07GF

Outskirts of Tokyo are supplied with Mark-4s and Mark-3s, while smaller cities in other regions receives copies of The Prototype and Mark-2s. Back in Hakodate, you’ve only encounter Category I and Category II Kaijus as a co-pilot. Mark-3 Blue Hawk was the strongest Jaeger in the station, and you were competent enough to join hands with other pilots to pilot it. Biting down at your bottom lip as you walk, the worry starts to really set into your bones. Sending you, the highest compatibility rate pilot, to Shibuya? It could only been one thing.

Something in Shibuya had gone wrong.

Nearing the exit, the howling of the wind was growing un-tameable. The chopper was already prepped, another co-pilot and a heli pilot was awaiting for your arrival. Embarrassed that they had been patiently waiting due to you taking your sweet time packing your things and saying goodbye to other units, you quicken your pace and hop onto the chopper, grabbing the support hold on the ceiling.

“Don’t worry, you’ll return to Hakodate soon enough. They most likely won’t make you stay for long.” Commander Takahashi waves at the rising chopper, and you wave back with a nod.

Settling down and buckling yourself into the passenger seat, you give a polite nod to the co-pilot next to you. You recognize him as Ino, a guy you see in passing and piloted with once. When your partners keep dying and get replaced, its inevitable that you fill in for them until they find a better fit. You’re a trusting person after all. Ino smiles back at you meekly, the curl of his lips suggest a hint of nervousness from him as well.

“You got sent in too?” You asked, sneakily taking a look at the cockpit of the heli, before taking out a bar of rice crackers to chomp on. Ino points at your bag curiously before you hand him one as well.

“Yeah,” He tries his best to chew as quietly as possible, “Chief said to simply go for a spin. Check out their tech in Tokyo, haha.” He jests in self-deprecation and a relief.

“Did he tell you any details on why?”

“Not much,” He shakes his head, crumbs falling from the corners of his lips, “But he did say something a little scary.”

“What is it?”

“That if we heard about the details of why we’re visiting Tokyo temporarily, we would request to not go.”

Before you get to pry further, the heli pilot turns his head to comment on the eating and you both quickly apologize, stuffing down the rest of the crackers down your throat before staying in your sits obediently. Ino’s words has not shaken you that much considering any mission is dangerous when you work as a Jaeger pilot, but the lack of information was certainly intimidating. Obscuring information from a fellow Jaeger pilot? Almost unheard of.

A good few hours pass before you finally reach Tokyo. The skyscrapers enclosed in by the tight and tall Anti-Kaiju Walls around the city border towards the Kaiju-infested sea. It’s certainly a dazzling sight at night, led lights and all. The massive Shatterdome is located on the far side near the shore, protecting over a smaller building that you assume to be a lab.

“Jesus, this is a real Shatterdome. It’s gigantic.” You point down at the fortress, and Ino agrees. The base back home is a shack compared to this.

As the chopper lowers it’s altitude towards the ground, you start to see a ton of other helicopters. It’s a pool of black dots down there. Some of them are…leaving?

“Seems like we’re late.” The heli pilot comments, clicking his tongue in irritation.

“They’re all leaving so quickly. Are we really just here to sight see?” Ino dips his head out further, amusement laced in his tone. You shrug in response.

The chopper lands with slight turbulence as you both grab your things and head down. With your bag slinged over your shoulder, you’re quick to join in with the crowd, greeting the other Jaeger pilots from the other regions. Most of them are friendly, some hard to communicate with due to accent and dialect differences. Chatting with a few of them while following an instructor from the Tokyo unit, it seems that no one really knows the details entailing on the sudden emergency gathering in Tokyo. On top of that, everyone who was called in were all co-pilots.

Passing by tunnels, the crowd is finally brought into the interior of the Shatterdome. No words can describe the exhilarating feeling you felt upon landing your eyes on the facilities before you. Ceilings twice as high and bright led lights with a power watt that’s surely ten times stronger than the lousy lights back home, the technology here is nuts. Don’t even get you started on the Jaeger’s as well. The weakest unit here is a Mark-4, the rest are Mark-5 and 6. Only the best and never average.

These highly equipped and powered Jaeger units had many amenities that you don’t recognize. Perhaps only mentioned in the news or the magazine when you were still in Hakodate, but you were hardly someone who liked watching the news. It was just always about fighting, death, victory, damage, and then it repeats. Watching the news tend to dull your hope for humanity’s survival, so the TV in your room is mostly layered with dust.

Dead center and hung up like a saintly being, it’s the Striker Eureka. In it’s full glory, nothing else really compares. The most expensive unit ever made with the most advanced tech, and the aggressive brawler fight style that accompanies with it a brutish pair of pilots. You don’t get the opportunity to meet them before Ino taps on your shoulder to make you follow along, your cheeks growing red that you were gawking at the Jaeger like a dazed amateur.

It’s a really long walk towards whatever place they’re leading the crowd to, but something that confuses you the most is that there’s frequently injured Jaeger pilots leaving. Coming from the direction you’re going towards, these Jaeger pilots look distraught and disheartened, pushing against the flow of the incoming crowd to leave. One of them who had a nosebleed had looked at you up and down, before shaking his head and mumbling that you “wouldn’t last a minute.” What the fuck is going on?

The distant sound of loud thuds and yelping grows louder when you reach a door that is likely to be the combat room. Everyone exchange curious looks with each other.

Two loud claps from the instructor and it gains everyone’s attention.

“Alright, team. Beyond this door is a one chance spar. We are looking for a new co-pilot to pilot a Mark-7 Jaeger unit.” He loudly announces, rough wrinkled hands on his hips.

A Mark-7?!

Murmurs and discussions start up again, and he claps once more to control the volume.

“The sparring partner inside is the pilot then?” A man from Nagasaki asks.

“Correct. He’s strong, and unfortunately, hard to have compatibility with.”

“There’s at least about 100 of us that was deployed here, so far none of them were compatible?” A man from Fukuoka asks.

“Not yet, he’s a difficult person-” The instructor was interrupted by two men bursting out the combat room, one with a bruised eye and one with a limping leg. Shouting to ‘get the fuck out of the way’, they scram. Just who was this behind the door?

“For every pilot that flees the combat room, another must go in. You two, head inside.” The instructor continues, and two men from the crowd go in. Battlecries faintly can be heard when the door opens and closes.

“We start with the men first.”

Looking around, you realize there’s only about 3 other women pilots in the crowd with you. You pray you do not enter the arena at the same time as them. It’s every man for himself in there by the sound of it, and having another woman in that sparring ground with you would make you have this instinct to team up. Too friendly for your own good, perhaps.

“What happened to his previous co-pilot?” Another question for the instructor.

“He quit.” He simply says.

Chief was right. If you knew about the details, you wouldn’t have come. Everyone just apparently came here to get a free beating by a guy that supposing-ly has abnormal skill in fighting. Plus, given the assumption that this man was born and raised in Tokyo, he’s surely been trained like crazy in the academy here. Better tech, better advantage. Who the hell could be compatible with him if not someone already in stationed Tokyo?! Isn’t this common sense?!

An hour pass, and the crowd of pilots has been cut down to merely 16 people. People coming out of the room with various injuries as if they’re went solo-piloting in a Jaeger. Ino beside you went in as well, and hasn’t come out yet. Maybe he’s holding up a good fight with that mysterious guy. You’re the last woman out here. The other women came out of the room injured as well, tied hair previously gathered in a high ponytail, now just an unkempt mess on the head.

“The guy inside is nuts. At this rate, he’ll solo-pilot.” A woman passing by you to leave whispers pitifully, wishing you good luck with her stare. You remember she’s from Kagoshima, and she was friendly with you as well.

“Solo pilot? That’s impossible though.” You jest, half serious.

“I know, but he’s way too…You’ll see when you go inside.” She leaves.

A snot-nose man emerges from the door, and you gulp at the instructor by the door, giving him an awkward smile before heading inside.

What you witness inside is as if a scene in a Japanese samurai movie.

The walls are painted with faint traces of blood and slight dents from impact from heavily thrown bodies.

10 people surrounds a man in the middle of the rectangle sparring ground, hesitating to go forward to attack him.

In the middle of the circle stands a man with staggering height and an awfully scarred face. The faded scar on the right side of his face blends into the pink of his hair, shaved cleanly down into an undercut. He’s wearing a black tank top and black military pants, his posture and body language is relaxed, arms wide open with visibly calloused palms. He has tattoos over his wrists, ankle, and all over his face. It looks runic, very intentional.

There are no bruises or injuries on him, at all.

This doesn’t seem like a fair fight.

It shouldn’t be 10 against this one guy. It should be 30 against him.

The man curls his fingers as a taunt for the men to come forward, and all 10 of them, including Ino lunges at him. You join in. Now it’s 11.

A kick from behind and the pink haired man dodges it with a side lean to his body, grabbing their ankle and throwing their entire body towards the wall. Now it’s 10.

A punch from 3 o’ clock doesn’t get to land before their wrist is halted with a tight grip from the man, flung across the air and cracks against the floor with a thud. Now it’s 9.

Ducked low in an attempt to kick off his balance, the man dodges your kick and jumps up in a split while kicking off two people on the side. His hands claps together and intertwine as he descends back down, intending to crush it into your skull. He’s quick! You lean back with fast reflexes, gasping when his fists misses you narrowly and pounds into the ground. It shakes. Now it’s 7.

Ino comes behind you and directs his punch straight to the man’s face. The man leans back until his back almost reaches the ground. Oh, it’s a trick! Ino’s eyes meet yours and you catch his flow, swiftly moving to kick off the man’s feet again while he’s in a position where he can’t get up quickly. To your shock, the man plants his hands on the ground behind him and does a summersault instead, and kicks Ino right in the face. Ino’s body flies towards another person and they both go down. Now it’s 5.

Your brain can’t even have a moment to worry about Ino when the spar still persists. Another woman who’s more agile than you are has dodged most of his attacks as well, but she’s struggling to look for an opening too.

Team up…Should I?

She meets your eyes.

I should!

“I’ll make an opening!” You grab her arm, feeling the slippery sweat on it. Shit, she’s been at it for a while. She nods back at you and you smile gratefully.

A fist blows wind between you and her and you both turn to see the man with his eyebrow quirked in a questioning manner that’s silently asking the both of you — “You ladies done chatting’?” He’s cheeky!

Splitting distance between the both of you, he ducks a kick from behind his head, and kicks off the other man’s stomach. Now it’s 4. He punches off another. Now it’s 3. Another blow. Then it’s just you and the other woman.

With a quick meet of the eyes, you run up to him at the same time as the other woman. Your arm hook below his armpits from behind and yank him up, suspending his arms in the air. The other woman attempts to plow his stomach with a rounded up kick, but then he ducks down and her kick ends up on your face with a loud smack instead.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Her last words before the man sends a punch into her ribs and knock her out the boundaries of the arena. Now it’s you, and him.

Dizzy but having no time to recover, you recklessly rush at him from behind again. He tries to turn and grab you, but your height difference proves an advantage for once, missing your form by a margin. Like a sumo wrestler, you try to take him down by pushing, but he’s way too heavy.

Going along with your hug, he fastens his arms over your arms on his torso, and you realize he’s about to fucking summersault again and slam your spine right into the ground with his body weight. In sheer panic, you jump and spin, locking your thighs over his head and pull him down on the ground.

Got him!

He grunts in his throat when he lands, you move to lock his head with your thighs.

“Yield-”

Before you can even finish your rather arrogant display of posing as the winner, his arm shoots up to strangle your neck. You had made the mistake of letting his arms free. A gurgling sound escapes your throat, big veiny hands squeezing dead center at your esophagus.

Your hands slap vigorously on his wrists, glaring down at the man who’s smiling rather calmly at you, his face also red from the leg lock you’ve put him in. You’re gasping, clawing and scratching your nails onto his forearm, yet he’s completely un-phased. The academy did not prepare you for a situation where a Kaiju strangles your neck, and now you’re suffocating and near asphyxiation above a human man.

“Let g—! Agh—”

He tightens his grip.

Eyeing his scarred face again, you get an idea.

Two fingers jab down at his face, a glimpse of surprise and astonishment flash across his face before he turns his head quick to the side, sparing his eyes.

There’s a wild look in his eyes now, crimson irises now mixed with ferocity, angered by your dirty trick to jab him in his sole remaining eye. There is something else in it too, you fear it’s excitement.

Are you really going to fucking die here, in another city far from home, on the hands of another Jaeger pilot? Not even a Kaiju?

“Sparring over, Ryomen!”

He releases you.

Your body involuntarily slumps backwards as oxygen rushes back through your mouth and your nose again, head spinning and seeing double. Ino’s worried expression splits into 4 blurry outlines, leaning over you. The pink haired man, now you know as “Ryomen”, stands over you as well. He points a finger downwards at you. You can’t make out anything. Weakly, you raise your left hand with the final strength in your body to give him the good ol’ middle finger. Then, you pass out.

— —

“Take care of yourself okay? We’re happy you’re out being a hero for the people, but you’re still our baby.”

“Your compatibility rate is high, you can help out the other pilots when their co-pilot is injured.”

“We need to send you to Tokyo.”

“The guy inside is nuts.”

“Let go!”

Gasping for air, you wake in cold sweat, the mattress underneath you radiating warmth from your body heat and sweat. Hands ghosting over your neck, you feel a phantom pressure. You sigh. Your room is colder than you remember. The design of your door is also slightly different. What happened to all the trinkets and parts that you’ve built? Why is your desk empty— Wait. This isn’t your room.

Swinging your leg over the mattress, you sit at the edge of your bed for a moment. Where’s Ino? What happened after you fainted? Where are you? Your senses are all restored back to high alert. Thankfully, whoever carried you to this guest room took your bag as well and left it on the floor. Scouring your bag for your phone, you call Ino.

He doesn’t pick up. Okay, bizarre.

Sniffling, exercising your arm and your leg for a moment, you get up without a hitch. Taking your bag, the only familiar thing you have with you, you exit the room.

Your arch nemesis is the first thing you see.

Opposite your room, is Ryomen’s room. He exits his abode at the same time as you, hair damp from a shower, dressed in a simple green zipped up jacket and pants. How can he look so stress-free after almost murdering you? You hold your bag defensively infront of yourself, ready for anything at this point.

“What the hell? Is that your room?” You scowl at him.

He looks up at you, expression as neutral as they come.

“Am I still in Tokyo?”

He cocks his head to the side like he’s hinting at your stupidity.

“Are you deaf? I asked if we’re still in—”

“He doesn’t speak.”

An older voice draws closer from the left, you turn. A man who looks in his mid 40s approach you both, Ryomen already walking away down the hallway.

“Who are you-”

“I’m Yaga. Chief Commander at the Tokyo Shatterdome. Yes, you’re still in Tokyo.”

“When can I leave this-”

“You will not be leaving.” Yaga smiles, eyes crinkled sinisterly with an apologetic grin on his face. A decision was made without your consent, certainly.

“Elaborate.” You demand, now holding your bag towards Yaga. So many threats around here.

“Your spar with the pilot of Mark-7 Scarlet Asaemon has proven you to be compatible.” He explains, absentmindedly rubbing the stubble on his jaw, pointing at Ryomen’s retreating figure.

Mark-7? Scarlet Asaemon? Red Executioner? Compatible? With that asshole?

As if sensing your internal decision to make a run for it, Yaga grabs onto your elbow tightly, not letting you escape.

“People in Tokyo sure are clingy!” You snarl at him, twisting your arm left and right to set it free from the old man’s steel grip.

“You will be paid quadruple the amount than your current pay in Hakodate. Your parents will also receive special privileges to travel in and out of Tokyo.”

Yaga watches your demeanor go from a violent stray cat to an obedient puppy wagging it’s tail, tongue poking out to wait for a sweet treat to land. Saluting him with your chest puffed up, you skip off towards the canteen with the directions Yaga has given you. Let’s celebrate the first day of promotion. Rainbows and sunshine. Money doesn’t grow on trees, it grows in Tokyo.

The canteen is, to your surprise, very fucking packed. What the hell? The canteen in Hakodate was always kind of empty due to the subpar quality of food, so you and your friends always managed to snag a seat. Jaeger’s who are blessed with higher pay gets to have food sent it from the city, so they usually just stay in their dorms to eat. The rest just suffer the food provided at the canteen, or eat as little as a Victorian child and leave. Point is, the canteen back home was vacant.

Following the queue, you scope out the food situation. Holy shit, it’s a buffet. Elite Jaegers at Tokyo be having buffets breakfast lunch dinner, what the hell. From tuna sashimi to grilled teriyaki eels, you’re certain you will be a very happy woman here in Tokyo, at least for food and money. They even have a fugu section every Wednesday, how crazy is that?! Then again, they’re close to the city and the sea, so you suppose they can fish for them and have chefs do the work. Hakodate’s Shatterdome is close to the sea too, but there wasn’t any licensed chef to prepare fugu properly.

Grabbing a tray of your own, you start stacking up on food like a ravenous beast. Fuck it, you didn’t know anyone in Tokyo, and they certainly won’t start being friendly to you considering you’re a pilot from another region. Might as well compete them in eating.

Problem still is, there is no seats. Actually there is. Actually there isn’t. Actually there is. You just refuse to acknowledge it.

Ryomen’s table is only him, and his four trays of food. Guess you both have gluttony in common. He eats like a literal beast, all up in his tray and bites as big as a serving spoon. His cheeks are never stopping in movement, just chew, chew and chew. Nobody sitting with him, hmph. Serves him right.

But there’s nowhere else to sit…

Okay well, it’s not like he owns the seats. Assert dominance and sit there. He choked you out so now you’re going to pray he chokes on a fish bone and dies. Then you won’t have to co-pilot a Mark-7. Then you’re back home in your sweet soft bed with your friends.

“I’m only sitting here because there’s no where else to sit. Don’t get it twisted now. I still don’t like you.” You sit down on the far end of the table with your tray with a grumble, determined to keep your distance despite him being your new partner. You’re sure to fail the Neural Handshake with him anyways. They’ll have to find him a new co-pilot.

He doesn’t spare you a single glance and moves onto his next tray, continuing his task to finish his food. Right, he’s mute. You pop off the cap on your milk carton, wondering how he even communicated with his previous co-pilot. Outside of the Neural Handshake, surely he must built some kind of relationship with people, right? He doesn’t seem to initiate conversations anyways, not even an attempt at sign language.

Finishing up your food, you put aside the last half of salmon teriyaki, you’re beat. About to take your tray and leave, a tattooed hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

“Ay! What the hell!” You yelp, glaring at Ryomen who’s gaze is fixated on your salmon. No. He’s not serious. You nudge your tray at him, and he nods earnestly and points at your salmon. Reluctantly nodding back, you watch in horror as he uses his fingers to grab your salmon, and casually gobble it in his mouth. Just gnarly.

You wonder how this sort of egregious behaviour is even allowed, but you remember you’re all a bunch of pilots who puppet a giant machinery to fight monsters that emerge from the sea. Not that crazy to steal someone else’s leftovers, you suppose. Still, gross. Indirect saliva sharing. Gross. You only do that with your close friends. Ryomen? Never a friend, only a work acquaintance.

It’s really unfortunate that your brain has not sent enough stress signals or trigger your dopamine receptors to feel any solid emotion that you could voice out in a way that’s like “I’m so fucking scared to be piloting a Mark-7 with a guy that tried to kill me in Tokyo! Hey at least i’m getting big money!”, because you’re sure you have not experienced this degree of insomnia in your 21 years of living. Back in Hakodate, you always managed to fall asleep fast from being exhausted after your toils with the Kaijus. You’ve never noticed how depressing it is to be staring at a ceiling that’s decorated with rust and other questionable dried out substance on the ceiling.

Turning to your side, you stare at your dull desk. No plushies, no sketchbooks or any journals. Had you knew Tokyo was quite literally going to sweep you away, you would have brought everything with you. Including your pillow that you’ve drooled on for way too long as a kid. Or Mr Robot that you built from soda cans and scrapped Jaeger parts.

Why is that fucker compatible with you? You lost against him the same as everyone. You were never one of those ‘chosen ones’ for bullshit like this, and you now feel a sense of disdain for those who celebrate about being singled out in a crowd for special missions. What’s so honorable about risking your life? So happy to die. Was it strange to have so much will to a world that’s threatened by Kaijus every living second? Wasn’t the saying “live your life to the fullest?

The money’s good though. Mum could pay off the mortgage much faster.

So you slept that night dreaming about a money tree growing in your room.

—- —

You’re wakened up by an aggressive yank on your shirt collar, groggy and suddenly alert when your eyes settle on Ryomen who’s looming over you with a tight zip on his lips and hard furrow on his brows, making his nose bridge wrinkle. He shakes you violently once more, you wipe your drool until you start to register a loud alarm ringing across the entire Shatterdome. You were always a heavy sleeper, but fuck, yesterday must have knocked you out cold, twice.

He’s wearing a Drivesuit!

Nodding like an obedient puppy and finally registering the urgency of the situation like the silly rookie you must look like, you fling yourself out of your bed, Ryomen leaves your dorm with big strides. Scuffling with the closet, you find a new bodysuit that was delivered to your dorm yesterday. Should have loosened it yesterday! Your nails rip open the sealed packaging and you shimmy yourself into it, ignoring how it pulls on the skin on your hips and thighs. Christ, it’s a size too small!

Repeatedly loud knocks from a heavy fist snaps your head up to look at Ryomen who looks properly pissed off, you grab some bread and go off with him like a school girl on the first day of her school. Great, now you already give off the impression of someone who isn’t a morning person, irresponsible, and incapable! Bah!

The moment you get to the sector, Chief Yaga is already running his mouth way too fast for your ears to pick up, while Ryomen besides you don’t even look at him, going straight Conn-pod. Scarlet Asaemon looks properly phenomenal, red shine over hard titanium. With your mouth open like a confused child, Yaga ushers you to head to the top floor Drivesuit room, instructing you the directions since the Shatterdome layout is different than the one you’re used to. Once you got suited up, you rush to the Conn-pod to join Ryomen.

The smell of the Drivesuit is different. Sharper with disinfectant and colder on your skin, or maybe it’s Ryomen’s stare that’s driving you crazy with chills up your spine. He’s entirely relaxed about doing a Neural Handshake for the very first time with you, like there wasn’t any possibility to fail. Something is off about him. This entire thing is fucking impulsive. Drifting in a Mark-7. Perhaps you’re feeling exceptionally nauseous about the lack of moral support from the others. Everyone in Tokyo is so…self-sufficient. You miss the way Shoko’s hand squeezes you before she leaves you in the Conn-pad. Now it’s you and your peculiar pilot.

“The Kaiju is Category IV.” Yaga’s voice echoes from the intercom.

“I-I’ve never fought a Cat-IV Kaiju.” You blink, swallowing as the yellow gel starts to up your Drift Helmet.

“Proceed with drifting. Neural Handshake in three.” He ignores you.

You turn to Ryomen for some help, wishing he could say something, but you’re invisible to him as well. How is no one worried about failure?

“Can you please say something-” Your vision goes completely white. Flashes of events shuffle across your eyes like an unskippable cutscene in a videogame. It was crimson, then it was black, then it was tendons. Jugular and vein. Joints to the nails, nose stitch to busted lips and broken noses. A warm liquid trickled down your lips, you licked it, and it was iron. Slit throat to the frantic beating of the heart.

It was the voices that came the next. Echoes of your mother’s soft words accompanied by frenzied terrified screams. Your own memories has been contaminated and rearranged with Ryomen’s. The smell of wet grass at your best friend’s funeral and a stream of voices begging to be spared. The contrast between your memories are painfully obvious.

Then, it was his voice. Ryomen’s voice, for the first time ever, in your head.

“Your memories are such a bore.” His raspy voice drawls.

The bile that rushes up your throat is fast and abrupt. If you could, you’d vomit all over him in this liminal space that you share with Ryomen.

“I never want to speak or drift with you ever again.” Your voice shakes.

Your vision returns, the skyhatch opens, ready to fly Scarlet Asaemon out with you and Ryomen piloting it. The Neural Handshake succeeded, you don’t know how it even got to this point. How can Ryomen not chase the rabbit for his gruesome memories?

With heavy turbulence, the Mark-7 is flown skyward, heading for the sea. Ryomen’s deep voice in your head continues to speak. For someone who doesn’t speak verbally, he has a lot to say. You’re zoned out on most of them other than the instructions he’s giving. The right hand of the Jaeger has a primary weapon that works something like a swiss knife. It has 3 modes. A clean katana, a chainsaw and an axe. The left hand is an arm that is covered in titanium to act as a shield.

The overdose of information quickly rushes all up into your head, it clicks right into place. Asaemon, executioner, beheader. Ryomen’s fighting style is to behead these Kaiju’s. A full offense Jaeger with minimal defense. You don’t even know what to say even when they drop the Jaeger down into the sea, and the sea level rises up to the Jaeger’s ankles.

The system focuses you both on the rapidly approaching Kaiju in the water, a surge of water and it splashes out from the sea, standing off with the Jaeger.

Nothing is within your control at this point, as Ryomen is far more experienced than you are with high level Kaijus, you follow his movements.

The Kaiju spears it’s claw at you, you block it with a grunt, feeling the veins behind your eyeballs explode from the strain. It pricks at your vision, burning your sight raw as if a phantom sizzle, an itch you can’t scratch. No time to recover, Ryomen swings out the chainsaw from the right hand at the Jaeger.

“Wait! I haven’t recov-!” Coughing inside your Drift helmet, your attempts to slow him down is futile, the chainsaw drilling right into the neck of the Kaiju. It shrieks, loud enough for the seafloor to vibrate beneath you, loud enough to rival the maniac laughter from your pilot. He knows an unstable connection with his co-pilot will put himself at risk too, but by the sadistic thrill on his face, you know he doesn’t fucking care.

Gritting your teeth, you shut up and cooperate with him. Blocking the last few desperate attempts at rebellion from the Kaiju, you tank two more punches to the left side of the Jaeger, feeling your temple ache with tension. You grab ahold of the Kaiju’s head, allowing Sukuna to gore it with a twist to it’s head and the last bit of it’s neck breaks off, beheading it completely.

Perhaps fueled by sheer will and the raging flames of anger within you, you made it back to shore with him. Ryomen had the audacity to try to shake your hand, you slap it away. Shaky hands producing sweat, mixing in with your nose that can’t stop dribbling blood onto your lips, you throw your Drift helmet to the ground, limp-running towards the overseeing section with Yaga, roughly shoving aside everyone that gets in your way.

Yaga is already prepared for your outburst, holding out his hands as an offering of truce, yet you shove him all the same, wishing his heavy form would budge.

“Why the fuck is a felon in the Jaeger program?!” You shout right at his face, bloody spit splattering all over his face. Properly deranged with blood coating your teeth and crimson red in the white of your eyeball, you might as well join the monsters in the sea.

“He’s good at killing.” Yaga says slowly to soothe you, wiping his face with a napkin.

“Very fucking funny. That guy is a fucking nut job! He tried to kill me and none of you give a fuck!” You flip off everyone in the room in a circular motion, striding down to your dorm.

“But you survived! That’s more important!” His voice echoes down the corridor.

You’ve got to get the fuck out of here, now.

3:37 am.

Checking your phone, you silence it, hoisting up your heavy bag over your shoulder. Giving one last look to check for left out baggage, you leave your dorm. As quiet as you can manage with the last bit of fight in you, you shuffle your feet all the way down to the B1 basement where it exits towards the city.

You halt at the big green exit sign illuminating above the door.

A pink-haired man stands right below it, resting his back on the wall, dressed in tank top and cargo pants.

“Ryomen?” You spat, but then you zip it, remembering you swore to never speak to him again.

He shakes his head.

You hiss at him, recalling he told you his first name during the Drift. You’re not calling him Sukuna. It’s fucking insane that you can understand what he’s thinking now that you’ve drifted with him in the Jaeger. Not sure why he’s standing there smirking like he caught you orchestrating a coup d'état, you try to walk past him towards the exit. Keyword, try. His hand is grabbing onto your elbow, and you’re now wondering if the screen should start showing a touch count for everytime someone grabs your arm in these two days.

Lunging a fist at him, he dodges and yanks your arm so you’re close to him, now craning your neck up because you’re only as tall as his collarbone. You struggle, he tightens his grip like a rope with tied with a slip knot on both ends.

He points at himself, then you, then the exit door.

Shaking your head aggressively, your outright refusal makes him roll his eyes, pushing his hand up behind you. You think he’s doing some romcom bit where the man is trapping the woman in the corner to claim her, about to laugh in his face at his ridiculous wishful thinking that you could ever be seduced by his scarred face, but it dies when you realize his hand is on the trigger button of the fire alarm above you.

You shake your head like a rag doll.

He nods with a smile.

You shake your head again.

He nods faster while biting his bottom lip.

“Fine! Fuck.” Stepping on his shoes, you give in, Sukuna pushes the exit door open and pulls your arm along with him. The breeze from the beach air is cold and comforting. Some “fuck you”s and “kill yourself”s are sang out while your silhouettes walk across the sand, aiming for the bright city lights. Surreal that you were just fighting a whole Kaiju hours before this, but life goes on.

Now, where could you possibly find a good place to stay the night in a city you have not been to, while holding onto barely scraps of cash? The slums. The first closest place of rest is the resort near the beach, but it’s almost 4 in the morning, so you move on to your slums plan. Reluctantly turning behind to Sukuna, you find him still trailing after you like you owe him a large sum of money.

“Need a place to sleep.” Unfortunately, your tone comes off in more of a request for help than a genuine demand, deadly afraid he’d mistake you to be buddy-buddy with him now that you’re both ran off like you’re eloping.

Sukuna points at your bag, you quickly pull it behind your back before he manages to touch it. He rolls his eyes in exasperation and fishes something out of his pockets. A gun maybe, or a knife? Or cash? He doesn’t look the type to carry cash. He pulls out his…Jaeger ID card.

He fans the card with his fingers, then points at your bag, then at a hotel near the city border.

It literally feels like you’ve been dragged into a game of charades that you didn’t sign up for, and now you have to play mime and guess with the fella that tried to kill you a few hours ago. Fuck.

Sukuna eventually grows frustrated and grabs your arm, pulling you with him. You resist by planting your foot on the ground, resulting in him dragging you to the hotel with your shoes making a crunchy noise.

“Are you going to kill those people just to get your way?!” You finally scream at him when you reach the hotel lobby, kicking and yelling. He completely ignores you and stomps straight to the receptionist.

To your utter shock, he slaps his Jaeger pilot ID card on the counter and intimidates the receptionists. Just when you’re about to laugh at him potentially getting arrested for his imbecilic behaviour, the receptionists does a double take at his ID and quickly enough, their entire demeanor switch.

Sukuna motions for you to come closer and you do, surprised as you see him with a hotel key in hand. Suite level too. Oh. Ohhhhh. This was what he was trying to tell you earlier. Jaeger pilots have special privileges in the city. Kind of like VIPs with free lounge experiences.

You get in the lift with him, grumbling under your breath that you don’t need his help and he can go die. Then it dawns on you that you had forgotten to get a room yourself and it’s too late to turn back and make a fool out of yourself. Fuck it, if there’s only one bed, you’re going to take over it like a throne.

Nearing the hotel room door, you slap your hand on the door before Sukuna gets to enter.

“I’m taking the bed.” You wish your eyes would shoot laser to glare at him so he would take you seriously, but he simply rolls his eyes and pushes the door open, letting you stumble a little.

