms from a nameless fish to a dragon in Sukuna's eyes throughout the fight. which, again, runs another parallel to the alchemy imagery where the royal beast lion transforms into its true form after a dragonâs death, like Sukuna did after Gojo died.
you see how many parallels and analysis we can have of the sukugo fight with just one line here? it's how gege crafted this fight with such concise and powerful imagery that makes it go so hard.
gege has always been building up to sukuna vs gojo since the beginning: probably a hot take, but to me sukugo chemistry is what JJK0, the very first 3 chapters & HI arc built up to đ (their fight is literally a constant throwback to their first meeting)
âlove to the strongâ âa curse must be exorcised using another curseâ âlove is the most twisted curse of allâ being centered around Gojo means the biggest fight of his life, the one heâd put his everything into would ofc be him facing off someone he wants to convey such a thing to.
The line Geto said about being jealous in that airport was there for a reason. The recognition & affirmation of âlove to the strongâ that Gojo showed Sukuna was what he wanted. But then he got blindsided right after when Gojo said if heâd been there with the students cheering him on, Gojo would have been satisfied too, cuz once again Geto got a reminder that Gojoâs love wasnât just about strength, but community & support of all the âflowersâ in his life as well.
THAT is the type of love Gojo was trying to show Sukuna. The understanding & sympathy, never stop seeing humanity even in the âmonstrousâ. The type of kindess Sukuna wasnât graced with as a child, leading to the cursed existence he was trapped in now. Hell, the first line we got about how Sukuna used to be a human was from Gojo himself!
When everyone thought of Sukuna in fear and hatred, the Sukuna in Gojo's eyes to the bitter end is never a malicous grinning calamity, but someone calm and dignified with his gaze forwards. And despite thinking Sukuna could not reciprocate his feelings in kind, he gave Sukuna everything.
meanwhile mr yearnatron3000 Sukuna over here already sees Gojo as a goal to reach since the beginning:
after Gojo died he legit started comparing everyone else to him and thinking in terms of "me and gojo satoru vs anyone else"
(if i write about the meaning behind the incantations of World-Bisecting Slash, this would become a real manifesto, so please see this here. basically, Sukuna made Gojo's whole existence a part of his technique. if that's not the most romantic thing in the world idk what is)
side note from character design perspective: the spelling of Six Eyes is "Rikugan" and sometimes it's used as a title to refer to Gojo (the same way Ryomen is for Sukuna). so we have: Ryomen (Two Faces) - Rikugan (Six Eyes) / Sukuna - Satoru.
what i mean is in a roundabout way sukugo do have matching initials
marketing from JUMP and song lyrics be like: in the the JUMP promo video for vol 25 (which they have private now for some reasons... but i think it's because they are fr going to make the sukugo fight anime rollout the biggest blast ever), they have a banner that coins Sukuna and Gojo as "the existence of an equal"
be it a demon god or a child prodigy, ultimate strength comes with solitude. the only thing they have yet to obtain is an existence equal to themselves. so, how long will you entertain me now?
they also have some crazy contrasting wordplay to introduce them:
éŹŒç„ (demon god) / ç„ç«„ (child prodigy) -> share the same ç„ (divine)
In the soundtrack of the JJK Phantom Parade game (Avant by Eve - came out a few months after the sukugo fight), the lyrics âmy yearning towards you alone cuts through space like a heartfelt wishâ is always accompanied by Sukuna and Gojo imagery:
for the âlike a wishâ phase, the word is ćžă which has a very beseeching and imploring connotation, so it reads like being able to cut through space and reach that unique person is all heâs ever wanted. Eve cooked like crazy with this ngl
and in JJK Modulo, Gege made "wish" an actual manifestation of a technique possessed by Maru and Cross - the alien twins that everyone jokes that they look like Sukuna and Gojo's lovechild.
talking about lyrics, here are the character songs gege picked out for sukuna and gojo... idk what to even comment on this đ
that concludes my presentation on why sukugo changes my brain chemistry (i think). there are more obvious ones like "cut me open and see my love buried in this flesh", the legendary "you were magnificent/ cleared my sky", etc... but i want to touch more on the less discussed imagery here.
i hope this could offer you a great look in the very normal brain of a sukugo-pilled person !! thank you for liking my art and giving the ship a chance !  âž(ïœĄË á” Ë )âžâĄÂ
summary: In which frat!gojo (whoâs closeted nerd!gojo) falls for a girl without knowing itâs frat!sukunaâs "girl" (not entirelly). gymrat!reader, nerd!reader, mean!reader (sometimes, mainly with gojo), biker!reader, biker!sukuna, fwb!sukuna (I had a stroke writing this description)Â slowburn, some smut at some point and fluff
This is my first smau :3
Some context before reading the story:
A smau mixed with drabbles.
I like frat!jo and nerd!jo, and I have a hc that Gojo would actually be both. So I thought, why not mix them?
gojo and reader both study physics and astrophyics. They're 2nd years
reader shares a flat with Itadori, Megumi and Nobara who are 1st years in their respective studies
reader met sukuna at the gym when she was a 1st year
reader rides a customized black and purple kawasaki ninja 400
sukuna rides a black and red ducati streetfighter
reader is ripped
reader can be a bit antisocial at times
reader is quite lazy when it comes to studies, she's happy with a 5. fortunately, she's quite smart
reader is quite the nerd and gamer. she's not ashamed or embarrassed by it, has a good self-esteem and does not care about people's opinions on her
frat gojo is a closeted nerd who is embarrassed of others discovering
a sourness curls his face at your audacity. his next word is uttered with an edge, âbeloved.â
⊠that clearly has no rival to your sharpness. âsylus?â
taken aback, he blinks. but stands firm in what he demands. this thirst needing to be quenched. his presence needing attention. âcome cuddle.â
in the tension of name calling, you didnt know youâve held your breath so deeply. and at the revelation, you release with a fond and slightly irked sigh. âlater, sy. okay?â
âyouâve been rearranging the living room for two hours.â he points out, following you as you take off once again.
âand i left you a chair with a table to rest on.â
âand what shall i do with those, hm?â
âi donât know,â you turn to look at his corner. amongst the mess of unattended and jumbled furniture in the middle of your living room, it seemed like a perfect haven. âmaintain your gun?â
he scoffs in disbelief. âi suppose youâll get me a tv next to get me out of your hair.â
thats not a bad idea, actually. âwould you like that?â
âno.â he deadpans.
âokay, then back to your gun.â
he almost laughs were it not for you trying to escape again. walking off to the storage room to get more things. and you admit, itâs a lot. but owning a house is a lot. and you just want the space to be usable and comfy and worthy of love.
âangel,â he sighs, finally grabbing onto your shoulders and halting you. forcingâ no, begging you to see him. âiâm here.â
âand the house is a mess,â you frown. frustrated, the edges of your vision blur. heâs wrong, youâve been working on this house for days. and still, on the very day you looked forward to him visiting, it isnât ready. and youâre fed up, and exhausted and humiliated for letting him stay here no matter how many times he insists he doesnât mind. âyouâre here. and itâs a mess!â
he frowns. âam i getting in your way?â
what an atrocious thing to make him think. âno! noâŠâ you sniffle, holding his face in your hands and caressing the contours of his cheekbones to ground yourself. ânot at all, i didnât mean it like that.â
he leans to your touch, lips kissing the center of your palm. âthen?â
you look around. piles of trinkets unkempt, pillows strewn about, the carpets crumpled, tables and chairs scattered like a disaster after a hurricane. âi just⊠i thought iâd be done by nowâand that i could welcome you to something⊠nicer than this.â
he purses his lips. wipes your tears. âah.â
âwould you like me to go?â he asks, brushing wild strands of hair out of your face.
âno,â you admit, fingers weighing heavier on his skin.
âcan i help?â
you bite your cheek. âi canât ask that of you.â
he snorts in amusement, catching your gaze. âwhy not?â
âyouâre my guest.â you insist, like its an obvious fact.
âand your partner.â he counters, chuckling. âi didnât think youâd have trouble with bossing me around. you do it so much when weâre inââ
âthatâs!â you shush him, pressing panicked palms to his face to shut his pie hole. âenough!â
heâs all giggles now that youâre flustered. âthe house is beautiful. youâre doing a great job, and i like being here. done or not.â
your heart is butter under the warmth of his words and you spare him a small smile. âyou mean that?â
âanywhere is home as long as youâre there.â he reiterates sincerely, pulling you closer. he glances at the mess. âthis is nothing. we lived in a cave once.â
you are bright when you laugh and he revels in your luminance. your fondness now felt in the breath you take, âi remember.â
and heâs glad you do.
ânowâŠâ his fangs glisten when he grins. knowing that heâs captured your heart and will give him at least a sliver of a chance. he leans, pressing his lips on your mouth. he melts when you kiss him back, draping himself over you.
you pull away chuckling at his eagerness. âwhat are you even here for?â
his brow quirks at your teasing inquiry, and the corners of his lips curl at the simple answer. âiâm here for cuddles.â
trying to redeem yourself after your workplace embarrassment, you try to get sylus back! it doesn't go exactly as planned..
recently, it had felt like nothing but war at onichynus' base.
as the unfortunate bystanders of you and sylus' war, luke and kieran had been forced to watch your pettiness and their boss' amusement every single day.
"kitten-" you rushed past sylus without a single glance his way, refusing to meet his amused gaze. "come back-"
the twins could only share a glance as you stormed past, watching their usually stoic boss trying not to laugh as he followed after you.
"kitten.." that infuriating nickname, one that sylus was insisting on using even more now and one you were refusing to respond to. he kept calling it over and over, but you didn't budge.
it was only when he reluctantly called you "sweetie" that you turned to him, a smug smile on your lips. "yes, sylus?"
"oh, don't be like that." he reached out to take you into his arms, but you merely pulled away. pouting, he crossed his arms instead, watching you with a tilt of his head. "are you still upset? it's been two weeks."
"i can barely manage to look tara and simone in the eye." you deadpanned, huffing. "now come on, we have an auction to get to."
even then, he wouldn't know your grand plan. you were going to get him back, and it was going to be glorious.
he was distracted when you decided to do your ploy. too busy striking deals with important people, he didn't notice you sliding up beside him until your hand went across his chest, an overly dramatic pout on your lips.
"syyyy," you whined, pressing yourself against him. "when will this be overrr?? i wanna go home and.." you leaned in, whispering loud enough that the men could hear you, ".. be good for you, daddy."
stunned. sylus was stunned as you pulled back, that mischievous grin on your lips as you slipped away. you were proud of yourself, happy that you finally managed to embarrass him too.
he was quick to usher you out of the auction a couple minutes later, and you were smug as you slid into the car with him. "hah, i got you good!-"
only to pause when you saw the flustered look on his face, those red eyes of his swallowed by black pupils as he stared at you. a tense silence passed before you spluttered.
".. were you seriously into that??-"
"just put your seatbelt on, sweetie." he cleared his throat, looking away from you, "we need to get home."
and even if he looked like a fool in front of potential business partners, he was more than happy to show you at home why you should be the one embarrassed instead.
