sukubusss

[sukubusss]

he wants dat cookie so effing bad

[sukubusss]

ＷＡＹ ＯＵＴ ＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

volume one — womb

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, more tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: so. this was supposed to be my 1k special but i have no sense of restraint and desperately wanted to release this. enjoy my food. also check out the playlist for the curated mood and for a forehead kiss.

archive ─ playlist

series masterlist - volume two

art by outdmilk on twt

“This was a horrible idea.”

There was a sharp piercing pain in your ankle, due to you brushing it against a shrub, thus prickling it against a rather pointed thorn.

You scowled under your breath, pivoting on the ball of your foot to take a look at the injury just beneath your sock before adjusting the cloth and standing upright.

Your back was miserably sore, sweat clung to you like a second skin, your calves burned as if they were combustible, and worst of all—you were starving.

You felt as if you couldn’t thoroughly enjoy the scenery of the forest anymore—no longer stopping to listen to the throaty croaking of frogs, the wind sliding and slipping between the narrow trees, nor the occasional snap of twigs from skittish wildlife. 

It smelled of sun-warmed rock and wet earth, your heart thrumming and yearning for a connection with Mother Earth after months spent cooped up in the city and at home.

Adjusting your rucksack resting on your back, carrying everything you needed—which was far too much for a day hike—you continued on your trek. 

For a lack of better wording, you were a noob. You lacked any sort of experience with the woodlands but you believed there was no better time to start than now! Especially since life has managed to feel duller more than ever recently.

Fallen branches snapped underfoot, the tickle of overgrown weeds brushing your bottoms. The sun filtered through the leaves, beading down on you. Your only reprieve was your wide-brimmed hat and the somewhat forgiving breeze.

Pulling the now-crinkled sheet of paper with directions from your pocket, you unfurled it and spun it around, glancing at your compass while you did so.

The map you’d found online and ultimately printed was telling you that you still had quite the walk until the nearest exit route, at least a couple of hours ahead of you, and you knew you couldn’t continue on in this condition, sore in every spot you could imagine and more.

You were severely out of shape due to your sedentary lifestyle.

But how much of a choice did you have? You needed to get out of here before nightfall or else you’d be stalking around in the dark.

You wiped the sweat from your furrowed brow line in a harried manner before starting up your pace again, repeating ‘mind over matter’ to yourself like a mantra.

Unexpectedly and commendably, the sound of gentle trickling and splashes broke you from your focused state, your head snapping in that direction.

It was steady, and light. You hoped it was what you needed. It couldn’t be too far from here.

You followed the sound, hastening your pace as the sounds increased in volume, until you stood before a large creek. Birds sploshed and called to each other across the stream, rocks falling and breaking the surface with an audible plop!

You could feel your heart settle to a relieved murmur, a sudden idea popping into your mind that you couldn’t shake off.

You hadn’t seen anyone for miles, the forest around you dulled to its loneliness.

No one would notice if you went for a quick swim, right? Besides, if you were in better condition after a cooldown, you’d make it out of here before nightfall. Possibly. You hoped.

Shivering the thought off, you began to strip, tossing your bag to the floor and marking the stream on your map before resting it atop a pile of fallen leaves.

Your clothing stuck uncomfortably to you, and you contorted your expression in displeasure as you bared yourself to your undergarments. You would’ve preferred if you could scrub your outfit clean in the stream, but you had no place to hang them to dry nearby or any time to do so as this was just a day hike—so you tossed them upon a rock, clad in your cotton set, before stepping into the water.

It was freezing cold and clear, the moss-slicked rocks resting against the bottom catching your eye. There were small minnows making laps to and fro the sides of the creek, dragonflies humming just above the surface, and squirrels stopping to take a sip due to the sweltering heat.

You wrapped your hands around your bare self, slightly shivering, but also grateful for the cooling temperature.

Soon enough, you settled, laying your head back in the water and feeling it soak your roots for a moment, allowing your thrumming headache inflicted by the unforgiving heat come to a rest.

You then curled your arms, swimming deeper until you could see slightly larger fish, slipping against your bare calves and tickling you. You giggled, splashing water upon your face and releasing a sigh of content. Playing like a child.

Until you glanced over at your bag, a flutter of beige catching your attention.

Your map was currently flying in the opposite direction, flipping and turning against the ground and being sent deeper into the woodland.

Fucking great.

You gasped, eyes wide in shock as your pulse picked up, swimming towards the edge of the water frantically.

You crawled and clawed at soil, dirt clinging to your wet skin as you got to your feet, mottled green and brown painting you like a blank canvas.

“No, no, no!”  You yelped in denial, your feet picking up as you raced to it, hopping over branches and rocks that were sure to break some bone if you didn't slow down. But it seemed to only fly away further, impossibly far out of your reach, the breeze actively working against you.

However, your exclaims were picked up by someone else in the forest.

As you raced to the map, you could hear the sound of pressure hitting dirt behind you in a consistent pat! before barking sounded in your ears.

A gasp left your lips as your head spun behind you, a blurry fluff of white hurtling towards you, full-throttle.

Your priorities changed drastically in the moment—a shrill yelp leaving your lips as you sprinted down the forest in just your underwear, a sense of doom sent up your spine.

You were being chased down, probably to your demise. What a pathetic way to go out—flailing in the woods, half-naked, entirely alone besides your attacker.

Your voice caught in your throat, vocal cords frozen in fear, unable to call for help.

Yet, someone heard your silent pleas.

“Uraume, down!” A gruff voice sounded, followed by the click of a tongue and a commanding whistle.

The onslaught stopped instantly, peering past your shoulder to see the white shepherd-dog sitting proudly, tongue flailing and panting as if it hadn’t just tried to eat you.

Okay. Realistically, it probably wouldn’t have eaten you as it is a dog that looks surprisingly domesticated. But how else does someone react when an unfamiliar animal starts sprinting at them?

You craned your head towards the sound of that gruff voice before you saw a tall man emerge from behind a thick sequoia trunk.

He was massive, probably nearing seven feet, towering over you.

His eyes caught yours, ducking his cowboy-styled hat once taking notice of your nude form before quickly turning his back to you. He was clad in a red buffalo-plaid shirt, thick washed-out jeans, a brown and curved hat, and chunky brown and sturdy boots.

“Uh, ‘scuse me, ma’am. You alright?” He questioned, giving you only a sliver of his side-profile to view. You could make out thick, black lines across it making your stomach clench in steadily rising trepidation. You’d never seen anything like it.

Your hands flew to cover yourself, as if the man hadn’t already turned his back to you. “No! I am not as your mutt just chased me,” you spat out, surprised at how unlike yourself you sounded, though your voice was actively quivering in fear. Should you be yelling at this strange man?

“I see,” he exhaled, though you could hear the faintest amusement lingering in his tone at your exasperated state, somehow already starting to piss you off. “I believe you startled them.”

Your nose scrunched as you scowled deeply. “Excuse me? I– Who exactly are you?”

The man huffed, pushing air from his nose. “Sukuna. I’ve got a better question, though—who are you and why are you naked?”

You clenched your teeth, feeling your morals slide against each other before relaying your name. “I am naked because your dog chased me!”

You didn’t care that that didn’t make much sense.

Sukuna adjusted in his stead, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he stared ahead before taking a peep back at you. You gasped, grabbing a nearby twig and throwing it at him.

He directed his gaze away quickly at your outburst, barely able to conceal his pleasure in riling up this strange woman, not even flinching when the branch bounced off of his back. “So you’re saying the real reason you’re flailing naked in the woods is because of my dog…?”

You bit your tongue, holding back a slew of curses before taking a reluctant step back, twigs underfoot digging into your heel. “Well, no but…”

He grunted, shoving his hands into his pocket before nodding. “Alright, then. I’ll be on my way out, ma’am. You have a splendid au naturel evening,” he chuckled, cocking his head at his dog, Uraume, who barked in excitement.

They sprinted towards Sukuna, the large man squatting to ruffle their hair before making his way in the opposite direction of you.

You peered behind you, hands still lazily covering your form, to see your map had finally slowed, maybe the breeze was forgiving.

Hurrying over to it with a grin, you now see why it was motionless.

It was face down in a puddle of mud–drenched and entirely illegible.

Your heart dropped at the sight, blood and smile draining from your face, realizing you needed some sort of plan to get yourself out of this.

But your only plan was brown and soaking wet, save for the rude and burly man you’d encountered moments ago.

Fuck.

You hated that you had to even consider this, but your survival instincts and sense of urgency ultimately won over your ego.

“Wait!” You called out, seeing him a few hundred feet in front of you. His massive legs carried him far with ease.

He paused, not fully turning around but enough to signal that he took notice of your call.

Once you stopped close behind him, chest heaving with either chasing after him or your flooding embarrassment, you bit your lip before speaking. “Are you from around here?”

He paused, eyes narrowing. “These parts? Yeah, I live here.”

You released a small sigh of relief. Alright, that’s a solid start. “Do you think you could, I dunno, give me any directions out of here?”

Sukuna placed a hand against his hip, with the other pulling a box of cigarettes from his pocket and placing one in his mouth, back still facing you. “Mind lighting this for me?”

You could barely conceal your agitation, a sense of urgency tugging at you as you were quite literally naked in a forest with a strange man, night falling soon. “I’m sorry?”

“You need my help, I need yours. So be a darling and help a guy out, my hands have been sore all afternoon.”

He was lying. He was so obviously lying to your face.

You scoffed incredulously, feeling a sudden shiver wrack your body from the wind cooling your skin. Sukuna seemed to be toying with you, for whatever reason you couldn’t understand.

What joy did he get in harassing a helpless, naked lady in the woods?

But he had you stumped. As much as you hated this entire ordeal, you needed his assistance to get the hell out of here and return to your reality.

So you mustered up all of your courage, taking a few reluctant steps towards him. You could see the sleazy grin on his face once he’d realized you had surrendered, the quiet falls of your feet against the leaves evidence of your resignation as he hadn’t glanced at you yet. 

“Hand over the lighter,” you grit out through a clenched jaw.

“My pleasure,” he honeyed out, dipping his head towards you with shut eyes, his massive palm outstretched, a bed for his silver lighter.

You were finally able to get a proper look at his face. 

Tight lines etched his face, littered with a few scars, most likely from years of work of whatever it is he did in the woodlands. You also got a closer view of the tattoos marking his face, a weird juxtaposition to a man living in a forest, making you wonder what the story behind them was.

But what stood out to you the most was his pink-colored hair–something you’d never come across in all of your years. 

“Done gaping?” He smirked, eyes closed despite how assured he sounded knowing you were staring.

“Shut up,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the lighter from his massive hand that seemed to dwarf yours, rubbing your thumb against the spark wheel.

You watched it light up, holding it up to the butt of the cigarette and watched as it burned, ashes fluttering into the air.

He returned to his full height, snagging the lighter from your hand with ease and shoving his hands into his pockets, turning his back to you once more.

“You’ve got three options,” he ruled, pulling the cigarette from his lips and inhaling sharply, before pushing it out of his nose. “One, stay here and figure your own way out, and probably die. Two, you can listen to the directions I point you in… andddd probably die since you clearly don’t know your way around. The wolves here tend to get real hungry,” he snarled, wanting to get a reaction from you.

You rolled your eyes, bristling at his demeanor and the scent of smoke, fingers drumming impatiently on your biceps as you folded your arms. “Alright, I get it. What’s the last option where I hopefully don’t meet an early demise?”

His head dropped, almost smugly, thinking about something absolutely hilarious. “You can come stay with me.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Funny. What’s the actual last option?”

He didn’t respond, simply taking another hit from his cigarette, and you could feel your stomach clench.

“Okay. Where’s the nearest inn?”

“An inn in the middle of the woods?” He asked as if that was the stupidest question in the world.

You grit your teeth. “And no one else lives up here?”

He nodded.

You inhaled sharply. “With all due respect, Sukuna,” you started, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. “I don’t spend the night with random and strange men I come across in the woods, unlike most apparently.”

“Well, I gave you your options. I’m not gonna force you to do nothin’,” he coolly spoke, before lowering his voice. “But be warned. This forest ain’t a place a little lady like you wants to poke around at dusk.”

You shivered at his admission, fingernails pressing crescents into your biceps. “...What happens after nightfall?”

He chuckled low, making your skin crawl, and it wasn’t thanks to the breeze. 

“Wanna stay and find out for yourself?”

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

He’d allowed you the space of getting changed in private, back resting against a tree trunk and still facing away from you as he idly flicked the cap of his lighter on and off, the constant sound of metal meeting metal in the nearby distance.

You weren’t quite sure if he was doing it out of habit, or if it was some sort of unspoken signal to ease your worries that he hadn’t decided to ditch you to fend for yourself.

It was most likely the former, you could tell from one look the guy was a heartless brute. Probably why he lived in the woods.

But did he live alone here? Or did he have a docile wife and seven children ready to welcome you with open arms by the time you made your way up the trail?

After getting fully dressed, you shuffled your socks on before you let out a loud hiss—a sudden piercing pressure on your ankle.

Gently setting your sock down, you sat atop a nearby rock and crossed your legs to take a closer look. 

It seemed that the thorn that poked you earlier had done more than just that—the area swelling and red. The spot, previously a microscope hole, had grown and was practically glowing and exuding a heat.

You pressed a finger against it, immediately regretting it when it sent pain spiking through your veins, the skin bulbous.

“You’re not making it out of the forest any time soon in that condition.”

You yelped with a jump, full-body flinching and swinging your head behind you to see Sukuna towering over you, eyes narrowed to slits as he eyed your injury. “Jesus. Warn a woman next time?”

He ignored you, something you’ve noticed he has a habit of doing, as he folded in half, skimming a hand over your puncture wound. A tight whimper left your lips, his calloused finger pad ghosting over it before he straightened out. “Can you walk on it?”

You attempted to pull the sock back over before you winced, heart fluttering in nerves. “I-I can try,” you stammered out, trying to maneuver it carefully before he clicked his tongue.

“Fuck, alright,” he grunted, as if mulling something over before he stepped in front of you. He crouched down on one knee, jeans digging into the mud yet he didn’t seem to care. “Hop on.”

Your maw fell slack at the sight, suddenly feeling incredibly hot at the sight. This crude and ruffish man was offering to carry you all of the sudden.

“Uh, i-it’s alright. I can walk–”

“Quit your rambling and get on.” 

You shut up at his interruption, muttering a ‘rude much?’ he didn’t acknowledge under your breath before standing to a wobble, doing your best not to bump your ankle into anything as the pain began to flare to what felt like your bones.

Oddly enough, he was practically your height on his knees, his massive form slightly intimidating you.

You brought your hands over his shoulders and clasped them in front of him, hoping he couldn’t smell the musk radiating from your sweat-soaked clothing.

As you tried to wrap your legs around his midsection, he suddenly rose, wrapping his massive hands along the underside of your thighs and straightening to his full height.

You did everything to ignore the flip of your stomach as he did so, the touch burning your skin.

Something sizzled in your mind, before you realized how leggy this man actually was. “Could make a joke about the weather up here, but it’s really quite nice,” you snickered, head ducking between his hat, cheek right beside his, as your eyes raked over his bird's eye view.

“Shut it or I’m dropping you.”

Raising your hand around his face, you made a show of zipping your mouth closed to which he huffed at, effectively blocking his vision.

He made rounds picking up the things you’d managed to drop across the creek, stuffing them into your bag and pretending not to see the spare panties you’d brought along as you averted your gaze awkwardly, a heat rising from the back of your neck.

He carried your bag in one hand like it weighed nothing before whistling at his dog who managed to disappear somewhere in the woods some time ago. Moments later, Uraume came panting back, a stick in their mouth and wagging their tail.

“Later, Uraume. Let’s go home.”

The dog let out a whistling whine at the buzzword of ‘home,’ realizing their owner was not going to play fetch with them, before coming to Sukuna’s side.

You found it quite endearing to see the massive and huffy man have a furry friend, biting your lip when you found yourself grinning.

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Are you going to kill me and bury me where no one can find me?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He clearly was not one for humor.

𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

The walk back was oddly comfortable, the two of you trekking up a narrow path as the sun began to set, listening to the ambience of nature—the whooshing of the eolian wind, the groans of the trees, and the calls of wildlife.

You’d attempted to break the silence on a couple of occasions, but was only met with snippy or short replies, effectively shutting you up.

But the silence wasn’t unsettling, it was… easy.

You just hoped that this man was what he let on, wondering how long it’d take authorities to find your corpse if he was a madman considering how far inland you’d made it.

If they found your body.

You shivered at the thought.

“You cold?” He asked, breaking you from your thoughts, voice low and hoarse as he focused ahead of him.

“Oh, no. Actually the opposite. I’m– FUCK!”

You screeched louder than you’d meant to, eyes shutting tight as tears nearly began to flow down your cheeks, a sudden piercing pain in your ankle.

Sukuna froze, glancing down to your injury to see he’d brushed your ankle against a branch that was hanging low, his heart sinking at the sight. “Fuck.”

You bit your lip, holding back any cries as you tried to steady your ragged and shallow breaths, feeling lightheaded from the intense pain.

“I barely saw it…” he trailed off in a whispered tone, eyes wide as his fingers gripped your thighs tighter, feeling an intense wave of regret seeing your ankle swell even more.

“Just watch where you’re fucking going,” you gritted out, teeth clenched as your fingers curled in the leather of his jacket, feeling your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull and pass out.

“Right.” He curtly spoke, adjusting you on his back by lifting you and continuing on.

Once the pain subsided, something heavy settled in your chest. By Sukuna’s reaction, you realized just how rude you must’ve come off in your state of pain, mouth speaking before you could think.

Something apologetic itched at you, biting your tongue at his stifling silence, still moving forward without a word instead of ditching you like you probably deserved. You should apologize, right? You sounded incredibly ungrateful. He’d gone to so much of an effort to help you, receiving nothing in return.

Unless he was planning to kill you, of course, but you brushed that off.

You drew in air. “Hey, Sukuna. Uh, I just wanna–”

He froze, stopping in his tracks immediately before glancing around. Then he peered up quickly, glancing at how the sun was nearly about to fall.

“...Sukuna?”

“Shut up.”

You knitted your eyebrows immediately, head bouncing back in offense. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re–”

“Shut the fuck up for five seconds. We’re not alone,” he spat out in a hushed tone, head glancing towards you for emphasis.

You could feel yourself turn defensive in record time, scoffing incredulously with a chuckle. You opened your mouth to fire back something snappy, barely registering what he said, when you, too, heard it.

There was a quiet growl, you easily would’ve missed it had he not said anything, and subtle crunches of leaves near you.

You hadn’t even noticed Uraume, who’d been following you this entire time, began to whine, ears flopping downwards and flanking close to Sukuna.

He was right. You weren’t alone.

[sukubusss]

as always,

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[sukubusss]

faking it

loose change | previous chapter | chapter index

everyone has a price - even suguru geto

synopsis: with no friends and a wallet full of cash, you concoct one last idea to make your final semester one to remember. paying everyone's favorite pretty playboy to pretend to be your boyfriend to complete your college bucket list before you start the life your family is forcing you into. but you might be buying far more than you bargained for.

pairings: broke!Geto x rich!Reader x dropout!Sukuna

content: mdni, angst and fluff, college au, fake dating, pining, yearning, Geto is a bit of an asshole, reader is VERY awkward lol, sexual harassment (not from either guy), protective sukuna, uncomfortable situations, emotional hurt

art by @aransmind !!

Geto didn't like you, but he was damn good at acting like it.

Worth every penny.

His palm was warm in yours, thick fingers pressing into the back of your hand while your stuff was tucked under his arm. Shoulder and side brushing against you while he leaned down to murmur casual observations in your ear, ignoring the people staring in the halls, whispering between each other like they were baffled someone like him was with someone like you.

How had the composed and considerate Suguru Geto gotten wrapped around your conceited finger?