“Don’t get it twisted now- Oh.”

There’s two single beds.

Sukuna turns his head back at you slowly with a cheesy smirk on his face, wiggling his brows to drink in your embarrassment. You shove your shoulders against him like a wrestler to barge into the room before him, claiming the bed by the window.

The night city view of Tokyo is breathtaking to say the least. Flashing lights and the faint signs of life from the night life, working men clanking their overflowing beers, college students going for late night rendezvous at karaokes. Of course, there’s bad in the shadow of the good. The red light district is very much alive as well, with people trying to get by with scraps in exchange for their flesh. Looking over towards the Anti-Kaiju wall, you catch the reflection of Sukuna pulling off his tank top in the reflection of the window.

“Wh-what are you doing?!” You spin around immediately, covering your eyes like a scandalized school girl. Other than being well built, the thing that truly catches your eye on Sukuna’s body is the nasty scars all over his abdomen. Furrowing your brows, your embarrassment turns into confusion, going closer to inspect at his skin. For some unknown reason, he lets you turn him around as you please.

The cuts are deep and almost intentional to torture, and too…centered.

You meet his eyes, brows furrowing with deep purplish heavy eyebags.

Sukuna points at the sea.

“No, it can’t be Kaiju.” You shut him down with a firm scold. His scars are coincidentally just located just underneath his tank top, as if someone deliberately cut them there out of sight. If this was caused by Kaiju, it would be more evenly scattered. What Sukuna has on his skin is human-made.

You think Sukuna can read your mind, because he shrugs you off when your eyes glazed over with a sudden realization on the origin on his scars. Can’t say it out loud. You’re desperate to meet his eyes for a strong denial, but all he gives you is the back of his head as he lays down on his bed.

“Sukuna.”

He doesn’t move.

“Sukuna. Do you still do it?”

No response.

Giving up on interrogating him, you quietly move to your own bed to lay down as well, knowing damn well you can’t sleep. Haunted reflection staring at you, mind conjuring up ridiculous theories on why someone as confident and aggressive like Sukuna would do such a thing to himself. Why did he follow you to sneak out the Shatterdome? Why would he reveal such an intimate piece of himself to you? This is fucking with your brain.

A warm trickle of blood from your nose makes you sit up, hastily grabbing a tissue from the hotel nightstand. Must be the stress accumulating these two days driving you up the wall. The hue of your blood reminds you of the Scarlet Asaemon. You wonder if it’s red because it was baptized in blood. Not Kaiju blue.

Rarely does despair ever wraps you in it’s cocoon when things are hard and the end of the tunnel is seemingly dark, but tonight it seems to have. Looking over at Sukuna’s asleep form, you wonder if it’s ethical to blame it all on him. Whether you like it or not, you’re both pilots with duties. Sukuna is ferocious on the field, certainly a very crucial piece on the chessboard. While you might harbor hatred for him, he’s an ironic hero for the citizens.

Then you’re choosing to leave like a coward.

You can live with that.

“You have to take me to a restaurant tomorrow.” You announce into the cold hotel room, knowing Sukuna cannot hear you.

---

“Why is Tokyo so fucking hot!”

Slick sweat drops hanging onto the edge of your brows, eyes barely open from the harsh sun rays beating down on you, you walk in the middle of the city in search for a cheap meal. Tokyo was a big city, you knew this. Tokyo was a big city packed with people and tall buildings and it makes the atmosphere warm and humid, you forgot this. Sukuna is behind you, knocking into passerby's shoulders because he simply can. He’s big and unruly and hungry. The worst part to highlight here is that he’s hungry.

Bickering and nagging him all morning during checkout that he should go the fuck back to the Shatterdome, but all he does is ignore you. Now he’s starving and blaming you as if you’re his guardian and you’re responsible for his well-being. He can die fuck all he wants if it weren’t for you needing him to guide you through the streets in Tokyo.

He must also partially be enjoying steering you around like a manual car stick, you think. He’ll suddenly grab your shoulder to startle you before turning you to make a sharp turn to the incoming street. You cuss him out every time, but again, he does not speak.

A small udon shop comes into view and Sukuna shoves himself past you to get inside first as if it was a first come first serve basis restaurant. Surely the Gods above has grown tired of you wishing for his death.

“One bowl of wakame udon, please.” You politely point at the picture on the menu, then Sukuna’s thick finger comes beside yours and jabs it repeatedly at the big portion option.

Swatting his hand away, you smile at the staff. Sukuna’s stare is almost murderous, grabbing onto your hand til it goes white.

You turn to look at him, veins popping at your forehead, nails digging into his rough palm to scrape off his skin.

He nods at the menu again, this time with angry childish pout.

You snarl at him.

“Two bowls of wakame udon please, one bowl with extra udon.”

As usual, Sukuna eats like a starved coyote with fresh rabbit corpse. Slurping loudly, soup splashing everywhere and onto his tank top as well. You’re forced to shrink your arms and eat beside him like a cornered rat, eating your own bowl like a prisoner. Where to next? You figured you should find out how to leave Tokyo by train. You’re sure to be stopped by the time you flash your passport at the check-in counter.

Sukuna slurps.

Maybe you could ask him.

“Oi.” You poke his arm. He swats you away.

“Oi.” Again.

You slap his chopsticks out of his hand.

“Mrph!” He turns to you with a loud grunt, the closest you get to making him speak. Drops of broth is glistening on his lips as he chews. His glare has never been more intent to kill as he grabs new chopsticks and continue to dig in. Fuck, he doesn’t even pick up the old ones. Now you’re causing a public commotion and you have to clean up after him. Fuck.

“Is there any way to go Hakodate by train?” You hand him a napkin, he shakes his head, “I plan to go back home. I don’t belong here.”

Sukuna stills for a moment, before slurping down his soup, and slamming the bowl right onto the wooden counter. Surely it blisters his nails as you recoil from his sudden aggression. Patrons around him hush at him, but of course he’s unbothered.

With a swing of his tatted arms, Sukuna makes some gestures, fast enough to miss it. Possibly be sign language, possibly he’s bullshitting you. But then he points his fingers right at your chest, the blunt tip of his broken nails seemingly poke into the ribs through your thin shirt. He slowly raises his finger to his lips. You stare.

He mouths something.

You…

Are…

Selfish…

I…

Like…

That.

“I’m selfish and you like that,” You repeat his ‘words’ in a huff. He nods with a patronizing smile.

He mouths again.

Selfish…

Is…

Good.

Spunk.

Survival.

Foregoing Sukuna’s criminal record and superiority complex, he’s oddly quite understanding about your desperate escape to survive. You’d assume he’s the type to reprimand you about being a coward and backing out, but he seems almost elated that you’ve made such a selfish decision to leave the city’s fate to it’s own without a Mark-7 to defend it.

“You’ll figure it out, right? Getting another co-pilot?” Not sure why you even asked him this when you’re fully aware that he won’t acquire another co-pilot anytime soon. It’s a drop in the ocean and it’s Kaiju infested. The Mark-7 won’t be operating soon after your departure.

He stands up and push his empty bowl to the side.

“Just show me the way to the station, please. You can always find a new pilot, right? You’ll be fine without me.” You plea in the softest voice you can manage. Sukuna rolls his eyes at your contradicting statements. More than a 100 candidates and only you have a link with him, yet you expect him to do fine without you? Not even the strongest vikings can power a Jaeger solo.

Sukuna cocks his head to the side once, before nodding and head out the door. You hurry to follow before Mr. Volatile change his mind.

Out in public again, this time he walks ahead of you like a service dog guiding it’s hopeless wander through the busy street. Turning back to look at you, he yanks your elbow in agitation to make you walk faster. You’re dragged across down the street, half tripping, half laughing and 100% enthusiasm. The overhead railway is closing in on you, so he’s truthful about aiding you in getting the fuck out of this city.

Sukuna’s large hands are really, really cold. Nothing like the explosive warmth and the shock of electricity that’s used to described the thrilling ache of first love. Does he always run so cold? His fingernails are bruised and purple. Why haven’t you noticed this in the days before? You have an urge to pull it towards your lips and blow on them to see if patches of goosebumps will raise. Considering his torso that you’ve bore witness to last night, you wonder if Sukuna is a touchy-feely person when it comes to intimacy, or maybe he fully avoids it.

Some kind of morbid curiosity reins you in by the neck and you pull him in with you, yanking his arm back roughly as if you’ve got a lasso around him. He turns to look at you incredulously.

“Sukuna, do you dislike being touched?” You blurt out, half-aware of the unintentional innuendo in it.

Sukuna merely shrugs his shoulders, continue to lead you to the station, even holding your arm when crossing the green light. Oddly maternal of him.

“I mean, does it bother you if people touch you? Nod for yes.” You change the trajectory of the question, he shakes his head. Ah, it seems there is a way for him to answer you if you’re clever about it.

A few more unanswered questions and shuffling footsteps, you’re brought to the train station. Sukuna heads for the ticketing machine, you watch him enter details. Strange. If he were a normal guy, the sight infront of you would be rather endearing. Guy purchasing a train ticket for you in a hurry to catch the train. He used his own money as well. Nice.

Turning to you, he hands you the ticket the machine chips out. Taking it in your hands, a lingering feeling of relief and contradictory unease raises within you like two fighting forces. You’re abandoning your responsibility. You’re going home. You’re being a coward and running away. You’re being brave and escaping from here. Only you know the truth.

“Thank you,” You whisper, “I mean, no, I just- No thank you for almost having me killed, but thank you for helping me- i guess-whatever. You vex me in this period of short time we’ve known each other.” Your own reply frustrates you as much as it embarrasses you, biting your lip and pushing his shoulder in a show of a childish rebuttal.

Sukuna merely graces you with a crooked smile, giving you a sarcastic thumbs down. Charming, really.

“Thanks.” You mouth.

Don’t come back. He mouths.

You nod. Why would you anyways?

The sound of an approaching train screeches your ears, and you look back at Sukuna one last time before getting onto the number 4 cabin.

I mean it. He mouths.

Without warning, Sukuna shoves you onto the train just before the door closes, spared from your anger by the train departing. He’s intolerable, christ.

Declaring your ticket to the ticket master and requesting for a cup of hot tea, you find an empty spot by the window to settle down yourself. It’s been a long day. Fishing your phone out your bag, you shoot a text to your mother that you’re coming home. She’s working at this hour, so perhaps you’ll surprise her with your presence when you get there. She’ll probably say “Oh thank heavens!”. Maybe a good old “Where have you been?”.

Reaching for the cup of hot tea on the table, you stir it a little. The ripples and steam from the tea does not disrupt your contemplating thoughts, nor does it ease it. Sukuna is right. Being a Jaeger pilot is something you signed up for, and you don’t get to decide the battles that you’re assigned to now, but at the same time, you do have the right to run off. You can’t go back now, can you?

It doesn’t matter if you don’t belong in Tokyo. The Mark-7 chose you, and somehow, your brain has chose to line up with Sukuna’s just enough to succeed a neural handshake. You’re abandoning a responsibility. It echoes in your headspace like a train going circles. The city will be fine. You’re not crucial to the team. It’ll be fine.

Closing your eyes, you hope you arrive safely in Hakodate.

--

“Ryomen, where have you been? Where’s the new girl?"

Upon facing Yaga’s interrogating questions, Sukuna pays him no mind, walking by him as usual. He’s aware of the privilege he has in here, and the more privilege you have, the less you’re obligated to give an explanation for anything you do. Plus, no one could really buttheads with him when it comes down to it. Everyone knows it.

He’s unsure how to feel after finally plucking you away from the Tokyo Shatterdome. You had said he vexed you, but you had irked him all the same. Naive country bumpkin who runs off with her tail between her legs upon the first high level Kaiju confrontation. Laughable. But commendable that you planned your escape so quickly. He suppose he can give his compliments where it’s due.

Passing by your room to reach his own, he looks across the corridor into yours. Undone bed and crinkled blankets. Typical. Untidy and unprepared. Something pink is under your bed. Dang it, did you leave your little plushie behind?

Sukuna steps into the uncharted territory of your room, used to be your room, and grabs ahold onto the plushie you accidentally left under your bed. It’s a little panther. It’s frowning. Sukuna is frowning back at it.

Hmph.

He throws it on your bed for the cleaners to recycle it tomorrow. Leave it for the next orphan in the slums.

Turning towards his own room, he sheds his shirt and pants, slamming the door with a lock. Sukuna is the type to enjoy a long bath than a quick shower, so he absolutely hates getting called in when he’s relaxing himself.

Yaga had one time kick down his door, and Sukuna showed no shame and simply opened his legs wider in the tub. The recruits and other pilots discussed discreetly about his private areas for the week. Yaga deemed it a distraction and added a rule about publicly discussing obscenities.

Letting the water run and fill the tub, he slips in, uncaring about the water sloshing out a little.

Running over the scars on his stomach, he recalls the look on your face. That hint of abject pity with a mixture of anger.

He was sure you’d have told him to stop hurting himself upon seeing it, but maybe within you, you had a side to you that seemed to understand why he had did what he’d done. He misjudged you a little. Certainly people are dimensional and complex, even if they’re not up to par of who he considers to be a prime candidate of a Jaeger pilot.

Lathering sudsy soap over his body, Sukuna makes a flippant decision that he’ll perhaps be on short-lived vacay as long as they dont find him a new co-pilot soon. Then he’ll just be forced to train other pilots for 4 hours in his day. Rest of the day he can just eat and sleep. Don’t get him wrong, he loves fighting on and off field, but who doesn’t love a good nap?

Drying himself off, he heads out for his usual dinner, but stops in his tracks upon seeing your plushie in the trashbag. The cleaner is in your room. Sukuna ignores the dried out brown stain on the cleaner’s shirt. Usually, they’d take care of the body of a deceased pilot before cleaning out their room. In your case, its an easy clean.

The panther seems to look straight into his eyes.

A bite on the lip and a quick check for his surroundings as if he’s jaywalking, Sukuna snags the plushie and throws it onto his bed before locking his door.

Thursday rolls around, and fortunately for a bastard like him, Sukuna really does get his days off. The Kaiju’s have been laying off and allows everyone room to breathe. Yaga is already searching for a new co-pilot for him, but from the whispers Sukuna hear in passing, you hadn’t picked up the phone. Seems like you’re really determined to stay put.

Sukuna’s favorite place in the Shatterdome is ironically, not within it’s confining walls, but rather the rooftop. Jogging up there and staring at the broken and battered Anti-Kaiju wall that’s littered with destroyed machinery and construction workers that are constantly fixing it.

Yuji.

Sukuna clenches his jaw.

Parkour-ing with the gracefulness of a nimble gymnast, Sukuna finally reaches that one point on the rooftop that allows him to see through the tiny gap between the Anti-Kaiju wall and the city building. It perfectly aligns with the sunset. Also aligns whenever a Kaiju surfaces from the water.

Sukuna sees himself as this crack in the wall An unconventional anomaly within the Jaeger pilots. Too strong to pair with any other pilots, yet he is not worshiped or praised for his strength. Afterall, piloting a Jaeger relies on bonding more than anything. Yaga can’t get rid of him as well, so Sukuna is stuck mostly training the pilots, but none has ever came as close as his own brother, Yuji.

Thinking about Yuji gives him a headache, a bitter taste in his mouth, so Sukuna lies down and let the breeze dissolve away his inhibitions.

“Sukuna, do you still do it?”

Sukuna doesn’t like to talk, he doesn’t want to speak and be responsible for the consequences of his words. Be it a punch to the stomach and a slap to his cheek, it is easier to say nothing and mind his business at all times.

When you had asked him if he stills cut himself, he had the urge to speak for the first time. You didn’t pay attention, but he had mouthed something. He wanted to tell you these were old scars. You have a bad eye for scarring tissues, which tells him you lived a good life. A bandaid to every little wound you have gotten since you were young, while he had bumpy knees from the skin constantly getting ripped and torn out from fighting the arrests from officials after he’s been caught stealing or shoplifting.

Despite all the praise about his strength and talents, Sukuna believes that it never about who is more talented, but rather who is hungrier. The prize is a simple loaf of bread. A starving child will always outrun the kid who always had bread for breakfast.

A few birds flock by.

A silver falcon caws as it soars the sky.

He sits up with a jerk, his body as if on preemption mode.

A loud blaring alarm suddenly goes off, Sukuna looks towards the crack in the wall.

Kaiju.

“It’s another Category 4.” The intercom rings out from the speakers as he sprints towards the station to check out the situation. Yaga is gesturing wildly at the operators to prepare against the Kaiju that’s drawing near, his right hand holding his phone up to his ear. Upon seeing Sukuna’s scarred face grace his presence, Yaga stops him with a hand to his face. Sukuna waits.

“Come up to the Conn-pod, we’ll suit you up.” Yaga shouts into the phone. He gives Sukuna a push towards the Conn-pod despite his confusion. He has no co-pilot, what the fuck is he suppose to do other than enjoying the shitshow-

“I’m here! I’m here!”

Sukuna whips his head to the voice in disbelief.

“Why did you come back?”

“Huh?”

The clinking of forks and spoon stop, looking up to your mother while she waits for you to answer her question. Why did you come back? Isn’t it simple enough? You wish to be closer to family and you’re scared to die. That’s why.

“I just didn’t want to die in Tokyo,” you give a bitter smile, the soup going cold in your bowl, “It’s tougher in Tokyo, mummy. You don’t even know. I almost died from the Category 4 kaiju.”

“But you didn’t.” Your father emphasized, putting his fork down as well.

“I know,” your volume raises, “Point is, I don’t belong there. That’s for the elites. They are the ones who are suitable to be the big heroes.”

“Do you really think that way?” Your mother asks.

The flickering overhead lights at the dining table was soon going blue and cold. Ever since you got back two days ago, your parents don’t seem to be as delighted as they should be about your return. Rather, they’ve been watching the news a lot about the recent Kaiju attacks, then giving you a contemplating gaze. Nobody is happy you’re home, and even yourself.

You can’t return to the Shatterdome in Hakodate as well, they’ll question you on how you got back since Yaga did not issue you a permit to return to your home town. If anything, you’re a soldier leaving your post. You have to lay low for a while. It’s cowardly, and the shame is now starting to catch up to you.

“What are you doing?” Reaching out to snap her fingers at your dazed face, your mother’s anger seems to fray.

“Mum, I don’t-I don’t understand. Dad, you’re both unhappy about me coming back. Do you guys want me to die out there or something?” Something uncomfortable starts to prick at your waterline, filling it up with tears.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. We didn’t raise you to die, yes. But you’re needed on the field. The more we wait here like sitting ducks, the more Kaiju emerges. Can you live with yourself knowing that you have a chance to aid humanity?”

“I’m not that important.” You criticize yourself.

Your parents meet eyes for a moment, before looking back at you.

“Says who?”

Sukuna loudly scoffs as his drivesuit lines down his torso. You blush at the prospect that he had just gotten a glimpse into your memories and the cheesy lecture that your parents had given you for running away. Sukuna had dared you to not return, and now you’re in the Mark-7 with him again, heading for the sea, drifting with him again.

“So much for telling me you wanna go home, little girl.” Sukuna chides in the mental headspace you both share.

“I’ll explain later,” You meekly reply, flexing your fingers to refamiliarize yourself with the system again. You’ve left for less than a week, it should be fine. “Have you been fine?”

“Did leaving for a few days made you forget your hatred towards me?” There’s amusement in between his lines.

“It’s hard for me to hold grudges. I think i’m a decently amicable person.”

“Awfully naive you mean. Not nervous about the Category 4 anymore?”

“Ya. Hard carry me?”

He laughs.

“Oh, so I’m gonna do all the work, huh?”

“I’m technically still new.”

“Do you make your partners in bed do all the work too?”

Sukuna’s intrusive question embarrasses you, and you decide to ignore him until the Kaiju is settled with. Heading deeper into the ocean, you prepare for the shield to aid him, expecting Sukuna to finish off the fight fast with high spirits.

But this time, the Kaiju posed to be a challenge. It might have studied and learned from the previous battle with the other Kaiju a few days back. Call it evolution or adapting, because this breed of Kaiju now has a thicker neck with sharp spikes on it’s head as skin. They’re evolving at an alarmingly fast pace.

“Sukuna, go for the neck again. Confirm status of it’s evolution.”

Nodding with Sukuna, you coordinate your movements to strike at the Kaiju’s neck. The chainsaw drills at the skin, it barely scrapes the surface. The creatures have learned. Something’s not right.

“It’s thicker now.” You report back.

“It’s not usually this fast.” The intercom crackles.

Sukuna hacks at the Kaiju again, changing the chainsaw into a simple sharp blade, slicing over it repeatedly until it bleeds blue. His focus is eerie, and he’s entering that state of mind where you know he will not spare your sanity or his own, for the sake of this kill. This time, you don’t resist, you fight with him. With the right hand of the Jaeger, you yank at the Kaiju for it to stay still. It punches and punches. Sukuna hacks and hacks.

Until one of it’s punches lands in the terminal pod, and the glass starts to crack.

“Sukuna!” You urge him, “Get the job done faster!”

He doesn’t respond, but the veins in his neck has popped out, and the next slash landed half way through it’s neck. The Kaiju lands another blow at the glass, and it grabs onto the Jaeger’s body as it falls back into the ocean for it’s death, taking you both with him. You try to disarm yourself from the Drivesuit, but it gets stuck while it’s submerged into the sea water.

“Fuck fuck fuc-!” Gurgling for your last breath, you panic. The sea water has entirely flooded the pod, and Sukuna is— Sukuna is missing! He got out of his Drivesuit before you!

One more frantic head turn to the right, you see him opening the emergency escape latch. You try to scream underwater, but it chokes you just as much as your vision goes hazy. Is he really leaving you to die? Is this it?

Sukuna’s pink hair is the last thing you see before the sound of your Drivesuit disarming and your torso is yanked right out of it.

—---

The way you gasp awake is no less pathetic than the first time he had knocked you out, except this time, Sukuna was there to witness it.

Your hair was disgusting. Wet and clinging to the bed of the medic room. A pool of sea water seeps out around you as you sit up and start running your mouth so quickly that he feels too lazy to really comprehend. It goes in from his right ear and smoothly goes out from the left.

Then you had asked him in that awfully surprised tone of voice why he had saved you, which made it worse, because he didn’t know why either. It was not a decision he made from logic, it came from his chest. He begrudgingly saved you from the basic instinct of wanting to hear you bicker at him the next morning, nothing else.

Sukuna was about to leave before you latched onto his arm.

“Thank you.” You softly spoke.

He almost flung you to the wall by reflex. But as tenacious and shakened as an abused military-trained dog, Sukuna drops his forehead on yours, and simply nuzzles it twice, and ups to leave without turning back.

“No, it’s a fever. I went to the doctor’s. Got my meds. I’m fine, and I’m sticky, don’t-” He sighs, trying to pull you away by the waist, “I don’t think you should be around me right now.”

“What?! You don’t like me anymore?” You pull away looking upset and about to cry, then he finds himself softening even more and conclude that you soothe his sickness just as much as you raise his temperature. Having a girlfriend means you have to accept someone cares for you, and he cares just the same. 5 months into dating, he still struggles to understand how helpless he is when you’re present. Sukuna does not recognize himself around you, but he does recognize the scent of your skin even when he’s sick.

“No, that’s not what I meant, you know that. Your immune system is frailer than mine. You’re gonna get sick too…” He comforts you a little while coughing, giving you a rare pleading look for you to listen to him once. But of course, his girlfriend wouldn’t be his girlfriend if she wasn’t so stubborn. So, you decide to push him down gently on his bed despite his resistance, and you start acting busy.

By “acting busy”, it means frantically grabbing a cup of hot water for him, but almost burning yourself with the thermal water. Trying to reach the top of his closet for more blankets to cover up his shivering body, but you’re not tall enough so you proceed to almost give him a heart attack by standing on his wobbly study chair to grab it. Sukuna thinks you should go home for the sake of his wellbeing.

If not for the rain during the rugby tournament two days ago, he thinks he wouldn’t have gotten so ill. The acid rain paired with an injured leg and running on an empty stomach was killing him.

“I told you to eat more! You loved to eat!”

“Sweetheart you know I control my body fat before my games. It’s mandato- ahem- mandatory.”

“Just be fat then!” You scold him as you cover him with the 2 blankets you found, overlapping them. Sukuna wonders if you’re aware that there’s still dust on the blanket and he’s damn well about to sneeze. You’re in sneeze range. He tries to hold it in but his unfortunately silly clumsy girlfriend with a sensitive nose decided to sneeze first, and you muttered a shy “xcuse mi” before turning away to find his meds. He sighs.

“Hey…but you love my abs. How else can I maintain my abs if i don’t control my body fat and go to the gym?” He lazily grins at the sight of your figure in his room.

“D-don’t get smart with me when you have a fever! I like you with a bit of belly too, whatever.” You turn around with a blush on your face, pretending to hit him. He coughs.

“Guess I’m ‘big’ enough for you.” Sukuna whispers, giving you a little wink after his little innuendo. How he’s even talking like a cheeky clown while bedridden with high fever, you don’t know. Maybe he’s getting into boyfriend mode right now.

“Pervert! Sick pervert! Go die!”

Okay, fine. If he’s going to die seeing his girlfriend as the last 7 minutes of his life, he can live with that. Sukuna wouldn’t miss anyone as much as you, but he keeps this to himself.

“I am actually sick, so…”

“I-I mean sick in the head!”

After fussing and a lot of back and forth eye rolling, you finally get him to take his meds. He’s a lot weaker than you expected. It’s your first time seeing your boyfriend so…so…You can’t voice out this oddly giddy feeling in your chest. Too taboo and controversial. There’s something wrong with you ever since the moment you got into his room.

It must be because you’re used to him pampering and spoiling you that you’re entirely clueless on the instructions and guidelines to taking care of others. As a friend, you’re great with words of encouragement. However, as a girlfriend, all you’ve done is awkwardly blushing and shyly asking for hugs and kisses. Sukuna cooks during homedates. Sukuna massages your feet when you cramp up. Sukuna helps you with homework.

Sukuna makes sure you feel good first before he does when you have sex.

Watching him with jelly limbs and a soft voice, helpless and pitiful…was doing something to your hungry gut. Not sure why. You just had a big breakfast earlier before rushing over after getting a text from Toji that Sukuna left his phone at his place and he’s sick.

“Why are you redder than I am?” Sukuna yawns from under his blankets, smiling with a sleazy grin. His fingers poke out underneath the fabric, gently running his thumb over your knee as you approach to sit on the edge of his bed. Such a tease even when he barely has the energy to move.

“It’s just…” You pout in embarrassment, “It’s my first time seeing you so…weak. You’re like…a…a baby..and I’m taking care of you…I like it.” Leaning over him more, you wipe away his sweat with a wet towel you got from his bathroom.

“Me being weakened is…appealing you?” He asked curiously.

“I guess. Dunno. You just look so cute…” You respond, hoping it doesn’t sound like you’re happy about his sickness.

“Mhm. That’s how you usually are to me,” His canines poke out with his smirk, less smug than usual, “Pitiful, cute and helpless.”

“I-i’m not helpless. I’m just- I’m just a bit slow…” You roll your eyes, trying not to be flustered over Sukuna’s words. So that’s how he views you. His little girlfriend who makes him have this urge to do things for you. To him, you’re sick all the time.

“I take care of you.” He mumbles.

“Um...” Your eyes dart to the side.

“You know you’re spoilt, huh?” He gently smiles, one hand pinching your lower lip lightly while the other on your knee slowly travels up your butt, grabbing a handful to squeeze. He watches with a yearnful exhale when you grab his wrist shyly, eyes wide and suddenly quiet. No matter how many times he flirts with you or makes a move on you, you still react as if it was your first day reporting in duty as “Sukuna’s girlfriend.”

“Perv…” You murmur. He gets a few more delightful squeezes before surrendering to your grip, placing his slimy hands on your thighs respectfully while you wipe at his sweat.

Can’t lie, the first day he reported in as your “Boyfriend”, it was serious for him. Sukuna never had a girlfriend before, used to simply fool around in his younger years where puberty hormones had did a great number on his libido, giving him a huge growth spurt in masculinity. At the time, the concept of romantice desire and affections was too foreign and irrational for him to accept that it could ever happen to him.

Sukuna couldn’t understand how his little brother Yuji fell in love with his friend Megumi, noting the differences in personality. He deemed romantic love incomprehensible, until love hit him like a freight train and he’s tied to the train tracks like a suicide attempt. You are nothing like him. You’re awkward, out of place, frequently impulsive and constantly, horribly charming.

He was right. It is incomprehensible. How your stupid puns got a chuckle out of him, he doesn’t know. He swore he was possess by a laughing ghost. How the little spots of acne scars make him do a double take, he doesn’t know. He swore he was possess by a dermatologist when he bought you some cream a few days later and you had gotten better from it. Then you hugged him all friendly with a loud ‘thank you bro!’ and all he could do was push you away because you’re too close to his personal space and he’s not your “bro”.

“Stop looking at me. So awkward.” You cover his eyes. Now he likes your personal space more than you do and he’s definitely not your “bro”.

Sukuna’s eyes crinkle with mirth.

“This reminds me of the time when your chicken wing flew to my face, and you kept trying to wipe my face clean.”

“Oh my gawd don’t bring that up.” The memory instantly has you burying yourself down onto the bedridden man’s chest, cheeks aflame. He’s talking about the first time you met at the cafeteria. Trying so hard to separate the chicken from the small bones with your fork and spoon, the tension broke and it jerked all the way to the next table where Sukuna and his friend Toji sat. Toji pointed a finger at him and laughed so loud everyone saw.

Running his warm palm over your back to pat you, Sukuna swears he can feel the little bump and ridges of your spine. The delicate curve from nape to pelvis. Maybe he’s just losing it because he hasn’t seen you in almost a week and a half due to his tournament. You had a special agreement that you would not see each other before big exams and games, just so you wouldn’t get too distracted by each other.

“I missed you quite a lot, honestly.” He whispers with all the mental strength he can muster.

“Missed yew tew,” Your confession muffles against his shirt, “Now you’re sick…” You raise your head to rest your chin on his chest, looking longingly down at Sukuna before wiping away his sweat again. He’s suppose to feel sleepy after his meds, but it seems like your boyfriend is fighting the sleep.

“I feel bad…” A small shuffle up and you plant a chaste kiss to his nose tip, dodging his attempt to kiss your lips.

“You feel bad, yet I’m banned from getting a kiss from my girlfriend.” His nose scrunches, displeased.

“You’re gonna infect me too!” You complain, squeezing his cheeks as an apology.

“Then you should tell me about your week, or something. I can’t sleep with you lying on me like this.” He pats your hair.

“Why not? You never complained I was too heavy, should I get up?” You try to get up, but Sukuna quickly yanks you back down, shaking his head softly.

“No, I mean, I…” He coughs, “You’re really distracting. My girlfriend’s lying ontop of my chest, and I can’t do anything other than go to sleep. So show me mercy and talk me to sleep.”

Recoiling away with a scandalized face, you smack Sukuna’s chest, twice as light as before since he’s sick.

“Y-you thinking about sex even when you’re sick?!” You hush whisper at him, as if someone was eavesdropping on your naughty conversation.

“You just kissed me,” He deadpans. You turn your head back to notice the small tent growing from under the blanket, then whip your head back in horror, now terribly aroused by your debuffed boyfriend still being able to get hard even through his condition. It might be true the penis has it’s mind of it’s own.

“Oh.” You puff your cheeks.