â„ the boundary â„ you and your âfriendâ gojo are having a wholesome movie night until you say something you probably shouldnât have ăȘ
cw: fluff. and a touch of yearning.
ââââàšà§ââââ
the lazy smiles,
the lingering touches,
the way he leaned too close when he talked like personal space had simply never applied to him.
you tried not to think too deeply about it.
because if you did, youâd start wanting things you probably shouldnât.
but you couldnât help it - not with him sitting so close to you that you can hear his soft, controlled breaths.
âyouâre staring again,â he mused.
his blindfold had been pushed up messily into his hair, revealing those impossible blue eyes already fixed on you knowingly.
âmaybe because you keep talking during the movie.â
âmultitasking,â he corrected proudly, mouth full of candy.
you snorted.
the late-night glow of the apartment softened everything around him: silver hair, long limbs stretched across your couch, the faint sheen of city lights against his skin.
pretty.
so painfully pretty.
gojo suddenly held out the last gummy worm toward you.
âhere,â he sighed. âbecause iâm generous. and because youâve been eyeing up my snacks all night,â
âsatoru,â you laughed quietly, taking it from his delicate fingers. âyouâre so sweet. i love it.â
the words slipped out naturally.
but the second they landed, something shifted.
his smile faltered.
just slightly.
small enough that anyone else probably wouldnât have noticed.
you did.
gojo stared at you for a moment too long before looking away toward the flickering television.
âdonât say stuff like that so easily,â he murmured.
the teasing in his voice had disappeared completely.
your chest tightened a little.
âsay what?â
he leaned back against the couch slowly, eyes half-lidded now, thoughtful in a way that almost looked dangerous.
âthat you love things about me.â
quiet.
the movie continued playing pointlessly in the background.
you swallowed.
âi didnât mean to-â
âi know,â he interrupted softly.
that somehow felt worse.
because for once, satoru gojo wasnât smiling like he could joke his way out of the conversation.
he looked almost solemn - like he was holding something heavy behind his teeth.
his gaze drifted back toward you again, unbearably intense beneath the dim apartment lighting.
âyou say things like that,â he said quietly, âand i start thinking maybe i actually have a chance with you.â
the air left your lungs completely and you struggled to find the words to respond to that vulnerable confession with.
and then
that stupid grin returned.
slowly.
crooked.
beautiful.
âwhich is kinda cruel, yâknow?â he sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. âyouâve got me suffering over here.â
nerd!kuna clinging to you like the needy little bastard that he is.
fluff
sukunaâs glasses were always crooked, perpetually sliding down the bridge of his ridiculous nose because he refused to get them adjusted, choosing instead to aggressively shove them back up with his middle finger like some sort of aggressive anime antagonist who just calculated the exact trajectory of your downfall.
sukuna was, by all societal standards, an absolute menace to the public. he was the kind of guy who would look at a professorâs doctoral thesis, snort, and point out a formatting error in the bibliography just to watch the manâs soul leave his body. he had a tongue like a razor blade and an ego that could easily collapse under its own gravitational pull. people avoided him in the hallways like he was carrying a highly contagious strain of the bubonic plague.
but right now? right now, the terrifying, sharp-tongued academic tyrant was currently sitting on your bedroom floor, his massive frame folded into an impossibly small pretzel shape, looking up at you with the big, watery eyes of a golden retriever that had just been told it was banned from the couch forever.
âplease,â he muttered, his voice dropping into a raspy, pathetic register that would have shocked his classmates into actual cardiac arrest. âjust five more minutes. let me finish the chemistry module for you. youâre going to mess up the stoichiometry, i know you are, your brain literally short-circuits when there are more than three variables.â
you didnât even look up from your phone, merely shifting your leg to lightly tap the tip of your fuzzy sock against his shoulder. ââkuna. what did i say about insulting my cognitive abilities while begging for my attention?â
the reaction was instantaneous. a shudder ran through his entire spine, his shoulders dropping as if you had just physically drained the battery out of his system. it was honestly hilarious how fast the bravado evaporated. this man could argue a literal judge into a corner, yet one tiny, unimpressed glance from you turned him into a heap of useless mush.
âi wasnât insulting you,â he scrambled to say, his hands twitching over his mechanical pencil. he looked so profoundly desperate, his hair messy where heâd been aggressively running his fingers through it all afternoon. âitâs a statistical fact. a data-driven observation. but iâll stop. iâll shut up. just donât move your foot.â
heaven forbid he lose the absolute luxury of being your makeshift footrest.
people at school always whispered about how you survived being around him. they assumed he was some kind of overbearing, controlling brute who probably lectured you on astrophysics until your ears bled. little did they know, the reality was so sickeningly sweet it would give a dentist a stroke. sukuna didnât boss you around; he lived to be bosses around by you. he was a certified, card-carrying servant to your every whim, completely paralyzed by the mere concept of your affection.
âi need a snack,â you announced casually, tossing your phone onto the mattress.
before the sentence had even fully cleared your lips, sukuna was already on his feet. he practically launched himself into the air like heâs programmed exclusively for your convenience. his chair scraped loudly against the floorboards, and his glasses flew off his face entirely, clattering onto your rug.
âiâll get it,â he said breathlessly, completely ignoring his lack of vision as he squinted down at you. âwhat do you want? chips? those ridiculous yogurt with chocolate cereal that you like? i bought three packs of them yesterday because the grocery store had a sale and i calculated that your dopamine levels drop by twelve percent on thursdays.â
you stared at him, a slow, amused smile spreading across your face. âyouâre staring at the wall, âkuna. your glasses are by your foot.â
he fumbled around blindly, his face flushing a spectacular, furious shade of crimson that extended all the way to the tips of his ears. once he shoved the frames back onto his face, he refused to meet your eyes, stubbornly looking at your pillows instead. âi knew that. i was testing the structural integrity of your wall.â
âsure you were. câmere.â
the command was soft, barely a whisper, but it had the exact same effect as a leash being yanked. sukuna practically melted, his knees giving out as he dropped heavily onto the edge of your bed. the weight of him divoted the mattress, but he made himself as small as humanly possible, hovering just inches away from you like a moth resisting the urge to throw itself directly into a raging bonfire.
he was so ridiculously large compared to you, a towering wall of muscle and bad attitude that somehow shrank into a puddle of warm wax whenever you reached out. you wrapped your fingers around the collar of his oversized, slightly stained hoodiesâhe always smelled like old library books and expensive coffeeâand pulled him down.
sukuna let out a pathetic, low whine in the back of his throat, burying his face directly into the crook of your neck. his nose nudged against your collarbone, his hot breath tickling your skin as he inhaled deeply, as if he were trying to memorize your exact molecular structure. his large hands hovered awkwardly in the air, trembling slightly, before he cautiously rested them on your waist, squeezing just enough to anchor himself but gentle enough that he might as well have been holding a piece of wet tissue paper.
âyouâre warm,â he mumbled, his voice completely muffled by your skin. all the sarcasm, all the biting mockery he utilized as a shield against the rest of the world, was completely gone. he was just a boy who loved you so much it clearly physically pained him. âstay still. if you move, iâll fail my coding assignment on purpose.â
âno you wonât. your academic perfectionism wouldnât let you,â you teased, running your fingers through his soft, undercut hair.
he groaned, the sound vibrating directly against your chest. âthen iâll delete the professorâs database. donât test me. iâm a desperate man.â
âyou really are,â you laughed, tilting his chin up so you could look at him.
up close, without the glare of his laptop screen reflecting off his lenses, he looked incredibly soft. his eyelashes were thick, casting shadows over his sharp eyes that were currently wide and dilated, staring at your lips with a terrifying level of devotion. it was the kind of look that made your stomach do a backflipâa raw, unadulterated hunger that was entirely domestic. he looked at you the way an ancient astronomer might look at a newly discovered galaxy, completely awestruck and entirely out of his depth.
âcan i kiss you?â he asked, his voice cracking slightly. it was a question he asked a thousand times a day, always terrified that he was somehow overstepping, always needing that explicit confirmation that he was allowed to touch you.
âobviously, you idiot.â
sukuna might have been a disaster at small talk, but he possessed an terrifyingly precise memory, and he had memorized exactly how you liked to be kissed down to the millisecond. he tilted your head back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip, his lips moving against yours with a slow, agonizing sweetness that made your toes curl. he tasted like the sweet tea youâd shared earlier, and he kissed you like you were the only source of oxygen left on a dying planet.
he pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing shallow. âi fuckinâ hate everyone else,â he whispered against your lips, a sudden, fierce rush of affection making his grip on your waist tighten. âtheyâre all so painfully stupid. but you... youâre perfect. itâs infuriating how much i need you to like me.â
âi do like you,â you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him back down. âeven when youâre a snob.â
âiâm not a snob, iâm just statistically superior to the general population,â he mumbled, though there was absolutely no bite to it as he eagerly met your lips again, completely surrendered to the absolute chaos of being entirely yours.
[ SYNOPSIS ] â You try to be the "perfect" partner to Megumi by hiding your own needs and pain so you wouldnât be a nuisance. This habit becomes dangerous when you get badly hurt on a mission and lie about it, leading to a tearful confrontation when he finds you bleeding in secret. w.c: 4.8k
[ PAIRING ] â megumi fushiguro x people pleaser!reader
[ TAGS ] â gn!reader, established relationship, canon compliant (?), hidden injury, blood, reassurance, hurt/comfort, use of [Name] once, megumi is a sweetheart as usual. Lmk if I missed anything!
â"You wouldn't mind taking care of these mission reports for me, would you? You're a lifesaver!"
âSatoru Gojo didn't even pause to wait for an answer, dropping a stack of heavily redacted, coffee-stained files onto your already cluttered desk. His iconic blindfold was pushed up, a devastatingly charming smile plastered across his faceâthe kind of smile that made it entirely impossible for anyone to refuse him.
âYour head was pounding. A dull, rhythmic thud echoed right behind your eyes, a souvenir from a consecutive string of sleepless nights. You had your own reports to file, a history exam to help Yuji study for, and Nobara had explicitly told you to be ready in twenty minutes to carry her bags through Shibuya. Your throat tightened, the word no forming perfectly on your tongue.
It was right there. All you had to do was push it past your teeth.
â"Of course, Sensei," you heard yourself say, the voice sounding entirely detached from your own body. "I'll have them on Principal Yaga's desk by three."
â"Knew I could count on you!" He gave you a cheerful salute and vanished in a blur of limitless space, leaving you staring at the mountain of paperwork. You swallowed the sigh building in your chest, picked up your pen, and started writing.
This was simply how you survived. You made yourself a skeleton key, filing down your own edges, your own needs, and your own exhaustion until you perfectly fit the lock of whatever anyone else required. If you were useful, if you were accommodating, if you smoothed out the friction in the lives of the people around you, they would never look at you and decide you were too much trouble to keep around, that's how it should be, right?