It hadn't quite been two full weeks, but it felt like longer. It wasn't that you savored every second of him being on the clock with you, but they still stuck with you anyway. Daydreaming about a guy who'd point blank told you he wasn't interested, that only stayed because you paid him to be there. He'd taken you to a movie last weekend, a place to be seen without having to actually speak to each other, but other than that, he'd mostly just been showing up between classes, walking you back to your car at the end of the day or taking the seat next to you to study in the library, only making occasional conversation when other people were around.

Putting on a show of pretending to be the best boyfriend a girl could dream of.

"You still nervous?" He asked, unfairly smooth, his low honeyed voice tempting you to forget the fact he didn't care if you were.

"A little," You admitted, palms clammy enough that you had to pull away, wiping them off on your skirt and about hold it back out before he slung his around your waist instead.

Your body went rigid, awkward in his arms before one of his friends called to him, choking on your own anxiety when suddenly a head of white hair popped out.

You knew who he was.

Who didn't?

Still, you'd never actually shared any classes or held a conversation with him.

"'Sup Suguru?" Gojo grinned, his face faltering for a second before he noticed you next to him, then quickly resuming his friendly facade. He stuck his hand out towards you, smiling big enough you could see his tongue stained blue, a sucker dangling from his lips. "Don't think we've met. Satoru Gojo."

"We have actually," You corrected him, the words slipping out before you could stop them, inwardly cringing and hoping you didn't sound like a bitch while you shook his hand.

Geto's fingers were stiff on your side.

"My parents had dinner with yours last year," You awkwardly added. He'd sat across the table from you texting most of the time, only looking up from his phone to eat his food and slipping out the second he finished his dessert.

"Really?" He cocked his head to the side, squinting at you and searching his brain for the memory then chuckling when he shook his head like he didn't remember. "Sorry, I was probably on something."

"I wish I was," You dryly shrugged, completely serious just for him to laugh and crack a genuine grin.

"They're insufferable, aren't they?" He stepped closer, eyes sliding over you to properly assess you.

And yeah, you weren't Geto's actual girlfriend, but part of you wanted his best friend to like you. To still be seen as a person by him and not just the cash in your purse.

"At least you got to leave," You shrugged, forcing your lips to curl up in a small smile, despite the urge to chew on them. "My parents probably would've strangled me before I could sneak out the door."

They barely even let you live in your own apartment.

"Have you met Suguru's mom yet?" Gojo chirped. You shook your head, sneaking a peek up at him, his dark hair tied up so you could see the clench of his jaw, the discomfort in his face at his family being brought up.

"No, but it's not-"

"You'll love her, she makes the best-" Gojo started rambling, so easily warming up and consequently talking over you.

You shifted on your heels, unsure how to signal to Geto you hadn't intended to lead the conversation this way and that you weren't trying to insert yourself that deeply into his life.

All you thought was maybe people would like you more if he did. That he could open the doors that had been slammed in your face. Your last few months of freedom until your family tried to tie you to someone else you had no say in.

Sometimes though, you couldn't help but wonder if it'd be so bad to be taken care of. For someone to feel obligated to protect you.

"I'm running a little late, but uh, it's nice to meet you. Again," You laughed, short and light, pulling away from Geto and glancing between them.

For a second, you almost tricked yourself into thinking there was the slightest resistance there, that Geto hesitated over releasing you.

"What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow afternoon?" He asked instead, dark brows furrowed, studying your face like if he looked hard enough, he could find the answer there instead of having to listen to your voice.

"I can't, actually," You reluctantly admitted. "I'm working all day tomorrow."

Which was, well, interesting in itself.

You'd started working as Sukuna's receptionist almost as long as you'd been fake-dating Geto, and you hadn't decided which man was more challenging. You spent almost every night with the former, taking the late shift and helping him close up the shop, working on your assignments when there weren't any clients after you finished everything else he wanted you to do.

You liked feeling needed. Liked the simple work of scheduling appointments and ringing people up, breezing through the list of tasks he asked of you and bringing him a sandwich every day despite him scoffing at you that he hadn't been fucking serious.

At least he only ever scolded you if he had a reason. He was snippy and rude, grumbling at you over small mistakes, sure. But you'd been treated like shit enough times to know when someone meant it. And Sukuna was the kind of guy who wouldn't let anyone else disrespect you even if he'd call you a brat in the same breath.

Geto didn't have to say anything for you to see the question he'd surely be asking if Gojo wasn't there in the arch of his brow and his narrowed stare. You had a job?

"You should come to my party afterwards," Gojo eagerly invited, like he actually wanted you there.

"Yeah?" Your breath hitched, excitement you were a little embarrassed of burning through you.

Your first actual college party. Getting drunk and crawling into bed in a daze. Migraine-inducing music and crowded bodies. Whatever it entailed, you wanted it.

It was also item number one on your list of experiences you were trying to finish before your graduation date.

Some were easier. Skinny dipping. Playing a cheesy drinking game. Getting a piercing.

Others you were less confident in your ability to accomplish.

Losing your virginity without being wasted would probably be a tough one. You'd been kissed before, felt up by a few pricks in private school but had never made it past second base. You weren't delusional enough to think Geto would ever be interested in you like that. But you sorta hoped he'd make you more approachable, that someone else with at least half a heart would give you a chance if they thought he had.

"What time do you get off?" Geto asked, still playing the part of the good boyfriend. The type of guy who'd go out of his way to include you despite this being the first you heard about this party. "Want me to pick you up?"

A group of people started to squeeze by, and you had to step closer so they could get past, one of Geto's hands reflexively grabbing your wrist to tug you back into him. His other waving, a relaxed smirk on his lips, casually cool, but a piece of you was beginning to think all of it was practiced.

"I'll meet you there," You nodded, untangling yourself, the heat of him lingering on your skin even after you put more space between you. "Just text me the address."

"Don't you wanna go in together?" He asked, staring at you with yet another expression you couldn't read.

It was a little ironic, honestly. He sometimes left you with the impression he thought you were vain, stuck in your glass castle and looking down at everyone else. But from where you were standing, he was the one preoccupied with appearances.

"Your girlfriend is cute."

Geto huffed, barely containing his groan, eyes shut as he covered his face with his textbook.

He'd heard it a hundred times the past twenty four hours.

"Yeah?" He wryly replied.

Gojo could have you. Probably would've been happier to pretend to be whatever you wanted. Would've milked it and made a fool out of himself just to please you.

But Gojo didn't need money.

Wasn't that why you asked him instead? You knew Suguru was too broke to say no?

It wasn't like it was a secret he wasn't rich like Gojo. That he actually needed the scholarship he had - unlike you.

"Never seen her at a party before," Gojo commented, scribbling doodles where he was supposed to be taking notes.

"Don't think she's ever been to one," He shrugged.

It was painfully easy to see how eager you were to accept. To accommodate him like you were convinced one wrong word would make Gojo revoke the invitation.

He'd almost forgotten that you and Gojo were of the same breeding stock. Both of you just indulging in him because you could.

Geto knew he shouldn't be bitter about it. That neither of you could control your circumstances any more than he could control his.

But logic had nothing to do with the jealousy gutting him watching you chat with Gojo so casually when you were still so stilted with him.

He could admit some of his assumptions about you were off. You weren't snobby. It was closer to spacey, always distracted, off in your own head than right there next to him. Turning your face while you talked, catching yourself from biting and picking at your manicure every time you were nervous, which was a lot.

There were times where it was almost endearing, when you'd squeeze his hand for reassurance and didn't even realize it, or when you'd get excited over something simple, like him brushing the hair out of your face outside your class.

Still, you were spoiled. Noticably sheltered. Awkward in a blunt sort of way, sharp and rude without meaning to. Saying what you thought regardless of how it'd come out to others.

It wasn't hard to imagine how you'd ended up coming to him just for a human connection.

Which was why he really couldn't believe you had a job.

Was it some kind of internship set up by your parents? Another perk courtesy of nepotism? Or maybe you were an influencer or something?

He wouldn't know.

He'd blocked you on everything a few years ago.

Still, you chose to spend your Saturday working rather than with him.

"I'm a little surprised you started dating someone so close to graduation," Gojo noted, ripping out his sheet of notebook paper and tossing it across the table at him. "Especially her."

"She's different than I thought," He murmured. That much was true.

You weren't who he imagined.

Gojo opened his mouth, probably to mock him some more, but Geto spoke up again. "I bought my plane ticket."

Thanks to you.

"Good," Gojo grinned. "I was getting worried you changed your mind."

"Nah," Geto tried to sound unbothered. "Counting down the days."

"The fuck are you wearing?" Sukuna scoffed the second you pushed open the door, glancing up at his unimpressed scowl as his eyes slid over you.

"Is it too much?" You frowned, looking down at your admittedly short skirt and the low cut of your shirt. It clung to your skin, cleavage pushed up, but it wasn't like you were wearing lingerie. And he did tell you on your second day that he didn't give a shit what you wore - only after you showed up in business casual attire at first. "I'm supposed to go to a party tonight."

Sukuna sucked in his teeth, mouth twitching as he cocked a brow up.

"So you're trying to get laid?" He grumbled, his eyes flickering back down to your breasts like he'd forgotten you had them.

"No," You pouted. "I just thought this was cute."

"Close enough," He shrugged. It didn't sound like a compliment when he was grimacing at you one last time before glancing back over whatever folder he had spread out in front of him.

You walked around to his side of the counter, peeking over at his portfolio. His sketches were detailed, carefully drawn and even more beautiful when it was actually inked. Thick and thin lines expertly crafted and precisely placed, surprisingly nimble for someone who looked like they'd have a heavy hand.

So skilled and somehow still striving to be even better.

"I like that one," You murmured, pointing out a design you hadn't seen before. Probably a custom request.

"You like everything," He rolled his eyes.

"Not true," You protested, pulling it out of his hands and flipping through the pages to find the sketch of an ugly bird someone had paid him a criminal amount of money to permanently ink on their skin last week.

He threw you an annoyed look, pulling out the stool by the counter for you to sit on before grabbing the book and walking back to set up his station.

"You have three clients today," You called out, glancing over the names and times you had written down before digging out the sandwich you'd made him before heading over. He'd never told you how he liked it, only giving you varying nods or grunts of approval you used to judge his preferences.

And maybe it was just your good mood, but you'd added a slice of cake, something you'd stress-baked the night before, sitting pretty with pink icing in a glass container. You put both in the tiny fridge underneath your desk, having to move energy drinks out of the way to make both fit.

You'd fallen into your own routine here, distracting yourself from real life while you worked, answering phone calls and filling up Sukuna's schedule. Usually there was another guy that worked the shop with him to handle walk-ins, but Choso was out, so he had you tape a sign to the door just to comment on your shitty handwriting and re-do it himself.

He didn't take a bite until after his second client was finished, sitting on your stool and watching while you cleaned the windows, doing hand exercises to help his cramping fingers before he snagged the food from the fridge.

"What's this?" Sukuna grunted, scrunching his nose up as he examined the pink cake as if it was something he found in the trash.

"You don't know what cake is?" You huffed back sarcastically, your nerves already starting to fray from overthinking your plans for tonight, constantly glancing back at your outfit and wondering if it was too much after his previous comment.

"Why is it here?" He asked instead, and you could feel those intense eyes burning into your back.

"I made it," You mumbled.

And despite his attitude, he still finished both, only a few crumbs left and even washing the container in the sink after he finished.

He dug some quarters out of his pocket and slotted them into an old vending machine in the waiting room to get you a cold soda in return, setting it on the counter in front of you and popping open the tab before the walking away without a word.

"I can bring more if you liked it," You offered, barely hiding the hint of a smile creeping up on your face. You picked up the drink, taking a slow sip, the carbonation leaving a tingle on your tongue as you stole a peek over your shoulder at him.

He wasn't looking at you anyway, focused on wiping down his chair instead.

The bell attached to the door dinged, and your head snapped back to the front, already plastering on a smile and pushing through the greeting you practiced in the mirror a hundred times at home.

But the guy was the too busy staring at your tits to hear you.

"Um, hi?" You spoke louder, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you looked over at the time. "You're the three o'clock, right?"

"Uh-huh, sure," He brushed you off, clearly not listening. "You the new girl?"

"I started last week," You muttered, getting more apprehensive the closer he got, stopping only when his belt buckle was pressed against the opposite side of the counter. "I think Sukuna's almost ready for you."

"Yeah? You have a few minutes for me, sweetheart?" He propositioned you, positioning himself to get a peek down your shirt, and you almost gagged at the thick stench of cigarettes when he got too close.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand," You played dumb, pretending to scratch an itch on your collarbone just to try and cover up.

"I bet your boss wouldn't notice you taking a bathroom break for a few minutes," He chuckled, reaching over to graze fat fingertips over the back of your other hand, playing with the charms on your bracket before you pulled back. "Could make you feel real good, princess."

You physically recoiled back in repulsion, barely keeping your face straight when suddenly you felt the heavy presence of Sukuna behind you.

You didn't know how much he heard, but he scoffed.

"Get the fuck out of my shop," Sukuna snapped at him.

The guy groaned, already making some excuses and gesturing towards your tits before Sukuna was rounding the corner and grabbing him by the collar to toss him out.

"Asshole," He grunted under his breath when he shut and locked the door, ripping off the note and flipping the sign from open to closed.

"You didn't have to do that," You muttered, but he just waved it away.

"You're my employee."

Yeah, employee.

It was just one of his responsibilities.

You didn't know what to say. Or if he was just waiting for the guy to go or if he'd rather you just start closing up everything else.

Before you could ask, he was moving his keys and phones off his hoodie and tossing the thick bundle of fabric at you.

He didn't have to tell you to put it on before you were pulling it over your head, thankful to feel less vulnerable, less exposed.

It was stupid to think that showing even a sliver of yourself to anyone would bring anything other than trouble.

"I'll give it back Monday," You exhaled, drowning in the warmth of it, the spice in his cologne and the hint of sweetness under it.

"Keep it."

[sukubusss]

Dynamics

coɴтεɴт - MDNI, please have an age in bio when interacting, jjk x reader, very explicit, reader asks men to describe their relationship using porno titles, pretty degrading lmao

cнαrαcтεrѕ - Toji, Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Sukuna

an - I was scrolling through... various sites for inspiration for these and the things I saw HUUURHHFHG

[sukubusss]

★ asking roommate!sukuna if he’ll pretend to be your boyfriend

“What? No?”

At the moment, you’re both at a frat party you didn’t know the other would be at. If you knew Sukuna would be here you still would have gone but, judging by the look of complete and utter irritation on his face, he probably wouldn’t say the same. Actually, it was pretty funny to walk into the party, make eye contact with him and watch that ‘You’ve got to be fucking with me’ look manifest in his body language. 

What isn’t as funny is the weird guy in your lecture who can’t take a hint and keeps touching you. He’s here now and the shudders running up and down your body tells you very clearly he’s aware of your presence and has plans to do something about it. 

“Sukuna, please. I’ll owe you one.”

Sitting on a packed sofa, legs spread, he scowls up at you, piercings glinting with the movement. “I don’t need you to owe me one.”

“Sukuna, come on. You’re a scary motherfucker, just be touchy with me for a second and intimidate him.”

He takes a swig of his beer. “Put your big girl panties on and tell him to fuck off.”

Okay, so clearly he’s not going to change his mind anytime soon. Groaning, you stomp away from him and to your friends. You both walk over to the kitchen, intent to enjoy this party to the fullest. Shots go down in flashes, music blares and deafen, you sway and grind and laugh. Nothing will take away this burst of youth where recklessness meets lack of conceivable consequences. 

That’s what you think, anyway, until sweaty hands start rubbing your shoulders. You stiffen. 

“Aw, you didn’t need to wear something so slutty for me. You’ve already got my attention.”

You can’t see your friends anymore – there are too many people, too tightly packed together, the lights are too dim and the music too loud to do something about the body pressed up behind you. Hairs on your arm standing on end, you fight the disgust recoiling deep in your bones and firmly say, “I’m sorry, I’m really not interested. Please leave me alone.”

“Don’t be like that, baby. I see the way you look at me.” Gripping your hips, he tugs you hard back into him when you try to shuffle away. His clutch is punishing and his nails dig into your skin. You hiss. “Let’s go back to my place and I’ll show you a good time.”

Pulling you away with him, your friends disappear in the crowd. you’re powerless against his strength. He’s too eager, too clumsy, too drunk to even have any semblance of sense. Guys like him are dangerous. Guys like him get what they want. Guys like him don’t stop at ‘no.’ “Let me go! Let me fucking go!”

“Don’t be a bitc–”

“You hard of hearing or something?” Sukuna yanks the guys away by his collar, snatching him up like a puppy. “Get the fuck outta here before I beat your ass.”

The guy scoffs, forcing a bravado on. "Who the h-hell are you? This is none of your business; she's my girl."

Sukuna takes a step forward. A cruel sneer twists his face into something dark, something sinister, practically malevolent. "Yeah? Explain to me how she finds her way into my bed then."

People are whispering; they've noticed the scene playing out. Some are already getting their phones out to record, hoping for a fight. Others are taking a step back. They whisper your roommate's name like it's a curse. It reaches your creepy classmate even through his drunken stupor.

"S-shit." He raises his hands in surrender. "Listen man, I didn't know she's with you. I swear. I'll go, alright? Just forget about it."

Personally unsure why he switched up so quickly when he was doing a fine enough job pretending Sukuna's height itself wasn't pissy pants-inducing, you don't dare say a word that might bring his attention back to you. Instead, you huddle a little closer to your roommate, who doesn't shake you off when you pinch his shirt for comfort. Just like that, the guy that's been bothering you for weeks fades in the background, never to be seen again. Hopefully.

You sigh. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

He grunts. He’s about to leave, to go back to minding his own business and pretending he doesn’t know you, but then, as if he can’t really help it and he hates himself for it, he eyes you up and down. In that moment, whatever he sees, whatever assessment he makes of your appearance, contrasted with the scene you two find yourself in, urges him to say something that almost sounds painful, so unnatural, so alien to him it brings a shit-eating grin to your face. 

“I’m bored with this place. Let’s go…” He winces, rolling his shoulder back. “Let’s go home.”

[sukubusss]

He shouldnt be allowed to look this fine......... *sighs*

[sukubusss]

hihihi!! i admire your works sm i lobloblob ♡ i was hoping you could hear me out on a smau idea i got for the jjk men ^^ basically just their reaction on reader owning any of quan millz books.. If you dk him you could search him up on tiktok, dude's amazing honestly lmfao... It's alright if you don't wanna do it, but if you end up doing it thank you sm!! ><

Bookworm

coɴтεɴт - MDNI, please have an age in bio when interacting, jjk x reader, suggestive, jjk men finding readers Quan Millz book, Gojo being mean

cнαrαcтεrѕ - Nanami, Geto, Sukuna, Gojo, Toji

an - aaaa tysm for reading my works <33 I've seen some stuff about Quan Millz on tt but I've never read a book by him lmaoo. Dudes funny tho

[sukubusss]

"You're such a softie." You whisper, tracing the lines on his face with a gentle finger, occasionally brushing soft pink locks out of his face. Soft, courtesy of your hair care routine on Sukuna.

"Hm." Your voice reaches his ears, but it doesn't seem like your words registered in his mind. Because if he really did hear your words, he'd complain. Huff and puff, maybe even throw you off his lap.

(Throw is codeword for picking you up and putting you aside. Gently.)

Sukuna is leaned back on his throne, skulls and bone framing the two of you, and yet the atmosphere felt uncharacteristically soft. Quiet. Rare.

You smile, a mischievous glint in your eye. Fine, you'll get a reaction out of him either way.

Withdrawing your hands from his face and hair, you wait for the inevitable reaction.

One of Sukuna's eyes peak open, unimpressed. You innocently smile back. "What?"

"What do you mean 'what?'" He growled, previous relaxation bleeding away quicker than you could blink. All of his crimson eyes snap open, all of them effectively glaring at you.

"Whaaaat?" You repeat, giggling and leaning backwards when Sukuna's hands grip your waist in impatience.