“You don’t seem particularly angry about my erection.” Sukuna bluntly speaks, quirking a mischievious brow. Are you actually entertaining the idea of having sex with him while he’s sick? No, it can’t be, can it? His sweet girlfriend who’s a closeted pervert? Possibly cannot be. So he pulls his arms out fully from under the blankets and grabs your neck and your upper arm, pulling you down for another kiss. You swerve him again, but you don’t stop him when his sloppy kisses go from jaw to neck, all the way down your collarbone and you whimper.

“We can’t! You’ll exhaust yourself.” You whine with no fight, holding onto his thick forearms, not meaning to pry them off at all. Alas, Sukuna succumbs to his dizziness and slumps back down on the bed, a frustrated sound escaping his throat.

“Ya horny bloke,” You joke with a goofy accent, ignoring the fact that he’s looking at you all panting and needy. He gives you a wistful smile, slow blinking.

Then a eureka pops into your brain and you’re firm to say that his lust has rubbed off on you because what you’re about to say will render both of you speechless.

“Wh-what if I try topping you for once?” Your voice meek and encouraging.

Sukuna’s eyes blow wide and awake, left eye twitching twice for a good omen.

A beat.

“I think my dick is fully hard now.” He blurts out.

“Yeeerrrr, pervert.” You giggle.

“No ‘takeback-sies’. Or whatever you like to say.” He jests.

Lacing your nimble fingers over his callous and scarred ones, you lean down hesitantly some more, gently nuzzling the tip of your nose with his, before pulling down the blanket by a small margin. Afraid of him to shiver and get cold, you dare not to pull back too much, but a feverish Sukuna is haughty and impatient, so he pushes off his blanket himself to lean up a little, kissing the side of your hair.

“Pull me up.” He urges, sultry voice strained with urgency.

“You’re like, shockingly impatient when you’re sick, noooo cannn doooo.” You sing with a betraying curl of a smirk on your face, basking in all the power you have over him now that he’s as docile as a lamb. He scoffs with a choked cough, before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer, quietly demanding you to do something before his dick explodes out his pants.

“Come on, sweetheart…I’m dying here.” The veins on his hands pop and protest with the harsh grip he has on your hips now, eyes conveying a sweet subservience. You debate within yourself if you should pull him up, but you decide to keep your upper hand and play your cards right.

“Only because you look so cute right now.” You whisper playfully into his ear, before slowly snaking your hand from his tattoed chest down to his firm stomach. The moment you feel his tented boxers, you let out a dorky squeak.

“Is my dick ‘cute’ too?.” Sukuna smirks, his sweaty palm pressing your hand down harder on his hard-on through his boxers, then he groans and whimpers in the same sound.

“Wah...!” You squeal, feeling his manhood twitch and jerk. You once told him a penis is like a worm to you, since it squirms and moves. Sukuna chuckled at you then, and asked you if you were fine with trying out “edible worms”. You smacked him for his lewd joke.

“Well,” He sniffles, “Since my cruel girlfriend won’t pull me up to sit, I guess you could try giving me a handjob. You know what’s that right?” He mocks with amusement.

“Don’t mock me! I know what’s that!”

“Okay, so…miss girlfriend, would you oh so kindly demonstrate once for me? I’m just a frail, bed-ridden patient after all.” He smirks.

“R-roleplay?” You stammer in surprise.

“Oh, I was joking, but I’m down, Doc. Fix me up?”

“Stop it. I’m shy...” You look away with an escalating heartbeat, no good at hiding your feelings.

“Awh. Too bad.” He feigns innocence, licking his dry lips in anticipation. He watches you get all shy and jittery before pushing your fingers into his boxers. His hips buck up on reflex the moment your cold hands touches his hot skin, his short cut nails on your waist almost tears into your shirt.

“Fuck, your hand feel extra cold when I’m sick. Shit, I might cum real fast.” His breathing starts to quicken even more, and you’re now wondering if it’s a really bad idea to be making him pant and heave while he’s already riding on a high fever and sore limbs, but Sukuna’s hand isn’t stopping, guiding you to torturously stroke him.

It’s slippery, you’re uncertain if it’s his precum or your palms being sweaty from nervousness and arousal that you’re jerking off your boyfriend for the first time like an amateur. You could hardly get used to the feeling of a penis. Meanwhile, Sukuna frantically reaches for the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it up, but you stop him quickly. He swats your hand away.

“No no! I promised today it’s about your pleasure! Don’t overexert your-”

“I can’t cum if you don’t- cough moan for me. Fucking- come here.” Sukuna’s temperature must be going up higher, noted by the way he’s rough in pulling up your shirt and stuffing the hem of it in your mouth. You shyly comply and bite it down before he pulls up your bra to let your boobs spill out. He’s usually a lot more teasing and sensual during foreplay, so the fever must be making his head spin like a centrifuge.

“I said stay still!” You shout, letting your shirt off your mouth and cover yourself again, squeezing his dick harder and press your thumb into his tip, making the big man below you shudder and throw his head back on the pillow, flushed and profusely sweating even more.

“Let me suck your tits,” He pants, one hand coming up to squeeze your boob through your shirt, relishing in the way you try to wiggle away but pump his dick sloppier as you do. Oh, it’s so good how bad you are at getting him off, that its getting him off anyways. His girlfriend who is really clueless at sex, is really good at being clueless at sex.

Sukuna can feel himself on the verge of cumming so hard from the tension in his spine and thighs. Just watching the way you fumble all over yourself trying to service him was his form of foreplay. He takes a mental note to fake being sick a few more times after this just so you could try “topping” him. Shit.

Something about the way you’re a novice at pleasure is extremely arousing to him. He was already your first, but he enjoys how you still get redfaced every single time you have sex. No matter how many times he tries to teach you, you’re still learning way too slowly.

He taught you how to kiss, but every now and then you still get the tempo wrong and drool all over his chin. He taught you how to grind yourself down at him, but you always exhaust yourself before you get to cum, angrily proclaiming you “give up at this sex thing” before he gives in and helps you.

Sukuna reckons some people are just meant to be pillow princesses. You’re already all worked up just from giving him a handjob, who knows what happens if you put your mouth on him? Sukuna groans out loud at his own fantasy.

“Do you- Do you want to put your mouth on my dick?” His eyes glazed over with lust.

“B-blow job?” You freeze, pausing your hand as well. Sukuna recognizes that you’re a little scared now, and squeezes your hand.

“Uh- no, yes, but sweetheart, I’m not going to be rough with you, trust me.” He tries to sit up, you push him back down.

“Can I just lick?”

“Yes, that’s what I meant. I didn’t say blow me, I said-…Fuck baby, I was gonna cum before you stopped.” He rubs his face in frustration.

“Oh! Sorry!” Your hand fumble to pump him again, but it seems that missing his orgasm was making Sukuna so frustrated that he looks properly in pain, covering his eyes with his hand and the other still on your waist. Are you the world’s most terrible girlfriend ever?!

To make matters worse, you can feel him starting to go soft.

No no no!

“Ryo I’m so sor-”

In a fast motion, Sukuna somehow managed to sit up right with a grunt and drags you to straddle him, ignoring your soft yelp. He starts to bunch up your shirt again.

“You tryna edge me, girlfriend? I’ll have you know I'm really horny. I’m really bad when I’m horny.” He grits, brows furrowing tightly, trying to suppress the sadistic smile that’s appearing on his face. Straining himself and being in pain to have sex is oddly turning him on. What’s that about sadomasochism?

“I swear I wasn’t…” Reflexes have you automatically loop your arms around his neck, looking at him like a pitiful thing. Sukuna lets out an angry growl at your genuine sadness, more so angry at himself being unable to practice self control around you. But fuck, he’s out of it.

He kisses your forehead and nuzzles it with his own, shutting his eyes close for a brief moment of composure.

“Listen to me sweetheart. How about you jerk me off while I suck your tits? I wanna suck your tits. I can’t cum if you don’t feel good.” He licks your collarbone, and you can feel how hot his breath is, “Don’t you want to make me cum?” He coos.

“I-I do!”

“So be a good girl and don’t think too much.”

Pushing his thumb in your mouth, Sukuna leans down to suck at your breast. It lacks his usual speed due to how tired he is, but its more sensual now from his kitten licks. His tongue trembles as he swirls, weak as he bites your nipple and breathes out loudly when he sucks on it hard.

Your mewls and whimper go directly into his eardrums, making his dick hard again and begging to be relieved. You listen to him and pump him fast without stopping, occassionally being too rough, getting lost in the feeling of Sukuna’s mouth on you. He doesn’t complain however, his breathing seems to get louder and louder until he finally jerks his hip up in a stutter and fuck your fist.

Your thighs rub together on instinct, getting awfully wet from the sounds of his pleasure and how delirious it is to have sex while he’s running hot and cold. You want to cum, you want Sukuna to cum, you want to cum together.

“Fuck! I’m gonna-” Sukuna cums loud, louder than usual with his hoarse voice and right into the hollow of your neck. Nipples lathered in his drool, he continues to tweak and pinch them even as he blows his load, hot white fluid splattering on your pumping hand. His thumb pops out your mouth and he swipes it over your nipple, making you shake.

Jaw slack with drool, Sukuna shoves his hand under your thighs and into your shorts, just to feel how wet you got for him. His dick twitches when he feels that wet, hot spot on your panties, and he’s guessing it’s probably the purple cotton one. He loves it this one in particular, because it’s thinner and he can feel the bump of your small clit through it. Rubbing it once, you cry out and he moans, greedy to make you wetter. His freehand kneads your ass again just to ground himself.

“God I want to lick your pussy so fucking bad.” He bites down at his own lip, his forearm getting sore and stuttering as he rubs you off. He knows he won’t be able to make you cum since he’s got no strength to fuck you right now, but god he wants to put his tongue to work. He wants to eat something and it’s only available inside the offensive barrier of your panties and his health.

“R-ryo you can’t…” You whine, thumbing his tip and feeling more semen ooze out of his dick.

“I know, I-I know. Hah.” He nods vigorously in resignation against your neck, peppering it with praising kisses, cursing out until he finally pulls his hand out from your shorts to suck on his fingers, desperate for the taste of your wetness on his fingers. He’ll be sure to make it up to you once he recovered.

“Think I’m gonna faint.”

“Ryomen!”

“Don’t leave.” Sukuna warns under his breath, you swiftly push him back down his bed. Rushing to get a towel, you wipe off the cum on your belly first, before wiping him down and pull his boxers back up. He’s sweating more after he came, flushed red and lightheaded. Rinsing a clean towel, you place it over his forehead.

Gazing down at your boyfriend who immediately passed out after your little session, you bury your face in your palms, your face hot and blooming. Why is sex with Sukuna always so hot? Maybe it’s because he’s hot. Or maybe because he wants you so much it’s hot.

Shaking your head, you open his closet again to pull out a small spare futon that he has stored in there. Sukuna bought this futon for his friends who used to like sleeping over at his dorm, but now it’s mostly used for the both of you. No, not to sleep, for…sex… You blush at the memory. Floor sex is great.

Anyhow, you lay out the futon on the floor and decide to sleep in for the night, watching over him tonight. He’ll definiely get angry with you for sleeping on the floor and not with him, but that’s tomorrow’s issue.

“Goodnight, boyfieee.”

No response.

“I’m so cringe…” You say to no one.

“…”

“I heard that.” A raspy whisper cuts through the sudden silence.

“Hey! You’re awake! Asshole!” You flush, embarrassed.

"Come here." He pats his bed twice.

"Go sleep!" You argue.

“Get up here right now before I come down there and scoop you up.” He orders.

You relent with a pout on your face. Best not to argue with a sick man.

Pulling off his shirt, Sukuna lets your hands touch on his tattoos, smugly showing off his muscles and wink nonchalantly. You giggle and he leans down on his elbows, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

Soft giggles morph into lewd noises of embarrassed pleasure when his sniffs turn into hot licks on your neck and nibbles on your collarbone. Impatient, Sukuna’s hands trail up your ribcage and snake under your filmsy tank top that he can rip apart with ease, but he doesn’t, just to tease himself with your skin.

“So soft.” His large, rough hands finally reached their destination on your breasts. Soft, pillowy and spilling out between the gaps of his fingers, he squeezes and kneads. You cover your mouth to hold in a moan.

With a frown, he grabs your wrists away with a shake to his head, his freehand pushing her tank top and bra up above your chest.

“Nice boobs.” He says flatly, staring at your hard nipple.

“Stop, who even says it like that? So awkward.” You shiver and he laughs.

“What should I have said then? Like the guy in that historical romance book you read?” He chuckles, “What did he say again? Your bosoms are exquisite baby.” He imitates a lousy accent and you smack his chest in embarrasment.

“Still awkward!” You complain.

“I’ll show you awkward.” He says before he dives down to latch onto your right nipple, sucking and swirling his pierced tongue over it. The cold from the steel and heat from his saliva was driving you delirious and helpless, pulling his hair and whining for mercy. Now that’s awkward. You choke on your own moan.

Sukuna likes to stare. The most simple way to put it. His eyes are locked on your jaw, your nose, the flutter of your eyes everytime he swirls his tongue, biting your nipple gently and then pull it between his teeth to make you plead for release. He’s pretty sure the growing heat he’s feeling inside his body is heading down south to his leaking cock.

Releasing you nipple with a wet pop, his saliva trail follows down as he kisses down your middle to your bellybutton. Another kiss and wide lick at your womb, he goes further down, fingers pullling your shorts down your legs.

All the while, You whine and hold onto his messy pink hair. Too short to pull, just enough to yank. Noticing Sukuna heading downwards for your cunt, you close your legs with haste, cheeks red.

“Y-you don’t have to…"

“I want to. I’m better than everyone before me. I gurantee it.” He announces confidently before trying to go down again, but you yank his hair back up, frantic with embarrassment.

“N-no…I’m serious. I’ve never done this before…” You sniffle.

“What? No one ever gone down on you?” Sukuna almost sounds offended that your previous lovers did not want to indulge in the taste of you.

You nod, and he huffs.

“That’s fine. I’ll be the first and the last to enjoy this pussy-”

“I mean, technically you are my first…”

Sukuna’s head snaps up to meet your gaze. His eyes wide with surprise and a sudden flash of primal lust. He crawls back up to come face to face with you, a question hanging off the tip of his tongue.

“You…Are you a virgin?” His voice almost sounded excited and morbidly frightened, something perverted and depraved coming out of his usual persona.

“Y-yes? Ya? Was it not…obvious?” Replying him awkwardly, you fidget with the waistband of your own panties, wondering what’s running through his mind right now. Surely he had to have picked up on your inexperience within these two months you’ve been dating, right? Unless he thinks highly of you to have bagged a few guys before him…?

But Sukuna is your first everything, though you’re not his first at all. Makes you a little upset that you weren’t experiencing each other for the first time. Would it have been more clumsy? More—

Your train of thought is cut short from Sukuna suddenly patting his hand down to cup your sex through your underwear, middle and ring finger pressing onto your hole through the fabric. Your hands shoot up to grab his forearm, trembling with shock.

“Hey-!” His fingers are so cold!

“Are you- Fuck, no one made you cum before?” His expression is worrying you, yet turning you on at the same time. He looks angry, paired with the sudden roughness he’s handling your cunt with, thumb rubbing furiously over your clothed clit. You nod with a soft breathy gasp, wishing he would slow down a little, but the pleasure is building up so fast.

“I’m gonna be the first to make you cum. I’m gonna be the first. Oh fuck.” Sukuna sounds like he’s going to cum just from thinking about it. His palm rubs faster over your underwear, thumb swerving left and right over your clit. All you can do is nod and mewl, letting the cold pleasure build until it tenses you up like a jolt.

“Why didn’t you tell me I’m your first? Am I your first boyfriend too? Fuck, the kiss that day was your first too?” Sukuna asks right into your face, mocking in the way he searches for your eyes despite how hazy and zoned out you look in your high. His hand doesn’t stop, rubbing you off, smearing the wetness on your underwear on your thigh as his hand works you stupid.

You remember that day a few weeks back where Sukuna had kissed you while he was fixing his car. Squatting, you were surprised he slid out from the bottom of his car, pulling off his glove to grab your neck, pulling you down into a kiss.

At the time, you didn’t think that’s how your first kiss would go. Messy and quick in his garage while he was lying on a creeper, fixing parts of his rundown Toyota. Then you realized, he didn’t know that was your first kiss. He had the urge to kiss you after you listened intently to him talking about the inside outs of his car. Perhaps he felt overwhelmed with apprieciation and affection that he had to kiss you.

“I-it’s not like you asked!” Whining, you slap at his arm to stop him from pushing you into overstimulation.

“Yeah, but I assumed you at least tried something adventurous in the past.” He keeps rubbing until you cry out again for him, and his dick jumps and twitches in his pants. His boxers are no doubt ruined, but he doesn’t care about that right now.

“Sukuna- wait I’m goin’ to-” Your second orgasm hurls you off the bed, scratching at his forearm and crying out all pathetic. He holds his hand down on your womb so you don’t run too far off.

“My poor, sweet, girl. No one’s ever made you cum all your life…” Sukuna murmurs to no one, staring at your writhing form on your bed, chest heaving and jaw agape for oxygen.

The truth is, he’s never had a girlfriend before either. Casual flings here and there, then he turned 26. Then you came barging into his life, quite literally, splashing a whole bowl of hot miso soup all over him at the canteen on campus.

Mortified, you profusely apologized while trying to yank off his soaked jersey. He fought against your grip, knowing he had a rugby match in an hour. He’s strong, you’re stubborn, then it rips.

He ran all the way back to his dorm cussing you out under his breath and played in his smaller, tighter old jersey that was cutting into his armpits.

“That was too much!” You shove at his arm, pouting slightly even when he kisses your cheek in apology. Sukuna admits he’s a little too jolly about the prospect of making his first girlfriend feel good. It’s special to him, special to you. He spanks your clothed clit and watch you squirm a bit more for his satisfaction.

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I need to make you reaaallly wet anyways. Before we do anything.” He smirks.

“How wet is reeaaaalllly wet?”

“I mean, about a good 3 orgasms? For a virgin?” He entertains your need for some kind of statistic, leaning his head down again at your chest to mouth at your breast.

Clutching onto the thin stands of his pink hair, your thighs rub together when Sukuna once again reaches down your mound. Hooking his fingers into your unsexy cotton panties that he finds endearing for some reason, you’re fully bared to him. Pulling you by your ankles, he dangles your legs on the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t shave…” It’s pretty silly of you to not have prepared before you invited him in, but it’s happening right now and it’s too late to grab a razor to try.

“Have you ever shaved before?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“No, never.” You shake your head meekly.

“Well, if your pubic hair doesn’t hinder you, you don’t need to shave it then.” He simply says, leaning in to brush his nose against the coarse hairs on your mound. You try to pull his head up, flustered, but he doesn’t budge, resting his mouth on your cunt and nose idly on your pubic hair.

“W-why are you just resting on my…” It’s ridiculous that Sukuna is treating your pelvic area like a pillow, resting his lips there. He wryly smirks and lock eyes with you, sensing your growing impatience.

“Want me to do something?” His lips move and speak against your clit, and you stifle a sweet whine. His breath is hot, and the sudden memory of his pierced tongue on your breast was making you grow wetter. His piercing would feel so good against your clit.

“Do something please…” You plea with furrowed brows.

“I’m awful without instructions. What do you want?” He coos with a smile.

“Put your…um, put your mouth on my down there…” You beg harder.

“Sweetheart you’re 24.” Unamused, he speaks again, ignoring how his warm breath was making your poor clit twitch.

“Okay! Okay! Please lick my pussy!” You squeal into your palms, face burning behind your hands. It’s so embarrassing to say it out loud.

Sukuna wastes no time and pushes his tongue against your clit. The hot pleasure mixed in with the flickering cold from his piercing jolts you all in the right spot. Your thighs clamp down on his ears instantly, a loud mewl escaping your throat. He swipes his tongue side to side and you jolt again.

“‘M gonna push a finger in.” His eyes meet your clouded ones, pushing in his middle finger slowly into your cunt. It hurts, so you fight back a little as Sukuna holds an arm over your pelvis to keep you down.

“Shh shh. I know it hurts, it’s gonna feel good in a moment. Wait.” Hollowing his cheeks, he sucks on your throbbing clit hard, easing out the painful pressure of his finger with the pleasure. He keeps sucking on your little nub while his finger pushes deeper in, his own hips rutting against the edge of the bed, desperate to find a relief that comes in the form of a warm, wet cavern.

“A-ahh…It feels weird…your finger is really thick…” You softly moan, scratching his scalp.

“Unfortunately I have to push in at least two fingers to prep you bit more.” The tone of his voice is low and raspy, like he’s also on the edge. Feeling bad, you yank his head away from you more. Sukuna looks confused, mouth coated in your slimey wetness. It makes you blush.

“W-why don’t you touch yourself while helping me?”

“I wanna make you cum first.” He earnestly speaks, licking his lips. It’s insane how hot he looks while looking so unkempt, but a part of you is aware that it’s a masculine appeal that he possess. Not too domineering, not too subserviant, just enough to be a tease. It’s so nice to have a boyfriend that likes you. It’s so nice to have a boyfriend. It’s so nice to have Sukuna.

“I-I want you to touch yourself too!” Not sure where you get the sudden courage from, but you dish out an order to the man between your legs, and he chuckles with a cocky raise of his brow.

“Sure. Anything you say goes.”

Putting his mouth back on you, Sukuna’s eyes flutter close, freehand shoving into his pants and down into his boxers, pulling his cock out to stroke it. Your whines grow louder as he continues to suck and lap at your clit, seemingly even faster and sloppier this time due to him fucking his own fist. Growing hazy and fucked out himself, Sukuna is practically making out with your pussy while trying to get himself to cum.

“O-oh my god Suk-Sukuna I’m-” You cum violently for the third time, legs locking his neck and rubbing yourself all over his face. He takes it with no complaint, grunting and groaning into your cunt, letting his nose bridge bump your clit at every roll.

“F-fuck-” The schlick sound of him stroking himself gets louder, and suddenly he stands up, staring straight into your eyes and busts his load all over your chest.

“Eeeee! Your kids!” You blurt out with a giggle, touching the translucent semen on your chest, spreading the sticky substance between your fingers.

“That’s surely the first time I’ve heard someone react that way to semen.” Sukuna pants with a lazy smile, squeezing his dick once more, a few more dribbles oozing out. He’s still semi-erect after cumming.

“I mean it’s technically sperm. Like…millions of em.”

“Okay miss biologist, come here.” Grabbing a towel from your nightstand, he gently wipes your chest, then leaning down to kiss you chest to chest.

You like kissing. Or maybe just kissing Sukuna. His tongue is really active compared to yours, shoving and trying to fuck your throat deeper every gasp. You’ve gotten used to the way he likes to nip your bottom lip, before sticking his tongue out so you suck on his tongue like a good girl. It’s odd how nice it is to suck on his tongue, you dare say you prefer doing this than sucking his thumb. But maybe you only feel this way because Sukuna likes to hold onto you jaw everytime you kiss.

His hand is big, and warm, and, and, and…eughh. His touch is as equally comforting as it’s sensual. When he held your jaw trying to inspect the little pimples on your skin during your breakouts, he’d coo that you’re a pitiful girl and he’d help you apply cream. Is it bad to admit you like being pampered and taken cared of by a big mean man of little words? With everyone else, he’s closed off like a lonewolf, but behind closed doors, he cradles you in his embrace and says you’re his sweet girl.

You’re 24. Not much of a girl anymore, and you’re not sure you’re as sweet as he thinks of you to be. Then he casually pushes his fingers into your wet cunt again and suddenly you think you must look sweet and willing to him.

His finger goes in easily this time, curling it against a gummy spot inside you and you gasp against his lips. He drops his head down to kiss and plant a hickey on your neck, attempting to distract you from the pain of the intrusion from his second finger.

“I don-I don’t think it’ll- it’s really really tight…” Your nails dig into his shoulder, muffling your voice against his pink unruly hair. The short spikes prick at your nose and tickles you a little.

“Yeah. You’re really tight, you have to relax. Think about something that relaxes you.” He mutters against your skin, one hand kneading your breast, the other still trying to push his fingers in.

“Um um um, lofi music! Ambient lighting!” You squeal, eyes squeezed shut.

“Uh-huh.” He hums.

“Eating tiramisu!”

“Right…”

“ Playing Tomodachi Life!”

“Uh, sweetheart you don’t have to say it out loud.” He laughs against your cheek and now you feel ridiculous and childish for ruining the mood. Just when you’re about to chide him for poking fun at you, he curls his fingers. You gasp. His fingers went in while you were blabbing about your nonsense.

Looking up at him like an abandoned cat in the rain, Sukuna smiles with a sickly sweet look on his face, then he curls his fingers once more, you moan uncontrollably into his chest.

“See? We’re getting somewhere. You’ve never had anything in there, right?” He mocks you with a patronizing tone, continuing to pump and curl his fingers into this particular spot inside you. It feels so much different than just rubbing on your clit. The feeling is more pointed, sharper inside you, forcing out lewd moans out your throat. Now you think you’re reduced to a common whore when you’re drooling on his tattooed chest.

Knees buckling, Sukuna is quick to wrap his arm around you to support you, laying you back down on the pillows, his fingers scissoring inside you.

“I-I legit feel like I-Imma explode.”

“You’re slurring your words.”

“S-sthop.”

“It’s a good thing.”

He says nothing afterwards and targets all his attention on your cunt, using his fingers to mess up all your insides. He curls and your head is thrown back. He scissors and your toes are tightly curled. Had you known fingering was this pleasurable, you would have tried it yourself sooner.

Picking up the pace, Sukuna’s fingerfucks you until you’re hurled over the edge again, you’ve lost count on how many times you’ve cum tonight. The scoreboard is Sukuna at 1 and you at 4, you think. How he’s not already asking you to take his cock in your mouth is astonishing to you. So patient.

“T-that was so good…”

“Bet it was.”

“I never tried doing it myself.”

“Well, I’m not sure if your fingers could reach as deep as mine did.” He pulls out from your wet heat and you watch in a mix of horror and arousal as he sucks on his digits with the taste of you. He did just eat you out earlier, but for some reason it feels way more nastier with his fingers.

Panting harshly, you slowly come down from your high, lips dry and throat itchy. He brushes away the sweaty hair stuck on your forehead and it reminds you of that time he held up your hair when you had thrown up from food poisoning. The way he looks at you is the same.

Your hands hold up towards him, opening and closing your palm like a child begging for affection. Sukuna smiles and joins you downward into another kiss, hugging you, running his hands across your back. You return his gesture, as simple and primitive as it can be for two human beings to rub and caress each other’s backs in a hug. As open-hearted and unadvanced as it comes to be, sex is the same.

Something hard and phallic presses against your thigh, Sukuna looks at you with a knowing smile that’s a mix of anticipation and bashfulness. You never thought he could ever be someone who felt bashful about anything at all, but perhaps he’s embarrased by the eagerness of his manhood during your tender moment.

“You can put it in.” You offer, nodding with alacrity.

“Don’t say it like that,” He scratches his scalp, “You’re gonna work me up more.”

“Oh, sorry.” You giggle.

Bracing himself up on his elbows once again, Sukuna looks down at his dick and grabs it, trying to line himself properly.

“You’re on birth control, right? Or do you prefer a condom?”

You shyly look away, before answering him sheepishly.

“I’m- I’m on IUD.”

“What?” Sukuna stills with surprise and looks at you with wide eyes.

“Um,” You sniffle, “I got it when we started dating…”

The smile on Sukuna’s face twists into stupidly arrogant expression, cocking his head to one side.

“You wanted to fuck me raw that bad huh?”

“Stop!”

“Ah, didn’t know my sweet sweet sweet girl was this perverted and dirty.”

“Enough!” You slap his face playfully and he chuckles while rubbing his cheek. He complies and goes back to lining himself up, unaware his precum is dribbling all over your mound.

It’s true, you did get an IUD after discussing with your friends about wanting to have sex with Sukuna. Initially, you thought going on birth control and condoms was good enough, but then your best friend had recommended you an IUD. You were sure Sukuna was clean and he would never put you in danger, so you went ahead and got it at the clinic. The doctor even teased you about “having fun” after it’s planted into your arm.

“I just realized this is my first time seeing a real dick.” You whisper.

“Uh-huh. What do you think?” He whispers back, trying to focus.

“U-uh, it looks kind of t-thick. I’m not sure about the size. Also you tattooed your dick?” You stutter a little when the tip catches onto the hood of your clit, he smiles to himself at his accidental tease.

“Yeah I did when I was 20,” He scoffs in amusement like he admits it’s a silly thing to do, “Not sure about the size?”

“I mean I can’t tell if it’s big or… not big.” You certainly didn’t want to say ‘small’ and insult him, but Sukuna looks up at you as if you have.

“Hm, well, the penis size sometimes does not matter. Time to time it’s more of the technique.” He explains flatly.

“Why does it sound so complicated?”

“Even if a guy had a super big dick, for instance, 10 inch or so, he might not be able to have sex with his partner because it’s simply uncomfortable. Plus, a woman’s cervix varies in- Fuck, I’ll explain later, okay?” Sukuna abandons his educational speech midway out of frustration and you giggle, watching him line himself up. Then, he pushes in.

“S-suku…na.” You whine, feeling something foreign and squishy going inside you. His dick is kind of warm, or maybe you’re burning up inside and you’re burning him up too, because Sukuna looks as if he’s in pain and sweating.

“Y-you feel so fucking good, shit,” He pants, catching his own breath for a moment, “I don’t want to push it in too fast, so don’t squeeze me so hard.”

“I’m not squeezing you!” You let go of his shoulders.

“Not your hands, your pussy you stupid girl!” He grits.

“O-oh! Okay! R-relaxing!” You try to take deep breaths to relax, feeling an inch push further more inside you.

He shifts and adjusts himself so he’s kneeling on the bed, grabbing onto your hip to pull you against him instead of pushing himself in. He groans at the halfway point, biting his bottom lip so he doesn’t blow his load the second he fully sheathes in.

If he were to calculate, Sukuna’s been celibate for almost 2 years. Sex wasn’t really on his mind often since he was always busy with rugby and his engineering assignments, so he didn’t bother to have flings the same way he had during the first year of college. He wouldn’t say he had a low libido, but rugby definitely works him up a sweat. Then he gets super horny and jerks himself off afterwards.

A spilled miso soup and you, came tumbling into his life a year ago like a car crash, then he realizes he might be much more perverted than he had previously thought himself to be. Sukuna hates clumsy people, but he oddly found himself acquiring a mysterious source of patience to teach you how to ice skate. The glimmer in your eyes and the sheer awe you had when you held onto his arm and slid across the ice made him uncharacteristically aware of the physical contact.

Then you proceeded let go and twirl yourself around yelling “Sukuna Sukuna look what I can do!”, doing a 360 spin and posing, before stumbling on the ice like a klutz. He rubs his face to suppress the betraying happiness showing on his face, but then a glimpse of your bare nape makes him do a double take and swallow like a victorian man with a finie maiden’s ankle.

“Fuck, it’s in.” Sukuna groans with long sigh, feeling his thighs shake with adrenaline and the urge to start thrusting into you. Watching you gasping softly with your hands fisting the pillow behind you definitely doesn’t help.

“I feel so full.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No really, I-I feel so stuffed. It feels like your dick is all the way in my ribs.”

“Fuck,” Sukuna rubs his face with a shaky exhale, “Don’t say anything more unless you’re ready for me to move.”

