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redtsundere-writes · 5 months ago

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Part 3: Blood Bath

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 2458 words.

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Sukuna left the castle a week ago. He set out for distant lands to conquer villages, eat its people and spread the terror on his behalf. This time, he had embarked on a journey to a nation full of curses in the southern part of the world to kill King Jogo. Since all his negotiations failed, Sukuna would take his lands into his own hands. If victorious, he would be king of two kingdoms. A great masterstroke for a single curse.

The absence of his frightening presence was noticeable in the magnificent palace. Peace reigned in the spotless marble hallways, the quiet kitchen and the solitary great hall. Despite not having the pressure of everything being perfect, the servants made sure the castle would shine in all its glory for the king's return. The servants walked around at their leisure, pretending they owned the place. They ate at whatever time they wanted, lay down to rest on the lawn of the parade ground, and talked loudly about the rumors that have been surfacing about your relationship with the terrible tyrant.

Recently, it had come to your attention that you were Sukuna's favorite servant, but no one knew exactly why. The consensus had concluded that it was because you were his mistress. Sukuna used to lock himself in his room with you for hours at a time and always came out with a broad smile. The truth is that you didn't sleep with him, you just gave him massages, fixed his outfits and sometimes talked for hours about the weather or his trips around the world. You tried several times to clear up the rumors, but no one believed you. Some believed you, a girl who had never shown any such double-mindedness, but there were many servants who were jealous that the king only treated you well. So, they trash talk behind your back.

It was a rainy summer afternoon. You and a small group of servants were cleaning the great hall, the largest room in the castle. Surrounded by white concrete columns that rose to the ceiling, you sternly swept the red carpet that indicated the center. Diamond chandeliers softly lit the place, statues of the king stood tall and the beautiful hand-painted mural raised on the ceiling harmonized the entire room. The drops fell softly against the giant window in which the green outside could be admired.

“When do you think our king will return?” One servant asked the other as they cleaned the decorative torches that rested on steel bases around the perimeter.

“He won't be long, he has to come back to his mistress,” the other one joked. They both let out small, annoying chuckles.

Those kinds of comments had become more recurrent as the days went by due to their new freedom. You knew they did it on purpose. They would raise their voices every time you entered the room or when you were about to go to sleep. None of the other servants seemed to want to intrude to keep what little peace they had. You slammed the broom down on the carpet hard to take out your frustration.

“How disgusting to be that monster's mistress, don't you think?” the other one asked. You could feel her piercing gaze on the back of your head, waiting for you to react to her uncalled-for comment.

“I know! I don't know how she can sleep with someone as creepy as our king,” she replied with disgust in her voice.

Those two had crossed the line. If you didn’t do something now, they would keep impudently poking fun at the king. You firmly grabbed the broomstick to confront them about their lousy topic of conversation. You approached them at a steady pace, dragging the broomstick in case you needed it as a weapon to defend yours and your king’s honor.

“That's enough!” you scolded. “I don't sleep with our king! Besides, he may be a monster, but thanks to him, we can eat fresh food, sleep in comfortable beds and live in a magnificent palace! If I were you, I'd stop barking, bitches!” You exploded after such a long time of having to put up with their out-of-place comments.

“Shut up! You're only defending him because you're his favorite whore!” One of them exclaimed, throwing the feather duster in your face.

“Yeah, shut the fuck up, who-!”

A fine cut echoed throughout the great hall. A large splash of blood fell on your face, blinding you for a couple of seconds. The slight gasp of surprise from the other servants left you speechless. You dropped the broom to scrub your eyes. What had happened? You backed up in desperation until you ran into a wall that wasn't there before. After a snap, it all made sense. You looked up to see Sukuna's sharp jaw. Dried blood tainted his skin, his breath was cut short from exhaustion. He was back home after conquering another empire successfully.

“Does anyone have anything else to say?” Sukuna asked the other servants, who were kneeling before him, giving him a warm welcome.

You knew you should kneel, but seeing the lifeless bodies of what used to be your gossiping companions froze your body. Their heads had been cut in half and the rest of their bodies were shattered in perfect small cubes. What used to be two women were now small pools of blood, bones and flesh. You could barely breathe before the stunning scene. Sukuna had erased their existence with just a couple of his fingers. It was a scene you never thought your eyes would see in the flesh. That would be your fate if you did not obey your master's orders.