âBut nowhere was this exhausting performance more prevalent than in your relationship with Megumi Fushiguro.
Megumi with his quiet nature, Megumi with his storm-clouded eyes, Megumi who shouldered so muchâ with Tsumiki's curse, with the expectations of having a powerful cursed technique, Megumi who you were so so so afraid of losing.
You still have a hard time believing you two are dating. The way it happened was so casual it almost felt unreal.
It wasnât a grand confession, just a quiet surrender to everything that made you fall for him. The hallway was still buzzing with leftover energy from Yujiâs and Nobaraâs laughter, but at your door, the silence felt heavy. Megumi lingered, hands shoved in his pockets, before his fingers grazed your wrist as you were about open the door. When he leaned in, it was with the soft gentleness of someone who had finally found a place to let his guard down. The kiss was brief, but you both knew exactly where you stood in each other's lives.
Yet, being his partner did not cure your affliction; it magnified it even further. You treated your relationship like fragile glass sculpture you had to constantly balance on your fingertips. You altered your entire existence to fit the mold of what you assumed was his ideal, low-maintenance partner.
You drank your tea unsweetened because he preferred bitter things, forcing the astringent liquid down your throat every morning while secretly craving sugar. You slept rigidly on the absolute edge of his mattress, your muscles cramping by dawn, just to ensure he had the lionâs share of the blankets. When he was exhausted from a mission, you swallowed your own awful, lingering trauma from the day, hiding your bruises beneath long sleeves and painting a bright, serene smile on your face so you wouldnât add to his mental load.
And Megumi knew.
He was incredibly perceptive, and the forced perfection of your behavior was beginning to wear on him like coarse grit against his skin. He saw the way your hands shook when you agreed to take a double patrol shift. He noticed the barely perceptible flinch when he absentmindedly turned the television to a channel you secretly hated, only for you to vehemently agree that it was a great program to watch. It frustrated him.
Megumi loved you, he loved you so much it pained him, but he felt like he was dating a shadow, only moving when he did. And he did not know how to bring it up without fearing for what you would do.
The mission was supposed to be a standard Grade 2 curse eradication in an abandoned subway terminal. It was a joint assignment for the two of you, a rare opportunity to work together. But the intelligence from the auxiliary managers was flawed, as it so often was. The curse was a Grade 1, a massive, grotesque amalgamation of rusted metal and rotting flesh that moved with terrifying speed.
The battle was chaotic in the claustrophobic underground tunnels. Dust choked the air, illuminated only by the flickering, dying fluorescent lights overhead. Megumi had summoned Nue to provide aerial attacks, the electrical discharge illuminating the grim determination on his face. You were covering his blind spots, your own cursed energy manifesting in sharp and precise strikes.
It happened in a fraction of a second. The curse, recognizing Megumi as the greater threat, lunged toward him with a massive, scythe-like appendage. Megumi was mid-incantation, his hands clasped together, momentarily vulnerable.
Your body moved before your conscious mind could register the decision. The ingrained instinct to protect, to serve, to sacrifice, propelled you forward. You shoved Megumi hard, knocking him out of the trajectory of the blade.
The impact was deafening. The rusted metal sliced through the air and tore into your left side, ripping through your uniform and biting deep into the flesh of your waist. The agony was instantaneous, a blinding flare of white-hot pain that stole the oxygen from your lungs. You hit the concrete floor hard, the taste of copper flooding your mouth.
"Nue!" Megumi roared, his voice cracking with a rare, raw panic. The shikigami descended in a blinding flash of lightning, obliterating the curse in a concussive shockwave of cursed energy.
The dust settled, heavy and silent.
Megumi was beside you in an instant, his breathing ragged, his hands hovering over you as if afraid that touching you would shatter you completely. "Are you alright? Where did it hit you?" His eyes were wide, the usual cold indifference entirely stripped away, revealing the terrified boy underneath.
The pain in your side was excruciating, a throbbing, burning sensation that suggested the curseâs rusted blade had been laced with some kind of venomous energy. Blood was already soaking the fabric of your shirt, hot and sticky against your skin. You needed Shoko. You needed a stretcher.
But as you looked up into Megumiâs panic-stricken eyes, the old, familiar terror clawed at your throat. You caused this panic. You are making him worry. You ruined the mission. You are a burden.
The people pleaser within you seized the reins of your vocal cords.
You forced the agony down, burying it beneath a mountain of sheer, desperate willpower. You pushed yourself up on trembling arms, twisting your torso to hide the worst of the bleeding from his line of sight. You plastered on a smile that felt like it might crack your face in two.
"I'm fine," you lied, your voice painfully steady. "It just grazed me. I knocked the wind out of myself when I fell."
Megumi frowned, his dark brows knitting together in suspicion. He reached out to inspect your side, but you swiftly shifted away, standing up on shaking legs. The world tilted dangerously, black spots dancing in your peripheral vision, but you dug your nails into your palms to ground yourself.
"I swear, Megumi. I'm okay. Let's just report and go home. I'm exhausted." You kept your tone light, almost apologetic. "I'm sorry I got in your way. I should have been more careful."
The apology tasted vile. You had saved his life, yet you were apologizing for being in the way.
Megumi stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. The tension radiating from him was evident, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew you were hiding something. He could smell the blood. But your adamant refusal to acknowledge the danger built a wall between you that he didn't know how to breach, yet he trusted your judgment, he trusted that you would tell him if the injury was serious.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave, thick with frustration and repressed anxiety. He recalled his shikigami, the shadows swallowing Nue whole. "Let's go."
The car ride back to the college was nothing less than silent torture. You sat pressed against the passenger door, your arms wrapped tightly around your waist, secretly applying pressure to the wound that was continuously oozing blood. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of agony up your spine, but you bit the inside of your cheek until it bled rather than make a single sound. Ijichi drove in stony silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, every now and then apologising for the mistake in the mission logs, and then expressing his relief at your well-being.
By the time you reached the dormitories, you were running purely on adrenaline and the need to lock yourself in your bathroom before you collapsed.
"I'm going to take a shower!" you announced the moment you stepped into his room, your voice breathy and strained. You didn't wait for a response, practically fleeing into the adjoining bathroom and closing the door behind you.
The moment it was locked, the facade crumbled. Your knees gave out, and you slumped against the cold tile door, an agonizing gasp escaping your lips. You peeled off your ruined jacket and the blood-soaked shirt beneath it. The wound was horrific. An angry tear across your oblique, the edges blackened with residual cursed energy. It was deep, bleeding sluggishly but persistently.
Tears of pain and exhaustion finally spilled over your eyelashes, tracing hot paths down your dust-streaked cheeks. You had to clean it. You had to wrap it. You couldn't bother Shoko this late; she had been pulling all-nighters all week. You couldn't bother Megumi; he was already mad at you.
You dragged yourself to the sink, turning on the faucet. You grabbed a washcloth, soaked it in hot water, and pressed it against the wound.
A choked, pathetic sob tore from your throat. The pain was blinding, a sickening wave of nausea crashing over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body trembling violently as you tried to scrub away the blackened, infected tissue.
Click.
You froze. The sound of the lock turning from the outside. You had forgotten Megumi kept a spare key on the upper frame of the door for emergencies.
The door swung open, revealing Megumi standing in the threshold. He had changed out of his uniform, wearing only a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked exhausted.
But whatever exhaustion he felt vanished the instant his eyes landed on you.
He took in the scene in a fraction of a second: your pale, shivering form hunched over the sink, the blood-soaked washcloth in your trembling hand, and the gruesome, gaping wound on your side that was currently dripping crimson onto the pristine white tiles.
The air in the bathroom seemed to drop ten degrees. The shadows in the corners of the room physically writhed, reacting to the sudden, violent spike in his cursed energy.
"What," Megumi breathed, his voice barely a whisper, yet it resonated with the force of an earthquake, "is that."
Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You scrambled to cover the wound with your arm, backing away from him like a cornered animal, your eyes wide and terrified.
"It's nothing!" you stammered, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a desperate rush. "I was just cleaning it. It looks worse than it is, Megumi, I promise. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make a mess. I'll clean the floor, justâ"
"Stop."
The command cracked through the air like a whip. Megumi stepped into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. His face was a mask of cold fury, but his eyesâhis deep, beautiful, stormy eyesâwere wide with an emotion that looked terrifyingly like devastation.
He crossed the small space in two strides, grabbing your wrists. His grip was firm, inescapable, but agonizingly gentle as he pulled your hands away from your side. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he finally got a clear look at the injury.
"You call this a graze?" he demanded, his voice shaking with a terrifying, suppressed rage. "It's entirely infected with cursed energy. You need reverse cursed technique, immediately. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say anything in the tunnel?"
Your chest heaved as you struggled to pull oxygen into your lungs. The panic was taking over, suffocating you. You were trapped. You had failed. You had made him angry. You had become the burden you fought so hard not to be.
"IâI didn't want to worry you," you choked out, fresh tears welling in your eyes. "You were already stressed about the mission being a Grade 1. I didn't want to slow us down. I'm sorry, Megumi. I'm so, so sorry. Please don't be mad. I can fix it, I'll go to Shoko right now, you don't have to deal with thisâ"
"Stop apologizing!" Megumi yelled.
You flinched violently, your shoulders instantly hiking up to your ears, your head bowing in an automatic posture of submission. The silence that followed his shout was deafening, broken only by your ragged, hyperventilating breaths and the steady drip, drip, drip of blood hitting the floor.
Megumi stared at your cowering form, the anger draining out of him in a rush, leaving behind a profound, hollow ache in his chest. He realized, with a horrifying clarity, that you were not flinching because of the pain of your wound. You were flinching because of him.
He dropped your wrists as if they burned him, taking a step back, his hands taking place behind his neck.
"Why do you do this?" he asked, his voice cracking, the anger replaced by a desperate, agonizing confusion. "Why do you lie to me? Why do you let yourself bleed out in a bathroom rather than ask me for help? Am I that unapproachable? Am I that terrible of a boyfriend that you think I would be annoyed by you almost dying?"
"No!" you cried, your voice breaking, the absolute terror of him thinking he was at fault tearing at your heart. "No, Megumi, you're perfect. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. It's not you, it's me. I'm just⊠I'm just trying to be good. I'm trying to be easy. I don't want to be difficult."
"Easy?" Megumi repeated, the word sounding foreign and ugly in his mouth. He stepped forward again, crowding you against the edge of the sink, his hands gripping the porcelain on either side of your waist, trapping you in. He didn't touch you, but his presence was demanding your full attention.
"You think I want you to be 'easy'?" he pressed, his eyes searching yours frantically, demanding an honesty you didn't know how to give. "I want you to be honest! I want you to tell me when you are hurt so I can take care of you!"
You shook your head furiously, the tears flowing freely now, hot and unrelenting. Your entire body was trembling, your heart hammering against your ribs, threatening to break. You were breaking apart, the foundation of your entire coping mechanism crumbling beneath his gaze.