He squints suspiciously at you. "You know what you did."

"Nuh-uh. You gotta tell me."

He scowls.

"Why do I have to tell you something you already know? Brat."

"But I don't know!" You were grinning, the face of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Sukuna glares impossibly harder at you, hands tightening on your waist in a silent threat. Unfortunately, you were not threatened. If anything, it simply egged you on.

"You gotta tell me what you want me to do, yknow." You huff in between giggles.

His face is contorted into a deep frown, although it looked like such a cute pout to you that you were half-tempted to just give in. No, no, you'll be strong. For a little bit.

"Your hands." He murmurs in between gritted teeth.

"what was that?"

"Your hands." He repeats. "Put them on my face. Do that thing you insist on doing." His voice comes out strained, held back by his ego. "Lest you start complaining."

"Me?" You raised an amused brow. "I'm the one that complains?"

"Yes, you." Sukuna concluded.

You roll your eyes, bring your hands to his face and squishing his cheeks, earning you a grumble from the pink-haired curse. "Whatever you say, 'Kuna."

A.N. I got so many requests to do but this man. This MANNN i cant get rid of him im sorry

[sukubusss]

BEST FRIEND!SUKUNA X READER

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?!”

“No.”

“Pretty please?!”

“Are you deaf? I said no.” Sukuna huffs, still not looking up from his laptop. You stomp your feet under the table like a petulant child before dramatically flopping your upper half onto said table and laying face down.

You pull your hood up over your head, huffing, puffing and grumbling against the table.

“Will you cut it out? You’re gonna get us kicked out of here.” Sukuna whisper yells, looking around the library for anyone watching your current tantrum. “Since when do you care about being kicked out of, well, anywhere really.” You eye him suspiciously, resting your chin on your hands looking up at him.

You watch his crimson eyes scan across the screen while he scratches his head, clearly reading something.

“Since the dumbass professor said I’m gonna be kicked out if I don’t get my grades up.” He mumbles, still not taking his eyes off the screen to even look at you. “So now I have to study. Can’t leave you here alone.” He says, finally sparing you a glance.

You’re about to smile, the words of your best friend touching your heart that he actually cares, that he actually wants to be near you. Something he never really admits.

“You’ll end up dead or something.” He finishes, eyes going back to his laptop. “Charming.” You roll your eyes at him. “Yet true.” He mumbles, clicking away at the keyboard. “You’re a dick.” “So I’ve been told.” He smirks.

“I can look after myself you know. Don’t need your scary ass following me everywhere.” You huff, sitting up and folding your arms over your chest.

Sukuna gives you a deadpan expression.

“Can look after yourself, yet, was just begging me to scare off your ex?” He asks with a raised brow, leaning back in his seat and pushing his laptop away.

You let out a scoff.

“That’s different. I just want the guy to take a hint that we aren’t getting back together.” You shrug. “But since he won’t and it’s bordering on harassment, I thought my dear old best friend would at least help me out.”

“Why’d you break up anyway?” Sukuna changes the subject, leaning back in his chair to stretch.

Your eyes can’t help but flit down to trail over where his shirt raises as he lifts his arms. Eyes greedily taking in the small amount of sculpted skin you can see, the small patch of hair peaking out above his jeans that makes you gulp.

“Dunno. Just lost feelings or whatever.” You murmur, eyes quickly shifting down and hands moving to fiddle with the strings of your hoodie. Sukuna just hums in response.

He watches you closely for a second. Your pouting lips and the blush covering your cheeks, as you play with the strings of his your hoodie like they’re the most fascinating things in the world.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” He grumbles.

He watches you slowly look up at him, a smile spreading across your face at your victory.

You’re a damn brat. You know he can never really say no to you.

“But when the kid pisses himself that’s your fault.” Sukuna shrugs. You let out a snort.

“Don’t go full psycho on him. Just tell him to leave me alone.” You tell him. “Pretty sure he’s already terrified of you so it won’t take much.”

Sukuna clutches his metaphorical pearls.

“Scared of lil ol’ me?” He pretends to be shocked, insulted, before a devious grin spreads across his face.

You can’t help but giggle at your best friend.

“Told you he was a waste of space to begin with.” Sukuna reminds you. “I know. I know.” You sigh.

All of the losers you’ve dated have been a waste of space. No one has ever been good enough for you.

No one except, well, maybe the man before you. The man who will never admit how he feels. He won’t do it. Won’t risk losing you altogether.

So for now, he’ll remain by your side as your best friend. The one you turn to in moments of need.

Just a lil something I wrote for funsies

[sukubusss]

Main Masterlist

Sukuna scoffed as he eyed the message you had sent 20 minutes ago. A simple picture of three boxes stacked up and the words "brought new bookshelves today :)" underneath it.

He expected you to ask him to build them up for you, but the three dots never appeared and you had just seen the "👍🏻" he replied. Going radio silent ever since. So he sneeared and as the good boyfriend he knows he can be, he put his toolbox in the backseat and drove to your house.

Even if he would rather die than admit, he enjoyed doing things for you. Knowing he's there to take care of things for you when you couldn't do them, filled his chest with male pride.

So he drove to your place, he was already going to spend the weekend there anyway, he could use it as an excuse to build those damned shelves for you. When he parked in front of your building, he grabbed the box and his bag. Walking silently to the elevator, ignoring the girls staring at him with heart eyes in the hall.

Sukuna could hear the music coming from your apartment, opening the door with the key you gave him just last week. He called for you, but the music was louder, so he walked to the room you were slowly transforming into your reading room, thousands of books scattered around in a huge fantasy mess.

"I'm here to fix them for you, brat." He said as he pushed the door open, raising his eyebrows in surprise as he saw you in his shirt and laced panties, bending over the shelve you were already building. The second one to be precise, the first standing tall and proud by your side, perfectly put together.

"Oh! Hi Kuna." You say as you turn to reach for another screw. Looking him up and down and stopping at the red box clutched between his fingers. "What's up with the toolbox?" He scoffed harder.

"I came to build them for you, since you're clearly too weak to do it yourself." You giggled in his face, turning around and looking at the clearly good job you've been doing so far.

"I think I can manage them Kuna, don't worry." He marched over to you, hand circling your waist and pulling you flush against his hard chest.

"What kind of men do you take me for, huh?" He growled in your face and you had to press your legs together as your cunt started to throb at his tone. "My woman won't build things herself. That's what I'm here for." His lips captured yours in a slow kiss, his fingers pressing hard against the flesh of your waist, making you breathless.

And that's how you ended sitting down on the floor, watching as he finished assembling the shelves for you, his muscles contracting while he worked, as somehow at some point, his shirt got discarded against the wall. You were almost drooling as you watched him, your cunt so soaked you were afraid it was leaking on the carpet underneath you.

He grunted as he moved the last one and positioned it against the wall per your request. Turning to you with a smirk. You quickly got back at your feet, rushing to him, your hands cupping his jaw.

"How can I ever thank you for that?" You coyly said and his smirk grew wider.

"Why don't you put that big mouth of yours to use?" You eagerly nodded, ending up on your knees in front of him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Tears welled in your eyes as you fought back the gag reflex and pushed him down even deeper, earning a satisfied growl from him.

His tattooed hand was tangled in your hair, guiding your movements up and down his shaft, drool spilling from the corner of your lips straight to his lap, he loved the sight since the first time you got on your knees for him.

"Such a brat. Couldn't keep your mouth shut and accept your man doing tasks for you." He grunted, angling his hips and hitting even deeper, making your head dizzy as less air filled your lungs, you tried to focus on breathing through your nose but everything was too much for you, so as he let you go, you gasped for air.

Your hand stroked his base, while you tried to compose yourself again, rose cheeks and sweat coating your forehead. You lowered again, giving him kitten licks on his tip, feeling the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

He watched your hand work him up, his cock twitching at your cold touch, he felt himself nearing the edge with each precise stroke you did, lowering your head once again and wrapping your swollen lips around him for the last time.

It was too much for him, the sight of you taking him fully, your little thighs trembling, he could smell the sweet aroma of your dripping cunt, desperate to bury deep his tongue inside you and having you rolling your eyes and panting for him, mumbling incoherent phrases as you came undone.

You felt the warmth fill your tongue, his cum dripping down your throat as you swallowed him, milking every drop he was giving you, moaning at the taste. Giving him a little bite to the tip, one that earned a hum of satisfaction for him. You let go of his cock, his huge hand coming to cup your red face.

"So pretty!" He said. "Maybe if you don't be such a brat next time and call me first instead of trying to do things yourself, I'll let you cum." He smirked, pulling you up to his lap. This would be a long night.

[sukubusss]

more for this au ❤︎ ꒰ criminal!sukuna ꒱

criminal!sukuna who you met during your senior year of high school, being the typical bad boy and good girl trope. you did pretty well, your grades always decent if not good and you typically stayed out of trouble whereas sukuna was the polar opposite.

criminal!sukuna who was every teacher’s nightmare, always found in detention. he had failing grades, with sport being the only subject he exceeded at. it wasn’t because he was dumb, he just rarely ever attended class. and when he did, he was causing mayhem.

criminal!sukuna who stereotypically, was then paired up with you in one of your classes for a school project, the good girl who the teachers had counted on to hopefully get his grades in check.

criminal!sukuna who then had his eyes set on you from that day, a cheeky smile on his face when he sat next to you. he spent weeks of his time working on this dumb project he had zero interest in for, but when it meant getting to spend time with you, then he didn’t mind at all.

criminal!sukuna who you knew had a bad boy reputation, making you very weary of giving into his advances. he was always kind to you though, always making an effort unlike the other boys in your school. but, you knew deep down a girl like you had no business getting involved with a guy like him.

criminal!sukuna who never stopped trying despite your gentle rejections. it wasn’t common for him to actually catch feelings for girls, let alone even like someone enough to be their friend. so, sukuna wasn’t gonna let this deter him. this man knew what he wanted - and that was you.

“c’mon, i’m not all bad, i promise. i’ll show you a real good time, and if your not fucking with me after that, i’ll leave you alone.”, he says to you with a tone so unusual for him. and when you finally agree, shutting your locker with a smile on your face despite the eye roll you gave him, he can’t help but feel a genuine smile make way on his face, with a feeling in his chest he’s never felt before.

criminal!sukuna who was to your surprise, such a gentleman. he showed you the real princess treatment you hadn’t received from standard guys in your year. he paid for every date, with beautiful red roses in his hands every time he saw you. she would even leave a hidden note attached for when you were alone, looking back at your smile as he walked away.

criminal!sukuna who knew he had to tell you the truth about him and everything he was involved in before making you his girlfriend. not the half assed answer everyone already knows, but the real truth about his background and his life growing up.

criminal!sukuna who eventually laid everything out to you, the night he could hopefully make you his girlfriend. he explained his childhood growing up, the horrible treatment he had to endure, to then how he got into the lifestyle he’s in. you knew he was doing shady shit on the side, but you never really realised just how deep in it he was. but your gently traces along his rough hands made him feel more at ease at the words fell from his lips.

criminal!sukuna who expected you to tell him that you didn’t want to be involved in that, which he would’ve understood despite how much he liked you. but, he was met with your glossy eyes and a reassuring touch on his hand when you told him that you didn’t care, that you cared only about him and how sorry you were he had to go through that.

criminal!sukuna who made you his girlfriend that night, kissing you with pure desperation and need. he had never felt so grateful for someone before, unable to show that with his words. so instead, he showed you physically - he wanted, no, needed to feel you in every way he could.

criminal!sukuna who was beyond shocked when you told him you were a virgin that night, but couldn’t help the way his cock hardened at the fact that he would be your first. he would be the first guy to show you what sex felt like, the guy to take your innocence.

criminal!sukuna who was so gentle, slowly stretching you out with his tip after sliding it through your glossy folds and teasing your clit. he didn’t want to hurt you, making sure to pay attention to every part of your body, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers as he whispered sweet praises and distracting you from the pop you felt when he finally slid himself in.

“relax f’me, yeah? you’re squeezing the fuck outta me. i don’t wanna cum yet.”, he says either a breathy laugh, placing gentle kisses down your neck.

criminal!sukuna who made sure to watch what touches made your back arch, or what pace had you babbling out pretty moans as you claw down his back. he wanted to know exactly what you liked, exactly what got you going. he wanted to make this night the most special for you.

criminal!sukuna who made you cum at least three times, only stopping when he saw your overstimulated figure and your tears of pleasure, kissing them away as he came on your stomach and whispered how good you were for him, how special he felt that he was your first.

criminal!sukuna who was truly yours after that. you had him wrapped around your little finger like a dog on a leash. he was so aware of it too, not caring one bit when he knew he had grown too attached to you by now.

criminal!sukuna who underestimated how much your different lives would clash, finding himself always making you worry when he came to your bedroom window with cuts and bruises, stinking of weed. or when he found himself in a heated argument with your dad after he had found out about your relationship. it was safe to say your dad despised him after that.

criminal!sukuna who despite how much you loved him, was causing too many problems in your life, finding yourself questioning if it was a good idea that you had even gotten together in the first place.

criminal!sukuna who knows this, knows how much of a bother he can be to you and your life. and unfortunately, when you came to him with tears in your eyes and a pitiful look on your face, he knew exactly the words that were about to come out of your mouth, his heart racing with an unfamiliar feeling.

“you know i love you, kuna. but, i just- i don’t think i can do this, anymore. i can’t be with you, anymore.”

[sukubusss]

TATT MY NAME ON YOU SO I KNOW IT’S REAL

short Drabble on Sukuna surprising you with a new tattoo.

He said he didn’t believe in forever. Didn’t believe in gods or promises or putting names on skin.

But then he showed up one night—shirt half unbuttoned, a fresh bandage stretched just beneath his collarbone.

You were lounging on his bed, legs crossed, nails painted red. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head when he tossed the shirt aside and peeled back the gauze.

Your name. Inked into his skin. Slanted, elegant, reckless. Just like the way you live. Just like the way he loves you.

“You’re kidding,” you whispered, sitting up slowly. “You actually did it?”

Sukuna didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, all sharp angles and sin, his fingers brushing over the edge of the fresh tattoo like it still burned.

“You said I wouldn’t,” he muttered.

“I didn’t think you would,” you breathed, reaching out, tracing the letters that marked him as yours.

He caught your wrist, pulled you closer.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” he said.

You smiled. “Neither do I.”

“But I wanted this,” he added, voice low—honest, for once. “Wanted something of you that doesn’t fade.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding in your chest.

“This doesn’t make you soft,” you said, half-teasing, trying to pull back into your usual game. “Just stupid.”

Sukuna grinned, the wickedness still there in the curl of his mouth, but softer now. Different.

“I’ve done worse for less,” he murmured, eyes locking with yours. “You? You’re the only thing I’ve ever let brand me.”

And when he kissed you—hot and rough, then slow like you were something worth memorizing—it felt like gravity. Like you were both falling and flying at once.

Because he wasn’t a man made for love. But for you? He made an exception. And wore it on his skin.

[sukubusss]

The Right Time - Sukuna x Reader - Chp. 9

Chp. 8 - Chp. 9 - Chp. 10

summary: Your life was blissfully chaotic. Being a single mom and raising a daughter with a bigger attitude than yours was a challenge, but you love every second of it. You decided to move to the city to be closer to work. You’ve been at your new apartment for about three weeks now and everything has been great. Until, your annoyingly hot neighbor decided to open his mouth.

cw: female reader, modern au (no curses), 18+, enemies(ish) to friends to lovers, mechanic!sukuna x librarian!reader, found family, slow burn, fluff, explicit smut, crack, angst, toxicity, Sukuna is emotionally constipated, Nobora is readers daughter, Choso and Yuji are Sukuna’s nephews, Toji is a present father in this, LOTS of family fluff, manga spoilers?

wc: 6.5k

chp warning: Sukuna POV, angst, LOTS of tension, toxicity, mentions of violence, miscommunication? ( I promise it is not for long), I’m putting Yorozu as a warning lmao

a/n: enjoy Sukuna silently crashing out <3

Now, Sukuna has never hit a woman before.

But oh, did he want to punch Yorozu’s stupid fucking face.

How fucking dare she come to his apartment acting like she still had any privilege in his life. How dare she stand there with that smug look, as if she knew him—knew anything about who he was now. Because she didn’t.

She never did.

It’s taking every single muscle in his body to hold back his anger right now. His jaw is clenched so tight it might snap. He can feel the tension radiating off him, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

And then there’s you.

You—who he just kissed like he was dying, like he was afraid he’d never get another chance. He would have kissed you for hours, would have done anything you let him, lost himself in you completely. But no—this fucking bitch had to interrupt the most perfect moment he’s had in years.

God he wants to hit her stupid face.

No. You do not need to go to jail right now.

Think of the boys.

Yorozu stands in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She’s dressed to kill, every inch of her radiating attitude. For a second, she doesn’t even notice you behind him—her gaze is locked on him, sharp and searching.

“Well, you’re home,” she says, her tone clipped. “Didn’t think you’d be answering your door these days.”

Sukuna feels you behind him, your presence a steady warmth at his back. He doesn’t move to block you—he doesn’t want to. He’s tired of hiding, tired of old ghosts lingering in his doorway.

“Go home, Yorozu.” His voice is flat, all patience gone.

She ignores him and finally acknowledges your presence. There’s a pause, then a slow, mocking smile spreads across her lips. “Oh. Didn’t realize you had company.”

Sukuna feels your hand slip into his, and he squeezes it, grounding himself. “Yeah, I do. So fucking leave.”

Yorozu’s gaze lingers on you and the looks down at your hands, then she turns back to Sukuna. “Didn’t peg you for the clingy type, Sukuna. Thought you liked your space.”

Sukuna tries to close the door, but Yorozu jams her foot in the threshold, forcing it back open. And Sukuna is really questioning going to jail at this moment.

What the fuck is her problem?

For a split second, he sees something raw flicker in Yorozu’s expression—something sharp and wounded. But she recovers fast, stepping closer, her words sharpened to cut.

She looks directly at you this time, “You really think you’re special? You’re just a placeholder. He’ll get bored, and when he does, don’t act surprised. Men like him don’t change for girls like you.”

Your eyes widen, and you let go of Sukuna’s hand, stepping forward. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you know nothing about me. And I doubt you do, but if you have any respect for Sukuna left, you’ll fucking leave.” You keep your voice low, mindful of the thin apartment walls, but the anger in your tone is unmistakable.

Oh she’s so hot.

He tries not to show the shock on his face, but it’s almost impossible. The fact that you’re standing up for him—of all people—is blowing his mind. You don’t even know the full story, and yet here you are, stepping in front of him, showing him you care just a little. It’s not helping his feelings for you at all. If anything, it’s making them worse—making them even harder to ignore.

Honestly, he could watch you go off on her all day. There’s something fierce and brilliant about you when you’re angry. But he knows if he doesn’t step in now, things will get out of hand. With Yorozu, it always does. He’s been in enough fights with her to know how quickly things can spiral. She’s always been bold, always pushed his buttons, but after the bar incident, he thought—hoped—she’d finally be done with him.

Of course not. Yorozu loves to prove him wrong.

Sukuna lets out a slow, frustrated sigh and gently pushes you behind him, stepping right up to Yorozu, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “Yorozu, you need to fucking leave. Right now. The kids will be back any second, and I don’t want them walking in on this.”

Yorozu just rolls her eyes, her words dripping with venom. “The kids have always been your fucking excuse.”

Your eyes widen at her comment, and Sukuna’s eye twitches.

Oh, now she’s fucking done it.

He was trying—really trying—to keep things civil. But with Yorozu, that’s nearly impossible. And now she’s dragging his boys into it, which is the one thing no one should do when it comes to Sukuna. It’s not just Yorozu, if anyone talked about his boys like that, he’d make sure they regretted it.

“Watch your fucking mouth, bitch,” he hisses, the words sharp and cold. Yorozu just laughs, unbothered.

