kentobb

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive Content +18

Chapter 07

You walk into your dorm, shutting the door softly behind you. The room is quiet, save for the faint rustling of papers. As you set your keys on the desk, your eyes fall on Shoko, lounging on her bed with a book in her lap. She looks up at you, her gaze sharp and curious, a knowing smirk already forming on her lips.

“You’re back later than I thought,” she says casually, though her tone suggests she’s fishing for information. “Where were you?”

You pause for a moment, contemplating how much to say, but her expectant stare makes you feel like you’re under a spotlight. “I, uh… I went to see Gojo,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Shoko’s smirk deepens as she sits up, closing her book. “Gojo?” she repeats, dragging out his name like she’s savoring the sound of it. “Interesting. And what, pray tell, were you doing with Gojo?”

You feel your cheeks grow warm as you try to brush it off. “Nothing much. I just wanted to thank him… you know, for helping me.”

Her eyes gleam with mischief, and she tilts her head. “Oh, just to thank him?” she asks, clearly not buying it.

You shift uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. “Yes. That’s all it was,” you insist, though the memory of the almost-kiss flashes in your mind.

Shoko isn’t one to be deterred. “You’re blushing,” she points out with a grin. “Something else definitely happened. Come on, spill.”

You groan softly, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know, okay? I think…” You hesitate, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. Finally, you take a deep breath and confess, “I think we were about to… kiss.”

For a moment, Shoko just stares at you, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Then, she bursts out laughing, the sound bright and loud as it fills the room. “You’re joking,” she says between giggles, though the look on your face tells her you’re not. “Oh my god, you and Gojo were about to kiss? That’s priceless.”

You bury your face in your hands, mortified. “It didn’t happen,” you mumble through your fingers.

Shoko grabs your wrist and pulls you onto her bed, her excitement practically radiating off her. “Details. Now,” she demands, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What do you mean ‘about to kiss’? What stopped it?”

You sigh, reluctantly recounting the moment. “We were standing there, really close, and then… someone knocked on the door. That was it. Nothing happened.”

Shoko shakes her head in disbelief. “Still, that’s huge,” she says. “Gojo likes you. It’s so obvious.”

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “No, he doesn’t,” you protest.

Shoko raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious? He was all over you at the party. He blushes when you walk or breathe near him. You don’t do that for someone you don’t care about.”

You hesitate, her words making your heart race, but doubt quickly clouds your thoughts. “Someone like him wouldn’t like someone like me,” you mutter.

Shoko frowns. “Someone like him?”

You nod, struggling to find the right words. “He’s… Gojo. He’s confident, popular, good-looking. Everyone loves him. He’s always surrounded by people. I’m just… me. Why would someone like him ever be interested in someone like me?”

Shoko lets out a loud sigh, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’re impossible,” she says. “He’s into you. It’s so painfully obvious that even Nanami probably notices, and that guy’s oblivious to everything.”

You look down at your hands, your fingers fidgeting. “I don’t know,” you say softly.

Shoko narrows her eyes at you, studying your expression. “Wait a second,” she says slowly, suspicion creeping into her voice. “You’re acting weird. Do you like someone else?”

Your stomach twists, and your silence is all the confirmation she needs. Shoko gasps, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god,” she says, her voice full of disbelief. “You do! Who is it?”

You shake your head quickly, trying to dismiss her. “It’s no one,” you say, but the flush on your cheeks gives you away.

Shoko leans in closer, her grin turning wicked. “It’s definitely someone,” she says. “Come on, who is it?”

After a long pause, you finally let out a small sigh. “I’ve liked him since middle school,” you admit quietly. “But he never looked my way.”

Shoko’s brow furrows as she tries to piece it together. “Middle school?” she repeats. “Who are you talking about?”

You take a deep breath, your voice barely audible as you whisper, “Sukuna.”

The name hangs in the air like a thunderclap. Shoko stares at you, her mouth open in shock. “Sukuna?” she says, as if she didn’t hear you correctly. “Sukuna Sukuna?”

You nod, avoiding her gaze.

Shoko groans, flopping back onto her bed dramatically. “No, no, no,” she says, shaking her head. “You can’t fall in love with Sukuna.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Shoko sits up, looking at you seriously. “First of all, Sukuna is a heartbreaker. He’s notorious for leaving girls in tears. Secondly, he’s a total manwhore. And lastly, Sukuna doesn’t fall in love. Ever.”

You meet her gaze, your voice soft but determined. “I’ve liked him for years, Shoko.”

Shoko looks at you for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “I love killer whales,” she says dramatically. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into the ocean and try to pet one!”

You can’t help but laugh softly at her comparison, but the weight of her words lingers. “It’s not like I can just stop liking him,” you say quietly.

Shoko places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I know,” she says gently. “But maybe… just be careful. Sukuna’s not exactly the safe choice.”

Yuuji sits at his desk, his textbook open and a highlighter pinched between his teeth as he scans the pages for more key points to mark. The room is quiet, save for the faint scratching of his pen against the paper. He’s just about to settle into the rhythm of his study session when the door creaks open.

Sukuna steps in, his usual confidence noticeably absent. He doesn’t say anything, just walks to the kitchen, grabs a glass of water, and slumps onto the couch.

Yuuji glances at him, eyebrows furrowed. He takes the highlighter out of his mouth, setting it and the book aside. “You good?” he asks, his tone cautious.

Sukuna doesn’t answer, staring into his glass like it holds the solution to his inner turmoil.

Yuuji frowns. “If this is about the suspension,” he begins, trying to sound reassuring, “don’t stress. I can ask some classmates to send you the notes for the classes you—”

“I like her,” Sukuna blurts out, cutting him off.

Yuuji freezes. For a moment, he wonders if he misheard. He blinks at Sukuna, who looks almost… vulnerable.

“What?” Yuuji asks, needing confirmation.

Sukuna leans back against the couch, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His voice is quieter this time, but there’s an undeniable weight behind it. “I like her.”

It clicks. Yuuji knows exactly who Sukuna means, and it renders him speechless. This was the same guy who, not too long ago, had scoffed and said he’d never fall for a “nerd.”

Sukuna sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he mutters. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. When I saw her dancing at the party, I couldn’t stop watching. And when I saw Gojo’s hands on her waist…” He clenches his fists. “I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

Yuuji leans forward, his jaw slightly slack. He’s trying to process this—his brother is actually down bad.

“And then today,” Sukuna continues, his voice dipping lower, “seeing her at Gojo’s dorm… I couldn’t think straight. It was like—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if words can’t fully capture what he’s feeling.

Yuuji watches him in disbelief. This wasn’t the same Sukuna who dated Mei Mei with zero emotional attachment or who treated his flings like passing distractions. This was different.

“You’re serious,” Yuuji says, still trying to wrap his head around it.

Sukuna glares at him. “Of course, I’m serious,” he snaps. “Why would I say this if I wasn’t?”

Yuuji sits back in his chair, his lips twitching as a grin threatens to form. “Wow. You’re in deep, huh?”

Sukuna groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know what to do with all of this,” he admits. “These… emotions.”

“What do you mean?” Yuuji asks, genuinely curious now.

Sukuna hesitates, staring into his water glass again. “I don’t know how to… win her. Or… conquer her. Or whatever the hell it’s supposed to be.”

Yuuji blinks, and then it hits him. His brother, the ever-confident Sukuna, was clueless. Yuuji’s mouth falls open. “Are you serious right now?”

Sukuna scowls. “What?”

“You really don’t know how to make a girl like you?” Yuuji says, incredulous. A slow grin spreads across his face, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “This is gold.”

Sukuna groans again, louder this time. “I knew this was a mistake,” he mutters.

Yuuji waves him off, his grin widening. “No, no, you came to the right person,” he says, relishing the rare opportunity to have the upper hand. “Okay, first off, you can’t go in with your usual… you know, Sukuna-ness. Girls like it when a guy is gentle. Like, maybe compliment her or—”

“Stop,” Sukuna interrupts, already regretting this.

But Yuuji isn’t done. “Or you could be flirty but not overdo it. Like, don’t just say she looks good—say something specific. ‘I like the way your smile lights up the room’ or something.”

Sukuna glares at him, his ears turning red. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters.

Yuuji snickers. “I’m serious! You could even try doing something thoughtful, like bringing her coffee or helping her with—”

“Stop talking,” Sukuna growls, his voice laced with embarrassment.

Yuuji finally bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re actually flustered,” he teases. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Sukuna rubs his temples, trying to suppress the urge to throw the nearest object at his brother. “I hate you,” he mutters.

Yuuji leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”

Sukuna leans back on the couch, folding his arms and rolling his eyes in annoyance, though the slight flush in his cheeks betrays his flustered state.

Yuuji, now thoroughly entertained, leans forward, resting his chin on his hands. “Okay, real question,” he begins. “Is she and Gojo good friends?”

Sukuna snorts. “Not really,” he says with a shrug. “Gojo doesn’t hang out with people like her. Smart, focused… you know, the opposite of him.”

Yuuji raises a brow. “You really think he likes her, huh?”

Sukuna shrugs again but avoids eye contact. “Ever since the party, I’ve been suspicious. The way he danced with her, the way he looks at her…” His voice trails off, and his jaw tightens.

Yuuji tilts his head. “Did you ask him?”

Sukuna glares at him like the answer is obvious. “Of course, I did.”

“And what did he say?”

Sukuna huffs, running a hand through his hair. “He said no. But I don’t believe him.”

Yuuji shrugs. “Then go for it,” he says simply. “You and Gojo have been best friends since you were kids, right? Why would he lie to you?”

Sukuna’s gaze hardens. “Because I know he likes her,” he insists.

Yuuji holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Or maybe,” he says slowly, “it’s just the jealousy speaking.”

Sukuna narrows his eyes. “Shut up.”

Yuuji snickers, shaking his head. “Okay, Mr. Defensive.”

Sukuna shifts uncomfortably, his tone more serious now. “He asked me if I liked her,” he mutters.

Yuuji straightens up, his interest piqued. “And what did you say?”

Sukuna sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I said no, obviously.”

Yuuji stares at him, dumbfounded. “You’re an idiot,” he says flatly.

Sukuna glares at him. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Yeah, I like her, and every time I see her, my brain turns into mush’? No, thanks.”

Yuuji bursts into laughter. “Dude, you’re hopeless. How do you not know what to do with this?”

Sukuna groans, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know, okay? I’ve never felt this way before, and it’s… it’s embarrassing.”

Yuuji grins, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

Sukuna mutters something under his breath, his frustration palpable. Yuuji just chuckles, shaking his head at his brother’s rare moment of vulnerability.

Geto sits in the dean’s office, his posture relaxed and his expression unreadable, as though the tension in the air doesn’t faze him. Across from him, the dean narrows his eyes, arms folded across his chest as he studies the young man.

“Let me get this straight,” the dean begins, his tone clipped. “You expect me to believe that Mahito and Jogo just happened to be found beaten up like that?”

Geto tilts his head slightly, offering a small, casual nod. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The dean raises a brow, unimpressed. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Sukuna and Gojo had something to do with it.”

Geto leans forward slightly, his tone still calm but firm. “And yet, you don’t have any proof that they did.”

The dean blinks at him, momentarily stunned by the audacity of the response. “Proof or not, everyone knows it was them. They’ve been suspended before for fights like this. Do you really expect me to just overlook it this time?”

Geto smirks faintly, his confidence unwavering. “What I expect is for you to understand that we need our best players for the game on Friday. Sukuna and Gojo are essential. Without them, we’ll lose.”

The dean slams a hand on the desk, his frustration boiling over. “That’s not happening, Geto. I don’t care how essential they are. Violence, is not permitted in this facility. They broke the rules and there will be consequences.”

Geto doesn’t flinch, meeting the dean’s gaze steadily. “With all due respect, sir, you can ask the entire team and everyone else on campus. No one saw anything.”

The dean scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “And you think I don’t know why that is? Everyone is protecting them. It’s obvious.”

Geto shrugs, unbothered. “Or maybe it’s because no one actually saw anything happen. You can’t punish them without evidence, and right now, you don’t have any.”

The dean stares at him, his frustration palpable as he realizes the standoff isn’t going in his favor. Geto’s calm demeanor only makes it worse, the younger man holding all the cards while the dean’s hands are tied by protocol.

The dean exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans back in his chair. “Fine, Geto. I’ll see what I can do. But let me make this clear—I can’t make any promises.”

Geto’s smirk widens slightly, his victory subtle but evident in his demeanor. “That’s all I’m asking, sir. Just take a closer look at the situation.”

The dean narrows his eyes. “This doesn’t mean they’re off the hook. I’m not going to ignore what happened just because you want to keep them on the field.”

“I understand,” Geto says smoothly, nodding as if in agreement. “But I think you’ll find that there’s no concrete reason to keep them off the team.”

The dean shakes his head, clearly displeased but resigned. “Don’t make me regret this, Geto.”

“You won’t, sir,” Geto replies confidently. He straightens his blazer and flashes a polite, calculated smile before turning toward the door.

As he leaves the office, his mind is already working on the next move, knowing he’s bought them some time—for now.

Geto walks out of the dean’s office, shutting the door behind him with a composed expression. Waiting against the wall just outside, Gojo straightens, his arms crossed over his chest. “Well?” he asks, his voice casual but laced with anticipation.

Geto shrugs, his demeanor cool. “I think it’s going a good way. The dean’s stubborn, but he knows he needs us for the game on Friday.”

A relieved smile spreads across Gojo’s face. “Knew you’d pull it off. You’re a miracle worker, Geto.”

As they begin walking down the corridor together, Geto smirks and glances sideways at him. “Speaking of miracles, I’ve got a date tonight with Shoko.”

Gojo lets out a laugh, his tone teasing. “Look at you, Mr. Smooth. Finally managed to charm her, huh?”

Geto chuckles. “Of course. But do you know what that means?”

Without missing a beat, Gojo quips, “That you’ll be too busy making googly eyes at her to answer my texts?”

Geto shakes his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “No, genius. It means you’ll be alone in your dorm tonight.”

Gojo stops mid-step, caught off guard. Geto pauses too, turning to look at him with a knowing smirk.

“And?” Gojo asks warily, already sensing where this is going.

“And,” Geto continues, “it’s the perfect opportunity to ask her out. Or, if you’re too chicken to say ‘date,’ call it a hangout.”

Gojo’s face flushes slightly, and he rubs the back of his neck, his usual confidence faltering. “I don’t know, man. What if it’s weird? What if she doesn’t want to—”

Geto interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Stop overthinking it. She does. Trust me.”

Gojo glances away, visibly flustered. “It’s not that easy, y’know? I can’t just… say, ‘Hey, wanna hang out?’ What if I screw it up?”

Geto raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Then you try again. Seriously, it’s not rocket science, Satoru. Just invite her to the movies. Easy, casual, no pressure.”

Gojo stays quiet, his nerves clearly getting the better of him.

Geto grins devilishly, leaning closer to nudge him with his elbow. “Don’t tell me the great Gojo Satoru is scared to ask out a girl.”

“I’m not scared!” Gojo protests, though his reddened ears betray him.

“Sure you’re not,” Geto teases, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re just overthinking it because she’s not like the other girls you flirt with.”

Gojo glares at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Shut up.”

“Make your move” Geto says with a smirk, clapping a hand on Gojo’s shoulder.

Gojo groans, but a small smile tugs at his lips. “Fine, fine.”

“You’d better,” Geto replies, his smirk widening as they continue walking. “Because if you chicken out, I’m never letting you live it down.”

Shoko is at her desk, carefully applying mascara as you sit cross-legged on your bed with a book open in front of you. The faint smell of her perfume lingers in the air as she leans closer to the mirror, making sure her eyeliner is perfect.

“How do I look?” she asks, turning toward you with a hopeful expression as she adjusts the hem of her dress.”

You glance up from your notes, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Really cute. You look great, Shoko.”

Her lips curl into a small, pleased smile. “I hope this date goes well.”

“It will,” you reassure her, your voice warm. Your eyes drift back to your book, your pen tapping lightly against the paper as you refocus on your studies.

Shoko narrows her eyes playfully. “You should relax tonight. Take the night off.”

You let out a soft laugh, not looking up. “And do what? Watch a movie or something?”

“Exactly,” she says, smoothing her hair. “Or go out and have fun. You’re always working so hard.”

You shake your head, giggling. “I have an important exam tomorrow. Can’t slack off now.”

“It’s a quiz, not an exam,” she counters, rolling her eyes.

You sigh, knowing she has a point but refusing to admit it. “Still important.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, and Shoko freezes for a moment. Her hand flies to her hair instinctively, checking if it’s still in place. “Oh my god, is it him?” she whispers, her voice tinged with nervous excitement.

“Probably,” you say with a teasing smile. “You look fine, Shoko. Don’t stress.”

“Fine? Just fine?” she asks, turning to you with mock outrage.

“Okay, okay,” you say, laughing. “You look amazing. He’s going to love it.”

Shoko takes a deep breath and nods. She walks to the door, smoothing her dress one last time before opening it.

Standing there is Geto, a soft smile on his face and a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. His eyes light up when he sees her. “You look beautiful,” he says warmly, holding out the flowers.

Shoko’s cheeks flush as she accepts them. “Thank you,” she says softly, her usual cool demeanor momentarily slipping.

Geto leans slightly to the side, spotting you on your bed. “Hey,” he says with a friendly wave.

You wave back, smiling. “Have fun, you two.”

As Shoko turns to leave, she pauses to shoot you a playful smirk. “Don’t study too hard. And maybe leave your dorm for once.”

You roll your eyes, grinning. “Goodbye, Shoko.”

She laughs, waving as she and Geto head down the hallway, leaving you in the quiet room with your books and thoughts.

Sukuna cursed under his breath as he walked alongside Yuuji, feeling more and more irritated with every step. The bright lights of the carnival and the sounds of laughter and excitement only seemed to make his mood worse.

“Why the hell am I here?” Sukuna muttered, his irritation evident in his voice.

Yuuji, completely oblivious to Sukuna’s annoyance, grinned. “To have fun, man! You need to loosen up!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. The carnival lights blared around him, casting a garish glow on everything. As Yuuji excitedly sprinted toward Nobara and Megumi, Sukuna muttered again, “Feels like I’m baby-sitting them.”

He pulled out his phone and shot Gojo a quick text, asking if he was busy. But after waiting for a few seconds and receiving no response, Sukuna let out a frustrated sigh. Figures. The guy never knows when to be serious.

He pocketed his phone and continued walking through the carnival, avoiding the increasingly annoying buzz of children’s laughter and the distracting sounds of carnival games.

Eventually, he saw the trio of troublemakers ahead. Yuuji was in the middle of an animated conversation with Megumi, while Nobara was eyeing a stall, her attention shifting between the colorful prizes and the amusement park food stands. Sukuna’s annoyance only deepened. What is this? A damn school trip?

As he approached, Nobara caught his eye. She glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of him. The corner of her lips curled into a teasing smirk, and she winked at him.

Sukuna’s face contorted in disgust, turning his gaze quickly to the other side to avoid acknowledging her. I don’t have time for this shit, he thought, grinding his teeth. The nerve of her.

Yuuji, still oblivious to Sukuna’s growing irritation, waved him over enthusiastically. “Yo, Sukuna! You should come try the ring toss!”

Sukuna shook his head. “Not interested.”

You were sitting at your desk, surrounded by books and notes, studying hard for an upcoming quiz. The soft hum of the night outside mixed with the quiet rustle of pages turned. You were so focused that you didn’t even hear the knock at first, but then it came again—gentler, like someone trying not to interrupt.

You stood up, stretching a little, still wearing your comfortable pajamas. As you opened the door, you froze for a moment, face flushing as you looked at Gojo standing there. The sight of him was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He looked effortless, like always, but tonight there was a subtle softness in his expression that caught your attention.

“Hey,” he greeted with that signature, confident smile of his. “Are you busy tonight?”

You blinked at him, still feeling a little surprised by his sudden appearance. “Well… I’m just studying for a quiz,” you said, fidgeting with the sleeve of your pajama top, trying to calm your nerves.

He tilted his head, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hmm. How about taking a break and going to the carnival with me?” he suggested casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “I’ve never been to a carnival,” you admitted, your voice a little quieter than usual.

Gojo’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. “Well, then, it’s the perfect opportunity to change that, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious excitement. There was a brief silence between you two as you both looked at each other, the soft tension hanging in the air.

“I’ll go get dressed,” you said, your voice a bit shy, but with a small smile that matched his. “Wait for me?”

“Of course,” Gojo replied, his smile still in place, his voice softening just slightly. “Take your time.”

As you closed the door, your heart thudded louder in your chest, the quiet rush of excitement mingling with a fluttering sensation in your stomach. You leaned against the door for a second, taking a deep breath before quickly changing into something more suitable. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, feeling like you might burst from happiness.

Meanwhile, outside the door, Gojo’s smile stretched wider. He didn’t realize how much he had been hoping for you to say yes until you did. He felt a flutter in his chest, the anticipation of your time together making his heart race in a way he wasn’t used to. It was almost like he was going to die from happiness.

Sukuna stood a little ways off from the bustling crowd at the carnival, his eyes fixed on Yuuji and Megumi, who were taking a ridiculous attempt at the “Ring Toss” game. Yuuji, as always, was way too eager, tossing rings with a sense of reckless abandon, while Megumi, ever the skeptic, looked like he was trying to calculate the probability of success. The rings flew everywhere but onto the pegs, and the booth operator was barely holding back a chuckle.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. “Idiots,” he grumbled, watching Yuuji nearly trip over his own feet while tossing a ring into the air.

Then, out of nowhere, Nobara appeared by his side. She gave him a flirtatious wink and leaned in just a little too close. “So, what’s a handsome guy like you doing all alone? Need some company?” she asked, batting her lashes.

Sukuna stared at her, completely unamused. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge her at first, instead watching as Yuuji flung another ring across the booth with all the grace of a drunken bird.

Nobara, undeterred, took a step closer. “Come on, you don’t have to act so aloof. Am I really not your type?”

Sukuna turned to her slowly, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disgust. “You could be my sister, so, no,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nobara blinked, clearly taken aback for a moment, but then she burst into laughter. “Oh really? A sister? That’s cold!” she teased, not even slightly fazed by his rude remark. “Maybe I just need to work a little harder to catch your eye!”

Sukuna’s face remained deadpan as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, clearly not in the mood. “Get away from me and play with your dolls.”

“I’m an adult you idiot.”

Still unfazed, Nobara continued to flirt shamelessly, completely amused by his obvious discomfort. Sukuna, now realizing this was going nowhere, pulled out his phone to check for any updates. He opened the messages and saw no response from Gojo. The message he’d sent earlier was still marked as “delivered,” but Gojo hadn’t bothered to reply yet.

Author’s note:

Hi Lovilies! 💞

Who doesn’t love cute chapters before the real tea. 🥰 This is going to get messy in two chapters… Tell us in the comment who team are you on (today, who knows tomorrow? 👀) #TeamGojo or #TeamSukuna?

Love you all!

A & D <3

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive Content. Strong Content (Violence, blood, mentions of sexual assault, etc) +18

Chapter 06

Sukuna stormed through the campus on Monday, the cold air doing little to settle the storm brewing inside him. He hadn’t heard from you in two days. No texts, no calls. Every message he’d sent had been met with silence.

As he walked toward the locker room, his eyes caught Shoko speaking with Geto. There was something in the way Shoko was standing—her posture stiff, brows furrowed in concern. Geto, on the other hand, had a look that Sukuna couldn’t quite place—something dark, almost like anger. Sukuna didn’t have the patience to stick around, though, so he ignored them and continued his path.

He dropped his things into his locker and gripped his fists tightly, fighting the rising anger in his chest. It wasn’t just about the silence from you; it was everything that had happened, everything that Mahito had done, and how it still echoed in his mind.

The door to the gym opened, and Sukuna could hear the distinct sound of footsteps. He turned just in time to see Mahito and Jogo walk in, talking as if nothing were wrong. Mahito grinned, his eyes catching Sukuna’s for a split second

“Yo, Sukuna!” Mahito called out, his voice oozing with arrogance. “You missed the rest of the party.”

Sukuna didn’t respond, just focused on slamming his locker shut. The sound echoed around the room. He wasn’t in the mood for this, not after everything.

Jogo, noticing the tension in the air, stepped slightly in front of Mahito, his eyes darting between the two of them. He tried giving Mahito a subtle look, a warning perhaps, but Mahito didn’t seem to get it.

“Hey, are you gonna ignore me, man?” Mahito said, his voice turning harder. “What’s up with you?”

Sukuna’s patience snapped. With a growl, he hit the locker again, this time harder than before. The metal rattled under the force, and Mahito flinched slightly, but his grin didn’t fade.

“Why the hell are you ignoring me?” Mahito spat, his voice now laced with irritation.

Sukuna took a step forward, his muscles tight, his eyes locked onto Mahito’s with a fury that burned in his chest. “Why did you touch her?” he asked, his voice dark and low, a warning in every syllable.

Mahito tilted his head, pretending to play dumb. “What the hell are you talking about, man? What touch?” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, like it didn’t matter.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, and the fury that had been building in him finally broke. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he growled, stepping closer. “Why. Did. You. Touch. Her?”

Mahito finally cracked a twisted smile, clearly mocking Sukuna. “Oh, so now you care about the little bitch?” He sneered. “It was a party. She was wearing something short, showing off her legs. If you dress like a whore, you shouldn’t expect to be treated like anything else.”

Sukuna's anger reached its peak, his body trembling with rage. He didn't even think about it; he just swung. His fist connected with Mahito's jaw with a sickening crack, and Mahito's body flew back, crashing to the floor.

The locker room went silent for a split second, everyone freezing in shock. Jogo immediately stepped forward, trying to break them apart, but Sukuna wasn't having it. His rage was blinding. He lunged forward, prepared to land another hit, but this time, Jogo caught him with a shove.

Mahito stood up painfully, his fit connecting to Sukuna’s jaw.

"Enough!" Jogo growled, trying to hold him back but Sukuna swung at him. Sukuna was too strong.

Before anyone could process the chaos, the door to the locker room swung open. Gojo strolled in, his usual carefree grin in place, oblivious to the scene unfolding. But the moment he saw Sukuna standing over Mahito, fists clenched, blood dripping from Mahito's face, his grin faltered.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Gojo shouted, rushing forward, his voice filled with both concern and confusion.

Mahito, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet, wiped blood from his mouth. His eyes narrowed, and with a growl, he swung at Sukuna, landing a punch to his stomach.

Gojo immediately stepped in, trying to separate them, his hands on both their chests as he shouted, "What the hell, Sukuna? What the hell is going on?!"

Sukuna glared at Mahito, his breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. "He groped her, Gojo," he said, the words barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of the world. "He groped Y/N."

The room fell silent. Gojo's eyes widened, and for the first time, he looked genuinely shaken. "He touched... Y/N?" he repeated, his voice almost trembling.

Mahito, still trying to recover, looked between Gojo and Sukuna, his smile faltering as he saw the raw rage in both of their eyes. Gojo's hands clenched into fists. "You're fucking dead, Mahito," Gojo said, his voice ice cold.

Without a second thought, Gojo turned and unleashed a series of punches on Mahito.

Mahito punching back, but after a while failing against Gojo.

Sukuna stood back for a moment, watching Gojo with a mix of concern and surprise.

Gojo's anger, the way he fought-he was losing himself to it, just like Sukuna had moments ago.

Sukuna stepped forward, trying to pull Gojo away, but Gojo's strength was like that of a god-there was no stopping him once he'd snapped.

"Gojo!" Sukuna shouted, grabbing his arm.

"If you don't stop, you’re going to kill him.”

But Gojo didn't stop. He continued to pound on Mahito, each blow landing harder than the last.

Finally, the door swung open again. Nanami and Geto both stormed in, their eyes immediately taking in the chaos. They didn't even hesitate-they moved quickly, using their strength to break up the fight. Nanami grabbed Gojo, pulling him back, while Geto stepped in between Sukuna and Mahito.

Geto surveyed the scene, his eyes flicking between the bloody mess on the floor and the anger in both Sukuna's and Gojo's faces.

"Gojo stop!" Geto demanded, his voice hard.

Sukuna looked at Mahito, still on the floor, his lip split and his eye swollen. Jogo was also down, nursing a bloody nose. Sukuna's fists were still clenched, his chest rising and falling with every breath. His eyes were wild with fury.

"Mahito..." Sukuna began, his voice dark.

"You'll never touch her again. I'll make sure of it."

Sukuna and Gojo stood outside the dean’s office, their faces bruised, but neither of them seemed to care in the slightest. They leaned casually against the wall, their expressions unreadable, the tension between them thick. Both had their own reasons for being there, but the bruises they sported were a clear testament to the chaos of the day.

As they waited, the door to the dean’s office swung open, and out walked Mahito and Jogo. Both were visibly bruised, their faces battered from the earlier confrontation. Mahito shot a hateful glare toward Sukuna and Gojo, his eyes seething with anger. Jogo, ever the quiet one, avoided their gaze completely, his expression hardened.

The door to the office slammed shut behind them, and the dean’s voice called out from inside, sounding stern and annoyed. “Sukuna, Gojo, get in here.”

The two of them exchanged a brief glance before heading inside, unfazed by the tension in the air. As the door closed behind them, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction—Mahito deserved every bruise.

From afar, Shoko watched the entire scene unfold, her eyes darting between the four men. Standing next to her was Geto, who had been silently observing everything. He crossed his arms, still processing what had happened.

“I didn’t expect anything less from Gojo,” Geto muttered, glancing at the door where Mahito and Jogo had just left. “But Sukuna’s reaction… that’s new.”

Shoko’s gaze was fixed on the floor, her mind clearly somewhere else, her face an unreadable mask. “I don’t know what to make of it,” she said quietly, her voice laced with concern.

Geto raised an eyebrow, sensing something more beneath her words. “I didn’t know they were close. Did Y/N tell you she was close to Sukuna?” he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

Shoko shook her head, a faint sigh escaping her lips. “You know Y/N. She doesn’t really have friends.” Her words were soft, but the weight of them hung in the air, a reminder of how isolated you often felt, despite the people around you.

Geto looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “How’s she holding up?”

Shoko hesitated for a second, clearly troubled by the situation. “She skipped class today… I don’t think she’s ready to face anyone yet.”

Geto’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything more. The news of you skipping class was no surprise to him—it was just one more symptom of the aftermath.

Shoko turned her gaze toward the dean’s office again, her expression hardening. “And what are you going to do about Mahito and Jogo?”

Geto’s face was calm, but there was a slight edge to his words. “They’re being kicked out. They don’t deserve to stay here after what they did.”

Shoko nodded silently, her eyes betraying a deep sadness that she didn’t want to show. There was little more to say on the matter. The decision had already been made.

After a brief silence, Shoko spoke again, her voice quieter now. “And what about Sukuna and Gojo?”

Geto tilted his head slightly, almost surprised by the question. “What about them?”

Shoko’s eyes met his, her gaze steady. “Are you going to kick them out too?”

A small smirk played at the corner of Geto’s mouth as he shrugged. “We didn’t see anything, did we?” He leaned in, his tone lowering as if it were a secret. “When the team arrived, all we saw were Mahito and Jogo on the floor, beaten to a pulp. The rest is just… speculation.”

Shoko’s lips curved upward in a small, knowing smile. She didn’t press him further, but the understanding between them was clear.

Geto glanced at her, his face unreadable, but he nodded in acknowledgment. “I didn’t see anything either,” he said flatly, standing up from his seat. “Let’s go.”

Shoko followed suit, rising from her spot. They made their way to the door, and as they left, there was an unspoken agreement between them. They’d cover for Sukuna and Gojo, just as they had done countless times before. But even so, the tension between the two men was far from over, and the repercussions of what had happened today were only just beginning to unfold.

You sat on your bed, your face red and swollen from all the tears, the weight of everything that had happened feeling almost unbearable. The silence in your room was thick, and you felt as though you couldn’t breathe properly. The faint sound of a knock on your door broke through the stillness, making you flinch. Slowly, you stood up, the sweater you were wearing hanging loosely over your body, paired with sweatpants that did nothing to ease the heavy feeling in your chest. You hesitated, almost as if afraid of what you might see, before you opened the door.