"You say that now," you sobbed, the ugly, deeply buried truth finally clawing its way up your throat, bitter and raw. "You say that now, but you don't know. You already have so much on your plate, I don't want to make it worse. If I don't do it, you will hate me, I don't want you to hate me."
The confession hung in the humid air of the bathroom, heavy and devastating.
You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the blow. Waiting for the agreement. Waiting for him to step back, to look at you with cold realization, and walk out the door. You had finally revealed the ugly, pathetic core of your soul. You were a coward, terrified of abandonment, buying love with servitude.
But the silence stretched. And then, you felt it.
The gentle, hesitant brush of his knuckles against your tear-soaked cheek.
Your eyes flew open. Megumi was looking at you with an expression that shattered your heart into a million irreparable pieces. It wasn't pity. It wasn't disgust, but heartbreak. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted as he struggled to find words that could possibly combat the magnitude of your self-hatred.
Slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild, frightened animal, Megumi reached out. He didn't grab your wrists this time. He slid his arms around your waist, mindful of the gaping wound on your side, and pulled you flush against his chest.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ghosting over your skin.
"You are so stupid," he whispered, the words muffled against your skin, devoid of any malice, dripping only with a desperate, heavy sorrow. "You are an incredible person, so beautiful, so incredible, but stupid."
You stiffened, your hands hovering uselessly in the air, terrified to touch him, terrified to ruin this moment. But Megumi just held you tighter, his strong arms wrapping around you like a shield against the very demons inside your own head.
"Listen to me," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. He pulled back just enough to force you to look him in the eye. The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place."Stop acting like your existence doesn't matter, it matters to me. You don't get to decide that you're expendable."
You let out a choked gasp, your hands finally, tentatively coming to rest against his chest, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt like your life depended on it.
"I care about you, so much," Megumi continued, his voice dropping into that serious, unwavering tone he used when making vows. "I care about protecting the people who matter to me. And you⊠you are at the very top of that list. If you are hurt, my world stops. If you are in pain, I am in pain. Hiding your suffering from me doesn't protect me; it destroys me."
He raised a hand, his thumb gently wiping away the steady stream of tears falling from your eyes. His touch was warm, grounding.
"You are not a burden," he said, enunciating each word with fierce, desperate clarity. "And I am begging you, please⊠let me take care of you. Let me be the one who carries the weight for a while. You don't have to earn your place beside me by bleeding in silence. In fact, you don't have to do anything but be here."
The dam broke.
You collapsed against him, your legs finally giving out, and he caught you effortlessly, sinking to the bathroom floor with you held securely in his arms.
You wept. You wailed. It was an ugly, guttural, heart-wrenching sound that tore from the very depths of your soul. You buried your face in his chest, clutching at him desperately, crying for the pain in your side, crying for the exhaustion in your bones, crying for the terrified little child inside you who had spent their whole life terrified of being left behind.
Megumi didn't shush you. He didn't tell you to calm down. He sat on the cold tile floor amidst the blood and the discarded bandages, holding you. He rocked you slowly, one hand gently stroking your hair, the other resting firmly against your back. He let you fall apart completely, creating a safe, impenetrable fortress within his arms where you were finally allowed to be shattered, loud, and inconvenient.
Hours seemed to pass before the sobs finally subsided into heavy, exhausted hiccups. Your throat was raw, your eyes swollen and burning. The adrenaline had completely left your system, leaving you weak and painfully aware of the throbbing agony in your side.
You shifted slightly in his lap, sniffing pathetically. Megumi immediately loosened his grip, looking down at you with a softness that made your chest ache.
"Are you done?" he asked quietly, a tiny, sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
You nodded numbly, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "I ruined your shirt," you rasped, noticing the dark stains of your tears and blood on the grey fabric.
"I don't care about the shirt," Megumi said softly. He gently shifted you off his lap, standing up and reaching down to help you to your feet. You swayed dangerously, the blood loss finally catching up to you. He caught you around the waist, easily supporting your weight.
"Come on," he murmured, his voice gentle but brook-no-argument firm. "We are going to Shoko. Right now."
The instinct to protest flared up instantly. It's 3 AM. She's sleeping. I can just bandage it tight. But as you looked up at Megumi, at the deep circles under his eyes and the lingering terror in his posture, the words died in your throat.
You swallowed hard, the word feeling foreign and incredibly heavy on your tongue.
"Okay."
Megumi let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours. He didn't say anything, but the relief in his eyes was blinding. He practically carried you down the silent, moonlit hallways to the infirmary.
Shoko was awake, smoking a cigarette out the window when Megumi kicked the infirmary door open. She took one look at Megumiâs pale face and the blood soaking your side and immediately crushed the cigarette, immediately tending to you.
The process of healing was agonizing. Shokoâs reverse cursed technique was a miracle, but extracting the foreign cursed energy from the wound before healing the flesh was a torturous sensation. You lay on the sterile white cot, your teeth gritted, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead.
Through it all, Megumi sat beside the bed. He held your hand in both of his, his grip tight enough to bruise, grounding you in reality while the pain threatened to pull you under. He didn't look away, even when the wound looked its most gruesome. He stayed exactly where he promised he would be.
When it was finally over, and the flesh was knit cleanly together leaving only an angry pink scar, exhaustion hit you like a physical blow. Shoko handed you a clean t-shirt and kicked you both out, muttering something about needing sleep.
The walk back to Megumiâs dorm was slow. You leaned heavily against him, your body utterly drained. You felt hollowed out, incredibly fragile, like a glass blown too thin.
When you reached his room, he didn't turn on the overhead lights. He guided you gently to the bed, pulling back the heavy comforter. You crawled in automatically, immediately scooting to the absolute edge of the mattress, curling into a tight ball. It was muscle memory at this point.
Megumi stood at the edge of the bed, watching you in the dim moonlight filtering through the blinds. He sighed, a heavy, exhausted sound. He kicked off his shoes, discarded his ruined shirt, and climbed into the bed.
But he didn't lie down on his side.
Instead, he moved to the center of the mattress. He reached out, grabbing you gently by the hips, and physically dragged you away from the edge, pulling you across the sheets until you were flush against him in the very middle of the bed.
You gasped softly in surprise, stiffening. "Megumiâ"
"Stop," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your hair. He tangled his legs with yours, pinning you to him, ensuring there was no physical way for you to retreat to the cold periphery. "You are exactly where you belong. Take up the whole bed if you want. Kick me out if you want. But stop going all the way there."
You lay rigid in his arms for a long moment, your brain struggling to process the sensation of being held so securely, of being allowed to take up space without apologizing for it. The warmth of his body seeped into your cold skin. His heartbeat thudded steadily against your back, a rhythmic, grounding lullaby.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you forced your muscles to uncoil. You let out a long, shaky breath, letting your weight sink fully into his embrace. You closed your eyes, his scent surrounding you, pulling you down into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, you woke to the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of birds chirping outside the window. The sunlight streaming into the room felt unnervingly bright.
You sat up slowly, testing the newly healed skin on your side. It twinged slightly, a dull ache, but the agonizing burn was gone. You looked around the room. You were alone in the bed, the covers tangled around your waist. You were dead center in the mattress.
The door to the small kitchenette opened, and Megumi stepped in, carrying two mugs. He looked rested, his dark hair a chaotic mess, his eyes softer than you had seen them in months.
He walked over to the bed and handed you a mug.
"Morning," he mumbled quietly, sitting on the edge of the mattress near your feet.
"Morning," you replied softly, your voice still gravelly from crying the night before. You wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic mug, seeking comfort in the heat. You brought it to your lips, taking a tentative sip.
You immediately paused, your brow furrowing in confusion.
It wasn't black coffee. It wasn't the bitter, acidic brew he drank every morning. It was warm milk, steeped heavily with a sweet, floral chamomile tea, and generously laced with honey. It was incredibly sweet. It was exactly what you actually liked.
You lowered the mug, staring at the golden liquid, a sudden lump forming in your throat. You looked up at Megumi. He was watching you carefully, his dark eyes analyzing your reaction.
"You didn't make coffee," you whispered, stating the obvious.
Megumi looked down at his own mug, taking a sip of the black sludge he preferred. "I know you hate it," he said simply, not meeting your eyes. A faint, barely perceptible pink dusted the tips of his ears. "I noticed a while ago. You always grimace when you take the first sip. And you always buy that sweet stuff when we go to the convenience store, but you never drink it around me."
Your breath hitched. He had noticed. He had known, and he had been waiting for you to say something.
He reached out, his long fingers gently wrapping around your ankle over the blankets.
"I'm not asking you to change everything in one day," Megumi continued, his voice quiet, steady, and infinitely patient. "I know it's a habit. I know you're terrified. But I am asking you to try. With me. Just with me."
He paused, a tiny, teasing glint momentarily breaking through his stoic demeanor. "For example. I was thinking of making eggs for breakfast. But I know you like pancakes, even though you always say eggs are fine. So. What do you want for breakfast?"
It was a test. A small, seemingly insignificant question, but between the two of you, it carried the weight of the world.
The instinct rose up instantly. Eggs are easier for him to make. He likes eggs. Tell him eggs. The familiar panic fluttered in your chest, the fear of demanding too much, of being an inconvenience.
You opened your mouth, the word 'eggs' forming on your lips.
But you stopped. You looked down at the sweet, warm tea in your hands, the tea he had made specifically for you, acknowledging your preferences, honoring your comfort. You looked at the hand resting gently on your ankle, grounding you, keeping you safe. You remembered the desperate way he had held you on the bloody bathroom floor, demanding that you exist loudly.
You closed your mouth. You took a deep breath, fighting the tremor in your voice. You forced yourself to meet his gaze directly.
"IâŠ" you started, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat, trying again. "I would really like pancakes, Megumi. If that's okay?"
The silence in the room stretched for a single, terrifying second. You braced yourself for a sigh, a roll of the eyes, a sign of annoyance that you had requested the more difficult option.
Instead, Megumiâs face broke into a smile. It wasn't his usual smirk, or a polite curve of the lips. It was a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile that reached his eyes, illuminating his features and making your heart stutter in your chest.
He stood up, taking his mug of bitter coffee with him.
"Pancakes it is," he said softly, turning back toward the kitchen. He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder at you, his eyes filled with a certain amount of serenity that was so rare for megumi.
"And [Name]?"
You looked up, your hands gripping the mug tightly. "Yeah?"
sukuna upsetting his pregnant wife by eating her food she was craving bc heâs a fatty and her breaking down in tears because of hormones and he has to beg and plead for her forgiveness.
âbaby, Iâll buy as much as you want, Iâll buy everything they have in the store for you.â
tears are all ready dripping down your chin, it was too late. The damage has already been done.