She glances at you, her smirk cruel. “See? This is who he really is. He doesn’t respect anyone but himself. You really think he’s going to treat you any better?”

Your expression is unreadable, and Sukuna feels something inside him snap. He doesn’t want you to see him like this—doesn’t want you to see this side of him at all. But with Yorozu, it’s like she brings out the worst in him, every single time.

Before he can respond, Yorozu shoves at his chest, tears brimming in her eyes. Her voice cracks. “You know, I figured one day we’d be over. We could never work and I knew that. But I tried. I tried to make you happy. I tried to be what you wanted, but you never wanted to talk, you never accepted me for who I was. And then Jin died and you got worse, pushed me away and took those kids in and left me at the side!”

You take a step back, realizing this is a fight you shouldn’t be a part of. The air feels suffocating, heavy with old wounds and words left unsaid.

Sukuna steps passed you, closing the door behind Yorozu so the neighbors won’t hear more than they already have. The click of the latch is final, echoing in the hallway.

He draws a slow, shaking breath, glaring at her. “You think you tried? You never fucking tried. It was always your way or the highway. I did whatever you asked, whenever you wanted. I tried a relationship, but you’re right—I didn’t want to be with you. I can’t fucking stand to be with you anymore. And yeah, I fucking changed. You weren’t even there for me when Jin fucking died. Didn’t even go to his fucking funeral.”

Yorozu’s eyes widen, her face crumpling. “Oh, there you go, always throwing that up in my face. You only bring that up because you’re the reason he fucking died!” she screams, her voice raw.

You gasp softly, instinctively stepping back, concern and shock warring in your chest.

“You know damn fucking well-“ he takes a deep breath his eyes grow dark.

I’m not entertaining her shit any fucking longer.

Sukuna’s jaw clenches so hard it hurts. “Get the fuck out, Yorozu. I don’t want to see you ever the fuck again. I thought ignoring you and being a complete dick would push you away, but I forgot you like being treated like shit because that’s all you’ve ever known your whole fucking life. “

Tears spill down Yorozu’s cheeks as she tries to grab his shirt, desperate, but Sukuna swats her hand away and swings the door open wide.

“Fuck you, Sukuna!” She shouts.

And just his fucking luck, Toji and the kids appear at the top of the steps at that exact moment. They freeze at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and uncertain, taking in the chaos.

Toji’s instincts kick in immediately. He knows nothing good is happening here. Without missing a beat, he gently pulls the kids aside, murmuring something low and reassuring as he tries to distract them, shielding them from the worst of it.

Yorozu scoffs, wiping angrily at her face, her movements sharp and furious. She storms down the hallway, heels striking the floor in staccato bursts that echo like gunshots. Toji and the kids watch her go, confusion and concern etched across their faces, then their gaze shifts uncertainly to Sukuna.

The kids stay quiet, just as Toji instructed, their small hands gripping his as they inch closer to you and Sukuna. There’s a heavy, awkward silence—one that seems to press down on everyone in the hall.

Sukuna is barely holding himself together. His face is a tight mask of pain and fury, jaw still clenched, eyes burning with something raw and dangerous. He’s fighting the urge to scream, to break down, to let the anger consume him. When the kids approach, he finally turns to you. His voice is rough, ragged around the edges, betraying just how close he is to losing control.

“Are you—”

“I need a minute with the boys,” he says coldly, cutting you off.

You stare at him for a moment, searching his eyes, then nod silently, understanding. Toji appears at the door, looking bewildered, and you give him a nervous, apologetic glance. Sukuna gathers the boys, ushering them inside and shutting the door behind them. You quickly open your own door, grabbing Nobara’s hand and motioning for Toji to follow.

Sukuna closes his door and lets out a long, shaky sigh, pressing his forehead to the cool wood. His hands are trembling, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the doorknob. The apartment feels hollow now, the echo of Yorozu’s words still bouncing off the walls, poisoning the air.

“I don’t like her,” Yuji says flatly, breaking the heavy silence that’s settled over the room. He stands in the living room, arms folded tightly across his chest, his expression serious—far too serious for someone his age. There’s a stubborn set to his jaw, a quiet defiance in his eyes. Reminding sukuna too much of himself.

Sukuna manages a tired, crooked smile, running a hand through his hair as if trying to smooth away the tension. “Me neither, bud,” he admits, his voice softer than usual, tinged with exhaustion.

He’s only brought Yorozu around the boys a handful of times—and that was years ago. Even then, she was never truly kind to them. Sure, she’d put on a polite face when Sukuna was looking, but there was always something bitter and forced about it. More often than not, she acted like she had something to prove, her jealousy simmering just beneath the surface whenever she was around them.

Sukuna has always tried his best to keep that kind of toxicity away from them. He wants them to grow up right—to be raised with love. He might be rough around the edges, might not always say the right thing, but he’d never willingly put the boys in harm’s way. Protecting them is the one thing he refuses to compromise on.

Choso, always the sensitive one, glances up at him with wide, worried eyes. Without a word, he slips his small hand into Sukuna’s, squeezing gently, seeking reassurance. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, fragile and earnest.

Sukuna squeezes back, forcing himself to sound steady, to be the anchor they need. “Yeah,” he says, managing a reassuring smile. “Hey, how about we go see Grandpa for a bit? Maybe grab some ice cream on the way?”

Both boys nod eagerly, relief flickering across their faces. Sukuna musters a soft smile for them, then moves quickly, stuffing clothes and toothbrushes into a duffel bag with practiced efficiency. His mind is racing, heart pounding with leftover adrenaline and shame. He needs to get out—needs to breathe, to put distance between himself and the mess that just exploded in his home. He doesn’t want to take this out on anyone, especially not you. None of this is your fault. This is just his past, coming back to haunt him, and he refuses to let it poison the good things he’s finally found.

As he heads out the door, his eyes flicker to your apartment. The hallway feels impossibly long, and his stomach twists with dread.

Fuck.

You probably think the worst of him now. You just watched him cuss out a woman you barely know, saw him at his ugliest. That’s what he gets for trying to be happy. He only has a few good things in life—why should he be greedy and try for more?

They walk to the car in silence, the boys unusually quiet, their small hands clutching his as if afraid he might disappear. On the drive to his father’s house, Sukuna’s mind churns with everything he wishes he could say to you. He’d wanted to wait before explaining his past, to let you get to know him before he laid it all out. But now he doesn’t have a fucking choice.

He feels like a coward for running away, but what else can he do? You’re probably talking to Toji about everything that happened, telling him who knows what. Maybe you’re rethinking everything. The best option is to give you space—let you have your time, even if it leaves him feeling hollow.

Meanwhile, your apartment feels too small, the air thick with nerves. You pace back and forth, chewing your nails, glancing at the clock every few minutes. Toji sits at your kitchen table, feet propped up, sipping a beer he shamelessly took from your fridge.

Nobara and Megumi are in the bedroom, their voices a constant, curious hum—sometimes giggling, sometimes whispering too quietly for you to make out. Their questions had been relentless until you and Toji bribed them with pizza and the promise of another slumber party just to get a moment of peace.

Toji finally breaks the silence, his voice low and direct. “Ya gonna tell me what the fuck happened?”

You glance toward the bedroom to make sure the kids are out of earshot, then sink onto the couch, shoulders sagging. “After you guys left, Sukuna took a shower and I tried to sleep a little longer. Then Yorozu just showed up out of nowhere.”

Toji nods, unsurprised, his eyes never leaving you. “Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t try that sooner.”

“They said a lot of shit,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. Your head aches, and you can still feel the ghost of Yorozu’s glare.

“What do you mean?”

“They were arguing about each other, and it got heated really fast.” You sigh, remembering the venom in Yorozu’s voice. “She tried to say shit to me, but I shut that down quick.”

“Yeah?” Toji raises a brow, a hint of pride in his voice.

You nod, a little proud yourself. “Did you hit her?” he asks, smirking.

You snort, rolling your eyes. “What? No! I just told her to fuck off, and that’s when she and Sukuna really went at it.”

You stare down at your hands, anxiety gnawing at your insides. The image of Sukuna’s face, twisted with anger, flashes in your mind. “Do you think Sukuna would’ve hit her?”

Toji laughs, shaking his head. “Sukuna knows how to throw a punch, but I’ve seen some of their fights. He wouldn’t hit her… unless she really deserved it.”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

“Jin’s Sukuna’s brother, right?”

Toji nods, his expression softening. “Yeah.”

“How did he pass away?”

“Car crash. That’s all I know,” Toji says quietly.

You nod, letting the silence settle between you for a moment. The hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of the kids playing are the only things keeping you tethered.

“We, uh, also made out,” you blurt suddenly, cheeks burning.

Toji nearly chokes on his beer, staring at you in disbelief. Before he can say anything, you rush on, voice barely above a whisper. “And I mean like, hardcore make out. It was intense. Did you know he has a tongue ring?”

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it,” Toji interrupts, waving a hand, but you can’t help but giggle, the tension finally breaking.

You groan and lay your head on the table. “Toji, I really like him.”

He sighs. “I know, pretty.”

“But I don’t want this toxic shit that he and Yorozu had—or have, or whatever the hell it is.”

Toji glances at you, serious now. “That’s what I was worried about. But I can’t lie, Sukuna doesn’t treat you like her. Not even close.”

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt.

“I’m not saying it’s right, the way he talks to her, but she’s not any better,” he adds, voice gentle.

You nod, then groan, laying your face back down, letting all the confusing emotions wash over you. You mumble something Toji can’t make out, and then there’s a knock at the door.

“The pizza’s here,” Toji announces, getting up to pay. The smell of melted cheese and tomato sauce fills the apartment as you both call the kids into the living room. Soon, Nobara and Megumi are putting on a dramatic performance of their latest favorite book, using couch cushions as props and making you laugh despite everything that just happened. You and Toji watch them perform as you stuffed your face with pizza and try to not let all the emotions consume you.

Sukuna makes sure to stop for ice cream before heading to his dad’s house. He watches the boys dig into their cones in the back seat, sticky smiles and chocolate smudges already forming, and tries to let their laughter soften the ache in his chest. He knows his dad is going to question everything—he’ll have to explain something, even if he doesn’t want to.

His relationship with his dad has always been complicated. Jin was the golden child, the one who always had his act together—college, steady job, the perfect son. Sukuna, on the other hand, was the bastard son—literally. Wasuke had cheated on Jin’s mom when he was four. She never took it out on Sukuna—thank God—but she did divorce Wasuke a few years later. She claimed it was because she’d fallen out of love, but everyone knew the real reason.

His own mother had given him up barely two weeks after he was born. Sukuna doesn’t know much beyond the fact that she never wanted a kid in the first place. She’d shown up at Wasuke’s door one morning, handed over a baby, and vanished from his life forever.

Jin’s mom was the closest thing Sukuna ever had to a mother. When she picked Jin up for her nights, she’d always take Sukuna too. She never treated him differently, never harbored any resentment. He doesn’t see her much anymore—the last time was on the third anniversary of Jin’s death.

So, with being the unwanted bastard son, never going to college, and having a reputation for disastrous relationships, Sukuna has always felt like a burden to his dad. Wasuke never said it outright, but sometimes the looks he gave Sukuna said it all.

And to put it bluntly, Sukuna does not want to fucking talk about his problems with his dad.

By the time he pulls up to Wasuke’s house, night has fallen. Sukuna doesn’t get out of the car at first. He just sits there and stares at the house he was raised in. The house is nice—a solid four-bedroom home that Wasuke built himself. He brags about it every chance he gets, proud of having started with nothing and making a good life as a construction worker. All he wanted was for his boys to learn from his mistakes and grow up and be successful.

Sukuna groans as he slowly moves to unbuckle himself. Choso is already unbuckling his seatbelt and helping Yuji, eager to get out. The boys race for the front door, and Sukuna grabs the duffel bag, his mind racing with excuses for why he’s here.

Why am I even here?

Oh, that’s right—to avoid his problems. Because he’s a coward. He’s not usually like this. Normally, he’d face things head-on with a big “fuck you.” But with you, it’s different. He’s ashamed, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Wasuke opens the door, eyes wide with surprise, but a smile breaks across his weathered face when he sees the boys. “Well, what a surprise,” he chuckles, stepping aside to let them barrel in. The boys make a beeline for their play room, laughter trailing behind them.

Wasuke turns to Sukuna, his expression shifting to concern. “What the hell did you come all the way over here for?”

Sukuna shrugs, trying to sound casual. “Just wanted to see you.”

Wasuke raises a skeptical brow. “Uh-huh.”

“I just needed a break,” Sukuna admits, voice low.

“From?” Wasuke presses.

Sukuna doesn’t answer, just looks away.

Wasuke sighs, heading to the fridge and pulling out two tall boys. He nods toward the back porch. “C’mon.”

Outside, Sukuna sits on the old wooden swing, the one he and Jin used to try and break when they were kids, daring each other to go higher and higher. The night air is cool, the backyard quiet except for the distant sound of the boys playing inside.

Wasuke cracks open his beer, settling beside Sukuna. “Now what’s wrong? You don’t just come here to say hi. You’ve been so busy lately with that pretty woman, I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Sukuna chuckles, taking a long sip from his beer. The silence stretches, heavy and expectant. His stomach knots.

“Do you think I killed Jin?” he blurts suddenly, the words hanging in the air like a curse.

Wasuke nearly spits out his beer, turning to stare at him. “Why the hell would you say that?”

Sukuna sighs, staring out at the backyard, remembering all the times he and Jin played out there until the sun went down. “Yorozu—”

“Oh, I see,” Wasuke interrupts with a chuckle.

Wasuke knows the fights between Yorozu and Sukuna all too well. He’s seen a couple firsthand. She’ll say whatever she can to hurt him—doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, as long as it lands.

Wasuke leans back, looking at Sukuna with a rare gentleness. “You know, you’ve done a lot of shit to give me gray hairs. But when you bought the shop, and took those boys in, I knew I raised you right. I’m proud of ya son.”

Sukuna blinks, surprised. He’s never heard his dad say anything like that. Sure, Wasuke shows he’s proud in his own way, but he’s never said it out loud.

“But—” Wasuke starts.

Sukuna smirks. “But?”

Wasuke raises a brow, sipping his beer. “I never liked that girl. She brought out the worst in you. Jin didn’t like her either.”

Sukuna huffs, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”

The two of them sit in silence for a while, the cool night air settling around them. The wooden swing creaks softly beneath their weight, and the faint sound of the boys’ laughter drifts through the open window. The porch light casts a gentle glow, painting long shadows across the weathered boards.

Sukuna takes another slow sip of his beer, letting the bitterness settle on his tongue. He doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence—there’s a kind of peace in just being here, side by side, no expectations or judgments. Wasuke leans back, his eyes half-closed, looking more relaxed than Sukuna has seen him in a long time.

A few moths dance around the porch light, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. The world feels small and safe for a moment, tucked away from all the chaos and questions waiting for Sukuna back at the apartment complex.

Finally, Sukuna clears his throat. “Hey, uh… think the boys and I could crash here tonight?”

Wasuke doesn’t even hesitate. He grunts, “’Course you can. The couch is all yours.”

Sukuna lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I figured.”

Wasuke glances at him, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re too damn big for that couch now, but it’ll build character.”

Sukuna snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, old man.”

They sit a while longer, just drinking in the quiet, letting the night surround them. Eventually, the boys finally run out to check on them, their laughter breaking the peaceful silence, and quickly join the adults on the swing. Yuji plops down onto Wasuke’s lap, his small frame fitting easily, while Choso squeezes in between the two men, pressing close for warmth. For a moment, Sukuna just sits there, watching them with a quiet sense of gratitude. Those boys never fail to make moments feel just a little better.

The next morning Sukuna wakes up to the pale gray light of early morning filtering through the living room window. His back aches from the too-short couch, and his neck is stiff from the way he’d twisted himself trying to get comfortable. He groans and rubs his eyes, feeling every bit as rough as he did the night before—maybe even worse. His mouth is dry, his head is pounding, and the heaviness in his chest hasn’t budged.

He sits up slowly, blinking at the ceiling, the quiet of his dad’s house pressing in on him. The boys are still asleep down the hall, their soft breathing the only sound in the house. For a moment, he just sits there, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

He reaches for his phone, half-hoping and half-dreading what he might see. The screen lights up, and he scrolls through his notifications. Nothing from you. No texts, no missed calls, not even a quick “Are you okay?” The silence is louder than any argument.

Sukuna stares at the screen, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. He wants to reach out, to explain, to apologize for the mess Yorozu made and the way he lost control. But something stops him. Maybe it’s pride, or maybe it’s fear—fear that you saw the worst of him and decided you wanted no part of it.

He tosses the phone onto the coffee table, scrubbing a hand over his face. The ache in his chest sharpens. What if you regret ever getting involved with him? Not that you were anything serious. Well, that’s up for debate. His dumbass called you guys “friends” which probably cemented him in the friend zone for good.

No. She wouldn't have kissed me like that.

He's confused and he's making it worse by thinking about anything right now. He leans back, staring at the ceiling again, fighting the urge to punch something. He’s never been good at this—at vulnerability, at letting people see the parts of him that aren’t strong or put-together. He’s always been the guy who takes the hit and keeps moving, but now, with you, he’s not sure how to move forward at all.

And what makes it worse is he goes almost a week without talking to you. Which, honestly, is destroying him a little bit.

Okay—a lot.

He isn’t even doing it on purpose. Sunday night, after leaving his dad’s, he’d had this whole plan: get the boys to bed, knock on your apartment door, and finally explain everything. He was ready to just word-vomit it all, to lay himself bare.

But that night, Yuji decided to crank his energy to eleven, bouncing off the walls until nearly 1 a.m. Sukuna silently vowed never to let that kid have soda again. By the time the apartment was quiet, Sukuna was too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed.

The next morning, he’d thought about catching you as you took Nobara to school—maybe you’d ask for him to take her to school with the boys or something to start mending the rift between you. But when he opened his door, Toji was already there, picking up Nobara. You and Toji acted as normal as possible, but Sukuna could feel the difference. You definitely talked about him—he couldn’t blame you for needing to vent to your best friend. But what stung was how you barely looked at him, just said a quick “hi” and hurried off.

Damn it.

Tuesday, he’d run into you in the hallway, arms full of groceries. You both stopped, staring at each other for a long, silent moment. It felt like hours, both of you wanting to say something, but neither of you finding the words. He managed a weak smile and walked past, leaving you standing there, the air thick with everything unsaid.

God, I’m a fucking idiot.

He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this. He should just pull up his big boy pants and face you. It’s not even his fault, well—he’d always planned to tell you about his past eventually, just… not four months into being friends. He didn’t think you had any feelings for him until you kissed him back, and now everything is unraveling. He’s never wanted to run from something so badly, and yet, he’s never wanted to fix something even more.

Maybe Toji’s right—maybe Sukuna really doesn’t deserve you. The thought gnaws at him. He even considered calling Toji for advice, but he knows how that would go. Toji would just laugh, probably say something like, “Told ya so.” Sure, Toji’s his friend, but he’d never take Sukuna’s side over yours.

Sukuna and Toji are real with each other. They call each other out on their bullshit and they’re not afraid to say the truth. Toji didn’t believe that Sukuna could be nice to anyone, but then he saw how Sukuna treated you and didn’t know if it was for show or if he was being real.

He wasn’t just being kind to you to prove a point. He genuinely wanted to be around you and be a friend. He didn’t just want to fuck you. Yeah, that would be great, but that wasn’t his goal. And now any trust or understanding that he got from Toji with you probably is completely down the drain.

Now on to Wednesday, nothing could have stopped Sukuna from wanting to talk to you—except, getting fucking sick. Whatever bug you had, he caught it tenfold. He will never regret kissing you, but he definitely forgot you were sick in that moment.

Whatever, it was worth it.

He spent the day throwing up, unable to breathe out of his left nostril, and suffering the worst headache of his life. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Every step you took felt like lead and all he wanted to do was sleep.