“This is a reminder that I can get rid of you just as quickly,” he threatened. His thick voice echoed off the walls. “If I hear that you even dare to speak blasphemies about me or one of your companions, I will not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?” The servants, still kneeling, said, “Yes, my king,” in unison.

Coming out of your state of shock, you turned around to kneel at his feet. Sukuna looked at your small figure compared to him. He had heard how you had defended his honor in the face of annoying accusations. He knew you were a good servant, but now you had proven to him that you were something else.

“Welcome home, my king,” you greeted in a trembling voice. Your agitating body was still processing the murder your eyes had witnessed.

“Draw me a bath,” he ordered, brushing past your greeting.

“Yes, my king.” As soon as you felt his heavy footsteps walking away, you sighed from the depths of your soul.

You ran as fast as possible to his room to get there before him. Luckily, you had cleaned the bathroom thoroughly the day before, so everything was ready for the king to relax properly. You turned on the faucet to fill the tub with hot water, sprinkled scented bath salts, filled the water with bubbles and lit a few candles to romance the atmosphere. Sukuna soon arrived. Without a word, he began to undress as usual. Obediently, you stood in front of the wall to give him some privacy.

“Since when?” He asked you as he untied the knots of his garments and let them fall to the floor. You could only hear the soft fabric sliding down his Herculean body.

“I don't understand the question, my king,” you answered confusedly, looking at the wall full of black tiles reflecting the flames of the candles.

“How long have they been bothering you?” Sukuna completed the question while analyzing your figure from behind.

He could tell you were nervous in his presence. Even though you had spent quite a bit of time with him unlike others, you always played with your fingers and blushed in his presence. You also avoided his gaze, but that was because he ordered you to do so.

“Since a couple of months ago,” you answered.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Sukuna entered the bathtub, which was already bubbling. You closed the bath faucet and pulled a stool to begin the most complicated task, washing his hair.

“I didn't want to waste your time.” You prepared the utensils: a sponge, a small wooden bowl and glass bottles filled with the hair products.

“You don't dictate what I do with my time,” he replied sternly.

Sukuna stepped into the tub so you could easily reach his head, drowning his torso into the soapy water. With the help of a soft sponge, you wet his pale pink hair, taking care that the water did not enter his ears. The king closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the pleasant sensation after a week of consecutive massacres. Untangling his short hair with a wooden comb, avoiding pulling too much so as not to hurt him. You placed the shampoo directly on his head and massaged the product into the roots.

Sukuna hummed happily every time your fingers gently stroked his scalp. You were so gentle with him even though he was the worst monster ever. You scratched, stroked and massaged his skull to your heart's content. While you let the product work, you focused on his broad shoulders. Your hands roamed his upper body calmly and patiently. The king was tired from having fought day after day and night after night to leave his name high as the greatest conqueror, you could tell by how tense his skin was. He purred from the back of his throat as you pressed your thumbs against his skin to relieve him of stress.

“Answer me a question,” Sukuna asked with his eyes closed.

“As many as you wish, my king.”

“Are you loyal to me because you are afraid of me or because I am powerful?” He asked firmly.

“Both. I am afraid of you because you are powerful,” you replied as you took the bowl of water to rinse his hair.

Sukuna smiled, satisfied with your answer. That's why you were his favorite servant. You are a perfectionist, shrewd and perceptive. You always managed to surprise him differently every time. Something no woman had ever managed to do before. Sukuna twisted his torso to face you. Your face and your white clothes were inked with the blood of your companions. He couldn't let you work like that, after all, it's his fault you were stained.

“Take off your clothes and come in,” he ordered.

“What?” You asked, shocked.

“You're dirty. Come in. I won't repeat myself,” Sukuna demanded.

You nodded and started to undress before his eyes. He had seen hundreds of women undress before. He knows what a pair of striking breasts, sexy hips and long legs look like, but even so, he was mesmerized as he watched you unfold before his eyes. Each garment slid down your body delicately, your hairs bristled from the change in temperature and your nipples stood erect at the lustfulness. No one but your mother had ever seen you naked. You had never been with a man, let alone a monster as imposing as he was.

Sukuna held out his hand to help you into the large tub. You sat in front of him and covered your breasts with the glistening bubbles that floated around you. He took one of the sponges and soaked it with soap to gently clean your face. The now dried blood came off easily. His black claws sometimes slightly scratched your cheeks, but you could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible with your beautiful face.

“It's not necessary, I can do it myself,” you asked, trying to take the sponge from him.