âI donât even want it anymore,â you sobbed, âyou killed my love for them.â
if sukuna didnât feel bad before then best believe your words had just struck him in the heart. âIâll make it up to you I swear, Iâll sleep on the couch, Iâll do anything.â
you begin to cry even more, âI donât want to sleep alone.â
âfuck.â Sukuna muttered to himself, he just canât seem to say anything right.
pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (university au)
summary: sukuna has a notorious reputation on campus of being terrifying, but it's hard to be too scared of the guy when he shows up to your familyâs failing bakery every day to buy strawberry shortbread.
when your life feels like its falling apart you discover just how sweet he can be.
word count: 9.3k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, university au, FLUFF, angst, humor, slow burn, idiots in love, miscommunication, parental illness, grief, toxic ex-bf, reference to past sexual coercion/assault, stress and overwork, introverted reader, panic attacks, anxiety, loss of a parent
a/n: sorry for how long this has taken my burn out on this fic has been crazy :(
series masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter (ch15) | next chapter (ch17)
âIt's crazy busy today,â you remarked, clinging more tightly to Sukunaâs hand as the two of you made your way up to the temple your father used to frequent.Â
A number of weeks had passed since Sukunaâs visit to Kyushu, and after a pleasant Christmas with your mother, youâd finally moved back to your place in Tokyo to start off the new year. Even if you didnât feel fully healed from the emotional trauma of the past few months, you knew that now was the right time to start getting back to your life.Â
Final exams were just around the corner and you were eager to spend as much time with Sukuna and your friends as possible ahead of graduation in the spring. Besides, as much as you loved your mother, there was a reason that children often opted to move out as they entered adulthood - there was a desire for independence that you lacked in her care.Â
It was nice to be back in your own home, living in accordance with your own schedule, and most importantly - able to see your boyfriend whenever you wanted to.Â
That was definitely the main advantage.Â
Sukuna had returned from his Christmas in Kyoto a couple of days before the start of the new year, and had spent that entire time at your apartment making it clear just how much heâd missed spending every second at your side. It had been a couple of days of bliss, spending all your time huddled up in bed together or on the couch, eating chocolate and watching Christmas movies.Â
Heâd spent half of that time kissing you and murmuring about how much he loved you, seemingly never tiring of hearing you say it back to him.Â
When heâd come out and told you how he felt when you were in the ryokan in Kyushu, it had been the easiest thing in the world to return the sentiment. To tell him how you really felt was like having a weight lifted off your shoulders, one that you hadnât even been aware you were harbouring.Â
Youâd loved him for a long time.Â
To be honest, youâd probably loved him for longer than youâd even been dating. Heâd been at your side unwaveringly for so long now, always making sure that he supported you through what had easily been the worst period of your life. He demonstrated a love for you that youâd never really believed that youâd find, and you couldnât be happier.Â
It was a shame that your dad wasnât around to witness it.Â
Heâd wanted this happiness for you, had truly believed that youâd find it. Even after everything that happened with Hiromi, even with how depressed and disheartened you grew, your father never doubted that one day you would find someone who would make all of that nothing more than a distant memory.Â
You truly believed that he knew Sukuna would be that for you, that he went out of his way to ensure that you understood that before he passed away.Â
It was why today, a few days into the new year, you were taking Sukuna with you to your dadâs grave. Well, partly why you were bringing Sukuna with you. A big part of it was the fact that you hadnât visited the grave since heâd passed away, and you were apprehensive to go alone. However, you knew that your father would also be delighted to see you together, so it was a win-win.Â
âWe should pray at the temple before heading to the cemetery,â You suggested, as the two of you reached the top of the templeâs stairs.Â
People were queuing up to make offerings, the area bustling with the expected New Year's activity. You and your father had been among the many visitors over the last few years, never failing to pay your respects at the temple to mark a new beginning.
It would be nice to uphold the tradition with Sukuna - make an offering and hope that some greater force rewarded you with better luck this year. It felt like a way of honoring your fatherâs memory in some manner.
He nodded in agreement and you joined the queue of people, squeezing Sukunaâs hand softly. Even though you were doing much better than you were a few months ago, there was still an element of anxiety that overcame you within large crowds, a desire to hide away like you had for the past few months. It was grounding to hold on to him, knowing he was there at your side.Â
âMy dad always used to make us go pray at the temple on New Years,â Sukuna said. Unlike your happy recollection of time with your father, Sukunaâs tone suggested that his memory of such a tradition was of it being troublesome more than anything else.Â
âYou didnât enjoy it?â
He wrinkled his nose. âNot really. My dad would usually be mad at me for one thing or another.âÂ
You could picture the image of a tiny Sukuna being dragged kicking and screaming up the stairs to some tranquil temple, his fatherâs ire growing with all the attention he was garnering from those around him.Â
âBesides, I never really understood the whole praying thing anyway,â he added.Â
âOh! We can skip this if you want? Go straight to my dadâs grave?â You hadnât considered that Sukuna might not want to honor your usual New Yearâs tradition, youâd essentially just dragged him into it.Â
Shaking his head, he shot you a smile. âNo, I like being here with you. Maybe now that I'm older Iâd even like going with my dad. It wasnât like it was his fault my prayers werenât answered when I was a kid.â
You tilted your head in interest, not sure what to make of that statement. Youâd assumed his dislike of the yearly visits had stemmed from outside factors - like wanting to forgo a trip to the temple to go and play video games instead, making his father angry. But his statement made it sound more like the two of them would be at odds over the visit itself.Â
âWhat do you mean?â You asked, keeping your gaze on him as the two of you shuffled closer to the front of the queue.Â
âThe first few years after my mom left Iâd go and pray that sheâd come back and the whole family would be happy again.â There was a hint of a blush on Sukunaâs cheeks, as if that wasnât something that heâd confided in anyone before. âObviously, she never did, so I started getting angry whenever my dad would try to take me to the shrine. Why should I waste my time praying when it was so obviously all made up?âÂ
You hummed in understanding. Your wishes as a child had always been more general, the classic stuff like good luck and a happy year, rather than something as specific as your family being reunited. It was a request that essentially set him up for failure, no wonder he hated visiting the temple.Â
âIn hindsight, I really punished my dad for the stupidest shit,â Sukuna said with a laugh. âI mean, she was the one that abandoned her family, and yet I took all my anger out on him.âÂ
âIts easier to direct your blame towards someone whoâs actually present,â you reasoned.Â
To some extent you could understand his feelings. Even though there was little animosity in your parentsâ divorce, youâd still found yourself frustrated by your motherâs decision to move far from Tokyo. Your father had weathered more than one angsty teenage tantrum from you as a result of that.Â
You could only imagine how much more tumultuous Sukunaâs feelings regarding his own situation must have been. Especially when he was dealing with a sibling who seemed to be handling things so much better than he was.Â
âOh sure, but I guess I just actually feel bad about it now.âÂ
âYou didnât before?â You asked.Â
He shrugged. âNot really. It never felt like me and my dad saw eye-to-eye. In my mind he was always bringing the hammer down on me for everything. I figured that weâd just grow apart once I stopped living in his house and just eventually stop talking altogether.âÂ
Sukuna explained his view so matter of factly, barely batting an eyelid at the idea that heâd simply stop talking to his remaining parent. There was a pang of hurt in your chest, something akin to jealousy at how lucky Sukuna was for that to even be a choice, because youâd do anything to speak to your dad again.Â
Sensing your displeasure, he continued before you could misinterpret him further. âSince I met you, I think I see it differently. Even if my dad can be a hell of a lot more difficult than yours, I donât want to end up in a situation where he dies and I live in regret of not spending more time with him.âÂ
You gave him a soft smile, glad that your experience had some effect on him. The way that he spoke about Wasuke always fascinated you, because you couldnât imagine the man being anything but a good father. But you supposed the Sukuna that you knew now was far more mellow than he had been as a teen. If Wasuke had to put him in his place, there was no doubt in your mind that heâd do it with a stern hand.Â
âI think it's much easier to appreciate your parents when you stop living with them. Youâve got a way to withdraw if they start to drive you up the wall,â you said.Â
Sukuna tilted his head, glancing down at you. There was a glimmer of disbelief in his crimson eyes. âDid your dad ever annoy you?âÂ
âOf course.â You scoffed. âNo one likes their parents all the time. But it didnât ever stop me from loving him, even when heâd frustrate me.âÂ
âOh. I canât really imagineâŠthat.â He trailed off. You giggled, unsurprised by his reaction. You and your dad had always been in such harmony compared to stories Sukuna had told you about Wasuke.Â
âItâs because you only met me when he was dying. At that point I was going out of my way to spend every moment that I could with him. But sure, when I was a teenager there were times where he really pissed me off. Itâs natural. When we have kids Iâm sure weâll piss them off.âÂ
Your mind didnât really register what youâd said, letting go of Sukunaâs hand and stepping up to pray as you reached the front of the queue, unaware of the way that heâd frozen up at your side, eyes wide with shock, only following after you when an old lady nudged him to keep the queue moving.Â
The two of you took a few moments to pray, squeezing your eyes shut and practically begging some greater force to give you an easier year than the last one. You definitely felt like you deserved a break after all youâd gone through.Â
Once satisfied that youâd done all you could, you moved out the way to make space for next people in the queue, taking Sukunaâs hand once more and weaving through the temple courtyard in the direction of the cemetery.Â
âWhat did you pray f-âÂ
âWhen we have kids?â Sukuna cut you off promptly, only now managing to put words together.Â
You tilted your head at him, brows knit in confusion as you tried to parse what he was saying. Your mind had already moved on from the conversation youâd been having mere minutes ago, the weight of visiting your fatherâs grave pushing everything else away. It took a few seconds for you to piece everything together.Â
A deep blush flooded your cheeks, a little embarrassed to have spoken so carelessly. It wasnât like the two of you had discussed that sort of thing seriously yet. So much of your time dating had been spent apart from each other, with Sukuna supporting you through the worst period of your life. Thereâd been little chance to establish what your future might look like.Â
âUh- yeah.â You werenât sure what else to say. Part of you wanted to walk it back, to pretend heâd misinterpreted. But he hadnât - you wanted to be with him in the future, wanted to have kids with him. There was no point in pretending that you didnât. Â
âYouâve thought about that?âÂ
You bit on your lip shyly, offering him a simple nod. âYeah.âÂ
The two of you walked in silence for a little while after that, your free hand fidgeting in your coat pocket, not sure what to say next or what Sukuna was thinking. You were starting to wonder if he would dismiss the matter entirely - perhaps he was simply unsure about whether heâd want children in the future.Â
Or, maybe he wanted children but didnât know if heâd want them with you.Â
His hand squeezed yours tightly before you could really start to spiral. âWhat other things have you thought about?â He asked, softly.Â
âUh- I donât know, just stupid stuff.âÂ
âStupid stuff?â He asked, glancing down at you, lip curling in amusement.Â
You pouted, moving your gaze down to your feet, watching the mud of the dirt path squelch beneath your feet. âYâknow, like living together, getting a cat, I donât knowâŠâ You mumbled.Â
In reality youâd thought extensively about what your future with Sukuna would look like - living in some nice apartment for just the two of you, spending evenings curled up on the sofa together talking about everything and nothing. Every morning youâd wake up at his side and youâd kiss him like nothing else mattered.Â
Having children was something that youâd always known that youâd wanted, but had never really been sure that it was something youâd have. After everything that had happened with Hiromi youâd almost believed that youâd be incapable of trusting a man with your heart, out of fear that he might take advantage in the same way your ex had.Â
With Sukuna it was different. Heâd proved how trustworthy he was time and time again, and the idea of raising a child with him one day had your heart racing. Heâd be a good father, heâd be a good husband, he was the only person that youâd ever want to do those things with.Â
But saying that aloud felt nerve wracking, so what youâd given him so far would have to suffice.