Standing there was Sukuna, his bruised face a stark contrast to his usual cocky demeanor. A small bandage covered a cut on his lip, and his eyes were heavy, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He looked at you for a long moment, his gaze unreadable, before he spoke.

“You don’t have to worry about Mahito or Jogo anymore,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You froze, your heart sinking as your hands instinctively moved to cover your mouth. Your thoughts swirled around, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Slowly, you pieced it together, the fear for Sukuna’s safety seeping into your veins.

You opened your mouth to ask, but the words got stuck. Finally, you managed to say, “What happened?”

Sukuna let out a long sigh, as if the weight of what he was about to tell you was still fresh. “Me and Gojo… we gave Mahito a lesson,” he said, a flicker of something dark in his eyes, like he was trying to downplay it. But the intensity in his tone told you it was far more than just a lesson. It was a warning.

Your mind went blank, the gravity of the situation settling in. The fact that Mahito and Jogo were no longer a threat to you left you feeling a strange mixture of relief and guilt. But then Sukuna’s next words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“I was suspended for a week. Along with Gojo.”

You felt your stomach drop. You had no idea what had happened, but the consequences were real. You felt the sting of his words, and your chest tightened. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.

Sukuna stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and with surprising gentleness, he cupped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said, his voice soft, though there was an edge to it—like he was trying to hold everything together. “This isn’t your fault.”

You shook in front of him, your body trembling as you processed everything, your mind racing. The rush of emotions was almost too much to bear. Sukuna’s touch was warm against your skin, but it felt like a world apart from the chaos in your head. His hand lingered on your chin for a moment before he pulled it away, his fingers brushing against your skin as if reluctant to let go.

He took a step back, and for a second, you thought he might say something else—something to break the silence that felt suffocating. But instead, he simply stared at you, his eyes intense, and you could feel the weight of his gaze deep in your chest. It was like he could see straight through you, and for a brief moment, you felt like you were about to drown in the emotions swirling between you.

Then, without a word, Sukuna turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, unable to move, your thoughts a tangled mess. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence returned. But this time, it felt emptier. More final.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the room closing in around you. You wanted to say something—to stop him, to ask him to stay, to ask how he was really feeling—but the words got lost somewhere deep inside you. And now, all you had left was the sound of your own heartbeat and the echo of his footsteps fading down the hallway.

It wasn’t until the door had fully closed, the distant sounds of the campus muffled in your ears, that you let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling at your sides. The weight of everything—what had happened, what was still happening—pressed down on you.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever be able to find a way through it.

Mahito and Jogo limped into the parking lot, their bruises still fresh from the fight. Mahito winced with each step, clearly in pain, his temper flaring with every passing moment. “This is bullshit,” he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. Jogo, though just as battered, remained silent for a moment before speaking up.

“They’re going to pay,” Jogo said through clenched teeth, his anger evident in the way his fists tightened at his sides. He didn’t need to elaborate—both of them knew exactly who he was referring to.

As they reached the parking spaces where their cars were parked, the sight that greeted them sent a wave of disbelief through their already frayed nerves. Both of their cars had their tires slashed, the rubber deflated and useless. Mahito stood frozen for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he took in the damage.

“What the hell?!” Mahito barked, looking around, his hands balled into fists. “Who the fuck did this?!”

Before either of them could react further, they saw Shoko standing there, calmly holding a tire iron in her hand, the weapon gleaming in the low light. She hadn’t said a word, but the silence between them was heavy, filled with the promise of something much worse than they could imagine.

Mahito sneered, his usual bravado returning. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered under his breath, clearly not intimidated. He took a step toward her, but before he could get any closer, Shoko moved with surprising speed. Her hand whipped across his face in a sharp slap, the sound of it echoing through the parking lot.

Mahito stood there, stunned, his hand slowly rising to his cheek, where the imprint of her slap was already forming. He was speechless for a moment, his pride taking a bigger hit than the bruise on his face.

Shoko didn’t give him a chance to recover. Her voice was icy and full of authority. “If I ever see you around Y/N or any other girl again, I’ll castrate you,” she warned, her eyes cold and unforgiving. “Do you understand?”

Mahito’s anger flickered for a moment, but the fear in Shoko’s eyes, coupled with the weight of her words, made him falter. He couldn’t bring himself to respond, only nodding stiffly, his bravado crumbling for the first time. He was scared.

Without saying another word, Shoko turned on her heel and walked toward Geto, who had been quietly observing the scene from the side. His expression was unreadable, but there was a calmness in his stance that spoke volumes. As Shoko approached him, he nodded to her, acknowledging her actions without comment.

Geto turned to face Mahito and Jogo, his voice steady but firm. “You’re out of the team,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Both of you.”

Mahito’s fury boiled over at those words. He slammed his fist into the side of his car, his knuckles cracking from the force of the impact, the sound of the blow echoing through the lot. “This is fucking bullshit!” he screamed, but his anger was hollow, the realization sinking in that their futures were no longer in their hands.

Jogo remained silent, the weight of their actions settling over him. Together, they walked away, their defeat palpable in the air around them. Mahito kicked the ground in frustration, but it was clear that nothing could fix the mess they had created.

Shoko and Geto watched them go, the tension of the moment finally starting to dissipate. Shoko didn’t look back at Mahito or Jogo, her expression unreadable, but Geto couldn’t help but wonder if it would be the last time they ever saw those two again.

The next morning, Gojo was sitting in the bathroom of his dorm room, his shirt off as he carefully applied antibiotic ointment to the bruises that marred his face. The fight from the previous day had left its mark on him—scratches and swelling from the altercation. As he dabbed the cream onto a particularly sore patch near his jaw, he could hear Nanami moving about the room, probably lounging as usual.

A sudden knock at the door caught Gojo’s attention, interrupting the quiet of the room. He winced slightly as he shifted to stand, his hand instinctively reaching for the bottle of ointment again.

“Hey, Nanami,” Gojo called, his voice muffled as he winced while touching a bruise near his temple. “You mind getting that?”

Nanami, who was lounging in the small living area with his usual look of indifference, glanced toward the door, clearly unbothered by Gojo’s request. He rolled his eyes dramatically, muttering something under his breath about Gojo always being “too lazy” to get the door.

The sound of Nanami shuffling to the door echoed in the room, and Gojo could hear him greeting whoever had come. A beat passed before the sound of your voice reached Gojo’s ears from the hallway.

“Hi Nanami. Is Gojo here?” you asked, your voice tentative but warm.

“Yes… he is here,” Nanami said, stepping aside to let you in. He was surprised to see you, but there was a subtle change in his expression—a slight tension in the way he observed the situation. He gave you a polite nod. “Come in.”

You stepped inside, the air inside the dorm cool and almost too quiet. As soon as you crossed the threshold, the sound of running water stopped, and Gojo appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, towel in hand. His eyes landed on you, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face when he saw you standing there.

The moment your eyes met, something shifted in the air between you two. You hadn’t expected to see him so soon after everything. The bruises and cuts on his face were still fresh, a stark reminder of the events from the previous night. They mirrored the ones you had seen on Sukuna, and the sight unsettled you. It was almost as if the world you had known before everything had started unraveling was suddenly far away, replaced by a reality filled with tension and fear.

Nanami, sensing the shift in the room’s energy, cleared his throat loudly.

“I’m heading out to buy some groceries,” Nanami said, his tone casual but the hint of a knowing glance cast between you both.

With that, Nanami slipped out of the room without waiting for a reply, leaving you and Gojo alone together. The door clicked shut behind him, and there was a sudden, palpable silence between you both. Gojo looked at you, and you found yourself unable to make eye contact for long, as though something was quietly unraveling in your chest.

You stand there, your heart racing as you look at Gojo. His presence is overwhelming, and the tension between you feels palpable. You try to distract yourself, your fingers fidgeting nervously, something Gojo has started to notice every time you’re anxious. His gaze softens as he watches you, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat and thank him, your voice sincere. “Thank you… for everything…”

Gojo meets your eyes, seeing the genuine gratitude in them. He nods, his lips curving into a slight smile, though there’s something more intense behind his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, his voice low, the edges softened. “I just did what anyone would’ve done.”

You hesitate for a moment, then add, “I’m sorry you were suspended for a week. I can help you with your studies.”

Gojo shakes his head, waving it off with a dismissive gesture. “Don’t apologize. You don’t owe me anything. I did it because…” He stops, a small flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes before he continues. “It was the right thing to do.”

You search his face, wondering what else he was going to say, but he doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he looks at you more seriously, his expression shifting. “I wish you would’ve called me. I wish I could have helped you.”

You feel a pang of guilt. “I didn’t have your number,” you admit softly.

He nods, as if expecting that answer. Without missing a beat, he extends his hand toward you. “Give me your phone.”

You hesitate for a moment, then hand it to him. His fingers brush yours as he takes it, and for a split second, you feel your heart skip a beat. He inputs his number and hands the phone back to you with a simple smile.

As you look at the new contact saved in your phone, you can’t help but smile back at him. “Thank you,” you murmur.

Gojo’s expression softens, and he meets your gaze again. “I’m sorry for what happened. You didn’t deserve that. No one does.” His voice is steady, but you can hear the weight of his words.

You shake your head quickly, feeling a mixture of gratitude and unease. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault… just Mahito and Jogo.”

He takes a step closer, his tone more serious now. “But I should’ve been there to protect you. I should have been waiting for you.”

You quickly try to reassure him, shaking your head again. “It’s not your fault, Gojo. You didn’t know.”

But he looks at you, his eyes holding something deeper. “I should have been there. I could’ve protect you from them.” His voice is almost strained as he says this, as if he’s regretting something he can’t change.

Your heart thuds in your chest, the weight of his words pressing down on you. You can feel the closeness between you both, the air charged with something unspoken. He’s standing just a little too close now, his presence overwhelming, his gaze never leaving yours.

You suddenly feel heat flooding your cheeks, your heart beating faster with each passing second. You can’t help but look away, trying to steady your breath.

Gojo seems to understand. He takes a small step back, though he doesn’t look away, his eyes lingering on you with a softness that makes your heart race even more. He watches as you compose yourself, and when you glance back at him, there’s a small, knowing smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” you say one more time, your voice a little quieter, as if not wanting to disturb the fragile peace between you.

“I mean it,” Gojo replies, his voice lower than usual. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever need anything.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the moment. You move toward the door, not wanting to linger longer than you should. As your hand reaches for the doorknob, Gojo steps forward, closing the door softly before you can open it. His tall figure stands in your way, his presence filling the small space. You freeze, looking up at him, your heart suddenly lodged in your throat.

Your face is mere inches from his now. You can feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The space between you both feels electric, like the air itself is holding its breath.

Gojo reaches up, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his touch so soft it almost feels like a whisper against your skin. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, sending a rush of warmth through your chest. He leans in, his lips inches from yours, and just as you think he might close the distance—

There’s a sharp knock on the door.

The moment shatters.

Gojo lets out a frustrated breath, stepping back and pulling away. You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, your mind scrambling to process everything that just happened. Gojo glances at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he walks over to the door and opens it.

You look up, startled when you see Sukuna standing there, his brows furrowed. He’s clearly surprised to see you, and the tension in the air thickens again.

As you stand there in the doorway, just a few feet from Sukuna, his heart unexpectedly skips a beat. He can feel the tension crackling in the air, and for a moment, the world around him seems to slow. You, standing next to Gojo, exude a calm energy that’s at odds with the storm brewing in his chest. Your presence is both grounding and confusing. His eyes linger on you, watching your every movement. His thoughts race, and yet, he can’t look away.

You turn to Gojo, your voice soft but sincere. “Thank you for having me,” you say, your words almost shy as you bow in appreciation. Sukuna notices the way your gaze flickers briefly toward him, and he feels something tighten in his chest—an unspoken question, a twinge of something unidentifiable. Before he can even react, you flash him a quick, small smile, a gesture that makes his pulse spike. Without another word, you leave, walking away and leaving Sukuna with an unsettling quiet.

He stands frozen for a moment, his eyes tracing the space where you just were. The silence in the room is palpable, and it’s as though the weight of everything that just happened has caught up to him all at once. He looks over to Gojo, who’s nonchalantly resuming his task of tending to his wounds, seemingly unaffected. Sukuna narrows his gaze, trying to read his teammate, but Gojo remains as unreadable as ever.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind you makes Sukuna snap back to reality. He enters the dorm, his movements slow and deliberate. He pauses briefly, his eyes scanning Gojo as he sits down, applying ointment to his bruised face with one hand while the other rests on his lap, still unconcerned with the discomfort of his injuries. Sukuna knows Gojo well enough to understand that physical pain has never been something he dwelled on for long, but something about the scene feels different.

Sukuna clears his throat, breaking the silence. “How are you doing?”

Gojo winces slightly as the antibiotic stings his wounds, a rare moment of vulnerability that makes Sukuna’s eyebrows furrow. “It hurts like a motherfucker,” Gojo replies with a light chuckle, trying to brush it off, but his tone betrays the discomfort. “But I’m good.”

Sukuna nods, glancing at his own bruises, which still ache, though it’s not nearly as bad as Gojo’s. “Same,” he replies flatly. “Same as you.”

Another stretch of silence falls between them, thick and heavy, neither of them quite sure how to fill the space. Sukuna can feel the weight of the earlier conversation lingering like an unspoken truth. He shifts, leaning back in his seat, his gaze wandering to the floor for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. After a few beats, the curiosity gnaws at him, and he can’t hold back the question that’s been burning in the back of his mind.

“What was she doing here?” he asks, his voice low, almost casual, but there’s an edge to it that Gojo doesn’t miss. Sukuna watches Gojo closely, hoping to read him, to get some hint of what really went down. Was it just gratitude? Or was there more to it?

Gojo looks up at him, a nonchalant shrug following. “She came by to thank me,” Gojo says. “And apologize. Told her she didn’t have to. It wasn’t her fault.”

Sukuna nods, his jaw tightening slightly. He waits, hoping Gojo will offer more, but the silence stretches on. Gojo doesn’t elaborate. The uncertainty gnaws at Sukuna, but he’s not about to push. Still, the nagging feeling won’t let him go. He stares at Gojo, his mind turning over every possibility. Something doesn’t sit right with him. It feels like there’s more to the story—more than Gojo is telling him.

The jealousy begins to creep in, subtle but insistent. His fists clench at his sides, though he’s careful to keep his expression neutral. He tells himself it’s nothing, just an emotion he’s not used to feeling. He doesn’t like you. Not in that way. It’s absurd to think otherwise. He’s been through too much lately, his mind still reeling from everything, the grief gnawing at him. This feeling, this unease, has to be just that. Grief.

And yet, deep down, where he can’t quite silence the voice, Sukuna knows it’s more. He has started to feel something for you. Something that twists in his chest and causes that strange tightness when he thinks of your smile, the way you looked at him when you left.

But no, he tells himself. He can’t be falling for you. That’s not possible. He doesn’t do this. This isn’t something he should feel.

“Did anything… happen?” Sukuna asks, his voice quieter now, more controlled. He’s not sure what he’s hoping for, but the unease in his gut won’t go away.

Gojo looks at him, eyes narrowing for a moment, but then his lips curl into a slight smirk. “What do you mean?” Gojo’s tone is teasing, his usual flippant nature taking over. But Sukuna sees the glint in his eyes. He knows Gojo is deliberately holding back something. He can feel it, the way his teammate is watching him, waiting for him to crack.

Sukuna doesn’t push further, but the wheels are turning. As the room falls back into an uncomfortable silence, he can’t ignore the growing feeling inside him anymore. The jealousy he’s been trying to suppress starts to swell, but he stifles it, locking it away deep in his chest. He doesn’t need to give in to it.

But no matter how hard he tries, he knows what this feeling is, even if he won’t admit it aloud. He’s falling for you. And that realization unsettles him more than anything.

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive Content. Sexual Assault (Groping).

Chapter 05

As the cool breeze from the lake brushes against your skin, you sit there quietly, looking out at the water’s gentle ripples. The noise of the party fades into the background, leaving you in a cocoon of quiet—until Gojo’s voice breaks the silence.

“Why did you come?” he asks, his tone soft but curious.

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze before quickly looking away. His eyes always seem to linger a second too long, making you nervous. “I… I just wanted to try something new,” you say, your voice quiet. “Plus, one of the guys I tutor invited me.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? Who’s lucky enough to have you as their tutor?”

“Yuuji,” you reply with a small smile, remembering your cheerful, determined student.

At that, Gojo grins. “Yuuji’s a good kid. Bit of a goof, but he’s got a heart of gold.”

You nod, your smile growing as you agree. “He really is.”

There’s a pause before Gojo tilts his head slightly, studying you. “Are you enjoying the party, though?”

You shake your head, exhaling in mild frustration. “Not really,” you admit. “Honestly… I suck at this.”

Gojo blinks, a look of surprise crossing his face before he lets out a laugh. “You? Suck at something? Impossible.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s a warmth in your expression. “I’m serious,” you insist, gesturing vaguely to the party behind you. “I just don’t know how to… do this whole thing. Parties, mingling, dancing. It’s not me.”

Gojo leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at you, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Sounds like you need a tutor.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by his teasing tone.

Before you can respond, he offers you his hand, his smile growing wider. “Come on. Let me tutor you.”

You let out a surprised giggle, and his confidence falters for just a moment. Is he… blushing?

You glance sideways, looking toward the house. There’s no sign of Sukuna. At this point, you’re sure he isn’t coming back.

You look back at Gojo, his hand still outstretched. There’s something both playful and genuine in his expression, and for a moment, you hesitate. Then, you nod, sliding your hand into his.

He stands, pulling you up gently, his grip firm but warm. “Alright,” he says, his voice carrying that usual air of confidence, “first lesson: follow me.”

You raise an eyebrow but let him lead you, weaving through the garden. As you walk, the noise of the party grows louder, and you feel your nerves creeping in again. But with Gojo’s hand still holding yours, you find it easier to take a breath and trust him—at least for now.

Sukuna leans against the wall, swirling the remnants of his drink as his crimson eyes follow you and Gojo from afar. His gaze sharpens when he sees the way you look at Gojo—eager, curious, and sweet, your eyes wide as you hang on to every word the other man says. Sukuna mutters a curse under his breath, a sour taste creeping into his mouth that has nothing to do with the alcohol. Why the hell are you looking at him like that?

Mahito, lounging nearby with a smug grin, doesn’t miss the opportunity to needle him. “Looks like Gojo’s stealing your girl, Sukuna,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery. “Guess you’re not as irresistible as you think.”

Sukuna’s grip tightens on his cup, his jaw clenching. “Shut the fuck up, Mahito,” he growls, but Mahito’s taunts continue.

“You should’ve gone with the bet, man,” Mahito snickers. “At this point, you should give me the 100$.”

Jogo, shaking his head, chimes in, “Face it, Sukuna. You’re losing.”

Sukuna downs his drink in one go, slamming the empty cup onto the nearby table. His eyes burn with irritation as he snarls, “Both of you, fuck off.” He doesn’t wait for another word from either of them as he strides toward you and Gojo.

As Sukuna approaches, he watches Gojo animatedly explaining the different bottles on the makeshift bar Hakari has set up. You’re nodding along, your curiosity evident.

“This one’s a classic,” Gojo says, pointing at a bottle of peach schnapps. “Sweet, fruity, perfect for beginners. Honestly, it’s the dessert of alcohol.”

You giggle softly, your lips pulling into a shy smile as you say, “It sounds nice.”

Before Gojo can elaborate, Sukuna steps into the conversation, his deep voice cutting through the air. “If you think peach schnapps is nice, you’d probably call cranberry vodka a war crime.”

Gojo turns to him, his ever-present grin faltering slightly. “Sukuna,” he says, his tone a mix of surprise and something bordering on unease.

You glance between the two, sensing an odd tension you can’t quite place. Sukuna’s eyes linger on Gojo for a moment before shifting to you. “Did he tell you vodka’s strong?” Sukuna asks, his smirk tilting upward.

You fidget with your fingers, feeling the weight of both men’s stares. “Uh, yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Earlier, Sukuna gave me a sip of his drink. It was awful.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “You gave her vodka straight?”

Sukuna shrugs, his smirk unbothered. “It had cranberry, relax.”

Gojo chuckles awkwardly but doesn’t miss the slight challenge in Sukuna’s tone. He grabs a glass and starts mixing a drink. “Let’s fix that experience then,” he says, focusing on you. “Something easy—how about a Malibu Bay Breeze? Sweet, tropical, barely tastes like alcohol.”

You nod, watching as he prepares the drink and hands it to you. The glass is cool against your palm, and you take a cautious sip. There’s a subtle bitterness beneath the sweetness, but it’s far more tolerable than the cranberry vodka. “It’s… not bad,” you say, smiling softly.

“See?” Gojo grins. “Told you. Leave it to me.”

Sukuna lets out a low chuckle, drawing Gojo’s attention. “Careful, Gojo,” Sukuna says, his tone laced with mockery. “You’re setting the bar way too high for yourself. Especially since you’ll probably stumble out of here drunk as hell later.”

Gojo’s grin tightens, his usual lightheartedness giving way to annoyance. “Funny you say that, Sukuna,” he counters smoothly. “Coming from the guy who nearly took out Hakari’s mom’s flower vase last party.”

Sukuna’s expression darkens slightly, his smirk now sharp as a blade. “At least I didn’t get carried out because I passed out in the pool,” he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You look between them, your unease growing. There’s something beneath their words—an edge, a challenge—that feels heavier than a simple exchange of banter.

Sensing your discomfort, Gojo clears his throat and gestures toward you. “She’s a first-timer,” he says, his voice deliberately light. “Gotta make sure she has a good introduction to this whole party thing.”

Sukuna’s eyes flick to you, softening slightly as he notices the way you’re clutching your glass, your fingers fidgeting nervously. “If she’s smart, she’ll realize this scene’s not worth the hype,” he says, his voice less biting when directed at you.

Gojo catches the shift in Sukuna’s tone, and something about it irks him. “Or,” Gojo says, grinning as he leans closer to you, “she’ll let loose and actually enjoy herself for once. It’s called balance, Sukuna. Ever heard of it?”

Sukuna’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t immediately reply. Instead, his gaze locks onto yours, searching for something in your expression. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice quieter but steady.

You blink, caught off guard by the question and the sudden intensity in Sukuna’s eyes. “I… I don’t know,” you say, feeling the weight of both their gazes. “I’m just… trying to figure it out.”

Gojo chuckles softly, his grin genuine as he pats your shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Take your time.”

But Sukuna doesn’t look away, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally speaks. “If anyone gives you trouble, let me know,” he says, his tone low but firm.

The tension between the two men is palpable, but before it can escalate further, Hakari’s voice booms from across the room, breaking the moment. “Hey, someone just shattered a lamp!”

Gojo laughs, turning to you. “Let’s find somewhere quieter. Come on.”

You glance at Sukuna, hesitating. His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark as they follow Gojo leading you away. Mahito’s earlier words echo in his mind, but he shoves them aside, draining another drink as he mutters under his breath, “This isn’t over.”

Gojo walks beside you, stealing glances as you both weave through Hakari’s family estate. The soft glow of the chandeliers above feels like a different world compared to the chaotic energy of the party. Your gaze flickers to the small library tucked in the corner of the house, and your eyes light up.

Gojo notices immediately and feels his chest tighten. He watches you move closer, your fingers brushing the spines of books as you admire the collection.

“You’re into libraries, huh?” he asks, his tone light, though his mind is elsewhere. His thoughts are stuck on Sukuna. Why did he give her a sip of his drink? Was he trying to flirt?

You turn to him, offering a soft smile. “I guess I am. It’s a nice escape.”

Gojo leans casually against the doorway, crossing his arms as he observes you. The way you speak with that soft voice, how you seem so at ease in a quiet space like this—it makes him wonder why you even came to this party. “How do you know Sukuna?” he asks suddenly, the words spilling out before he can stop himself.

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, we all went to middle school together,” you say with a small shrug. “And we’re working on a group project together.”

Of course, Gojo knows you all went to the same middle school, but the mention of the project twists something inside him. He thinks about his own experience with that stupid project—how Nanami threatens to kick him out of the group every ten seconds.

Gojo nods, trying to seem casual. “Makes sense,” he mutters, though jealousy simmers beneath his playful exterior.

You tilt your head, noticing the shift in his demeanor. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugs, his signature grin returning, though it feels a little forced. “No reason. Just curious.”

You give him a polite smile, though part of you feels a little weirded out by his sudden interest.

Gojo decides to change the subject. “Alright, you ready for lesson number two?”

“Lesson two?” you echo, confused.

“Dancing,” he declares confidently, holding his hand out to you.

Your heart skips a beat at his sudden boldness. His hand is warm and inviting, and when you place yours in his, that strange spark of electricity returns. You look up at him, wondering what this feeling is and why it’s so new.

He leads you back to the main room, where music fills the air and the crowd is lost in the rhythm. The energy here is electric, the air thick with motion and laughter.

“I don’t know how to dance,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo turns to face you, his grin softening into something more sincere. “That’s fine. I’ll teach you.”

He places his hands on your waist, gentle and patient as he guides your movements. His confidence seems effortless, and it steadies your nerves. At first, your steps are clumsy and uncertain, but you gradually begin to follow the rhythm, your body swaying in time with his.

The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through you, and his piercing blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. You glance down, feeling self-conscious under his gaze, but the corners of his mouth lift in a reassuring smile.

“See?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

You laugh nervously, your cheeks heating up. “I think you’re just a good teacher.”

Gojo chuckles, his hands steady on your waist. “Or maybe I just have a good student.”

The playful banter feels intimate, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades away.

Across the room, Sukuna leans against the wall, his crimson eyes locked onto the two of you. His posture is casual, but his gaze is sharp, tracing the way your body moves in rhythm with Gojo’s. You’re swaying innocently, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. He hates this feeling—this burning jealousy. His gaze shifts to Gojo, who looks far too pleased as he leads you through the dance. It’s obvious now. Gojo isn’t just being friendly; he’s hitting on you.

Beside him, Yuuji notices his brother’s tense demeanor. “Yo, you good?” Yuuji asks, leaning casually against the wall beside Sukuna.

Sukuna scoffs, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m amazing. Thanks for asking.”

Yuuji rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to lie, you know. I can see you glaring at Gojo like you want to set him on fire.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sukuna mutters, his eyes never leaving you.

Yuuji raises an eyebrow. “Do you like her or something?”

Sukuna lets out a harsh laugh. “Me? Like a nerd like her? Don’t make me laugh.”

Yuuji stares at him, disbelief written all over his face. “Then why are you looking at her like she’s your prey?”

The words strike a nerve, and Sukuna snaps without thinking. “Why don’t you shut up and focus on yourself? Or maybe go cry to Dad about it—oh wait.”

The second the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. Yuuji’s expression hardens, his usual cheerful demeanor vanishing.

“You’re an asshole,” Yuuji says quietly, his voice cold and sharp. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving Sukuna standing there, his chest tight with regret.

Sukuna curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t chase after Yuuji—he can’t. He’s too consumed by his own frustration and jealousy, his eyes drawn back to you.

You’re laughing now, your face lit up as Gojo twirls you in the middle of the crowd. Sukuna clenches his jaw, the weight of his own emotions suffocating him. For the first time in a long time, he feels powerless—and it’s a feeling he can’t stand.

As you step away from the dance floor, your movements slightly slower from exhaustion, you turn to Gojo. “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

He nods, pointing towards the staircase at the far end of the room. “Upstairs, second door on the right.”

You thank him with a soft smile before heading toward the stairs, weaving your way through the lively crowd. Gojo watches you go for a moment before realizing how thirsty he is. With a shrug, he moves to the drink station to grab a glass of water.

As he turns back, his eyes land on Sukuna, seated alone in the corner of the room. His posture is relaxed, but the tension in his jaw and the dark look in his eyes make it clear something’s bothering him.

Curiosity gets the better of Gojo, and he approaches, sliding into the seat next to Sukuna. “Yo,” he greets casually. “You good?”

Sukuna doesn’t bother looking at him. “What do you think?” he replies, his tone sharp.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic attitude but doesn’t press immediately. Instead, he leans back in his seat, glancing at the crowd before turning his attention back to his friend. “You seem… off.”

There’s a long silence before Sukuna speaks, his voice quieter this time. “I hurt Yuuji’s feelings.”

That catches Gojo off guard. He straightens in his seat, giving Sukuna his full attention. “What happened?”

Sukuna sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “We had a stupid argument, and I said something about Dad.” His voice lowers even further, almost like he’s ashamed to say it out loud.

Gojo doesn’t say anything, sensing that Sukuna isn’t done.

“I didn’t mean it,” Sukuna continues, frustration lacing his tone. “It just… came out. I was pissed off, and he kept poking at me.” He pauses, his fingers tapping against his glass. “But I didn’t mean to hurt him. I don’t want him to think I don’t miss our father, because I do.”

Gojo nods slightly, his face serious as he processes Sukuna’s words. “Grief’s tricky,” he finally says. “It messes with your head. But you can’t keep it bottled up forever.”

Sukuna exhales sharply, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s not just that. I haven’t been able to process it. Every time I try, it’s like—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Gojo says, his voice unusually gentle. “But you should try talking to Yuuji. He’ll get it. You know he will.”

Sukuna scoffs softly, but there’s no real heat behind it. “He thinks I’m an asshole.”

Gojo smirks faintly. “You can be. But he also knows you care, even if you don’t always show it the right way.”

The two fall into silence, a rare moment of vulnerability hanging in the air between them.

Suddenly, Sukuna’s gaze shifts to the staircase, and Gojo follows his line of sight. There you are, descending the stairs with a grace neither of them can ignore.

Sukuna’s next question catches Gojo completely off guard. “Do you like her?”

Gojo stiffens, his composure slipping for a brief moment. “What?”

“You heard me,” Sukuna says, his tone unreadable.

Gojo scratches the back of his neck, feeling heat rise to his face. “No, of course not,” he says quickly. “Why would you even ask that?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, his crimson eyes fixed on you as you rejoin the crowd.

After a beat, Gojo turns the question back to Sukuna. “Do you like her?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and Sukuna fights the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s just my project partner,” Sukuna mutters before Gojo can ask again.

Gojo blinks, caught off guard by Sukuna’s dismissal. For reasons he doesn’t fully understand, he feels a flicker of relief. “Right… just a classmate.”

The music thumps loudly in the background, the bass reverberating through your chest as you weave through the crowd, searching for Gojo. The party feels overwhelming now, bodies pressing in from every side, the air thick with sweat and alcohol. You try to keep calm, clutching the edges of your cardigan as you move.

Suddenly, you feel it—a hand grabbing your ass. You freeze, a cold wave of fear washing over you. Turning around, your eyes meet Mahito’s smug, twisted grin. His pale blue eyes glint with something that makes your stomach churn.

“Didn’t think a cute little thing like you would show up to a place like this,” he sneers, his voice low and dripping with malice. His hand hovers too close, and your heart races as panic begins to set in. “You’re looking lonely. Want me to keep you company? I promise I can make it worth your while.”

You take a shaky step back, your hands trembling as you try to summon the courage to tell him off, but the words catch in your throat. Before you can move further, you bump into someone else—Jogo. His eyes rake over you, filled with a predatory leer that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Look at you, shaking like a leaf,” Mahito whispers into your ear, his breath hot and repulsive against your skin. “C’mon, don’t be scared. I’ll be gentle.”

Tears prick your eyes as you push past them, your breath hitching. “Don’t touch me,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Mahito’s laughter follows you, sharp and cruel. “Playing hard to get, huh? I like that,” he calls after you, his voice cutting through the noise of the party. “Bet you’ll come back begging for it soon enough.”

The humiliation, the fear—it’s all too much. You push through the crowd, your vision blurring with tears. You don’t care who sees you cry. All you want is to get out, to get as far away as possible.

You spot the door, the exit glowing faintly like a beacon of salvation. You shove it open, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap. Your feet carry you away from the house, almost running now, the noise of the party fading behind you.

Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps as you clutch your cardigan tightly around you, wrapping it like a shield against the world. Tears stream freely down your face, your body shaking as you realize you don’t even know where you’re going. The night is dark, and the streets feel endless. The fear from Mahito’s touch lingers, his words echoing in your mind like a poison you can’t shake.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your chest aching with a mix of shame and despair. You hug yourself tightly, wishing you could disappear, wishing none of this had ever happened.

The streetlights blur in the distance, and your sobs break through the quiet of the night as you keep walking, alone and lost.

Gojo pushed himself up from the couch, his gaze scanning the crowded room. “I’m going to look for her,” he said, clapping Sukuna on the back. “She’s probably just wandered off somewhere.”

Sukuna forced a faint smile, watching as Gojo headed toward the door. The grin didn’t feel right—it wasn’t genuine. He wasn’t even sure why. Was it jealousy? Frustration? Or was grief making him latch onto something, someone, just to feel anything other than this emptiness?

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Focus.

Sukuna started walking through the party, his eyes scanning for any sign of you. Passing through the dimly lit living room, he paused when he caught sight of Shoko and Geto locked in a drunken kiss on the couch. He blinked, momentarily stunned. “Well, that’s… something I didn’t need to see,” he muttered under his breath, turning around quickly.

Making his way toward the bar, Sukuna spotted Gojo returning with a defeated look on his face.

“She’s not here,” Gojo said, shaking his head. “She might’ve left early. This really isn’t her scene.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound hollow. “Yeah, figured as much.”

Gojo reached into his pocket, fumbling for his keys. “I think I’m heading out too. This party’s losing its charm. You staying?”

“Maybe for a bit longer,” Sukuna replied, watching as Gojo waved goodbye and disappeared into the night.

Leaning against the bar, Sukuna grabbed his drink and downed it, his eyes aimlessly scanning the room. He was just about to brush off the nagging feeling in his chest when his phone buzzed against the counter. He ignored it at first, but something compelled him to check.

Your name lit up the screen.

His heart skipped a beat as he swiped to answer. “Y/N?”

The sound of your sobbing cut through the noise of the party, and he immediately straightened. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, your voice shaking.

He cursed under his breath, moving to a quieter corner. “Alright, listen to me. Breathe. In and out. Slow. Good. Now, tell me what you see around you.”

You sniffled, your breaths still uneven as you described the buildings near you. “T-There’s a blue house and a grey house next to it. There’s I- I don’t know, an orange tree.” As you spoke, Sukuna’s mind pieced together your location. He knew exactly where you were.

“Stay there. Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”

He hung up and pushed through the crowd toward the door. Mahito appeared out of nowhere, blocking his path.

“Where you going?” Mahito slurred, his grin too wide. “We’ve got more shots lined up!”

“Not now,” Sukuna snapped, shoving past him.

Jogo called after him, but Sukuna didn’t care, the adrenaline coursing. The rain had started as a drizzle when Sukuna pushed through the front doors of the party, but now it was pounding against his windshield as he drove toward the area you’d described.

The streets were dimly lit, the lights blurring under the relentless rain. Sukuna’s heart raced, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with every passing second. He couldn’t see you anywhere.

“Where are you?” he muttered under his breath, scanning the streets and sidewalks. The thought of you alone, scared, and vulnerable made his chest tighten.

And then he saw you—a small figure crouched under a tree, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trembling. The sight of you, soaked and shivering, sent a pang through him.

He pulled the car over and was out in an instant, the rain drenching him as he ran to you.

“Y/N,” he said, kneeling in front of you.

You didn’t look up, your shoulders shaking as quiet sobs escaped you.

“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice softer. “It’s me. I’m here now.”

You finally glanced up, your face streaked with tears and rainwater. “Sukuna…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Without thinking, he pulled you into his arms. You were cold—freezing—and he could feel you trembling against him. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay now.”

He guided you to the car, opening the door and helping you in. He fastened your seatbelt with care, his fingers brushing against your damp cardigan as he secured you. Once you were settled, he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The car was silent except for the rain pelting the roof and the sound of your quiet sobs. Sukuna kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel the weight of your presence next to him.

He didn’t know where to take you—your dorm? Somewhere safe? He needed to figure out what had happened.

He pulled into an empty parking lot, the car idling as he turned to face you. “Y/N,” he said gently. “What happened?”

You shook your head, your hands gripping the edges of your cardigan as if trying to shield yourself. “I… I tried calling Shoko,” you began, your voice trembling. “But she didn’t answer.”

Sukuna frowned, his mind flashing to Shoko drunkenly tangled with Geto back at the party. Of course, she hadn’t answered. But he didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset you further.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Sukuna’s throat tightened. “I’m glad you called me,” he said softly. “You did the right thing.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes avoiding his. “I… I can’t…”

“Y/N,” he pressed, his tone firm but not harsh. “You need to tell me what happened.”

You shook your head again, your breaths coming quicker. He could see the panic rising in you, your chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

“Hey, hey,” Sukuna said quickly, leaning closer. “Look at me. Breathe with me, okay? In… and out. Just focus on my voice.”

You tried to follow his lead, your breathing slowly evening out as you clung to his words.

“Good,” he said, his voice steady. “Now, tell me. Did someone do something to you?”

Your silence was answer enough. Sukuna’s heart sank, dread pooling in his stomach.

“Y/N,” he said carefully, his voice low. “Please. I need to know.”

You nodded slowly, tears streaming down your face as you whispered, “Mahito… he… he grabbed me. He said things—awful things. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared…”

Sukuna’s entire body went rigid, his jaw clenching as rage coursed through him. “That son of a—”

“No!” you cried, your voice rising in panic. “Please, Sukuna, don’t do anything. Just… please don’t.”

His anger faltered when he saw the fear in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, he softened his tone. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. None of this was your fault. Do you hear me?”

You nodded, your sobs quieting, though your shoulders still trembled.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, turning the car back on and pulling out of the parking lot. The ride was silent again, but this time, it felt a little lighter. Sukuna glanced at you from time to time, his chest tightening at the sight of you curled up in the seat, your damp cardigan wrapped tightly around you.

He didn’t know how to fix this, but one thing was certain: Mahito would pay for what he’d done. But that was a problem for later. Right now, all that mattered was you.

The rain had lessened to a drizzle by the time Sukuna arrived at your dorms. The drive had been tense, filled only with the rhythmic thrum of rain on the windshield and your occasional sniffles. Sukuna parked the car, turning the engine off before glancing at you.

“You good to walk up?” he asked softly, breaking the silence.

You nodded, but your trembling frame betrayed the truth. Your clothes clung to your skin, soaked through, and your shivering was uncontrollable. Sukuna frowned, pulling off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could offer.

“Come on,” he said gently, stepping out into the rain and coming around to your side of the car.

The two of you walked in silence up to your dorm. Sukuna stayed close, his presence steadying despite the turmoil swirling within him. When you reached your door, your hands fumbled with the keys, and Sukuna reached out to help steady them.

Once the door creaked open, Sukuna hesitated. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked, his voice low and careful. “Or… should I go?”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I think I just want to be alone.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening as he took a step back. “Alright,” he said, his tone understanding. “But if you need anything—anything at all—you call me, okay? Or text. I’ll come back.”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face as you whispered, “Thank you.”

The door closed softly, leaving Sukuna standing alone in the hallway. For a moment, he just stared at the door, his fists clenching at his sides. Then he turned and walked back to his car.

The drive to his dorm was suffocating. Anger bubbled within him, each thought of Mahito stoking the fire further. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. It took everything in him not to spin the car around and drive straight back to the party. He wanted to find Mahito, to make him pay for what he’d done.

But he didn’t.

By the time he reached his dorm, Sukuna was vibrating with rage. He slammed the car door shut and stormed inside.

Yuuji was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but he looked up immediately when Sukuna entered. His brother’s anger was palpable, filling the room like a storm cloud.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuji asked, his brow furrowing.

Sukuna didn’t answer, kicking off his shoes with unnecessary force and heading toward his room.

“Sukuna,” Yuuji called, standing up. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sukuna snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut.

But Yuuji wasn’t having it. “You never want to talk about it!” he yelled, his voice rising. “You shut me out every single time!”

“Yuuji, drop it,” Sukuna warned, his hands balling into fists.

“No!” Yuuji shouted, his own anger flaring. “I’m sick of this! I’m sick of grieving on my own while you act like nothing happened! I need you, Sukuna! I need my brother!”

Sukuna froze, Yuuji’s words hitting him like a freight train. But the weight of everything—the anger, the grief, the helplessness—it was too much.

He turned suddenly, grabbing a lamp off the table and hurling it across the room. The crash echoed, making Yuuji flinch. Sukuna didn’t stop. He swiped books off the shelf, kicked a chair, his rage manifesting in destruction.

“Stop!” Yuuji cried, his voice trembling. “Sukuna, stop!”

But Sukuna couldn’t. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he stood in the middle of the chaos he’d created. And then, all at once, he broke.

He sank to his knees, his hands covering his face as the tears came. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs that shook his entire body.

Yuuji’s own tears started to fall as he rushed to his brother, dropping to his knees beside him. “Sukuna…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“I’m trying,” Sukuna choked out, his voice muffled behind his hands. “I’m trying so hard, but I’m failing.”

“No, you’re not,” Yuuji said firmly, wrapping his arms around Sukuna.

“I am!” Sukuna shouted, his voice breaking. “I’m failing, Yuuji. I’m failing at everything. I’m failing Dad. I promised him… I promised I’d make him proud. I’d be captain, graduate with honors. But I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing,” Yuuji said, his own tears streaming down his face.

“I am,” Sukuna insisted, his voice barely a whisper now. “I’ve failed my classes. I lost my position as captain because I couldn’t handle it… because I couldn’t handle losing him. I’m a mess, Yuuji. I’ve failed.”

Yuuji tightened his hold on him, his own sobs shaking his frame. “You haven’t failed, Sukuna,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’re trying. That’s all Dad would’ve wanted. He wouldn’t care about the GPA or being captain. He just wanted us to be okay.”

“I miss him,” Sukuna whispered, his voice raw.

“I miss him too,” Yuuji said, his voice cracking. “But you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

The two of them sat there, holding onto each other as their grief poured out. The storm inside them finally had a moment to break, and for the first time in a long time, Sukuna didn’t feel entirely alone.

Yuuji sat on the floor of Sukuna’s room, the faint hum of the air conditioner filling the silence. His brother had calmed down, though the tension in his jaw and the distant look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t entirely at peace. Yuuji leaned back against the bed frame, glancing at Sukuna, who was seated on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“You okay now?” Yuuji asked softly, his voice careful not to disturb the fragile quiet between them.

Sukuna nodded slightly but didn’t look at him. “Yeah,” he muttered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Yuuji spoke again. “You’re not like this for no reason. Did something happen?”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Y/N called me earlier. Crying,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Yuuji blinked. “She called you? What happened?”

Sukuna ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he stopped, as if the thought alone was too much to bear.

“Because…” he started but trailed off, shaking his head.

“Because what?” Yuuji pressed, concern now lacing his tone.

Sukuna’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles white. He didn’t want to say it. Saying it made it real, and real meant he would have to face what happened. Worse, it meant he’d have to decide what to do.

Yuuji leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Sukuna,” he said firmly but not unkindly. “What happened?”

Sukuna swallowed hard, his jaw working as he tried to form the words. Finally, he forced them out. “Mahito groped her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yuuji froze. “What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard him right.

Sukuna looked up, his eyes meeting Yuuji’s for the first time. “He groped her,” he repeated, his voice sharper now, filled with anger and disgust.

Yuuji stared at him, his expression shifting between disbelief and fury. “Is she… is she okay?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Sukuna shook his head, his frustration evident. “She was shaking like a damn leaf, Yuuji. She could barely talk. She just… she didn’t even want me to stay. She wanted to be alone.”

Yuuji let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “And what are you going to do?” he asked, his tone quiet but heavy with meaning.

Sukuna leaned back, his fists clenching again. “I’m waiting,” he said simply.

“For what?” Yuuji asked, frowning.

“For her,” Sukuna said, his voice softer now. “I’m not going to do anything unless she wants me to. It’s her choice. Not mine.”

Yuuji nodded slowly, the weight of the situation sinking in. He wanted to say more, to do something, but he knew Sukuna was right. Whatever happened next had to be your decision.

Still, the thought of you being hurt like that filled him with a quiet rage. “If you need me,” Yuuji said after a long pause, “you know I’ve got your back.”

Sukuna didn’t respond immediately, but after a moment, he nodded. “I know.”

The room fell into silence again, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Sukuna’s mind raced with images of you, your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands. And Yuuji, for the first time, saw a side of his brother he hadn’t before—a man struggling to balance his anger, his protective instincts, and his respect for someone else’s autonomy.

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive content. +18

Chapter 04

Yuuji stood outside the library, squinting at the glowing neon sign above the entrance. The clock on his phone read 6:58 PM. He groaned, glancing around the nearly deserted campus. “Why am I even here?” he muttered. Most students were either partying or relaxing—not trudging into a library on a Friday night. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and pushed open the heavy glass door.

Inside, the library was quiet, almost hauntingly so. The rows of shelves stretched into the dim corners, and only a few desk lamps glowed faintly. He wandered deeper in, looking for anyone who might resemble a tutor.

“Is this Sukuna’s idea of a joke?” Yuuji muttered under his breath.

But then he saw you.

You were tucked away in the farthest corner, sitting at a table near the shelves. Glasses perched on your nose, a sweater too big for your frame draped over your shoulders, and baggy jeans swallowed your legs. Your hair was tied into a messy bun, and you were scribbling into a notebook with a focus that suggested you’d rather be anywhere but here.

Yuuji hesitated.

She looks serious…this is definitely not a prank.

He approached cautiously, the sound of his sneakers on the polished floor breaking the silence.

You glanced up as his shadow fell over your table. And for a split second, your stomach sank. His pink hair, sharp jawline, and even his stance—everything about him screamed Sukuna. The resemblance was uncanny, except for one thing: his expression. Where Sukuna’s was always distant, cold, or annoyed, this boy looked… approachable. Warm. Even friendly.

“Uh, are you my tutor?” he asked, tilting his head.

You stood, offering your hand. “That depends. Are you Yuuji Itadori?”

He grinned, shaking your hand. “That’s me! You can just call me Yuuji, though. Thanks for helping me out.”

As he settled into the chair across from you, you adjusted your glasses and opened your notebook. “Alright, let’s get started. You’re here for Principles of Financial Management, right?”

Yuuji nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I really need help. Like…badly.”

You chuckled softly, and his grin widened.

For the next two hours, the library filled with the sound of flipping pages, pens scratching on paper, and your patient explanations.

“Okay,” you began, pointing to a chart in the textbook. “This is the cash flow statement. It’s basically a summary of how cash moves in and out of a company over a period of time.”

Yuuji squinted at the page. “So��it’s like tracking how much money I spend on snacks versus how much I make babysitting?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure, if you’re running a business of snack consumption and babysitting profits. But yes, conceptually, that’s correct.”

He grinned. “See? I’m already learning!”

“Don’t get too confident yet,” you teased. “What’s the formula for free cash flow?”

Yuuji frowned, tapping his chin. “Uh…Revenue minus…expenses?”

“Close. Revenue minus operating expenses and capital expenditures. Write that down.”

He scribbled furiously in his notebook. “Got it. You’re really good at this, you know.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “At what?”

“Explaining stuff. Making it…not boring.”

You smiled, brushing off the compliment. “Thanks, Yuuji. Now, let’s move on to break-even analysis.”

By the time you glanced at the clock, it was past 9 PM. You closed the textbook with a soft thud and stretched your arms. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today.”

Yuuji leaned back in his chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. “You just saved my life. Seriously. I actually understand this stuff now!”

You smiled. “That’s the point of tutoring.”

He paused, then asked, “Do you have space for another session this week?”

You pulled out your agenda. “Let’s see…yes, I can fit you in on Thursday at the same time.”

“Perfect!” he said, watching as you wrote his name neatly in your planner.

As you packed up, Yuuji hesitated before speaking again. “Hey, are you going to Hakari’s party tonight?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s not really my thing.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, leaning forward. “It’s a Friday night! You should enjoy college a little.”

You laughed softly. “I enjoy it just fine without parties, thanks.”

“Think of it as a thank-you for helping me out,” he insisted, pulling out his phone. Before you could protest, he sent you the address.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you said, slightly flustered.

“Just think about it, okay?” he said with a grin as he stood. “Even if you just stop by for a little while, it’d be fun to see you there.”

You watched him walk away, his energy and cheerfulness lingering like a faint echo in the quiet library. Alone again, you sat back down, staring at your phone with the address he’d sent.

Should you go?

You sighed, placing your chin in your hands. For someone as outgoing as Yuuji, this party was probably the highlight of his week. For you, though? It was a step outside of your comfort zone.

When you enter your dorm, the space feels unusually quiet. Shoko isn’t there, her usual music or chatter missing, which only adds to the unease bubbling in your chest. You drop your bag on the bed and walk toward your desk, where a small mirror leans against the wall.

You sit down and open your modest makeup bag, staring at the contents for a moment. It’s been a while since you’ve done anything other than a little mascara, but tonight, curiosity wins. You pick out a soft lipstick, something subtle but noticeable, and carefully apply it.

Leaning back, you undo your messy bun, letting your hair tumble down in waves around your shoulders. For a moment, you study your reflection, unsure.

“Do I look okay for a party?” you whisper to yourself, smoothing down a stray strand of hair.

Then your eyes drop to your clothes: the oversized sweatshirt that swallows your frame and the baggy jeans that are more comfort than style. A familiar wave of self-consciousness hits.

You sigh, standing. This is ridiculous. You’re not a party person. What are you even thinking?

Just as you’re about to give up and call it a night, the door swings open. Shoko strides in, the click of her heels echoing on the floor. Her outfit is as bold as ever—short, sleek, and paired with smoky eye makeup that makes her look effortlessly cool.

“I forgot my purse and my cigarettes,” she says, scanning the room. She freezes when her eyes land on you, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Wait a minute… Lipstick? What’s going on here?”

You feel your face flush. “Nothing. I was just…thinking about going to the party.”

Shoko arches a brow, tossing her purse onto her bed. “Thinking? Girl, you’re either in or out. And judging by that sweatshirt, I’m guessing you’re about to chicken out.”

You fidget, glancing at your reflection again. “I don’t know, Shoko. I feel like I’ll be so out of place. I don’t even know what to wear to something like this.”

She crosses the room in two strides, studying you with a critical eye. Then she shakes her head dramatically. “Honey, this isn’t grandma’s tea party. That outfit? No.”

Before you can protest, Shoko dives into her closet with purpose. Hangers rattle and clothes fly until she emerges, triumphant, holding a tight, short black dress. She thrusts it toward you like a sacred artifact.

You blink at it, wide-eyed. “Shoko…that’s way too short.”

She laughs, a deep, throaty sound that fills the room. “That’s the point. Trust me. Just try it on. You’ve been hiding under all that fabric for too long.”

When you hesitate, she grabs a pair of sleek black heels from her closet and sets them beside the dress. “These too. Go on, the bathroom’s right there. I want a fashion show.”

Reluctantly, you take the dress and heels, muttering something about peer pressure as you shut the bathroom door.

When you finally step out, your heart pounds. The dress hugs your curves in all the right places, and the heels add just enough height to make you feel confident—but also a little exposed.

Shoko’s jaw actually drops. She blinks a few times, then grins like the Cheshire Cat. “Holy… Where have you been hiding that body? Damn, Y/N, if I looked like you, I’d be breaking hearts left and right.”

You tug at the hem of the dress nervously. “I feel…exposed.”

Shoko waves you off, pulling a lightweight cardigan from her closet and tossing it at you. “Here, for when you get cold. But don’t even think about putting it on until the party is over.”

You smile softly, holding the cardigan to your chest. “Thanks, Shoko.”

She smirks, grabbing her purse. “What are roommates for? Now come on, you’re sticking with me tonight. I’ll make sure you survive.”

You laugh, feeling a little of the tension ease. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

Hakari’s parents’ house was a sprawling suburban mansion, the kind of place that screamed “old money” and had probably never seen this much chaos before. Tonight, it was packed to the brim with college students. The bass from the sound system reverberated through the walls, and every room was teeming with people. The living room had been converted into a makeshift dance floor, where bodies swayed and moved under the glow of string lights and a rotating disco ball that Hakari had apparently borrowed from somewhere.

The kitchen was a disaster zone—red solo cups piled high, bottles of vodka, tequila, and mixers scattered across the counters. Someone was attempting to make cocktails but clearly had no idea what they were doing, judging by the grimaces from those brave enough to drink them. The backyard was just as packed, with clusters of people gathered around the pool, some dipping their feet in, others reclining on lawn chairs with drinks in hand.

Hakari had bragged all week about how his parents were conveniently “away on business,” leaving him the house. Of course, they thought he was hosting a small study group. Judging by the dozens of cars parked haphazardly down the street, they were in for a rude awakening if a single neighbor decided to call the cops.

Sukuna stood near the wall in the living room, nursing his drink and watching the chaos with mild amusement. He wasn’t a big fan of these kinds of parties anymore—too predictable, too loud—but Hakari had insisted, and Sukuna figured there were worse ways to spend a Friday night. He leaned against the wall, one hand in his pocket, his sharp gaze scanning the room with the cool indifference of someone who always looked like he was above the noise.

Then he spotted Yuuji weaving through the crowd, his bright pink hair making him impossible to miss. Trailing behind him were his ever-present sidekicks, Nobara and Megumi. Yuuji’s usual energy was dialed up even higher tonight, his grin so wide it practically lit up the dimly lit room.

“Hey, Sukuna!” Yuuji called out, raising a hand in greeting as he finally reached his older brother.

Sukuna barely shifted, taking another sip from his red cup. “What?” he asked, his tone as sharp as ever.

Yuuji wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Just wanted to say thanks for hooking me up with that tutor. She’s great—really knows her stuff.”

“Good,” Sukuna said flatly. “You actually learning something, or are you just wasting her time?”

Yuuji groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m learning, alright? Jeez. Why are you always so dramatic?”

Before Sukuna could fire back, Yuuji added casually, “Oh, by the way, I invited her to the party.”

Sukuna froze mid-sip, his eyes narrowing as he slowly lowered his cup. “You did what?”

“I invited her,” Yuuji repeated, grinning. “Thought it’d be a nice way to thank her, you know? Plus, she works too hard. She deserves to have some fun.”

Sukuna barked out a laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. “She’s not coming.”

Yuuji frowned. “How do you know?”

“Because she’s a nerd who lives in the library,” Sukuna said, his tone dripping with condescension. “This isn’t her scene. Trust me.”

Yuuji was about to argue when a new voice cut in.

“Yo, Sukuna!”

Gojo appeared out of nowhere, grinning ear to ear, holding a drink that looked suspiciously like it had more ice than actual liquid. He clapped Sukuna on the back with enough force to make him scowl.

“What do you want, Gojo?” Sukuna asked, clearly annoyed.

“Have you seen Geto?” Gojo asked, ignoring Sukuna’s tone entirely.

“No,” Sukuna replied, rolling his eyes. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Gojo pouted dramatically. “You’ve really got to let this grudge go. It’s bad for your health, you know?”

Sukuna didn’t bother answering, taking another drink instead.

Meanwhile, Yuuji watched the exchange, grinning as he turned to Nobara and Megumi. “And you guys thought I had drama.”

The door opened wide, and Geto strolled in with his signature calm confidence, flanked by Shoko—whose outfit and energy screamed trouble—and…you.

Gojo, mid-laugh in a weak attempt to distract himself from his brewing nerves, froze. His grin slipped off his face like a melting snowman as his gaze landed on you. His heart skipped, then raced, and he quickly looked away, trying to play it cool. What were you doing here?

He had never seen you at a party before. Ever. This wasn’t your kind of scene—or so he thought. His mind raced. Were you dragged here by Shoko? Were you here because of someone? Was it him?

Gojo’s internal panic went unnoticed as he tried to inject himself into the conversation Yuuji was having with Sukuna, Nobara, and Megumi. His mouth moved, but his words were robotic, completely disconnected from his usual charm.

Meanwhile, Yuuji caught sight of you from across the room. His eyes widened in delight, and he immediately nudged Sukuna in the arm. “Told you she’d come! Man, I should’ve bet on it!”

Sukuna, who had been nursing his drink and half-listening to Yuuji, turned lazily in the direction his brother was pointing. And then he froze.

For a second, Sukuna genuinely thought his beer had been spiked. Was that…you?

It wasn’t like you looked unrecognizable. It was the same girl he’d seen in baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts, usually with glasses sliding down your nose and a pen tucked behind your ear. But tonight? You were…different. The tight black dress hugged your body in ways Sukuna didn’t expect, and your legs seemed to go on forever under the dim, flashing lights.

The room felt like it shifted, the music blurring into static as Sukuna stood there, completely entranced. His usual sharp, cocky demeanor? Out the window. He didn’t even realize he was staring.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Gojo’s resolve to stay cool crumbled almost immediately. His eyes kept darting toward you despite his best efforts to focus elsewhere. Every time he caught sight of your dress, your hair, the way you looked slightly shy yet undeniably stunning, his face burned.

Across the room, Shoko—true to her energy—was having the time of her life, arm slung over your shoulder as she leaned in and whispered loudly enough for half the room to hear, “Everyone is staring at you!”

You winced, cheeks warming, and muttered back, “You don’t have to tell me. I can feel it.”

Shoko grinned devilishly, her confidence radiating. “That’s because you’re a total smoke show tonight, babe. Honestly, who knew all that was under those grandma sweaters?”

“Shoko!” you hissed, smacking her arm lightly.

She cackled, clearly enjoying your embarrassment, and leaned back to grab another drink from a passing tray. She started swaying to the music, trying to drag you into her rhythm. “Come on, let’s have fun!”

Meanwhile, Sukuna was still frozen. His eyes were glued to the way your dress hugged your curves, the way the lights hit your skin, the subtle confidence in your walk. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Gojo beside him, sneaking glances at you with the same dumbstruck expression.

Gojo wandered through the chaotic maze of Hakari’s house, dodging bodies dancing to the thumping bass and narrowly avoiding a girl who nearly spilled her drink on him. His sharp eyes scanned every corner until he spotted Geto leaning casually against a wall in the living room, his arm resting above a girl’s shoulder, his tone smooth as silk.

“Of course he’s flirting,” Gojo muttered to himself, sighing. Still, he made a beeline for him, determination fueling his long strides.

Geto glanced up mid-flirt, spotting Gojo’s disheveled and slightly panicked face approaching. He smirked, clearly amused. “Ah, Satoru. See what I brought you?”

Gojo ignored the girl completely, leaning in to whisper-yell, “Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing her?”

Geto raised a brow, his smirk widening. “What?” he chuckled. “I did stupid.”

Gojo rolled his eyes. “No, you did not.”

“First of all,” Geto said, holding up a finger, “I didn’t know she was Shoko’s roommate until I went to pick her up. Second—” He raised another finger, his smirk growing smug. “I texted you. Millions of times.”

“Bullshit,” Gojo snapped, immediately pulling out his phone. His thumb scrolled furiously through his notifications, his face dropping when he saw an embarrassing number of unread messages from Geto. He groaned, cursing under his breath. “Damn it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Geto teased, taking a sip from his drink. “You really need to stop putting the none disturb mode.”

Gojo shot him a glare but quickly pivoted back to the issue at hand. “Okay, fine, you texted. But you could’ve called. You know how important this is!”

“Call you while she was in the car?” Geto raised an amused brow. “Let her know that you have liked her since middle school too?”

“Shut up,” Gojo snapped, feeling the tips of his ears heat up.

The girl Geto had been flirting with cleared her throat, clearly annoyed at being ignored. Geto glanced at her apologetically. “Sorry, babe. Give me a sec.”

She rolled her eyes and walked off, muttering something under her breath.

Geto turned back to Gojo, entirely unfazed. “She’s probably still somewhere around the party, you know. Why don’t you, oh, I don’t know…go talk to her?”

Gojo groaned, running a hand through his white hair. “It’s not that easy. I can’t just—”

“Oh, please,” Geto interrupted, grinning mischievously. “You’re Satoru Gojo, the guy who can charm anyone with just a wink. Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Gojo hissed, though his shifting gaze said otherwise.

“Right. Sure.” Geto leaned in, his grin turning devilish. “You’re terrified. Look at you. Your hands are probably sweating.”

“They’re not!” Gojo exclaimed, holding his hands out defensively.

“Then why are you so anxious?” Geto countered, tilting his head. “Oh wait—don’t tell me…you’re scared she might actually like you back.”

Gojo groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, I’m right,” Geto replied smugly. “Listen, she’s here. She looks great. And if you don’t at least try to talk to her tonight, other than asking her for a book…you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life. Or at least until your next existential crisis.”

Gojo opened his mouth to retort but closed it again when he realized he had no comeback. He exhaled sharply, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“Atta boy.” Geto clapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. “Now go sweep her off her feet, Romeo.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, but as he turned to walk away, Geto’s voice called after him, laced with teasing.

“And if you crash and burn, I’ll be right here to say ‘I told you so!’”

“Shut up, Suguru!” Gojo yelled over his shoulder, though the small smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his nerves.

The garden feels like a sanctuary compared to the chaos inside Hakari’s house. The muffled bass of the music and sporadic laughter barely touch this corner of the property. You sit stiffly on the stone bench, arms hugging your cardigan tight, watching the small lake ripple in the moonlight. The chill in the air bites, and you shift uncomfortably, wondering again why you came here.

From your spot, you can see Shoko by the patio, taking shot after shot, her cigarette glowing faintly in the dark as she laughs with a group of strangers. She’s magnetic, fearless, the complete opposite of how you feel in this moment.

The sound of gravel crunching underfoot pulls your attention, and you glance over your shoulder. Sukuna stands there, his tall figure silhouetted against the soft glow of the garden lights. He’s holding a red cup in his hand, his expression unreadable but calm.

Your breath catches, and you immediately look away, your cheeks burning as you focus intently on the lake.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says, his deep voice breaking the quiet. There’s no teasing edge, just a quiet observation.

You sneak another glance at him as he approaches and sits down on the bench, not too close, but close enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. He leans back casually, his arm draped along the back of the bench, his red cup hanging loosely from his fingers.

“Yuuji told me he invited you,” he continues, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “but I told him there was no way. Guess I was wrong.”

You give a nervous chuckle, still looking anywhere but at him. “I just… wanted to try something different, I guess.”

“And now you regret it,” he says, more a statement than a question.

You nod, your fingers gripping the edge of your cardigan. “This isn’t really my thing.”

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that feels surprisingly warm. “Already figured that much.”

You glance at him, surprised by the lack of mockery in his tone. He’s just watching you, his sharp eyes softened slightly, as though he’s trying to understand you.

“Parties aren’t for everyone,” he adds after a moment, swirling the drink in his cup absentmindedly.

“Do you like them?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop yourself.

His brow lifts slightly, as though he didn’t expect you to ask. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the lake. “I used to,” he admits, his voice quieter now.

You tilt your head, studying his profile. There’s a hint of something deeper beneath his words, and it makes you ask, “And now?”

He turns his head, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, you feel like you’re under a microscope. His eyes are intense, searching, and it’s like he’s deciding whether to let you in. Finally, he exhales softly.

“Now, they’re just noise,” he says simply. “The same faces, the same meaningless conversations. I used to think they were fun. Freedom, I guess. But…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly.

You nod, your voice soft. “I guess it’s hard to enjoy something when it doesn’t mean the same thing anymore.”

He looks at you again, and this time, his gaze lingers. There’s something almost… gentle about it, like he’s surprised that you understand. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

The air between you feels heavy but not uncomfortable. It’s as if both of you are letting the conversation settle, the quiet of the garden wrapping around you.

“Have you had anything to drink?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

You shake your head quickly. “No. I’ve never tried…alcohol before.”

His brow arches in genuine surprise. “Never?”

You shake your head again, your cheeks heating under his curious gaze. “Never…”

A small smirk tugs at his lips as he holds out his red cup. “Alright. Try this.”

You hesitate, staring at the cup as though it’s a loaded weapon. “What is it?”

“Vodka cranberry,” he says. “Not too strong. Sweet enough for a beginner.”