“But I can’t,” You softly cry, “Is your dick really big because it feels like a coca cola can is nesting inside my womb.”

“What? You are so- I don’t even- Jesus,” Sukuna’s jaw clenches before he decides he has enough and it’s him to blame for dating you, “I’m going to move now.”

Sukuna slowly pulls out with an agonizing pace, before pushing back in all the way. The pressure, the tightness of it makes him groan loudly with an open jaw, then he makes the mistake to look up at your reaction and you’re covering your mouth with quick pants, looking all helpless and alarmed. Fueled by your reaction, he does it one more time, you cry out and muffle your noises again.

With a quick decisive motion, Sukuna yanks your hands away from your mouth and intertwines it with his fingers. Droplets of sweat start to form on his forehead starts to form as he starts to pick up the pace and rut into you faster. All you can do is drool and mewl and push at his abs to ground yourself, but then he presses your hands down at your stomach and you cry out at the pressure.

“A-as I was s-saying,” he pants, talking loudly over the slapping sounds of his hips against your ass, “A- a woman’s cervix varies from woman to woman. Some, fuck, some women have deeper cervix, some have shallow ones.” The tip of his cock bumps right into a sweet spot inside you, and Sukuna grins at the slick that oozes out of you more.

“In your c-case, your cervix is, shallow.” Sukuna angles himself towards that spot again and thrusts himself harder, pressing down on your stomach. You squirt a little and he laughs like a maniac.

“S-sukuna-” The tears in your eyes are starting to build from the pleasure, the friction of his thrusts with the lewd bounce of your breast is so humiliatingly pleasureable, you feel yourself about to cum again. Sukuna’s pace doesn’t falter at all, and he’s attacking that squishy spot inside you with scary good precision.

“You’re sensitive with a shallow c-cervix, it’s pretty fucking easy for you to feel good even with a smaller dick.” Noticing that you’re about to cum, Sukuna cruelly slows his pace down on purpose just to see you cry from being on the edge. Your feet kicks at him, so he lets go of your hands and places your ankles up on his shoulder.

“I-I was so close!” Your pitiful complain makes him smile, grabbing onto your thighs and leaning down more so he’s nose to nose with you. Your thigh muscles burn at the stretch, Sukuna’s grip and weight too heavy on your weaker body. He thrusts hard into you once, and savours the way you flinch and cry.

“Does it feel good?” His rhetorical question pisses you off.

“Yes! I want to cum please.” You plea harder, hoping he’ll cave in, but he slows down his pace even more. How does he have so much self control, you don’t know.

“Sorry, since it’s your first, I wanna watch you like this for a bit,” Sukuna’s hand slowly travels down your belly, and you’re feeling an arousing dread build up, “I wanna see you cum while I have you folded like this.”

With a sly smile, his thumb rests on your clit, and he starts to swipe at it vigorously. Your orgasm hits you fast and violent, back bowing and clawing at Sukuna’s nape to hold onto the last string of consciousness you have. His thumb doesn’t falter in roughly rubbing you off, prolonging your pleasure as long as he can to admire your face turning left and right, jaw slacking with drool and with shut eyes.

Sukuna thinks his head must have been fogged up with sexually depraved thoughts, because watching you so helpless and small under him activates some kind of primitive instinct in him to constantly keep you in that state of high. No warning whatsoever, he pushes your knees to your chest and plants one feet on your bed. You’re about to scream at the stretch, but he suddenly fucks into you way harder and your shrieks are silenced into moans.

You’re barely even coherent for the next 10 minutes. Sukuna is fucking into you so roughly that your head is about to bump into your headboard. He quickly places a pillow between and kisses you. The kiss is sloppier than before, gasping and grunting every few seconds with a sultry whisper of your name. You’d think Sukuna is enjoying watching your ruin.

“I’m gonna change positions-” Somehow, he uses the last ounce of his sanity to tell you, gazing at your hazy face nodding weakly.

Pulling out and flipping you over like some fish, you feel overwhelmed when Sukuna slides himself back into your cunt and press your back down with his chest. He spanks your rear once and you cry. The position feels so much deeper than the previous, your high-pitched whines entirely muffled by your pillow and Sukuna’s grunting noises in your ear.

You’re pushed to overstimulation when he snakes his hand under you and plays with your clit again while fucking you, a loud moan pollutes your ear and a hot liquid fills you up inside.

“You moan so sweetly, holy shit,” He mutters into your ear, listening to your wailing cries of pleasure. “Sounds like you’re crying.”

“Don’t be mean!” You smack him without looking up from the pillow, embarrassed by your own noises. Sukuna snorts before grabbing you up by your throat, turning your head to the side so he could kiss you.

Gently moving you, he grabs a towel from your nightstand and pulls out, staring at his cum drooping out of your pussy before wiping them away with contentment. He cheekily push back some of the cum back inside you before you kick at him again.

“I think I’m gonna pass out.” You mumble as he pulls you to cuddle, lying down beside you and immediately sniffing your hair like some dog. He squeezes your boob, you nudge your elbow at him.

“Don’t pass out yet. Go pee, else you’ll get a UTI.” Sukuna pushes your back up encouragingly, ushering you to the bathroom. He leaves an empty space in his arms to prepare for your return.

Once you return with new panties and a loose tee, he scoops you right back into his arms with a few smooches to your shoulder. He always kiss that same spot. The last time you questioned him about this, he simply said that if he does it often enough, you’ll remember the shape of his lips everywhere on your body. You told him he was being stupid and it didn’t make sense, but then you thought really hard about it because Sukuna doesn’t usually do meaningless and unnecessary things. He’s going cuckoo in the head with affection whenever he’s with you.

“That was really hot.” You admit shyly to him.

“Bet it was. Are you okay though?” He gently rubs your stomach.

“Yah,” You nod, “Don’t think I can cum for the whole week. I came so much.”

“Shame. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go again.”

“I thought men needed a refractory period before they’re hard again.” You turn to his side.

“It’s true. I’m just exceptionally horny.” He pinches your nose.

“Um…can I try sucking you off?”

His eye twitches, dick jumping at your thigh.

While you’re in lame pajamas and wet hair and toothbrush in your mouth like an awfully cliche wattpad story!

I am NOT getting sold to One Direction!

Your phone keeps pinging with text messages, and it’s all you can muster with your cowardice to check them.

cursedguy07 : that came out wrong cursedguy07 : i’m not confronting you by any means  cursedguy07 : i’m just excited to see you  cursedguy07 : i can go if you really don’t want to see me

Holding onto your toothbrush like a klutz, you hastily text Nobara about it ASAP, ignoring his message. Time is quite literally a ticking time bomb right now and it’s outside your door less than a feet away.

You : WTF GIRL HES FUCKING HERE AT MY DOOR  Nobara : who?  You : SUKUNA  Nobara : ok? we already established that he found out who you are Nobara : it was inevitable like Nobara : literally just open the door damn  You : no im scared im gonna ask him to go

Expecting moral support from Nobara in your dire situation, you presume she might come over and help distract Sukuna away so you can get ready in a better outfit and face him.

But her next text makes you freeze.

Nobara : girl can i be honest?  You : yes..?  Nobara : i love you but you’re legit a fucking coward sometimes  You : what  Nobara : r u actually gonna let ur insecurities rule over your life Nobara : like this fucking dude alr knows who u r and CAME OVER to see u Nobara : and u want to turn him away because what? Nobara : u’re underdressed? ugly? out of his league? Nobara : u love to fucking self sabotage and ur neurotic AF

A message pings above Nobara’s chat.

cursedguy07 : im just gonna go back to my dorm for now

Nobara : ur so insecure to the point where its pathological and holding you back from many open doors and opportunities simply because you have a parasitic rot inside you that’s planted by YOU

Oh.

cursedguy07 : didn’t mean to scare u

Nobara : u’re turning away a guy that alr likes u just to prove yourself and everyone who ever doubted you right

Your chest feels tight. Making your best friend angry was way more suffocating than getting hounded by the door.

You : have u ever doubted me?  Nobara : if you don’t open that goddamn door for him, then it might be the first time i ever doubted you.

Riding on Nobara’s trust and your romantic endeavours on the line, you gurgle your mouth clean and burst out your dorm door, catching Sukuna just in time as he walks down the corridor with his duffel bag over his shoulder. The ‘07’ on the back of his jersey seems to mock you.

“Su-SUKUNA!” You call out with all your might.

He turns around in alarm, watching you with wide eyes filled with confusion.

“Uh, yes?” He blinks a few times, unsure what to say. His chest is also heaving in time with yours, likely also nervous about meeting face to face for the first time ever, but in a rather ridiculous situation.

Waving your hand to gesture at him to come closer, you stand there like a malfunctioning scarecrow, shifting your foot to lean your weight on every 2 seconds out of nerves. Once he gets closer, you truly see him as him. Not the tenacious man on the rugby field, not the reserved guy every morning at the lift, and certainly not the teasing boy you text online.

Infront of you is Sukuna, the real thing in his flesh. Lips pursed with subtle tension, pierced brow twitching with almost unnoticable anxiety, and a faded flush on his cheeks. The sweat from his match is still there, and when it glides all the way down his throat, his adam apple swallows.

He’s just a guy. You’re just a girl.

“Hi. Hey.” You try not to imagine yourself as Eugene from that one scene in Tangled where he smiles all crooked and suave to seduce Rapunzel.

“Hi.” Sukuna’s voice comes out gentler than you’d expected, you both are now two scarecrows. He adjusts his duffel bag and you sniffle. You both are now two malfunctioning scarecrows.

“Soo…” Your hands comes up to your hips, “I guess this is…me. Yeah. Hello.” You tell him your name in a ‘poised’ greeting, smiling hard with all 32 teeth of yours in hope to exude 100% of friendliness of a flight attendant. I’m silly. He drags his eyes on you from head to toe. I’m silly.

To your utter surprise, Sukuna looks away with a soft chuckle, eyes crinkling with embarassment himself, before scratching the tattoo on his nose bridge for a second.

“You uh, got some—” Awkwardly, he points at your face, nodding at the corner of your lips, “Cream? Paste? Something foamy—”

“Oh! Shit, it was toothpaste. I’m stupid sorry.” You wipe, blushing.

“I didn’t say you’re stupid.” His hands raise in a placating gesture.

“No- yeah I know, I mean—” You cover your mouth, closing your eyes, before you blurt out, “Do you wanna come in my dorm?”

Sukuna’s brows raises high up till his forehead creases three. He looks to where your dorm is at.

“Sure, I gotta shower first,” His hands gesture down his fully body, sweatsoaked with a muddy jersey, “I kinda smell.”

Your mouth forms a dramatic ‘O’ shape.

“Oh you can shower at my dorm! I have like shampoo, and I got like towels too! Whole package!”

Sukuna finally grins at your eager offer, the previous nervousness in him fading. He cocks his head to the side with mischief.

“Woah, sweetheart. You’re inviting me to shower together? Moving bit fast aren’t we?”

Hearing him call you that term of endearment verbally feels terrifying, in the best way ever. Before you could even gather yourself to respond in a ladylike manner without getting tongue-tied, he’s already pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the lift, muttering that he’ll return after. You only realize that your offer was useless anyways, since you didn’t have any clothes that would fit him.

Sprinting back to your room, you slam your door shut and start ‘Operation : Clean My Fucking Room’ before your romantic interest gets turned off by the amount of books and video game covers scattered like tomato seeds on fertile soil under your bed. Mouthing ‘oh my god’ every second as you shove all your things into one corner and pretending that you’ve always been Ms Clean Girl. Turn away all your plushies to face the wall so they don’t start a bonfire and make a joke out of you later when you are sure to become a bumbling mess infront of Sukuna again.

Patting down your bed, you quickly text Nobara again to update her.

You : I MET HIM!!!  Nobara : my god girl good for you  You : thank u for believing in me…i love u…besto friendo… Nobara : bye u sound like Todo Nobara : for a second i was worried u’d actually bail on him Nobara : so what u gonna do now? Nobara : wear protection girl You : STOP IT WE NOT GNA DO THAT SO FAST Nobara : im just sayin

Face red with the idea that Sukuna being alone in your dorm room with you, you start to regret not owning any pieces of sexy lace lingerie. Damn it, if you really do ‘the do’ with him, are you really going to still be in your tame sports bra? But then again he must know you’re not experienced with the birds and bees, so you get a pass, right? Or will he find your lack of effort unappetizing? Eugh…

You : m scared im gna say smtg dumb Nobara : im pretty sure the guy has the hots for u bc of that atp Nobara : like ur his fetish and this is ur niche You : i hv no idea what ur talking abt… Nobara : hes an athletic guy at the prime age of his sexuality and u’re a virgin Nobara : just wear protection pls You : not that fast omg stop

Ah! I’ll make him tea!

Running to your small kitchen counter, you get out some tea leaves from the cupboard, throw it into a teapot and let it simmer in hot water. The sizzling sound soothes the tension in you.

“Can I come in?”

The muffled sound of Sukuna’s voice comes from beyond the door, and you rush to open it like a butler on the clock. Jesus, you must look eager.

He emerges from your door. As if a cloth hanger, the loose white tee on him hangs perfectly, tight at the shoulders and straight down his torso. Not too tight, not too loose. It seems he values comfort more than showing off his guns. Not that you’re looking at his biceps. You’re not that shallow. Um. He’s also just wearing his rugby shorts. You point at your bed and he sits down slowly like a first time customer at a bar.

He’s really large in scale, you think. He’s like Godzilla invading into your safe haven. You shake your head away at the funny thought.

Handing him the cup of tea, he gracefully accepts it and grabs the cup with one hand. You warn him about the heat, but it seems that he doesn’t feel it at all. Sukuna takes a sip while you plop down next to him on the edge of your bed, looking down at your feet, and then his, which are almost twice the size of your foot, his complexion is slightly tanner as well. It’s a mystery that he doesn’t have any ingrown toenails considering the sports he plays.

“You have neat toenails.” Your state, pointing at his feet.

“You think?” Sukuna looks down at his own feet, wiggling his toes a bit to make you giggle, then he playfully places his foot ontop of yours. You stack yours on his. Then he does it again. Then you do it too. Then you’re both playing footsie in the goofiest manner possible until he puts away his cup of tea on your nightstand to win your immature game. Eventually he grows unaware of his strength and step harder, making you squeak like a mouse and lose your balance, grabbing onto his side. You reflextively apologize but Sukuna grabs onto your arms tighter.

“Nah it’s ok. Come, come here.” He pulls you in closer to his side, then you find yourself lightheaded with the aroma of his flowery shampoo and the residue smell of shaving cream. Perhaps he shaved his jaw while he was showering earlier. Perhaps he also cleaned himself up nicely to look composed to hide the twinge of boyish nervousness in him. Thigh to thigh, his hand lands on your waist. It’s warm…

“Is this your first time in a girl’s room?” You ask shyly, trying to distract yourself from staring at the thigh tattoo peeking out of his shorts.

“Uh, no.”

His answer slightly sinks your enthusiasm, your chest swelling with something indescribable.

“Second time?”

“Uhhhh…no.”

“Oh ok.” Sticky hands rubbing together in an attempt at covering up your disappointment that you’re both not experiencing the same kind of ludicrous ‘first time adolescent romance’ at 24 years old, you shut up. Looking out the window at the city, you wish Nobara would break into the glass and tell you what to do or say in Sukuna’s presence. Words are so much harder than just typing.

“Jealous?”

“Kind of…”

A beat of silence.

“Do you think I’m a promiscuous man-whore now?”

“What?! I didn’t even say that! I was just curious!” Quick to defend yourself, you look upwards at Sukuna, only to find him smiling with eyes full of mirth.

“I’m joking,” He pokes his tongue in his inner cheek before rubbing his hand up and down your waist in a rhythmic pattern, “Am I the first guy in your room?”

“Yes…If you put it that way it sounds so stupid…”

“It’s not stupid, you need to stop using that word to describe yourself.” He chides. “I’m glad only I claimed your space.”

“Wow, so territorial.”

“Yeah I’m a primitive animal. Rawr.” He dryly speaks in amusement, watching your form shake with your laughter.

“I just,” Your fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt, “I thought we were like, nervous together. Like it’s not just me freaking out about you know, being with each other? For the first time? ‘Cursed guy o seven’?’”

“Well, ‘Sleepy girl o four’,” He laughs, “It’s not my first time holding a girl, yes, but definitely my first time being serious about someone. Nerves.”

Sukuna lowers his head down after that, starting to sniff your hair, then inhaling the scent of your skin at your neck despite you shrinking slightly away. You wonder if you smell sexy and arousing, but you know it’s just the residue smell of laundry detergent. Sometimes your own hyper-awareness makes you internally laugh. You once tried to convince Novara that everyone had their own ‘sitcom audience laugh.mp3’ in their own heads, but she said only you possess this superpower.

“Do you wanna go on a date with me-”

“Yes.”

The speed of your reply renders both of you frozen and speechless.

“-next Sunday?” Sukuna’s smile slowly forms with a teasing quirk of his brow, watching the embarrassment register on your face until you have to look away.

“Woah. No playing hard to get at all.”

“Shaddap.”

“Not even a pause.”

“Stop.”

“You’re braver online.”

“Ok well you too.”

“You’re right,” He blows some air on your nape, “I am holding back right now.” He whispers into your ear, and you assume its his lips touching the shell of it because you don’t have the balls to turn your head. Well you really don’t have balls, anyways.

Sukuna pulls away with a pat on the top of your hair, vanishing your anxieties. He pulls you up your bed and twirls you once, before pulling right into his chest for a hug, with a small “oof” from you.

His hands press on your shoulder blades and your shoulder, while you hesitantly hug him back, almost encircling the entire circumference of his waist. It feels like hugging a tree trunk. Your hands rub his lower back too, but you feel like his backscratcher if you’re being honest. Koala backscratcher. You giggle against his pecs.

“Ok, it’s late. I have to go before my head starts to jumble into a mess and I think about doing lewd things to you.” He rubs your head again.

“Whot?” Darting your eyes up sheepishly, your nose and your lips are still pressed against his chest. From the low angle you’re peering at, Sukuna looks troubled with dilemma.

“Don’t act like you weren’t quite literally seducing me this entire time.”

What?

You’re dressed in boring pajamas, long pants, plain long sleeve tee. Didn’t he say it’s not his first time holding a girl? Is Ryomen Sukuna reacting to the skin of your nape as if a victorian man seeing a bare ankle?

His heartbeat is kind of erratic too.

“You act as if im wearing a bikini…”

“It’s not about the clothes.”

Oh.

This was probably what Nobara was referring to. That you’re a niche fetish and Sukuna is the sole enjoyer. You could wear a trash bag and he’d think you’re propositioning him to do something naughty. If you one day turned into a USB cord, he might be the only buyer in the market. Something something when there’s demand there’s a market. Will you still like me if I was a worm? Sukuna might buy a terrarium and feed you maple leaves everyday for your steady growth.

“Are you getting horny over my lame outfit?” You joke, but the banter never continues, instead he frowns. You’re afraid you said something wrong that ruined the mood.

“Stop saying deprecating things about yourself.” His brow furrow tighter. “I don’t like the way you talk about the person I like.”

Oh…

He likes me…

You blush like a babbling school girl and he kindly spares you.

“Got that in your head?” He gruffly commands more of a statement than a question.

You nod, and Sukuna runs his thick fingers through your hair, helping you detangle when it gets stuck at the ends. He’s quite gentle, or maybe you’re romanticizing him too much and finding every little thing he does charming and especially caring.

“Hm.” He mumbles.

“Hm.” You agree.

Understanding the cue, both of you let go of each other with a wistful expression. Sukuna rubs your head one last time before smiling at you and leaving out your dorm.

The silhoulette of him walking away makes you feel distant, not just in a physical way.

“Su-Sukuna!”

He turns his head once to look back at you by your door.

“See you!” You wave with the full swing of your arm.

He grins a little cheeky before he responds.

“S-see ya, sweetheart.”

He goes into the lift.

Wait. Did he just mock me? Asshole.

— —

He woke up in the morning and got out of bed with a boosted spring in his step.

As Gojo would say, Sukuna looked “geeked as hell” when he came to practice. Pat every rookie on the back, encouraging thumbs up to a junior when he messed up his pass, and didn’t get mad when someone’s elbow cracked right into his nose. Sukuna looked crazy happy to have a nosebleed. Gojo gossiped to the others that he might have his food laced with steroids before this.

“Bruh, are you good?” Gojo pokes Sukuna cautiously in the shoulder while he eats, it’s the same as interrupting a bear during his feast.

Sukuna doesn’t get mad, however. Instead, he smiles with his cheeks full of rice, nodding his head like some automatic machine. Gojo recoils in disgusted shock. Sukuna being giddy? Talk about the element of surprise.

“Water probably clogged up his brain, fuck knows.” Toji’s finger swirls at his temple as a gesture to call Sukuna a crazed individual, which is then rewarded with two painted middle fingers from Sukuna.

“I got a hot date next Sunday, loser.” Sukuna emphasizes the ‘hot’ with his lips, nonchalant about the way Gojo and Toji both cringe at him talking with his mouthful. He manuveurs and turns his middle fingers towards Gojo too. Double combo. Gojo flips him off in return, but since he doesn’t have cool black painted nails, Sukuna deems it an ineffective rebuttal. Brutality.

“So you finally bagged that sleepy girl three or whatever.”

“Ahem. We go by our real names now. ‘Cuz we real together and all.” Sukuna corrects Toji with a high and mighty tone, shading Toji about his slow progression with his own relationship.

“Man fuck you.” Another show of middle fingers.

“I’d gladly fuck a handsome dude like myself, thank you.” Sukuna mock bows with a hand at his chest with a funny accent, and everyone at the table gags in response.

“I don’t like it when you’re happy.” Toji grumbles.

Sukuna’s hand raises up to perform threaterics, painting an obscene picture of him with his slow, romantic words.

“I’d do myself raw, with no depressing barrier of a condom between our pulsing bodies. Flesh against flesh. Make sweet, exhilarating love—”

The entire table boos and groans.

“As Man’yoshu would say, ‘Thick and fast stream my thoughts of you. Like the layers Of endlessly falling snow upon the cedars. Come to me at night, my man!’”

“Eugh! Get this fucker out my face, yuck!”

The men scattered away like flies after lunch, desperate to get away from a suddenly optimistic Sukuna. He has a habit of quoting poems and cite papers that he has read in the past for his weird sense of humour. Sukuna chuckles to himself, throwing away his apple juice carton and heads back to his dorm.

Heading up to his dorm feels different now. An impulsive thought always in the back of his mind to press “2” on the lift buttons and barge into your dorm to see you. But he’s busy. You’re busy. The knowledge that you’re so close yet so far gets him antsy. Proximity is torture just as much as convenience.

Getting cozy after showering, he crashes himself on his bed, clipboard in hand.

Ryo : hey You : hai! You : how was practice i just woek up Ryo : i can tell You : rude Ryo : is there anywhere u wna go for our date? Ryo : or i plan it like a surprise Ryo : also do u wna game tonight👍

Sukuna whistles to himself while waiting for your reply, putting on his reading glasses to start his engineering homework. He sharpens his pencil with a 18mm cutter and tests it out on the thin graph paper. The angle’s right. So he starts sketching.

The thing about sketching for Sukuna is that he needs the angle. He doesn’t need focus, doesn’t need attention, just the angle. That’s the key to his technique of drawing precise and fast sketches. Ever since the second semester of his first year of his architectural engineering degree, he realizes that using a sharpener was making him inconsistent. The blade sharpens the pencil inside the small tool, and he can’t control the angle of it. He tried to explain this concept to his classmates, but they all looked at him crazy.

In simple terms, its when your write with your pencil for an extensive amount of time, it will smooth out to a certain angle where your handwriting is perfect. That’s the sweet spot.

Manually using a cutter to shave the pencil down at one side would grantee him a good start. After his sketch, he scans for mistakes, and transfers it to Autocad. It’s easier this way, since he doesn’t have to stare into his laptop for too long. Strains his eyes.

You : yes i wna game! You : can u download overcook 2 Ryo : my blood pressure might spike You : do u mind if i scold u You : im rly competitive at overcook Ryo : i might get hard

“She’s gonna say I’m a pervert.” Sukuna smirks to himself, biting the tip of his pencil absentmindedly.

You : pervert

“Hah.” Grinning like he won bingo, he logs onto his Steam account and downloads Overcook 2.

You : also i think we should shop-hop for our date Ryo : what? You : like cafe hopping but like just different shops You : like ok first we go eat soba then we go game store Ryo : damn You : then we go dessert and museum Ryo : damn You : then we go escape room then we go movie Ryo : jesus fuck Ryo : all that in under 8 hours? (assuming our date will start iat 12pm and end at night) You : YESSSAAA! >0< Ryo : sweetheart you either have insane time management or we’re gonna be speedrunning everything Ryo : will u even have fun if you don’t savor every event You : but the fun is with u!

Sukuna clicks his tongue and rubs the sore spot on the left side of his chest. That fuzzy feeling tickling his neck everytime he rereads your text. He’s been infected with Girlfriend-19.

Ryo : ok how abt this Ryo : u let me plan it so it’s more manageable Ryo : js tell me what u wna eat first You : i want zaru soba Ryo : done You : banana ice cream boat Ryo : done

“Well. Time to get my homework done.” Putting aside his engineering assignment, Sukuna goes into serious mode to search up small streets in Kyoto he could bring you to visit. Sure, he could simply bring you to the bigger streets, but those are usually filled with tourist and heavy traffic. It’s more romantic and peaceful to go to hole-in-the-wall places without all that excessive chatter. Just the two of us. And food. Man I’m starving. Wait.

He unlocks his phone one last time with a wry smirk.

Ryo : wow, so much food. im starving You : Ikr...drools.. Ryo : i hope ur on the menu too

“She’s either gonna say ‘gross’ or ‘pervert.” He snorts.

You : i wanna eat u too You : hehe You : ur rly big so theres alot to chew

He didn’t see that coming.

Ryo : ur trying to provoke me.  You : is it working? 👀👀👀👀👀

This girl…

He rolls his eyes with amusement. He had to step up his game.

Ryo : ur all big talk online, but when i was there you couldn’t even look me in the eye Ryo : can dish cant serve  You : ok wellYou : to tell u the truth You : i wanted to bite ur bicep when u were here ystd… You : i thought abt it but i was too shy ok u win

Sukuna almost chokes on his saliva, but his dignity remains. An imagery of you, flushed red and biting down on the meat on his arm flashes across his eyes, and he shivers.

“I better take a nap.” Adjusting his shorts, Sukuna plugs his phone on the charger and decides to sleep it off. He has to be on good behaviour for the game later tonight, but he’s sure when you get all nitpicky and angry with him, his mind is going into the gutter again.

— —

“I think you should layer that t shirt over the long sleeve one.”

Nobara chews on her chips over facetime, pointing her fingers at your outfit. You give 360 spins to her every outfit you change out of, clothes overflowing your bed and your floor scattered with shoes and socks to match.

Who knew picking an outfit for a date was going to be so hard? A dress was too unpractical for the activities Sukuna might have planned, but pants might be a little too casual. But maybe it doesn’t matter?

“If I were you, I’d go with that black flared jeans and that layered shirt. Do black on that navy blue.”

You listen to Nobara and dress up as she says, throwing your clothes all over the place. You turn left, then turn right.

“Nah.” You reject it.

“Yeah fuck that actually.” She agrees.

“You know what,” You speak, determination seeping into you tone, “I think I know what to wear.”

Diving deep into your closet, you find your old luggage bag, sneezing twice as the dust is the first thing to greet you. This was the luggage your mother has kindly packed for you before you came to Kyoto to study. There was thicker jackets and other not-so-casual outfits that you left behind inside it. Going through the layers, you found what you were looking for. Giving a few generous pats and spraying it down with fabric refreshners, you wear it and give it a twirl for Nobara to judge.

“That looks beautiful on you! This one this one!” Excitedly pointing at the screen, Nobara’s short hair sways a little with her, it’s a little funny. Her oily fingers dirty the her phone screen, so she bids goodbye with hope for a successful date. Her use of the word ‘successful’ reminds you of those mini games you used to play when you were younger, a school girl lasering her eyes at men on campus to win them over with seduction. Pssh. We used to play anything.

A careful knock on the door seizes your attention, grabbing your brown leather bag and stuffing it full with necesscities. What if you sneeze with snot? Tissue. What if your lips get dry? Vaseline. What if you run out small change? Some coins. What if—

“Hey, you ready?”

“Yep! Yep!” You hurry to open the door.

The sight that greets you at the door makes your lips part involuntarily. Sukuna mirrors your reaction, longingly savouring your appearance from head to toe, lingering his eyes at the flowers embroidery on your burgundy sleeve shirt, down to the flowery vines on the ruffles on your white long skirt down to your ankle. Paired with black leather boots.

Sukuna is dressed rather boldly in contrast. A white tank top with his dogtag necklace, a vintage leather jacket hanging on his shoulders. It’s miu miu. Okay, fancy money. Accomodating to the style and his muscular thighs, he doesn’t go for a classic skinny jeans, but a black cargo pants, paired with black boots as well. We match shoes! His pink hair is slightly combed back and less unkempt as usual, but you can tell the strands at the front is fighting for their life to go back to their unruly ways.

A small red nick on the underside of his jaw makes you smile to yourself. He shaved again just to look clean.

A bonquet of artificial flowers appear behind him as he reveals it rather slowly, a charming but sly smirk on his face. You once mentioned on text offhandedly that you were allergic to pollen. He remembers… It’s not just any flower as well. It’s Forget-Me-Nots. The blue hues of the flower complements your outfit.

“I don’t even know what to say. I think you camouflage right between these flowers I brought. You’re my little doll.” Sukuna stands there unmoving as he murmurs more to himself than to you, unable to peel his eyes away from the embroidery and the meek look on your face. He doesn’t stop even when you seem to hint at him to make room for you to walk out.

“You really think I look like a doll?” You grab ahold of the flowers, placing them neatly on your desk. You’ll arrange them later when you come back from your date. Maybe you’ll buy a nice little vase.

“You are a doll. Like those tiny Kokeshi dolls.” He holds your door for you, you lock your door and slip your key into your bag. “My mother used to collect a bunch of them,” He stares you down one last time, “Guess I see the appeal now.”

Puffing your cheeks to suppress a smile, you follow Sukuna to the carpark of your dorm building. You only been to the basement once since you didn’t have a car. Nobara has a scooter, and you both came down to the basement that summer. She then drove right into a parking ticket barrier. The rest is history.

Sukuna’s Toyota comes into view.

“Sorry. No dashing race car.” Less of an apology but rather a tease thrown at you.

“Well, I do have a dashing hot ride.” You finger point at him like a clown, and he scoffs before opening the door for you, climbing into the driver seat himself after.

“Touché, m’lady,” He mimics a mob boss in a soap opera, rubbing his hand over his chin in contemplation, “You wish for a dashing hot ride?” His hand comes up to obscure the side of his mouth in a secretive whisper, leaning over the centre console and closing the distance until he’s right by your ear, “It’s gonna be on my lap.” He pops the p.

“Yeeerrrr!”

“And you’d gotta brace for turbulence because you’ll bounce—”

“Ewww!'“

Turning on the engine of his car, Sukuna reverses out the parking lot, boisterously laughing like he’s been holding it in for a millenia. He predicts every single out of your attack combos, instinctively dodging your slaps on his arm, ending up grabbing your wrists to stop you before he crashes the car.