âDoesnât sound stupid to me,â he said. âSounds important, actually.âÂ
You blinked a couple of times, glancing up at him in surprise. He looked so unbelievably handsome staring back at you, the beauty of his face never failing to leave you wondering just how youâd gotten so lucky as to garner his interest.Â
âIâve thought about those things too, you know. Kids, marriage and all that,â he said. The two of you had drawn to a halt, Sukunaâs hand leaving yours and reaching for your chin instead, tilting your head up to ensure you were looking at him properly. âIt's what I want with you, one day. Everything that life has to offer, Iâll do it with you.âÂ
Breath hitching, you blinked at him, a little dumbfounded by how romantic those simple words were.Â
âI wonât be leaving your side as long as I can stay here,â he continued. âI donât know what life looks like after we graduate, I really have no idea - but no matter what, Iâll make sure that weâre in it together. Thatâs all that matters to me.âÂ
You moved on impulse, because you couldnât find any words to offer to him that would live up to what heâd already said. Instead, you pushed yourself up onto your tip-toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and pressing your lips softly against his.Â
After a few moments, you pulled back, eyes wide as you stared up at him. âAre you sure?âÂ
He rolled his eyes, bringing his hand up from its position on your waist and flicking you lightly in the centre of your forehead. You let out a yelp of surprise, pouting at the action, finding no sympathy from your boyfriend who was shaking his head in disapproval. âObviously Iâm sure, dumbass. I love you.âÂ
The feeling of warmth and affection that flooded you did a lot to overcome the sense of foreboding that hung over your head at being in the cemetery. You were so distracted by Sukunaâs words that your desperate anxiety didnât reappear until just before you reached your fatherâs grave. Sukuna had done an exceptional job at sidetracking you, whether intentional or not.Â
But even Sukunaâs deep confession of love wasnât enough to distract you once you reached that headstone, the air heavy in your lungs. It was a nice little plot, one that your aunt had picked out. Sheâd been visiting the grave regularly since his passing, leaving flowers each week and taking the opportunity to talk to him as if he was still around.Â
Part of you could understand adopting such a habit, but based on how sick you felt, you werenât sure that youâd be coming by all that often. It felt wrong that he was in this place, and hated how real it felt to stare at the headstone with his name engraved upon it.Â
While you were in Kyushu it was almost possible to convince yourself that you were just on holiday away from him. Being at his grave had all the pain and hurt of his death flooding back, your heart racing with panic.Â
âTake a deep breath.â Sukunaâs voice was low, his hand squeezing yours firmly. âIâm here.âÂ
You nodded, taking a few seconds to control your breathing, which had quickly sped up at the sight of the grave. You were grateful for Sukunaâs grounding presence, practically gripping onto his hand for dear life as you took the last few steps towards the headstone, lip quivering as you stared down at it.Â
A few flowers decorated the base, left by your aunt and various friends who had been by to visit. You felt almost guilty that you hadnât brought some yourself, feeling far too frazzled that morning to even consider picking some up on your way over. You supposed it didnât really matter - it wasnât like he was aware of what decorated his grave.Â
You stood in silence for a few minutes, just looking at the scene before you, before starting to panic. Youâd come here with the intent of visiting him because that was what people did when people they loved passed away. But now that you were actually here, you found that you had absolutely no idea what you were meant to do.Â
Should you talk to him? Pray for him? Was it enough to just stand there for a few minutes and then turn back the way you came, like ticking off some tourist attraction in a foreign city? You glanced up at Sukuna haplessly.Â
âYou okay, baby?â He asked.Â
âIâŠdonât know what to do.âÂ
âOh, uhâŠâ He hesitated, eyes widening for a moment before glancing away, as if lost in thought. You werenât really sure what youâd been expecting from him - it wasnât like he was more experienced in grief than you were. âTalk to him, maybe?âÂ
âAnd say what?â You asked, noting the way Sukunaâs shoulders dropped in defeat, because he had absolutely no idea what you were meant to say. But he did his best to guide you regardless.Â
âWhat would you tell him if he was standing right in front of you?âÂ
You turned that thought over in your head, unsure what you would actually say if he was standing in front of you, but you supposed it didnât need to be anything long or drawn out. The basics would suffice.Â
Releasing Sukunaâs hand, you knelt down on the patch of grass before the grave, neatly reorganising the flowers that had been left for him, propping them up where the wind had knocked them down. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you fixed your gaze on the headstone, trying to imagine that it was him standing before you, rather than a mere memorial.Â
âI miss you,â you said, finally. Your voice came out smaller than youâd been intending it to, but you supposed it didnât really matter at the end of the day. If there was some magical force that allowed him to actually hear you, having a quiet voice certainly wouldnât stand in the way. âI- um- I brought Sukuna here.âÂ
You glanced over at your boyfriend, hoping that heâd step closer. You felt kind of pathetic, unable to truly face this situation alone. But Sukuna didnât seem unhappy with your request, taking a few steps forward so that he was standing right behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.Â
âHeâs been looking after me, because it's been tough withoutâŠyou,â you continued. âI know youâd be pulling that stupid face that youâd always pull whenever Iâd tell you I liked a boy, I bet wherever you are, youâre ecstatic that your scheming actually worked.âÂ
You let out a soft huff of laughter, tears gathering in your eyes. Heâd always been so invested in your life, so focused on making sure that you were happy. Sukuna made you happier than youâd been in a long time - even despite all the pain that youâd gone through over the past year. You wished that your father could be around to see how happy he made you.Â
You wished heâd be around to see his grandchildren one day. You knew that he wouldâve spoiled them rotten.Â
Tears were starting to drip down your cheeks, and you raised your arm to wipe them away on your sleeve. Youâd been crying less and less lately, and you didnât want to crumble completely right now. Youâd cried enough tears for a lifetime at this point.Â
Sukunaâs thumb was rubbing circles into your shoulder, comforting you silently as he let you continue with your speech, knowing better than to jump in even if he was eager to keep you from crying more. He was mature enough to understand that your tears in this moment were necessary, he didnât need to put a stop to them.Â
âI uh- I love you so much. Youâre the best dad I couldâve possibly asked for. I hope that you can still see me, wherever you are. I hope youâre proud of me.âÂ
Your final few words came out as barely a whisper, silenced by the sob that crawled up your throat. You pressed your hands to your face, body shaking as you cried into your sleeves. Sensing that you were done, Sukuna knelt down behind you, wrapping his arms firmly around your shaking body.Â
He pressed his lips to the top of your head, letting you sink back into the warmth of his form as you let all the tears out.Â
âYou know he was proud of you,â Sukuna murmured against your hair. âThere was nothing that he loved more in this world than you.âÂ
As the sun started to set, bathing the cemetery in orange light, your sobs started to subside. There werenât any more tears left for you to cry. You stayed in Sukunaâs arms for a while longer, staring down at the headstone, at the name that had been familiar to you for your entire life.Â
He would be proud of you, you knew he would.Â
You had to keep making him proud.Â
â
âHe did what?â Yuki asked with a giggle. She was currently sprawled out across your bed, staring down at where you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, shyly picking at the rug underneath you.Â
âHe pretended to beâŠâ You sighed, face reddening. âPlease donât make me say it again.âÂ
âAww come on, it's cute. Being a King suits him.â Shoko chimed in from her position on your desk chair, shooting you a sly smile as Yuki laughed harder.Â
For the last hour or so youâd been filling your friends in on all things Sukuna, from how youâd started dating all the way up to his visit in Kyushu a few weeks back. It was the first they were hearing any of it, a result of how tumultuous your last few months had been.Â
Outside of Sukuna and occasionally Nanami, you hadnât had much contact at all with people back in Tokyo over the last few months. It wasnât for your friendsâ lack of trying - they texted you often and asked if you wanted to call - it was you who would take ages to reply and insist on your desire to be alone. They all understood what had happened to your dad, Nanami had relayed the message to them, so while they still checked in on you, none of them pushed for more.Â
Now you were back in Tokyo it was a different story.Â
Shoko and Yuki had taken the opportunity to grab you the second they returned from Christmas break, eager to get clarification on certain rumors swirling around. Both of them had observed that Sukuna had been acting differently ever since you left, and Yuki knew for sure that Choso was harboring a secret that he was doing his utmost best to hold onto. Not to mention, Yorozu had been smearing your name around campus any chance she got.Â
It wasnât hard to connect the dots.Â
Ultimately neither of them blamed you for not telling them sooner, understanding your difficult life position, even if they were a little offended that Nanami hadnât passed on the details. For the most part they were just excited to hear all about it, and they really did want to hear everything.
âSo like, how true are the rumors?â Shoko asked, shrugging her shoulders as you shot her a look of disbelief. âWhat? Iâm curious.âÂ
âI meanâŠHeâs not really rough with me or any of that, if thatâs what youâre asking.â You trailed off, face heating up at the memory of Sukunaâs sincere expression as he made it abundantly clear that he didnât have it in him to treat you like that, emphasising just how precious you were to him.Â
âBut heâs good right?â Yuki asked. âCho said that he always avoided sleeping with girls that Sukuna had been with because he didnât want to be compared with him.âÂ
âUh- yeah- I mean, I donât know.â You stumbled over your words, cheeks flushing a deep crimson. You found great enjoyment in having sex with Sukuna, but you didnât have a massive well of positive experience by which to make a comparison. âBetter than Hiromi for sure.â
âWell, yeah, Iâd hope so.â Yuki said with a snort. âI ran into that asshole the other day actually."Â
âYeah?â You asked, less than enthusiastic to hear anything about Hiromi. Youâd prefer it if he could just drop off the face of the earth entirely.