The boys saw his state when he picked them up and they were immediately worried. They know their uncle is tougher than most, but when he had to pull over three times on their way home to throw up, they called their grandpa.

Wasuke didn’t hesitate—he made Sukuna go to the doctor, get some medicine, and then took the boys off his hands for the rest of the week. Wasuke would never say it out loud, but he could see how miserable Sukuna was, and tried to help in the only way he knew how.

Thursday and Friday blurred together in a haze of fever and exhaustion. Sukuna barely left his bed, convinced he was dying. He’d hoped he’d bounce back after a day or two, like you had, but instead, he just got worse. Every movement made his head pound, so he look laid there in the dark, drifting in and out of restless sleep.

By Saturday morning, he finally felt a little better. That medicine was actually working. He dragged himself out of bed, took a desperately needed shower, and managed to eat a bowl of cereal without getting sick. It felt like progress.

The first thing he did after that was head straight to your apartment. Even while sick, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you, about everything left unsaid. All he wanted was a chance to fix things.

He knocked on your door for like three fucking minutes, stubbornly hoping you’d answer. Eventually, he had to admit defeat—either you weren’t home, or you were ignoring him.

Now it’s time to distract himself.

He spent the rest of the day trying to piece himself back together. He drank as many electrolytes and as much water as he could stomach, and even forced himself through a light workout, hoping to sweat out the last of the illness. He texted his dad to say he’d pick up the boys tomorrow, made himself a simple dinner, and went to bed early.

Sunday came, and he still didn’t see you. It felt like the universe was conspiring against him. He picked up the boys from Wasuke’s, hoping maybe he’d run into you in the hallway, but you were nowhere to be found. When he got home, you still weren’t there. He tried to focus on the boys, to enjoy their company, but thoughts of you lingered at the back of his mind.

He tells himself that if space is what you need, he’ll give it to you—he’s been telling himself that all week. He knows he’s been busy, and you have your own life too. Maybe this is just how things are right now.

And now it’s Monday.

Work offers no escape. No matter how many oil changes, inspections, or spark plugs he works on, nothing can quiet his mind. You’re there, in every silent moment, every lull in conversation, every time he glances at his phone and sees nothing from you.

And then, just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, you pull up to his shop. His heart drops to his ass. There’s only thirty minutes left in the workday, and all his employees are busy, so of course, he has to help you. Not that he doesn’t want to—he’s just being a big baby about it.

Why the hell is she here?

Then he remembers: about a month ago, he’d reminded you that your car needed an oil change and made you an appointment himself. He regrets that right now.

“Hey,” you say shyly, tossing him your keys.

Sukuna nods, avoiding eye contact. The air between you is so thick it’s hard to breathe. He wants to hide in a hole and never be seen again.

“You can wait in my office. I’ll be done in like thirty minutes,” he mutters.

You nod and walk away, and he watches you for far too long before snapping himself out of it. He throws himself into the work, making sure your oil change is perfect, topping off your fluids, even putting air in your back tire. He wipes down your dashboard and leaves your car cleaner than he found it, pouring every ounce of his anxiety and regret into the task.

When he finally walks into his office, you’re sitting in his chair, looking at the photos pinned to the corkboard behind his desk. You look up in surprise and smile. “You and Jin look like twins.”

He chuckles, feeling a bittersweet pang. “Yeah, everyone’s said that since we were little. Can you believe he was the older brother?”

Your eyes widen, just a little, as you look up at him. “Wow, you could’ve fooled me.” There’s a nervous giggle in your voice, and for a split second, Sukuna wants to lean in and kiss you again— he knows that would be a horrible decision at the moment, but it is a nice thought.

You turn your attention back to the photos on the wall, scanning them with a raised brow. “Who’s this?” you ask, tapping a picture of someone with striking white hair.

“Oh, that’s Uraume,” Sukuna says, stepping a bit closer, suddenly hyper-aware of the shrinking space between you. He glances at the photo, then at you, his voice a little too casual. “They’re my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

You nod, but your confusion is obvious. “How come I’ve never met them?”

“They’re in France right now,” Sukuna explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some elite cooking school. Total prodigy. They’ll be back soon, though.”

You nod again, but the silence that follows is heavy—awkward, almost suffocating. You glance through a few more pictures, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sukuna’s life. He watches you for a moment, but then his body betrays him and he lets out the biggest sneeze of his life. The sound is loud and abrupt, making both of you jump.

You glance at him, your expression softening. “You got sick because of me, didn’t you?”

Sukuna tries to play it off with a chuckle, but it comes out strained. “Worth it and I’m much better than I was a couple days ago.” he says, voice rough. You frown and roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of guilt on your face.

He clears his throat, searching for an escape. “Well, your car’s ready,” he says, tossing you the keys. He lingers by the door, arms crossed, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You catch the keys and walk over to him. “Don’t even try to tell me I don’t have to pay,” you say, your tone a little too sharp. “I already left money on your desk.”

Sukuna sighs, rolling his eyes, but then he realizes just how close you’re standing. For a moment, panic flares in his chest. He can’t tell if he wants to pull you in or run away.

He decides to step away and gives you a shy smile, “Well, I’ll see you later, baby—”

You frown, cutting him off. “No—”

“What?” he mumbles, caught off guard.

“You don’t get to do that,” you say, voice trembling with emotion.

He stares at you, stunned.

“You don’t get to call me ‘baby’ and act like everything’s fine and smile at me with that stupid face of yours when we haven’t talked about anything.”

God, she’s so hot.

“Listen—”

“No, you listen.” Your voice is firmer now, and your eyes are shining. “I understand you had every right to go off on her. I get that there’s far more than I know. I wanted to talk to you right after it happened, but I knew it wasn’t the right time. I was waiting for you, because it’s your business. I didn’t want to pry. I figured you needed space but I didn’t think you were gonna ignore me for over a fucking week!”

He just stares, speechless.

Say something you fucking idiot.

“You don’t get to kiss me like you did and then shut me out.”

You swallow, blinking back tears. “I like what we have, Sukuna. I still want to be your friend. I love your kids, and Nobara adores you guys.”

He steps closer, gently brushing away the tear that escapes down your cheek.

“Please don’t shut me out. Please just talk to me. That’s all I ask.” The pleading in your eyes is so apparent and clear.

Sukuna lets out a long breath, a small, grateful smile breaking through his nerves. He walks over to his desk, grabs his bike keys, and then, on impulse, takes your wrist in his hand. He pulls you gently out of the office, heart pounding.

“Wait—where are we going?” you ask, stumbling a little in your heels.

“To talk.”

summary: hello my lovelies! I hope you are having a fantastic week. I’ve been pretty busy and I just celebrated my anniversary with my boyfriend. it blows my mind we have been together for five years😳🙂‍↕️

BUT do not fear I will be posting again very soon. I initially planned to have this be a longer chapter but as I was writing, I realized I was already at twelve thousand words (and I wasn’t finished). so, we’re going to have a whole chapter dedicated to sad sukuna lore. it needs its own chapter anyway.

as always, please let me know how you felt about this chapter. I’m sorry it was a little shorter than the ones were used to. to be completely transparent, this is one of the hardest chapters I’ve written so far, but I still loved writing every second of it. okay, I’ll stop yapping!! love you guys, and I hope you enjoyed!

taglist is open: please comment and let me know if you want to be on it!! (:

@sukubusss @megumuro @puran-poli @emochosoluvr @poopooindamouf @tojiswifeforlife @bookfreakk

@withtanxp @fava-boi @not-aya @jkslvsnella @saltypuffin1040 @777pluto @bluemochii

@zeppelid @miakxn @iseeyouuu @storiesbyparadise @flowerpot113 @kunasthiast @mullermilkshake @nessca153

@bestwomanalive @bunbun444 @yourfalletedfish @drymayonnaise @shartnart1 @odysseusmom @your-mum3000 @caught-the-feels @jamangos @book0fdr3ams

@hoohoohope @satorrruuu @canary58143 @antikaiii @bub-ss

[sukubusss]

bathroom meetings

you were finally in the tub.

bubbles everywhere. hair piled up. candle lit. mood set was divine. perfect silence. peace. it was your me time. after a ridiculous week that felt like being hit repeatedly with a spreadsheet and then lit on fire, the only thing you wanted was solitude and maybe for your skin to absorb enough lavender oil to knock you out for twelve hours.

sukuna had been in full corporate tyrant mode the past few days. buried in meetings. constantly yelling into headsets like he was declaring war (he might’ve been).

there were moments you’d pass by the home office and hear him through the closed doors: “i said quarterly projections, not emotional projections. are you fucking with me?”

in that same low, terrifying voice he used when he was threatening that random guy on the street who once slapped your head thinking you were his friend. and obviously, that’s the tone that meant someone’s career was about to combust.

not that sukuna had been ignoring you, though. there were still sleepy kisses in the morning. half-asleep cuddles at night. coffee mug swaps between meetings. the quiet, steady kind of love. but you missed him. his annoying, smug, feral ass. just a little.  

so when the bathroom door creaked open mid-bath, you didn’t even flinch. you just knew. and yep, there he was.

dragging in his entire goddamn office chair. into the fucking bathroom.

yes, a literal, high-backed, leather executive monstrosity. the one he always dramatically called ‘the only chair that respects my spine.’ he wheeled it in like he was about to conduct a strategy meeting in your bubble sanctuary. and then he parked it casually beside the sink, facing you.    

you blinked at him from your lavender-scented cocoon of suds, “what the hell, babe… are you serious right now?”

“hi, baby,” he said, already settling into the seat like this was perfectly reasonable. “i wanna spend time with you. so i brought my chair.”

“…in the bathroom?”

“yeah, got a problem with it? you’re hot. the lighting’s warm. the air smells like that purple crap you love. it’s a vibe. this is my happy place.”

you stared at him. “you brought your chair.”

“‘course I did,” he said, already opening his laptop (he fucking brought one) and clicking away like this was just another thursday. “i’m swamped. figured i could do my stupid shit and look at you. productivity. efficiency. serotonin. and dopamine. win-win.”

you squinted at him. he never used that many words to justify something unless he was spiraling. which meant that he’s fucking really drained for today – an oddity. sukuna never gets drained. he had the chaotic stamina of a toddler with an espresso machine. weird visual, but whatever. 

“you just wanted to watch me and pretend it was multitasking.” you teased.

“baby, i don’t need to pretend to watch you,” sukuna replied without shame, eyes flicking down over your shoulders, lingering for a breath too long. “i’m your husband. it’s practically in the vows.”

you groaned and slid lower into the bubbles. “you’re so annoying. you have zero concept of personal space.”

“bold of you to say when i was balls deep in you last week,” he muttered, eyes back on the laptop screen.

you rolled your eyes. “rude. that was emotional love-making, actually.”

“you cried after,” he added helpfully, with a teasing grin this time, looking at you.

“i was overstimulated and exhausted!”

“from all the love,” he said, voice dropping slightly as he winked. “you looked so fuckin’ pretty like that, by the way. all whimpery and soft. should’ve taken a photo. mental health purposes.” he then turned back to his laptop and continued doing whatever shit he was doing like he hadn’t just shattered your dignity. 

“god, you’re insufferable,” you sighed, watching him lean back and spread his legs like he owned the damn place (he does). shirtless. and just in his boxers. basically, a menace in soft lighting.

“only for you,” he said, then paused, dragging his eyes down again. his fingers slowed on the keyboard. “you always sit like that in the tub when you want me to look.”

you froze slightly. “‘kuna, i’m literally just bathing.”

“uh-huh. with your knees poking out of the bubbles like that. water dripping down your collarbone. are we pretending you’re not trying to make me fail this report?”

you stared him down. “you’ve been shirtless all day. i haven’t said a word.”

“you bit me earlier. for no reason.”

“you were walking around with a pen in your mouth like a chew toy!”

he grinned and stretched out in the chair, legs wide, muscles relaxed. “ohhh, my bad, madame la professeur. je m’excuse.” his voice dipped, teasing. “would you prefer I recite conjugations again?” 

you choked on a laugh, bubbles shifting. “no... baby, stop. i don’t wanna heart it,” you said as you covered your ears.

“sweetheart, you threatened to drown me with a beret when i said ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi’ in class.”

“because you said it in front of the TA! and winked at me after saying that, who does that?”

“me, obviously. and now look at us,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, “still conjugating. still undressing with language.”

“gross.”

“grammatical,” he corrected smugly.

“anyway,” you huffed, “this was supposed to be sacred alone time.”

“correction,” he said, typing, “this is now sacred us time.”

“i can’t believe this is what my marriage looks like.”

he looked up again, glasses low on his nose. hair messy from a full day of stress-yanking (not love-making). dark eyes locked onto you like you were another report he was ready to manhandle. “consider me your emotional support office chair. i’m quiet. i click keys. i’m shirtless. it’s a wellness experience, brat.”

you gave him a deadpan look. “remind me again why you’re still doing reports when you own the entire damn company?”

“because my exec team is full of morons and apparently need their daddy to babysit the fucking budget.” he muttered, his eyes back on the screen.

“… so you really say that in meetings? ‘don’t worry, daddy’s here with the spreadsheets’?”

he gave you a withering look. “baby, don’t make me come over there and show you why they call me that.”

you sat up straighter, mock-scandalized. “you are not turning my bath into a boardroom kink.”

“oh, please,” he snorted. “you’d let me reorganize your filing system if i said that it in that voice.”

 “try me,” you puffed your cheeks and threatened, “i will throw a loofah at you. and for the record, ‘kuna? this is ambush. i was having sacred time, you bulldozer.”

“and yet… you married me.”

“temporarily lost judgment.”

“five-year lapse?”

you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “shut up. you’re ridiculous.”

“correct. and in love.” he said easily, shifting the laptop onto his other lap. and you let out a soft laugh at that because you know it’s true. 

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. just watched you, still half-soaked in warm light and bubbles. his eyes lingered, not with hunger and mischief, but with something softer. like he was memorizing. or making sure you’re here.

“you good, babe?” you asked.

he blinked, like coming back from wherever his head has gone. “yep, just…” he shrugged. “you’re the best part of the day, baby. seriously though, i missed you,” he said voice quieter now, like it didn’t just knock the air out of your lungs.

you blinked and froze a little. not because he said it, but because of how soft he said it. you rolled your eyes again, but your heart was already melting. “i’ve been busy. you’ve been busy. it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine,” he said, not looking up from the screen. “i like working. but i like you more. well, love. whatever, you know.”

that... shut you up a little. for a whole minute, even. you stared at him as candlelights softened the hard lines of his face. he was typing again, brows furrowed, but his jaw was tight.

“… okay, damn. for someone who threatened brad from finance with a stapler, that’s surprisingly romantic, ‘kuna.” you said quietly.

he cracked a small smile. “brad’s an idiot. you, on the other hand, are my peace.”

you were silent for a second and sighed out relief you’ve been wanting to let out for the past week. “well, you’re a clingy little bitch.”

“only for you, baby,” he said without missing a beat. then he smirked and cocked his head, eyes sliding over your shoulder, chest, legs – all barely hidden under the bubbles. 

“also, this bath is really doing things to my productivity levels. like, negative productivity. you gonna stand up at some point or do i have to pretend i dropped something in your bathwater?” he added, clearly back to his cocky self.

you threw the loofah at him. he caught it one-handed. “you’re such a menace.”

“only for you, brat,” he repeated again, softer this time. then added, “also, your left boob’s out. always a ten out of ten.”

“get out.”

“i just got comfortable,” he grinned. “and again… i’m your husband. my perving is legally protected.”

––

a/n: lol i went thru a writing slump last month and i can't think of anything – and thank heavens i've maxxed out my scrolling that i was able to come out of that coping (from a failed subject and delayed grad) lol so here's another husband!sukuna just bc and this ain't proofread

[sukubusss]

Sukuna x Blind!Reader (Part 3)

<- Previous

"My lord?"

"Hm."

It was a quiet night like any other night at your little house. Both of you sitting on the tatami mat, cups of tea in hand and you were leaning against him. Sukuna was going through your mother's poems quietly, occasionally reading one out loud to which you would smile.

You shifted slightly, taking a sip of your tea.

"Is it true that you have four arms and eyes?"

Sukuna's face twisted into a deep frown at that. What the hell kind of a question is that?

"I've been coming here for months, woman. How the hell have you not known what I look like? Especially since you have hard about me from others before." He said.

You pouted. "Well, those are just rumors! I... I wanted to ask you yourself so I know how to perceive you." You asked.

"Perceive me?"

You nodded and sat up straight, smiling in his direction. "I mean—how I should visualise you. In my mind, that is."

His frown didn't leave his face. In fact, it was more out of disbelief than frustration. The fact that he's been here, visiting you for months and you still didn't know what he looks like was astonishing.

Then he wondered... If he told you, will you be afraid of him? Will you back away the moment he confirms that the rumors of his appearance are true?

Will you curse his existence?

"What if I told you that the rumors you've heard about me are true?" Sukuna said, all four eyes focused on your face.

You hummed in thought. "Then I'd say... that it's so interesting that a man like you is a part of this world."

Part of this world.

"You don't belong here."

"Get away from me!"

"Demon! May the gods curse you for eternity!"

"Kill it now!"

"My lord?"

He snapped out of his thoughts. You were looking at his direction in worry. He was breathing heavily and you could tell.

He gritted his teeth in frustration. "You foolish woman."

You tilted your head in confusion but didn't comment any further.

Your little home was surrounded by silence again. The only sound coming from the cicadas outside. You don't know how long it lasted until—

"I have four arms and four eyes."

Your breath hitched as he spoke again. "Oh!"

"And two mouths. The other one is on my stomach."

"Oh." You smiled excitedly, eagerly listening to his description of himself.

"My body is covered in tattooes."

"The right side of my face is deformed."

"I have short hair and I prefer to keep it that way."

"Yes, I can speak with my second mouth." Sukuna said from the stomach on his mouth which completely threw you off as the direction of his voice just changed out of nowhere.

He kept all his eyes on you as he kept telling you about his appearance. But what he was looking for wasn't there. No fear, no disgust, no judgement.

Just never-ending curiosity and excitement.

And then somewhere along the way, you got brave enough to lift your hands towards him. A pink tint brushing your cheeks and a shy smile on your face.

"May I?"

You were getting nervous because he was quiet. Too quiet. You couldn't tell his reaction at all to your request.

But then you gasped when a very large hand circled around your wrist and brought your own hand up until your fingertips brushed against a rough, bone-like texture.

Your breath hitched as you delicately brushed your fingers across it. You felt it slowly, taking in this part of his face.

And then you brought your other hand up and placed it on the other side of his face.

You felt his breath hitch ever so slightly as your hands explored each and every feature of his. His nose, his jaw, his chin, his eyebrow and cheekbone. Your thumb delicately brushed against his lower eye lid.

Then he grabbed your wrists again.

"My tattooes." His voice was strained a bit, you noticed.

You bit your lip and nodded gently, letting him guide your fingertips. They started from his cheekbone, moving across his jaw and settling on his chin.

You kept the pattern in your memory. When he let you go, you brought your hands back up to his face and traced his tattooes. The way he had just showed you.

"My lord..." You whispered softly, resting your hand against his bone-like deformity again.

You smiled again, sweet and innocent with your cheeks flushed red. "You have a very handsome face, my lord."

And he was quiet just like before but you could feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

"And what makes you say that?"

He was closer than you realized. Your cheeks flushed even more.

"My mother once told me a story about a warrior..." You trailed off, getting distracted when you felt an arm snake around your waist.

Suddenly you were sitting on his lap and your heart went wild.

"Continue."

"She... She told me he was quite handsome because he had a sharp nose and a strong jawline."

"And you're saying I fit that description?"

"... Yes." You admitted shyly and felt his hand squeeze your waist.

"Tell me more."

You shuddered at his deep and rough voice, he was close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek.

"She also told me that he had thin and soft lips. That... When he kissed a woman, he would make her swoon until her legs give... out..." You bit your lip when you felt his lips against your cheek. They were curled up in an amused smirk.