Along the highway, he turned up the radio, but then fusses about the horrible music and allows you to bluetooth connect your shared playlist you both created months ago when you were still strictly online. The playlist was a whole mess anyways. From the most depressing mitski song to the most outrageously loud hyperpop music, and a sprinkle of classical choir to metal music, guess you both were just enjoyers of anything, really.

Even if you were singing off-key, the both of you continued to terrorize the other drivers in the highway, especially since Sukuna had his side of the window open, knocking his knuckles against his car door with the beat of the melody. You actually anticipated him to be a rather tempered and uncouth driver with a potty mouth, but he mostly just whispers ‘the fuck?’ under his breath everytime a car cuts his line.

“There we go. Come on, let’s go.” Parking his car on the side of the road, Sukuna waits for you to gather yourself and hop out of his car. The part of town he brought you to is a more rural side of town, which is great. He did his homework. Cheaper food, and more to explore. No tourists to take up the queue and seats at the restaurant since their menus are only in japanese. The parking is also free since there’s less traffic.

Walking side by side, he pushes you gently to the safer side of the pedestrian path, away from the cars. It’s these little gestures that make you feel dizzy around him. So quaint. He already looks so handsome today, and these gentlemanly actions were making you wanting to chew off a piece of his face from a place of violent affection. A mother holding her child passes by you, and you grow aware of Sukuna’s hand dangling out of the sleeves of his jacket. It always comes so naturally to you to hold your family or your friend’s hands, but it feels like an impossible challenge to try to hold onto his hand. Is it too fast?

The thought disppears when he pulls you into a local restaurant.

“Zaru soba!” You chirp at the menu.

“Yup. Go on and praise me.” His arrogant grin wipes away your cheery beam.

Lunch passes by fast. You learn that Sukuna is quite good at conversation. He’s knowledgable about little trivias regarding the town or the food you’re enjoying. He’s like a walking encyclopedia and a poet. Apparently his head is always just running. Everything reminds him of something he’s seen or read about in the past. Whether or not it’s a Carl Jung theory or a psychoanalysis of a character from a thriller book he read. Sukuna has this innate ability to just accurately pinpoint and relate one thing to another. It’s amazing. He’s amazing.

He brings you to visit a green house after dessert. It makes you come to realize how he can handle heavy workload from engineering and also be a co-captain to his rugby team, and then his 20 other hobbies. He’s green-fingered, good cook, well rounded in his academic subjects and adapt to environments fast. Zoning out as he complains about the near extinction of the endangered Rafflesia, you conclude it. The world can’t seem to contain Sukuna. The amount of drive, ambition, and the self-indugent way he lives his life, proves himself a bigger person than he comes off from his physicality. The world is his oyster, and it keeps instantiating ideas for his thirst for knowledge.

What is he doing with you? You don’t know. You think you’re blessed with being with a really smart guy. With really high expectations for himself. With a really mysterious and secretive private life he shares with no one but you.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

The words tumble out of your quivering lips before you can stop yourself, overwhelmed by this strong need to be connected to him. You were initially going to wait for him to ask you first, but you figured you can’t wait.

“My pleasure.”

Surely you’ve become a temporary schizophrenic when sparkly glitter and flowers start to appear behind Sukuna as he smiles like a cheshire cat at you, canines poking out to say hello. You just want to kiss all over the tattoos on his face. You just want to kiss his face. You just want to kiss him.

And how dare he look so adorable eating the banana boat ice cream. How dare he look so cocky when you feed him a spoon of chocolate ice cream. How dare he fuss over the percentage of cocoa in the chocolate.

“I got the bill. Winning tournaments pay me a good amount.” He winks nonchalantly.

How dare he pay for every meal even though you insisted to split.

The rest of the date is so nauseatingly wonderful that you feel like you just got off a rollercoaster. In the car, he assertively slapped his hand over yours on your lap and held it the entire way back to your dorm building. No novelty, no grand gesture. Simply held your hand like it was the most mundane thing in the world, like it was bound to happen. Then you thought, Wow. This might be my guy.

“Guess this is it.”

Reaching your door step, you still cling onto his hand, swinging it side to side like a whining child. You’re not sure where to start, to voice out how happy he made you today. Stepping on his boots, you make him wait for you to speak.

“Do…do you want to stay the night…” Your fingers lace over his rough ones, and his index finger points upwards.

“Look up.”

You listen and his chin rests snugly on the top of your head, his dogtags tickle the hollow of your throat as it dangles.

 “I didn’t buy any condoms.” He whispers.

“O-oh.”

Sukuna chuckles softly, not needing to look down to know you have your face buried into your palms, hiding into his jacket.

“I didn’t say anything about sex…” You lightly pull on his jacket.

“Uh, you don’t just say ‘d-do you want to stay the n-n-night’ after a date if you don’t want to do something.” He playfully mocks you, an ‘oof’ noise leaving him when u smack his chest.

“I thought guys always had condoms on the go…”

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

“Why?”

“‘Cuz I was busy talking to a certain sleepy girl zero four?” He coos in a manner to feign innocence.

You lift your head up in surprise. He’s been celibate ever since? That was like…approximately 5 months ago. Probably. You don’t have good memory on when you started talking online, only around June did you only cross into flirty grounds.

“I thought you were sexually active?”

“Okay now,” Sukuna lets you go and raises his hands up to your face, “I’m not sleeping with every woman in the world, alright?”

“Then?”

“I, well,” He scratches his nose, unsure how to explain without potentially upsetting you, “I used to have two flings, that’s all. One in high school and another during the early years of college. 17 and 21. I’m 26 now, alright?”

“17? That’s so early…” You gasp. When you were 17, you were still reading romance books online. It was also around that time when your friend introduced you to porn. To think that Sukuna was already having sex by that time… He must have given his virginity to someone else…

“Was your first time with a girl you like?” You pry.

He hesitates, “I would say no, not really. We were both 17 and curious. It was more of an impulsive decision on both our parts.”

“What about the second time? Like a time when you seriously enjoyed having sex? Did you kiss her?” You pry even further, voice cracking.

“I don’t think you should hear about this right now.”

“So did you like her or not?” Your voice cracks even higher.

“Okay, let’s just— come on-” Sukuna can sense that you’re about to cry, and moves quick on his feet to usher you into your dorm, pulling off his jacket and hanging it. He pulls you by your pinky finger to your bed, but you refuse to sit down with ‘outside clothes’. Heading to your bathroom to wash up, Sukuna takes the chance to sheds off his cargo pants, leaving himself in his black boxers to sit on your bed. He knows it’s really forward to strip himself down to his underwear right after a first date, but he can’t return to his dorm room to shower, at least not right now.

— —

He slaps his thigh to stop his leg from bouncing while waiting for you, feeling goosebumps prick his skin. You have a lot of plushies, and the laptop that you use to call him late at night was charging on your desk, with some figurines. He’s trying to think of something to make you feel better about his past flings, but his mind is eerily empty now. Sukuna can’t think of anything else other than holding you.

Emerging out from your shower, he admires your vulnerable form. Hair damp at the ends, tshirt collar soaked with droplets of water, comfy shorts hugging your thighs. A furious blush paints your face upon noticing he’s only in his boxers and white tank, tripping over yourself to sit next to him. Without much warning, he pulls you up to lap instead, folding his burly arms over your lower back. Then you’re straddling him and fisting the fabric of his tank top.

“The past is in the past, and it’s doesn’t define anything about me or my feelings as of now.” He speaks carefully, watching your reaction, “If I didn’t want to be here with you in your room, I wouldn’t be here in your room, simple as that.”

“I mean, what if you were in a situation where you couldn’t be with someone—”

“I have never been put in situation where I was forced to do something I did not want to.” He sternly interrupts you, and it stops your endless streams of questions from a place of insecurity.

“Look,” He adjusts you in his lap, pulling you closer, “I do what I want, when I want. I see who I want, when I want. If I don’t want to do something, nobody, and I repeat, absolutely nobody can make me do it.”

You nod, and his finger pulls on your lower lip so you stop pouting.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks, pinching your hip between his thumb and index finger.

“I would really like to kiss you.” You murmur.

“Then kiss me you shall.” He smirks.

You lean in closer, until your nose tips touch, and nuzzle against his. Sukuna’s eyes droops down until it’s half lidded, lips parting slightly, waiting for you to make a move. Your eyes flicker to his, and he follows. Just when you’re about to bless him with the taste of your lips, you pull away with a scrunch on your nose, leaving him confused.

“Sorry I- I forgot.” You shut your eyes tight, trying to remember what you watched.

“Forgot?” He licks his lips, staring at your lips, then up to your eyes back and forth.

“I’m suppose to like, caress you first to stimulate you.”

Sukuna blinks at you before some electric signal connects in his brain and he instantly grasps something. No.

“Don’t tell me you watched a tutorial on how to kiss.”

He watch your eyes go wide, before looking away at the wall, then nodding like a baby caught with a hand down the cookie jar. You seriously watched some Youtube video on how to kiss and tried to apply it on him like a math equation. Sukuna desperately wants to laugh, but he hates that he finds it cute that you deliberately went out of your way to prepare yourself. Just who is the one taking the lead here? He suppose he could take the lead, but the obnoxious part of him wants to watch you struggle.

“Well, go ahead and apply it. I’m waiting.” He taunts you, feeling a little restless. His boxers are gradually getting too tight and too warm for his own good, and if you don’t make a move soon he might mentally combust and feel a ravenous beast take over him with primitive instinct. Then he’d have to excuse himself back to his dorm because he doesn’t have a condom and he’s surely not to put you at risk of whatever you both might do in the heat of the moment.

He waits til you caress his jaw, scratching your nails on his Adam’s Apple til it bobs. You’re feeling him up like you’re trying to film an ASMR video. You touch his collarbone and the tattoo on his shoulder, running your hands up his nape and ghost your fingers over the shell of his ear. Okay, you got moves. It’s definitely getting him hard.

Impatient, Sukuna brings your hand towards his chin, pushing your thumb on his chin. Up and higher, and it presses down on his lower lip. He grins all crooked and evil before pushing your thumb in his mouth.

You gasp with a stutter and he grabs your wrist, pushing your thumb deeper into his mouth until the pad of your thumb presses down on the bumps and ridges of his wisdom teeth. He closes his eyes and start to suck on your thumb, watching you through his blurry vision, watching you get hazy and entranced by him laving on your thumb.

What are you imagining? Him sucking on your tongue the same way? Your breast? Your…

He pulls out your thumb with a wet pop, let his drool trickle down your wrist. By your expression, he can tell you’re going to say it’s nasty or dirty. But then you keep quiet, and proceed to lick it up from your wrist.

“Jesus fuck,” It’s his turn to gasp, his hands moving to cup your jaw and pulling you in. Your lips meet with a knock of teeth, getting your head tilted by Sukuna’s grip. His nose lines up perfectly with yours, nose tip pressing into your cheek just the same on yours on his. Every time you pull away too fast or falter in the kiss, his hand on your throat squeezes once, and you moan quietly into his mouth to make him stop. He thinks you’re smart for picking up on his cues, but he also just likes to Pavlov you into thinking you have to make a sweet sound for him in response to a squeeze. Good girl. Now it’s his little party trick.

You kiss pretty sloppy, he thinks. It’s also really hot, because this is the best you can do from your inexperience. This is your first kiss, and you’re fondling with his tongue and biting at his lip and mushing your mouths together like mixing cake batter. You’re giving your all, so he has to give his all too. Give and take, give and take. You give him one swirl of your tongue and he sucks a purple bruise on your neck. You give him one choked whimper and he grinds up your crotch twice.

In the mist of the heated make-out his head starts to really spin. Conjuring up a thousand different position he can put you in, and one thing that he can put in your mouth. His hands reflexively squeeze your thighs once to regain the last ounce of self control he has. Sukuna tries to think about math. About engineering. About the shitty meal he had yesterday. Then your legs clench together helplessly and he yanks you off his mouth before he eats you alive.

“I..” Sukuna pants, watching the saliva string that connects your lips break apart, “I have my rugby final tomorrow. I can’t afford to exhaust myself the night before.” His chest heaves up and down, swallowing at the dazed and drowsy look on your face, before pulling you to his chest so you can lay down. His back leans on your headboard and he sighs.

That was so fucking close.

The both of you stay silent for a while, and he can only give a dry laugh when you burrow yourself into his chest because you start to gain awareness of what you’ve done. Your first kiss. He has to palm his boxers so the traitor in his pants doesn’t jump out to scare you.

“Sukuna.”

“Yeah?”

“That was really nice.”

“Oh yeah. It was.”

“All the best for your match tomorrow.”

“You bet.”

“Is rugby really important to you?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re really good at rugby and you’re really cool on the field.”

“Thank you sweetheart. I think you illustrate beautiful designs for your class as well.”

“Thank you…I don’t know how you manage to juggle rugby and engineering.”

“It’s not that hard. I make time for things I want to do.”

“Why engineering though? It’s so different from rugby.”

“I make time for things I want to do.”

“But like why?”

Oh, so it’s going there now. Right. The part that Sukuna dreads the most.

“It’s complicated.” He simply states. You get up from his chest and look at him all pitiful like a cat that’s about to ask a curious question that will kill you and you will start to resent him for it. He braces himself for the inevitable.

“Complicated how?”

Here we go.

“Familial expectations.”

What kind of expectations?

“What kind of expectations?”

It’s exactly the way he predicts it to go, except ten times more difficult to process when it’s with the person that he has grown fond of. There’s not really a roundabout way to put someone down slowly. Sukuna wished he could cradle you in his arms and lay you down a patch of lilies and put you to sleep, so you would stop running your mouth about this matter with his past.

“How about we talk about something else? I can tell you really interesting facts about the architectural structure of Amsterdam buildings.” He bargains gently.

“But I’m soooo curious about my boyfrienddd…” You whine sweetly, ignorant to the strained tension in his neck.

“And I’m really tired and I want to sleep.” He fakes a yawn. You don’t slip past it this time.

“Come onnn, you don’t sleep this early. We used to game all the time past midnight. You’re avoiding the question.” Your hands are now clutching his shoulders and Sukuna fears he might peel them away so he could leave. Not you, but the question.

He exhales once out of his mouth.

“Once again, my past does not define who I am and the choices I make in the present. It doesn’t matter, and you don’t need to know about it. It’s not pleasant to hear.”

“You think I can’t handle it?” Your voice grows tense.

“It’s not a matter of if you can, or cannot. It’s just,” He looks at you, really looks you, “It’s none of your business and not something you need to concern yourself with.”

He watch the stubborn frown grow on your face, then it morphs into something offensive and insulting.

 “You said familial expectations. I thought you said no one could ever force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Now it completely blows over.

“You know nothing about the context regarding the circumstances I have willingly subjected myself into. So, no, nobody has forced me to do anything, but I have things that I expect myself to complete that does not concern our future together. I suggest you drop this topic.”

 “Why are you suddenly speaking this way? Don’t you trust me? Being together is about sharing happiness and shouldering burdens!” You argue back as Sukuna gets up and dresses himself, pinching his nose bridge to tune you out. Unfortunately he has honed senses.

“So now you’re the master at togetherness and dating?” He barks back cold and cruel, while you stand up on your bed to get on his eye level so he does not have an automatic advantage in the argument when it comes to height.

“You’re being mean.”

“This is who I am.”

“That’s not what I said,” You clench your fist, “You’re intentionally being mean. You don’t want to share things about yourself because you’re being a coward right now.”

Sukuna scoffs so loud you think you’ll remember it for the rest of your week.

“Firstly,” He starts, looking into your red-rimmed eyes, and he knows there’s no going back now, “There is absolutely nothing you can do to ‘shoulder’ my burdens or whatever hardship that you think I’m going through. Because I’m not. Secondly, I do not wallow in self pity nor do I struggle with insecurity.” And that’s hinting about you. “Lastly, our relationship has not progressed to a stage where I am obliged to share personal information with you.”

Your face goes blanch.

“So I’m expendable?”

He rubs his face and grabs his jacket from the hanger.

To make matters worse, Sukuna does not slam your door when he leaves. He closes it quietly, and there’s no sound of his boots stomping down the hallway.

—- —

“Ok I guess it’s really fuck him this time.”

“Nobara! Stop, I can’t. I can’t.” Getting tears and snot all over her shirt, you wail and cry like a baby in Nobara’s room as she does her homework. It’s been a week since you’ve spoken to Sukuna, and the dam of tears that you held in since the fight has finally broke down and overflow. The urge to throw up is strong.

“I’m sorry for you girl, I really am, but it really might be over. I mean, that fucker even bashed you about your insecurities. It’s karma he lost his final game.” Nobara pets your head and rubs your back while you hiccup, shaking your head.

“Stop, I’m not happy he lost the game. Nothing to do with it at all. I just- I just don’t understand why he would rather not speak to me anymore than talk about his family or his past. All I asked was ‘why engineering’…” You cry harder, replaying the entire fight in your head again and again and again. He didn’t even say anything about the loss of his game too.

“Men kind of just switch up like that. It’s easier for him to buy you flowers than apologize, I suppose.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Hey, no. The time you have spent with him was valid and it was sweet. Doesn’t erase the affection you both shared during the date. What matters now is how you navigate the fight, or, how you move on from this.” Nobara soothes you until you stop sniffling into tissue papers that are taking up half of her desk, sighing as she finishes her drawing.

“What do you think about the lace design?” She shows you her sketch, and you rub away the tears in your eyes to squint at it.

“Think the cutting could be different.” Your voice stabilizes.

“Hm. I think so too.” She agrees.

The rest of your week passes by relatively slow. Usually you’d throw a tantrum over how fast time seems to move and how deadlines are always creeping up on you, but this time, your assignments are all handed in early, and you have nothing to do. Right. That’s because you used to fill your free time with Nobara, assignments, and playing video games with Cursedguy07. Now that the slot is empty, you have half of the day to yourself.

You figured you could just hop on the game and play it by yourself like you always have before Sukuna came into your life, but getting on the game was reminding you of him, then the date, then the fight, then it snowballs into you getting heartbroken again. You really, really, need to participate in three new hobbies to distract yourself and move on.

It’s immature to think that Sukuna has broken up with you over your first ever fight after dating for less than a month, however, it’s so bleak. Sure, he didn’t outright say ‘we’re over!’, but it sure feels like it. Sukuna is not the type to hold back when something does not benefit him, so he would have definitely voiced out a his want for a break up if he did truly desired it. But he didn’t. Yet there’s no messages at all.

For the sake of your pride, you obviously did not reach back out to him first. It’s not your fault anyways. Right…? Who knows at this point? He didn’t deny you were expendable, didn’t reassure you that you were crucial in his life. What’s the point?

So, you try.

Pottery class on Saturdays. Brilliant. Fun. Get your hands all wet with clay and shaping silhouette of little critters and lopsided teacups. Making a doll that looks like Nobara and she smudges clay on your cheek to make you squirm and giggle. A couple walks in with the boy planting a loving kiss to his sweetheart’s hair and your tears start to mix in with the clay, turning your body to face the blank popcorn wall.

Volleyball Fridays. Wooo, fun! Smacking the ball as hard as you can with misdirected anger and releasing tension. Great. Works you out in a sweat. Then you pan your head over and see a certain pink-haired rugby player scolding a junior and you have to pretend you’re blind and you’re not imagining yourself in place of that junior getting verbally abused by him.

Self love Sundays. You take long baths, scrub out all that grime from your skin and let the bubbles in the water engulf you. Dry yourself with a towel and wear a robe to sleep. The warmth of your bed lacks a heartbeat and heavy breathing, so you end up sleeping at 6 in the morning and wake at 8.

How?

How?

HOW?

“How the fuck did people ever move on without blowing their shit clean offffmfnghh!!!!”

“Girl don’t fucking yell in my ear!” Nobara silences you by cupping your mouth with her hand, ignoring your protests.

“I lichrally feel liek im goingfawking crazyyyy!” You shove yourself into her pillowcase.

“Stop rolling in my bed oh my god. Woah! Hey! Don’t get your spit on my pillow!”

“He called me his sweetheart and said it was his pleasure to be my boyfriend!! I’m expendable!”

“Girl please stop I beg you. You’re messing up my sheets!”

“He even sucked on my thumbbbbb arrghhghhhh!!”

“EW!”

“Should I text him first? Should I? Should I?!”

“Stop it! You madwoman! Don’t text him and give me your fucking phone! I’m confiscating it! Mine now! Mine!”

— —

“If you fumble this pass one more time, I think you need to man up and quit this fucking team, and quit sports altogether,” He snarls right into the poor rookie’s face, “Your technique is sloppy, you run as if you have asthma. Nothing you do is commendable, and you do nothing to contribute to the success of the team.”

“You’re actually being a fucking cunt right now,” Toji pulls Sukuna away by his shoulders, giving a chance for the younger boy to escape his wrath, “That loss was a group problem, not just on one guy. You know this, Sukuna.”

“You wanna run the replay back?” A painted finger jabs straight into Toji’s chest, making him grunt and back away one step.

“We ran that tape 4 fucking times already. Don’t act like you’re hot shit. What’s gotten into you? Stick up your ass? Broke up with your girl—'“

“We did not fucking break up. Don’t talk to me Toji. Piss me the fuck off,” Sukuna shoves at him, and Toji shoves back twice as hard, “Me and her are fine, thank you for your concern.”

He starts to walk off the field, and Toji follows.

“Oh really? I haven’t seen you smiling like a fucking idiot on your phone for like, what,” Toji counts his fingers with full ridicule, “2 weeks, minimum. Matter of fact, you don’t even reply to my messages too.”

“I still came to practice didn’t I? What? So sensitive about me not replying to your text, huh, Toji? What, am I your girlfriend?” Sukuna jeers at Toji sarcastically, arms wide open with his back towards him, Toji scowls.

“So you and your girl did argue!” Toji shouts.

Sukuna flips him off, not looking back.

“Fuck, I always wanted a reason to beat the fuck out of you!” Toji smacks his hand right across the back of Sukuna’s head. The impact makes a loud crack.

Everyone including Gojo approaches the commotion, until Sukuna ominously turns around slowly, and everyone decides minding their business.

Why does everybody love to stick their nose into his fucking business?

Sukuna took the stairs back to his dorm with a nosebleed and a pounding headache. He’s been taking the stairs these two weeks. No reason. He’s just pumping his thighs up and getting more work in his joints. He removes his kneepad and his socks, throwing them into his laundry bin. Frustratedly pulling off his sweaty jersey, he throws it on the bathroom floor before taking a shower.

Under the cold spray of water, Sukuna reaches for his body wash. He’s giving you space. He’s under the assumption that you’re an insecure 24 year old teenage girl and you need space to get mad and upset with him before he’s allowed to be within 10 feet of your proximity. So why is he also feeling irked even though he was the one to shut down the conversation? Sukuna knows. He does not like the answer to his own question.

Pressing down on his nosebleed hard, Sukuna groans long and low into the lull of his bathroom. He had implied that you were expendable and you’re nosey about your own boyfriend. Which he still thinks he stands by his statement, just not the expendable part. How is he suppose to articulate that he wants you around without you trying to get under his skin but he still really likes you and it hasn’t changed?

He squirts some shampoo onto his calloused fingers, wincing when the soap seeps into a cut in his fingernail. Isn’t the point of keeping a girlfriend, to make her happy? Happy wife, happy life? Why can’t you see he’s just trying to keep you away from all the unhappy filth? Is it necessary to tell you about…

Sukuna feels as if he’s back in his 17 year old mindset again. Haughty. One track mind. Fight anyone who doesn’t agree with him. Physically, academically, and athletically. There wasn’t anything in his life that proved to be any speck of an obstacle, other than his mother. He thinks about his mother, he starts to lose his sense of sanity. Video games soothe him, math relaxes him, doing physical activities boosts his dopamine reactors and makes him go into some kind of overdrive. High.

Slipping on his boxers and sweatpants, he looks around his room in search for his glasses, tidying up the stack of papers on his desk. Scratching the back of his neck, he decides to finish his homework, and his own extra side tasks he assigned himself.

The first shave of his pencil and the lead breaks off.

“So I’m expendable?”

He blows air out his nose and shaves it again until he gets it right, then he lands his pencil right on the paper. Clean cut strokes, it’s accurate…crooked form. Erase. Label the length, some tips to take note of…the pencil’s not right. Erase.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

No, no, no. It’s not the pencil’s problem. It’s his mindset. Clear your mind. Clear your mind.

“I would really like to kiss you.”

Fuck!

Sukuna stretches his arm across the vast horizon of his table to reach for his phone. To his horror, you had sent him three messages, then take it back afterwards.

You : *unsent a message* You : *unsent a message* You : *unsent a message*

Toji was right. Going on Do Not Disturb was a terrible idea.

His thumb anxiously taps on the side of his phone. For someone who was so literate, the words were flying away from him.

Ryo : hey

Too casual. Backspace.

Ryo : look im really sorry

Too flippant. Backspace.

Ryo : i miss you.

Too sleazy. Backspace.

“I’m turning imbecilic.” He announces to no one.

Ryo : hey, what did you send? Ryo : i left my phone in my dorm while i was at the field

There.

Ryo : i missed you

Backspace.

“…More than I can say.” He bites his lip.

Ryo : more than i can say.

Backspace.

A good 5 minutes pass, and you finally reply. It’s probably Nobara’s advice to you to leave him hanging for a good while before texting back. He smiles to himself wryly imagining you sitting like a gargoyle, gawking at your phone to see if 5 minutes has passed yet or not.

You : i sent to the wrong number.  Ryo : cmon, don’t lie. just tell me what you sent. Ryo : i care about what you think Ryo : you can take your sweet time replying me, i can wait.

Sukuna assumes you’re going to leave him on the edge of his seat again, but this time you respond instantly.

You : i sent you a picture of your jersey at my place if you want to take it back You : also sent you a picture of me at a bar

His eye twitches.

Ryo : you can keep my jersey Ryo : im not taking it back, do not throw it away Ryo : what are u doing at a bar? u don’t drink. You : i was js You : idk Ryo : if you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s very immature Ryo : but it’s working and im worried Ryo : where r u

A chill over his body urges him to put on a shirt and grab his car keys and scour the entire Kyoto city for you, recklessly folding his papers away and slotting his glasses back into the casing.

Ryo : sweetheart this is not funny at all where are you Ryo : is nobara at least there with you? Ryo : did u consume any alcohol? Ryo : can u describe the place? do you know the name of the place?

A notification from you regains his attention.

You : m back already You : i js went to the bar to have fries and matcha

Sukuna covers his eyes with his arm, tilting his head up towards the ceiling with a loud relieved sigh.

“I think I just grew seven strands of white hair.”

A painful reminder on why exactly he likes you, really. Sometimes the things you say just throw him so off guard, Sukuna is not sure if he should laugh or get mad.

Ryo : can i come over? You : nop Ryo : can u come over? You : y

Why are you texting like that? A vein pops on his forehead.

Ryo : why are u texting like this You : like wat Ryo : like you cannot be bothered to reply me You : im js

His patience frays, feeling like clouds of smoke is about to puff out from his ears.

You : im trying to stay mad and upset at you but i cant and i dont want to reply you but i cant because i really miss u and its really pathetic to miss u so much when u were so mean to me

Oh, I see.

There are three bulletpoints of human behaviour that Sukuna relinquishes control to when it comes down to it. One, all the irreversible decisions that he makes, he will never to be regrettable about them. Two, the insatiable greed to never feel fulfilled with what he currently has. Three, the irresistible and fragile thing called ‘human connection’.

Ryo : i miss you more than words can convey

At any point of his life, he will find himself at cross roads with one of the three. Even if he hates it, he enjoys silly conversations between his teammates. Even if he had an endless appetite for knowledge, he never found the need to quench his thirst.

You : u dont soubnd liek u miss me

He would reverse all that arrogance he displayed when he was at your place that night.

Ryo : leave your door unlocked You : i dont want Ryo : i’ll tell you everything Ryo : please You : ok i will i guess. not bc u said plz but bc u said u’ll tell me

He grabs a thick file at the bottom of all his papers in his shelf.

You : actually can u say please again

— —

“Please open the door.” A deep voice knocks at your door despite it already being unlocked.

Smoothing down your tank top and your shorts, you pose into your mirror to try to look angry but seductive at the same time. Nobara said you should dress the way Padme did when she went to reject Anakin. So you went for a tank top that reveals your cleavage and tight shorts. Sukuna has to die one way or another.

He invites himself in while holding a blue file, and looks you up and down. No reaction. Eughhhh whatever.

Placing down the folder on the floor, like a Samurai getting ready for retribution, Sukuna kneels down on the floor with both hands on his thighs. Stunned and unprepared for his sudden grand gesture, you follow suit and sit crossed-legged on the floor. Sukuna follows you and sits crossed-legged too, so you don’t know what the fuck that was about. He’s strange in his ways too. Maybe he was just trying to get comfortable.

He clears his throat as if a speech by the president is about to happen and you’re all ears like the subservient follower you are.

“Firstly, I want to clarify that I meant what I said that night—”

“Excuse me?!” You blurt out.

“—As it would be in-genuine of me to say I didn’t mean what I said. I now regret my words, and I want to take it back.”

“Oh.” You shrink back.

“You were right. You’re my girlfriend, and there are certain aspects and history of me that you deserve to know, and have the right to know. I’m aware that I’m closed off, private, and quite autonomous.”

So formal…

“What I’m trying to say is,” Sukuna licks his lips once, and it’s the first time speaking came so arduous to him, “I cannot be without you and I’m willing to take the risk if that’s what it takes.” it comes out strong yet tortured.

You feel like a gust of wind just tore through your window and blew right into your face until it contorts into an indistinguishable expression. Sukuna apologizing and confessing his feelings so bluntly was causing you shell shock.

He looks up at you through his lashes and he genuinely looks like a dog breed you cannot recall the name of.

“I’m waiting.”

“O-oh! Right right! Uhh..” Put on the spot, you scratch your elbow. It trips you out when he’s so formal. Now he’s waiting for you to reply as if you’re both in a turned-base game and its your turn to strike.

“Do you want me to comfort you first or you listen to me run you down on my engineering career path?”

“Uhm..uhm, the latter please.” It’s like you’re ordering coffee.

Sukuna reaches for the folder, taking out some yellowed and old papers, and then turn them towards you, laying them one by one on the floor. It’s a scrawl of sketches, engineering stuff that you can’t understand, but you can tell they’re not finished. Some of the pen ink are smeared, some are fresh with his own handwriting. There’s another handwriting you don’t recognize.

“I took up architectural engineering because I enjoy architecture. That’s the minor factor. Major factor would be,” He rubs his nose, “Trying to complete my mother’s passion project.”

You look down once again to skim the papers. Indeed. The papers has his mother’s name on a few pages, albeit the faded ink.

“Sorry if it’s offensive, but I don’t get it. Why did you not want to tell me this? This seems completely, like, normal.” You chew on your words.

“Because I didn’t want to let you know that I was steering my path into life with someone else’s ambition as my goal. Going pro in rugby is what I truly plan to do after that.”

So it’s his pride.

“But I would understand though, like, it’s your mother?” Your brows furrow harder.

Sukuna’s mouth open and closes, breathing in and breathing out. He drums his fingers on the ground for a second.

“My mother had contributed to shape who I am today, despite my insistence that I am my own being. In a way, I chose to be blindsided about the after effects of her upbringing on me. But the choices I made are mine.” He rubs his nose.