You hesitate, eyeing the drink with suspicion. “I don’t know…”

He chuckles, the sound soft but somehow coaxing. “Come on. One sip. It’s not gonna kill you.”

Reluctantly, you take the cup, bringing it to your lips. The liquid burns immediately, the sharpness overpowering whatever sweetness it’s supposed to have. You cough, your face contorting in disgust as you shove the cup back into his hand.

“That’s terrible,” you gasp, wiping your mouth.

Sukuna throws his head back with a laugh, the sound deep and genuine. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh like that, and despite yourself, you feel your lips twitch into a small smile.

“I should’ve warned you about the burn,” he says, still chuckling.

“You think?” you retort, your tone half-playful, half-annoyed.

He leans back again, his smirk lingering as he watches you recover. “Guess alcohol’s not for you.”

“Maybe not,” you mumble, still grimacing at the lingering taste.

The silence returns, but it’s softer now, more comfortable. You glance at him, catching him watching you, his expression unreadable but… softer than you expected.

In the distance, Mei Mei stands on the balcony, her sharp eyes locked on the two of you. Her fingers tap against the railing as jealousy flickers across her face.

Hakari’s arm slides around her waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her thigh. “What are you staring at?” he murmurs.

“Nothing,” she replies, though her gaze doesn’t waver.

Hakari leans in, brushing a kiss against her neck. “Come back inside. The party’s better when you’re in it.”

With one last glance at you and Sukuna, Mei Mei allows herself to be guided away, though her thoughts remain on the garden scene.

The moment feels strange as Sukuna, still leaning against the bench and lost in thought, suddenly notices Mahito and Jogo waving at him from across the garden. Their loud, obnoxious voices cut through the tranquility like nails on a chalkboard. Sukuna’s jaw tightens as he sighs, pulling himself up.

“I’ll be back,” he says, his voice low, as he glances at you.

You nod, your fingers tightening on your cardigan as you murmur, “Okay.”

Sukuna turns and heads toward his so-called friends, his expression immediately hardening. His patience is already thin, and the sight of Mahito’s wide, smug grin isn’t helping.

“Yo, Sukuna!” Mahito calls, throwing an arm around Sukuna’s shoulder like they’re old pals. “Who’s the hottie you’re sitting with?”

Sukuna stiffens, his brow furrowing. “Are you blind?” he snaps, shoving Mahito’s arm off him. “That’s Y/N.”

Mahito squints dramatically in your direction, then gasps, his expression exaggerated as always. “What?! That’s Y/N? The Y/N? The library nerd?”

Sukuna’s glare sharpens. “Yeah, and?”

Mahito whistles, nudging Jogo, who chuckles beside him. “Damn, she cleans up nice,” Mahito says, his tone turning sleazy. “She’s hot. Like, really hot. Who knew she had all that going on under those oversized sweaters?”

Jogo chimes in with a low laugh, adding, “Didn’t think she had it in her to show up here. Guess nerds can surprise you.”

“Shut up,” Sukuna growls, his voice low and dangerous. His fists clench, his irritation bubbling over in a way he doesn’t fully understand. “You two idiots have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mahito smirks, leaning in closer to Sukuna like he’s sharing a secret. “Relax, man. If you’re not interested, I might just take a shot myself. Hell, I’d even do the bet—”

“Say one more thing,” Sukuna interrupts, his voice ice-cold as he steps closer to Mahito, towering over him. His crimson eyes burn with an intensity that makes even Mahito falter. “And I’ll shut you up permanently. Got it?”

Mahito raises his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk on his face remains. “Alright, alright, chill. No need to get all worked up.”

Sukuna’s glare shifts to Jogo, who’s still chuckling quietly. “And you—if you don’t want me to finish what I started earlier today, you’ll keep your mouth shut too.”

Jogo’s laughter dies instantly, and he looks away, muttering something under his breath.

Without another word, Sukuna turns and walks toward the drinks table, his jaw clenched and his mind racing. He grabs a bottle of something fruity he thinks you might like, pouring it into a fresh cup.

As he turns back toward the garden, his gaze catches someone moving through the crowd. It’s Gojo, his silver hair catching the dim party lights. Sukuna raises a hand, about to call out, but stops when he notices where Gojo is looking.

Gojo’s bright blue eyes are locked on you. His normally confident stride slows as he takes you in, and then, to Sukuna’s irritation, he starts walking toward you.

Sukuna’s grip on the cup tightens, his annoyance flaring into something more complicated. Was it irritation? Jealousy? Whatever it was, it was enough to make his blood boil.

He stays rooted for a moment, watching as Gojo closes the distance between himself and you. Sukuna’s lips curl into a scowl as he mutters under his breath, “What the hell is he doing?”

Gojo’s steps are slow as he maneuvers through the chaos of Hakari’s party. The pounding bass of the music, the loud laughter, and the constant chatter fade into the background as his sharp blue eyes focus on you sitting quietly on a bench near the lake.

He stops for a moment, watching you. The way the dim garden lights cast a soft glow on your face, how your cardigan is wrapped snugly around you, and the way you stare out at the water like the party doesn’t exist at all.

Gojo lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He knew you wouldn’t blend into the noise of a place like this. It wasn’t your scene. And yet, here you were, sitting alone, so out of place but somehow fitting perfectly into this serene corner of the night.

As his nerves start to creep in, he runs a hand through his hair and takes a step forward. Okay, Satoru, he thinks to himself. Just be cool. Be yourself—okay, maybe not entirely yourself.

He finally reaches you, standing a few feet away before clearing his throat. “Hey,” he says, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

You look up at him, your expression briefly surprised, but then you give him a soft smile. “Hi,” you reply, your voice gentle.

Gojo shifts awkwardly, his usual confidence faltering. There’s a quiet moment as he debates whether to sit down or not. After a beat, he lowers himself onto the bench beside you, leaving just enough space to not make it awkward but close enough to feel the tension of his presence.

The silence between you stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, watching how your gaze remains fixed on the lake.

Finally, you break the stillness. “Did the book help?” you ask softly, turning to look at him. “For class, I mean.”

Gojo blinks, caught off guard for a moment, then smiles. “Oh, yeah,” he says, leaning back against the bench. “It helped a lot. No wonder it’s so hard to find—it’s a rare gem.”

Your lips curve into a small smile, and Gojo feels his chest tighten at the sight.

The conversation slows again, but this time, he feels the weight of the opportunity pressing on him. His palms are sweating, and for the first time in forever, he feels… nervous? Come on, Satoru, this is your shot.

“You know,” he starts, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “you look really pretty tonight.”

You blink, your cheeks instantly warming as you murmur, “Thank you.”

But Gojo doesn’t stop there. “Actually,” he continues, his tone playful yet sincere, “you’re even prettier when you’ve got that messy bun going. You know, the one you do with the pencil stuck in it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you let out a soft giggle. “How did you notice that?”

Gojo shrugs, flashing you a grin, though his gaze remains gentle. “How could I not? It’s kind of your signature look. Makes you… you.”

Your cheeks flush deeper as you glance away, trying to hide your smile. His words feel so genuine, so unlike the usual cocky, over-the-top persona he carries.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, but the atmosphere feels different now—warmer, softer. Gojo watches you, his heart pounding in a way he can’t explain.

“Thanks,” you finally say, your voice almost a whisper. “That’s… sweet of you.”

And for the first time that night, Gojo feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Sukuna leans against the wall, his red cup tilted idly in his hand, his sharp eyes focused on the bench where you and Gojo sit. His face is unreadable, but the way his jaw clenches and his fingers tighten around the cup is enough to reveal his mood.

Beside him, Mahito and Jogo are huddled together, whispering like schoolchildren. Mahito nudges Jogo with his elbow, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Look at that, Sukuna,” Mahito teases, his tone sing-song. “Gojo’s making his move. Looks like your little librarian has a new admirer.”

Sukuna doesn’t even glance at Mahito, his gaze fixed on you and Gojo. Mahito, emboldened by Sukuna’s silence, continues, “You know, maybe you should just let it go. Call it quits, hand me the $100, and admit you’re not getting anywhere with her.”

Jogo immediately stiffens and shakes his head at Mahito, trying to signal him to stop. “Mahito,” he mutters under his breath, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

Mahito waves him off. “Come on, Jogo, we’re all friends here,” he says mockingly. “Sukuna can handle a little truth.”

Sukuna’s eyes finally tear away from you and Gojo, and he glares at Mahito with such intensity that Mahito’s grin falters slightly. His voice drops into a low, dangerous growl. “Mahito, if you don’t shut up right now, I’ll make sure you leave this party with more than just a bruised ego.”

Jogo quickly steps in, grabbing Mahito’s arm. “Alright, Mahito, that’s enough,” he says nervously.

But Mahito, never one to know when to quit, opens his mouth to push further—only to be interrupted.

“Yo, Sukuna!” Hakari’s loud, cheerful voice cuts through the tension as he saunters over, a drink in one hand and Mei Mei trailing behind him.

Hakari grins broadly as he approaches. “How’s the party? Everyone having fun?”

Mahito, eager to change the subject, raises his cup. “It’s great! Perfect chaos, as always,” he replies, though his grin is still a bit uneasy.

Mei Mei steps closer, her sharp eyes briefly flicking toward Sukuna. Her movements are smooth, calculated, almost predatory, as though she’s trying to draw his attention. But Sukuna doesn’t even spare her a glance, his focus now on Hakari.

She tilts her head, her smirk faltering slightly. It’s clear she’s used to commanding attention, and Sukuna’s indifference irks her.

Hakari, oblivious to the tension or perhaps just unfazed, laughs loudly. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash, as if a vase had broken.

“Something just broke. I’m betting it was one of the glasses my mom keeps in the display cabinet.” Hakari explained unbothered.

Mahito snickers. “You’re not worried?”

Hakari waves dismissively. “Nah, I’ll just tell my parents a bird crashed into it or something. They’ll believe anything.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, the annoyance in his expression growing. As Hakari rambles on about the potential excuses he could come up with, Sukuna’s gaze instinctively drifts back to the bench where you’re still sitting.

Gojo leans in slightly, his body language casual but attentive, his focus completely on you. Sukuna’s grip on his drink tightens again, and for a brief moment, he wonders why it’s bothering him so much.

Mahito notices Sukuna’s wandering attention and leans closer, whispering with a smirk, “Still thinking about that $100 bet?”

This time, Sukuna doesn’t answer. Instead, his lips curl into a faint smirk, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Shut up, Mahito,” he mutters, before downing the rest of his drink in one go.

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive content.

Chapter 03

The air on the practice field was crisp, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows as the team warmed up. Sukuna adjusted his gloves, running a hand through his hair before jogging out to the field. The steady rhythm of cleats on grass and the sharp whistle of the coach echoed in the background.

As drills started, Sukuna spotted Gojo across the field, stretching lazily near the sidelines. Gojo had always been terrible at warm-ups, choosing to joke around instead of focusing. Sukuna jogged over, tossing a ball in his direction.

“Hey,” Sukuna said casually. “You ready to actually do something today, or are you just here to stand around?”

Gojo caught the ball effortlessly, grinning. “Please, I’m always ready. Question is, are you?” He tossed the ball back, his signature cocky smirk in place.

Sukuna chuckled, shaking his head. They’d been like this since they were kids—constant teasing, but always understanding each other on a deeper level.

As they moved into passing drills, Gojo glanced at Sukuna, his tone softening. “How you doing, man?”

“Good,” Sukuna said automatically, catching the ball and passing it back.

But Gojo knew better. He didn’t miss the slight hesitation in Sukuna’s voice, or the way his jaw tightened just a bit more than usual. The loss of Sukuna’s father still hung heavily over him, even if he pretended it didn’t.

Gojo didn’t push. Sukuna wasn’t the type to talk about emotions, and Gojo respected that. Still, it didn’t stop him from watching his best friend carefully as they moved through the drill.

Before Gojo could say anything else, Mahito and Jogo sauntered onto the field, their voices loud and obnoxious as always.

“Yo, Sukuna!” Mahito called, waving dramatically as he and Jogo approached.

Gojo let out a sigh, immediately tossing the ball back to Sukuna. “I’m gonna head over to the other side,” he said, nodding toward Nanami, who was running solo drills.

“Why?” Sukuna asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I don’t like those two,” Gojo admitted bluntly.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Sukuna said, rolling his eyes.

Gojo just shrugged, already grabbing his water bottle. “Maybe. But they’re mean. And annoying.”

“It’s whatever,” Sukuna muttered, though he knew Gojo wasn’t entirely wrong.

With that, Gojo jogged off, leaving Sukuna to deal with Mahito and Jogo.

Mahito immediately noticed the shift. “Why’d Gojo leave?” he asked, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

Sukuna shrugged, casually throwing the ball between his hands. “Said he wanted to work on some other drills with Nanami.”

Jogo snickered. “Yeah, right. Feels like Gojo’s been avoiding us lately.”

Mahito nodded. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t like me.”

Sukuna smirked, covering for his friend. “You’re paranoid. He’s just weird like that.”

Before Mahito could respond, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

Geto, the team captain, strode onto the field, clipboard in hand. His commanding presence immediately silenced the murmurs. “Alright, enough chit-chat,” he called, motioning for everyone to gather around.

As the team huddled up, Geto began assigning positions for scrimmages and barking out directions for drills. Sukuna’s competitive side kicked in as they started running plays, his focus narrowing in on the game.

Despite the lingering tension from earlier, Sukuna found himself falling into the rhythm of practice. For a while, it was just football—the roar of players, the thud of the ball, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The locker room was quiet except for the occasional clatter of lockers and the hiss of the showers in the background. Sukuna sat on the bench, sweat still dripping from his hair as he slowly peeled off his gloves and threw them into his duffel bag. Practice had been long, draining, and, frankly, irritating.

He glanced over at Gojo, who was already packing up with his usual carefree attitude.

“Don’t forget to text me about tomorrow’s party,” Gojo said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. His tone was light, but there was an undertone of genuine concern as he glanced at Sukuna.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” Sukuna replied curtly.

Gojo gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before heading out, leaving Sukuna alone with his thoughts. He leaned back against the locker, exhaling heavily, when he noticed Nanami at the far end of the room, finishing up his routine.

“Yo, Nanami,” Sukuna called, getting up and walking over.

Nanami turned, raising an eyebrow. “Sukuna.”

“Got a second?” Sukuna asked.

“Sure.”

Sukuna hesitated for a moment before speaking. “You know any good tutors for… uh…” He paused, trying to think of the name of the class Yuuji had mentioned. “Principles of Financial Management?”

Nanami looked surprised. “You’re taking that class?”

“Nah,” Sukuna said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s for my brother. He’s struggling.”

Nanami’s expression softened slightly. “How’s he holding up?”

Sukuna shrugged, his tone clipped. “He’s trying.” But there was something in his voice—an edge of weariness, an unspoken weight—that told Nanami everything he needed to know. They were still grieving.

After a pause, Nanami spoke. “Actually, your group partner—Y/N—tutors for that class. She’s good at it. She does tutoring for other subjects, too.”

Sukuna frowned. He hadn’t known that.

“Someone else, maybe?” Sukuna asked, his voice casual, but his thoughts racing.

Nanami gave him a flat look. “That’s who I’d recommend.”

Sukuna shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’ve got plans with her.”

Nanami narrowed his eyes. “Plans?”

“Yeah.” Sukuna smirked faintly, his voice dropping to a low drawl. “I’m hooking up with her. Eventually.”

Nanami’s face twisted in disbelief and annoyance. “You’re kidding, right?”

Sukuna shrugged, leaning back against the lockers. “It’s just a stupid bet.”

Nanami’s lips pressed into a thin line, his voice low and sharp. “Forget the damn bet, Sukuna. Your brother needs help, and you’re too focused on your ego to see it.”

Before Sukuna could respond, Nanami grabbed his bag and stalked off, clearly disgusted.

Sukuna sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The door to the locker room creaked open, and Geto stepped inside, his usual calm demeanor masking his curiosity.

“What was all that about?” Geto asked, leaning against a row of lockers.

“Nothing,” Sukuna muttered, brushing past him.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Geto said, straightening up. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Sukuna paused, then nodded, following Geto to a quieter corner of the locker room.

Geto folded his arms, his voice measured. “Look, I know things have been awkward. I know you wanted to be captain a while ago, and… for different reasons, you couldn’t.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, I couldn’t. Because I was off the team for months after my dad died.”

Geto nodded, his tone softening. “I didn’t want to bring that up. I didn’t know how you were doing.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“It does,” Geto said firmly. “I just want what’s best for the team, Sukuna. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I need you to help me with that. No grudges. No resentment.”

Sukuna gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Whatever.” He turned back to his locker, grabbing his stuff and slamming the door shut.

Geto watched him, his expression unreadable. “Sukuna…”

But Sukuna didn’t respond. He walked out of the locker room, leaving Geto standing there in silence. The tension lingered in the air, heavy and unresolved. Geto sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Sukuna walked out of the locker room, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, muscles still tense from the grueling practice. The evening air was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the field. His thoughts were still heavy with the discussion he had with Geto, the words biting deeper than he cared to admit.

As he rounded the corner of the campus walkway, he spotted Yuuji in the distance. His little brother was leaning casually against a bench, talking animatedly with a red-haired girl and a dark-haired boy.

The girl was striking, her auburn hair catching the fading sunlight. Her posture was confident, her laughter ringing out as she teased Yuuji about something. The boy beside her was quieter, his sharp features giving him a serious demeanor, though his lips twitched in a subtle smirk as he watched the exchange.

Yuuji, however, was the focus of it all—smiling, laughing, the weight of the past months seemingly lifted, if only for a moment. Sukuna stopped in his tracks, watching them from afar.

It had been a long time since he’d seen Yuuji like this. Carefree. Happy.

Nanami’s words replayed in his mind, and he felt a pang of guilt. You’re too focused on your ego to see it. Maybe Nanami was right. Sukuna ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling heavily before turning toward the dorms.

As he approached his room, he stopped in his tracks again. Mei Mei was there, leaning casually against the doorframe, her sleek silver hair falling over her shoulders. Her sharp eyes locked onto him, and a sly smile spread across her lips.

Sukuna immediately felt a wave of annoyance. “What are you doing here?”

She straightened, crossing her arms. “I’ve been calling. Texting. You’re ghosting me.”

Leaning against the opposite wall, Sukuna crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Yeah. That’s usually what happens when a game’s over.”

Her smile faltered, replaced with a sarcastic chuckle. “You’re being serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Sukuna replied, his tone flat. “It’s over, Mei Mei. I’ve got bigger things to focus on.”

She took a step closer, her voice dropping. “So I’m a distraction now?”

“No,” Sukuna said, his gaze cold. “You’re a nuisance. And I’m sick of your games.”

Mei Mei’s expression shifted, a mix of anger and disappointment flashing across her face. She grabbed the bag she’d left leaning against the wall and slung it over her shoulder.

“Fine,” she said, her voice icy. “But don’t come crawling back when you realize how boring your life is without me.”

Sukuna didn’t respond. He simply watched her walk away, her heels clicking against the concrete as she disappeared down the hallway.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before fishing his keys out of his pocket. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside, tossing his bag onto the sofa without a second thought.

The dorm was quiet, the faint hum of the mini-fridge the only sound. Sukuna made his way to his room, shutting the door behind him. He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind swirling with too many thoughts.

As he turned onto his side, his eyes landed on the photo on his nightstand—a picture of him and his dad, taken years ago. His dad’s hand rested on his shoulder, his smile proud and warm. Sukuna reached out and picked up the frame, his fingers brushing over the glass.

He didn’t say anything, but the ache in his chest was impossible to ignore.

He missed him.

Placing the photo back on the nightstand, Sukuna exhaled deeply, staring at it for a moment longer before turning onto his back. The silence of the room pressed in around him, but he let it, closing his eyes and trying to push everything else away.

The next morning, Sukuna arrived at campus earlier than usual. The sky was still streaked with shades of pink and gold as the sun rose, and the campus was quieter than it ever was during the chaos of the midday rush. Sukuna walked purposefully across the grounds, his sharp eyes scanning for one particular person.

He spotted you near the library entrance, your bag slung over your shoulder, a book cradled in one arm. You walked with your head down, lost in your thoughts. Sukuna felt his heartbeat quicken for a reason he couldn’t quite place. Taking a deep breath, he quickened his pace to catch up to you.

“Hey,” he said as his hand lightly touched your shoulder.

You flinched, startled, and turned quickly, your wide eyes meeting his. Confusion flickered across your face. “Oh… Sukuna?”

He cleared his throat, trying to mask his sudden nervousness with his usual nonchalant tone. “How are you?”

You hesitated, still unsure why he had stopped you, but eventually you nodded. “I’m good. How about you?”

For a moment, he forgot himself, his response caught in his throat. But then he remembered to keep up his usual demeanor. “I’m alright,” he said flatly, shrugging.

An awkward silence settled between you two, filled only by the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze. Sukuna shifted his weight, uncharacteristically unsure of himself, before finally speaking.

“Do you tutor?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Tutor? For what class?”

He mentioned the class—something about introductory economics—and your brow furrowed. “That’s… a starter class. Are you taking it?”

“No,” he replied quickly, almost defensive. “It’s for my brother. Yuuji.”

Your expression softened slightly. You hadn’t known he had a brother.

Sukuna continued, his tone more earnest than you’d ever heard before. “He’s failing miserably, and he needs help. I can’t tutor him myself; my schedule’s too complicated.”

You considered his words for a moment, noting the tension in his shoulders and the faint crease in his brow. Whatever his usual reputation was, he clearly cared about his brother.

“I can check my schedule,” you said, offering a small smile.

“Please,” Sukuna said, almost pleading. “I’ll even pay you.”

You studied him for a moment. The way he stood there, looking at you with an intensity that seemed out of character, caught you off guard. It wasn’t like the brash, arrogant Sukuna you’d come to expect.

Finally, you nodded. “I have some time at 7 p.m. today. Will that work?”

A wave of relief washed over Sukuna, and he let out a small, genuine smile. “That’s perfect. Yuuji will be there. Thank you.”

You returned his smile, a little softer, a little shy, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you, tracing the delicate curve of your cheekbone, the way the morning light caught in your eyes, and the slight flush on your face. Something about you made the world seem quieter, simpler. He felt himself falling into a trance, his usual mask slipping as his heart thudded louder in his chest.

You noticed his gaze and looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, unsure what to make of the moment.

Sukuna blinked, realizing how long he’d been staring. He shook his head, forcing himself back into reality. “I’ll see you around,” he muttered quickly before turning and walking away, his heart pounding in a way that frustrated him.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you adjusted your bag and headed into the library, though the encounter lingered in the back of your mind like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

You make your way through the library, the familiar scent of old books and polished wood calming your thoughts as you navigate past rows of shelves. The library is quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of pages and hushed whispers. You find yourself instinctively heading toward your preferred spot—the back corner of the library, tucked between two aisles no one ever visits.

Sliding your bag off your shoulder, you settle down on the floor, leaning against the wall with a stack of books nearby. The space is dimly lit, but it’s yours—a hidden haven from the chaos of campus life.

As you open your notebook, your mind betrays you, circling back to Sukuna. Your fingers hesitate over your pen as you replay the morning in your head.

Why had he stopped you? Sukuna Ryomen, the guy who was perpetually late to everything, somehow managed to be on campus before sunrise just to catch you before you disappeared into the library. But no, that couldn’t be right. You shake your head at the thought.

Sukuna didn’t do early mornings. He didn’t make an effort for anyone—at least not anyone like you.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, frustration bubbling up as the pieces refuse to fit neatly together. What had that gaze been about? The way his crimson eyes softened for just a moment, like he was seeing you for the first time.

No. Stop.

You press your pen against the page, trying to force yourself to focus. Sukuna Ryomen. The most popular guy on campus. The one who effortlessly commanded attention, who never had to try for anything. He had no reason to wake up early for you.

Your chest tightens as reality sets in, bringing an ache you wish you could ignore. “Get it through your head,” you mutter softly to yourself, your voice swallowed by the rows of books around you. Sukuna couldn’t be interested in you.

You think back to middle school, to all those years when you were invisible, blending into the background while he shone at the center of it all. He hadn’t noticed you then—why would he notice you now?

Your fingers tighten around your pen, and you lean forward, burying yourself in your notes. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. Sukuna Ryomen lives in a world far removed from yours. A fleeting smile or a lingering gaze couldn’t change that.

But even as you try to lose yourself in the pages in front of you, his voice echoes in your head: “Thank you.”

And no matter how hard you try to push it away, the faintest spark of warmth lingers.

Sukuna slams his duffle bag into his locker, the clang of metal echoing in the hallway. His mind isn’t on football practice; it’s on you. The encounter from earlier, the way you flinched when he touched your shoulder, your soft, hesitant smile—it’s all been looping in his head since he left the library. And it’s pissing him off. He’s not the kind of guy who lets this kind of thing linger.

Before he can push the thought away, Mahito’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Look who’s actually on time for once,” Mahito’s sing-song voice echoes as he saunters up, Jogo trailing behind with his usual smug expression. Mahito grins as he leans lazily against the row of lockers. “What’s the occasion? Did hell freeze over, or did you forget how clocks work?”

Jogo chuckles darkly, crossing his arms. “Yeah, the mighty Sukuna Ryomen, punctual? Must be some kind of emergency.”

Sukuna barely spares them a glance, slamming his locker shut with a force that rattles the hinges. “Had to set up tutoring for Yuuji,” he mutters, his voice clipped, hoping they’ll drop it.

“Tutoring? For your brother?” Jogo snorts. “Isn’t he old enough to figure that shit out himself? What are you, his nanny now?”

The comment stings, but Sukuna ignores it, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. He busies himself with stuffing his bag into the locker, his movements sharp and deliberate.

Mahito tilts his head, his grin widening. “Alright, I’ll bite—who’s the tutor?”

Sukuna hesitates for a moment, then mutters your name under his breath, knowing what’s about to come.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Mahito and Jogo erupt into laughter, their mocking voices filling the empty hallway.

“Her?” Jogo says, doubling over in amusement. “Oh, come on, man. Don’t tell me this is about the bet. Trying to kill two birds with one stone—help your brother and score with the tutor? That’s low, even for you.”

“I’m not doing it because of the bet,” Sukuna snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut. “I just want Yuuji to pass. That’s it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mahito says, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Sounds like someone’s chickening out. Just admit it, Sukuna—you’re scared you’ll lose, so you’re bailing.”

Sukuna’s hands ball into fists, his patience unraveling thread by thread. “Say that again,” he growls, his tone dark and dangerous.

Mahito raises his hands in mock surrender, but his smirk doesn’t waver. “Relax, I’m just kidding. No need to get all touchy.”

But Jogo? Jogo doesn’t know when to quit.

“Well, it makes sense,” Jogo says with a shrug, his voice laced with venom. “You’ve been pretty boring lately. Ever since your dad died, you’re not the same—”

The words barely register before Sukuna moves.

In a blur, he grabs Jogo by the collar and slams him into the lockers with enough force to make them shudder. The sound reverberates down the hallway, and for a moment, everything is still.

“Say that again,” Sukuna hisses, his crimson eyes blazing with fury. His voice is low, deadly, and it sends a chill down Mahito’s spine.

Jogo’s usual smirk vanishes, replaced by wide-eyed fear. He sputters, trying to find his voice. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” Sukuna snarls, his grip tightening. “To open your damn mouth? Or to remind me why I shouldn’t let you speak at all?”

“Come on, Sukuna, let him go,” Mahito says, stepping forward, though his voice lacks its usual confidence. He tries to pull Sukuna away, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall.

Sukuna doesn’t even acknowledge him, his gaze fixed on Jogo. “You think you can talk about him like that? Like you have any right?”

“S-Sukuna, I didn’t—” Jogo chokes, his hands clawing at Sukuna’s grip.

“Enough!” Nanami’s voice cuts through the tension like a whip.

Everyone turns to see him striding down the hallway, his expression stern and unyielding. He stops a few feet away, his presence commanding. “Sukuna, let him go. Now. Unless you want the principal involved.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches, his grip tightening for a moment before he shoves Jogo back. Jogo stumbles, hitting the floor with a thud, his face pale and sweaty.

Nanami steps closer, his gaze sweeping over the group. “What the hell happened here?”

Mahito sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jogo… brought up Sukuna’s dad.”

Nanami closes his eyes briefly, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He exhales slowly, then looks at Sukuna, whose fists are still clenched, his chest heaving.

“Walk it off,” Nanami says firmly. “Before you do something even more reckless.”

Sukuna doesn’t respond. He grabs his bag, slams his locker shut with a force that makes the hallway tremble, and storms off without another word.

Nanami watches him go, his expression heavy with disapproval. “Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.

Mahito and Jogo exchange nervous glances, the weight of what just happened settling over them like a storm cloud.

Gojo strolled across campus, the crisp autumn breeze ruffling his white hair as he held a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. His psychology professor had assigned a project, and they needed a very specific book—an older edition that, according to his usual online bookstore, this rare gem, was only available in the campus library.

He pushed open the heavy library doors, greeted by the familiar scent of old pages and polished wood. The quiet atmosphere pressed against his usually loud personality, but he liked it. It felt like stepping into another world, one where time moved slower and everything had its place.

Walking up to the librarian, he slid the paper onto the counter and flashed his signature smile. “Excuse me, where can I find this book?”

The librarian adjusted her glasses, glanced at the paper, and gestured toward the far end of the library. “Back section, seventh aisle.”

“Got it. Thanks,” he said, already turning to head in that direction.

Gojo weaved through the maze of bookshelves, his steps slowing as he took in the quiet beauty of the place. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, painting golden streaks across the dark wood floors. Then, as he approached the seventh aisle, he saw you.

You were sitting at a small table tucked into the farthest corner, your head bent over a notebook. A pen danced across the page, your focus entirely on whatever you were writing. You looked peaceful, completely absorbed in your work, and Gojo felt his breath hitch.

He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away either.

What are you doing, Satoru? he scolded himself. You’re here for a book, not to gawk at someone.

Still, his gaze lingered. The way the soft light framed your features, the slight furrow of your brow as you concentrated—it all captivated him.

He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the rows of books instead. But even as his eyes scanned the titles, his thoughts kept drifting back to you.

After what felt like an eternity of aimless searching, he sighed and clenched his fists. “Come on, man. Just say hi,” he muttered under his breath, remembering Geto’s advice.

Drawing a deep breath, he gathered his courage and walked toward your table. Each step felt heavier than the last, and he almost turned back. But then you glanced up, sensing his presence, and your eyes met his.

He froze.

“Hi,” he managed to say, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

You blinked at him, surprised, before offering a small, polite smile. “Hi.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the library amplifying the tension. Gojo mentally kicked himself, scrambling to fill the silence. He held out the crumpled paper. “Uh… do you know where I can find this book?”

You glanced at the paper, then nodded. “Yeah, follow me.”

He trailed after you as you led him through the maze of shelves. Despite the silence, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’ve, uh, never been here before,” he said, breaking the quiet. “I usually buy my books online, but this one wasn’t available.”

You glanced back at him briefly, your expression softening. “The library usually has what you need. It’s a good resource if you’re ever stuck.”

He nodded, though his focus wasn’t on your words—it was on the sound of your voice, how calm and steady it was.

As you continued walking, he tried to make small talk. “So, do you come here often?”

You chuckled softly. “I do. It’s quiet back here, and I like the solitude.”

“I can see that,” he said, glancing around. “It’s nice. Peaceful.”

Finally, you stopped in front of a tall shelf. “Here it is,” you said, pointing to the top row.

Gojo tilted his head, watching as you stretched onto your tiptoes, reaching for the book. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Here, let me get that for you,” he said, stepping forward.

He easily grabbed the book, his height giving him an advantage. He handed it to you, and your fingers brushed briefly against his as you took it.

You glanced at the title, then nodded. “This is the one.”

He looked at the cover, then at you. “Yep, definitely 100% the book.”

You laughed softly, and Gojo felt his chest tighten.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You blinked, your cheeks flushing pink. “Oh. Um… thank you.”

Gojo’s face burned as he realized what he’d said. He scratched the back of his neck, fumbling for words. “I mean, uh—sorry, that just kind of… um…”

“It’s okay,” you said, smiling at him. “Thank you, Gojo.”