"And you believe my lips would do that to a woman?"

"I... I don't know, my lord. I didn't get to explore that part of you."

And then, in less than a heartbeat, his lips were on you.

One arm possessive on your waist, the other on your back and a third one coming up to hold your jaw firmly.

And you kissed him back, eager and warm as you cradled his face in your hands.

You were sure that if you were standing at this very moment, your legs would have given out by now.

[sukubusss]

what you know - ch18: blinding lights || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). medical content. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.8k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

To admit that you’re working on a paper for college while at work feels like a crime of some sort.

Time theft, workplace misconduct… something that sounds far more serious than a student painstakingly trying to keep up with all of her responsibilities. It wouldn’t stand in a court for any sort of crime, to say the very least.

But it almost feels like it could.

At least, that’s what you think to yourself when you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of your boss’ voice from behind you as you’re hunched over your personal laptop, rather than your work laptop. When she calls for Yuki rather than you, relief courses through you.

Letting out a breath when the two women make their way to another office, you lean back in your office chair, letting your arms dangle loosely over the sides of the chair. You can’t really be certain what exactly has you so tightly wound with everything going on, but the least of your concerns should be your boss seeing schoolwork on your screen rather than actual work. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you’re on top of things at work and Maya won’t care, nothing seems to calm your nerves.

Resting your head against the back of your chair, you stare up at the ceiling as though that might help write your paper. The heavy fall of fast footsteps behind you alerts you to another presence, but something about the way the shoes scuff the floor with each trudge tells you everything you need to know about your new companion. This presence doesn’t have you on edge quite like your boss does.

A familiar pair of dim crimson eyes come into perspective, blocking your view of the ceiling as Sukuna leans over the back of your chair. He examines your expression for a moment, lingering on your slightly parted lips just long enough to confuse your poor heart again before he asks an easy question, with an even easier answer.

“Coffee?”

“God, please.”

He grunts in approval and spins your chair for you, waiting for you to head out in front of him. He’s close behind you, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks with that familiar disinterested expression that you’ve come to know from him.

As you walk alongside him, it’s easy to find yourself attempting to decipher the way he stares at the concrete beneath him, staring at nothing in particular.

Distant.

You wish that part of his expression wasn’t so familiar, but to your surprise, he seems to snap himself out of it, meeting your gaze with a somewhat level expression. This is the first time you’ve seen him since the events on Friday when he found the letter, and although he seemed a bit better over the texts you’ve exchanged since then, you’re surprised to find that he seems lighter in-person as well. His dark circles tell tales of demons he still battles at night, but right now he seems…

Okay.

“What are you workin’ on?” He queries as he tears his gaze away from you, staring blankly straight ahead.

Pausing at a crosswalk as you wait for the traffic light to change, your shoulders dip as you sigh. “A paper for my Public Relations and Marketing class.”

Eyeing you from his peripherals, your friend raises a brow. “Is this to make up for the paper you missed?”

You shake your head. “No, the prof still won’t let me do a make-up paper for that,” you pout, fiddling with the polish on your nails that’s clearly been picked at. “This one’s about a presentation that I missed, so I’ve been having a tough time,” you explain with a sigh.

As the traffic light changes and you step out into the crosswalk, Sukuna takes a moment to think before he takes a couple of long strides to catch up to you. “That’s my fault, huh?”

Your eyes widen as Sukuna pieces together just how far behind you’ve fallen by his hand, although it was never intentional on either of your parts. “No! No-” you shake your head, looking for something else to blame as though the pigeon pecking at a crumb of bread down the street might provide some sort of miraculous excuse.

“It’s fine, princess. I can take it.”

You frown, tilting your head up to take a look at him as he holds the cafe door open for you. “It’s not your fault,” you insist, a shiver running straight up your spine as Sukuna’s large hand finds the small of your back and remains there until you reach the line, when he finally drops it.

You blink to yourself, dazed by just how strangely sweet Sukuna is being, not to mention considerate. Your heart races as you begin to wonder just how long you can go trying to convince yourself that this all means nothing, when it’s getting harder by the day. Every little touch, every lingering stare on your lips, are you really reading too hard into it? You’re starting to wonder if you’ve been delusional this whole time to think the stray glances and affectionate touches are just for comfort when he’s going out of his way to be as much of a gentleman as Sukuna can be.

Those thoughts only muddle your brain more as you stare up at him with pursed lips and a small crease between your brow.

“Dunno how it wouldn’t be my fault,” he gruffs, oblivious to the way the small of your back still burns from his touch.

“I- um-” At a loss for words, you’re grateful when the cashier calls for the next customers. It doesn’t shock you when Sukuna orders and pays for you, though the signals he’s sending you are almost dizzying.

Before you have time to really spiral, though, something catches your attention.

“Can I grab a name for the order?” The man behind the counter queries, picking up a sharpie to hold up to both cups.

“Ryomen,” your friend gruffs, a hardened expression on his face.

As you make your way to the side of the counter to wait, you tilt your head up at him. You know he’s been struggling hearing the nickname that his brothers give him, but you’re the only one who calls him that. He hasn’t seemed too bothered by ‘Sukuna’ in full, so you can’t place what would have him choosing to give his first name to the cashier.

“Ryomen?” You find your words as your heart slows to a reasonable rate now that your thoughts aren’t occupied by the mixed signals you’re getting from him.

He sighs heavily, shrugging. “Tryin’ something,” he brushes your question off, though you can’t get a read on his thoughts.

“Would you rather I called you that, too?”

Pushing a hand through his hair, he shrugs again and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine,” he sighs, exasperated.

It’s easy to see just how much he’s still struggling with finding himself again, and as much as it kills you to see him growing so frustrated by the fact that he can’t seem to bear to hear the name his little brothers call him, something else sticks out.

He must be healing, to be willing to go by the name his dad chose for him. While the wounds surrounding the situation with his little brothers deepen, the scars caused by his father’s passing are healing. Four years, and he’s finally making peace with that loss. He’ll carry it with him for the rest of his life without a doubt, but maybe it won’t be so debilitating anymore. The letter may not be finished, but it said the words that Sukuna has needed to hear all this time.

“Okay,” you hum. “Ryo kinda has a nice ring to it,” you shrug as you recall what Toji still calls the ex-history major. “Or I can stick with Sukuna.”

“Whatever you want,” He grumbles, picking up his coffee as the employee sets it down, along with your order which Sukuna passes along to you.

Taking it from his hands, you shoot him a frown, but he’s already on his way out of the shop. “Okay, um-” you stammer as you catch up with his long strides, attempting to change the subject. “Have you had the chance to talk to your lawyer?”

Sukuna holds the door open for you, shaking his head. “She doesn’t work weekends. I sent her an email, though.”

Nodding along, you curiously peer up at him, taking a sip of your drink. “Thanks, by the way,” you grin, holding up your cup. He grunts before you continue your train of thought. “I know we kinda talked about it on Friday, but what’s your plan?”

“Keep looking for evidence,” Sukuna states with a renewed resolve. “I’m taking on evening shifts at the shop again, gonna put more time into shit with the lawyer,” he adds. “If nothin’ else, then I hit Kaori with a lawsuit for not letting me see my brothers.”

“The auto shop? I didn’t know you still worked there.”

“I took some time off with all the bullshit goin’ on,” he explains. “But I started back on Saturday.”

You nod slowly, glad to see he’s determined to fix things once more, but equally worried that he’ll overwork himself again. “That’s good to hear, Sukuna- or um- Ryo?” You test the name, tilting your head slightly in thought over the new nickname.

“Told you I don’t care,” he mumbles before taking a sip of his drink, eyeing you from his peripherals.

“Right,” you mumble, worrying your lip between your teeth. “Anyway, it’s good to hear that you’ve got a plan.”

He hums. “It’s… what my dad would want,” he mutters, staring down at the lid of his bitter coffee, tracing the ridges of the lid.

Smiling to yourself, you nod. The circumstances aren’t ideal, but he’s managing. He’s coping healthily, and while you can see he’s wearing himself thin with work and still equally lost, it’s just a relief to see that he’s trying. It’s all anyone can really ask of him.

It’s all you want to see from him.

“He’d be proud,” you agree.

With the way that your eyes shine as you look up at him, Sukuna actually believes you, too. His lips quirk up into just a hint of a smirk. So minute, you might even miss it if you weren’t so closely examining his expression.

He holds the door open as you reach your office, following you up to your floor and straight back to your office.

“Catch you at lunch?” He queries.

Your eyes widen slightly, but you nod.

He may be distant and not all there, but peeking through the cracks is the man you’ve grown to love. Those slivers of familiarity send relief coursing through you and for once, you’re able to actually focus on your (school) work with the knowledge that Sukuna is okay and he’s willing to put up a fight for his brothers, no matter what it takes.

–

Staring at your phone under the lecture hall desk, you squint at the image Sukuna has sent you.

Should you be focusing on your lecture? Yeah, probably.

Definitely.

2:34 PM Kuna || [2 image attachments]

2:34 PM Kuna || does the second one make you feel like i put more emphasis on the negative space

You continue to quint at the image under the table, chewing on your lip as you compare it to the first one.

2:38 PM You || I think so! Why?

2:39 PM Kuna || this client asked for another revision

2:39 PM Kuna || this is the 7th one

2:39 PM Kuna || losing my fucking mind

You bite back a smile in the middle of your lecture, tucking your phone back into your pocket. If his texts since Friday have made him seem relatively okay, his texts since your conversation yesterday have been downright lively.

Well, you know- as lively as Sukuna can be while struggling with the loss of his brothers and his own identity.

Your phone vibrates with a call, which you ignore without bothering to check it. It’s likely Sukuna, and you know what he’s working on, he’s okay. You should really focus.

Tapping your nail against one of the keys of your keyboard, you smooth your skirt and readjust your position in an effort to give your full attention to the professor that’s already scolded you for forgetting about an entire paper. You can’t afford to fall behind anymore when you’re already pouring all of your spare time into this class. You need the best score you can get if you don’t want to risk paying for this semester, or worse still, having your diploma withheld.

Your phone seems to have other plans, however. It begins vibrating again, signaling a call. You wait for your professor to turn towards the projector and quickly flip the screen up. Shoko’s contact stares back at you, causing your brow to furrow. She should know you’re in class, which has you wondering if it’s urgent.

Deciding to send a text just to check in on her, you decline the call and open your texts, only to be met with a message from her before you can send anything. The typing bubble is barely there for a second before ‘PICK UP’ is written across your screen. Anxiety rushes through your veins at the sight of the text and you quickly and quietly pack up, excusing yourself.

Your professor shoots you a disappointed side-eye, but you can handle that later.

Carefully shutting the door behind you, you don’t even get to redial Shoko’s number before her name is lighting up your screen again.

“Thank god,” she breathes when the line connects. “Where are you?”

“Shoko, I was in class,” you groan. “I’m at the Business Lecture Hall- what’s going on? Are you okay?” You ask, speeding through details to ensure your best friend’s alright.

“Oh shit, my bad. I thought you were between classes right now,” she mumbles. You can practically hear the wince in her voice over the phone at the realization that she’s pulled you out of yet another class, and you’ll need to make up for that time again. “Yeah, we’re fine,” she brushes you off. “Kento and I are on the way, stay put.”

She hangs up before you have a chance to question her. Bewildered, you blink at your screen as the call disconnects. What the hell? Shoko’s just about the most easy going person you spend time with, she’s never usually like this.

Sighing, you slip out of the lecture building out into the early spring sun. It’s finally beginning to warm up and you find yourself only needing a light jacket now at most, which is refreshing. Birds sing high above you, soaring through the thin layer of clouds and basking in the golden sun of the mid-afternoon. The trees rustle with each gust of wind, sending loose blossoms to the ground to the delight of the rodents scurrying along the ground.

Taking a seat on a bench in the sun, you bask in the warmth and let out a breath, attempting to hold back the concern that Shoko’s causing you. You have enough on your plate without drowning yourself in ‘what if’s in the short time it takes for her to reach your side.

You kick your feet out slightly as she comes within earshot from the direction of the Medical Faculty, along with a stoic Kento. “Hey-”

“Sukuna’s related to Noritoshi Kamo?” She questions, eyes wide with concern for you, while also dropping news on you that you… can’t say you’re aware of.

“What?”

“That asshole who runs Kamo Corp- Sukuna’s related to him? Doesn’t he know about your scholarship? Who the hell does he think he is to mess with you like that?” She throws questions at you left and right with no opportunity to get a grasp on them.

“Um-” your confused gaze shifts to Kento, whose expression has hardened, unreadable. Finding no answers in his expression, you lift your shoulders in uncertainty. “I don’t know? He’s never mentioned it, if he is.”

Shoko is a woman on a mission as she pulls her phone from her jean pocket, tapping a couple of times on the screen before flipping her phone towards you. Reaching out, you take it from her, reading the headline of the news article she’s pulled up on her screen. It’s dim, and difficult to read in the sun, so you attempt to block the light from your eyes with one hand to get a better view of it.

Noritoshi Kamo Debuts New Marriage and Kids During SXSW Conference Surprise Appearance!

Your throat tightens and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach as you slide your thumb down the screen. You’re faced with three familiar faces and one you’ve seen only on social media.

You suck in a hiss through your teeth as the photo sinks in. You recognize Noritoshi Kamo, the face of tech, innovation, and media, standing with an arm around none other than Kaori. Choso and Yuji are standing between them, both clearly trying to put on a brave face to the best of their abilities.

You’re almost certain both kids have had tailored clothes made for them, their hair done to perfection and from what you can tell they’ve even used makeup to hide the dark circles under Choso’s eyes.

Twelve. He’s twelve goddamn years old. And that makes you want to cry.

He looks tired. In fact, it makes him look a lot like Sukuna when his gaze is distant like that as he wraps an arm protectively around his little brother while also trying to cope, himself. Yuji is wide-eyed, that familiar childlike wonder plastered across his face as it always is, but there’s a crease between his brows as he barely manages to mask his confusion and discomfort.

Yuji may enjoy being the center of attention when it comes to school and his friends, but this isn’t a world he ever expressed any interest in. He likes attention, but when his version of attention is you, Sukuna, and Choso, or maybe a small group of school friends at most, you get the feeling this is overwhelming even for him.

And then there’s the burning anger and dismay you feel at the sight of Kaori’s wide and confident grin alongside her husband.

“Oh my god, my scholarship,” you whisper in horror as Shoko’s questions all finally click. Anxiety courses through you like a river, climbing your spine and forming a lump at the back of your throat that you can’t swallow. Between the horrified kids and the risk of losing not only your scholarship, but your diploma, your job, hell, even your parents’ approval… It’s a lot to take in.

You skim the article, which is made up of nothing more than commendations for the CEO that’s notorious for poor decisions and scummy business practices. It sings the praises of him marrying a ‘single mother taking care of two young children by herself’, all while going on and on about how cute and sweet the two kids are.

It makes you sick to your stomach as you finally lift your gaze to stare in bewilderment at Shoko.

“Sukuna’s not related to him,” you breathe, finally understanding where Shoko’s accusation is coming from, as well as the reasoning behind Kento’s hardened expression as he keeps all of Sukuna’s secrets to himself. “That’s his step-mom. She took the kids from him last week in court,” you murmur. You know it isn’t exactly your place to tell Shoko, but at this point the web of secrets that Sukuna’s weaved runs so deep it’s affecting not only you, the kids, Toji, and Uraume, but all of your friends. The last thing you need is another misunderstanding after the whole bar fiasco the other day.

You know Shoko’s just worried about your scholarship when it’s all you rant about throughout the week while you text, and at this point you’d rather she’s in on everything. Realistically, there’s no way to hide this from her anymore, and honestly? You could use her surprisingly cunning perspective. Especially now that you’re more involved than ever in the ever-unfolding disaster of Sukuna’s life.

Your scholarship isn’t just on the line anymore due to your grades, it’s hanging by a thread. As if the world wasn’t cruel enough on Sukuna, you know that if he realizes that you have a Kamo scholarship, he’ll feel guilty too, on top of everything else. He tried to protect you from Kaori as much as he could, but by complete happenstance, it seems you’re in her clutches now, too. Knowing what little you do about her, she’s well aware of her chokehold on you, as well.

“You’re kidding,” Shoko deadpans, her jaw slightly ajar with disbelief. “What happened?”

You can’t say for sure if telling her is the right answer. Sukuna’s kept this from everyone for a reason, but what are you supposed to do? You’re tangled so deeply in this too, now, and the writing’s on the wall- or, well, Shoko’s phone screen. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what exactly happened between Sukuna’s latest outburst and these photos.

Sighing as you concede, you stare down at your shoes. “This lady in the photo is the kids’ mom. Her name’s Kaori. She abandoned them all when um-” you chew on your lip, searching for a way to omit the fact that Sukuna’s dad’s dead, though you know Shoko can put the pieces together regardless. “- when they needed her most. She showed up a few months ago with a lawsuit to take guardianship from Sukuna.”

“And she won?” Shoko gapes at the revelation.

You nod bleakly. “She played dirty. All of her evidence and claims were fake, but Sukuna didn’t have any way to prove it. It was her word against his.”

“And she just so happens to be married to billionaire asshole Noritoshi Kamo,” your friend scoffs, shaking her head. “I was just scared he’d put your scholarship at risk after everything you did for him, I didn’t realize…” She trails off, shaking her head as reality sinks in for all three of you. Kento remains silent at Shoko’s side, though he appears to be pondering the situation, as well.

You grimace, taking in the photo on Shoko’s phone screen once more before returning it to her. “The kids look so scared,” you murmur.

“Do you suppose this is why she returned out of the blue?” Kento queries thoughtfully as he takes a seat on the bench beside you. “Sukuna didn’t seem convinced that she wanted the children for a good reason.”

Before you can reply, Shoko chimes in. “Hang on, are you and Sukuna buddies now?” She blinks in disbelief as Kento so casually mentions Sukuna.

“Not quite. Sukuna needed me to connect him with my friend in the law program,” he succinctly explains, leaning back against the bench and crossing his legs. “I figured it was better that you hear about this all from her rather than me, though.”

“I thought I missed, like, a major development somewhere along the way,” she chuckles. “Sorry, go on.”

You smile at Shoko before turning your attention back to the question at hand. “I mean… I don’t want to believe that’s the only reason,” you murmur, exchanging a concerned glance with each of your friends. “But after meeting her, I honestly think it might be.”

“You really think a mother would use her kids as publicity?” Shoko asks, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“You should have met her,” you shake your head at the mere thought. “Some of the things she said, the way she said them-” you shiver at the thought of her serpentine glare. “She’s the kind of person you see on TV and think they can’t be real,” you draw a comparison, sighing at the thought. “Yuji doesn’t even know her. She’s been gone almost as long as he’s been alive.”

Shoko groans in disgust. “And now they’re on the front page of Wired magazine.”

“This is a magazine too?”

Kento hums an affirmation. “That’s how I found the article,” he explains. “I intended to show Shoko an article I found in class about that Fintech that I applied to, but this was on the front page of their site.”

“God,” you gasp in horror. “Choso would never want this.”

“I’m willing to wager a bet neither of them do,” Kento tacks on. “I highly doubt Sukuna will take it well, either.”

And just when he was beginning to get a hold on his life.

You throw your head back in exasperation. “You’re right…” You can’t bear the thought of him trying to handle this on his own, either. “I’ll head over to his place tonight.”

“How’s he handling things, anyway?” Shoko grimaces. “His, uh, outburst at the bar makes more sense now that I know he lost the kids.”

“He’s actually been pretty good the last few days,” you reply thoughtfully, letting your gaze wander to the gnarled trunk of a big tree to your right. “I don’t think this will help, though,” you add, tapping your nails on the worn wood beneath your thighs.

Shoko hums in agreement and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket. The cheap lighter clicks a number of times despite visibly having fluid in the tank. “Stupid thing,” she mutters before it finally ignites. Sucking in a breath of nicotine, she exhales straight overhead to avoid getting smoke in either your or Kento’s faces.