“Um…Can you hold me while you talk? I want to feel close to you…” You meekly request, and he nods, gripping your arm and pulling you towards him, then grabbing your hips to sit you down on his lap, back against his chest. Feeling the familiar thrum of his heartbeat, you fidget with his fingers on your lap.

“Her papers and design are quite a challenge.” He holds up the paper towards you, letting your fingers run across it. The way he’s holding you resembles a mother reading a picture book to her child. You snort and he asks you whats so funny, you zip it.

“How was your mother like as a person?” You peer up at him.

“The only word that could encapsulate her is…self-sacrificial.”

“Can you stop talking in this really solemn way…I’m a bit scared I’m not going to lie.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and holding you closer until your hair tickles his chin.

“In simple terms, I hate her.”

“That escalated fast.”

“Yeah. But not hatred in the classic way.” He sniffles from the air conditioner, “My mother used to be very volatile. Everyday when I got back home school, I can never predict if she was going to throw a vase at me or tend to my wounds from the previous day.”

You hug his arm tight.

“I didn’t know what to do. I fought people at school for badmouthing her, even though I would wish for her demise behind her back.” The grip Sukuna has on his papers start to crinkle them, so you swiftly take it away and place it back down on the floor.

This is really cliche.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t pity me,” He’s quick to cut you off, “It wasn’t her fault. She had postpartum depression.”

“Oh.”

“She was an aspiring engineering before she got pregnant. I can’t tell you the details on how and why she got pregnant with me, since I’m murky about them as well, but I can tell you she was fucking brilliant.” There’s a huge pride in his tone, almost as if he’s astonished.

No.

“I hate that she gave up engineering when she’s so good at what she does. This project—” You cover Sukuna’s mouth with your hand, and his eyes grow wide.

This isn’t what I wanted.

“I don’t want to know more. I respect your decision.” Your red nose and pouting lips tells him all that he needs to know, and he nods. You help him pack up all the papers and files and place them neatly into the folder again.

You turn around and loop your arms around his corded neck, noticing he didn’t wear his dogtag before he came. He really did only have a single mind to come to you after your text. His warm hands rubs circles on your back, making you feel drowsy and pampered. He plants a kiss on your shoulder and you return him a kiss on his ear.

“I guess I would hate it if you found out about this and think I’m some broken guy need fixing. I’m 26 and holding up well.” He whispers into the crook of your neck, trying to refamiliarize himself with the scent of your skin.

“I don’t think that way at all. I just wanted to know more about you. Because we’re like, you know, together…” You smile shyly against his skin.

“Hm.”

“Hm.”

“Haih.”

“Hehe.”

“Sweetheart.”

“Boyfie.”

“Wow we’re cringe as fuck.”

“We don’t have to tell people.”

“True.”

“Ya.”

“…”

“…”

“This is really inappropriate and horrible timing but I have an insane urge to fuck you right now.”

You pull away immediately with apple-coloured cheeks. Right after such a heavy conversation?!

“W-whot?! Really?! Why?!”

“Probably because we had like a breakthrough in our relationship? Something of the sort.” He shakes his shoulder, scratching the back of his neck, eyes a little dark, “Also your boobs were sitting really nicely the entire time we were talking and I’m going haywire.”

Your cheeks redden even more if its possible.

“S-so you brought a condom before apologizing to me?!”

“Obviously not,” He rolls his eyes, “We don’t need to have penetrative sex the first time. Unless you don’t want to do anything at all, then we can just sleep.”

“I want to have sex!” You raise your hand immediately as if you were being called on in class for popcorn reading, and Sukuna chuckles while holding his stomach, then holding you up by your waist and crash the both of you into your bed.

Sukuna immediately press his entire weight on you, smothering you with a kiss. It feels so natural to kiss now. Your hands snake into his undercut, then his pink hair, pulling onto it when his tongue goes too far down the cavern of your mouth and it feels like he’s taking oxygen from you. He breaks the kiss, licking his way down your jaw, then into your cleavage and you pull the collar of your tank top down until the cotton string makes a snappy sound.

Staring at your boobs, he parts his lips, wider, then sticks his tongue out a little, but then he stops.

“Do- do you like what you see…?” You try to be seductive, but the question sounded like you were expecting a bad grade.

“I fucking love what I see.” He grabs a handful of your boob and you feel shy when it slightly flows out in between his fingers. You whine and pull at his hair to get him to do something. As if he can’t be more of a tease, he blows cold air onto your nipples until it hardens and he stifles his laughter when you yank his hair harder.

His mouth finally latches onto your boob, and it feels like heaven on earth. Who knew having your nipples sucked felt this good?! You should make him do this more often as punishment when he makes you mad. But with the way he’s swirling, sucking, biting at your nipple, he would think it’s more of a reward.

You’re already quivering, whimpering with your head leaned back on your pillow, and the man still had the gall to press his freehand down between your legs. His thumb absentmindedly rubs over your clothed crotch until he finds the spot that makes you cry outloud and threaten to pull his hair out from the roots.

“S-sukuna please-”

“Feels really good, right? Getting your pussy rubbed so hard and your nipples sucked.” His mouth trails down to your belly button, giving it a kiss, before pulling down your shorts to reveal your cotton panties. You try to cover yourself up with your hands but he simply swats them away.

“I told you on call, you weren’t playing with your clit hard enough.” Two fingers tight together, he presses down on your clothed clit like a critical button. It makes you whine and kick your legs and he has to hold your legs down with a lovingly cocky smile on his face. “When I do it,” he watches a wet spot grow in the center of your underwear, rubbing fast circles on your clit, “You’d cum pretty fast.”

You do cum, and it’s fast and violent and you can’t remember if you bit down on your lip or Sukuna’s thumb. The cold pleasure electrocutes through your body and seemingly transfers to Sukuna as well. He wished he could say he ripped off his shirt in this really masculine and sexy manner, but he was in too much of a blur to get on top of you that his shirt almost yanked him down the bed due to his brute strength.

Your hands run down his bulky torso, the tattoos on his chest and shoulder.

“Do you like what you see?” He repeats after you, and you giggle at him turning his body to flex, showing off his back tattoo.

“I fucking love what I seeeeeee.” You repeat after him and pinch his pecs, and he groans from the pain-pleasure.

“You minx.” He smiles down at you with closed blissful eyes, thumb pushing into the waistband of his pants and boxers.

You lean back a little and he laughs.

“My dick is not Jack-In-The-Box, don’t worry. It’s not gonna jump out at you.” He shimmies out his boxers, “I am pretty fucking horny though. so it is really erect right now.”

Now, between your legs, there is a penis. To you, a penis is like a limited edition object you only see in porn. You’re no penis connoisseur, and you barely know your biology. Sukuna’s penis, no, cock, looks nothing like the ones in porn. He’s watching your reaction. You don’t know what to say.

“Uh, should I put it away or…?'“

“It…it looks like a really big worm.”

“Noted with thanks…?”

“And it’s like..thick. Like cactus…”

“You failed Biology, didn’t you?”

Sukuna has no idea why he got even harder and leaked more precum when you came closer to measure the length of his cock with your palm. How is he even hard after your absurd descriptions of his manhood, he has no idea. It’s really weird what a girlfriend can do to a man’s sexual libido.

“Is this 4 inches?” Your question was so genuine it made him cough.

“Are you trying to drive me fucking nuts? Because I can let you test out how ‘4 inches’ feel down your throat.” Sukuna dryly states, a hungry look on his face. He lightly taps the tip of his cock on your lips.

“What if I throw up on it?” You poke the tip and it jumps.

“Shit. If it happens, it happens. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Sukuna bites his lower lip.

You quickly shake your head, not prepared for that to go into your mouth. The pitiful look on your face gets him going really bad, he has to bite on his fists to not bust on the spot.

“For the record,” Sukuna pushes you down on the bed again, crawling above you, “That’s not just 4 inches, but it doesn’t matter since I won’t put it in for now.”

“What are you gonna do then?” You whisper, thighs squeezing together, feeling an uncomfortable wetness between your legs.

He kisses your forehead.

“Hump.” He speaks hotly into your face and pops the P.

Before you can even process how hot Sukuna looked, he grabs the fat of your thigh and slot you right between his own, angling it properly. Lowering himself down, you gasp when his cock presses against your underwear. Penises are warm. Hooking his finger into the side of your underwear, he pushes his cock in between the fabric, and you mewl. Directly into his ear, nail digging into his shoulder.

It’s so warm. It’s so hot. It’s so hot!

“Is- Is your precum mixing with my cum in my panties!” You blurt out and Sukuna grits his teeth, wondering if you’re saying all these things to test how thick the last rope of his self control it. You really meant it when you said you never had a guy in your room.

“I’m trying not to fuck you silly since we don’t have a condom, so kindly stop saying things that makes me want to shove it inside you, thank you very much.” He grits.

You think about it.

Really hard. Really really hard. Sukuna would take care of you. He promised. He wouldn’t do anything to make you feel unsafe. So it’s fine.

“Sukuna, come closer.” You pull him down until you’re chest to chest.

“What now?” His voice is strained.

“Honestly…I trust you..It’s ok with me if you want to go rougher a bit. If anything happens, you’ll buy me a Plan B, right?”

His eye twitches.

Sukuna says nothing and pulls your thighs up higher and wider, hooking them over his elbows.

“Wah-?!” You cry out when he suddenly bites down on your shoulder and start to move. Except he’s not thrusting with a building momentum, he went full throttle from the start! Your hands cling onto his back, feeling like you’re going to pass out from the heat inside your underwear. His cock is pushing against the fabric with every rut, and it’s getting completely soaked and sticky.

“F-fuck-” It feels so intense that you have to bite his shoulder to keep quiet when you cum the second time. Going into overstimulation, you sob and drool all over his shoulder, the ceiling on top of you is blurry and splitting into four from how fast Sukuna is rutting. He was serious about being celibate!

One harsh pull of his hair makes him release your shoulder to face you. You think you’re going to cum a third time from the look on his face. Sukuna’s hair is sticking up everywhere, and he’s drooling, his eyes are barely open. Completely lost in the pleasure and about to cum so hard. He drops his forehead right down at yours and moans right into your face. The volume catches you so off guard that you clamp your hand over his mouth.

His eyes roll back, hips stuttering with his thrusts. Pulling off your hand, he intertwines it with his own and pushes it down together at your lower stomach, where his cock is peeking out the hem of your panties and rubbing over your clit. There’s a sudden pressure on your stomach, and it feels like you’re going to pee. It feels like something is going to explode, so you whine as loud as you can to stop it.

“I-I feel like m gonna pee!”

“Its squirt."

He press down harder and you scream.

“You feel that pressure? It’s gonna feel so fu-fucking good. You’ll cum so hard, so hard. Trust me. Trust me. F-fuck-” His grip on your hand binds tighter until you feel your wrist bones about to snap, or a violent your orgasm is about to snap. Sukuna thrusts once, twice, and the last final time into your underwear and you both cum at the same time. His semen shoot into your underwear, and your fluids spray out in small squirts."

“There we go- Haha, fuck- You just squirted, wasn’t that nice?” Panting heavily, he rubs your stomach in circles, trying to get you down from the high. You look properly embarrassed, rambling about thinking you peed on him. Is it gross that he wouldn’t mind? Irregardless, squirt has some pee in it.

“Stop, I’m so embarrassed, I’m so embarrassed.” Turning your face away, you whimper. Amused, Sukuna turns your head back to kiss your nose, you nuzzle his face to silently beg for more affection. He gives in and lies beside you, encircling his arms around you and pulling you towards his chest. You do the same and hug his neck. You really like hugging his neck. Or you just really like your boyfriend so you like hugging the place closest to his handsome face.

“I like you so mach. Very mach.” You bite his cheek and he goes ow with a flat tone.

“I like you very much as well.” He dazily grins like cupid had shot him right in the heart.

“…”

“…”

“You know, it’s really impressive that you squirted so quickly.”

“Stop!”

“I’m serious. This is an achievement for the both of us.”

“…Should I tell Nobara about it?”

“Uh, I’d prefer you not to share our bedroom endeavours.”

“But this is so exciting! My first sex! I want to have sex with you everyday!”

“You’re sure getting ahead of yourself.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“I do. It’s just normal to feel thrilled and addicted when you first start.”

“So I’ll get bored of it eventually?”

“I’m 26 and you’re 24. The only time we will stop having crazy hot sex is when we’re dead.”

“I want to keep having hot sex.”

“Orders received.”

“If one day we split-”

“We will stay together and have crazy hot sex everyday.”

“Can I try flavoured condoms?”

“They’re not edible, but also they’re rather ineffective. Smells the same as rubber.”

“Do you have any kinks?”

“Anything involving you, sure.”

“Can you spank me next time?”

“I could spank you right now.”

You giggle and resist Sukuna’s attempt to grab your butt under your fluffy blanket. He laughs and tickles your stomach until you fall off your bed in a thud and he checks if you’re okay. You pretend your hurt your hipbone and does a pouty face, he falls right for the bait and demands to see the bruise. He leans over the edge of the bed and you catch him by surprise, pulling his neck down until he tumbles onto the floor.

“Put you over my knee I shall!”

“Woah, your dick shrunk!”

“It’s soft, stupid girl!”

“So it’s 4 inch right now?”

“I’m gonna get you, I’m really gonna get you.”

Amidst the chaos, your phone buzzes on the table.

Nobara : girl don’t open the door for him when he comes later, ok? Nobara : i have a bad feeling about this Nobara : I JUST HEARD A MOAN FROM OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR? Nobara : DID YOU WEAR PROTECTION? Nobara : GIRL?

Unbeknownst to you, there is a unspoken “girl code” you require to know to have the honour to join friend groups. Snapchat, a finsta, or oversharing about their latest woes with their puppy love boyfriends. It’s like an ‘open sesame!’ password you gotta know, but you only know your ABCs.

You didn’t have anything much interesting going on, to be frank. Not even your grades were exceptional. Faded and forgotten, you were often regarded as a background character you read from your romance books that you grow discreet with reading as you age.

If your life was a movie, it’d be a rather anticlimatic. On par with a dead person’s heartbeat. No rising action, no climax, just a flat immovable line.

But that was fine. You didn’t sulk over being average, nor did you not try your best to fit more into the norm. You had a few friends. Online friends you made from video games, and all the hobbies you started on the way growing up.

Nobara is your best friend ever since high school. The both of you had applied for the same college, but different courses. The campus was vast enough to included pre-med and various other courses as well.

You went into graphic design. Being somewhat of a borderline loner gets you all in your head all the time, imagining designs and all colourful trinkets that you could possibly craft, and transform it into a career path. Cliche, laugh it up.

But…designing wasn’t the only thing on your mind, of course.

A hormonal teenage girl can never just be thinking about inanimate objects, of course.

24 years of your life, you’ve been fawning over the idea of having a boyfriend.

When you were 13, you wanted a bookworm, nerd boyfriend. Harry Potter was your favourite.

When you turned 16, you wanted a dashing, biker boyfriend that swept you off your feet. “Vroom vroom, get on my bike and skip class with me! Oh look I have a leather jacket too! Won’t you swoon for me baby?”

When you turned 20, you craved someone that could understand you. Someone who could teach you how to do complex equations, someone who could fix your bike after it breaks down. Hold your hand during roller coaster rides.

But as the years passed, you never got the so called “teenage heartbreak”. No boy ever liked you in high school, you thirdwheeled Nobara and her then boyfriend to prom. There wasn’t a promised prophecy of “When you’re 19 you’ll meet a boy that’s gonna break your heart!”. There wasn’t anything, actually. By the time you blew out your birthday candles for being good ol’ 24, you think it’s pretty much over, like there was an expiry date to use certain vouchers.

“Girl we gotta go NOW.”

Thankfully, you still had Nobara.

“My bad! Let’s go let’s go!” Frantically tying your shoelace, you stand up and knock your boots against the door twice to fasten it, before rushing to catch up with Nobara , who’s thumb is jamming down on the button inside the lift.

Slapping your foot down and running up the corridor, you clumsily dart into the elevator, nodding at Nobara to close the lift door. Your feet wobble and—

A big, warm hand with black painted fingernails pushes you upright swiftly by your shoulder before you trip. You whip your head behind you, only to be met with a wall of gray. Craning your neck higher as if to scale a skyscraper, it’s Sukuna.

Ryomen Sukuna, vice captain of the rugby team on campus. He lives on the men’s dorm, which is floor 3 and 4. You don’t know much about him other than his outward appearance.

From anyone’s height, Sukuna looks intimidating as hell. With his oversized gray hoodie hanging over his broad frame, and a pair of wired earphones going with it, the signals he transmitting is completely unfriendly and closed off, despite him just assisting you earlier.

The silver of his dogtag reflects the elevator and blinds you momentarily, he quirks a pierced brow down at you. The runic-like tattoos on his face scare you as much as you find it attractive, so you awkwardly pass a thanking nod at him like a thief caught red-handed and turn back to Nobara, who’s giving you a side eye for your tiny embarrassing moment.

“Oops.” You bare your teeth downwards at her, feeling rather silly yourself.

— —-

Classes go by in a blur.

Carrying a stack of papers in one arm and your tote bag in another, you feel a subtle vibration in the back pocket of your jeans. Snaking and fumbling around to fish your phone out from your pocket, it lights up with a notification from Nobara.

Nobara : my prof is taking 4ver to conclude the class, go ahead without me :( Nobara : btw idh class tmr morn, so lets go out n have lunch ?

You put your papers down at the nearest bench and start typing away with a smile on your face, pink tongue slightly sticking out.

You : ya okk! You : ur prof always pulls this… Nobara : I KNOW. everyday in this class i wanna kms Nobara : i’ll see u tmr girl

Clumsily gathering all your things with you, you head to the shuttle bus to head back to your dorm.

It’s a bummer that Nobara often has to bail out on you for her classes and emergencies, but at the very least, you get to game tonight! Whenever Nobara is not free, you would head back to your dorm early and get on your favourite online game.

Also talk to your second most favourite person after Nobara— “cursedguy444”

Biting down your lip in giddiness, you pull up your steam chat. The bus shakes a little and your thumb presses down on a silly in game sticker.

cursedguy07 : hello sweetheart

Just talking to him makes your cheek flush, resisting the urge to giggle like a maniac in the corner of the bus.

sleepyGirl_04 : dont call me that im kinda shy… cursedguy07 : but you are sweet tho

You kick your feet slightly under your seat. Godsake, you’re 24…

sleepyGirl_04 : 😵‍💫 sleepyGirl_04 : um anyways sleepyGirl_04 : wanna go 1 round?

Smiling to yourself, you lean on the bus window, biting your lip and humming a little to the adverstisement music on the shuttle bus. More people get on the bus as it stops every station, but you’re stuck in your little bubble with him.

cursedguy07 : 1 round of u? cursedguy07 : haha

You quickly angle your phone towards yourself so the elderly woman beside you doesn’t see his suggestive text.

sleepyGirl_04 : STOP IM ON THE BUS  cursedguy07 : on your way back from class? sleepyGirl_04 : i’ve been really busy w class these days. i missed u.. cursedguy07 : yeah dont worry bout it. been caught up with my training too. cursedguy07 : how bout a round of the game and one round of u👍 sleepyGirl_04 : stop did u rly just thumbs up cursedguy07 : i did, so? cursedguy07 : you don’t want to sext?

The old lady besides you cough and you flinch, your phone jumping in your hands like freshly-caught fish before you hastily catch it back with a few keyboard smashes.

sleepyGirl_04 : cdsjv jds vjebv e cursedguy07 : ? sleepyGirl_04 : TYPO sleepyGirl_04 : also Ok fine i do.. i do…im shy ok like you can’t always just say it like tgat… cursedguy07 : “tgat” sleepyGirl_04 : STOP cursedguy07 : we literally always sext, idk why you always act like it’s the first time sleepyGirl_04 : it’s called being embarassed and prudish cursedguy07 : you? prudish? got a chuckle out of me sleepyGirl_04 : die

After a good 20 minutes, you finally arrive back at your dorm. Rushing towards the lobby to head for the lift, you notice Sukuna heading for it too. He gestures silently for you to go first. Gentleman.

Thing about Sukuna—he looks like an asshole, is not an asshole.

Nodding oafishly, you head into the lift with Sukuna. Pressing on buttons 2 and 4, you head up. Cranky elevator, great jazz music . There’s a slightly sweaty smell of musk that you’re 200% sure it comes from the man behind you, but you don’t comment on it. Too hasty to get home.

The lift dings at the second floor and you whisper a small thanks at Sukuna when he holds the door open for you. Hurriedly running to your door, you take off your shoes, socks, unlocking your door with your key jingles echoing down the hallway.

Greeted by the familiar sight of your living room, you place down your bags and hang your coat, tossing your keys into it’s designated key box. A notif from discord pings u.

cursedguy07 : u there? i’m home.

“Ow! Ow!” Peering over at your phone on the table, you impatiently pull at your hair tie to let your tangled hair free, plucking a few unfortunate hair strands that are not spared by your rough handling. Your mother used to snark to you about your frequent hair-falling issues, but you’ve always got invisible earmuffs on when she starts her piece.

You try your best to type on your keyboard with your freehand, the other still pulling at your unkempt hair. Certainly you regret not brushing your hair in the morning before you left the house…

leepyGirl_04 : m home too! gib me a momendt cursedguy07 : u got home drunk or ?

You grimace, finally letting your hair free and focus on your phone. Snatching it from your table, you dive into your couch, lying comfortably on it.

sleepyGirl_04 : ws typing with 1 hand cursedguy07 : me too

A furious blush paints over your face, your legs instantly closing tightly together and rubbing against each other with rising friction. It’s been a while since you had some release. Pulling up your shirt to bare your bra to the cool air of the room, you bite down the hem of your shirt, texting him back.

sleepyGirl_04 : r u touching urself right now…? sleepyGirl_04 : y didn’t you wait for me cursedguy07 : yea m strokin my dick. cursedguy07 : is this table manners? i didn’t know i had to wait cursedguy07 : whatchu wearin? sleepyGirl_04 : ok fine smartass… sleepyGirl_04 : m wearing normal tshirt n shorts… cursedguy07 : baby ur killing me cursedguy07 : i mean underneath that sweetheart cursedguy07 : u do this everytime sleepyGirl_04 : o sorry HELP sleepyGirl_04 : ok um white sports bra and black cotton panties.. cursedguy07 : always the same shit sleepyGirl_04 : ik its not sexy… cursedguy07 : did i say that? cursedguy07 : my boner sure thinks it’s sexy

It really makes you warm and endeared that he never cares about how awkward you are. Makes you so giddy. Like you have candy in your mouth and it’s sticking to your teeth.

cursedguy07 : if i was there i’d fuck your panties sleepyGirl_04 : u said this last time too… sleepyGirl_04 : one trick pony

You snicker.

cursedguy07 : and i meant it both times, so now what? cursedguy07 : and you got wet both times, guess the trick never got old

Whining and feeling yourself getting hot and bothered, your fingers absentmindedly slip under your shorts, lightly ghosting them over your clothed clit. You jolt when you touch a spot that feels good.

sleepyGirl_04 : wtv sleepyGirl_04 : im rly sensitive rn cursedguy07 : yea? pinch your clit sleepyGirl_04 : i m cursedguy07 : do it harder cursedguy07 : u always slack off sleepyGirl_04 : no i dont cursedguy07 : yes u do. always complain you can’t cum when i don’t tell u to cursedguy07 : fuck. wna tap my dick over your clit and watch you squirm cursedguy07 : shit my dick is leaking so much

Panting with ragged breaths, you circle your clit faster over your underwear, feeling your pussy getting warm and sticky. The wetness was dripping down towards your ass, and you whimper when your fingers glide over it to feel the slimy fluid coat your fingers.

sleepyGirl_04 : stop sleepyGirl_04 : i wish u were here to rub my clit sleepyGirl_04 : im so horny i want to cum cursedguy07 : yea cursedguy07 : if i was there i’d suck your clit until you cry cursedguy07 : lick u all over

Reading his text, you loudly moan into the space of your living room, rubbing yourself faster and faster until your hand is a blur in your shorts. Imagining a big silhouette of a man hovering over you, hands groping your tits and eating your pussy like a starved man.

cursedguy07 : ur pussy will overstimulate and squirt when im done w u cursedguy07 : fuck m gonna bust cursedguy07 : wanna fill ur pussy up with my cum fuck

“A-Ahnng-” Your body bows and tenses, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw falls open with drool. You come hard and slow, the high lasting so long that you’re shaking and trembling, whining with choked noises.

cursedguy07 : i’d fuck u so good

Your hand still keep rubbing over your soaked panties, stuttering and cramping with its movement from how rough you were being. Hips bucking one last time, you slump back into your couch, sweat glistening on your forehead.

sleepyGirl_04 : i came so hard cursedguy07 : yeah? ur fingers all sticky huh sleepyGirl_04 : stop wtv cursedguy07 : u always get shy afterwards sleepyGirl_04 : havent you heard of post-nut clarity cursedguy07 : sure sleepyGirl_04 : udh post nut clarity? cursedguy07 : there’s no reason for me to regret cumming hard to the thought of you

Bah, he’s so sly with his words it makes you feel like a stupid girl falling for a con artist sometimes. The post orgasm bliss washes over you, still lying there and smiling at your ceiling.

cursedguy07 : i’ll shower then we play cursedguy07 : wait for me sweetheart

Yes, it’s peculiar. Talking to a stranger on the internet and sexting each other time to time. Over the past 5 months of getting to know each other, perhaps it was inevitable to have sexual tension when late night gaming turns into sexual conversations.

The both of you have a silent agreement on not revealing yourselves and send pictures, keeping the anonymity and also the thrill of being a mystery intact.

He’s not…really a boyfriend. Is he?

You don’t count him as one either ways.

Are you e-dating? Uh…Probably? Probably not? You grimace at the aspect that Nobara might be right about discord-dating being cringe. Alas, you’re cringe and you’re free.

Quickly cleaning yourself up with a shower as well, you head to your bedroom and get on the game. You and him met on Outlast Trials. It’s silly, but you were really attracted to how direct he was trying to solve the puzzles in the game. He always gave instructions and beat the rounds fast. And god, his voice…

You accept the game invite.

“Hm. Hey.” Over your headphones, he clears his throat, a raspy sleepy voice comes through. You giddily cross your feet.

“Helloo. Hehe.” Speaking sheepishly into your mic, you smile, adjusting your keyboard so it’s positioned the way you like it. “Did you have a good shower?”

“Huh.” He chuckles over the line, “Very like you to ask me how I showered. It was fine. Then I thought of you. Jerked off again.”

“Yeeee pervert…” You comedically make a goofy imitation of his deep baritone voice, hiding how flustered you are. He laughs and clicks his tongue in exasperation over the line.

“Tsk tsk. You like it.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. Bet you came really hard, all shaking and needy.”

“Ok anyways,” You quickly change the topic before your cheeks turn the same shade of red as your sleep shirt. “Let’s queue.”

The both of you hop onto Outlast Trials, getting the orphanage map. The mission objective for this map is easier for you than the other maps, so you crack your knuckles in excitement, waiting for him to connect in as well.

The game starts and you both head for the mission.

“Say, you never told me what sports you play,” you perk up a curious question, clicking on your mouse, “Earlier you said you’ve been busy with training?”

“Hm. Yeah. I play rugby for my college team.”

This should have alerted you, but you don’t realize it, focused on the game.

“Ohh yeah! My college has a rugby team too. I don’t know much about it though.”

“Ha, maybe we’ll go against each other. I’ll win though, sorry in advance.” He smugly states, and you can see in your minds eye how his smirk would look like, despite the lack of imagery.

“Wowwww we got Mr. Smug3000 here.” you jest.

“Shit, come revive me.” Knocked down by the enemy in the game, his character crawls weakly on the ground. “And yeah, can’t blame me. My team ran up to the semifinals last year so. We gonna climb to the top this year.” A ruffle sound over the in-game voice call, probably running his hand through his hair.

“Hmm…” You hum in acknowledgement, busy on the game.

“Ahem,” He clears his throat. “You wanna come to my match this thursday?”

“Oh what, like face to face? Haha.” Nervously laughing, you blink at your screen, hoping he’s just joking.

“Yeah, face to face.”

Everything in you stills like a deer in the headlights. You should play dumb.

“Wait come help me with the nuns-”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

The sudden sternness of his voice makes you sweat internally, unsure how to respond to his demand. A cold chill washes over your chest, your clammy hands freezing up on your mouse. Insecure and awkward as you are, there was no way you were going to meet this guy face to face. This is all gradually getting too real.

“Baby we’ve been talking for months. Unless you’re a guy using a voice changer, I don’t see why we shouldn’t meet in real life.”

“I just,” you hesitate, biting your inner cheek in contemplation, “I just don’t think it’s nescessary.”

“Necessary? Am I just some voice fantasy for you? We don’t even send pictures to each other. Fuck, the most we’ve done is sext.” He sounds frustrated over the line, his character in the game not moving. He’s away from the keyboard.

“I wanna see you for real.” He adds.

“Don’t you wanna meet me?” It almost sounds like a plea when he says it.

“Uhhh…” You swallow hard.

Racking your brain hard for an answer, you panic when it comes out blank. Doesn’t he know stranger danger? Isn’t the whole point of anonymous sexting online, anonymous? To get away from the humiliation of being known publicly? Is he too, not an insecure guy who’s talking to a stranger online to fill his otherwise lonely social life?

For you, being online was your escape. Playing video games was your escape. You didn’t think you were gonna meet some guy in Outlast Trials out of all place and…and fool around with him. The fact that you even met him on such a small game was already an absurd thrill, but you’ve never meant for it to go this far.

You didn’t want to be a catfish either; It was too much hassle to constantly edit pictures back and forth. So you thought, it was going to be this way forever. Playing games together, talk about random topics, and sometimes indulge yourselves in sexual conversations. Faceless, no identity, even though you’re sure he knows a lot of details about you, as much as you know about him.

Literally why does he wants to meet? The pressure is intense. You don’t necessarily think he’s some kind of creepy old man behind the screen, but at the same time, you don’t want your fantasy to be shattered. The illusion of “cursedguy_07” that you’ve made in your mind was already ingrained into you. Meeting up would completely reverse that sort of delusion that you’ve subject yourself to, much to your selfish desires.

The version of “cursedguy07” you have created in your mind, is much more valueable than the real thing for you. Fucked up to say, aware enough to admit.

What if he’s not your type? What if you’re not his type? This would all be over in seconds.

Plus, the both of you have not discussed or labeled your relationship at all. Who are you gonna show up as? His online friend that he occassionally indulges with sexting?! So ridiculous…

“I… I don’t know. What if like…I don’t know. What if we, you know, don’t find each other attractive?” your meek reply earns a brief silence, you’re afraid you’ve said something to offend him.

“I don’t care how you look. Do you care how I look?” The game is long forgotten.

“I-I mean no no, I’m not that judgemental. But, physical chemistry is a thing, you know what I mean?” You try to salvage things, but you don’t even sound confident in your own words. You hate angering people, confrontations is something you try your hardest to avoid.

Even back in high school, whenever people would comment something rather unpleasant about you, you don’t stand up for yourself. The moment will pass. But resentment will build and gradually fester into something ugly if you had started right into an explosive argument right there and then.

“We should try at least.” He urges, “I’ll send you a pic, you send me one back.”

What?!

Growing up, you seldom take selfies. In group photos, a hand peace sign is what you use to cover your face. Your mother used to pry your hands apart just to stop you from playing hide and seek with the camera. Sending a picture to the guy you like? No chance.