“I can wash my own hair too, but I prefer you to do it. Let me do it,” he replied before filling the bowl with water and wetting your hair.

He repeated the same process as you. The warm water, the closeness of your bodies and his hands taking care of your hair, transported you to fantasies where you had a relationship beyond king-servant. They were romantic ideas of a Sukuna you didn't quite know. A Sukuna who hugged you every time he saw you, who gave you head pats every time you did something right, and who sat you on his wide lap, demanding attention.

Someone knocked on the door, to which Sukuna allowed access. It was Uraume, who had just heard that the king had returned and what had happened with the reckless maids. What they did not expect was to see you in the bathtub next to his majesty, but even so, they decided not to ask details of how they had come to that situation.

“Welcome home, your majesty.” Uraume bowed from the doorway. “Dinner is ready. You must be hungry after the long journey.”

“I'll be there in a minute,” Sukuna answered. Uraume bowed again and left the room.

“They won't say anything,” Sukuna assured you before getting out of the tub. You were about to get out to give him his towel too, but he stopped you. “The water is still hot, it would be a shame to waste it,” he said before taking the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

“It's my job to do it,” you said.

“Your job is to obey me,” he dictated seriously. You sat back down in the tub and nodded. “Good girl,” he said with a satisfied smile before leaving the bathroom.

Sukuna returned to the bedroom and looked in his closet for what he would wear to dinner. He glanced into the bathroom from time to time to observe you. A small naked human wrapped in the ethereal steam of her innocence. He could have any woman in the world. Why was his mind obsessed with your beauty, your words, and your docility? He didn't know exactly, but he was sure you were completely his, so he didn’t have anything to worry about.

You stood alone with your thoughts in the elegant bath. You plunged your body into the water, submerging your head in the bubbles. Heads cut in half, his big hands stroking your hair, brains strewn across the carpet, his gentle touch as he washed your face. The quick, deep images made you feel confused. Your head went back up to the surface as you realized you were short of breath. You brushed your wet hair back to take a deep breath. What were you doing? Where were you? What kind of person were you serving? Sukuna confused you with his actions, and now you didn't know what to do with your poor heart beating a mile a minute for him.

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kentobb · 1 month ago

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⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive content.

Chapter 02

Gojo walked out of his Spanish class with a triumphant grin plastered across his face, clutching a paper marked with a glaring red C minus. A low bar, sure, but for him, it was practically a victory lap. “Could’ve been worse,” he muttered to himself, the sting of mediocrity softened by the relief of not failing.

The hallway buzzed with chatter as students moved between classes. Gojo’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a familiar figure by the lockers. Geto was closing his locker with a casual thud, his posture as composed and commanding as ever.

“Yo,” Gojo called, his grin widening as he sauntered over.

Geto glanced up, greeting him with a firm clap on the back that resonated with unspoken camaraderie. “Practice is at seven,” he said, his tone cool and matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo waved him off, already falling into step beside him.

They walked together, weaving through the sea of students, when Gojo’s attention abruptly snagged on a particular sight: you, seated near the library entrance, your head bent over a book. The faintest smile curved his lips, unbidden and unmistakable.

Geto noticed instantly. He followed Gojo’s line of sight, his expression shifting into a sly smirk. Without warning, he bumped Gojo’s shoulder. “Seriously? Again?”

Gojo blinked, snapping out of his trance. “What?” he said, feigning innocence.

Geto gave him a knowing look, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You know what. When are you actually going to talk to her instead of just staring like a creep?”

“I’m not staring,” Gojo muttered, though his reddening ears betrayed him.

“Oh, my bad,” Geto teased, raising his hands mockingly. “Admiring from afar. Much more respectable.”

Gojo huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just… haven’t had the right opportunity, that’s all.”

Geto stopped walking and turned to face him fully, crossing his arms. “Are you serious? You’ve been in half her classes since freshman year. Opportunities have been handed to you.”

“It’s different,” Gojo insisted, his voice quieter now.

“Different how?” Geto asked, his smirk fading into something softer, more genuine. “You’ve been into her since middle school. What’s stopping you?”

Gojo hesitated, his gaze darting back toward the library. You were still there, blissfully unaware of his internal turmoil. “It’s… the whole social thing.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What does that even mean?”

Gojo sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me,” Geto said, his voice calm but firm.

Gojo hesitated again, then relented. “People like her don’t date people like me. It’s just… we’re in totally different worlds, you know?”