The sound of his name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine. It was simple, casual, yet it felt like music.

“You… know my name?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded. “We went to middle school together.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “I know, I just— nothing.”

You smiled, a hint of shyness in your expression. “Well, it was nice talking to you, but I should get to class.”

He nodded, though a part of him wanted to keep talking to you. “Same here.”

As you turned and walked away, he watched you go, the book still clutched in his hand. He felt lighter somehow, like he’d taken a step forward without even realizing it.

When he finally turned back, he saw Geto standing at the end of the aisle, grinning like an idiot.

“So?” Geto asked as Gojo approached.

Gojo hesitated, then smiled softly. “It was… nice.”

“Nice?” Geto teased. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up,” Gojo muttered, though the blush on his face betrayed him.

Geto laughed, slapping him on the back. “Hey, I’m proud of you, lover boy.”

Gojo groaned, but deep down, he couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through his chest.

Yuuji was walking with Nobara and Megumi, his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder as they discussed the wild plans for Hakari’s party later that night. They were both excited about it, talking about all the fun they were going to have, but Yuuji couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. The last thing he expected, though, was to see his older brother approaching—especially not now.

As if on cue, Sukuna appeared, his tall frame cutting through the crowd like a knife. He was dressed in his usual casual style—jeans and a fitted T-shirt that showed off his toned physique. His expression was cool, as always, and his eyes locked on Yuuji from across the quad, making Yuuji’s heart do an involuntary flip. His brother had this unsettling aura, like he could make anyone do exactly what he wanted with just one look.

Yuuji gulped, already sensing trouble. “Uh-oh, here it comes.”

Sukuna made his way toward them with purpose, ignoring the looks he got from students along the way. He was a force to be reckoned with, and everyone knew it.

“Yuuji,” Sukuna said flatly, voice carrying across the open campus. It was a voice that didn’t ask, didn’t plead—it simply commanded. “I’ve set up a tutoring session for you at 7 PM. Library. Don’t be late.”

Yuuji blinked. “Wait, what? The party’s tonight though?”

Sukuna looked at him, unimpressed. “I don’t care.”

There was no anger, no frustration in his voice—just pure, unfiltered indifference. The words hit Yuuji like a punch to the gut. Sukuna had that effect on him. Yuuji wasn’t sure if his brother was trying to be intimidating or just being… well, Sukuna. Probably both.

“The party starts later. Be there when you’re done with your little session,” Sukuna added, voice thick with the unspoken expectation. There was no room for negotiation in his tone.

Yuuji rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he muttered, barely holding back a groan. “I’ll be there.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, making Yuuji freeze for a moment. “What did you say?”

Yuuji quickly snapped to attention, throwing his hands up in a defensive motion. “I said yeah, yeah! I got it, big bro, geez.”

Sukuna studied him for a moment longer, making sure he wasn’t being mocked, and then gave a curt nod. “Good. Now, be on time. You’re not getting out of this.”

Yuuji gave him an exaggerated salute, grinning even though his brother’s unwavering stare was making his insides twist. “I’ll be there, promise. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

With that, Sukuna turned away and started walking off, leaving Yuuji, Nobara, and Megumi to watch him go.

Once Sukuna was out of earshot, Nobara let out a dramatic sigh, clearly impressed. “Damn, your brother’s hot.”

Megumi shot her a disgusted look, clearly unamused by her comment. “I swear, sometimes you’re unbearable.”

Yuuji’s face flushed at the conversation. “Don’t look at my brother like that,” he said quickly, trying to change the subject.

Nobara wasn’t going to let it go, though. She turned to Yuuji with a smirk. “Is it true, though? Is your brother a man whore or not?”

Yuuji stared at her, confused. “What rumors?”

“The rumors, idiot,” Nobara said, leaning in slightly, “That Sukuna’s some kind of walking, talking, heartbreaker?” Her voice lowered to a teasing tone. “Is it true?”

Before Yuuji could answer, Megumi muttered, “God, Nobara, you’re such a cunt.” His voice was almost disgusted, but also tired from dealing with her antics.

Nobara shot back. “And you’re a dick, Megumi.”

Yuuji chuckled, despite himself. He scratched the back of his neck, looking somewhat sheepish. “Unfortunately, yeah, it’s true. But… I think he’ll change at some point.”

Nobara and Megumi exchanged a glance, and Megumi made a face, one that spoke volumes. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He shook his head with a quiet scoff.

Yuuji rolled his eyes, letting the tension slide off his shoulders. “We’ll see,” he muttered.

As they continued walking toward their next class, Nobara shot Yuuji a glance. “So, when are you going to Hakari’s party?”

Yuuji smiled. “Once I’m done with the tutoring session. Can’t leave my brother hanging.”

Nobara grinned, “Alright, text me when you’re heading there. I’ll meet you before the madness starts.”

Yuuji gave her a thumbs-up, “Sure thing.” Then he turned his attention back to Megumi, who had already begun walking toward their class. The rest of the day would pass by in a blur, but Yuuji had the party to look forward to, along with a tutoring session that would keep him busy for a while.

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive content.

Chapter 02

Gojo walked out of his Spanish class with a triumphant grin plastered across his face, clutching a paper marked with a glaring red C minus. A low bar, sure, but for him, it was practically a victory lap. “Could’ve been worse,” he muttered to himself, the sting of mediocrity softened by the relief of not failing.

The hallway buzzed with chatter as students moved between classes. Gojo’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a familiar figure by the lockers. Geto was closing his locker with a casual thud, his posture as composed and commanding as ever.

“Yo,” Gojo called, his grin widening as he sauntered over.

Geto glanced up, greeting him with a firm clap on the back that resonated with unspoken camaraderie. “Practice is at seven,” he said, his tone cool and matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo waved him off, already falling into step beside him.

They walked together, weaving through the sea of students, when Gojo’s attention abruptly snagged on a particular sight: you, seated near the library entrance, your head bent over a book. The faintest smile curved his lips, unbidden and unmistakable.

Geto noticed instantly. He followed Gojo’s line of sight, his expression shifting into a sly smirk. Without warning, he bumped Gojo’s shoulder. “Seriously? Again?”

Gojo blinked, snapping out of his trance. “What?” he said, feigning innocence.

Geto gave him a knowing look, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You know what. When are you actually going to talk to her instead of just staring like a creep?”

“I’m not staring,” Gojo muttered, though his reddening ears betrayed him.

“Oh, my bad,” Geto teased, raising his hands mockingly. “Admiring from afar. Much more respectable.”

Gojo huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just… haven’t had the right opportunity, that’s all.”

Geto stopped walking and turned to face him fully, crossing his arms. “Are you serious? You’ve been in half her classes since freshman year. Opportunities have been handed to you.”

“It’s different,” Gojo insisted, his voice quieter now.

“Different how?” Geto asked, his smirk fading into something softer, more genuine. “You’ve been into her since middle school. What’s stopping you?”

Gojo hesitated, his gaze darting back toward the library. You were still there, blissfully unaware of his internal turmoil. “It’s… the whole social thing.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What does that even mean?”

Gojo sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me,” Geto said, his voice calm but firm.

Gojo hesitated again, then relented. “People like her don’t date people like me. It’s just… we’re in totally different worlds, you know?”

Geto stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not dumb!” Gojo shot back, his voice tinged with frustration. “Do you know what it’s like to get ripped apart for stepping out of line socially?”

Geto’s expression shifted slightly. He tilted his head, studying Gojo intently. “Is that what this is about? Mahito, Jogo, and Sukuna?”

Gojo shrugged, his jaw tightening. “You know how they are. And Sukuna—he’s been like a brother to me since we were kids, but he’s… different. He wouldn’t understand this.”

Geto leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed. “So what, you’re scared of Sukuna?”

Gojo bristled. “I’m not scared of him. I just… I can’t talk to him about this. He’d laugh. Or worse, he’d make it into some big joke.”

“And you think I wouldn’t?” Geto asked, one brow arching.

Gojo shook his head. “You’re different. You don’t… judge me for this stuff.”

Geto’s smirk returned, faint but genuine. “Of course I don’t. That’s what makes me the superior best friend.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, but his shoulders relaxed slightly.

Geto pushed off the wall and gestured toward the library with a tilt of his chin. “Look, man. She’s right there. You don’t have to pour your heart out or anything—just say hi. It’s not that hard.”

Gojo stared at the library doors, his feet rooted to the ground. “…What if she thinks I’m weird?”

“Then she thinks you’re weird,” Geto said bluntly. “You’ll survive. But who knows? Maybe she smiles. Maybe she talks to you. Maybe you’re not as hopeless as you think.”

Gojo shot him a skeptical look.

“Come on,” Geto urged. “One sentence. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Gojo exhaled deeply, his gaze flickering between the library and Geto. “…I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Geto groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Unbelievable.”

You stand up from the bench near the library, clutching your bag, your eyes catching a glimpse of Gojo and Geto standing together in the distance. They’re talking, but what unsettles you is how their gazes linger in your direction, like they’re sharing some private joke at your expense. It’s always been like this—Gojo’s stare, Geto’s smirk—it feels like they’re mocking you.

Your mind races, picking apart every possible reason. Is it your outfit? Too plain? Too wrinkled? You glance at your reflection in the library window, smoothing down your shirt and adjusting your glasses. Maybe it’s your hair, messy from the humid breeze. Maybe it’s the way your glasses slip down your nose.

The thought gnaws at you until you can’t stand it anymore. Gripping your bag, you take refuge in the library, the familiar scent of books and old paper a small comfort against the anxiety clawing at your chest.

You head straight to the back corner, the quietest part of the library where no one goes, and settle into a chair. As you pull out your books, your phone buzzes on the table, making you jump.

It’s a text from Sukuna.

Sukuna: “You free to talk about the project?”

You stare at the screen, your hands clammy. You glance around the library as though he might somehow already be here, watching you.

You: “I’m at the library. Free until 3 pm.”

Your fingers tremble as you hit send. The reply comes almost instantly.

Sukuna: “On my way.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you set your phone down, staring at it like it might explode. He’s coming here. You feel the familiar churn of nerves in your stomach, a mixture of dread and anticipation.

You gather your things, moving to a more central table, one with enough space to spread out your books and notes.

You set up your notebooks, flipping through them as you rehearse how you’ll act, what you’ll say. Calm. Professional. Unbothered. But the way your fingers keep fidgeting with the edge of a page betrays the calm façade you’re so desperately trying to maintain.

You glance at the clock. Five minutes. Just five minutes, and Sukuna will be here.

Sukuna strode toward the library, its imposing doors feeling oddly foreign to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot in a place like this. Was it middle school? High school, maybe? He shook his head, shoving the thought aside as his eyes scanned the room.

There you were, seated at a table in the far corner, your head tilted down as you scribbled something in your notebook. You looked nervous, fiddling with the edge of the paper, occasionally glancing around. He sighed, straightening his posture and adjusting his expression. This was part of the plan. He had to make it convincing.

As he approached, he called your name, letting his voice soften in a way that surprised even him. “Y/N,” he said, a faint lilt of warmth threading through the syllables.

Your head shot up, eyes wide, and then… you smiled. A genuine, unguarded smile that made something in him pause. She has a pretty smile.

He shoved the thought away almost as soon as it formed. No distractions. This was just for the bet.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice professional and polite, though he could hear the slightest tremor of nervousness. “Thank you for coming. I was just reviewing some potential ideas for the project.”

He gave a faint nod and slid into the chair across from you, leaning back in a way that radiated casual confidence. “No problem. What’ve you got?”

You pushed your notebook toward him, your voice gaining momentum as you spoke. “The topic is Investment Risk Management, so I thought we could start with a breakdown of the primary risk categories—market risk, credit risk, liquidity risk—and then move into mitigation strategies. For example, diversification, hedging, or credit default swaps…”

He nodded occasionally, pretending to listen as his eyes wandered to your face. You were animated, your hands gesturing slightly as you explained your thoughts. But then, something shifted.

Your words slowed, and you began to avoid his gaze. Your fingers curled inward, fidgeting with the pen in your hand.

He followed your line of sight, glancing over his shoulder, and his jaw tightened. Mahito and Jogo were pressed up against the library window, their shoulders shaking with laughter as they mimicked something obscene.

Sukuna’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he shot them a glare that could have frozen hell over. The two idiots immediately straightened, ducking out of sight like guilty schoolboys.

Turning back to you, he let out a sharp breath and said, “Ignore them. They’re like children.” The words sounded strange coming from his mouth—Nanami’s phrase, verbatim—but it seemed to work.

You gave a small, tight-lipped smile. “It’s fine,” you murmured, brushing it off, and resumed your explanation.

As you talked, Sukuna found his attention drifting again—not to the words, but to you. The way the soft library light caught in your hair. The way your fingers tapped against the notebook when you were trying to think. The way your lips moved, forming each syllable with precision.

He caught himself, blinking hard. What the hell am I doing? This wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to be noticing these things about you. This was a bet. Just a stupid, meaningless bet.

“Sukuna?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked at you, startled. “What?”

You frowned slightly, looking both confused. “I asked which topic we should go with. I narrowed it down to either mitigation strategies or analyzing real-life risk scenarios. Which do you think is better?”

He stared at you for a beat too long before leaning back, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “Uh… whichever you think is best.”

Your expression flickered—just for a second—before you nodded. “Alright. Then I think we should go with mitigation strategies. It’s more structured and easier to present.”

“Sounds good,” he said, already feeling like he’d messed up.

You scribbled the final choice into your notebook, your pen pressing a little harder against the paper than before. He could feel the disappointment emanating from you, but you didn’t say anything, just kept writing.

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. He needed to get his head in the game—this wasn’t about you.

You glance at Sukuna, trying to shake off the growing discomfort. “Maybe you could start gathering information on the mitigation strategies? We could meet on Monday and review what we both found.”

Sukuna nods, his expression unreadable, and you nod back. The tension feels like it’s stretching between you, and you quickly start packing your things. “I think… that’s enough for today.”

He stands up as you do, his movements slower than usual. For the first time in his life, Sukuna Ryomen feels unsure—no, nervous—around a girl. He doesn’t know what to say or how to salvage the moment, but the silence is suffocating.

“I’ll… see you around,” he says, and he hates how awkward it sounds even as the words leave his mouth.

You nod again, clutching your bag to your chest, and walk away quickly—too quickly. Almost running. Sukuna watches you leave, frowning.

As he steps out of the library, Mahito and Jogo are waiting for him like vultures circling a fresh meal.

Mahito snickers. “Dude. That was painful. I think my grandma could flirt better than that, and she’s been dead for five years.”

Jogo bursts out laughing. “No, seriously, did she run? I swear I’ve never seen someone speed-walk like that outside of a power-walking competition.”

Sukuna glares at them, his fists clenching. “Shut up. She didn’t run. She just… walks fast.”

“Right,” Mahito smirks. “Because she couldn’t wait to get away from you. What happened to ‘Mr. Smooth’? You looked like you were about to pass out.”

“Yeah, isn’t this your thing?” Jogo adds, grinning. “Talk a little, smirk a little, and they’re putty in your hands. What happened? Did she intimidate you?”

“Shut it, both of you,” Sukuna snaps. “I don’t see either of you doing better.”

Mahito throws his arm around Jogo dramatically. “That’s because we don’t need to. We’re not the ones making a fool of ourselves in the library.”

Jogo pretends to wipe a tear. “It was tragic, man. Like watching a lion forget how to hunt.”

Sukuna steps toward them, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. “If you two don’t quit it, you’ll be the next tragic story.”

Mahito raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Alright, alright. Don’t get all defensive, loverboy. Just saying, if this keeps up, you’re gonna owe me a hundred bucks for wasting my time.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who can’t spell ‘library,’” Sukuna retorts.

Jogo howls with laughter, clutching his sides, while Mahito glares at him. “I know how to spell it, you idiot. It’s L-I-B-E—”

“It’s L-I-B-R-A-R-Y, you moron,” Sukuna cuts him off, rolling his eyes.

Mahito shrugs. “Whatever. Point is, in how this is going… it just shows that she is way out of your league.”

Sukuna smirks, his confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As Mahito and Jogo continue laughing, Sukuna walks ahead of them, already plotting his next move. He wasn’t about to let them—or you—get the last word.

You walk into your dorm, dropping your bag by the door. The room is quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day. Your eyes land on a small note taped to your roommate’s desk:

“Staying with a friend tonight – Shoko.”

You smile faintly. Shoko is one of the few people you can tolerate, despite her glaring flaws. She’s easygoing and never pries into your business, though her smoking habit… well, that’s another story.

Your gaze shifts to her desk, cluttered with cigarette packs, half-used lighters, and an array of brightly colored vapes. You shake your head, amused despite yourself. At this rate, her lifespan is probably down by twenty percent, you think.

You toss the note back onto her desk and flop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day replay in your mind like a bad movie.

Your interaction with Sukuna comes to the forefront. The way his two friends were laughing and staring at you through the library window lingers in your thoughts, making your cheeks heat up. Were they laughing at me? you wonder.

You feel the all-too-familiar pang of embarrassment. But then again, embarrassment has always been your shadow, hasn’t it?

Your mind drifts back to middle school. Back then, Sukuna didn’t even know you existed. To him—and to most of the school—you were just another face in the crowd, a quiet blur on the periphery of his world.

But you had noticed him. How could you not? Sukuna Ryomen was larger than life, even back then. He was the kind of boy who made everyone stop and stare. The boy who had everything—looks, confidence, attention.

And you? You were the girl who blended into the wallpaper. The one no one saw.

You sigh, shifting onto your side and hugging your pillow. Somewhere deep inside, you wish someone—anyone—had noticed you back then.

But even now, years later, you’re still the same invisible girl, aren’t you?

Your thoughts grow heavier as you close your eyes, trying to shake off the feeling. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. It never mattered.

But it does. And you hate that it does.

Sukuna pushes open the door to his dorm, already irritated from his day. As he steps inside, his eyes immediately land on his younger brother, Yuuji, sprawled across the sofa, fast asleep. His mouth is slightly open, soft snores escaping as a few loose papers cling to his shirt like forgotten leaves.

Sukuna’s lips curl into a smirk as he picks up a sofa pillow and hurls it at Yuuji’s head.

“Wake up, idiot,” Sukuna barks.

Yuuji jolts upright, flailing for a moment before groaning in frustration. “What the hell, Sukuna?” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“What the hell, Yuuji?” Sukuna mocks in a sing-song tone, walking over to the cluttered coffee table. His eyes scan the scattered papers, notebooks, and highlighters, and he snorts. “Wow, looks like your freshman year is going fantastic.” His voice drips with sarcasm as he picks up a crumpled syllabus and tosses it back onto the table.

Yuuji groans again, slumping back into the sofa. “Don’t start. I’m behind, okay? I’m trying, but…” He trails off, his voice quieter now. “I just feel drained.”

Sukuna pauses for a moment, his teasing demeanor faltering. He knows that feeling all too well, though he’d never admit it.

“Do you want me to find you a tutor?” Sukuna offers, leaning casually against the back of the sofa, as though the question is no big deal.

Yuuji shakes his head quickly. “No, you don’t have to take care of me, Sukuna. I can handle it.”

That makes Sukuna pause again, his usual sharp retorts replaced by an unfamiliar silence. He glances at Yuuji, who now sits curled up in a corner of the sofa, looking small and defeated.

Sukuna exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before walking over to stand in front of his brother. “Look,” he begins, his tone softer now, though it still carries that edge he can’t quite shake, “I promised Dad I’d take care of you. And I don’t break promises.”

Yuuji turns his head away, trying to hide the emotion on his face. Sukuna doesn’t miss it, though. He knows his brother too well. He knows how close Yuuji was to their father, how their dad’s death just months ago had shattered him in ways Yuuji didn’t like to show. Sukuna doesn’t do emotions, not openly. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel them.

After a beat, Sukuna sits down beside him on the sofa, the space between them heavy with unspoken words. “You don’t have to do this on your own, Yuuji,” he says finally. “I’ll find you a tutor. Someone decent. I’m kind of a big deal on campus, you know.”

That earns him a small smile from Yuuji, who glances at him sidelong. “A big deal, huh?”

“Damn right,” Sukuna replies, smirking as he reaches over to ruffle Yuuji’s already messy hair.

“Hey!” Yuuji protests, swatting at Sukuna’s hand but laughing now, the tension in the room lifting just slightly.

Sukuna leans back, crossing his arms as he looks at his brother. “Don’t screw it up, though. If I go through the trouble of finding someone, you’d better actually show up and not embarrass me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuuji says, rolling his eyes but still smiling.

Sukuna doesn’t say it, but he feels a small sense of relief seeing that smile. For now, that’s enough.

Sukuna leans back against the couch, arms crossed, watching Yuuji fiddle with his papers. He’s about to make another sarcastic comment when Yuuji suddenly looks up and says, “Oh, by the way, Mei Mei came by earlier.”

Sukuna doesn’t even flinch. “So?”

“She was asking about you,” Yuuji continues, ignoring his brother’s indifference. “Something about you not answering her calls or messages.”

“Don’t care,” Sukuna says flatly, his tone almost bored as he gets up and starts walking toward the kitchen.

Yuuji watches him carefully, his brow furrowing in suspicion. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re acting weird,” Yuuji presses, standing up and following him.

Sukuna stops by the counter, pulling out a pan from one of the cabinets. “I’m over it,” he says finally, his voice steady but clipped.

“Over what?”

“Her.”

Yuuji stares at him, confused. “What do you mean? Mei Mei?”

“Yeah,” Sukuna says with a shrug, focusing on grabbing ingredients from the fridge.

Yuuji tilts his head, his curiosity piqued. “Okay, but what do you mean you’re over it? You guys were… whatever you were. You always go back to her.”

Sukuna slams the fridge shut and looks at Yuuji, a faint irritation flickering in his eyes. “I’m sick of her games, alright?”

“What games?” Yuuji asks, still clueless.

“It’s weird to talk about this stuff with my little brother,” Sukuna mutters, avoiding eye contact as he sets a cutting board on the counter.

“I’m a full-grown-ass adult,” Yuuji fires back, crossing his arms.

That earns him a small chuckle from Sukuna. “Alright, fine.” He grabs a knife and starts chopping vegetables, his tone casual but pointed. “We started dating, then she didn’t want anything serious. Then she hooks up with everyone, gets pissed when I hook up with someone else, then we’re back at it again. And it’s all just… a damn game. A game I don’t like anymore.”

Yuuji processes this for a moment, leaning against the counter. “So you’re over her?”

“Yes,” Sukuna replies curtly, not looking up from the cutting board.

Yuuji raises an eyebrow. “Does this mean you’re finally gonna find a girlfriend?”

Sukuna snorts. “I don’t do relationships, Yuuji. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never had a proper one.”

“Every relationship I’ve been in has ended badly,” Sukuna says, tossing the chopped vegetables into a pan and turning on the stove.

“Maybe because you haven’t found the right person,” Yuuji suggests, his tone hopeful.

“God, you sound like you’re quoting one of those cheesy fantasy stories,” Sukuna groans, shaking his head.

Yuuji grins. “Maybe you just need your princess, Sukuna. Someone to break your cold, dead heart.”

“Shut up before I throw this at you,” Sukuna threatens, pointing the spatula at his brother, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

As the aroma of stir-fried vegetables fills the kitchen, Yuuji leans against the counter, watching Sukuna cook.

“By the way,” Yuuji says, “I’ll be hanging out with some friends later. Just a heads-up.”

“Fine,” Sukuna replies, flipping the food in the pan. “But don’t forget, I’ve got practice at seven. Don’t make me come looking for you if you’re late.”

Yuuji laughs. “Relax, I’m not the one with a habit of skipping commitments.”

Sukuna glances at him with a raised brow. “That’s rich coming from the guy drowning in late assignments.”

“Touché,” Yuuji concedes, grabbing two plates from the cupboard as Sukuna finishes cooking.

Sukuna slides the food onto the plates, handing one to Yuuji. “Eat up. You’ll need the energy to catch up on your work, or, you know, for your so-called friends.”

Yuuji smirks as he takes a bite. “And you’ll need the energy to find a girlfriend so I can have a sister in law.”

Sukuna throws a napkin at him. “Yeah yeah.”

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆ Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive content.

Chapter 01

You’ve always known your place in the world.

The quiet one. The overachiever. The nerd. Your identity is a sum of academic accolades, a steady stream of perfect grades, and the quiet approval of teachers and professors. They praise your dedication, your punctuality, and your sharp mind. Students tolerate you. You’re useful when group projects roll around or when someone needs last-minute homework answers. Beyond that, they keep their distance.

You don’t blame them. Socially, you’ve always been… lacking. You’re an introvert through and through. Conversation is a hurdle, and parties make you feel like a fish flopping on dry land. But the truth is, you’ve made peace with your solitude. Better to exist on the sidelines than risk rejection by stepping into the spotlight.

It’s a routine you’ve mastered. That is, until Ryomen Sukuna walks by.

You’re moving through the bustling college hallway, textbook clutched tightly to your chest, when the loud voices of the football team cut through the air like static. You don’t have to look to know who they are. The athletes. The popular ones. The untouchables.

But there’s one voice that stands out above the rest, one figure who naturally commands attention.

Sukuna.

The moment you see him, your stomach twists in a way you hate. He’s impossibly good-looking, with sharp features, smoldering eyes, and a smirk that seems permanently etched onto his face. His confidence radiates off him like heat. Girls adore him. Professors cut him slack they wouldn’t dream of giving anyone else. Even guys can’t seem to hate him, not entirely.

He’s everything you’re not. Charismatic, magnetic, popular. And the worst part? He knows it.

You grit your teeth and keep walking, eyes fixed on the linoleum floor. You’ve spent years trying to squash the stupid crush that sprouted in high school, but it lingers like an old scar, refusing to fade. You hate how your heart skips whenever you see him, hate the way your palms grow clammy at the sound of his voice.

Because guys like Sukuna don’t notice girls like you.

The bell rings, slicing through the chaos of the hallway. You quicken your pace, weaving through the thinning crowd until you reach your finance class. It’s your sanctuary. Numbers make sense to you. Spreadsheets and formulas are puzzles you can solve, a language you speak fluently.

You settle into your usual seat—second row, third desk from the left—and arrange your notebook and pens in neat order. The classroom fills up slowly, the buzz of conversation a low hum in the background.

Dr. Aramaki strides in moments later, his presence commanding as he sets his leather briefcase on the desk. He’s a seasoned professor, his gray hair and sharp eyes giving him an air of authority. He launches into the lecture without preamble, writing “Investment Risk Management” on the board in neat, precise handwriting.

You’re already scribbling notes when the door creaks open.

“Sorry, prof. Practice ran late.”

The voice sends a jolt down your spine.

Ryomen Sukuna saunters in, his duffle bag slung lazily over one shoulder. His damp hair glints under the fluorescent lights, and the faint scent of cedar and mint wafts your way as he passes by.

Dr. Aramaki doesn’t even flinch. “Take a seat, Sukuna. And next time, try to be on time.”

Sukuna grins, unbothered, and scans the room. To your horror, his gaze lands on the empty desk behind you.

He sinks into the chair, the legs screeching against the tile. Your heart pounds as his presence settles behind you, a tangible weight.

You try to focus on the lecture, but every movement he makes—every creak of his chair, every muttered comment to the guy beside him—distracts you. You feel his eyes on the back of your head more than once, and it takes everything in you not to turn around.

Then, a light tap on your shoulder.

You freeze.

Slowly, you glance back. Sukuna is leaning forward, his notebook blank in front of him, a pen dangling loosely from his fingers. He flashes you a grin, all teeth and effortless charm.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “What page are we on?”

Your brain stutters. For a second, you forget how words work.

“Uh…” You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes are brighter up close, twin embers smoldering with something unreadable. “Page eighty-four.”

“Thanks.”

He smirks again, and you whip back around before he can say anything else, your cheeks burning.

The class feels like it’s dragging, and for once, your meticulous note-taking has been replaced by idle doodling. Your pen sketches swirling patterns along the edges of your notebook, a habit you’ve developed over the years to keep your nerves at bay.

Dr. Aramaki finishes a particularly dry explanation on risk assessment, then clears his throat, his voice cutting through the hum of the lecture hall.

“Alright, everyone. Listen up,” he says, taking a clipboard from his desk. “For this project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

Excited whispers ripple through the room as students glance around, already scouting for partners. Your shoulders relax slightly. People rarely rush to partner with you, so you’ve resigned yourself to whoever’s left.

“Don’t bother,” Dr. Aramaki announces, raising a hand to silence the room. “I’ve already assigned the pairs.”

The collective groan that follows is almost comedic.

You, however, are relieved. Group projects always devolve into awkward negotiations, and you’d rather avoid the hassle. At least this way, you can stay in your lane.

Dr. Aramaki begins reading off the list, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Gojo and Nanami.”

You hear Gojo’s delighted laugh and Nanami’s deep sigh of resignation. It doesn’t take a genius to guess how that partnership will go.

“Geto and Kawahara.”

The list continues, and you focus on your doodles, trying not to overthink. Whoever you’re paired with can’t possibly be worse than—

“Y/L/N and Sukuna.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You freeze, your pen hovering mid-air.

This can’t be happening.

“Keep in mind that this project is for the end of semester and it’s 80% of your grade.” Dr. Aramaki emphasized.

Your heart sinks as your mind scrambles for an explanation, a way out, something. But no. Dr. Aramaki has already moved on, and Sukuna, seated behind you, doesn’t even flinch.

The rest of class is a blur. You force yourself to act normal, though your hand trembles slightly as you scribble in your notebook. Doodles multiply along the margins, aimless swirls and stars filling every blank space.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of the lecture, you’re the first to start packing up. Your goal is simple: leave before Sukuna says anything.

But, of course, the universe isn’t that kind.

A light tap on your shoulder stops you in your tracks.

You turn to find Sukuna standing there, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering a second too long, and then he says the words that make your brain short-circuit:

“Are you Y/L/N?”

Your jaw tightens. You stare at him, utterly dumbfounded.

How does he not know you? You’ve known him since middle school, sat in the same classrooms, attended the same schook events. It’s impossible to miss someone like Sukuna. Yet, here he is, looking at you like you’re a stranger.

“Yes,” you say flatly, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

“Cool.” He nods, completely unbothered. “Give me your number so we can figure this project out.”

The request is simple, but your brain struggles to process it. For a moment, you consider asking if he’s serious—if he really doesn’t recognize you—but you stop yourself. What’s the point?

Wordlessly, you pull out your phone, avoiding his gaze as you hand it over. His fingers brush against yours briefly as he takes it, and even that small contact sends a jolt through you.

Sukuna types in his number, then hands the phone back. “There. Just text me or whatever.”

“Okay,” you manage, still feeling like you’re caught in some bizarre dream.

“Thanks.” He slings his bag over his shoulder again, turning toward the door. “See you around or something.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

The interaction lasts less than a minute, but it leaves your pulse racing like you’ve run a marathon. You glance down at your phone, where his name now sits in your contacts list, and something twists in your chest.

You tell yourself it’s just nerves, nothing more. He’s just your project partner.

But deep down, you know that’s a lie.

Sukuna stepped out of the classroom, his expression as unreadable as ever. The hall buzzed with activity, students heading to their next classes or hanging out by the lockers. His eyes landed on his teammates near the far end of the hallway, bickering as usual. He sighed, making his way over, already sensing trouble brewing.

He reached his locker, tossing his duffle bag inside, and glanced sideways at the chaos unfolding next to him. Nanami stood stiffly, his arms crossed like a parent scolding a child, while Gojo leaned casually against a locker, a picture of indifference.

“I’m telling you, Gojo,” Nanami says, his tone tight with frustration, “you need to step up and actually contribute this time. I’m not doing the entire project alone again.”

Gojo leans casually against the lockers, sipping a drink with an infuriating grin. “Relax, Nanami. I bring more to the table than you think.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Nanami snaps.

“Uh…” Gojo says as he thinks.

Nanami glares. “How about actual work?”

Nanami’s glare darkened, but before he could retort, Gojo glanced at his watch and straightened. “Oh, shoot! Gotta go! My Spanish exam starts in five minutes.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “You studied for it, right?”