“Ok no, that’s just- No. I’m not ready…” The game auto-exits to the lobby, leaving you and your “internet fuck buddy” alone in the call with no game to interrupt you.

“Fine, you don’t have to. But I will. I’m tired of this.” The sound of him leaving the game lobby and ending the in-game voice call beeps.

cursedguy07 : *sent a photo*

The sudden burst of adrenaline that rushes through your blood makes your veins pump erratically. Holy shit. He really just sent a photo of himself. You hesitate before you click on the notification.

“Oh my god.”

The photo that graces your screen is a picture of his bulky abs, the hem of his shirt pulled up by a veiny hand. But you’re not focused on the shirtless thirst trap picture at all. You’re not even aroused. You’re focused on the extremely familiar runic tattoos that run across his chest down to his abdomen.

Fumbling with the apps, you dive into instagram.

Search bar.

“malevolentsteam_u”

Your thumb pulls up, click on the line up listing post.

You swipe.

"Ryomen Sukuna, vice-captain of the Malevolents.”

A loud silence swallows up your room.

cursedguy07 : this is all yours if we meet.

Instantly , you slam your phone down onto your lap, hurling up your legs up your seat and bury your face into your knees, palm covering your overheating face. Heart palpitations instantly start up despite the fact that you didn’t have anything caffeinated today.

Rubbing your eyes in profusely in harsh circles, you try to come down from your panic to realize that you’ve been sexting the guy that lives in the same fucking building, two floors above you. You’ve been sexting that hot guy on the rugby team that’s everyone wishes to violently bang. You’ve been sexting a guy that you see everyday at the fucking elevator!

This is practically the worst possible outcome! You see him everyday, you know him! It’s a relief he has no idea who you are, but you feel as if on the verge of tears imagining him finding out that you’re not who his own delusion has imagined to be. Maybe he’d block you. Hate you.

cursedguy07 : are u still shy? cursedguy07 : look, i’m a real person. my real name is ryomen. cursedguy07 : you can search me up on the Malevolents team instagram cursedguy07 : you’ll see my face

“Oh my god just stop fucking texting me!” All the panic in you is making you sway back and forth, leg bouncing, ending up on your bed with your face smothered in your pillow in an attempt to wash away this memory.

There is absolutely no way in hell you’re meeting Ryomen Sukuna in person. No fucking way. This is genuinely your worst nightmare.

First of all, there is no way a guy like him isn’t expecting a cute kitten e-girl behind the screen. You’re an awkward, mundane girl with not much going on for herself, this is a match made in hell. Second of all, you have not mentally prepared yourself for the prospect that you would meet your internet-sext-buddy in real life!

Lastly, why the fuck is a guy like Sukuna always free to play games and sext with you at night! Doesn’t he have parties?! Training?! What is going on! Why the hell is Ryomen Sukuna sexting with someone on discord!

Fuck, why do you even have him on a pedestal?

For the sake of your remaining sanity, you leave Sukuna on seen and cover yourself up with your fluffy blanket.

“This is probably just a nightmare and I legit just haven’t woken up. Trust it’s gonna be over.”

— —-

cursedguy07 : sweetheart, are u ghostin me? cursedguy07 : i apologize for sending you an unsolicited pic

Ignoring your phone buzzing in your pocket, you tie your shoelace, loosening your shoulders to head out. The smile on your face is forced and anxious when you greet the next door lady good morning. Like the Smile movie you watched last week.

cursedguy07 : is there any way for me to fix this?

Pressing on the down button for the lift, you grimace down at your phone, taking it out your pocket. What do you even say to Sukuna? You don’t wanna send a pic back, but you don’t want to continue to lead him on more.

Like a sick joke, the lift opens the door and it greets you with none other than Sukuna. Stiffening, your eyes scan over him.

Still with his gray hoodie, he’s carrying a gym duffel bag, and no headphones this time. On his right hand, he’s gripping his phone tightly. His pierce brow quirks, but this time, he looks especially…bothered. Different from his usual nonchalance.

“U gonna just stand there all day or come in the lift? I’m in a rush here.” Sukuna barks, causing you to flinch.

This is the first time he has ever spoken to you, and the dread builds. His voice matches. He really is cursedguy07.

Nodding in fear and awkwardness, you rush into the lift and press for the lobby. You cannot afford to speak and for him to recognize your voice. The air feels tense and suffocating all of the sudden, you’re hyper-aware of Sukuna that’s standing literally right behind you, typing on his phone loudly. Holding your breath as if you’re underwater, you listen.

He’s the type of guy who has his ringer on all the time.

He types, then he deletes. Types, and then deletes.

It feels like you’re stuck in a fucking horror movie when your phone vibrates quietly in your pocket, and you’d rather die than check it with him in the lift. Thank god you silent your ringer before you left.

“Fuck.” Behind you, Sukuna whispers solemnly in the air. You hate that it sounds just as sultry as he sounds on the late night calls you share.

The elevator door opens and you step out of the way to let Sukuna pass you and head out first. His tall, burly frame briefly passes before your eyes, jaw muscle ticking, gripping the grip of his duffel bag like he’s releasing tension. He’s striding down towards the community gym really fast. Like, three of your steps to his one stride.

You pull out your phone to check.

cursedguy07 : look, i don’t know what i did wrong(aside from the picture), but is it really that bad to the extent of you refusing to speak to me? cursedguy07 : usually you’d tell me you’re busy before you go offline. cursedguy07 : does my body repulse you so?

Shit!

You scramble to open his chat.

sleepyGirl_04 : woah woah woah nonoononono sleepyGirl_04 : your body is fine sleepyGirl_04 : you’re just like rly hot sleepyGirl_04 : idk how to talk to you anymore sleepyGirl_04 : u look like ai cursedguy07 : ? cursedguy07 : you say the strangest things cursedguy07 : i cannot keep up with the speed of your brain cursedguy07 : this is the very first time where a woman has stopped speaking to me bc im “too hot”. cursedguy07 : does that mean you’re gna stop talking to me ?

A text notif pings on your screen above your chat.

Nobara : girl where the hell r u Nobara : yk we still got lunch right

There is literally so much on your plate right now you think you’re going to explode.

sleepyGirl_04 : wait i’ll reply u ltr cursedguy07 : when is later?

You switch to Nobara’s chat.

You : girl m coming i couldnt find my key this morn Nobara : i’m gna slap u when u get here You : wait dont slap me i hv tea to tell u

You switch to Sukuna’s chat.

sleepyGirl_04 : um ltr cuz im going to see my friend rn cursedguy07 : can we address this first?

You switch to Nobara’s chat.

Nobara : girl u piss me off GET HERE NOW

Pocketing your phone, you pratically sprint out the lobby towards the street, casting a lingering glance at the gym entrance.

cursedguy07 : have fun sweetheart. i guess?

— —

“Next time, I’m gonna shove my stethoscope up your ass.”

“Please don’t.” You sweat with a pleading smile, brows furrowed tightly together. Nobara sips on her already finished milkshake, sucking on the straw until it makes a bubbly noise.

“Spill on what you were gonna tell me.” Nobara grumbles, cocking her head to the side expectantly.

Putting your bag down on the floor, you reach for the menu on the table. Stomach has been growling since you walked in. You order your meal—a beef bolognese rigatoni, before you continue.

“Ok so like, remember my internet online friend?”

“The one you kinda have a crush on? What was it? Cursed dude 4 or something?”

“It’s cursedguy07” You correct her, putting a finger up to imitate a nerd face.

“Don’t play semantics with me.” Nobara rolls her eyes, and you cheekily grin.

“Right so…” You paused, drumming your knuckles on the table, eyes focused on the cafe menu.

“He may or may not wants to meet up with me, and also sent me a picture of himself.” You look up at Nobara, who’s jaw is agape.

“So was I right? He’s a creepy old man?” Nobara excitedly points.

“No! God! I hate you!” You hush-scowl at her, making a few of the other patreons at the cafe turn to look at the commotion. It’s the same feeling as your mother being excited to tell you ‘I told you so.’ Aggravating, yes.

“He’s…I think you should see it for yourself.” Meekly, you take out your phone, and shoves the shirtless picture of Sukuna at Nobara’s face. She immediately recoils and squints her eyes.

“Girl I don’t wanna see a thirst…Wait.”

Nobara’s eyes widen, and she snatches your phone to look closer.

“Is that…?” She looks up from your phone, and you stammer a nod.

She looks down at the phone, then up at you again.

“You’ve been e-fucking Ryomen Sukuna?!” Nobara loudly yelps.

“Shh! Keep it down!” Your hand shoots out to cover Nobara’s mouth to muffle her noise, which she resists. The both of you look properly insane.

“Girl, that’s a big fish you got there, my god.” Dramatically covering her mouth with a manicured hand, she exclaims.

“Fish? It’s the entire pond! What am I gonna do”

“Obviously fuck him?” Nobara makes a flippant hand gesture, circling her finger around your face.

“Stop, really?” You bite your lip, “I’ve been thinking about deactivating my account and forget about him.”

“Girl no.” Nobara rolls her eyes again, “not fuck HIM. im saying FUCK HIM.” She does a lewd gesture of her finger thrusting into her hand that’s shaped into a makeshift tunnel. You quickly smack her hand down with lightning reflexes. Have some decorum!

“Stop it! Stop it!” You scold in panic, curling your nose, while Nobara snorts.

Your food arrives and Nobara shrugs and drops the topic, changing it to talk about her horrid nightmare of a clinical exam coming up soon. Despite paying attention to Nobara, the knot in your chest builds. Toeing the line between coming clean to Sukuna about who you are behind the screen and avoiding him forever by unadding him on social media platforms, you realize you have to make a decisive decision soon.

Or you could just. Not do anything about it. Maybe.

Now that you know “cursedguy07” is fucking hot, it literally goes beyond your fantasies now. Will you shatter his fantasy when you meet?

“You know what I think,” Nobara chews with her mouth wiped clean with a tissue, missing a cheeky crumb at the corner as she speaks, “I think you should send a picture back. Doesn’t have to have your face in it. Just be a tease.”

You try your hardest to not blush at the idea of taking suggestive photos for Sukuna’s viewing pleasure, but the very idea him of getting a painful boner and frustrated over an amateurly-taken photo of your body is way too exciting to be shot down. Crumbling a man down to a horny mess would be a massive ego boost to your already insecure self. Stabbing your fork into the last pieces of rigatoni in your bow, you bite the steel utensil and nod in contemplation.

— —-

“You coming?”

“Gimme a sec’.”

Patting down the sweatdrops around his nape, Sukuna finds himself zoning out at the gym floor, staring at it with a blank slate of a mind, as if it was going to grow a head out from the surface. The light reflections from the overhead lighting in the gym bounces on the floor, then onto his face. He blinks hard.

Shuffling to retrieve his phone from his duffel bag placed beside him on the bench, he turns on his phone to see his mundane wallpaper, no notifications from his favourite girl.

Technically not his, but well, not yet. Hoping to be.

See, Sukuna was never one to believe in a fantasical romance scenario that’s along the lines of a children’s book. When he hopped on the game a few months back, that particularly Sunday, he wasn’t expecting to meet a girl that he would end up thinking about almost daily.

Come on. Online dating? Do you know how many scammers are there? The voice changers?

Sukuna deemed it below him to succumb to this. It couldn’t be this easy to be infatuated with a random stranger across the country just from their pretentious personality that they use as a front online. Looking at her profile picture of a goofy cat, he has to chew and swallow on his own words, acid reflux be damned.

Sighing with a heavy chest, he stuffs his shoes and dirty laundry in his bag like a immature child who just got lectured, and heads out to join Toji. Stubborn steps bring him a good distance away from Toji, burning a hole into the back of his head while he overthinks.

Looking to his right, there’s footballers on the field fooling around after practice like naughty kids on christmas. Sukuna wonders if one of them would trip over each other and sprain their ankle. He wasn’t one to constantly wish the worst on others, but hell was it not funny to see someone shit-faced with a pile of mud after a heavy rain. He reckons his foul mood is largely linked to that infuriating girl that’s stop replying him, but he tries to imagine the Buddha. No attachments. No attachments. Sukuna never had good imagination.

Looking to his left are the cheerleaders practicing. A few girls were already looking his way before he turned. Locking eyes with who he assumes to be the “ring leader” of their circle, she blows him an air kiss, which he dodges it by leaning backwards with an unamused expression. A quiet smirk pulls on the corner of his lips when a burst of boisterous laughter trails behind him as he keeps walking without looking back.

Sukuna wasn’t interested in any other girl other than the one trapped in his phone. He knew it was silly to act “tied down” before even meeting her, but it wasn’t like he had his eyes on anyone prior to her appearance in his life.

Rubbing his temple, Sukuna dryly laughs at himself and the ridiculous predicament hes caught himself in. He’s loyal to a girl who refuses to meet him. Putting on a circus show for no audience.

WInding up his arm like a cat getting ready to pounce on it’s target, Sukuna smacks Toji on his back, chuckling when he curses loudly at him. Ducking and dodging at Toji’s vengeful hits, Sukuna sprints to secure a seat at the cafeteria, laughing boyishly like a prebuscent farmer boy in the meadows.

A blur of blue and he crashes into it.

“Fuck I’m sorry,” Immediately Sukuna looks down at the poor student who had to suffer the weight of crashing into a stone wall like him. It’s a girl with a blue shirt. He curls his spine to grab her by her upper arm, yanking her upright, unsure if it’s gentlemanly enough for him to help her up when she yelps from his manhandling. “You alright?”

The girl briefly raises her head to meet his eyes, and then, in the most cartoonish way possible, she shakes her head and dash past him. Sukuna recognizes her from the dorm lift this morning. She’s from the same dorm then. What the fuck was that even about?

“Oh so you’re bullying girls too now?” Toji catches up with him and slaps him back on the shoulder, both men has their eyes tracking the girl clutching her bag escaping the scene. Toji turns to look back at Sukuna and quirks his brow, and Sukuna shrugs him off with a scoff, heading for the queue at the cafeteria.

“Bumped into her and she acted like I was some ghost.” Sukuna picks up 2 grilled mackarels onto his tray, stuffing them to the side on the compact tray.

“Yeah cuz you’re heavy as fuck.” Toji nudges his elbow at Sukuna and earns a mean growl from him, protecting his tray of mackerels and heap of white rice from Toji’s playful teasing. He almost steals Sukuna’s fish and he snarls at him again like a tiger baring its fangs.

“How’s that sleepy girl though?”

“Fuck don’t bring her up.” Veins pop at Sukuna’s temple the moment Toji asks about his little internet fling, handing cash to the cashier with a frown before walking off with his tray. Toji always had this habit of bringing up miserable memories when they shared meals so Sukuna would lose his apetite and hands him his leftovers. Sukuna suspected Toji was doing this because he wanted another set of free lunch, but damn was it working.

“Why? Ya fucked it up?”

“Would you shut up"?”

“So you did then."

Sukuna scrunches his nose and scratches his head aggressively like a dog shaking off wet fur, hands pulling at his salmon-coloured hair before sighing down at his plate in resignation.

“I sent her a picture of me and she got scared.”

Toji bursts into laughter at Sukuna’s quiet confession, rice splattering out from his mouth like a water sprinkler and lands on the table and Sukuna’s plate.

“Fuck you’re so unhygienic!”

“She-! Hah! she got- scared-” Slamming his fists down repeatedly on the table, Toji’s boisterous laughter was gathering too much attention from the other students, ignoring their attempts to shush him. Unfortunately, Toji wasn’t the type to feel shame in a public setting, throwing his head back and forth, chest puffing up with uncontrollable gasps to ease his laughter. Sukuna’s ears were red with anger, or embarassment, he did not know. One thing he knew was he had to get back at Toji.

“And what about your hopeless crush on that marine girl huh? Cherry, was it? ”

Toji instantly stops laughing, kicking Sukuna’s shin under the table and makes him yelp profanities.

“Shut the fuck up! She does marine biology!”

“Yeah whatever. Last time you tried to pretend you know fuck all about some fish and she corrected you with a side eye.”

“Fuck you I hope your e-girl is fucking someone else!”

“You better fuck yourself because you sure aren’t getting that fish girl soon!”

The students near the proximity of Sukuna and Toji’s table starts to decrease, letting the two men engage in their petty dog fight and argue about their romantic woes. It wasn’t until a professor came over to lecture them about volume only did they grumble and scarf their food down their throats. Both men left the cafeteria with a sore throat and a sore ego.

Much to Sukuna’s chagrin, he has a prolonged practice match today because he has to guide the juniors on improving their form and cooperation. One thing Sukuna absolutely hates is to be responsible for others. Sukuna didn’t even have the capacity to take care of a pet, even though he was fond of the furry animals. Bossing people around? Sure. Checking up on people and then try to ameliorate their situation? Not so much.

Only ‘sleepygirl04’ has elevated his level of empathy, but even Sukuna himself is unsure of if he’s able to really back up his claim of taking care of her if they truly met.

One thing he’s absolutely sure is that he does like the girl. He knows that he’d be great at taking care of her in bed. But being a boyfriend? Sukuna hardly knows the outline of being one. Other than the classic dates, flowers and sweet nothings, he finds himself drawing up a blank when it comes to uncomfortable conversations. Eventually, he’ll have to open up about his personal vendettas with his family and his past to her, but that’s something he’ll have to figure it out when he gets there. It’s the same as climbing a mountain without ever seeing the peak. You just have to figure it out when you get there.

Inspecting the little string of cotton thread that broke out from the fine lining of his jersey, he clicks his tongue, thumb brushing over the slightly grey and faded letters of his name “Ryo”. Fuck, should have handwashed it. Let it tumble in the laundry machine too often. Kissing his teeth, Sukuna quickly grabs a dry towel and runs the cloth over his wet hair, water dripping down his torso as he does. With a cat-like stretch and a groan, he loops his jersey over his head and heads out his dorm to the field.

Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, the elevator door opens to that girl again. That girl he bumped into this afternoon. She squeaks animatedly like a scared country mouse and side steps to let him in. It’s grating on his nerves now. Why the fuck is she so scared of him for? The way her eyes are looking away at the side of the elevator is as if he would eat her alive for even making eye contact. Sukuna wasn’t used to girls being outright spooked by him. Charmed, yes. Attracted to him, yes. Acting as if they’d die if they met his eyes? No.

“Ahem,” Loosening his shoulders, Sukuna spares the girl a glance, before caving in with a furrow of his brow. “I’m sorry about bumping into you this afternoon. It was my fault, I wasn’t looking.”

The girl doesn’t dare to look up at him, which irks him even more. Can’t even accept an apology?

“Uhm, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Meek, with a terribly pitched voice, the girl responds, catching his reflection in the metallic.

“You got a sore throat?“ He speaks like it pained him to throw out the casual jest.

“Uh no…”

“You speak a little funny.”

The girl immediately spins around, brows knitted and a frown on her face. It reminded Sukuna of his little brother Itadori when Sukuna would finish the yoghurt that the little boy had saved up before going to school. He’d get mad and pouty, use those stubby fingers of his to poke at him and whine. That kid was hella strong with his fists though, he never pulls his punches.

“I don’t have a sore throat, it’s kind of rude for you to say that. I’m fine as well, I’m not going to die from getting knocked over.”

“Relax. My fault.” Sukuna raises his hands in placating surrender gesture, yet a smirk graces his face. It’s really reminding him of his brother now. The girl is shorter than him by a lot as well.

“You…let’s just move on.” She sighs.

Wait a minute.

“Let’s just move on to the next puzzle then! I’m a little lost…”

“Sure. Give me the key.”

Move on?

“You…let’s just move on.”

Standing there dumbfounded with a familiar voice haunting his head, Sukuna watches the girl step out the elevator like he seen a ghost. His heart rate spikes up, and his lips part with a kind of focus that he can’t describe.

Am I on acid or does she sounds like…?

Before the elevator allows Sukuna to drink in her appearance fully, his eyes hyperfixate on a small birthmark on the front of her elbow.

---

Thursday rolls around, so do you when you roll out of bed and land on the hard wooden floor with a thud. Sitting up with unkempt hair, your fingers scramble and search for your phone on the floor, feeling up a long charging wire and finally to your phone.

10:45 am.

cursedguy07 : hey cursedguy07 : missed you. cursedguy07 : my match starts at 12pm. i know you won’t be there but i’m thinking of you.

Smiling while biting down at your bottom lip, you sleepily bring your fingers to the keyboard. Though you’re sure that he doesn’t know who you are still, it makes you giddy that he’s still really sweet to you despite your on and off texting. Obviously, you were going to watch his match with Nobara.

sleepyGirl_04 : good luck! i know u’ll crush it doe cursedguy07 : any chance i could see you afterwards? face to face?

Groaning in frustration, you turn your head and bury it into your mattress like a little kid refusing to wake up for school. Your thighs feel awfully cold from the floor in the air conditioned room of yours. It was running all night.

You can’t see him. He’s out of your league. You close your eyes as if a criminal on the guillotine.

It’s so cold. My nips are cold.

“You know what I think”

“I think you should send a picture back. Doesn’t have to have your face in it. Just be a tease.”

Your eyes snap wide open in eureka, staring right at your chest.

Quickly climbing back up your bed, you shuffle around, adjusting your camisole and pull down the spaghetti straps to let it fall loosely around your upper arm. Pushing and kneading your bread as if a sourdough, you succeed it in getting it to look “plump”. Without a push up bra, somehow.

Raising your phone high up in the air, you pretend as if you’re in a cheap homemade porn video. Except it looks terrible. The lighting looks muddy, so you move. Then your lips looks too chapped, then you move again. Then your double chin is getting highlighted by the sunlight from your window. Allright I’m never gonna get it down. Even teasing pictures are an art form.

After flopping around your bed like a living fish on land, you finally get a good position with a decent angle. It’s awkward to pose and you’re sure it looks ridiculous from a third person’s pov, paired with the lower back pain that’s about to happen from cramping, but you snap the picture regardless.

You send it to Nobara for two factor authentication.

Nobara : u are posing like the little mermaid except she’s trying to escape quick sand. Nobara : why are your legs so straight. cross them so your thighs are more seductive. You : OK well I was just trying to focus on the boobs… Nobara : your legs are LAID OUT like a vampire in a coffin and you want me to focus on your rack??

“Why is this so fucking hard?!” Rubbing your palm over your face, your nose twists with the strength of your frustration. This was even harder than taking stiff graduation photos!

Nobara : listen to me, put one hand on your chin and pull your knees up, push them slightly to the side. do that awkward smile you always do You : omg ur so rude im not always awkward smiling on purpose Nobara : ya that’s the problem you’re naturally awkward. now get to it

Reluctantly heeding Nobara’s advice, your body moves as if a mannequin getting posed at the H&M store. Finally getting the picture, you send it to her again.

Nobara : girl yessss. this the one. Nobara : send it to him he’s gonna get a boner trust me You : you think? I feel so awkward Nobara : just send it

Holding your breath and bracing yourself as if you were preparing for a bungee jump, you click send to cursedguy07, who you now know as Sukuna. Who is living just 2 floors above you. Not crazy at all, haha.

sleepyGirl_04 : *sends an attachment* cursedguy07 : jesus fuck cursedguy07 : is this your first time sending a pic like this

Growing nervous, you scan and scrutinize over your own picture again and again, noticing the little flaws here and there now that you sent it. Even he realizes it’s amateur. Your face grows hot, wishing you could bury yourself 6 ft under for your sudden burst of false confidence for even entertaining the idea of a suggestive picture.

sleepyGirl_04 : ya… cursedguy07 : did you send this thinking it would motivate me for my match?

Fuck…

sleepyGirl_04 : um ya… sleepyGirl_04 : ok m embarrassed now idk what i was thinking sorry cursedguy07 : yeah u better be sorry cursedguy07 : im at the field trying to cover the insane boner in my shorts but i can’t stop looking at your thighs in that pic cursedguy07 : you have such fleshy thighs

Fuck.

sleepyGirl_04 : so u like it..? fleshy is weird word to use, it’s like for meat, like pork ribs… cursedguy07 : tasty, isn’t it? sleepyGirl_04 : isn't it crude to use meat to describe a woman's body cursedguy07 : way less crude than what’s going through my head right now cursedguy07 : believe me you do not want to know what im thinking about doing to you cursedguy07 : wish i could see you in person

Fuck Fuck Fuck!

cursedguy07 : and don’t send me anymore before it costs me my game

Muffling your embarassed screams into your pillow while kicking your feet, you check your phone again. You’re glad he likes it, because if it doesn’t you might have to unsend it and block him forever to save yourself. You peek at the time.

11:27 pm.

Shit, you took so long to take that tease photo!

Nobara : WHERE R U Nobara : CAN U STOP BEING LATE Nobara : i saved u a seat at the match hurry tf up omg i rly cant stand u

Throwing yourself at your drawer, you scavenge for an ironed shirt and shorts. Laundry day is usually Wednesdays and Saturday for you, so you only have crinkled shirts and some repeatedly used and worn clothes through out the week. Finally finding a long blue tee and gym shorts, you fit yourself in them, slip on your shoes, and rush out your dorm towards the field. Seeing Sukuna in action now is feels way more different, feels more…real to you? Like he’s not cursedguy07 anymore, but Sukuna. Sukuna. Like a celebrity you can casually chat about which breed of fish you like.

“Over here!”

The sound of Nobara’s raspy voice has you stopped squared in the shoulders like a deer in the headlights, turning your head 180 degrees left, and then right, attempting to make out her brown hair in a sea of other brown hairs. Jesus.

The field is completely packed with people, people sitting along the grass right outside the line of the rugby field, holding onto their water bottles and chatting away with their friends. Girls lumped together and laying on each other’s shoulders to admire the muscular players practicing, guys standing on the side with their arms crossed while they wait to backseat the game the entire time. Guys just love to point their fingers at a sport they’re not involved in.

A particular hand in the air catches your eye, then you wave back eagerly at Nobara. Stepping across wet grass, puddles and a group of giggling girls, you finally reach Nobara. Patting down your butt and your shorts, you plop yourself down comfortably next to Nobara, nuzzling into her shoulder in a fit of repeated apologies. Nobara gives a ‘hmph’ before petting down your hair and laying her head ontop of yours.

“It’s so sunny, did you bring sunscreen?”

“I did, turn to face me.”

Allowing Nobara to grab your jaw, you close your eyes like a kitten being pampered, feeling her hands swipe sunscreen all over your face down to your neck. Back when you were little, your mother would do the same, except she’d add on excessive white noise about your grades and your gaming habits.

“I wonder if he applied sunscreen too.” You mumble, fluttering your eyes open, Nobara nods at your phone while screwing back the cap of the sunscreen tube. Nodding as if you got approval, you lay back on her shoulder and take your phone out.

sleepyGirl_04: it’s really hot today, make sure to apply some sunscreen :p cursedguy07 : I did sleepyGirl_04: and be careful to not slip on the field, it rained earlier today cursedguy07 : ? sleepyGirl_04: yes? im just showing u concern dont be mean cursedguy07 : it did rained today. sleepyGirl_04: yes???

“Girl, why did you tell him it rained?” Nobara’s voice catches your attention again, moving her face closer to squint at your phone screen.

“What do you mean?” Your confused reply earns an incredulous stare from Nobara.

“Doesn’t that prove to him you’re in his city?”

Oh fuck.

cursedguy07 : how did you know the field im at is wet? cursedguy07 : i never mentioned where im having my competition at.

“I just fucked it up!” You shriek, shutting off your phone and giving Nobara a helpless stare.

“Well, cat’s out the bag.”

“Nobara!”

“Not my problem.”

cursedguy07 : you’re from my college.

“Oh my god no no no! Help me!” You shake Nobara’s arm like a ragdoll until she yanks her arm away from you, irritated.

“Just lie about it! Quickly!”

You nod and try to get your fingers to work in tandem with your mind.

sleepyGirl_04: no i just saw the weather report cursedguy07 : sweetheart, you said kyoto rained. when it rains, do you think the entire city rains at the exact time? sleepyGirl_04: uh yeah? cursedguy07 : news flash little girl, but only certain parts of the city rains. unless you’re in the same area as me, you wouldn’t know this, and it won’t show up on your weather report.

Anxiously glancing up, you gawk at Sukuna who’s far away at the dug out, typing away at his phone, fingers flying over the keyboard.

cursedguy07 : tell me the truth, are you on the same field watching my game? sleepyGirl_04: no im not im literally at home cursedguy07 : send me the ‘wet field’ you’re at right now.

“Oh my god girl give me the fucking phone!” Nobara snarls at you and snatches your phone from your hands, exasperated by your poor attempts at lying. You were never a good liar anyways.

sleepyGirl_04: im watching the game on my tv!! cursedguy07 : what channel is the rugby game on?

Nobara immediately turns to you for an answer, and you both shake your head at each other.

“You just made it worse!” You snatch your phone back frantically, switching tabs to beg google for an answer.

“Your dumbass wasn’t going to get out of that anyways,” Nobara rolls her eyes and gestures at the field, “Look, he’s putting his phone away, game’s about to start.”

Gulping, you turn off your phone as the whistle blows. The players line up together in a neat line, shaking each other’s hands as the referee announces the rules. Your eyes are glued onto Sukuna’s frame, sweat glistening his tan skin and dripping across his pink brows. Ah, he dyes his brows pink too.

Sukuna jogs to his bench to retrieve his mouthguard, and you stare, enamoured, as he opens his jaw wide to show off his pearly teeth to an unsuspecting audience, pushing his mouthguard in and clicking it into place. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he chews down twice to adjust to the feeling, then he smiles once to feel it out.

“Is it just me or is that kinda hot?” You whisper to Nobara.

“It’s just you.” She sighs.

The game starts, and it looks entirely like a bull fight. Men with toned thighs clashing into each other, baring their teeth when they grunt, sprinting with the rugby ball with their life on the line. Nearing the goal line, Sukuna shouts a loud “I’m open!” with a wave of his hand, and the ball comes out of no where from the sea of tumbling men, landing straight into his embrace. The men rush at him, he jumps across them like hurdles, then turn his body once to juke out a defender, straining his calves to dive for the line.

Sukuna brings the team to a leading point, and the crowd goes bonkers. His teammates help him up, blood trickling down his nose to his busted lip, glazing his mouthguard with blood. You swallow.

“You’re literally obsessed with him girl.”

--

The game ends swiftly, with The Malevolents winning by a big margin. Sukuna was obviously the MVP, his teammates taking turns to slap him on the back to congratulate him. Brotherhood indeed.

Going off to the side, Sukuna rushes to check his phone again. His heart doing a flip remembering the picture she sent and the accidental freudian slip she gave on text.

She’s from his college. It feels surreal, but he’s confirmed it at this point. Now he has to figure out who exactly it is.

Giving brief excuses to the coach, Sukuna grabs his duffel bag and decides to head straight for his dorm. He’ll shower and figure it out.

“Hah.” Glancing down at his phone as he makes a beeline towards his dorm, Sukuna stares at the picture of her that she sent, a fond smile on his face. Certainly, it’s a very sloppy photo. The lighting is too dark, and the pose she’s posing is stiff and unnatural, and yet. He finds it sweet that this is perhaps the most seductive she could get herself to be. Her cleavage on display with faint outlines of her nipples through her camisole, to her crossing her thighs together to give off a ‘needy’ impression. She has a birthmark on the front of her elbow too, cute. It’s a very sloppy photo. But the best photo he’s gotten in his life, proven by his prominent bulge that he has to hide with his duffel bag.

Huh?

Sukuna stops, and back up 3 times to retrace his steps.