Geto stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not dumb!” Gojo shot back, his voice tinged with frustration. “Do you know what it’s like to get ripped apart for stepping out of line socially?”

Geto’s expression shifted slightly. He tilted his head, studying Gojo intently. “Is that what this is about? Mahito, Jogo, and Sukuna?”

Gojo shrugged, his jaw tightening. “You know how they are. And Sukuna—he’s been like a brother to me since we were kids, but he’s… different. He wouldn’t understand this.”

Geto leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed. “So what, you’re scared of Sukuna?”

Gojo bristled. “I’m not scared of him. I just… I can’t talk to him about this. He’d laugh. Or worse, he’d make it into some big joke.”

“And you think I wouldn’t?” Geto asked, one brow arching.

Gojo shook his head. “You’re different. You don’t… judge me for this stuff.”

Geto’s smirk returned, faint but genuine. “Of course I don’t. That’s what makes me the superior best friend.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, but his shoulders relaxed slightly.

Geto pushed off the wall and gestured toward the library with a tilt of his chin. “Look, man. She’s right there. You don’t have to pour your heart out or anything—just say hi. It’s not that hard.”

Gojo stared at the library doors, his feet rooted to the ground. “…What if she thinks I’m weird?”

“Then she thinks you’re weird,” Geto said bluntly. “You’ll survive. But who knows? Maybe she smiles. Maybe she talks to you. Maybe you’re not as hopeless as you think.”

Gojo shot him a skeptical look.

“Come on,” Geto urged. “One sentence. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Gojo exhaled deeply, his gaze flickering between the library and Geto. “…I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Geto groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Unbelievable.”

You stand up from the bench near the library, clutching your bag, your eyes catching a glimpse of Gojo and Geto standing together in the distance. They’re talking, but what unsettles you is how their gazes linger in your direction, like they’re sharing some private joke at your expense. It’s always been like this—Gojo’s stare, Geto’s smirk—it feels like they’re mocking you.

Your mind races, picking apart every possible reason. Is it your outfit? Too plain? Too wrinkled? You glance at your reflection in the library window, smoothing down your shirt and adjusting your glasses. Maybe it’s your hair, messy from the humid breeze. Maybe it’s the way your glasses slip down your nose.

The thought gnaws at you until you can’t stand it anymore. Gripping your bag, you take refuge in the library, the familiar scent of books and old paper a small comfort against the anxiety clawing at your chest.

You head straight to the back corner, the quietest part of the library where no one goes, and settle into a chair. As you pull out your books, your phone buzzes on the table, making you jump.

It’s a text from Sukuna.

Sukuna: “You free to talk about the project?”

You stare at the screen, your hands clammy. You glance around the library as though he might somehow already be here, watching you.

You: “I’m at the library. Free until 3 pm.”

Your fingers tremble as you hit send. The reply comes almost instantly.

Sukuna: “On my way.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you set your phone down, staring at it like it might explode. He’s coming here. You feel the familiar churn of nerves in your stomach, a mixture of dread and anticipation.

You gather your things, moving to a more central table, one with enough space to spread out your books and notes.

You set up your notebooks, flipping through them as you rehearse how you’ll act, what you’ll say. Calm. Professional. Unbothered. But the way your fingers keep fidgeting with the edge of a page betrays the calm façade you’re so desperately trying to maintain.

You glance at the clock. Five minutes. Just five minutes, and Sukuna will be here.

Sukuna strode toward the library, its imposing doors feeling oddly foreign to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot in a place like this. Was it middle school? High school, maybe? He shook his head, shoving the thought aside as his eyes scanned the room.

There you were, seated at a table in the far corner, your head tilted down as you scribbled something in your notebook. You looked nervous, fiddling with the edge of the paper, occasionally glancing around. He sighed, straightening his posture and adjusting his expression. This was part of the plan. He had to make it convincing.

As he approached, he called your name, letting his voice soften in a way that surprised even him. “Y/N,” he said, a faint lilt of warmth threading through the syllables.

Your head shot up, eyes wide, and then… you smiled. A genuine, unguarded smile that made something in him pause. She has a pretty smile.

He shoved the thought away almost as soon as it formed. No distractions. This was just for the bet.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice professional and polite, though he could hear the slightest tremor of nervousness. “Thank you for coming. I was just reviewing some potential ideas for the project.”

He gave a faint nod and slid into the chair across from you, leaning back in a way that radiated casual confidence. “No problem. What’ve you got?”