“Si,” Gojo said confidently, giving him a thumbs-up.

Nanami sighed. “¿Eres idiota?”

Gojo paused, tilting his head in confusion. “Uh… biblioteca?”

Nanami groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as Sukuna chuckled under his breath. Gojo, completely unbothered, threw up a peace sign and sauntered down the hall, leaving chaos in his wake.

“God help him,” Nanami muttered, shaking his head.

Sukuna smirked. “What’s he even doing in Spanish class?”

“Who knows?” Nanami replied.

The two stood in silence for a moment before Nanami turned to Sukuna, his usual frown softening slightly. “So, who’d you get paired with for the project?”

“The nerd,” Sukuna said flatly, rummaging through his locker.

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “Y/L/N?”

Sukuna glanced at him, closing the locker door. “Yeah. You know her?”

Nanami stared at him like he’d asked if water was wet. “Seriously? She’s been in our classes since middle school.”

Sukuna shrugged, unbothered. “Don’t remember.”

Nanami shook his head. “Of course, you don’t.”

Sukuna leaned back against the lockers, arms crossed. “What’s the deal with her? She some kind of overachiever or something?”

Nanami rolled his eyes. “That’s an understatement. She’s the reason the grading curve exists. You’re lucky to have her as a partner. She’s a workhorse. Unlike me, who’s stuck with…” He grimaced. “…someone who thinks ‘Google Docs’ is a streaming service.”

Sukuna chuckled. “Tough break.”

“Tell me about it.” Nanami smirked faintly before glancing at Sukuna. “You wanna switch?”

Before Sukuna could respond, a voice cut in, sharp and amused. “Switch? Nah, Sukuna’s not switching.”

The two turned to see Mahito sauntering up, his signature grin plastered on his face. Behind him was Jogo, his presence as calm and collected as Mahito’s was chaotic.

Mahito leaned lazily against the lockers, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Sukuna doesn’t need to switch. He’s got a system, right?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “What system?”

“You know,” Mahito said, smirking wider. “Your whole thing. Flirt with your group partner, flash that charming smile, get into her pants, and voilà—she does all the work for you.”

Nanami sighed heavily, his disapproval radiating off him. “Doubt is working with this one.”

Mahito turned to him, mock surprise on his face. “Why not? It’s worked on every other girl.”

“Because she’s different,” Nanami replied simply.

“Different?” Sukuna repeated, his voice sharp with irritation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nanami met his gaze steadily. “It means she actually takes her work seriously. She’s strict, focused, and won’t put up with your nonsense. And, quite frankly, you’re not on the same level… socially.”

The words hit like a bomb.

“Damn, Nanami!” Mahito howled, clutching his stomach. “Straight for the throat!”

Jogo chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

“Not on the same level?” one of the other guys echoed mockingly.

“Different social levels! Down bad, Sukuna!”

“Boo! Sukuna, you’re slipping!”

Sukuna clenched his jaw, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. His glare swept over the group, but Mahito wasn’t done yet.

“You know what?” Mahito said, his grin turning cruel. “I bet you won’t even make it through the project without her tearing you a new one. Forget hooking up with her. She’s out of your league.”

Jogo smirked, arms crossed. “I’ll take that bet. $100 says he can’t.”

The hallway erupted in laughter and jeers as Sukuna’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Shut up,” he snapped, slamming his locker shut with a little more force than necessary.

Jogo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s the matter, Sukuna? Afraid you can’t pull it off?”

Sukuna turned to him, his smirk dark and sharp. “Fine. You’re on. But when I win, I don’t want excuses.”

Nanami groaned audibly. “This is a terrible idea.”

“An amazing idea,” Mahito corrected, grinning from ear to ear.

As Mahito finished his jab, his laughter echoing in the hallway, the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the noise. The group turned as one to see Geto standing there, his imposing figure leaning casually against the wall. His dark eyes swept over them, calm yet commanding.

“What’s going on?” Geto asked, his tone even but edged with authority. His confusion was evident, though his calm demeanor gave nothing away.

The air shifted immediately. The teasing and laughter died down as everyone averted their gaze, falling into an awkward silence. No one dared to speak up, suddenly reminded of their captain’s presence.

Nanami, who seemed completely over the entire ordeal, sighed heavily. “They’re children,” he said flatly, brushing past Geto without so much as a second glance. “I have better things to do.” With that, he strode off toward his next class, leaving the rest of the group frozen.

Geto tilted his head slightly, watching Nanami’s retreating figure before turning his attention back to the remaining guys.

Mahito gave a half-hearted shrug, but even he didn’t have the nerve to add anything under Geto’s scrutiny.

Geto straightened up and addressed the group. “Practice is at 7 p.m. sharp. No excuses. Don’t make me hunt any of you down.” His gaze lingered on Mahito and a couple of others, making them shuffle uncomfortably.

Finally, his attention landed squarely on Sukuna. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he stepped closer, his presence radiating authority. “And you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “don’t be late. Last time was strike one. You’re not getting a strike two.”

He didn’t wait for Sukuna to respond, deliberately brushing his shoulder against Sukuna’s as he passed by.

Sukuna stood still for a moment, his jaw tightening as he watched Geto walk away. The guys around him stayed quiet, their eyes darting between Sukuna and the captain. Sukuna could feel the tension lingering in the air, but he refused to let it show.

“Who does he think he is?” Sukuna muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Mahito smirked, but the others stayed silent, knowing better than to stoke Sukuna’s temper further.

Sukuna’s fingers curled into fists for a moment before he relaxed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He couldn’t wait for the day he became captain—when he’d finally put Geto in his place.

“Practice at seven,” Geto’s voice echoed from down the hall, as if to punctuate the moment.

Sukuna scoffed, slamming his locker a clang.

[kentobb]

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ The Bet ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’re the shy college nerd; Sukuna Ryomen is the campus heartthrob. His bet? To hook up with you. But what starts as a game takes a turn when Sukuna begins to fall for you, complicating everything—including the feelings of his best friend, Gojo Satoru, who’s secretly loved you for years.

One bet. Two hearts. And a love that could break them all.

₊✩‧₊ Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Satoru Gojo ₊✩‧₊

College AU

Chapter 01 Chapter 09 Chapter 17 Chapter 24

Chapter 02 Chapter 10 Chapter 18 Chapter 25

Chapter 03 Chapter 11 Chapter 19 Chapter 26

Chapter 04 Chapter 12 Chapter 20 Chapter 27

Chapter 05 Chapter 13 Chapter 21 Chapter 28

Chapter 06 Chapter 14 Chapter 22 Chapter 29

Chapter 07 Chapter 15 Chapter 23 Chapter 30

Chapter 08 Chapter 16 Chapter 24 Chapter 31

[kentobb]

hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

chapter 24 < chapter 25 (here)

chapter 25

[ 4 years later…]

Four years had passed, and as the sun began to set on this special day, you and Higuruma were dressed to perfection, preparing for an occasion that would mark the start of something beautiful. The soft glow of the setting sunlight filtered through the window, catching the subtle shine of your elegant dress and Higuruma’s perfectly tailored suit.

Higuruma stood in front of the mirror, his tie slightly askew as he adjusted it with a bit of difficulty. You walked over to him, gently taking hold of the tie and fixing it with delicate care. As your fingers moved, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. His usual cold demeanor had softened over the years, but today, as you stood before him, his eyes shone with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

He caught your gaze in the mirror, his eyes filled with admiration, love, and a touch of wonder. You giggled softly at the way he looked at you, feeling the familiar rush of love. The emotions between you two had only deepened since you first met.

“You look stunning,” he murmured, his voice full of adoration.

You smiled, reaching up to caress his cheek, your wedding ring—a reminder of the promises you made to each other—gently brushing against his skin. The cold metal felt like a token of the warmth you both shared.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a deep, loving kiss. The kiss was soft but filled with a passion that never seemed to fade, and when you finally pulled back, your giggles filled the air.

“Come on,” you said, pulling back slightly, “We don’t want to be late to the wedding.”

Higuruma smirked, clearly not wanting to stop the moment. He kissed your neck, and his actions made it clear that his intentions were shifting.

You chuckled, pulling away with a wink, “I’ll finish getting Amanai ready, and then we can have all the time we need later.”

Higuruma reluctantly let go, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes stayed as he followed you down the hall towards your daughter’s room.

As you reached Amanai’s door, you both smiled at the sound of her small giggles echoing through the room. She was on the floor, playing with her toys, completely absorbed in her little world. Higuruma’s heart melted every time he saw her—his little girl, his pride and joy.

“Amanai!” he called softly, crouching down to her level.

The little girl’s head perked up at the sound of her daddy’s voice. With her tiny feet padding against the floor, she eagerly ran to him, her arms outstretched.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she squealed, her face lighting up with pure happiness.

Higuruma scooped her up into his arms with a gentle strength, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “We don’t want to be late to Uncle Geto and Uncle Gojo’s wedding, sweetheart,” he said with a warm chuckle, his voice full of affection for his daughter.

Amanai giggled, her little hands resting on her father’s shoulders. “Uncle Gojo! Uncle Geto!” she repeated excitedly, already thinking about the fun of the wedding. It was clear that she, like her parents, was looking forward to the day.

You smiled as you watched the two of them, your heart swelling with love. It was moments like these, when you saw Higuruma with Amanai, that you realized just how much your life had changed for the better. The man who had once been cold and distant was now a loving, devoted father, and you couldn’t imagine a more perfect family.

You reached over, carefully parting her hair to style it, your movements soft and gentle as she wiggled a bit in Higuruma’s arms.

Once her hair was finished, Higuruma placed her back on the floor, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he straightened up. “You’re all ready for the wedding now,” he said with a grin, his voice full of pride.

Amanai giggled again, twirling around in her little dress. “I look pretty!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy as she caught her reflection in the mirror.

“You always look pretty, sweetheart,” you said, walking over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Higuruma smiled softly, his gaze filled with pride as he watched his daughter. He looked at you, a quiet affection in his eyes. “Our little girl is growing up so fast.”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the thought. “She’s perfect,” you whispered, the words full of love.

As you all made your way toward the door, Higuruma took your hand in his, his fingers intertwining with yours. Amanai, now standing confidently in her dress, held on to her father’s hand, ready to go to the wedding. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for this life you had built together—filled with love, laughter, and the promise of more memories to come.

With a final smile, Higuruma leaned down to kiss you, soft and slow, his hands resting gently on your waist. “Let’s go,” he whispered, his voice full of warmth.

As you and Higuruma arrived at the wedding venue, the atmosphere was filled with a sense of elegance and excitement. The soft glow of the chandeliers illuminated the room, casting a warm, golden light on the guests who were seated in anticipation. Rows of carefully arranged chairs lined the space, and delicate floral arrangements adorned every corner, setting the stage for the beautiful ceremony that was about to take place.

Amanai, dressed in an adorable little dress that mirrored the elegance of the day, was led by Utahime toward the front of the room, holding a small basket filled with delicate flower petals. As the “flower girl,” Amanai’s task was simple, yet so significant—her innocent, joyful presence made the moment even more magical.

You and Higuruma made your way to your seats, where you sat side by side, your heart fluttering with excitement and love. Higuruma, ever so attentive, held your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as he leaned over to kiss your cheek. His love for you was as clear as the gentle touch he gave you in that quiet moment.

As you both looked around, you noticed Amanai, excitedly talking to Utahime. Her words were a mixture of gibberish and adorable, childlike excitement, and Utahime, with her usual flair, pretended to understand every word, nodding along with the utmost seriousness. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the scene.

Higuruma leaned closer, his lips brushing near your ear, his voice low and filled with a hint of mischief. “Giving Amanai a sibling wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned to him, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “We could discuss that tonight,” you replied, your voice light with affection. Higuruma chuckled softly, his fingers caressing your hand gently as he leaned back, watching the ceremony unfold with a satisfied look on his face.

The room grew quiet, the soft notes of a delicate melody filling the air as the guests shifted their attention to the door. All eyes were on the entrance, where Amanai was making her way down the aisle, her tiny feet skipping with every step as she sprinkled flower petals along the path. The soft petals danced in the air, adding a layer of innocence to the atmosphere.

Higuruma’s eyes softened as he watched his little girl perform her role with such joy. There was something about seeing Amanai so happy, so full of life, that made his heart swell with pride. The music swelled with the moment, and as she reached the front, she carefully set her basket down beside Utahime, her face lighting up with a proud smile. She was so eager to be a part of this special day, and it was a sight that made your heart skip a beat.

Once Amanai had settled beside Utahime, the focus of the room shifted to the entrance once more, as the groom and his best friend made their way down the aisle. Geto and Gojo appeared, hand in hand, as everyone rose to their feet, their gazes filled with admiration and joy. The room seemed to hold its breath as they walked, both men standing tall and proud, but there was an undeniable tenderness in their eyes as they looked at one another.

Higuruma’s gaze softened as he watched his friends. He was genuinely happy for them—these were two men who had stood by him through so much, and to see them walking toward this new chapter of their lives, hand in hand, made his heart swell with pride. He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving the couple.

You looked up at him, your own heart overflowing with warmth as you smiled. “They’re finally here,” you whispered, leaning into him.

Higuruma nodded, his smile softening as he made eye contact with Nanami, who was sitting a few rows away. Nanami gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment between old friends, and Higuruma waved back at him. It was a small moment, but one that spoke volumes about their bond.

Geto and Gojo reached the altar, where the officiant stood, ready to begin the ceremony. The guests sat back down, and a hush fell over the room, the anticipation thick in the air.

The officiant, a gentle yet firm presence, began to speak. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of two wonderful individuals—Geto and Gojo. Today, they stand before us to commit to one another, to share their lives, their love, and their futures. Marriage is not just a promise; it’s a partnership, a foundation built on love, trust, and respect. It is a journey of growth and discovery, of joy and challenges.

“Geto, Gojo, do you take one another as your lawfully wedded partner, to love and cherish, to support and uphold, in good times and bad, for as long as you both shall live?”

Geto, with a calm and steady voice, answered, “Yes.”

Gojo, always the one to bring a little humor into every moment, grinned widely before replying with his own, “Yes.”

The officiant smiled warmly at them. “Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss the bride.”

Gojo wasted no time, pulling Geto into a kiss, soft and sweet, yet full of emotion. It was a kiss that held the weight of years of friendship, of shared experiences, and of a future now intertwined. The guests erupted into applause, their joy filling the room as they celebrated this beautiful moment. Higuruma, his heart swelling with happiness, clapped along with the rest, a proud smile on his face as he watched his friends begin this new chapter together.

You squeezed his hand again, your heart full as you whispered, “They’re perfect for each other.”

Higuruma nodded, his eyes never leaving the newlyweds. “They are,” he said quietly. And in that moment, as the cheers and laughter filled the air, Higuruma realized that everything had led to this. A beautiful day, a beautiful love, and the promise of even more happiness to come.

The drive home was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the car engine.

Higuruma's hand rested gently on your thigh as you sat beside him, looking out the window at the passing streets. But your eyes occasionally shifted to the backseat, where Amanai slept peacefully, her small form curled up in the blanket you had tucked around her. You couldn't help but giggle at how adorable she looked, her little face relaxed and innocent as she dreamt.

Higuruma glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips, his hand giving your thigh a reassuring squeeze. "She looks so peaceful," he whispered, his voice calm but full of warmth.

You nodded, still smiling at your daughter in the backseat. "She does. She's such a good sleeper."

As you arrived home, Higuruma carefully unbuckled his seatbelt, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb Amanai's slumber. He gently lifted her from the car, cradling her in his arms like the precious little one she was. His steps were light as he made his way to her room, a soft, loving smile on his face as he placed her carefully onto her bed. He kissed her forehead, the tenderness in his touch unmistakable, before quietly closing the door behind him.

You had already gone inside, your soft footsteps echoing in the hallway as you made your way to the bedroom. You were putting on your nightgown, the fabric flowing smoothly over your body, your movements graceful in the dim light of the room.

Higuruma stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. His eyes caught you in the act, and a warmth spread through his chest as he watched you. He crossed the room in a few steps, his presence enveloping you as his arms wrapped around you from behind. His lips brushed against your neck, soft and lingering, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I love you," he whispered softly against your skin, his breath warm and intimate. You leaned into him, your body naturally melting into his embrace.

Turning around, you faced him, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, tender, and full of love. The world outside seemed to fade away as you lost yourselves in each other. His hands caressed your body, gentle and eager at the same time, as you slowly began to pull at your nightgown, inching it down your body.

The air between you grew thick with desire, and in one fluid motion, you pushed him gently onto the bed, your eyes locking with his. There was a hunger in his gaze, mixed with admiration and a love so deep, it almost overwhelmed you. His lips parted as he looked up at you, waiting, wanting, and yet, always respecting the love you shared.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your heartbeats, a quiet understanding between the two of you as you both embraced the moment, lost in each other's presence.

To all our lovelies! <3

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for reading and loving our series. Whether you’ve been here since the first chapter or just stumbled across our stories, your support means the absolute world to us. Seeing your comments, tags, and reactions brings so much joy and inspires us to keep creating.

You’ve turned our little ideas into something so much more special, and we couldn’t have done it without you. Here’s to many more stories, laughs, and moments to share together. You’re the real MVPs, and we adore you endlessly. 💕

With all our love,

A & D

[kentobb]

hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

chapter 23 > chapter 25 (final)

chapter 24

The waiting room is quiet, save for the soft rustling of paper as Higuruma sits beside you. His demeanor is calm and composed, though his grip on your hand is just slightly firmer than usual. He’s always been professional and composed, but there’s a subtle edge to his calmness today—an undercurrent of nerves, carefully masked by his usual restraint.

“Mr. Higuruma, Ms. Y/L/N, the doctor will see you now,” the nurse announces as she enters, and you both stand in sync. Higuruma’s posture is impeccable as always, shoulders squared, hands at his sides.

You walk into the examination room, the air calm but heavy with anticipation. The doctor, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile, greets you both, and Higuruma immediately offers a polite nod, his expression unreadable.

“Good morning,” she begins. “We’re just going to do a quick sonogram today to check on the baby’s development.”

“Understood,” Higuruma responds, his voice professional, steady.

You sit on the examination table, and Higuruma remains standing beside you, not sitting down, his presence as calm as ever, but his eyes follow every movement of the doctor with a quiet intensity.

The doctor applies the cool gel to your abdomen, and Higuruma’s gaze sharpens, his eyes fixed on you and the procedure. He doesn’t show it outwardly, but you can tell he’s tense. The doctor moves the ultrasound wand over your stomach, and the screen flickers to life, revealing the tiny shape of your baby.

“There we go,” the doctor says, her voice warm. “There’s your baby. Five weeks along.”

Higuruma watches the screen closely, his jaw tightening ever so slightly, but his voice remains calm as he responds, “Everything appears normal?” His tone is polite but precise, an obvious sign that his mind is working through the details.

“Yes, the heartbeat is strong. Development is exactly where we would expect it to be at this stage.” The doctor points to the screen where the baby’s tiny flickering heartbeat is visible. “It’s all looking great so far.”

Higuruma nods once, the brief flicker of relief in his eyes quickly masked. His professional demeanor returns as he takes a half-step back, though his attention never wavers from the doctor. “And what are the next steps? Is there anything specific we should be doing or monitoring?”

The doctor continues to take measurements, moving the wand gently over your stomach. “At this stage, there’s not much to worry about. Just maintain a healthy lifestyle—good diet, enough rest, and avoid certain foods. We’ll check in again in a few weeks.”

Higuruma listens intently, nodding. “Understood. And is there anything that should raise concern at this point?” he asks, his voice still measured, but his focus unyielding.

“Nothing to worry about yet,” the doctor assures him. “At five weeks, this is typical. You’re doing everything right.”

Higuruma nods again, his mind clearly working, analyzing the information. He watches the screen, where the image of the baby continues to develop as the doctor moves the wand. “And when can we determine the sex of the baby?” he asks, not missing a beat.

The doctor smiles politely at his question. “At this stage, it’s a little too early to accurately determine the baby’s sex. Typically, we do that around 12 weeks, when we can get a clearer view.”

Higuruma’s expression remains composed, but there’s a brief pause before he responds, almost as if he were weighing the information. “I see.” His tone is neutral, but you notice a subtle tension in his jaw. “And when will we be able to confirm if there are any potential complications?”

The doctor reassures him again, her tone gentle. “Everything looks healthy right now. There’s nothing that indicates any complications at this stage. But as we progress, we’ll keep monitoring. Right now, it’s all about making sure the baby stays healthy.”

You feel Higuruma’s hand tighten around yours, but only for a moment before he relaxes again, his demeanor as composed as ever. “And the… pregnancy symptoms? The nausea, fatigue—those are to be expected, I assume?”

The doctor chuckles lightly. “Yes, very normal for this stage of pregnancy. It’s all part of the process. Just make sure she’s getting plenty of rest, and the nausea will likely pass after a few weeks.”

Higuruma nods slowly, his concern for you evident but hidden beneath his professional mask. “Thank you, doctor. Is there anything else we need to know at this point?”

“Not at the moment,” the doctor says. “We’ll have another check-up in a few weeks. But please don’t hesitate to call if you have any concerns before then.”

Higuruma stands straighter, his posture impeccable as always, and gives a small nod. “I appreciate it, doctor.”

After a moment, the doctor finishes the exam, wiping the gel from your stomach and taking a step back. “Everything is progressing well. I’ll see you both in a few weeks. If anything changes or you need advice before then, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

As the doctor leaves, Higuruma takes a quiet breath, though his expression remains steady. He looks at you for the first time since the sonogram, and there’s a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Everything is fine,” he says, his voice quiet but reassuring. “You’re doing well.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words. “Thank you for being here,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

Higuruma nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Of course. I’m here for you. Always.”

Higuruma steps into his office, holding a small folder with the sonogram photo tucked inside. Gojo and Nanami are already there, seated at the table, papers scattered around them as they talk shop.

Higuruma walks up to the table and sets the folder down, opening it to reveal the sonogram. He smiles as he looks at the image, before turning to Gojo and Nanami with a proud look. “I’ve got something to show you two,” he says, his voice a little lighter than usual.

Gojo squints at the photo before lifting his sunglasses, noticing the sonogram. “Oh, what’s this?” He leans in closer, immediately curious.

Higuruma’s smile widens as he says, “That’s my little princess. She’s growing up fast.”

Gojo blinks a few times, eyes still adjusting. “Wait, wait—that’s your little princess?” He points at the screen. “That thing’s the size of a… a peanut!”

Higuruma chuckles softly. “Actually, it’s about the size of a sunflower seed right now.”

Gojo’s eyes go wide in shock. “That fucking small?!” His voice rises with disbelief. “Man, how do you even know that?! Did the doctor use a magnifying glass to see it?”

Nanami, who’s been quietly watching the back-and-forth, smirks. “It’s probably one of those ‘baby size charts,’ you know, with comparisons to fruits and vegetables.”

Higuruma, now more relaxed, pulls out a laminated chart from the folder. “Exactly. I found this comparison—it shows the size of the baby compared to fruits and vegetables as it grows.” He flips the page, revealing a colorful chart.

Gojo leans in, grinning, and immediately points at the chart. “Alright, alright, I gotta see this. So, what’s the baby going to be next week? A blueberry? An avocado?” He snickers at the thought.

Higuruma laughs, but his smile softens as he flips to the next part of the chart. “No, it says next week the baby will be the size of a raspberry. And by 12 weeks, it’ll be about the size of a lime.”

Gojo’s eyes go wide again, clearly amused. “A lime?! Damn, it’s already getting bigger!”

Nanami raises an eyebrow, then smirks. “You’re really invested in this, huh?”

Gojo grins and slams his hands on the table. “I’m invested because this is some serious shit. You’re telling me a baby is going to start off as the size of a sunflower seed and then—what?—by the end, it’s gonna be the size of a damn watermelon?”

Higuruma nods. “Yes, according to this chart, by 40 weeks, the baby will be the size of a watermelon.”

Gojo’s eyes widen again, his mouth hanging open in mock horror. “Forty weeks?! That’s a whole ass watermelon! What kind of watermelon are we talking about here, Higuruma? Walmart size or Costco size?” He looks at Nanami for validation, as if this is the most important question of the day.

Nanami, deadpan as ever, looks up from the paperwork and responds flatly, “Does it really matter?”

“OF COURSE IT MATTERS!” Gojo exclaims, leaning back dramatically. “Walmart watermelons are small as hell. Costco watermelons? Now that’s a whole other story.” He waves his hand as if demonstrating the sheer size of a Costco watermelon, completely invested in the conversation.

Nanami chuckles quietly under his breath. “So, you’re really worried about the size of watermelons now?” He shakes his head, unable to suppress a grin.

Higuruma watches the two with a small smile on his face, shaking his head at their antics. “I’m just happy that everything is progressing well, no matter the size. But yeah, I can’t help but feel proud of how fast she’s growing.”

Gojo nods, his tone suddenly more sincere. “Hey, man, you’re gonna be a great dad. You’ve got this.” He throws a quick thumbs-up to Higuruma.

Nanami chimes in with a slight smirk, “And if the baby’s going to be as big as a watermelon, you’d better start getting used to carrying it around.”

Higuruma chuckles, clearly relieved to have the support of his friends. “I’ll handle it. The real question is… how much advice should I start taking from Gojo about parenting?”

Gojo laughs loudly. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. If you get a Costco-sized watermelon of a kid, you’ll need all the help you can get.” He throws his arms wide, as if preparing to embrace the chaos.

Higuruma shakes his head, amused. “Right. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

The investigation team steps into the room, urgency in their expressions. Higuruma, Gojo, and Nanami pause what they’re doing and look up, sensing the gravity of the situation.

“What’s the matter?” Higuruma asks, his voice calm and professional as always.

One of the investigators, his face tense, steps forward, holding a small device. “You need to see this.”

Higuruma nods, and Gojo glances at the device, already expecting something significant. “Let’s see it.”

The investigator plugs the device into the computer, and a video begins to play. It’s from a security camera on an empty street, and soon, a figure appears on the footage, standing in the distance. It’s unmistakably Sukuna, wearing a dark hat and sunglasses, trying to remain inconspicuous.

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “Looks like Sukuna’s laying low. Typical.”

Higuruma leans forward, scrutinizing the footage carefully. “It’s too controlled, too calculated. He’s been planning his moves for a while.”

The investigator doesn’t pause the footage. “Wait until you see who picks him up.”

The tension in the room is palpable. The screen shifts, showing a black, tinted-window car slowly pulling up beside Sukuna. It comes to a stop, and the door opens, revealing none other than Uraume.

Sukuna, ever the calculated figure, moves toward the car with confidence. He steps inside the door, his head tilting slightly as Uraume steps out of the vehicle. The moment she steps out, the two lock eyes, and to the surprise of everyone in the room, they kiss. It’s not just any kiss; it’s a passionate, desperate kiss as if they’ve been waiting for this moment. The kiss is deep, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes of shared history, unspoken love, and betrayal.

The room falls silent as the others process what they’ve just seen.

“… Uraume?” Gojo says, his voice thick with disbelief. “What the hell is going on?”

Nanami watches the video, his brow furrowed in confusion. “She was the one who turned him in… what’s she doing with him?”

The investigator continues the video. Sukuna opens the back door of the car, revealing a small child sitting in the backseat—Yuuji, barely old enough to understand the situation. Sukuna bends down, placing a gentle kiss on Yuuji’s forehead.

Higuruma’s face tightens as he watches. “What am I seeing?”

Gojo, still shocked, leans forward. “Uraume was the rat and he… forgave her?”

The video continues as Sukuna closes the door gently after the kiss and shuts the car. He gets into the driver’s seat, his movements calm and collected. Uraume slides into the passenger seat, and without a word, the two share another kiss. It’s softer this time, but no less intense. Then, the car slowly begins to drive off into the night.

“Well” Nanami says, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. “This is…complicated.”

Gojo clenches his fists, his jaw set. “Am I supposed to write a love story on this federal reports as to why my client is a fugitive?”

“Have you traced the car?” Hiruguma asks calmly.

The investigator looks up, his face grim. “We’ve already traced it. It was found about 45 miles away, abandoned. No signs of them. The car’s empty.”

Higuruma sat at his desk, staring at the file in front of him. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on his mind. Sukuna had done the unthinkable—escaped, evaded capture, and slipped through their fingers. His mind replayed the footage, the kiss between Sukuna and Uraume, the betrayal that had sent shockwaves through the investigation. The pieces finally clicked together. Sukuna had escaped, not just physically, but to start a new life. It was almost too poetic.

Higuruma let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “Sukuna… you lucky bastard.” He couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and frustration. Despite everything, the man had managed to escape and disappear, leaving only a trail of unanswered questions.

With a deep breath, Higuruma closed the file with a finality that echoed through the room. The investigation was over, the case closed. He couldn’t chase shadows any longer. The government would have to pick up the pieces now.

He stood up, turning to face the window, his mind still racing. “This is over,” he muttered to himself, his voice cold, professional, but tinged with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t satisfaction. It was just the end.

Higuruma took one last look at the file before archiving it away, leaving Sukuna’s case behind. The pursuit was done, the trail cold. But somewhere out there, Sukuna was still living his life.

Higuruma opened the door to his home, a sense of calm washing over him as the familiar scent of dinner wafted through the air. He leaned against the frame for a moment, taking in the sight of you standing in the kitchen, your back turned as you stirred something on the stove. The soft hum of the kitchen and the warm glow of the lights around you made the moment feel peaceful, and for the first time in a while, Higuruma felt like he could finally breathe.

“I’m home,” he called softly, his voice carrying through the quiet.

Before he could even take another step, you turned around, your face lighting up the moment your eyes met his. Without a second of hesitation, you rushed toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. His arms instinctively found their way around your waist, pulling you close as his lips moved in sync with yours. It was a kiss full of love and longing, one that spoke volumes without the need for words.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a shared smile playing on your lips. Higuruma held you for a moment longer, his fingers gently brushing the side of your face, his expression soft and tender.

“You make me happy,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze moved from your eyes down to where your hand rested on your stomach, the small bump still barely noticeable. His fingers lightly brushed over it, a protective warmth in his touch as he caressed the place where his child would soon grow.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling at his words. “I love you,” you replied, the truth of it clear in your eyes. Every part of you felt so full in this moment, as if the world outside had melted away, leaving just the two of you.

Higuruma’s smile deepened, his eyes softening with affection. “I love you,” he said, his words as sincere and unwavering as the love he held for you.

You kissed him again, this time slower, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours, of being wrapped up in his warmth. The world felt perfect in his arms—like nothing could touch you, nothing could take away the joy that came from simply being together. Time stood still in that kiss, and in the softness of the moment, everything felt right.

As you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, the two of you standing there in the quiet of the kitchen, the evening stretching out before you, full of promise and love.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” you murmured, your heart full.

Higuruma didn’t need to say anything more. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as you both stood there in the embrace, knowing that whatever came next, you would face it together.

[kentobb]

hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

chapter 22 > chapter 24

chapter 23

Higuruma and Nanami walk into the office, the usual hustle and bustle of the legal world surrounding them. The buzz of phones ringing and papers shuffling fills the room, but there’s an added layer of tension today. Nanami, ever the professional, is already on a roll, detailing the chaos caused by Sukuna’s escape. Higuruma follows him towards their desks, his tired eyes scanning the piles of paperwork that seem to multiply by the minute.

“Honestly, Higuruma,” Nanami says, rubbing his temples, “the press is all over us. Every time I step out of my office, someone’s shoving a mic in my face, asking about Sukuna’s escape. They think we’re supposed to have all the answers, like we’re some kind of magic detectives.”

Higuruma lets out a tired sigh, sitting down and shuffling through some legal documents. “It’s not just the press. The whole federal government is breathing down our necks. And don’t even get me started on the paperwork. The amount of documentation we need to go through just to start an investigation is ridiculous.”

Nanami shoots him a look of quiet understanding. “I thought I was done with the chaos when I left the field. But now… well, now I feel like I’ve just stepped back into it, only with a desk and more forms.”

Higuruma raises an eyebrow, half-smiling despite the stress. “You didn’t think the legal world would be any easier, did you?”