âMmm, he practically tripped over himself trying to get away from me, it was pretty funny.âÂ
âHe did?âÂ
âYeah. To be fair, that was after Iâd gone up to him and given him a real piece of my mind for what he did to you. I really donât think he should just be allowed to get away with that shit, it's not fair.âÂ
You smiled, grateful for Yukiâs bravado. You really shouldâve told her about the situation with Hiromi when it first happened, you were certain now that she wouldâve backed you without hesitation. Youâd just been too foolish and scared to see it back then.Â
âThanks. Although, I think Sukuna already scared him half to death.âÂ
âGood. He shouldâve done much worse. If you wanted me to kill Hiromi for you, Iâd do it.âÂ
âMe too.â Shoko chimed in with a grin.Â
âYou would not.â Yuki argued, frowning at your friend. âIâm crazy, Iâd actually do it for real.âÂ
âIâll keep that in mind,â you said with a smile. âI think youâd have to queue up behind Sukuna. He was only really holding back because I asked him to.âÂ
Yuki huffed. âYouâre too nice sometimes, you know?âÂ
That was probably true. Hiromi deserved way worse than what heâd gotten, but that was mainly because you didnât want to waste more time thinking about him than necessary. Youâd rather wash your hands of him and move on than spend months or years seeking vengeance.Â
âYeah, I still canât believe Sukuna managed to win over a nice girl like you, he doesnât deserve that shit.â Shoko chimed in.Â
You giggled and shook your head. You could understand the sentiment, but she was dead wrong. âHeâs always really kind to me.âÂ
This wasnât one of those situations where a delusional girl convinces her friends that her horrible boyfriend is totally nice behind closed doors - with Sukuna it was actually the truth. Despite his rough exterior, he had never been anything but lovely where you were concerned - even if you were aware that his kindness didnât really extend to others.Â
He only had time for those that he respected - you and his friends were part of a special circle that had earned his positive attention. You even more so than his buddies, because unlike them, you would absolutely never be privy to his wrath in the way that Satoru might be on occasion.Â
âGod, youâve got him so lovestruck, it's crazy how whipped he is for you,â Yuki said, a dreamy look in her brown eyes.
That was something that you still found hard to believe, even if the evidence was laid out in front of you. You could never quite understand why you were so special to him, why you were so deserving of the reverence that he displayed towards you. And yet, whenever you questioned him on it, Sukuna seemed to think you foolish for asking.Â
Like it was obvious why heâd love you as much as he did.Â
It was clear that Sukuna saw something in you that you found hard to see for yourself, your insecurities getting in the way of allowing you to witness what he was seeing. It was just something that youâd have to trust him on - stop allowing yourself to be overcome with anxiety for who you were and accept that Sukunaâs love for you was genuine and deserved.Â
âHow mad would he get if we made fun of him for it this evening?â Shoko asked. Sheâd thrown her legs up on your desk, rocking back on the chair as she stared over at you.Â
âDepends on how far you push him.âÂ
If you were being honest, you werenât sure how much it would bother him. With the exception of the incident with Hiromi, youâd never really witnessed him get angry with anyone when he was at your side, even if you were aware that he was capable of it and prone to doing so when you werenât around.Â
You didnât think heâd get too mad at your friends anyway. It was more likely that heâd check on your reaction to see if you were uncomfortable and then act accordingly. That was just how he was when it came to you.Â
âI think you can poke at him a little,â you said with a shrug. âSatoru seems to get away with it all the time - he said that Sukuna is all bark and no bite around people that he likes.âÂ
Shoko scoffed. âYouâre assuming he likes us.âÂ
âYouâre my friends, so heâd at least be tolerant. He wouldnât want to make me mad.âÂ
âSo whipped,â Yuki said with a grin. âCanât wait to see how clingy he is with you later. Ryomen Sukuna pining after a girl isnât something that you see everyday.âÂ
You hummed softly. You were also eager to see how Sukuna would act with you around people that you actually knew. Considering the strained nature of the last few months, you hadnât had the chance to witness such a thing yet, tending to always be alone together or around strangers and family.Â
Sukuna was usually very touchy with you no matter the situation, but you werenât sure if heâd be that way around his friends. Youâd just have to wait and see.Â
That evening you were heading over to his place for a party that Satoru was throwing in your honor, a welcome home gathering essentially. It was supposed to be a relatively small affair, just Sukunaâs close friends and yours, but Sukuna had still checked with you nearly a dozen times that you actually wanted to go.Â
Memories of the last party youâd attended at his place hadnât been great, between fumbling your first kiss with him and then being yelled at by Yorozu, so you could understand his concern. It was nice that he was so fixated on your comfort, happy to give you an out if you wanted one.Â
But Satoru had been so excited about his plan that there was no way you were going to say no. Heâd been messaging you constantly asking what kind of food and drinks you liked most, what music you enjoyed so he could add it to his party playlist, and what bird you liked the most if a party was hypothetically going to be themed around it.Â
That last question had really thrown you for a loop, and when youâd shared it with Sukuna heâd promptly told you that heâd be shutting that shit down and that you werenât having some stupid bird themed party.Â
You wouldnât be that mad if you showed up and found the place covered in pigeon imagery though - in reality you had to admit that you had a great deal of admiration for Satoruâs talent in committing to a bit.Â
With how nice Satoru, and Sukunaâs other friends, had been to you since your boyfriend had told them about your relationship, you were actually looking forward to the party. It would be nice to see your friends too, and knowing that Sukuna was there at your side, with his bedroom to retreat to if things got too overwhelming, you were determined to actually have fun.Â
That anxiety that crawled up your throat all too often following your fatherâs passing could take a hike, you werenât going to let it ruin your last few weeks of university.Â
âWe should probably start getting ready. Weâre meant to be there at eight, right?â You asked, checking the clock and realising that it was already half past seven.Â
âYeah, but youâre the guest of honor so it's fine if weâre late.â Yuki said before sitting up and stretching in a cat-like manner, her crop top riding up slightly. âGot something cute to wear for your boyfriend?âÂ
She drew out the word in a teasing way that had you cringing, face turning red as Shoko erupted into laughter beside you. You knew that you were in for a whole lot of mocking over the next few weeks and you werenât sure that you were prepared for it. But regardless, it felt nice to laugh with them again.Â
It was a shame that youâd wasted so much time apart from them when you withdrew following the Hiromi incident, you wondered how different things couldâve been if youâd just trusted them from the start. Although, the series of events that led to you meeting Sukuna mightâve changed in that case and you certainly didnât want that.Â
Perhaps things were meant to happen in a certain way for a reason.Â
Either way, you wouldnât be pushing them away again any time soon.Â
â
It was almost nine by the time you arrived at Sukunaâs place, largely due to Yukiâs indecision surrounding what to wear. Nanami and Ino were already there, seemingly on their second or third drink of the evening, already engaged in some drinking game with Satoru and Suguru.Â
Sukuna and Choso were both lazing on the sofa, seemingly fixated on some terrible movie, hardly noticing the door opening until Yuki was practically jumping on Choso, wrapping her arms around him enthusiastically. Sukuna peered over his shoulder, red eyes lighting up at the sight of you.Â
He was on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around you and planting a soft kiss on your lips. âYou look pretty,â he said as he pulled back, taking a moment to appreciate the dress that youâd chosen just for him.Â
âThanks,â you returned softly, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes and kissing him once more.Â
Shoko made faux vomiting sounds in the background, rolling her pretty brown eyes. âYou guys are gross,â she said. You werenât sure if she was referring to you or to Yuki, who was already on Chosoâs lap, unashamedly making out with him on the sofa. She had a tendency for PDA when drunk, and sheâd already downed a couple of glasses of wine whilst you were getting ready.Â
Hearing the commotion, Satoru came running from the other room, splashing his drink over the side of his cup but acting like he didnât notice, even when Toji yelled at him to watch it. âWelcome back!â Satoru exclaimed with a wide grin, barrelling towards you with the intent of giving you a hug only to think better of it upon seeing Sukunaâs cold expression.Â
He halted just before you instead, smiling impishly and pointing up at the banner heâd created for you. Sukuna rolled his eyes, but you couldnât help but beam at the site of the blue banner which read Welcome Home in massive letters followed by tiny brackets reading (-ing pigeon).Â
Shoko tilted her head at the sign, brows furrowing in confusion. âWelcome Homing Pigeon? What the hell does that mean?â
Satoru pouted, pointing at the image on the banner as if it was obvious. âThis is a homing pigeon, so the pun is like, instead of welcome home, it's welcome homing pigeon.â The room fell silent for a moment, Satoruâs explanation largely falling flat.
Sukuna sighed, running a hand through his hair. âSorry,â he spoke in a low voice. âI tried to tell him that you didnât care about the bird stuff but he insisted. Apparently you always reply with interest when he sends you bird reels on instagram soâŠâÂ
There was a tone to Sukunaâs statement that was almost defeatist, as if to some extent he was saying that youâd dug your own grave for entertaining the man in the first place. Shoko was practically rolling with laughter, just about managing to point out that it wasnât a pun that made sense, to which Satoru grew very defensive.Â
âI like it,â you said, interrupting the two of them. Sukuna shot you a look like you were totally insane, but you didnât mind. Youâd learned over the last few months that Satoru was harmless, and youâd welcomed his regular messages. You were willing to throw him a bone where others would just call him a dumbass.Â
Whether youâd come to regret that at some point in the future, only time would tell.Â
âSee?â Satoru said, practically beaming. âI didnât make it for you, Shoko, so your opinion doesnât matter.âÂ
As the two descended into squabbling again, Sukuna tugged you by hand in the direction of the kitchen, proceeding to make you a drink - the same one youâd asked for the last time youâd visited for a party.Â
âIf he annoys you just tell me and Iâll kick him out,â Sukuna said, jabbing a finger in the direction of the door youâd come in through, where Satoruâs voice was still drifting from the living room.Â
âAs if,â you said with a giggle. âWhat did he think of the clown keychain you bought him?âÂ
Sukuna grinned. âHe was terrified of it. Literally threw it across the room and asked how I could be so cruel after he gave me such a thoughtful gift.âÂ
Only Satoru would think that an I like tits birding keychain would qualify as a thoughtful gift.Â
âAnyway, how are you feeling? You came here late so I thought you mightâve changed your mind about this whole thing.âÂ
You had texted him in advance to say that you were going to be a little late, but perhaps heâd just seen that as a cover. He was certain that youâd be hesitant to attend Satoruâs little party, and suspicious that you might just go along with things out of politeness rather than through an actual desire to take part.Â
It was sweet how protective he was of you, how willing he was to spurn his own friends for the sake of your comfort.Â
Part of you wondered if it was partially for selfish reasons - a desire to keep you all to himself rather than share you with his friends in any manner. It was a possessiveness that you liked about him, as long as it was driven in a healthy manner as opposed to the control that Hiromi had exerted over you.Â
âIâm all good, Sukuna,â you said with a smile. âThis is nice.âÂ
He hummed softly. âGood, but if you just wanna go hang out in my room, just let me know.âÂ
The evening went by in a manner far preferable to your last party at Sukunaâs house. It was nice that the attendees were restricted down to only people that you actually knew - it gave off a much more intimate and friendly vibe, one that didnât have your anxiety consuming you.Â
It was still the classic party atmosphere though - games of beer pong, in which you and Sukuna thoroughly trounced Yuki and Choso, both of whom were already far too wasted to throw straight by the time you got around to playing them. However, you did end up losing to Toji and Shoko, who were both incredibly good shots, and worked together startlingly well as a team.Â
After that, you were sufficiently tipsy and up for playing truth or dare, an unpopular and childish suggestion from Satoru, but one that everyone ultimately went along with because you were the guest of honor and youâd agreed to his request, which meant that everyone had to.Â
A lot of it was a blur from that point onwards. You could remember playing the game for a while, and the image of Sukunaâs face turning a deep shade of crimson after being asked a truth by Toji was burned into your mind, but the actual contents of the questions or dares was lost to you with each additional sip of alcohol.Â
You didnât mind, it was probably one of those things best left unremembered. All that mattered was that you were having a good time.Â
As the night dragged on, Suguru suggested that you all play Ring of Fire, something that Sukuna gently suggested that you sit out on account of how much you were swaying on your feet by that point. Heâd sat you down on the sofa and wrapped a blanket around you, placing a plastic cup of water in your hands.