You pushed your notebook toward him, your voice gaining momentum as you spoke. “The topic is Investment Risk Management, so I thought we could start with a breakdown of the primary risk categories—market risk, credit risk, liquidity risk—and then move into mitigation strategies. For example, diversification, hedging, or credit default swaps…”

He nodded occasionally, pretending to listen as his eyes wandered to your face. You were animated, your hands gesturing slightly as you explained your thoughts. But then, something shifted.

Your words slowed, and you began to avoid his gaze. Your fingers curled inward, fidgeting with the pen in your hand.

He followed your line of sight, glancing over his shoulder, and his jaw tightened. Mahito and Jogo were pressed up against the library window, their shoulders shaking with laughter as they mimicked something obscene.

Sukuna’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he shot them a glare that could have frozen hell over. The two idiots immediately straightened, ducking out of sight like guilty schoolboys.

Turning back to you, he let out a sharp breath and said, “Ignore them. They’re like children.” The words sounded strange coming from his mouth—Nanami’s phrase, verbatim—but it seemed to work.

You gave a small, tight-lipped smile. “It’s fine,” you murmured, brushing it off, and resumed your explanation.

As you talked, Sukuna found his attention drifting again—not to the words, but to you. The way the soft library light caught in your hair. The way your fingers tapped against the notebook when you were trying to think. The way your lips moved, forming each syllable with precision.

He caught himself, blinking hard. What the hell am I doing? This wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to be noticing these things about you. This was a bet. Just a stupid, meaningless bet.

“Sukuna?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked at you, startled. “What?”

You frowned slightly, looking both confused. “I asked which topic we should go with. I narrowed it down to either mitigation strategies or analyzing real-life risk scenarios. Which do you think is better?”

He stared at you for a beat too long before leaning back, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “Uh… whichever you think is best.”

Your expression flickered—just for a second—before you nodded. “Alright. Then I think we should go with mitigation strategies. It’s more structured and easier to present.”

“Sounds good,” he said, already feeling like he’d messed up.

You scribbled the final choice into your notebook, your pen pressing a little harder against the paper than before. He could feel the disappointment emanating from you, but you didn’t say anything, just kept writing.

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. He needed to get his head in the game—this wasn’t about you.

You glance at Sukuna, trying to shake off the growing discomfort. “Maybe you could start gathering information on the mitigation strategies? We could meet on Monday and review what we both found.”

Sukuna nods, his expression unreadable, and you nod back. The tension feels like it’s stretching between you, and you quickly start packing your things. “I think… that’s enough for today.”

He stands up as you do, his movements slower than usual. For the first time in his life, Sukuna Ryomen feels unsure—no, nervous—around a girl. He doesn’t know what to say or how to salvage the moment, but the silence is suffocating.

“I’ll… see you around,” he says, and he hates how awkward it sounds even as the words leave his mouth.

You nod again, clutching your bag to your chest, and walk away quickly—too quickly. Almost running. Sukuna watches you leave, frowning.

As he steps out of the library, Mahito and Jogo are waiting for him like vultures circling a fresh meal.

Mahito snickers. “Dude. That was painful. I think my grandma could flirt better than that, and she’s been dead for five years.”

Jogo bursts out laughing. “No, seriously, did she run? I swear I’ve never seen someone speed-walk like that outside of a power-walking competition.”

Sukuna glares at them, his fists clenching. “Shut up. She didn’t run. She just… walks fast.”

“Right,” Mahito smirks. “Because she couldn’t wait to get away from you. What happened to ‘Mr. Smooth’? You looked like you were about to pass out.”

“Yeah, isn’t this your thing?” Jogo adds, grinning. “Talk a little, smirk a little, and they’re putty in your hands. What happened? Did she intimidate you?”

“Shut it, both of you,” Sukuna snaps. “I don’t see either of you doing better.”

Mahito throws his arm around Jogo dramatically. “That’s because we don’t need to. We’re not the ones making a fool of ourselves in the library.”

Jogo pretends to wipe a tear. “It was tragic, man. Like watching a lion forget how to hunt.”

Sukuna steps toward them, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. “If you two don’t quit it, you’ll be the next tragic story.”

Mahito raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Alright, alright. Don’t get all defensive, loverboy. Just saying, if this keeps up, you’re gonna owe me a hundred bucks for wasting my time.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who can’t spell ‘library,’” Sukuna retorts.