Before Nanami can respond, the door to their office swings open, and in walks Gojo, looking unbothered as ever despite the case on his shoulder. He grins at the sight of his colleagues, clearly in high spirits despite the weight of the situation.

“Well, well,” Gojo says, adjusting his sunglasses dramatically as if he’s walking into a party instead of a law office. “What’s up, gentlemen? You look like you’ve been through a war zone.”

Higuruma shakes his head, cracking a smile at the absurdity of Gojo’s casual attitude. “Sukuna escaped from a federal facility, Gojo. How does it look? We’re buried in paperwork and trying to figure out how to make sense of all this.”

Gojo waves a hand dismissively, taking a seat on the edge of Higuruma’s desk. “Yeah, yeah, I heard. You think he’s playing chess, but really, he’s just making everyone else play checkers. He probably pulled off the most dramatic escape in history just to get some fresh air. I bet he’s at a beach somewhere, sipping on a margarita and laughing at all of us.”

Nanami can’t help but chuckle at Gojo’s nonchalant approach, despite the situation. “That wouldn’t surprise me. But I think we’re going to need more than a good joke to track him down.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, throwing a glance at the TV in the corner of the office. The news is flashing updates about Sukuna’s escape, showing footage of the chaos from the night before—ambulances, reporters, and injured officers. He clicks the remote, turning the volume up.

“See?” Gojo says, watching the report. “They’ve got the story all wrong. They’re making him sound like some mastermind. What’s next, they gonna call him a national treasure? He’s probably hiding out in a hole somewhere, eating snacks and laughing at us all while we scramble to clean up his mess.”

Higuruma shakes his head but can’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “Sukuna might be a problem, but you’re not helping.”

“Of course, I’m helping!” Gojo exclaims. “I’m keeping morale high. What do you think the press is saying right now? They think we’ve lost control. But really, we’re all just part of a big, elaborate joke Sukuna’s playing on us. So, where do we think he’s hiding? If I were him, I’d probably be in some high-end sushi joint, having a feast. Or maybe he’s holed up in a secret lair somewhere, planning his next move. Maybe I should go undercover, act like a random guy at a sushi bar, and—”

Nanami cuts him off, clearly entertained by Gojo’s antics but also needing to bring some seriousness to the situation. “Gojo, please. Focus. We’ve got a job to do. Sukuna is dangerous, and we need to find him. We have our own investigation team out there looking for leads.”

Gojo grins, undeterred by the seriousness of Nanami’s tone. “Don’t worry, Nanami. I’ve got this covered. You guys focus on the paperwork—don’t let it swallow you whole. I’ll handle Sukuna. I’m practically a walking solution.”

Higuruma raises an eyebrow, but there’s a warmth in his smile. “What are you going to do? Use my cyber security team to see the cameras from around the city?”

Gojo laugh loudly we he winks “Of course!”

Nanami looks at the two of them, shaking his head but clearly entertained. “I’ll leave you two to your chaos,” he mutters, heading back to his desk to deal with more paperwork.

The cozy café hums with quiet chatter as you sit with Utahime and Geto, sipping on your coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed espresso lingers in the air, blending with the soft clink of mugs and spoons. You feel a warm sense of comfort as you lean back in your chair, surrounded by friends who are as excited as you are about your big news.

“So,” Utahime starts, grinning widely. “You told Higuruma, huh? How did it go?”

You smile softly, your eyes glowing with happiness. “Yeah, I told him. He was shocked at first, but then… he got all serious and started ordering books about being a dad. Like Dad 101 or something.”

Utahime bursts into laughter. “Oh my gosh, Higuruma’s gonna be such a dad. I can already picture it. Him sitting there with a stack of books, reading about baby sleep schedules and diapering techniques like it’s his job.”

Geto chuckles from across the table, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it. Higuruma, of all people, getting so into the dad thing. He’s gonna be the most organized dad ever, I bet.”

You laugh along, imagining Higuruma, usually so professional and collected, surrounded by baby books, frantically flipping through them.

“I mean,” you continue, “he’s already planning out our future nursery. He wants to make sure the colors are ‘calming’ and ‘neutral.’ It’s… adorable, honestly.”

Utahime leans back in her chair, pretending to be deep in thought. “Well, I’ll be the cool aunt. You know, the one who brings all the fun toys and gives the baby way too much sugar.”

Geto raises an eyebrow, smirking. “You? Cool aunt? I’ll be the cool uncle. You know, the one who teaches the kid how to play video games and takes them to concerts.”

Utahime sticks her tongue out at him, teasing. “Oh, please. The baby’s gonna be begging me for candy, not you for some video games.”

You giggle at the banter between them, feeling so at ease with them around. It’s nice to know that your friends are just as excited about your future as you are.

“I have an appointment tomorrow to check on the baby,” you add, looking down at your cup for a moment. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Utahime beams. “That’s so exciting! Do you have a preference? Boy or girl?”

You think for a second, a soft smile curling on your lips. “I’d love to have a boy. I think it’d be nice to have a little one to teach and watch grow up.”

Utahime nods, thoughtful. “A boy would be cute. But Higuruma—”

You nod, knowing exactly what she’s going to say. “Higuruma wants a girl. He’s convinced that he’d be the perfect girl dad.”

Geto chuckles, looking over at you with a grin. “I can totally see that. Higuruma’s gonna be wrapped around his daughter’s finger, isn’t he?”

You smile warmly, thinking of Higuruma. “Definitely. He’s already saying that he’s going to spoil her and teach her everything he knows about law… and life.”

Utahime laughs, covering her mouth. “Higuruma as a girl dad? That’s going to be adorable. Can you imagine him, all serious, trying to protect her from every little thing?”

“Yeah, he’ll be that dad,” Geto adds, pretending to be dramatic. “The one who inspects every boy who comes to the door and makes them sign a ‘no breaking my daughter’s heart’ agreement.”

You burst into laughter, the image of Higuruma, in his lawyerly way, drafting up a contract for his daughter’s suitors too hilarious to ignore.

“It’s going to be so cute,” you say, your heart full. “But honestly, whether it’s a boy or a girl, I just want them to be healthy. We’re both so excited.”

Utahime reaches across the table, squeezing your hand. “Whatever happens, you’re going to be an amazing mom. And we’ll all be here for you, every step of the way.”

Geto leans back in his chair, a rare, genuine smile on his face. “Yeah, we’ve got you covered. The baby’s gonna have an army of cool relatives…” He looks at Utahime “When I say cool relatives is not you” he sticks his tongue out, which makes Utahime sticks his middle finger at him.

You smile, your heart swelling with gratitude for your friends. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it.”

Higuruma, Nanami, and Gojo sit around the desk, eating Chinese takeout in silence, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional clink of chopsticks. The room is tense but comfortable, a rare moment of calm amidst the chaos of their work. After a few moments, Higuruma, unable to hold it in any longer, clears his throat and speaks up.

“I’ve got something to tell you guys,” he says, his voice unusually serious. Nanami and Gojo look up, both pausing mid-bite. Nanami raises an eyebrow, while Gojo just gives him an expectant look, clearly used to Higuruma’s somber moments.

Higuruma takes a deep breath. “I’m going to be a father. Y/N is pregnant.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence.

Nanami, ever the composed one, blinks slowly, processing the information, before pulling out his wallet. “I’ll be damned,” he mutters, then proceeds to pull out a $20 bill, handing it over to Gojo without a second thought.

Gojo, who’s mid-chew, pauses, his eyes going wide. “Wait—what? No way!” He lets his chopsticks drop into the container, forgetting all about his food. “You’re really telling me you’re about to have a baby? Man, that’s wild!”

Nanami sighs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess I lost the bet, huh?”

Higuruma looks at them both, his expression a mix of relief and anxiety. “Yeah… it’s real. But, uh, I’m kind of freaking out. This is a big deal, you know?”

Gojo, now fully animated, grins widely. “A baby! Dude, this is awesome. Don’t sweat it—babies are like little hamsters. They eat, sleep, poop. How hard can it be?”

Higuruma stares at Gojo, his face deadpan. “Hamsters?”

“Yeah! Totally,” Gojo says confidently, as though it’s the most sensible thing ever. “Babies are practically the same. Except with more crying. But you’ve got this. I believe in you.”

Nanami rolls his eyes, his voice dry. “Don’t listen to Gojo, Higuruma. He’s obviously never changed a diaper in his life.”

Higuruma chuckles despite himself, appreciating the levity. “I’ll try not to.” He pauses, looking down at his food, then back at his friends. “But seriously… I’m scared. What if I mess this up?”

Nanami, his usual calm demeanor never faltering, leans back in his chair. “You’ll figure it out. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Being a dad isn’t about being perfect, it’s about being there. You’ll do fine.”

Gojo nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah! You’ll be fine, buddy. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Just… make sure the baby doesn’t end up like that”—he gestures vaguely, as if the example is somehow obvious—“and you’re golden.”

Higuruma laughs, shaking his head. “I’m glad you guys have so much faith in me.”

Gojo shrugs, still grinning. “Well, I’m just saying, you’re gonna be a pro at it. Now, how’s Y/N doing? You mentioned morning sickness last time. That’s got to be rough.”

Higuruma’s expression softens as he thinks of you. “Yeah… she’s been pretty rough with the morning sickness. She can’t even look at eggs without feeling sick.” He rubs the back of his neck, an expression of concern crossing his face. “I think it’s taking a toll on her.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you’re not loving eggs either, huh?”

Higuruma lets out a small laugh. “I’m staying away from them, too, actually. It’s kind of become a ‘no egg’ house now. I don’t know if she’ll ever look at one the same way again.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, grinning. “Oh, it’s definitely a girl.”

Higuruma looks at him, puzzled. “What?”

Gojo shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Eggs, man. You know it’s a girl when she won’t eat eggs.”

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s… not a real thing, Gojo.”

Gojo waves him off. “Nah, it’s true. Read it on Reddit once. It’s a sign. You mark my words.”

Higuruma stares at Gojo, incredulous. “You’re telling me that eggs are a sign of a girl?”

“Exactly!” Gojo says, not missing a beat. “It’s a universal truth. I’ve read about it!”

“Gojo, please,” Nanami mutters under his breath, but his lips are twitching into a smile. “Don’t listen to him, Higuruma.”

Higuruma, despite himself, chuckles. “Well, whatever it is, I’m just happy.”

Nanami nods in agreement. “That’s the most important thing. But, hey, if it’s a girl, I bet you’ll be a great dad to her.”

Gojo grins. “I’m just saying, the girl will be cute. And spoiled. And probably have you wrapped around her finger the second she’s born.”

Higuruma laughs, rubbing his face. “I’m already nervous about that. We’ll see.”

There’s a brief silence before Higuruma adds, “We’ve got an appointment tomorrow to check on the baby, see how everything’s going.”

Nanami smiles, his voice steady and reassuring. “That’s good. You’ll get to see how things are progressing. I’m sure it’ll all go smoothly.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, his usual grin spreading. “And if it’s a girl, I’ll buy her the cutest clothes ever. Seriously, Higuruma, start saving up for the fancy dresses.”

Higuruma shakes his head with a smile. “You two are impossible.”

You step into the apartment, the door closing softly behind you. A warm, cozy atmosphere greets you, and you find Higuruma sitting on the couch, glasses perched on his nose, deeply engrossed in a parenting book. You can’t help but smile at the sight of him—he looks so serious and focused, but the book he’s holding is clearly not a legal case file.

Your soft giggles escape you, and the sound immediately catches his attention. Higuruma looks up, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. A smile curves on his lips, and he quickly closes the book, setting it aside before getting up to approach you. His arms open wide as if he’s been waiting all day just for this moment.

“Hey, you,” he says softly, pulling you into a gentle, warm embrace. He kisses you on the lips, slow and tender, his hands resting on your back, as if he never wants to let go. He pulls back just enough to gaze at your face, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek. Without breaking his gaze, he lowers himself, pressing a kiss to your belly, which isn’t showing much yet but is already a symbol of the love you share.

You look down at him with amusement, feeling a giggle bubbling up. “What are you doing?” you tease, your voice light with affection.

Higuruma looks up at you with a mischievous grin, his hand resting against your abdomen as he talks to it in a soft, loving tone. “Hello, princess,” he murmurs. “I already can’t wait to meet you. I hope you’re just as excited to meet your old man as I am.”

You laugh softly at his serious tone, your heart swelling at how much love he already has for the baby. But then the curiosity strikes. You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “How do you know it’s a girl?” you ask, teasing him lightly.

He looks up at you with an even wider grin, his eyes sparkling with that familiar playful energy. “It’s obvious,” he says with complete confidence. “Because you hate eggs,” he adds, as though that’s the most logical explanation in the world.

You blink, completely confused, your head tilting slightly as you try to process his words. “The eggs?” you repeat, incredulity in your voice. “What does that even mean? How does not liking eggs tell us if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Higuruma chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s trying to hold back a full laugh. “Gojo read it on Reddit,” he says, offering an innocent shrug, like that explanation should settle the matter. “It’s a thing. It means it’s a girl.”

You stare at him, unsure whether to laugh or be more confused. “Reddit?” you echo, utterly bewildered. But despite your confusion, you can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the whole situation making you feel even more in love with him. “Okay, sure.”

He laughs along with you, his eyes softening as he kisses your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see, huh?” he says, still grinning as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “But I’m happy with whatever we get. As long as it’s ours.”

[kentobb]

hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

chapter 21 > chapter 23

chapter 22

Utahime paced outside Higuruma’s bathroom like a restless bird, her nervous energy filling the quiet room. The faint crinkle of the pharmacy bag on the bed was the only sound accompanying her movements. A pile of pregnancy tests and a few hastily bought Snickers bars sat inside, their presence somehow making the situation feel even more surreal.

Inside the bathroom, you sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the three tests lined up on the counter. Each one carried the weight of an answer you weren’t ready to confront. The seconds dragged, feeling like an eternity, your chest tightening with every tick of the clock.

Utahime, on the other side of the door, was doing her best to keep herself—and you—calm. “Okay,” she began, her voice a little shaky but clearly trying to sound cheerful. “Here’s a joke. Why don’t eggs tell jokes?” She paused dramatically. “Because they might crack up!”

Her laugh echoed through the door, but when no response came, her smile faltered. She tried again. “Alright, tough crowd. What about this one? Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field! Hah?”

Still, silence.

Utahime stopped pacing, her heart sinking as she pressed her forehead against the door. “Hey… you okay in there? Talk to me. I’m going to keep telling bad jokes unless you answer me, and trust me, I have a lot of them!”

Inside, you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. The timer on your phone seemed to be taunting you, each second pulling you closer to the truth you weren’t sure you were ready to face. You gripped the edge of the sink, trying to steady your breathing.

And then it happened. The timer buzzed.

Your hands shook as you reached for the first test, your vision blurring slightly as your eyes focused on the results. Positive. You blinked, moving to the second test. Positive again. Finally, the third. Positive.

You couldn’t move. Your chest felt heavy, the reality of it sinking in all at once.

Outside, Utahime stopped pacing at the sound of the timer. “Well?” she asked hesitantly, leaning closer to the door. “What does it say? Are we buying celebratory chocolate or… more chocolate to cry over?”

Silence.

“Hello? You’re killing me here!” she said, knocking softly. “Come on, I’m about to burst. Just tell me.”

Still no response.

Utahime’s heart began to race as worry took over. She opened the door slowly, her eyes immediately landing on you. You were sitting on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, tears streaming down your face as you stared blankly ahead.

Her gaze shifted to the counter, to the three tests that unmistakably read positive.

“Oh,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Utahime knelt beside you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. You leaned into her embrace, burying your face in her shoulder as you cried. “It’s okay,” she murmured, stroking your hair. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here. We’ll figure this out.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking as you finally spoke. “I-I don’t even know what to do. I’m scared.”

Utahime pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her own filled with tears she was fighting to hold back. “Hey, listen to me. You’re not alone in this. We’ll handle it together. You’re stronger than you think, and I’m not going anywhere. Got it?”

You nodded, sniffling, and she pulled you into another hug. “I mean, come on,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “If anyone’s ready to take on a mini version of you, it’s you. And if they inherit your attitude? Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

A shaky laugh escaped you, and she smiled, squeezing you tighter. “See? We’ve got this.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there on the bathroom floor, holding each other, the weight of the news shared between you. Whatever happened next, you knew Utahime would be by your side, your best friend through it all.

Higuruma returned to the apartment late in the evening, the sound of the door clicking shut signaling his return. The moment he stepped inside, the familiar, soothing scent of dinner lingered in the air—something comforting, something that made the day’s exhaustion start to fade into the background. He set his bag down by the door and, with a sigh that carried the weight of the world, made his way toward the kitchen.

There you were, standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot. The soft glow of the lights bathed you in a warm, gentle light, and for a second, everything felt like it was in perfect harmony. He couldn’t help but smile as he walked up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist. His body pressed against yours, and he buried his face in the nape of your neck, kissing the soft skin there.

You leaned back into him, a soft laugh escaping your lips, the sound like music to his ears. You turned your head to meet his lips in a kiss—sweet, slow, full of everything unsaid. It was a simple, tender gesture, but to Higuruma, it was everything. In that moment, the weight of his long, grueling day seemed to vanish.

“How was your day?” you asked, your voice soft, as if you knew exactly how to cut through the noise of everything he’d been dealing with.

He sighed, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you finish preparing the meal. “Sukuna’s nonsense, as always,” he replied with a tired chuckle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he lives to make things as complicated as possible.”

You giggled at his comment, and for a brief moment, your mind wandered to the times when Sukuna’s teasing would have made you laugh for hours, his chaotic energy filling the room. It was strange how much you missed his jokes—how they somehow made the world seem a little lighter, even in the darkest of times.

But that thought faded quickly, replaced by a heaviness that had settled in your chest over the past few days. The nausea, the dizziness, the exhaustion—it all pointed to something. And it was something you had been trying to ignore, trying to push down, but now, the weight of it felt too much to bear.

You looked at Higuruma, his tired eyes scanning the kitchen. You could see the bags under his eyes, the exhaustion that had settled deep in his bones. He had been through so much lately, and you knew that you couldn’t add to his burden, not now. Not when he needed peace.

The truth, however, was staring you in the face. And every time you thought about it, your heart would race. You didn’t know how to share this with him yet.

Higuruma, ever observant, caught the subtle change. He watched you for a moment, his eyes narrowing with concern. He noticed the shift, the way you looked away for just a second, the way you seemed lost in thought. It didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“What is it?” he asked softly, his voice low but filled with concern. His hand reached out to rest on yours, his fingers brushing gently against your skin, as if trying to ground you.

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m just thinking about something else,” you murmured, brushing it off as if it were nothing. But even as you said it, you knew he could tell it wasn’t.

Higuruma was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving you. He could tell something was wrong, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair, his lips curving into a small smile as he tried to lighten the mood. “Tomorrow, the security team is moving your stuff over from your old apartment. Everything should be settled soon, yeah?”

You nodded, grateful for the change in topic. “Yeah, I’m excited. It’ll be nice to have everything here. It already feels like home.”

The words slipped from your lips without thinking, and for a moment, Higuruma’s gaze softened. He knew what you meant. This place, with all its little imperfections, felt like home because it was with him. And that was enough.

His eyes searched yours, something unreadable passing between you, but then he smiled and squeezed your hand. “It already does, doesn’t it?” he said quietly, and you knew, without a doubt, that he felt the same way.

There was a moment of silence between you both, the kind that spoke volumes without saying a word. He was tired—more than he cared to admit—but the weight of everything felt a little lighter when he was with you.

You sat there with him, the kitchen quiet now except for the soft clinking of silverware. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, but it was comfortable. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. And in that moment, you found peace just by being together.

But beneath the surface, a storm was brewing in your heart. The realization, the fear, and the uncertainty about the pregnancy were all there, waiting for the right moment to surface. You had to tell him. You knew that. But for now, you just wanted to hold on to this moment—this simple, quiet moment of togetherness. Because tomorrow, everything might change.

Higuruma, sensing the shift in the air, stood and walked over to you. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there for just a moment longer than necessary. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into an embrace. You melted into him, closing your eyes as the warmth of his body surrounded you.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice soft, full of promise. “No matter what happens, I’m here. We’ll face it together.”

And in that moment, as you rested in his arms, you knew that, no matter the uncertainty of the future, the two of you would always be there for each other. And that was enough to keep you going.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the curtains. Higuruma stirred from his sleep, the shrill ringing of his phone cutting through the quiet night. He blinked at the clock on the nightstand. It was 2:34 AM. Groggy, he reached for the phone, glancing over at you lying beside him, still deep in sleep. He gently got out of bed, trying not to wake you, and stepped into the other room, answering the call with a soft but professional tone.

“Hello?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep but laced with curiosity.

The voice on the other end was urgent, clipped with the kind of intensity that pulled Higuruma’s mind to full alert.

“Mr. Higuruma?” The voice was calm but carried a weight of something that couldn’t be ignored. “We’re calling from the federal facility where your client, Sukuna, is being held.”

Higuruma’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his client. “What’s going on?” He could already sense something wasn’t right.

“There’s been an incident, sir. Sukuna has escaped.”

Higuruma’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “Escaped? How?” He instinctively looked back toward the bedroom, his eyes flickering over to the figure of you sleeping soundly, unaware of the conversation unfolding.

“We believe it was a planned escape. At least that’s the working theory right now,” the voice continued. “We’ve confirmed that 43 federal officers were injured during the breach. Some critically.” The voice on the line paused before adding, “It’s chaos here. We’ve never seen anything like this.”

Higuruma’s chest tightened. “How is that even possible? How could someone escape from a high-security federal prison?” The disbelief was evident in his voice as he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to process the gravity of the situation. His mind was racing, calculating the implications.

“Mr. Higuruma, we’re still gathering details, but it seems highly coordinated. The team handling his case is already on-site, but we’ll need you to come in. We need to document everything and assess the situation.”

“Of course,” Higuruma said automatically, his professional demeanor kicking in despite the shock. “I’ll be there shortly. Make sure all the documentation is in place.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the voice seemed to soften a little. “I know this is sudden, but we’ll need your assistance in controlling the narrative, too. This could get messy. The press is already starting to get wind of it.”

Higuruma’s mind was reeling. Sukuna, the man he had been defending, the man who had been handed a 190-year sentence, had somehow evaded it all. Higuruma hadn’t expected this. He had prepared himself for every possible outcome but this—this was something else entirely.

He looked at the clock again. Time was slipping away. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Higuruma said, his voice steady, but his mind was churning with the weight of what was unfolding.

The call ended, and as Higuruma hung up, he stood there for a moment, letting the reality of the situation settle in. His heart raced, his thoughts scrambled. Sukuna was a fugitive now. Higuruma had been his lawyer, his defender, and now the man he represented was out in the world, on the run.

For a brief moment, he stood in the quiet of the apartment, trying to gather himself, but the weight of the responsibility—the magnitude of what was happening—seemed almost too much to bear. He had to act quickly. There were so many things that needed to be done. Documenting everything. Contacting Nanami.

Higuruma walked back into the bedroom, careful not to disturb you. He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed Nanami’s number. As it rang, he turned on the small bedside lamp, its soft yellow glow illuminating the room just enough for him to see clearly. His eyes flicked to the trash can beside the bed, where something caught his attention—something that didn’t belong. A receipt. His heart skipped a beat.

Without thinking, Higuruma walked over and picked it up, his eyes scanning the items listed. Snickers bars. A water bottle. A Sprite bottle. And three pregnancy tests.

The words felt like a punch to the gut. He froze. Three pregnancy tests? His mind was suddenly clouded with confusion and panic. You never told him about those. Why hadn’t you told him? His stomach twisted in a knot as he looked at the receipt again, making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. The tests were clearly bought—recently, judging by the date on the receipt. But where were they? His heart started pounding as he glanced back toward the bedroom.

You were still asleep, unaware of his discovery. The unease in his chest grew, his thoughts spiraling as he wondered what this all meant. Could it be possible? His mind raced, trying to put the pieces together. You hadn’t said anything to him about being pregnant. Could this be it? Was this why you had been so off lately? The nausea, the fatigue, the way you had been acting differently these past few days.

The questions swirled in his mind like a storm. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had to focus on Sukuna first. He had to do his job.

Higuruma took a deep breath and quickly turned his attention back to the phone, still holding the receipt in his hand. He didn’t even realize how tightly he was gripping it until his fingers started to ache.

The phone rang once, twice, and then Nanami’s groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

Higuruma cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. “Nanami, we’ve got a serious situation. Sukuna has escaped.”

There was a long pause on the other end before Nanami’s voice came through, even more alert now. “What? How the hell did that happen?”

Higuruma quickly explained the details, his voice cold and professional, trying to mask the flood of emotions crashing inside him. “I need you to come down here and help with the documentation. We’re going to have to handle the narrative carefully. The press is already sniffing around, and this could get messy. We’ll need a coordinated effort.”

Nanami let out a sigh, clearly still processing the shock. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. But we also need to figure out what the hell Sukuna’s planning. If he’s out there now—”

“I know,” Higuruma interrupted. “We need to prepare for everything. But right now, I need you to focus on getting all the paperwork together. I’ll be there soon.”

“Got it,” Nanami replied, his voice sharper now. “I’ll meet you there.”

Higuruma hung up and stood in the room, staring at the trash can once again. His thoughts were a mess—one part of his mind still on Sukuna’s escape, the other swirling with the fear and uncertainty about you. Was this what you had been keeping from him? What if it was true? What would that mean?

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. There was no time to think about that now. He had to focus on the task ahead.

But the gnawing feeling in his chest wouldn’t let up.

Higuruma and Nanami stepped out of the car, the air heavy with tension. The scene before them was chaotic—an overwhelming sight that spoke volumes of the violence that had just unfolded. Ambulances were parked haphazardly, lights flashing in the early morning fog. Federal officers were everywhere, their serious faces hiding the exhaustion of hours spent trying to contain the situation. Firefighters worked tirelessly, dousing a fire that still burned near the back of the facility, the black smoke rising into the sky like a dark omen.

The weight of the situation hit them both at once.

“Sukuna did all this?” Nanami muttered, disbelief clear in his voice. He wasn’t one to show emotion, but the severity of what they were witnessing made even him pause. “This is bigger than we thought.”

Higuruma didn’t respond immediately, his gaze scanning the chaos around them. Was Sukuna buying time all this time? His thoughts spun in confusion and frustration. How had it come to this? How had Sukuna managed to orchestrate such a massive operation right under their noses?

The two men walked side by side, the sound of the press shouting questions and clamoring for any hint of information growing louder as they neared the facility. Journalists swarmed, cameras flashing, eager for any scraps of detail they could feed the growing rumor mill.

The federal officers ushered them through the crowd, keeping the journalists at bay. Higuruma and Nanami were both seasoned enough to ignore the questions that came their way—questions like, “How did Sukuna escape?” and “What do you think his next move will be?” They didn’t have the answers, and even if they did, they weren’t about to share them with the press.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Officers moved briskly, performing their duties with the seriousness of those who knew the weight of the situation. They guided Higuruma and Nanami to a small room—one with stacks of paperwork, buzzing fluorescent lights, and a table already piled high with documents.

“Please fill out these forms,” one officer said, handing them both a stack of paperwork. “We need to account for everything. We’ll need your statements, too.”

Higuruma gave a curt nod, sitting down at the table and beginning to fill out the forms. Nanami did the same, though his brow was furrowed in concentration. They both knew what had just happened—what it meant—but the cold bureaucracy of the situation had to be dealt with first. Forms. Signatures. Statements. The wheels of justice, slow and grinding. It was all part of the process, but it felt hollow in light of what had transpired.

The silence of the room was broken only by the scratch of pens against paper, the occasional cough, and the soft shuffle of papers being moved around.

Once they completed the necessary forms, an officer entered the room, carrying a portable television on a cart. The officers nodded to each other and gestured for Higuruma and Nanami to watch.

“We need you to see the footage,” one of the officers said. “It’s important for your understanding of what went down here.”

Higuruma exchanged a glance with Nanami before they both nodded. The officer clicked a button, and the TV flickered to life.

The footage that appeared on the screen was grainy, the images shaky at first, as if the camera had been hastily set up in a surveillance room. What they saw sent a chill down their spines.

A group of people, all dressed in identical black tactical gear, their faces obscured by masks, moved with military precision. They stormed the facility’s perimeter, swiftly and efficiently overcoming the security measures in place. Explosives went off, creating chaos. Higuruma could hear the distant sounds of gunfire, the popping of bullets cutting through the tense air.

But what caught his attention wasn’t the explosions or the gunfire. It was the figure at the center of the chaos.

Sukuna.

Despite the mayhem around him, Sukuna seemed… unbothered. Calm. It was almost like he was going through the motions of something he had planned for a long time, not the actions of someone trying to escape—more like someone who knew he would be free, no matter the cost. The footage was clear now, and there was no mistaking it. Sukuna wasn’t just a criminal on the run—he was the orchestrator, the mastermind behind the entire operation.

Higuruma’s jaw clenched. He knew those were Sukuna’s people, even though their identities remained hidden behind their masks. The calmness with which Sukuna navigated the chaos—the way he moved, the way he commanded the scene—was unmistakable. This wasn’t a random act. This wasn’t something that happened on a whim. This was planned. Every single step of it.

As the footage progressed, they watched as Sukuna made his escape. A few more masked individuals escorted him through the compound, eliminating threats without hesitation. They were efficient, ruthless, and perfectly synchronized. And when it was done, Sukuna walked away without a scratch. Not a single bullet wound, not a mark on his clothes. He disappeared into the smoke and chaos as if he was nothing more than a ghost, vanishing without a trace.

Nanami’s voice was low, tinged with disbelief. “He knew all along, didn’t he? This was never just an escape. It was a setup. Sukuna planned this from the start.”

Higuruma’s mind raced, piecing together the puzzle. It made sense now—the strange sense of ease that Sukuna had always carried, the nonchalant way he handled everything, as though he was several steps ahead. He had known this day was coming. He had planned it meticulously. And now, Sukuna was free.

You wake up, slowly stirring from a deep sleep, your senses slowly coming to life. Your hands stretch out, searching instinctively for the warmth of Higuruma beside you, but the space next to you feels empty. You frown, confusion creeping in as you open your eyes to find the bed beside you still perfectly made, as if he had never been there.

A quiet panic sets in, and you hurriedly throw on your silk robe, the fabric cool against your skin. You move quickly, your heart beating a little faster as you walk down the stairs. The house is still, too still, and as you pass through the living room, you find no sign of him.

Entering the kitchen, you check the counters and the chairs, expecting to see him making coffee or at least be somewhere nearby. But there’s nothing. No signs of him.

One of the guards notices you, and you stop, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You ask him, your voice tinged with concern, “Where’s Higuruma?”

The guard hesitates for a moment, his face serious. “He left early this morning,” he replies, his voice lower than usual. “There’s… been a situation.”

You feel a cold shiver run down your spine. “What happened?”

He meets your gaze, his expression more somber than you expected. “Sukuna escaped. They’re handling it, but your boyfriend is already on his way to the facility.”

Your heart drops. The weight of those words feels like a ton of bricks falling on your chest. You thought Sukuna’s escape was something that might happen in some distant, abstract way, but hearing it from someone so close to you makes it real.

“Is he okay?” you manage to ask, though the words feel heavy in your mouth.

The guard nods, though his face is drawn tight with concern. “He’s fine. He told me to let you know he’ll be back in the afternoon. He didn’t want you to worry.”

You nod, though a cold knot has settled in your stomach, the panic turning into a dull ache. “Thanks,” you murmur, still struggling to process everything.

You walk back up to the bedroom, the silk of your robe barely brushing against your skin as you do. The house feels so much emptier without Higuruma here. As you sit down on the edge of the bed, your mind races. You had been planning on telling him today, but now it doesn’t feel like the right time. With everything going on with Sukuna’s escape, it would be selfish to add to the burden he already carries.

You can’t help but feel a deep, sinking feeling as you sit there, the weight of both your own secret and the world crashing down around you. You think about Higuruma out there, dealing with one of the most dangerous men alive, while you’re left here, with your own turmoil brewing quietly under the surface.