Heâd gone back to rejoin the circle, keeping an eye on you, only to be chastised by a drunk Satoru who proclaimed that youâd be lonely and that heâd keep you company while the others played. No protests from Sukuna seemed to be enough, which was how you ended up listening to Satoru ramble on owls for twenty minutes, barely managing to keep your eyes open.Â
You were only aware that Satoru had finished his tirade on nocturnal birds and moved on to something else when he nudged you in the arm firmly, letting you know that heâd asked you a question and youâd failed to answer, your mind somewhere else entirely. In your defence, it was hard to focus on Satoru when Sukuna was sitting on the floor in front of you, arms propped behind his head, putting his muscles on display.Â
âI said, whatâre you doing after this?âÂ
âHuh? Sleeping in Sukunaâs room, probably,â you responded. You couldnât quite understand his question, your brain foggy from too much alcohol.Â
âNooo. I donât mean after this. Like, after graduation.âÂ
You werenât quite sure how he got onto this topic, but you could only imagine that his bird related rant had included some insight into what his future held. Heâd mentioned something about a long term expedition that he wanted to go on, so that mustâve been him explaining his future plans.Â
How nice it must be to have such clarity on your future.Â
You really didnât have any.Â
Beyond wanting to be with Sukuna, youâd been living in survival mode for too long to have a clear grip on what else you wanted. Giving a proper answer when you were this drunk was probably out of the question too.Â
âI donât know,â you mumbled, a little more defensively than youâd really intended to, frustrated that you didnât have an easy answer to hand. Youâd worked hard your whole life, had always achieved top grades, and yet here you were - weeks away from finishing education for good, and zero plans around what you were actually going to do.Â
âI thought youâd keep working at that bakery.âÂ
You froze, not expecting Satoruâs offhanded comment. You were pretty certain that Sukuna had told them about your fatherâs passing, but you supposed Satoru wouldnât be aware of the particulars surrounding the bakeryâs ownership. He probably thought that operations had gone on as normal, and someone else in your family had taken over.Â
âIt's closed now,â you responded with a shrug. âMy dadâs gone, soâŠâÂ
Satoru froze up beside you, covering his mouth like heâd said something wrong. Sukuna, whoâd been half listening while engaging in his drinking game, twisted around to glare at his friend for so callously broaching the topic that heâd certainly warned them not to bring up.
âSorry, I thought-â He sighed. âSorry.âÂ
âIt's okay.â You smiled at him reassuringly. âI could keep working at the bakery if I wanted. It technically belongs to me now.âÂ
Satoru lit up with a smile. âThatâs so cool! You should totally do that!âÂ
Sukuna had gone back to his game, and you werenât quite sure if he was still listening. Satoru was babbling excitedly about how much heâd love to have a friend who owned a bakery, and how heâd be there every day to get his sweet fix. All you could think about was whether Sukuna would think it would be a good idea.Â
Owning a business was stressful, and you werenât sure if heâd want the additional pressure of having to deal with that at your side. Youâd seen issues arise between your own parents over matters like overcommitting to work, and you didnât want running the bakery to impact your relationship with Sukuna.Â
That was assuming that the bakery was really what you wanted at all.Â
âMan, I always wanted to go to your bakery,â Satoru said with a pout. âSukuna said it was really good.âÂ
âYou didnât get to go?â You asked, with a tilt of your head. You figured that Sukuna wouldâve taken him there at some point, considering that Satoruâs sweet tooth was allegedly something to be feared.Â
âNo, Sukuna was always weirdly protective of it.âÂ
You chuckled softly, wondering if Sukuna was scowling right now, currently unable to see his face. You could understand the sentiment - your boyfriend had grown to consider that place as sacred, somewhere that he could go and be the person that you saw, rather than the Sukuna that everyone else saw.Â
It didnât surprise you that he wanted to keep that from Satoru.Â
âWell, if I end up opening the place up again, you can be my first customer.âÂ
âReally?â Satoruâs blue eyes were alight with enthusiasm.Â
Your first customer would actually be Sukuna, you were certain of that, but Satoru certainly didnât need to be privy to that information.Â
âThe baked goods wonât be as good as what my dad used to make, but yeah, sure.â
â
Later that night, you found yourself in Sukunaâs room. You felt a little dizzy - you hadnât had alcohol in a while, and that had really come back to bite you. You didnât really mind though, it felt nice to have that weird ethereal feeling that youâd sometimes get, especially when you were safe in the comfort of Sukunaâs arms.Â
Sukuna was talking to you about something, you were a little too zoned out to really understand what. As far as you could tell, it was regarding some new game heâd been playing, something about building a deck of cards - but it was hard to follow anything after that point.Â
You rested your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as you let his deep tone comfort you. There was no one that you felt more content to be beside, a complete turn around from the last time youâd found yourself in his room after a party, where everything had gone wrong because you couldnât hold it together.Â
It was lucky that Sukuna hadnât given up on you at that point. You were glad that he considered you to be worth the effort.Â
âFeeling sleepy, angel?â He asked, brushing your hair softly with his hand.Â
You hadnât realised that your eyes had fluttered shut until his question drew you back to reality. âMmm, sorry, I swear I was listening,â you mumbled.Â
âOh Iâm sure.âÂ
The teasing lilt to his voice wasnât lost on you, but you were too tired to really disagree. Instead, you gazed up at him with heavy eyes, studying the beautiful details of his face, as if you hadnât spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at him already.Â
âSee something you like?â He asked.Â
âAlways.âÂ
He leant forward with a grin, lips brushing against yours for a sweet moment before he hesitated. âNot gonna run away this time, right?â He asked, a glimmer of amusement in his crimson eyes.Â
You pouted at his recollection of the memory, even if it still hung heavy in your mind. You couldnât be further away from that day that you fled from his room - there was nowhere youâd rather be than at his side.Â
âAbsolutely not.âÂ
âGood.âÂ
His lips found yours, hands cradling your face softly for a moment before moving to pull you into his lap, holding you close as you lost yourself in the sensation of his kiss, heart still fluttering with the same intensity as the first time heâd kissed you in this spot, but with none of the fear and uncertainty from before.Â
When he finally broke away, you were both breathless, his hands keeping you pressed against him, while yours settled against his shoulders, relying on him to keep you balanced atop his legs. His forehead bumped gently against yours, and you thought heâd pull you in for another kiss, only for him to just hold you there for a moment.Â
âI overheard what you said to Satoru.âÂ
You tilted your head, thinking back to the conversation youâd held with the man earlier that evening. You might as well have discussed everything under the sun, so you really needed Sukuna to narrow things down a little.Â
âAbout the bakery.âÂ
âOh, yeah.â You giggled a little nervously. What youâd told Satoru had been more of an impulse than anything else, you hadnât given any thought to the fate of your familyâs bakery before heâd outright asked you, and the words had just tumbled out of your mouth.Â
In reality, you didnât know if youâd keep the place. It was a nice fantasy, a pleasant way to uphold your fatherâs memory, but it wasnât like running a business was easy, and your father certainly hadnât been rolling in money. Perhaps you could refurbish it into something else, still keep the place running but in a different form.Â
Right now it was nothing more than a fantasy. You had no idea what youâd actually do, only time would tell. However, there was a reason that youâd given that impulsive answer to Satoru, and it was because, in your heart, you were keen to keep the bakery as yours.Â
The idea of selling it was far more painful than the idea of slaving away to keep it open. Your fatherâs soul was in that place, and you werenât keen to cast it aside so quickly. At the very least, you wouldnât sell the place until you were absolutely sure that was what you wanted.Â
âYou hadnât told me you might reopen it,â Sukuna said.Â
âI didnât really know. I still donât know.â You shrugged, letting out a little huff of air, far too tipsy to be explaining thoughts surrounding your future. âThereâs just a part of me that thinks it would be nice.âÂ
Sukuna hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. âJust make sure youâre doing it for the right reasons.âÂ
âHuh?â You tilted your head a little.Â
âYouâre always putting others first, I saw you run yourself ragged trying to get everything done when your dad was still alive. If youâre doing this just to honor his memory, rather than it being the life you want to live, you shouldnât do it.â
Sukunaâs ability to understand your thinking process was always a little scary, and you chewed on his words for a little bit. You werenât sure if it would be solely for the sake of honoring his memory. More and more youâd lost sight of what you actually wanted outside of university. You loved literature, but you werenât really sure where to go with it, whether you even wanted to go anywhere with it.Â
The more you considered the future the more you fretted that youâd just end up in some boring corporate job, and the bakery was an opportunity to do something else, assuming you were willing to take it.Â
âI know thatâŠI just don't really understand what I want right now. Other than, well, you.â You clarified with a soft giggle, pressing a soft kiss to Sukunaâs lips that had him grinning from ear to ear. It was hard to tell in the low lighting, but you were certain he was blushing.Â
âYouâve got time to figure it out. If the bakery is what you want to do then I can help you every step of the way. And if it isnât then we can figure that out too.âÂ
âYou donât need to burden yourself if I end up starting the business again, youâll have your own stuff to deal with-âÂ
His fingers came to your mouth, leaving you stalling halfway through your sentence, not quite sure what he was doing. His expression was serious, with a hint of humor sparkling behind his stern gaze.Â
âHow many times do I need to tell you that when it comes to you, nothing is a burden?âÂ
Pouting, you averted your gaze, aware that this wasnât a conversation that would ever have you coming out on top. Sukuna had a point, heâd demonstrated his willingness to go above and beyond for you time and time again. The word burden should be erased from your dictionary when dealing with him.Â
âUntil it sticks, I guess,â you murmured, eyes downcast like a schoolchild whoâd just been reprimanded.Â
âIâll say it as many times as you need.â He grinned, kissing you hard. âYouâre such a dumbass.âÂ
âI am not.âÂ
âAre too.â
He didnât allow you to bite back for another round, bringing his lips to yours once more, and once again making sure that you lost yourself in his kiss, in the warmth of his embrace.Â
âI love you, dumbass,â he murmured.Â
âI love you too, Sukuna.âÂ
a/n: the next chapter of this fic will be the final one! thank you for sticking with me through the long waits!
I started writing this fic as a way of coping with some personal struggles in my life that I've now overcome (partially thanks to this fic!), and being more removed from those feelings has made writing these last few chapters difficult! HOWEVER, I'll never abandon a fic and I'll push through and get you that final chapter soon <3
thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are appreciated, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic! <3
Can someone tell me why all Sukugo fanart looks so soft and beautiful like???? The way people draw them is gorgeous, like not even Satosugu gets drawn like that sometimes đ
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