Jogo howls with laughter, clutching his sides, while Mahito glares at him. “I know how to spell it, you idiot. It’s L-I-B-E—”

“It’s L-I-B-R-A-R-Y, you moron,” Sukuna cuts him off, rolling his eyes.

Mahito shrugs. “Whatever. Point is, in how this is going… it just shows that she is way out of your league.”

Sukuna smirks, his confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As Mahito and Jogo continue laughing, Sukuna walks ahead of them, already plotting his next move. He wasn’t about to let them—or you—get the last word.

You walk into your dorm, dropping your bag by the door. The room is quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day. Your eyes land on a small note taped to your roommate’s desk:

“Staying with a friend tonight – Shoko.”

You smile faintly. Shoko is one of the few people you can tolerate, despite her glaring flaws. She’s easygoing and never pries into your business, though her smoking habit… well, that’s another story.

Your gaze shifts to her desk, cluttered with cigarette packs, half-used lighters, and an array of brightly colored vapes. You shake your head, amused despite yourself. At this rate, her lifespan is probably down by twenty percent, you think.

You toss the note back onto her desk and flop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day replay in your mind like a bad movie.

Your interaction with Sukuna comes to the forefront. The way his two friends were laughing and staring at you through the library window lingers in your thoughts, making your cheeks heat up. Were they laughing at me? you wonder.

You feel the all-too-familiar pang of embarrassment. But then again, embarrassment has always been your shadow, hasn’t it?

Your mind drifts back to middle school. Back then, Sukuna didn’t even know you existed. To him—and to most of the school—you were just another face in the crowd, a quiet blur on the periphery of his world.

But you had noticed him. How could you not? Sukuna Ryomen was larger than life, even back then. He was the kind of boy who made everyone stop and stare. The boy who had everything—looks, confidence, attention.

And you? You were the girl who blended into the wallpaper. The one no one saw.

You sigh, shifting onto your side and hugging your pillow. Somewhere deep inside, you wish someone—anyone—had noticed you back then.

But even now, years later, you’re still the same invisible girl, aren’t you?

Your thoughts grow heavier as you close your eyes, trying to shake off the feeling. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. It never mattered.

But it does. And you hate that it does.

Sukuna pushes open the door to his dorm, already irritated from his day. As he steps inside, his eyes immediately land on his younger brother, Yuuji, sprawled across the sofa, fast asleep. His mouth is slightly open, soft snores escaping as a few loose papers cling to his shirt like forgotten leaves.

Sukuna’s lips curl into a smirk as he picks up a sofa pillow and hurls it at Yuuji’s head.

“Wake up, idiot,” Sukuna barks.

Yuuji jolts upright, flailing for a moment before groaning in frustration. “What the hell, Sukuna?” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“What the hell, Yuuji?” Sukuna mocks in a sing-song tone, walking over to the cluttered coffee table. His eyes scan the scattered papers, notebooks, and highlighters, and he snorts. “Wow, looks like your freshman year is going fantastic.” His voice drips with sarcasm as he picks up a crumpled syllabus and tosses it back onto the table.

Yuuji groans again, slumping back into the sofa. “Don’t start. I’m behind, okay? I’m trying, but…” He trails off, his voice quieter now. “I just feel drained.”

Sukuna pauses for a moment, his teasing demeanor faltering. He knows that feeling all too well, though he’d never admit it.

“Do you want me to find you a tutor?” Sukuna offers, leaning casually against the back of the sofa, as though the question is no big deal.

Yuuji shakes his head quickly. “No, you don’t have to take care of me, Sukuna. I can handle it.”

That makes Sukuna pause again, his usual sharp retorts replaced by an unfamiliar silence. He glances at Yuuji, who now sits curled up in a corner of the sofa, looking small and defeated.

Sukuna exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair before walking over to stand in front of his brother. “Look,” he begins, his tone softer now, though it still carries that edge he can’t quite shake, “I promised Dad I’d take care of you. And I don’t break promises.”

Yuuji turns his head away, trying to hide the emotion on his face. Sukuna doesn’t miss it, though. He knows his brother too well. He knows how close Yuuji was to their father, how their dad’s death just months ago had shattered him in ways Yuuji didn’t like to show. Sukuna doesn’t do emotions, not openly. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel them.

After a beat, Sukuna sits down beside him on the sofa, the space between them heavy with unspoken words. “You don’t have to do this on your own, Yuuji,” he says finally. “I’ll find you a tutor. Someone decent. I’m kind of a big deal on campus, you know.”