“You know, given your program, you should know the risks-” Kento attempts to scold her.

“My major is exactly why I smoke,” Shoko interrupts, a knowing gleam in her eye. “That, and being friends with Satoru.”

That earns an amused chuckle from Kento, who sympathizes with that feeling.

Shoko lets out a puff of smoke off to the side. Silence settles over your friends as you find yourself focusing on the ember at the tip of Shoko’s cigarette. It burns like a setting sun with each inhalation, dimming when she holds it carefully between her fingers.

“You want a drag?” She asks, catching you staring.

You shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Is he trying to appeal? Could this not be considered solid evidence?” Kento points out, thoughtfully tapping his chin. “Between not knowing the identity of his step-mom’s husband, and SXSW-” he pauses, waving a hand pointedly through the air, “- I would say some form of child endangerment is involved.”

“I mean, probably,” you hum in agreement, “but I think the real issue now is getting a fair trial. Kamo Corp. is so involved in politics in every country,” you muse, “they practically own the courts, that’s how they get away with so much,” you point out, wrinkling your nose as you consider some of the horrifying accusations against the company you’ve seen over the years. Each time, they’re always swept under the rug, and somehow, poor Sukuna has gotten caught up in their crosshairs, soon to be another buried case. “He needs evidence that can’t be disputed. One little crack in the evidence and Kaori seemed to be able to find a way to fight it.”

“You think this could be disputed?” Shoko queries, pulling up her phone in one hand to stare down the article, while her cigarette dangles in the other hand. “The kids look scared. Even if Kamo Corp. owns the courts, anyone with a heart can see they’re not happy.”

“I don’t know…” you lean back against the bench, chewing on your lip. “The more I think about the trial, the more I don’t think Sukuna ever stood a chance,” you mumble, examining the thin clouds drifting overhead. “The look the judge gave Sukuna at the start, I thought it was just because of his tattoos at first, but…” you shake your head. “I’m not so sure, anymore.”

Kento crosses his arms over his chest. “Can you get in front of a jury, somehow?”

You shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know how that works.”

“Either way, this could be something, right?” Shoko asks, blowing a puff of smoke into the air.

“It’s the most hope we’ve had since he lost them,” you agree with a nod.

Shoko scrutinizes the brick over your head as she considers the repercussions on you of everything going on in Sukuna’s life. “What do you think are the odds his step-mom knows who you are? Do you think your scholarship’s fucked?”

Kento grimaces at your side as you sigh and shrug dramatically. “I wouldn’t put it past her to do her research. She gives me a bad feeling.”

“Well, shit.”

The laugh you crack at Shoko’s exclamation is humorless, nothing but a way to cope with the bleak revelations.

“This is quite the web you’ve gotten yourself caught up in,” Kento comments, a sympathetic thin-lipped smile aimed at you.

“Can you believe this is because of a project?” You chuckle to yourself. “At the start of this year, I swear my biggest worries were whether Sukuna would even show up for our project and now…” you shake your head. “What a mess.”

“Okay wait, can we talk about what the odds were of it being Kamo Corp that you have a scholarship from?” Shoko points out. “What the fuck is up with that?”

“I must have angered a god in a past life,” you laugh. “I can figure something out for that, though,” you sigh, rubbing a hand up and down your bicep. “I’ll take out a loan or something,” you murmur thoughtfully. “If my parents don’t kill me first.”

Kento frowns, setting a large hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll do my best to help however I can,” he offers. “I’d prefer knowing you don’t need to take out a loan,” he adds, being a finance major, and all.

“Me too,” Shoko nods fervently.

“Thanks, guys,” you grin at your closest friends. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It’s true,” Shoko agrees with a coy smile. “We’re the best.”

Kento blows a breath out from his nose, amused. “Humble, Shoko,” he teases, with a modest smirk that only Kento can make look as easy as he does. He turns his attention to you, reassuring. “Happy to be here for you. Even if that means the lot of you paint my nails more often than I’d prefer.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty,” Shoko teases. “You used to paint them yourself, you can’t convince me you’re spending any extra money on nail polish remover,” she snorts, dropping her cigarette to the pavement and crushing it beneath the sole of her shoes. “I bet you had some left over.”

“For the record, I just had to buy a new bottle,” he frowns, though the glimmer of amusement remains in his irises.

Shoko scoffs, though she shares a smile. “Oh, boohoo. I’ll send you four dollars.”

Kento rolls his eyes without scorn, an easy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “I’ll hold you to it.”

It’s little moments like these, small pockets between the madness you’ve found yourself launched into that help you keep your head above water. You’re grateful to your friends for their unwavering support, even if sometimes that means pulling you out of class under the guise that they would need to fight Sukuna for his involvement in your life. You’re glad that didn’t end up needing to be the case.

In fact, even as you watched Sukuna slowly lose himself to grief and fear, one thing remained steady and constant. Your friendship. He kept every promise he made to you, and even now, he continues to. No matter how deep his struggles become, he shows you at every turn that he’s learned from his mistakes and is trying to better himself from them.

He’s trying. And that’s all you could ever ask of him.

As Shoko continues to poke and prod at Kento beside you, purposefully getting under his skin, you find yourself smiling. Sure, you have just about the shittiest news to deliver to Sukuna, your scholarship is more than just on-the-line amongst other issues, but you have a great group of people looking out for you, and so does Sukuna, and that warms your heart.

–

You can tell you accidentally stressed Sukuna out with your text that you needed to talk to him. Admittedly, ‘Hey, can we talk?’ absolutely deserved the confused and distressed responses you received.

4:43 PM Kuna || ??

4:43 PM Kuna || im at work princess

4:44 PM Kuna || i have a shift at the shop after this til 10

And admittedly, accidentally forgetting to check your phone for an hour probably didn’t help, either.

5:03 PM Kuna || ??

5:09 PM Kuna || whats wrong

5:34 PM Kuna || christ youre stressing me out

5:49 PM Kuna || im not supposed to have my phone here

5:49 PM Kuna || fuck

5:50 PM Kuna || youre killing me

5:54 PM Kuna || do i need to call you

When you had finally finished catching up on the class that Shoko and Kento pulled you out of, it was only then that you realized you’d left him hanging.

5:58 PM You || Omg I’m so sorry

5:58 PM You || I’m okay!! Just need to show you something after work

You decide to keep the subject matter to yourself after reading through the slew of texts. If this is how he reacts to accidentally leaving him hanging for an hour, you don’t want to imagine how he’d handle the knowledge that what you have to show him is more serious than you’re letting on.

You show up about forty minutes after he said he would be home, well aware you’ll probably regret your late night outing tomorrow morning when you’re sitting in class. Given that the alternative is that Sukuna learns about Kaori’s motives at work tomorrow or happens to find it alone, this just seems like the better option.

He lets you into the building without question, opening the door to his unit for you before you’re even there as though he was waiting for you.

“Hey,” you greet him as you’re met with an immeasurable scowl.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that shit again,” he grumbles, clearly tired and grumpy. You can’t really blame him when you know you would have spiralled as well if he sent you something like that.

“Sorry,” you mumble, smiling apologetically at him.

He huffs, waving his hand to let you know to make yourself at home as if you don’t already know that. He pushes his hand through damp hair, having freshly showered with only a muscle shirt and a pair of sweats clinging to him.

“Want anything?” He asks as he pulls a protein drink of some sort out of the fridge.

“Um-” you pause in thought as Sukuna leans over and the deep-cut sleeveless top puts his abs on full display. Damn him for being stupidly hot. “No, that’s okay.”

He hums, plopping down on the couch and cracking his drink open. You follow shortly behind him, gingerly sitting beside him and pulling your phone out of your pocket.

“So, listen,” you begin, pulling the article up. Sukuna eyes you with a frown, straightening at the realization that this is meant to be a serious talk. “Sho and Ken pulled me aside today, they found this article, and um-” you suck in a breath “- I think it’s best if I just show you.”

You tilt the phone towards him. Setting his drink on the coffee table, he leans forward on his knees as he scrutinizes the article, taking the phone from you. He’s silent as he reads the headline, pausing as he instantly recognizes Kaori in the top of the photo. He knows what’s below, but he can hardly bring himself to scroll down.

Sure enough, there they are. Choso looks downright terrified, while Yuji just seems confused under the harsh camera flash. The poor boys are nothing more than accessories to one of the richest assholes on the planet, and Sukuna’s step-mother, deserving of a title far worse than even Noritoshi Kamo.

He stares, for a good long while, his grip on your phone growing increasingly shaky when he finally lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Attempting to center himself, he sucks in a breath again and scrolls down.

It takes him long enough to read through the article that you feel your own nerves ready to combust. You watch as he reaches the bottom and attempts to scroll down a couple of times to no avail, when finally he explodes.

“Fuck!” He snarls, dropping your phone on the couch and pushing to his feet. He accidentally knocks the coffee table forward before rounding the couches where he stands and stares out into the darkness outside the window.

You twist on the couch to get a better look at him. He’s facing away from you, his back rising and falling at a fast pace, when he suddenly twists on his heel and practically barrels towards the front door. He snatches his keys out of the little bowl they usually sit in, and is out the door before you can even process what just happened.

Blinking, you move quickly and follow him out into the hall, with no time to even worry about the unlocked door. “Sukuna!”

He falters only for a second, but he’s way ahead of you as he jogs down the stairs at a pace faster than you can manage on your shorter legs. You bound down the stairs behind him as quickly as you can, catching him only when he finally is forced to a halt once he reaches the dark parking lot and reality settles in.

“Where are you going?” You breathlessly question, managing to get a hold of the hem of his shirt to stop him from running off again.

His jaw hangs ajar as he gets his bearings, his grip on his keys turning his knuckles white. “She’s fucking using them,” he hisses, evaluating his surroundings as though he’s planning some sort of escape, but can’t place where to go.

“I know,” you murmur, sliding your hand from the hem of his shirt up to his spine in an attempt to soothe his distress. Safe to say that it doesn’t help much when he just uselessly shrugs.

“That fucking bitch, I can’t-” he pulls away from you, raking a hand through pink strands. He exhales loudly, lowering his hand from his hair as it balls into a fist, shaking with anger at his side. Each breath he takes is labored, a conscious effort to remember to inhale as he stares out at the parking lot. The light overhead has been flickering for months and continues to do so now, painting you both in intermittent darkness. With each loss of light, you swear you see another break in the facade that was once carefully crafted, now held together with duct tape and string. “What the fuck- What do I-?” He breathes out.

All of Sukuna’s thoughts point towards getting in the old family car and driving wherever he needs to be to spare his brothers the trauma of whatever the fuck this is that Kaori seems to think is acceptable. Sukuna’s no celebrity, he doesn’t know what it means to shield his eyes from the blinding attention of the paparazzi. He’s never had to bear the burden of hiding from the public eye and shield those he loves most from a tumultuous world of tabloids, press, and high expectations.

But then again, neither has Kaori. And it would seem that she doesn’t care to, either. If she did, she wouldn’t have put his little brothers on the front page of every technology news site for the world to see. She doesn’t care about their wellbeing. If she ever did, none of this would have happened. She would have left them all alone.

But that’s not the reality he lives in. He doesn’t get to be a hero, he doesn’t get to shield his brothers from that life. He doesn’t even get to be a part of their lives anymore. What the fuck is he even trying to do right now? He doesn’t have a car. He sold that for a stack of cash to pay off old medical debt. He doesn’t even have an address that he could run to. Kaori never gave him one after cancelling his visitation meeting.

And what would it matter, if she had given him one? His brothers aren’t even in the city. It’s hardly been two weeks and they’re at some conference, probably being ogled over by dozens of rich moguls, all looking to suck up to Mr. Kamo himself.

The keyring in his hands slips down around his middle finger, jingling as it dangles from the digit. Like a wind chime, the keys briefly break up the sounds of engines in the distance, the occasional screech of tires on asphalt, and a stray cricket or two as the metal keys clank at his side.

He lets out a breath, tension and frustration burning so hot that it sucks the air straight from his lungs. With his next inhalation mangled, he hunches slightly, shutting his eyes tightly and gritting his teeth in an effort to even himself out before he takes his frustration out on his poor lighter again.

In.

Out.

He breathes deeply, just like you would tell him to.

But fuck is he ever angry.

The anger, the pain, the guilt, it’s suffocating. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but his skin itches and crawls with the desire to turn tail and flee back into his apartment. His feet could take him right where he wants to be without so much as a second thought. The locked drawer at his bedside. The one where he keeps that stupid party favor mini bottle of Everclear, tucked under the letter from his father as the newest addition to the drawer, alongside a few blunts and a couple of bags of weed gummies.

But he shouldn’t. His mind and body scream two different things at him, so desperate to silence the thorns that dig deeper into his psyche, while also trying to be better. Trying to be the brother that keeps his promises, but he can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. The path winds and curves, and he swears with each step the air grows more shallow, further from any signs of a win.

You watch quietly as he sorts his thoughts, grateful when his breathing begins to even, but when he turns towards you, bathed in the soft glow of the flickering light and the moon overhead, you can tell that he doesn’t see a way out of this. Resigned to defeat, he seems lost again as he examines your expression.

“You know,” you take a step forward, “this isn’t such a bad thing for you, if you think about it.”

He shoots you a look somewhere between bewilderment and fury.

“No no no! I mean- It’s not good in general,” you backtrack, “I just mean like, it’s good for your case.” You wince at your fumbled explanation.

“How the fuck is this good for me?” He hisses, hoarse.

“Did you see those photos? Choso’s terrified. That’s gotta be enough of a push of child endangerment to get the kids back to you,” you point out.

Sukuna feels his blood run cold and his body shiver at the mention of Choso’s expression, but he doesn’t let it show. “Yeah, if I can somehow get back in a courtroom,” he scoffs. “Everything about the trial makes a lot more sense knowin’ what kind of money Kaori was using.”

The kind of money that runs countries.

He drags his hand through his hair with enough force to send a ripple of pain through his scalp. It distracts from the pain in his chest, at least. “She’ll fuckin’ pay someone to deny my appeal,” he mumbles.

“So you’re just gonna give up?” You shrug in dismay, casting a glance at the flickering light as it clicks and finally burns out, leaving you only in the dim glow of moonlight.

“I didn’t-” he sighs, dragging his fingers across his brow. “‘M not giving up,” he mutters. “This just seems like bad fucking news.”

“I mean, look at it this way. If you can get back in the courtroom, this is great evidence. Anyone can see how scared they are. Plus, maybe we can find something on when they started dating now that we know who her husband is, right?” You point out, craning your neck to get a better view of your friend’s face in the dim light. “Maybe we can find proof that she cheated on your dad.”

He blinks at you, sighing. He ponders your words, letting the sounds of the city drown out his less reassuring thoughts. “Yeah, I guess. I can talk to my lawyer tomorrow.” He rolls his shoulders, and you hear them crack with the movement as he makes his best attempt at easing the muscles in his shoulders. “Just wish I could go-” he motions uselessly in the air with his arm, his keys jingling before they fall back to his side. “I dunno. Pick them up, fix this shit without all the legal bullshit.” He stares out at the parking lot once more, lost in thought as the images of his brothers at the SXSW red carpet fill his mind.

“I know, me too,” you murmur, chewing on your lip. “Hey, why don’t we go for a walk?” You offer, hoping it might cure that itch to go somewhere. Maybe a change of scenery will take his mind off of things long enough for him to keep his sanity.

He ends up nodding, surrendering to the saccharine sweetness of your voice, although he didn’t hear a word you said. He simply follows as you beckon him out into the cool night air, just warm enough to not need a jacket.

He’s not sure it really matters what you said. You remain the light that guides him through the storm, and he’ll follow you through the dark no matter where you bring him. Even in moments where he attempts to pull away from you, he always finds himself back here, embracing the warm glow of your kindness.

Or is it your love?

He’s not sure.

He’s too cowardly to confront that possibility.

In an effort to keep both of your minds off the looming issues at hand and give the news a chance to sink in, you launch into a conversation about the book you’re editing. A picture book about a ladybug and a spider and their unconventional friendship. It’ll never cross Sukuna’s desk, since he only does covers, but you’ve been enjoying the series and figure it’s a light enough subject to keep his mind at bay.

He doesn’t have much to say, the occasional hum or grunt the only indication he gives that he is, in fact, listening.

You don’t mind, either way. Chattering like this offers you a much-needed distraction, too. It keeps your mind off the kids, and your scholarship. You know you shouldn’t keep to yourself the fact that it’s a Kamo scholarship, but you can only imagine all the ways Sukuna will find to blame himself for something he has less than no control over.

Sukuna keeps his eyes forward as you lead him on a walk to god-knows-where. You don’t know where you’re going and neither does he, making a mental map as you twist down pathways until you find a small open park to walk through.

Under the pale glow of moonlight, you look like a goddamn angel. He considers for a moment that in a sense you are. Like a guardian sent straight from heaven and dropped into his life to keep him from himself. He doesn’t think he deserves the kindness and respect you show him, but the feeling fluttering in his chest and stomach is one that he doesn’t squash. It’s welcome, in comparison to the debilitating crushing feeling he’s grown painfully accustomed to.

Within the gleam of your eyes, he sees something else, though. Something that squashes those stupid butterflies for him. He sees uncertainty, doubt, and weariness that nearly matches his own. You seem to be hiding it in favor of preserving… what, exactly? Sukuna’s well-being?

If he asks, he doesn’t think you’ll tell the truth. You’re no liar, but if it saves someone the hurt, you’ll skirt around the truth. He’s seen you do it before to spare his ego when talking with your friends, and he’s more than positive you’ll do it again if you deem it necessary.

What’s even more humiliating is that he still tries to ask, but as he opens his mouth, the words die on his tongue. He hates to think that you might lie, but somehow facing reality and giving him a straight answer hurts more. The endless pile of responsibilities looming over him already causes him so much pain, he’s not sure he can bear any more. How is he meant to carry on his shoulders the weight of knowing that you might be drowning silently beside him and he can’t fix that either, despite being right here with you?

How is he meant to carry that burden knowing that he caused it?

The late nights, the missed classes, the low grades, they’re all his fault. Have your parents called yet, angry? Has the school spoken to you yet about your scholarship? Would you even tell him, if he asked? He knows you hid from him the real reason that you forgot to hand in your paper to spare him the guilt. If you can’t even admit that, why would you give him a straight answer to any of your other questions?

He huffs suddenly. Why is he contemplating it anyway, when he’s too cowardly to ask if you’re okay?

You trail off from your tangent about Yuki’s tendency to gossip, your train of thought lost as Sukuna makes a show of his frustration. “What’s up?” You query, nudging him to grab his attention.

You gain his scowl, his eyes flickering around your face as if committing it to memory. “Too much shit going on right now,” he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No kidding,” you sigh. “I knew my last year would be busy, but this isn’t what I had in mind,” you chuckle.

Sukuna frowns. You would never pin the blame on him. You’re too sweet. So he does it himself. “I tried to keep you out of this shit,” he points out.

“It worked well,” you tease without a second thought, shooting him a pointed look with a little quirk of your lips.

He hums, and although he knows you’ll never place any blame on him (no, he’ll blame himself in place of you), he finds himself grateful that you’re so stubborn when it comes to him.

“Feeling any better?” You ask, softer now.

He pushes his hair back off of his forehead. “Right now I’m fine, but in the grand scheme o’ things, no,” he chuckles bitterly. “I can’t fucking believe she’s usin’ them. I can’t-” he huffs out a breath, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “Fuck,” he grumbles, dragging his hand down his face. Stubble left to grow for the third day scratches his palm, a reminder of just how behind he is on everything.

You offer an understanding smile. “I get it,” you reply softly, staring up at whatever stars are bright enough to shine even over the light pollution of the city. “It’s frustrating that politics and money have so much of an effect on something so simple.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief at your side as you manage to word his thoughts so eloquently. “You think she paid people off to make sure she won?”