It’s not the right day. You know that deep down. You’ll wait for the right moment, when the storm inside him has calmed. Because today isn’t about you. Today is about making sure he’s safe. And you just have to keep your own fears at bay, at least for now.

Higuruma walks through the front door, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The weight of the morning presses down on him—the press, the endless declarations, and the looming pressure of Sukuna’s escape. His mind feels like it’s spinning from all the chaos, and he’s desperate for some quiet, for some peace. He just wants to hold you, to find comfort in your presence.

The moment he steps into the hallway, one of the guards greets him with a slight bow. “Sir, your girlfriend is not feeling well. She decided to take a nap.”

A knot tightens in his stomach. He’s been so focused on the madness outside that he didn’t even think to check on you before he left. But now that he’s home, his concern for you hits him hard.

Before he can respond, he hears the unmistakable sound of you throwing up from behind the door. His heart sinks. Without a second thought, he sprints toward the bathroom, his footsteps echoing in the hall as his mind races with worry.

He bursts through the door to find you crouched over the toilet, pale and clearly struggling. You’re gripping the sides of the sink, your hair messily hanging around your face. It’s the same scene as before, but this time, there’s no anger, no frustration—only concern etched deeply across his face.

“Hey,” he says softly, kneeling next to you. His hand gently moves the strands of hair out of your face, his touch tender and familiar. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he leans over you. “It’s okay, just breathe. It’ll pass.”

You take shallow breaths, trying to steady yourself. His presence is a comfort, and you lean back slightly into his touch. His hand is steady on your back, rubbing small circles as he whispers calming words into your ear, reminding you to breathe and focus.

When you finally stop, you sit back on your heels, still feeling nauseous but grateful for the gentle presence of Higuruma. He helps you up, guiding you to the sink as you splash cold water on your face. He watches you carefully, his worry not hidden in the furrow of his brow.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, wiping your face with the towel, your voice weak but grateful for him being here.

“Don’t apologize,” he says quickly, voice thick with concern. “You’re not feeling well. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod, still not quite feeling like yourself. You try to brush it off, but the worry in his eyes makes it impossible to ignore. His suspicions are right, you can feel it. Everything points to the possibility of pregnancy—except, you’re not sure how to tell him. The last thing you want to do is add more stress to everything he’s already carrying.

Higuruma leans against the bathroom wall, arms crossed but his gaze soft and full of worry. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts—there’s a part of him that wants to ask directly, to demand the truth, but he holds back.

Higuruma gently guides you to the bed, his movements slow and steady as if trying to ease the weight of the world that seems to hang heavy between you two. He helps you lie down, your head resting on his chest, and his hands move instinctively to soothe your hair, brushing it softly as he feels the tension in your body slowly start to ease.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Higuruma leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips soft against your skin, and the gesture carries so much tenderness, so much love.

“I should accompany you to the doctor tomorrow,” he says, his voice low, filled with concern. “I don’t want you to go alone. You haven’t been feeling well for a while now.”

You don’t respond, the silence between you thick with unspoken words. He senses the weight of it, the hesitance in your stillness.

“I don’t think it’s just anxiety,” he adds, his voice a little softer now, more vulnerable. “I think it’s something more.”

Still, there’s no answer, only the quiet rhythm of your breathing against his chest. Then, suddenly, his fingers still on your hair as he feels a soft tremor against him.

He freezes for a moment, and that’s when he hears it—the quiet, almost inaudible sobs.

His heart clenches at the sound, his hands instinctively going to your back as he sits up, pulling you into his arms. His eyes are filled with concern as he looks down at you, his chest heavy with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice strained with emotion.

You shake your head, the words caught in your throat, but your body betrays you with another tremor, a sob that shakes through your frame.

“Talk to me,” he whispers gently, his voice filled with the rawness of wanting to help, to understand. “Please.”

You look up at him, your face streaked with tears, your eyes filled with uncertainty and fear. And it’s in that moment, when you meet his gaze, that the words finally come rushing out, the truth you’ve been holding in for so long.

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, barely a breath.

Higuruma’s world seems to stop for a moment. His heart stills in his chest, the air thick and suffocating as his mind scrambles to process the words you just spoke. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to react, but he can feel his body tense as his eyes search your face, looking for any sign of what you’re feeling.

You cover your face with your hands, unable to bear the rawness of the moment, unable to hide the shame and fear that flood you.

Higuruma doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you into his arms tightly, his hands running through your hair as he holds you close. The tears that you’ve held back fall freely now, and his heart breaks as he feels your pain, your fear, and your uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he whispers softly, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

You cry into his chest, the sobs coming harder now as the floodgates open. “I’m sorry,” you choke out, your words muffled against him. “I never wanted to make your life harder.”

Higuruma shakes his head, his grip on you tightening as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “No, sweetheart, no,” he says fiercely, his voice low but filled with warmth and reassurance. “You haven’t made my life harder. You’ve made it better. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, to see the tears in your eyes, the vulnerability that you’ve shared with him. His voice is steady, determined as he continues. “I’m going to be here for you. For you and our baby. I promise you, we’ll face this together. I’m not leaving you.”

Your tears mix with the smallest, bittersweet smile, a fragile hope blooming in your chest as you look at him. Through the tears, you smile, knowing that in this moment, you’re not alone. His words, his promise—they are everything.

“I’m scared,” you whisper, your voice small, fragile, yet full of hope.

Higuruma brushes a tear from your cheek, his eyes soft but steady. “I’m scared too,” he admits. “But we’ll face it together. Every step of the way.”

And in that moment, as you hold each other, both of you crying and smiling, you know that no matter what comes next, you will have each other. Through the uncertainty, through the fear, through everything—you will face it together.

[kentobb]

hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

chapter 20 > chapter 22

chapter 21

The tree’s shadow falls over Higuruma as he stands silently, his posture rigid, his hand gripping yours tightly. The sun is muted behind the heavy gray clouds, casting a somber hue over the funeral. A few dozen people are gathered around a casket in the distance, the quiet murmurs of grief blending with the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

The pastor speaks, his voice carrying across the space, solemn and steady.

“We gather here today to lay to rest a man who carried the weight of his pain in ways many of us could never understand,” he says. “A son, a father, a brother—a man whose life was defined by struggle but also resilience. His actions, though not without fault, stemmed from love—love for his family, love for the life he built, however imperfect it may have been.”

Higuruma stares at the scene, his face unreadable, but his jaw tightens with every word. He watches the mourners, their heads bowed, their expressions a mixture of sorrow and quiet reflection.

You stand beside him, your hand in his, sensing the storm of emotions brewing beneath his calm exterior. His grip on your hand is firm, as though holding onto you is the only thing keeping him grounded. You look up at him, searching his face, but his eyes remain fixed on the scene ahead.

From behind the tree, the three of you—Higuruma, Nanami, and yourself—keep your distance, watching as the ceremony unfolds. Nanami had arrived minutes earlier, his presence a quiet acknowledgment of the moment’s gravity. He stands just to the side, his arms crossed, his expression stoic but reflective.

The pastor continues, his voice unwavering.

“His family remembers him as a man who carried his burdens alone, who fought for his loved ones with all that he had, even when it seemed there was little left to fight with. He was stubborn, yes, but also unyielding in his convictions. Today, we honor not just the man he was, but the humanity within him—the struggles, the triumphs, and the love he gave in his own way.”

Higuruma exhales sharply, the words cutting deeper than he anticipated. His mind flashes back to Toji’s final moments, the blood, the bitterness in his voice, the despair masked by anger.

Your fingers squeeze his, pulling him slightly back to the present. “Are you okay?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He doesn’t look at you, his gaze still locked on the casket. “I will be,” he mutters, his voice heavy.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind you breaks the quiet. Higuruma turns, his sharp instincts flaring for a moment, only to see Geto walking toward you. He’s holding Gojo’s hand, steadying him as they approach.

Gojo looks pale, his arm in a sling, his movements slow and deliberate. There’s a light bruise under his eye, and though his usual confident smirk is absent, his presence alone is a testament to his resilience.

Geto nods at Higuruma in acknowledgment before guiding Gojo to stand beside him. You glance at Gojo, relief washing over you at the sight of him upright, even if still recovering.

Gojo’s eyes drift to the casket in the distance, his expression hard to read. “So, that’s it,” he says quietly, his voice hoarse, likely from both injury and exhaustion.

“Yeah,” Higuruma replies simply, his tone flat.

The four of you stand together, a quiet unity forming as the casket begins its slow descent into the ground. The mourners around it grow quieter, the sobs of a woman breaking the silence intermittently.

Geto’s grip on Gojo’s hand tightens as they both watch the ceremony from afar. Neither speaks, though Geto’s gaze flickers briefly toward Higuruma. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s an understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the weight Higuruma carries.

As the casket reaches the bottom, Higuruma finally looks away, his eyes falling to his own hands, still stained—at least in his mind—with the guilt of everything that’s happened. He feels your grip on his hand again, grounding him once more.

“It’s over,” you whisper, your voice gentle.

He nods slowly, though the tightness in his chest doesn’t ease. The four of you remain standing in silence as the mourners begin to disperse, their grief lingering in the air. From afar, you watch the final shovels of dirt cover the casket, the chapter finally closing on the chaos Toji had brought into all your lives.

Though no one says it, there’s a sense of shared understanding in the air—a fragile peace that binds you all, even if the scars of what’s happened will remain.

The city lights flicker outside as Higuruma drives to his apartment, the low hum of the car filling the silence. You’ve noticed the shift in his demeanor these past three days—his quietness deeper, his thoughts distant. His grip on the wheel is firm, almost too tight, and his jaw is clenched as if holding back something he can’t say.

When you finally arrive at his place, he moves mechanically, unlocking the door and stepping inside without a word. He doesn’t even turn on the lights, heading straight to the window. There, he stands, his silhouette framed by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. His gaze is fixed, unseeing, as though he’s somewhere else entirely.

You follow him, your footsteps soft, and wrap your arms around him from behind. Your cheek presses against his back as you hold him close, planting a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. He doesn’t react at first, but his breathing hitches, just barely.

“How are you feeling?” you ask softly, your voice breaking the stillness.

“I don’t know,” he admits after a long pause, his voice heavy and distant.

You feel his muscles tense beneath your touch. He turns slowly, his movements deliberate, and when he faces you, he pulls you into his arms. The hug is tight, almost desperate, as if he’s holding on to you to keep himself from falling apart.

“What about you?” he asks, his voice quieter now, his breath warm against your hair. “How are you feeling?”

You rest your head against his chest, your own emotions stirring. “I don’t know either,” you whisper, and your voice trembles with honesty.

He leans back slightly, his hands coming up to cradle your face as his forehead rests against yours. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin. “We’ll get through it together.”

When your eyes meet, you see them—tears forming in his dark gaze, threatening to spill. Your hand instinctively reaches up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against the dampness trailing down.

“Hiromi,” you say gently, your voice trembling as your heart aches for him. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please… just let it go.”

His composure cracks, and the weight he’s been carrying finally collapses. A ragged sob escapes him, and he buries his face in your shoulder. His body shakes as he clings to you, and his cries fill the quiet room.

“I feel… so guilty,” he chokes out. “I killed him. I had to, but… I can’t stop thinking about it. About him. About how angry, how broken he was. I saw it in his eyes, and I…”

He pulls back slightly, his face crumpled with anguish. “I feel like a monster. How can I feel sorry for him when he hurt you? When he nearly killed Gojo? What kind of person does that make me?”

Tears well in your own eyes as you shake your head vehemently. “You’re not a monster,” you say firmly, your voice breaking. “You did what you had to do. To protect us. To protect yourself. That doesn’t make you a bad person—it makes you human.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, his tears falling freely now. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his cheeks, kissing away the salty trails. You hold his face between your hands, your grip firm yet tender, grounding him.

“I’m here,” you tell him, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your own face. “We’ll carry this together. You’re not alone in this, Higuruma. I’m with you. Every step of the way.”

Your foreheads press together again, your breaths mingling as his hands come up to cover yours. His grip tightens slightly, as if anchoring himself to you.

“Together,” he whispers hoarsely, and in that single word, there’s a promise. A fragile, beautiful hope.

[Three weeks later..]

The night is quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the soft rhythm of Higuruma’s breathing beside you. You’re curled up against him, his arm draped protectively over your waist. But something feels off—a strange, churning sensation in your stomach pulls you from sleep.

You lie still for a moment, hoping it’ll pass, but it only worsens. Before you know it, you’re slipping out of bed and rushing to the bathroom. The sound of retching fills the silence, waking Higuruma instantly.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice groggy but laced with concern as he hurries to your side. He kneels beside you, his hands already gathering your hair and holding it back as you lean over the toilet. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You groan softly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as the wave subsides. “I… I don’t know,” you manage, your voice weak.

Higuruma’s brows furrow as he rubs soothing circles on your back. “Did I mess up dinner again?” he asks, half-teasing, though the worry in his tone is unmistakable.

You glance up at him, exhausted but touched by his attempt to lighten the moment. “I don’t think so,” you say, managing a faint smile. “I’ve just… I haven’t been feeling great lately.”

Higuruma tilts his head slightly, his hand never ceasing its comforting motions. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few days,” you admit. “I thought it was stress… or maybe anxiety. Everything’s been so overwhelming.”

He hums softly, his other hand brushing against your forehead to check for a fever. “No fever,” he mutters to himself. Then, looking back at you, he smiles gently, his tired eyes soft with affection. “You’re worrying me, though. I’m starting to think I’m cursed in the kitchen.”

Despite yourself, you let out a weak laugh. “You’re not a bad chef, I promise.”

“Debatable,” he teases, but his gaze grows more serious. “Still, we can’t keep blaming anxiety for everything. Maybe we should check this out—just to be sure.”

You nod, leaning into his chest as he pulls you into a gentle hug. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice shaky but comforted by his presence.

For now, Higuruma helps you back to bed, his arm wrapped around you as if shielding you from anything that could hurt you. Both of you drift off, your thoughts lingering on what could be causing this strange turn in your health.

The soft sizzle of eggs fills the quiet kitchen as Higuruma expertly flips them in the pan. His morning routine had become something of a solace lately—a moment of calm before the day unfolded. As he grabs a pinch of salt, his phone buzzes on the counter. Glancing down, he sees Gojo Satoru flashing across the screen.

He sighs but picks it up, already bracing for whatever chaos Gojo might bring to his morning.

“Gojo,” Higuruma greets, his voice calm but slightly wary.

“Chef Higuruma! How’s it going? Burned breakfast yet, or are you going for round two of ‘How to Ruin Eggs’?” Gojo’s voice comes through, cheerful and relentlessly teasing.

Higuruma lets out a rare chuckle. “Not today. Though I’ll be sure to send you a plate if I do.”

“Spare me, man. I’m still recovering,” Gojo quips, a playful edge in his tone. “Speaking of which, you and your better half doing okay?”

“She’s fine. A little under the weather lately,” Higuruma replies, keeping his voice neutral. “She’s been throwing up a lot.”

“Oh?” Gojo hums, his mischievous tone creeping in. “Well, congratulations, dad.”

Higuruma pauses, confused. “Dad?”

“Yeah, you know… a father? Papa? Otoosan? Sounds like someone’s pregnant!” Gojo declares triumphantly, as if he’s cracked a life-altering mystery.

Higuruma shakes his head, suppressing a laugh. “That’s impossible. We’ve been careful.”

“Pfft,” Gojo scoffs. “Careful? My man, the number of times I’ve heard that line? Every ‘careful’ couple ends up knee-deep in diapers nine months later.”

“I’m serious,” Higuruma says, though there’s a faint smile on his face.

“So am I,” Gojo replies smugly. “I can already see it now—tiny little Higurumas running around, all serious and brooding, carrying baby gavels.”

Higuruma finally lets out a laugh. “You’ve lost it, Gojo.”

But even as he brushes it off, a nagging thought slips into his mind. She didn’t take the Plan B after the…Could it really…? No. That’s ridiculous. Surely you’d have noticed by now.

“Higuruma? Hello? You there, or did you just realize I’m right?” Gojo’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Higuruma mutters, brushing it off. “I was just trying to remember why I answer your calls.”

“To brighten your day, obviously,” Gojo says without missing a beat. “Anyway, I gotta run. Try not to burn the eggs—or the house.”

“Have a good day, Gojo,” Higuruma replies, shaking his head as he hangs up.

He’s setting the eggs on a plate when he hears soft footsteps behind him. Turning, he sees you padding into the kitchen, your expression scrunched up as you immediately cover your nose.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“The smell of eggs,” you mumble, waving your hand in front of your face. “It’s making me nauseous.”

Higuruma pauses, his mind snapping back to Gojo’s joke. “Do you want some fruit instead?”

You nod quickly, looking relieved. “Thanks,” you mutter, already turning back toward the bedroom.

Higuruma watches you leave, the gears in his mind turning. The conversation with Gojo replays in his head, and his brow furrows. Could it really be…?

He shakes his head. No, that’s ridiculous. You’d have noticed by now… right? But as he starts slicing some fruit, a small voice in his head refuses to let the idea go.

Gojo’s words echo obnoxiously in his mind: “Congrats, dad!”

Higuruma groans, shaking his head. “If you jinxed me, Gojo, I swear…”

He shakes his head again, trying to push the thought away, but it lingers, stubborn and persistent. Could you be pregnant?

Higuruma stands in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his white dress shirt, his expression focused and calm as always. His suit is pressed to perfection, the dark fabric complementing his composed demeanor. You, still in your soft nightgown, approach him quietly, holding his tie in your hands.

“Let me,” you say softly, gesturing for him to stop fidgeting with it.

He steps back slightly, allowing you to stand in front of him. You loop the tie around his neck with practiced ease, your fingers brushing against his collarbone as you carefully tie it into a neat Windsor knot. There’s a quiet intimacy in the moment, the soft morning light framing both of you.

As you finish, your eyes meet his. “There,” you whisper, smoothing the fabric of his tie against his chest.

He looks down at you, his eyes softer than usual. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile faintly and lean in to kiss him, your lips pressing softly against his. The kiss is unhurried, filled with a quiet kind of passion. When you pull back, your hand lingers on his chest.

“Why can’t I go with you?” you ask, your voice gentle but tinged with disappointment.

Higuruma sighs, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. “You won’t be back at the office until you’re feeling better,” he says firmly, but there’s no harshness in his tone—just concern.

You pout slightly, your lower lip jutting out just enough to tug at his heart. He leans down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one more lingering, as if he’s sealing the conversation. He pulls away to kiss your forehead, letting his lips rest there for a moment.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice warm.

He reaches for his bag and car keys on the counter. As he adjusts the strap on his shoulder, you cross your arms and call out, “Oh, before you go—Utahime’s paying me a visit later.”

He pauses near the door, turning back to look at you. His brow lifts slightly, but he offers a small smile. “That’s fine,” he says, his tone easy. “Just don’t let her convince you to overdo it. Rest.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yes, Dad.”

Higuruma chuckles under his breath, his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you later,” he says softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. Then he’s gone, leaving the room with the faint scent of his cologne still in the air.

You stand there for a moment, the quiet of the apartment settling around you. Even as he leaves, the warmth of his kisses lingers, making you smile faintly before you head to prepare for Utahime’s visit.

The massive federal detention facility loomed, its stark gray walls and barbed wire a grim reminder of what lay within. Higuruma stepped out of his car, his briefcase in hand, his sharp suit cutting a striking figure against the bleak backdrop. He spotted Nanami standing at the entrance, his own professional demeanor a perfect match to Higuruma’s.

Nanami extended a hand. “Higuruma.”

Higuruma nodded, clasping it briefly. “Nanami.”

Without wasting time, they strode toward the main entrance. Guards in tactical gear checked their identification and thoroughly searched their belongings before allowing them to proceed. They passed through metal detectors, the cold hum of security devices adding to the sterile atmosphere.

As they walked through the endless corridors, Higuruma broke the silence. “Sukuna is…an unconventional individual.”

Nanami arched a brow, a faint chuckle escaping him. “Unconventional? Coming from you, that’s a surprise.”

“He’s unserious,” Higuruma said, his voice flat. “Despite the gravity of his situation, he treats it like an inconvenience rather than the severity it warrants.”

Nanami shook his head, skeptical. “The most dangerous man in the country cracking jokes? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

They reached a reinforced steel door, where armed guards stood at attention. One of them punched in a code, and the door hissed open, revealing the room beyond.

Sitting at the table, wrists shackled but posture exuding confidence, was Sukuna. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk plastered across his face. His red tattoos stood out vividly against his pale skin, and his eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Well, well,” Sukuna drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “I was expecting Higuruma and his lovely partner, not…” His gaze slid to Nanami. “A sausage party.”

Nanami blinked, visibly caught off guard by the audacity of the remark.

“Sukuna,” Higuruma said evenly, ignoring the comment as he placed his briefcase on the table.

Sukuna’s grin widened. “Oh, come on, Higuruma. Lighten up. You’ve been the talk of the town. I heard through the grapevine you were out there living a Fast & Furious sequel. Car chases, shootouts—what’s next? Jumping out of a plane?”

“Grapevine? You mean your cell partner?” Higuruma asked with a scoffed.

Nanami cleared his throat, still processing Sukuna’s brazen attitude. “You’re certainly…not what I expected.”

“I get that a lot,” Sukuna said, winking.

Higuruma straightened, his tone sharp and professional. “We’re not here for entertainment, Sukuna. Let’s discuss the offer from the government.”

Sukuna’s smirk faltered slightly but didn’t disappear entirely. “Ah, yes, the grand offer. Lay it on me, Counselor.”

Higuruma opened his briefcase, pulling out neatly organized documents. “The federal prosecutors have proposed a sentence of 190 years in maximum security, with no possibility of parole. This includes acknowledgment of the plea deal, sparing you from the death penalty.”

Sukuna threw his head back, laughing loudly. “A hundred and ninety years? What do they think I am? A vampire?”

Nanami’s lips twitched, but he said nothing.

“Be serious,” Sukuna continued, his laughter subsiding into a mocking grin. “I’m not even going to be alive by the time half of that rolls around. They may as well just say ‘forever’ and save everyone the paperwork.”

Higuruma ignored the quip, sliding the document across the table. “The terms are non-negotiable, but there is room to discuss sentence reductions for cooperation.”

Sukuna raised a brow, leaning forward slightly. “Reduction to what? One hundred and eighty-nine years? Tempting.”

Nanami interjected, his tone measured. “You might want to consider the alternatives, Sukuna. Cooperation could significantly influence the conditions of your sentence, if not the length.”

Sukuna tapped his fingers on the table, pretending to mull it over. “Let me guess, you want me to give you the names of all my little friends? Hand over some juicy intel, and I get to spend my days in a slightly nicer cell?”

Higuruma met his gaze without flinching. “The specifics of cooperation would determine the benefits. Otherwise, the 190 years stand.”

Sukuna sighed theatrically. “You lawyers and your numbers. How about this? You convince them to shave off, oh, I don’t know, a hundred and eighty years, and I’ll think about it.”

Nanami leaned back in his chair, observing. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Sukuna. Your choices here will determine the rest of your life—or what’s left of it.”

Sukuna’s grin faded slightly, and for a brief moment, his eyes darkened. “Oh, I’m well aware. But tell me, Higuruma, what’s in it for you? Are you here to make the world a better place, or are you just another cog in the machine?”

Higuruma didn’t hesitate. “I’m here to do my job. And if doing so ensures you don’t harm another soul, then it’s a job worth doing.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Sukuna leaned back again, his smirk returning but less genuine this time. “Fine. Let’s talk options, Counselor. But don’t expect me to make it easy.”

Higuruma nodded curtly, adjusting his papers. “I never do.”

Nanami glanced between the two men, his respect for Higuruma quietly growing as the negotiation continued, layered with tension, wit, and unyielding professionalism.

The soft knock on the door drew you from your restless thoughts. You made your way to answer it, each step heavier than the last, your mind already tangled in the uncertainty that had been weighing on you for days. When you opened the door, Utahime’s warm smile greeted you, her arms opening wide for a hug.

Without hesitation, you stepped into her embrace, her hold comforting and grounding. “It’s been too long,” she murmured, squeezing you tightly.

“It really has,” you replied softly, leading her inside. “Come on, let’s sit in the bedroom.”

The two of you made your way to the room, collapsing side by side onto the bed. The weight of her presence, so familiar and safe, was a balm to your unsettled thoughts. The two of you stared at the ceiling in companionable silence for a while, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound in the room.

But the thoughts you had buried couldn’t stay hidden any longer. You took a deep breath, the words catching in your throat before you forced them out. “Utahime… I think I might be pregnant.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Utahime shot up, turning to face you with wide eyes. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”

You nodded, your hands instinctively covering your stomach as you avoided her gaze. “I’ve been feeling weird lately—dizzy, nauseous all the time. The smell of food is unbearable. I can’t even look at eggs without wanting to throw up.”

Utahime’s brows knit together in concern as she sat up fully. “How long has this been going on?”

“Maybe two weeks,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think much of it at first… I thought it was just stress.”

Utahime stared at you, her concern deepening. “Have you taken a test? Anything to confirm it?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ve been too scared. What if it’s positive? What if my life changes forever? What if it’s negative and I’m just overreacting?”

Your voice cracked, and Utahime reached over, gripping your hand tightly. “Why didn’t you say anything? Does Higuruma know?”

You shook your head again, your throat tight. “He doesn’t know. I don’t even know how to bring it up to him. He’s been through so much lately—I didn’t want to add this to his plate unless I was sure.”

Utahime sighed, her expression softening as she looked at you. “I get it. But you can’t carry this on your own. You have to know, one way or the other. Not knowing is only making this worse.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away, staring at the ceiling. “What if it’s positive, Utahime? What if I’m not ready? What if we’re not ready?”

Utahime scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Then you take it one step at a time. You’re not alone in this. You have me, and you have Higuruma. You’ve been through so much together. You’ll figure this out, no matter what the outcome is.”

Her steady, unwavering presence gave you the courage you hadn’t been able to find in yourself. You turned to her, your voice trembling. “What do I do now?”

Utahime squeezed your shoulder and stood, pulling you up with her. “We go to the pharmacy. Right now. You need to know, and I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Her words were firm, her determination infectious. You nodded, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Okay… let’s go.”

As the two of you grabbed your things and headed for the door, a flicker of hope stirred in your chest. You didn’t know what the answer would be, but you knew one thing: you weren’t facing this alone.

Sukuna lounged in his seat, a smirk tugging at his lips as he casually tossed out demands that bordered on the absurd. “No prison time. Not even probation. Hell, I don’t even want to see a parking ticket on my record when this is over,” he declared, leaning back with an air of defiance.

Higuruma’s expression remained stoic, though disbelief flickered in his eyes. “That’s… ambitious,” he said, his voice carefully measured, professional.

Nanami, seated beside him, let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ambitious? That’s putting it mildly. This isn’t a negotiation; it’s a fantasy list.”

Sukuna chuckled, thoroughly amused. “Come on, gentlemen. I thought you were supposed to be the best. Surely, you can make a little magic happen?”

“This isn’t magic. It’s the law,” Higuruma responded coldly. “You’re asking for the impossible, and frankly, it’s wasting everyone’s time.”

Sukuna’s grin didn’t falter. Instead, it grew wider. “Alright, how about this? I want to see my wife and kid.”

The room went silent. Higuruma’s brows furrowed slightly, though he kept his tone neutral. “The wife who testified against you? The one who cooperated with authorities to ensure your capture? I find that request… curious.”

Nanami, who had been doing his best to keep his patience intact, leaned forward. “You’re delusional if you think that’s an option. Not only has she disappeared, but there’s no indication she’d want anything to do with you.”

Sukuna’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something more solemn, though his tone remained sharp. “They’re my family. She’s my wife. My son is my son. No matter what she’s done, no matter where she’s gone.”

Nanami scoffed. “You think she’s waiting around for you? She testified to get as far away from you as possible. Even if we could find them, what makes you think she’d agree to see you?”

Higuruma cut in before Sukuna could retort, his voice cold and deliberate. “Your family doesn’t owe you anything. You’ve given them every reason to run and none to look back. If you truly cared about them, you’d let them live their lives in peace.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, his smirk gone. “Let them live in peace? You think that’s easy for me? Knowing they’re out there somewhere? If you had a family, Higuruma, wouldn’t you do everything in your power to see them? Wouldn’t you tear the world apart to find them?”

The question hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the confident Sukuna seemed almost vulnerable.

Higuruma didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable. He adjusted his tie, straightening in his seat. “What I would do is irrelevant. You’re here because of your actions, Sukuna. Whatever you feel about your family now, it’s too late to change what’s been done.”

Nanami crossed his arms, his tone curt. “You’re not getting what you want. Not from us, not from anyone. Accept the reality of your situation and stop dragging this out with impossible demands.”

Sukuna leaned back again, though his eyes were colder now, his smirk more forced. “Reality, huh? Alright, boys. Keep your reality. I’ll be waiting for you to deliver something worthwhile next time.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Higuruma and Nanami exchanged a glance before gathering their documents. As they stood to leave, Sukuna’s voice followed them, taunting.

“And, Higuruma… maybe think about my question. Might give you some perspective.”

Higuruma didn’t look back, his steps steady as he exited the room, but Sukuna’s words lingered in the air like a shadow.

[kentobb]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Masterlist ⠀ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Hi lovelies! ♡

We’re A and D—two chaotic flight attendants just vibing through life. One of us writes, the other throws out ideas, and together we somehow make it work (two brain cells bouncing off each other).

We’re 23 and 24, and when we’re not flying around the world, we’re binge-write and read fanfic. Got an idea? Slide into our request box—it’s open for all your Haikyuu!! and Jujutsu Kaisen.

Thanks for being here, and remember: Stay unbothered, stay hydrated, and happy reading! ✨

- A & D

────୨ৎ──── Jujutsu Kaisen ────୨ৎ────

Hiromi Higuruma ⋆˙⟡

fem! secretary au (completed)

Gojo Satoru ⋆˙⟡

the bet (in progress)

Sukuna Ryomen ⋆˙⟡

the bet (in progress)

────୨ৎ──── Haikyuu ────୨ৎ────

Ushijima Wakatoshi ⋆˙⟡

the promise

Hajime Iwaizumi ⋆˙⟡

i hate you

xoxo

[kentobb]

Hi, lovelies! 💞

I wanted to share a little update about Presage and The Bet. I’ve decided to set both series to private for now. Truthfully, I wasn’t feeling proud of what I’d written, which led to some serious writer’s block. But the good news is, I’m in a much better place emotionally, and I’m excited to rewrite them with fresh inspiration!

Since I can only focus on one project at a time, I’ll be opening up a little vote for which series you’d like me to work on first. Once I finish my current project (Higuruma and the Secretary—which will wrap up in just three days), I’ll dive right into the one you choose.

Thank you so much for all your love, support, and thoughtful comments. You’ve made this journey so special, and I’m beyond grateful for every one of you. Don’t forget to vote and help me decide! 💖

With love,

A & D.

P.S. For any new readers curious about these series:

Presage is a heartfelt story centered around Ushijima Wakatoshi from Haikyuu!!, who unknowingly becomes a father—and discovers the truth five years later. It’s a mix of emotion, growth, and second chances.

Meanwhile, The Bet is a throwback to those classic Wattpad vibes! Sukuna Ryomen from JJK makes a bet to get close to the nerdy reader… but what starts as a challenge turns into something neither of them expected. It’s fun, dramatic, and full of that old-school charm.

Hope you’ll enjoy them when they’re back! 💕

Update (dec/5/24)

Hi Lovelies!💓

The voting process is now closed, and the results are in! The Bet will be the first story to be written. Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to vote—I truly appreciate your support! Stay tuned for the next chapter in this exciting journey!

With love,

A & D

[kentobb]

I loved the Higuruma x secretary 😍🩷🩷🩷 I spent a whole day reading it so I could take in all the juiciness 😍😍🩷🩷 you deserve a great break you’re amazing I actually physically can’t wait for the rest of the chapters 🙏🙏 thank you kiss your brain 🩷🙏🙏

thank you! 😭💞 it means a lot

[kentobb]

So you have an ao3? Please say yes so I can subscribe to the Hiromi fic 😭

omg i dont :( but im planning to!