That earns him a small smile from Yuuji, who glances at him sidelong. “A big deal, huh?”

“Damn right,” Sukuna replies, smirking as he reaches over to ruffle Yuuji’s already messy hair.

“Hey!” Yuuji protests, swatting at Sukuna’s hand but laughing now, the tension in the room lifting just slightly.

Sukuna leans back, crossing his arms as he looks at his brother. “Don’t screw it up, though. If I go through the trouble of finding someone, you’d better actually show up and not embarrass me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuuji says, rolling his eyes but still smiling.

Sukuna doesn’t say it, but he feels a small sense of relief seeing that smile. For now, that’s enough.

Sukuna leans back against the couch, arms crossed, watching Yuuji fiddle with his papers. He’s about to make another sarcastic comment when Yuuji suddenly looks up and says, “Oh, by the way, Mei Mei came by earlier.”

Sukuna doesn’t even flinch. “So?”

“She was asking about you,” Yuuji continues, ignoring his brother’s indifference. “Something about you not answering her calls or messages.”

“Don’t care,” Sukuna says flatly, his tone almost bored as he gets up and starts walking toward the kitchen.

Yuuji watches him carefully, his brow furrowing in suspicion. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re acting weird,” Yuuji presses, standing up and following him.

Sukuna stops by the counter, pulling out a pan from one of the cabinets. “I’m over it,” he says finally, his voice steady but clipped.

“Over what?”

“Her.”

Yuuji stares at him, confused. “What do you mean? Mei Mei?”

“Yeah,” Sukuna says with a shrug, focusing on grabbing ingredients from the fridge.

Yuuji tilts his head, his curiosity piqued. “Okay, but what do you mean you’re over it? You guys were… whatever you were. You always go back to her.”

Sukuna slams the fridge shut and looks at Yuuji, a faint irritation flickering in his eyes. “I’m sick of her games, alright?”

“What games?” Yuuji asks, still clueless.

“It’s weird to talk about this stuff with my little brother,” Sukuna mutters, avoiding eye contact as he sets a cutting board on the counter.

“I’m a full-grown-ass adult,” Yuuji fires back, crossing his arms.

That earns him a small chuckle from Sukuna. “Alright, fine.” He grabs a knife and starts chopping vegetables, his tone casual but pointed. “We started dating, then she didn’t want anything serious. Then she hooks up with everyone, gets pissed when I hook up with someone else, then we’re back at it again. And it’s all just… a damn game. A game I don’t like anymore.”

Yuuji processes this for a moment, leaning against the counter. “So you’re over her?”

“Yes,” Sukuna replies curtly, not looking up from the cutting board.

Yuuji raises an eyebrow. “Does this mean you’re finally gonna find a girlfriend?”

Sukuna snorts. “I don’t do relationships, Yuuji. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never had a proper one.”

“Every relationship I’ve been in has ended badly,” Sukuna says, tossing the chopped vegetables into a pan and turning on the stove.

“Maybe because you haven’t found the right person,” Yuuji suggests, his tone hopeful.

“God, you sound like you’re quoting one of those cheesy fantasy stories,” Sukuna groans, shaking his head.

Yuuji grins. “Maybe you just need your princess, Sukuna. Someone to break your cold, dead heart.”

“Shut up before I throw this at you,” Sukuna threatens, pointing the spatula at his brother, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

As the aroma of stir-fried vegetables fills the kitchen, Yuuji leans against the counter, watching Sukuna cook.

“By the way,” Yuuji says, “I’ll be hanging out with some friends later. Just a heads-up.”

“Fine,” Sukuna replies, flipping the food in the pan. “But don’t forget, I’ve got practice at seven. Don’t make me come looking for you if you’re late.”

Yuuji laughs. “Relax, I’m not the one with a habit of skipping commitments.”

Sukuna glances at him with a raised brow. “That’s rich coming from the guy drowning in late assignments.”

“Touché,” Yuuji concedes, grabbing two plates from the cupboard as Sukuna finishes cooking.

Sukuna slides the food onto the plates, handing one to Yuuji. “Eat up. You’ll need the energy to catch up on your work, or, you know, for your so-called friends.”

Yuuji smirks as he takes a bite. “And you’ll need the energy to find a girlfriend so I can have a sister in law.”

Sukuna throws a napkin at him. “Yeah yeah.”

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