You drag your foot on the ground as you take a step, staring thoughtfully into the trees that line the winding path you’re leading the way down. “I think…” You pause, considering the implication of what she would have needed to do in order to guarantee victory. “I do, honestly.” You narrow your eyes slightly, lowering your gaze to the ground. “I don’t think it ever really mattered that she brought Choso’s teacher into things. I think you lost before the trial started. His teacher was just a cover-up to make it look real, I bet.”

He nods slowly, rubbing at his eyes. “Pisses me off so fuckin’ much,” he hisses under his breath. “She fucking left!” He explodes suddenly, anger directed at no one in particular, though his hand collides with a massive tree as he flails it through the air. “Fuck!” He hisses, staring down at his hand to see the damage. Scrapes fall across his knuckles haphazardly where his hand collided with the bark, but not hard enough to draw blood.

He shakes his hand, but the pain only serves to piss him off more.

“Are you o-”

“She didn’t fucking answer!” He continues to snarl, his anger only rising as his hand now throbs with pain that he wants to write off as mild, but- “Christ, what the fuck?” He growls, staring down at his hand in the glow of a streetlight overhead. He flexes the digits twice, but he still doesn’t bleed.

“Are you okay, um- Ryo?”

His eyes flicker briefly up to you, unable to read what he’s thinking as you address him by his first name. He doesn’t press the issue much longer, fixated on his hand. “Hit it harder than I thought,” he mutters, inadvertently answering your question.

You take his hand, gently turning it towards the orange glow of the overhead lamp you’re standing under. No blood is a relief, just a few scrapes rubbing his skin raw, but he must have hit it hard based on the way his skin is beginning to shift to a dull purple already.

“It really jumped out and bit you, huh?” You murmur, mostly to yourself in a mildly teasing manner. Sukuna fixes you with a glare, but the tension that’s been making the veins in his forearms pop slowly begins to dissipate. At the realization that his frustration towards your teasing is quelling his anger towards the world and himself, you double down. “Need me to kiss it better?” You chide, doing your best to hide your giggles.

Sukuna’s stare intensifies, and for once he’s grateful to be surrounded by darkness, because now he’s pissed for an entirely different reason. He’s blushing.

Fiercely.

He’s never been so happy to be hidden by the blanket of the night as he is right now, blushing like a goddamn teenager.

Over some stupid teasing.

Teasing that shouldn’t- doesn’t- mean anything.

His anger is completely forgotten as he wrenches his hand from your hold, shaking it in an attempt to rid himself of the pain while he averts his gaze. He simmers in his newfound frustration while you burst into laughter at his side.

“It really came out of nowhere, didn’t it?” You manage to get out between your giggles, clutching at your stomach. He pins you with a furious side eye, but it doesn’t deter you. As your laughter slowly begins to die down, you wave your hand nonchalantly through the air. “No, I get it. It was a really small tree.”

“Are you done?” He grumbles, crimson eyes flickering across your features, which are now seemingly brighter than the glow of the light above. He swears he hasn’t seen you this happy in ages and for once, he can’t find it in himself to remain irritated with you, even if he’s at the center of your jokes. He sighs, resuming his steady pace down the path.

You jog to catch up, unable to help your grin. “Okay, okay. I’m done,” you give in, tilting your head up at him briefly to smile. His brow twitches as he watches, and you swear you can just barely make out a pale dusting of rosy red over his cheeks.

It’s nice to see a little life in him.

Sukuna casts his gaze over to you. Your eyes shine like they belong with the stars themselves as you look up at him and he finds himself turning to meet your gaze. He watches the way your jaw shifts slightly as you thoughtfully chew on the inside of your cheek. He’s seen you do it before, and wonders when he began noticing little details. 

He wonders what’s going through your mind, he even considers that you might just tell him the truth if he asked right now given your jovial expression. You don’t normally keep what’s making you happy to yourself. He likes that about you.

As if reading his mind, you tilt your head. That little head tilt that he thinks he’s grown too fond of and it sends his heart spiralling, throwing him off-kilter. His lips purse and he finds his pupils darting wildly around your face, settling on your lips. A scowl paints his expression once more as Uraume’s words come back to him and he finds himself second-guessing every touch and quip that he’s brushed off for the past couple of weeks.

His fist clenches at his side in growing frustration over his confusion when-

“You’re going gray, by the way.”

“... What?” He deflates, so baffled by your comment that every question and frustration growing within him dissolves in an instant.

You attempt to hide your smirk as you repeat yourself. “You’re going gray.”

While comforting words and lingering touches seem to put his anger temporarily at bay, teasing him like the back and forth you used to have months ago before all the drama actually seems to dissolve the tension in his body.

So, as you see frustration building in the crease of his brow, you decide to double down and tease him more.

And it works.

“The fuck?” He fixes you with a bewildered stare, but the tension in his muscles is completely gone. It’s not just a glimpse of the man you’ve grown to love that’s staring at you now, it’s him. In his entirety. Even if only for a moment, you find him. He finds himself.

Offense reads in the lines etched into his forehead, but his eyes read of playfulness. Genuine, and real.

“I noticed it when we went to grab coffee the other day,” you shrug.

“Why are you pointing it out?” He grumbles with what could almost be labelled as a pout.

“Mostly just to get a rise out of you and get your mind off of things,” you offer with a grin. “Is it working?”

Sukuna ignores your question, huffing. “So, to be a little shit?”

You can’t help your giggles as you grin. “Mmm, sure!”

“That’s it,” he grumbles, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and chest before you can protest. You grasp at his forearm, squeaking in surprise as he pulls you against him, playfully prodding and poking at your head, mockingly counting your gray hairs.

“Hey!” You manage through your laughter, attempting to pull out of his grasp and dodge his poking.

“One, two, three,” he counts, his tone turning somber as though he’s about to give you a bad diagnosis. “Damn. Your whole head will be gray by next week. Too bad,” you feel him shrug against you as he doesn’t so much as break a sweat from all of your writhing.

“Okay, okay!” You insist, pulling against his forearm again in an attempt to free yourself. “I’m done, I swear! I’m sorry!” You insist, unable to help your laughter even so.

He finally releases you, watching with a small smile as you regain your balance, fixing him with a playful glare as you smooth your hair. “Dick,” you murmur teasingly.

“Mhm,” he simply agrees, shoving his hands in his pockets as he takes his place at your side again, continuing down the path.

Though it’s all a temporary respite, he doesn’t feel so lost around you right now. You help more than you could ever know, and he’s not quite sure how to repay that debt.

With a content sigh, you both carry on down the path, getting further from his apartment. You chime in every now and then with random thoughts or details, just things to pass the time with no urgency. In truth, you’re just grateful that Sukuna didn’t take the news quite as poorly as you were anticipating. Of course, this is just the beginning of a bigger problem, but at least until he can speak with his lawyer, there’s hope.

More hope than there was yesterday.

Still, Sukuna notices a shift as you make your way up a path that leads back to the park where the tree attacked him. You’re getting quieter. Not the kind of content, serene quiet that he’s accustomed to from you either, you’re wearing out. Your feet drag, the soles of your shoes scuffing the pavement below as you send gravel flying every which way with each step. When a stray pebble hits Sukuna’s ankle, he raises a brow at you.

“What time’s your first class tomorrow?”

“Eight,” you yawn.

“Princess,” he sighs, pulling out his phone. “It’s two.”

“That’s okay,” you brush him off with a sleepy smile. “I’ll just have some coffee.”

He frowns. You smile with so much ease, as though the world isn’t pressing down around you too, by Sukuna’s hand. “We’re at least twenty minutes from your car and your place is still ten away from mine,” he points out.

“That’s alright,” you insist, yawning again. “I’ll live.”

The crease between his brows deepens. As hypocritical as it is of him, he pushes back. “Shit, no, you can’t keep doing this. Your scholarship-”

“Is fine,” you interrupt with the best smile you can muster. You continue to omit information about Kamo’s involvement in your schooling. At this point, you figure your scholarship is just fucked and that’s something that you’ll face when it comes to it. The most you can do now is just try to keep your grades up, and maybe if you’re lucky the school will jump in… or something.

It’s wishful thinking at best.

Sukuna sighs at your side. “Fine. Stay at mine, then.”

You nearly trip over your own feet, narrowly catching yourself. “What?” You query, blinking owlishly up at him.

Cute.

“Save yourself some sleep,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I-” you blink. Your laptop is in your car still so you could, but- “I have nothing to wear, and I’ll need to shower, and-”

They’re weak excuses and you both know it. “Relax, princess. I’ll take the couch, n’ you can raid my closet.”

“Your clothes won’t fit, I still won’t have anything to wear tomorrow for class, though-” you continue to hesitate, fiddling with your thumbs as you look down at the only outfit you have. After wearing this set of clothes to school already, you’re not sure you want to be seen wearing it again.

Sukuna blows a breath out through his nose in a hint of a laugh. “It’s one day. You’ll survive. Take a pair of sweats and a hoodie.”

“I- um-” You chew on your lip, heart hammering in your ears. Everything about this night so far, and Sukuna himself, it’s all so strangely intimate and you’re not sure what to make of the warmth he continues to show you, growing increasingly sweet with each moment. “I don’t-”

“Princess,” he interrupts. “Relax. No one will judge you for an oversized hoodie.”

You peer up at him from under your lashes. “I feel like ‘oversized’ is generous,” you mumble, making a motion from the top of your head to his.

He smirks at the comparison. “Just roll up the pants. It won’t be that noticeable.”

Breathing out a sigh, you finally give in. “Okay. Thanks, Ryo.”

His brow twitches, but he nods. Motioning for you to continue, he lets you take the lead back down the winding path that led you here, only chiming in when you seem uncertain of where you came from, unfamiliar with the area. Luckily, Sukuna’s been keeping track of the twists and turns you took. Your shoulders slump as you round the final corner to Sukuna’s apartment, grateful to be back.

As you near the front door, Sukuna shoves a hand in his pocket, pulling his keys out. He lets you into the main building, his hand settling on your lower back to keep your weary form moving forward. He tries to convince himself that’s the only reason that his hand subconsciously found a place on the small of your back.

He leads the way up to his door, fiddling with his keys, only for you to tiredly move past him and push through the door. He pauses, blinking at you.

“You didn’t lock it,” you explain.

He scratches the back of his neck as he follows after you, shutting the door and kicking his shoes off. He must have forgotten. “Guess I should get you a key,” he mutters to himself.

You purse your lips. Were this any other day, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it. It would have been helpful when you were here every other night looking after the kids, but now? What are you meant to make of it now? Before the question can leave your lips, Sukuna answers your question, though it seems almost as though he’s answering it for himself, rather than you.

“For when I get my brothers back.”

Right.

Of course.

Shuffling from side to side, you wait for Sukuna to lead the way towards his room. It’s not like you haven’t been in there, it’s not like you haven’t slept in there before, but you can’t bring yourself to barge in and raid his clothing. It just doesn’t feel right.

You follow closely behind him as he leads the way into his room, which is much messier than you’re accustomed to. It’s not dirty by any means, it just seems as though literally everything is out of place, or buried under laundry. This must be a product of his distant gazes and scattered thoughts. That, or he’s literally spending no time here and just can’t be bothered to clean it up.

Neither inspires much confidence.

He mutters a barely audible excuse to you, mentioning to mind your step as he pulls his closet open. There’s a handful of empty hangers which you’re sure is because those hoodies are strewn across the floor, and the rest of his closet consists of a wardrobe with half-open drawers and more black hoodies than you can count.

“What do you want?” He queries, moving aside for you to take a look.

You hum playfully. “I’m thinking maybe a black hoodie.”

“Smartass,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. He gives you a nudge. “Choose whatever.”

“For tonight, I think I’ll just do a T-shirt, but can I get a hoodie for tomorrow?”

Sukuna shrugs, pulling open a drawer with shirts that can just barely be called ‘folded’. You grab a black shirt on the top, holding it out in front of you only to realize it has no sleeves. You fold it again, setting it back in the drawer, only to need to follow suit with the next sleeveless shirt.

“Do you have anything with sleeves?”

“Uh-” he reaches over you, shuffling his hand through the pile until he finds an old and slightly smaller Metallica shirt with tour dates on the back, and hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you smile, tucking it under your arm before beginning to sift through his hoodies. “Did you see Metallica on tour?” You ask, searching through his hoodies. There’s a few blank black hoodies and a blank red one, a couple of older Vans designs, and boatloads of band logos and movie posters plastered across the fronts.

“Yeah, my dad took me a couple of years before he got sick. It got me more into music.”

You glance back at him with a soft smile. “Did he like classic rock?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “One of Toji n’ I’s friends had Guitar Hero growing up and I liked them a lot, so Dad got tickets,” he explains with a somewhat bittersweet half-smile.

Your heart warms at the thought of the two of them at a Metallica concert. “That sounds like fun,” you grin, deciding on a Vans hoodie with a small rose embroidered on the front and a large matching rose design on the back, somewhat reminiscent of an American Traditional tattoo. “This is cute,” you comment, holding it up to yourself. “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

He hums in acknowledgement, though he doesn’t say anything, watching you hold the baggy hoodie up to yourself as you calculate your options. If you just wear the leggings you have on right now with the hoodie, it makes a pretty cute outfit. You’d prefer different pants, but Sukuna’s a big guy and you’re not sure any amount of rolling them up can save an outfit based around his sweatpants.

“This should work,” you hum, satisfied. Gathering the clothes, you make your way to the washroom, sighing as you realize you have no toothbrush or makeup remover. You opt to just wash your makeup off to the best of your ability with water, which takes entirely too long and is way too much of a hassle, when your eyes slide down to the cup with toothbrushes in them.

Is that the toothbrush you used months ago when you stayed the night?

It has to be, it looks brand new and it’s identical to the one you pulled out from the packaging months ago. Pulling it from the cup, you smooth your finger over the grip, blinking as you open the washroom door and peek your head out.

Sukuna is sprawled across the couch, scowling at his phone with his legs hanging over the end of the piece of furniture, facing towards you. “Is this mine?”

He moves his phone aside, scowl disappearing as he squints at you. He can just barely make out that you’re holding a toothbrush, somewhat blurry from where he’s laying. Damn, his vision is getting bad. “Yeah. It’s yours.”

“You kept it?” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, some sort of deeper meaning hanging in the balance of your friendship with him. The idea that he kept your toothbrush, right next to his, even while you weren’t talking hangs stiffly around your question.

Hell, you didn’t think you’d see him again. He never once reached out, you have every reason to assume that he thought the same.

He swallows, catching the subtle shift of your tone as you question his intentions. What the hell is he supposed to say? He’s not even really sure why he kept it. Some nagging voice in the back of his mind seemed to stop him every time his hand hovered over that- your- toothbrush. So it remained in the cup like a cruel reminder of his shitty actions.

Having taken entirely too long to find an answer to your question, he shrugs and returns to his phone screen in an effort to brush it off. “Didn’t think about it.”

You blink a number of times, slowly inhaling as Sukuna nonchalantly returns his attention to his phone. Padding slowly back to the washroom, lit in a dull golden color with two of the three overhead bulbs burnt out, you find yourself questioning your sanity.

Is it really so crazy to find yourself questioning his intentions when all signs point towards him caring more than if you were just a friend? Would he have kept the toothbrush if it belonged to a different friend? Are you out of your mind to say that the answer is surely no?

You’re itching to text Shoko despite the fact that the entire reason you’re here in the first place is because you should really get some sleep. Maybe you’ll send her a text in the morning… or maybe you can just sleep off the weird doubts.

As you shut the door once more, Sukuna finds himself setting his phone on his chest and staring at the ceiling. He lets his arm dangle over the side of the couch, his knuckles laying on the ground.

He figures he won’t get much sleep on the couch, but it’s not like he would have gotten much more in his own bed. Sleep doesn’t come easily to him these days. His gaze flickers blankly across the ceiling, trained on nothing in particular as he yawns. His eyes fill with tears and he shuts them purely to stop the burning of being overtired.

He can hear you puttering around in the washroom, the sounds filling the apartment that’s been a void of silence lately. The shuffling and knocking of limbs on counters and feet across the tile floor on the other end of the apartment puts him strangely at ease. As if you’ve brought a semblance of life back to the apartment, something that he never realized just how badly he needed.

The ambient noise of your nightly routine- the sound of the tap running, the sound of your toothbrush clattering back into the cup, it’s reminiscent of the sounds of his brother’s getting ready. It lifts the heaviness of the eerie silence that usually hangs in the air, allowing him to forget for one night. No alcohol necessary. No cannabis, no melatonin.

Just the sensation of no longer being so alone.

His breathing evens, his lips parting just slightly as soft snores penetrate the air when you exit the washroom.

“Hey, thanks a-” you cut yourself off, lips pursed at the sight of Sukuna sound asleep already, limbs hanging off of the couch every which way and his phone resting on his chest. You smile softly, your heart warm as he’s finally able to get some rest.

Carefully, you tip-toe to his side, gently pulling his phone from his chest and setting it on the coffee table. You twist in search of a blanket to lay over him, slipping away to grab one from the closet where you know there are some extras, before returning to his side to drape it over him. Cautious not to move too fast or too loud, you position the blanket over his chest and smile to yourself as he remains sound asleep.

“Night, Ryo,” you whisper, your hand lingering on his chest enough to feel a pang in your heart. Pulling back, you slip away and shut the door to his bedroom. Shuffling out of your leggings, you slip under the covers, the scent of him hitting you like a truck after such a jarring revelation only a few minutes ago. Hints of cologne, the faint remnants of smoke that clings to his skin and an underlying musk so Sukuna that it can only be described as such.

Your heart twists in its cage as you reach for the charger you know he keeps on the nightstand, plugging your phone in and watching the screen light up with a notice that it’s charging. You’ll text Shoko tomorrow, but for now, you find yourself tucked into the covers, surrounded by everything that you long for, except for the man himself.

You let out a breath, rubbing your eyes as your thoughts spiral and you can’t help but feel as though your mind has betrayed you. You want so badly to wake up and feel the weight of an arm draped over your middle and the soft sounds of gentle snores filling the air. You want to flip over and see the way his features have softened, the edges not quite so sharp and the creases in his forehead flattened in the soft morning light.

As your mind conjures up far too real fantasies while surrounded by his belongings, you softly groan and flip onto your side, trying your best to get comfortable.

The temptation to reach out to Shoko grows by the minute, but she’s probably not even awake, and…

You sigh, rolling onto your other side.

Every day you find yourself questioning more and more whether Sukuna means more by his actions. He’s not exactly good with his words, you don’t really expect him to outright tell you if things have changed but… god, you wish he would. You can’t possibly risk the friendship that you’ve worked so hard to foster and support, because Sukuna needs the foundation you give him, but every lingering stare and warm touch threatens to buckle your knees.

And that stupid toothbrush. Are you really reading too much into it?

You can’t say for sure, but your dreams are certain to remind you of the turmoil you’ve found yourself in.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; hiiiii!! sorry for the delay, i wasn't positive where to split this chapter since i had a specific spot in mind of where this chapter would end but i got carried away as usual bahaha. so! i decided based on the fact that the next scene is already 1/3 of the length of a normal chapter and there's still a ways to go, that it made the most sense to split this chapter into two rather than make everyone wait. i still think the next one will be long anyway 🥴

as a heads' up, the next chapters will come out a bit slower as well. i'm getting a tattoo finished this friday, then have a couple of week-long trips for concerts coming up within a couple of weeks of one another throughout june and july. i'm hoping to get lots of writing done in between those trips, but we'll see what happens!

i've been writing this series for almost a year now (i started posting it a while after writing began) and i'm seriously blown away by all the love. i can't believe this little series that i thought would be a oneshot has become an almost 300k word series about a grumpy lil family. i love them sm and i love you all sm, thank you for your support and sticking with me, i promise there's some light at the end of the tunnel waiting for you all in the next couple of chapters.

anyway kaori sucks, i wanna write about sukuna and his brothers being happy i miss them they deserve better

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