He does a double take.

A birthmark on the elbow?

Curling his spine and leaning his head down to check his phone, he zooms into her arm in the photo.

Something akin to adrenaline washes over him when he snaps his head up to stare at his dorm building that’s 4 steps away from him.

It’s you.

Sukuna takes 3 steps up the stairs towards the 2nd floor, lift be damned. The urgency he has is unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He knows which dorm you’re at, he knows the exact door number. That clumsy, awkward girl at dorm 404. That blue girl he bumped into at campus. The one he’s been sexting these past few months. It’s you. It’s you. All this time, you’ve been right under his fucking nose, 2 floors under his fucking dorm!

cursedguy07 : u in your dorm? sleepyGirl_04: ya i am cursedguy07 : open the door. sleepyGirl_04: what? like my dorm door?? cursedguy07 : im right outside your door.

Somehow. Somehow, this guy’s past is a complete mystery. No social media presence, no childhood friend or classmate to expose him. No bitter family member who wants a share of his income, coming forward to accuse him of being a bad son. His slate is way too clean for somebody of his caliber. Men tend to show off when they have something valuable in their hands. From money all the way to women. It’s impossible that Ryomen Sukuna has nothing to brag about. Sukuna breaks this rule.

Despite the rugby team’s vice captain’s intimidating outwardly appearance, he is impossible to slander. He never breaks. He refuses interviews or cuts them short. Never stands too close with a woman, never raises his voice at his teammates when he gets injured. No one has managed to catch this guy with his pants down yet. He’s either very careful of his image, or he’s anti-social. He doesn’t even have a PR manager! Honestly impressive.

You thought you were the exception. Maybe these other sloppy interviewers aren’t hungry enough. They don’t want it bad enough. Their passion for tearing people down is not strong enough. Pushing and shoving is the most basic, yet the rudest way to direct someone’s anger at you. When you’re angry, the words you spew out of your mouth is uncontrollable, like drunken words. That’s the sweet spot you have to hit to get these snobs to respond to your questions.

You aren’t held back by something as simple as guilt or divine karma. Guilt is for decent people. You tried to interview him a few times. Interviews with him last about one shot of espresso.

“So, Sukuna, how do you feel about ____? Fans saw you both grabbing dinner last week. Is there a chance for a fiery spark of romance?”

“No chance. Thank you for the interview.”

Your pen hasn’t even landed down on your notepad before he bumps into your shoulder and moves towards the locker room. He’s heavier than he looks. An obstacle you wish you could kick down like those cones at the parking lot. No care in the world even as you pretend to stumble from his shove, doesn’t even look back when you yelp loudly just to catch his attention. Absolutely no remorse and completely heartless of a man he is. When you say “Fuck him”, you mean anything but up his ass.

It was utterly infuriating. Why can’t he just slip up? What, too good for a little romance between your team’s ambassador and you? You almost stumped your foot like an angered bunny. 

Sure, you could just move your target to someone else. But Ryomen Sukuna is the big thing right now, and he’s been overstaying his welcome. Doesn’t he know of the 3 6 9 months rule? Somebody should send him packing by now. His looks are discussed online, his stats being aired all over sports articles, ridiculous titles given to him. “King of Curses”? Whoever named him that probably only got it off from those ritualistic tattoos he has all over his body. You wonder if he got these tattoos from an inevitable childhood rebellious phase, or if it was a conscious adult decision to look as unfriendly as possible. He behaves much like a tyrant.

You’ve got to get worse. The best pieces of information are never obtained in a legal, morally acceptable way— the same way the best pieces of meat are always harvested from the black market. Immoral, illegal, but as always, the source material never disappoints.

To Ryomen Sukuna, you’re a nameless journalist. He probably doesn’t even remember your face.

You swear it was just going to be a quick journey. Just a trip to his house, no biggie. It’s not stalking. Ask him a few personal questions by the door, hog his time until he gives in. It sounds like a nauseatingly optimistic outcome, but you’re placing all your bets on this dig, so it’s best to remain on the delusional mindset of positivity. The best outcome would be him shooing you away from his front porch, or you give jail a temporary 24 hours visitation.

Then the article landed right in your lap. As if a divine intervention. Rare times where “God is good.” Scrolling through google maps and double authenticating Sukuna’s house address, You come across a decade old article. Something about murder. Unclear conclusions about the cause of the death, victim was left unrecognizable and never able to be identified. Cliche, predictable, like one of those true crimes stories Youtubers love to post about while doing mukbang ASMR. The statute of limitations for the case most likely about to come to an end. The major suspect was...the citizen that resided in the house.

You look to your right at the article. 

Look to your left at the paparazzi photo of Sukuna’s house.

Look to the right.

The left.

The right.

That’s the same fucking unit.

Your scrambled to type into your google search bar. Fingers flying so fast over the keyboard that you made a few spelling mistakes that autocorrect cleaned it up for you. 

Sukuna is currently 36. He became a pro rugby player at 26, exactly ten years ago. He debuted that same year the murder case had happened. Coincidence much? He only recently came up to the spotlight after upgrading to the national division as the open-side flanker. Is he innocent? You call bullshit on that. Unless he’s a sociopath, there’s no good reason why he would continue to live in the same compound where a murder happened, and he was one of the suspects.  

You blink at the screen for a good while, your right leg up comfortably on your chair, finger rubbing your itchy nose, surrounded in your small, stuffy apartment. Smell of swirling dust and the unpleasant smell of detergent latches onto the fading wallpapers. The apartment filled with containers and boxes to save space. Minimal decoration at the very least just to feel alive. A trinket there, a few magnets on the fridge that you’ve bought from the market, instead of actually traveling overseas. Construction runs on the daily for the past 5 years of your life. The construction work for the building beside your condo never seems to be coming to an end. Hot water only comes every Friday and Wednesday.

An unsolved murder case linked with the biggest sports celebrity right now? You’d make fucking bank. Money from other journalists who want a piece of this. Money from publishing companies who want to be the first to own this source. Even better, quadruple the amount of money from Ryomen Sukuna himself to keep things on the down low. 

You were already fantasizing about your first hotel suite when you laid down on your crinkled mattress that night. It’s gonna have a jacuzzi. Ah, it’s gonna have a great view of the city at night too. Ohhhh, you’ll hold a champagne between your manicured fingers too. Maybe put your foot up on the edge just to show off the pedicure you got along with it.

Shit, you really can transform into a millionaire overnight when you’re an asshole. There’s never an ethical rich person anyways.

---

You find yourself taking an expensive taxi to uptown Shibuya. Raindrops splatter and smear the late city lights, the silence of the car engulfing you in as the lights dim. The closer you are to the snobby part of town, the dimmer the lights are. Seems like they’ve got things they wish to hide in the dark.

Gated homes with security cameras , high scaling skyscraper condos with individual pools in each unit. You stand out like a sore thumb in a place like this— unkempt tied back ponytail, washed out yellow sneakers from college and a file tucked under your arm, filled with obnoxious questions you wish to bombard Ryomen Sukuna with.

Obviously, you’ve made mental preparation that he wasn’t going to welcome you with open arms, and perhaps even call the cops on you. That’s why, the file under your arm isn’t a question a reporter would ask, but rather, an investigator. Here’s to hoping Ryomen Sukuna gives a Freudian slip and reveals stories of his past while you play-pretend as Miss Investigator.

Last time, you played pretend as Toji Fushiguro’s fan and dug up the news about him being a sugar baby for multiple women. Sold that info to a major network and treat yourself to a delectable meal that night. Talk about splurging, baby!

Reluctantly fighting with the taxi driver a thick wad of cash, he snatches the bills from your tight grip, ushering a pitiful you to step out of the cab with a mask over the lower half of your face. The condo you were staring up at was luxurious just at the first glance, the clouds obscuring the top of the building at the penthouse suite, which was Ryomen’s residence. The taxi driver managed to drop you off past the first gate of security, so the rest is up to you. Taking a few quiet steps, you press the lift button, pretending to look at your files seriously. Damn, was your handwriting always this ass? Shit look like a three year old’s scribble.

Your frown softens when a woman turns the corner and waits with you.

Perfect.

You wait for the lift to open and get in after her, quickly pressing the penthouse suite before the lady gets to scan her resident card on the identification panel. “Oh sorry!” You give a chirpy apology towards the lady with a smile, and she returns you a smile with a “it’s fine”, scanning her card for the both of you. Her floral perfume fogs up the enclosed space of the elevator. Certainly your outfit does sell you as a janitor for the higher floors, so you reckoned the lady never questioned you. Her eyes are glued to her phone. Don’t know. Probably doing stocks. Rich people shit. Probably grew up with papa’s credit card.

Bowing politely with a vein on your forehead, you smash the button to close the lift doors as soon as the lady gets out at her floor. You wait for it to ascend to the penthouse. Go over what you’re going to say. Knock on his door, wait for him to appear, act strict about the murder case. Yes, you’re going to be an uptight investigator who looks like she’s been running on endless Americanos and severely underfucked. Yes, yes. That’s the persona that will get Ryomen to talk.

The lift door opens and you’re greeted with a long dark corridor and an intimidating lone door at the very end. Fuck, you didn’t anticipate that the entire floor was his. This doesn’t look like the residence from the paparazzi image. Don’t penthouse floors at least have 2 penthouse suites? A and B with two different tenants? Ryomen Sukuna is this rich? He has the entire floor to himself! Rich people be greedy.

Hesitant but daring like a cockroach, you take tiny steps forward, swallowing nervously as the lift door closes behind you. The corridor lights up as you walk, almost as if greeting you to your downfall. There’s a small security camera embedded into the big wooden door, with a number keypad on it and a normal padlock. The blinking red light shining at you from the camera is quickly raising the tension in your shoulders.

Is it too late to turn back? Shit, where do you even start? Do you pick the padlock? The number keypad is definitely a no-go, that definitely triggers more than just the alarm. Holy fuck, and there security camera is just pointed right at your face. Play this shit smart. You adjust the mask higher up your nose bridge, clearing your throat and squaring your shoulders. Probably should have smoked the last cigarette in your cigarette pack you bought last week.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Mr Ryomen, are you in there? Mr Ryomen! I’m an investigator from the Tokyo police!” You bang on the door, confidently proclaim your false identity, hoping he’d come out.

Silence.

It’s 11pm at night. He has to be home asleep. Ryomen Sukuna has never been photographed for any late night activity, not the bar, not the club, nothing. He should be home nursing a cup of coffee, reading a fancy book. Or dipping in his jacuzzi. God knows what rich people be doing in the privacy of their abode.

Shuffling your pockets, you make a foolishly amateur decision to pick his lock. Taking out a hairpin, making yourself look a fool pulling at the pin and adjusting it to—

“Ack!” You let out a loud shriek, stinging pain throbbing at the valley of your throat, face pressed up against the cold wooden door of Sukuna’s home. A large calloused hand grips viciously at your nape, pinning you to the door despite your choked struggles. A large shadow looms over you.

“Little thief.” A deep baritone voice comes from behind you and you instantly recognize it as Sukuna’s voice. In the corner of your eye, you see a tattooed hand taking out his phone. How did he get here so fast?! The lift didn’t make a sound! You panic.

“W-wait wait wait wait! I’m an investigator! Tokyo police!” You shout against the door, squirming and slowly gaining your stance. You sound more like a criminal. “Tokyo police! You’re going against police investigation!”

“Police?” Sukuna questions you, he unhands you and immediately grab your shoulder, flipping you around 180 to face him. Before you can even squeal, his finger yanks your white mask down your jaw, baring your face to him.

“You’re no fucking police,” He instantly snarls. “You’re the reporter from last Thursday.”

Damn, he’s got a good memory.

Gotta be the very first time you hoped you had terrible makeup on. That makeup you first experimented on your face when you were 16. Barely recognizable. Whole other person. Accidental caricature.

Quickly scanning him up and down, the duffel bag he was holding shakes as his anger flares, the heat from his body radiating towards you. Reminds you of Bowser. Seems like he just got back from a late gym sesh. Gym at this whole god forsaken time? Is this a men thing, or a Ryomen Sukuna quirk?

“I’m calling the real fucking police.”

You gasp.

“NO!”

Sukuna raises his phone to type in, you throw yourself at him and swing at his phone, and he dodges it. With all your might, you step on his toes and Sukuna roars in pain, dropping his phone and his bag, stumbling backwards as you jump on him. Sukuna’s body sounds a thundering thud on the floor. Desperate with no dignity left, you scramble up and grab his phone, stomach smothering his sweaty face. You feel like a snake on a carpet.

“I’m going to kill you!” Sukuna’s large hands grab onto your waist instantly, nails digging so hard through your shirt you swear he might rip it off, and he flips you forward like a rag doll until you’re underneath him. His tattooed face twists into a nasty scowl, veins popping all over his forehead and neck, his jaw tight as he tries to snatch the phone back. You don’t know what came over you, but you shoved his phone right into your bra. Not even you know what you were fucking thinking.

Sukuna flinches and growls, staring down at you as you both pant, catching air and trying to relieve yourselves from the impact of the brawl seconds ago. The papers in your files scatter all over the floor like a bowl spilled noodles.

“You disgusting woman. Get my phone out of your tits.” The sweat from his face drips down onto your cheek. Yuck! You puff up your cheeks to not barf.

At least Sukuna is gentlemanly enough to not try to put his hand inside your bra. You don’t know why that oddly charms you.

“L-listen. Listen.” Your mouth agape and gasping for air, your hands come up to press against his sweat-soaked tank top. “Y-you’re right. I’m a journalist. R-reporter, whatever. I just- Look I just-”

“Get my phone out of your tits. Right fucking now.”

“Listen! I just need to ask you a few questions! Please! Anything! Your childhood, your past-”

“You’re fucking insane-”

“I’ll do anything! M-maybe you wanna fuck?”

Sukuna freezes and looks down at you and the precarious position you’re both in, and recoils in disgust. “You’d sell your body for some information? You’re lowest of the low.” He spits, grabbing his duffel bag and dusting himself off. Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You follow and get up, adjusting yourself but stubbornly refuse to take his phone out of your bra.

“Hah- I don’t care for your insults. I need this dig. I need just a little bit of information for a good headline.” Pleading with him, your tidy up your papers and hug the file defensively into your chest. “Please, my rent is due soon.” You lie on the spot, giving him sad eyes. Does sad, helpless eyes on a woman work on Ryomen Sukuna? Let’s find out.

A beat of silence passes before Sukuna opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. Uncertainty washes over his face before he schools it back into an arrogant chin tilt.

“You said you’d do anything, right? For money?”

And you found out.

“Yes. For information.” Your hands fumble to peel off your shirt.

“Don’t! Don’t do that! I don’t want to see that. Fucking stop.” He turns away quickly before you get the chance to fully remove your shirt, irritated. “You know this is sexual harassment, right? Fucking stop it. I don’t want your body.”

You halt. Guess he really doesn’t want to have sex. Odd. Lust is usually the most efficient weapon to get a man to do what you want. Maybe he’s like…gay? No judgement, of course. You note it down mentally for a good speculating article in the near future. Gotta take all your chances.

“Fine. Let’s make a deal.” Sukuna straightens up and turns to you, still annoyed, but he has calmed down a little. You quickly nod like an obedient puppy. One more word from him and you might as well stick out your tongue and play fetch with him.

“Get me digs on Gojo’s clan.”

“What?” You stammer flatly, confused. That was totally unexpected.

“Get me digs on Gojo,” he repeats, “Number 6 of the Honored City team? That guy. Get me info on his clan.” He crosses his arms.

Gojo? That promiscuous man is already under fire every week for his womanizing tendencies. His fans are always constantly fighting among each other, but no one takes news about him seriously anymore. It’s always the same anyways. Only reason why Gojo is still the blindside flanker in the HC team is because he’s damn fucking good. He’s said to be Sukuna’s rival right now, and he’s a decade younger, 26.

“It’s not worth it though,” You argue, brows tight in confusion, “Gojo only ever gets the same few news about hanging out with different women everyday. It’s boring.” Fishing out his phone from your bra, hastily wiping down the sweat fogged up on his phone screen, you return it to him with an awkward grin. He takes it from you with a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cuz you’re digging in the wrong direction. Gojo’s past is ten times more interesting than mine.” Sukuna wipes his phone down with his wrist, lips zip tight as he’s typing something into his search bar. He holds up his phone to you, showing an article of the Gojo clan.

The Gojo clan are extremely wealthy, and they own half of the lands in Shibuya. Companies that wants to build their buildings here need to get a contract from them, and they handle the site investigation before the building is ready to be stamped for construction. It’s a shit ton of money flowing in, excluding the under the table cash that they most likely get for a few violations of the law. Swipe it under the rug with no tax interests. Everyone knows this.

“Well-”

“Look, it’s late. It’s past 12 am and I don’t wanna stand here and chitchat with you about this.” He makes a flippant gesture, “How about you email me about this?”

Email?

You fold your arms together in a sassy stance.

“You want me to email you about this, old man? I’m not entirely sure if exchanging confidential gossip about Gojo is suitable for email. This is more of a…” You twist your wrists in a catty circle, “More of phone number thing— texting private information.”

“Excuse me?” Sukuna waves his hand in an annoyed manner, reaching to scan for his number pad on his door. “I’m only 36. Remember— you’re still technically a thief that tried to break in. My security camera caught you.”

“You’re excused.” Your snarky voice echoes in the long corridor, eyes greedily ogling his back muscles shifting as he unlocks his door. Hell of a man. “My point still stands.”

Sukuna lets out a loud scoff, before turning back around and giving you his phone number. Sweet. You got more information than you estimated before treading on this adventure. High risk, high rewards!

“Look,” Sukuna’s finger points accusingly at your chirpy face, and you fight the urge to chomp on his finger like a chicken skewer. It’s so thick. “If you dare to text me as if we’re chitchatting, I’m blocking you.”

Stomping your foot down at attention, you salute him enthusiastically like a soldier getting commanded. If you were a dog, your tail would be wagging.

“Aye aye! Deal!”

--

A few days pass after your attempted break in to Sukuna’s penthouse. You’ve been holed up at home digging into Gojo’s clan’s dirty laundry. Of course, not forgetting the murder case linked to Sukuna’s residence as well. Perhaps it was a good thing you didn’t bring it up previously, it would have alerted Sukuna even further. Just stash it aside for now like an optional choice. As of now, this deal with Sukuna is far more important.

According to most of the articles online, there’s been a ton of court cases against the Gojo’s company business. Lawsuit over unfinished inspection work, incomplete payments and unfair labor treatments. All of which got shot down, the Gojo’s seemingly winning every single case and the news quickly gets buried like water dissolving into sand. It’s honestly not strange for a billionaire company to have a hand in unlawful acts, but Sukuna’s insistence on digging up Gojo’s past has triggered a morbid curiosity within you.

Digging up all the articles magnifying on Gojo’s womanizing behaviour, you realize something— most of these articles are published by the same 3 people. Over 50 articles, 3 journalists. Huh. Is Gojo Satoru getting stalked, or is he being consistently slandered by hired journalists?

Gathering all your information into a PDF, you send it over to Sukuna, which he reads it almost immediately.

Woah. Either this guy is on his phone 24/7, or he’s been waiting for your text.

Mr. Ryomen : So you found the similarities. You : You knew all along? Mr. Ryomen : Yes. I did. Told you to look closer into it. Mr. Ryomen : Take a good guess on who hired them. You : You? Mr. Ryomen : You’re actually infuriating. Why would I waste my money and time hiring private journalists to slander my rival in rugby? Mr. Ryomen : I can just beat him on the field. You : Ok, calm your tits down. No need to be so angry. Mr Ryomen : Excuse me? You : You’re excused😹😹😹 You : But seriously, if not you, then who? Nobody else hates Gojo as much. Mr. Ryomen : First of all, I do not “hate” Gojo. Let’s get that out of the way. I told you to look into him. Two years ago, the Gojo clan head passed. Satoru Gojo should have been the next successor of the business, but he debuted as a rugby player. Don’t you think it’s suspicious? You : You’re saying he…went against the clan? Internal drama? Sooo….they’re trying to sully his reputation and make him quit rugby? Mr. Ryomen : I suspect that Gojo has a grip on them. Confidential information that cannot be leaked to the public. Crucial evidence of the clan’s dirty work.

Staring at your phone screen, you sniffle as you sink into your web of overlapping thoughts. Why would Gojo blackmail his own clan? Why would Gojo bite the hand that feeds him? Makes no sense. He’s still living a pretty rich boy life funded by the family.

Pause. Why does Ryomen Sukuna even care about this if he doesn’t actively hate Gojo and want to take him down?

You : Why do you care? Mr. Ryomen : I like puzzle solving. You : What? Mr. Ryomen : Follow my lead and you’ll get a huge dig on this. The Gojo Clan probably is funding Gojo’s career in rugby in exchange for Gojo to not leak evidence. You : Why do you care?

Sukuna leaves you on seen for a good few minutes.

Mr Ryomen : I can see the kid has a real passion for rugby. Mr Ryomen : I’d rather not see his fate tied with the clan’s doings. His technique is great. He’s commendable. His clan deserves what’s coming for them, but Satoru Gojo should still remain on the field. You : Well, how heroic of you, Mr Ryomen…I’m soooo touched…🥺🥺🥺 Mr Ryomen : You’re extremely obnoxious. Get off my phone.

You giggle a little to yourself at his text, biting your bottom lip in amusement.

Mr Ryomen : And I’m no hero.

---

Loud, boisterous cheers rings against your eardrums as you pathetically try to squeeze past the huge crowd of overly hysterical rugby fans at the front row. Jumping and hooting, almost tipping over the edge of the fence just to get a closer look. Is this really necessary? These fans at the front row reminds you of invasive species. All over the place, brash and just causing issues for everyone around them. Hell, that grown ass man is shoving at that poor younger boy with chopsticks for legs, just for a closer peek.

Shoving past that man gave you a thrill, returning him a nasty glare and a smirk that left him cursing at you as you quickly waited by the exiting hallway.

Adjusting your collar and your hair, you get a sense of Deja Vu from the first day reporting in for work. Even ironed out your trousers especially straight today. You’ve grown sloppy about your appearance over the years, but now you have to look presentable for the conversation ahead.

A streak of white hair has you straightening up your back, using your fist to slap at your lower spine. Satoru Gojo, with his pearly white teeth and a pretentious beaming smile, signs autographs and pose for pictures as he nears the exit you’re stationed at, preparing to ambush him. He reminds you of a jester. Nothing about him is ever authentic, only his face. Sometimes, a face is all you need to generate value for yourself in society.

Gojo’s porcelain skin dims as he comes into the shadow and meets your eyes for a brief second. His bright demeanour instantly grows dark and agitated, quickening his steps.

“Heyyy! Mr Gojo! Great game out there! That was hell of a tackle! I must say, a star like you-”

“Spare me the questions, please, thank you. I’m sick of this.” Gojo groans, grabbing his bag from the bench and striding down the hallway to rid of you. You don’t exactly blame him. Out of all the reporters and journalist, you’re definitely the most persistent and unpleasant one to be around. You only ever ask them about secrets they clearly don’t want to share.

Fine. Even attempts at sweetening him up a little don’t work now. Your reputation has clearly fallen way too far from a redeemable bar. Might as well give it to him.

“I’m here to ask about the Gojo clan’s family business. There’s been rumours of unlawful acts. Is this true?”

Gojo halts in his steps, his shoe squeaked against the floor, shoulders stiff with shock. He whips around with a tight expression on his face. It’s scrunched up with wrinkles. Damn, he must be really mad to allow himself such an expressive face. Gojo is always sensitive about looking photogenic.

“Lower your voice. Where’d you hear about that? There’s been no recent articles about my family’s business. What are you saying?” His voice is strained when he speaks, fists clenching hard beside his thigh. “You know I can sue you for defamation, right?” He gives a taunting grin.

“Okay now, it’s rumours. Allegations.” Putting up your hands in surrender, you carefully step closer to him, like a soldier initiating a truce. Gojo doesn’t move, thankfully.

“Can we talk? Off the record. I promise.” Whispering lowly under your breath, you shoot him a pleading look, as big as your eyes can get despite all the puffiness from the lack of sleep lately. As unconvincing as you get, Gojo sighs and rubs his nose bridge, and nods once.

Both of you end up in his car at the empty parking lot. The smell of Gojo’s sweat is suffocating you, so you roll down your windows and pretend you’re not freezing your ass off from the Tokyo night air. Gojo takes his time to wipe himself down with a small towel, getting his nape and his throat, then under the hem of his number 6 jersey.

“Start talking. You got 10 minutes only, miss girl.” Gojo’s sarcasm makes you roll your eyes, but you oblige. You went on a long info dump about what you found about the articles, the allegations, the court— the whole shitshow. He doesn’t utter a word to interrupt you, waiting for you to finish your piece. By the end of it, you’re forced to roll your windows off before the both of you get frostbite.

Gojo rubs his chin skeptically with his slender fingers, deep in thought. A sudden image of Sukuna’s rougher, thicker hands flash before your eyes before you blink it away. Strange.

“Who told you all this?”

“I found this out by myself,” You wink at him proudly, “I pay a lot of attention to you, Mr Gojo.”

“Don’t call me that! We look about the same age.” Gojo winces before running his hand through his damp white hair. Reminds you of fur. “So, you telling me all this that I’m already aware of, so what?”

“I mean, it’s obvious to me that they’re targeting you, no? Care to tell why?”

“It’s simple, really,” Gojo clicks his tongue, “I have evidence. I’m a witness to all the crimes they’ve participated in.” He looks into his rear view mirror and adjusts his hair a little— vain as usual.

“I’d advise you to not publicize this in your article. You’ll get in serious trouble. I’m not shielding you if my family sues you for life. Bankruptcy is the minimum of how far they’ll go.” He snickers, but there’s not much jest in it.

“But you want to expose them, no?” You pry, “You’re just afraid it’ll derail your rugby career.”

“So you doooo get it.” Gojo sass you with a flick of his hand, turning his head towards you that’s in his passenger seat. “Then? Why go the hassle to ask me? Tryna humiliate me or something?”

“No, no, of course not.” Quick to defend yourself, you shake your head, trying to ease the rising tension. The unease within you is crawling up to staggering heights at Gojo’s defensive tone. He’s actually pretty intense when hes not trying to be funny.

“I’m saying I could help youuuu….” Showing him a playful smile, you lay out an offer. Not exactly irresistable, but judging by the strained gummy smile on your face, Gojo gives you a dry stare.

“You?” He laughs, “You’re a little journalist! You can barely get by a day, and you wanna help me?” he mocks, “Has money clouded over your delusional mind?” Gojo reaches out to flick your temple, which makes you grunt in annoyance. Why did you even drag yourself in this anyways? Ugh, all in exchange for Sukuna’s information. Fuck him. Fuck both of them.

“Look— I have an actual source for this.” You put up your hand in front of Gojo’s face before he interrupts you, “It’s confidential, don’t bother asking.” He slumps. “But trust me on this please.”

“You wanna take down my evil family for me? Who benefits from this? This is scandalous.” A quirky eyebrow raise from Gojo has you rolling your eyes back.

“Do you trust me or not?”

“You’re asking if I trust a money hungry journalist with an anonymous source?” Gojo cackles and puts on his sunglasses. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

---

Later that night, you report back in to Sukuna.

You : Mission objective accomplished! Mr Ryomen : Very funny. Good job. You : Can I have my reward now? ;) Mr Ryomen : Is money and information all you think about in that head of yours? You : I think about you tooooo much. You : A good dig stays on my mind all da time. Mr Ryomen : Here I thought you meant thinking about me.

You purse my lips together, momentarily holding your phone to your chest. Your heartbeat is beating at an alarming pace that suggests affection, that you cannot afford to have towards a celebrity athlete like Sukuna. Never mix your personal feelings into work, ever. You know this.

You : I meannnnn….I guess in a way I am thinking of you… Whatcha up to?

Maybe if you keep the conversation more casual and less cut throat. Keep him soft and disarmed.

Mr Ryomen : I made dinner. Curry rice and deep fried pork cutlets. You : Bah. I’m jelly. I had plain udon for dinner. Must be nice to be rich… Mr Ryomen : It’s not a very expensive meal anyways. You : Still, I can’t really afford it every other day, much less everyday. LOL. Anyways. I’m just getting ready for bed. You : Have a nice dinner.

You shut off your phone, preparing to hit the sack for the night, when your phone unexpectedly lights up again.

Mr Ryomen : What does your room look like?

Scratching your head in prolonged contemplation, you give in and take a photo of your bed.

You : *Sent a photo*

Overrun by papers, your futon mattress is cramped on the hard floor of your bedroom. Beside your filmsy mattress is your charger, extending charger, plugging in your phone, your power bank, and your big printer that you use to print out articles and paperwork. Stuff.

It’s a pretty gloomy photo, but you really can’t give less fucks. Let the man be exposed to your lifestyle that he struggles to comprehend.

Mr Ryomen : It’s very you.

Your eyebrow raises til your forehead grows 3 wrinkle lines.

You : How? Cuz I always look cheap? Mr Ryomen : That’s not it. Mr Ryomen : It looks ambitious. Strong drive and personality.

Mr Ryomen : You’d be a great rugby player.

This fucker has to be bullshitting you. Matter of fact, what the hell is he talking about? Is Ryomen Sukuna some kind of philosopher?

 You : ?? Whatever that means. Mr. Ryomen : Your temper fluctuates fast. You : I guess I’m just kind of fed up with people trying to find the “good” and “positives” in life. Especially in dire situations. You : Pisses me off, can’t lie. You : Would you rather live in my apartment with a thin futon or your opulent penthouse? Choose the former and I call bullshit.

Shit. Got carried away typing all that. This is too much of a sensitive topic for you. Extremely triggering in fact.

Mr. Ryomen : Believe me or not, I’ve been there and done that. Mr Ryomen : Rugby pays well, that I will not lie. But I’ve lived out my skewer days. You : The 149 Yen pork frankfurt at Lawson? Mr Ryomen : The 109 Yen chicken skewers at Lawson.

Nauseous, something disgustingly warm blooms in your chest. Why does it feel so good to be seen and understood? The sudden pang of longing hits you hard as your eyes practically burn Sukuna’s text message into your eyelids.

You : …Right. You get it. You : See you tomorrow. Mr. Ryomen : I’m looking forward to it.

--

The comforting aroma of coffee beans and clean, expensive AC fills your nostrils when you walk into the classy coffee shop you agreed to meet Sukuna at. With great consideration of his lifestyle and endless stream of money, it’s a no-brainer that you were the one who suggested this cafe. You have no backup plan on what you’ll do if he asks you to split the bill, but you give him a benefit of the doubt that he’ll be at least gentlemanly enough to take up the bill after your unfortunately emotional conversation last night.

The cafe’s design is as if a whorl, counters circled around the main bar, seats allocated in the same manner. Sukuna amusingly stands out like a sore thumb, it’s ludicrous. Sukuna sits at the middle with an empty seat beside him. He’s genuinely bearish. Like a bear that suffered through deforestation and is now forced to adapt to a life in the big city. Glasses and cap on, hunched over the table, as if nobody can recognize him by his runic-like tattoos.

Thankfully this cafe is in the more “classy” part of the city, everyone is more-or-less an influencer, so as it turns out, nobody gave a shit that Sukuna is sitting there alone by his lonesome self. He sips his cup of tea demurely before meeting your gaze, instantly scowling at the cheeky smile you’re giving him.

“Hi. You’re late.”

“Hi, I was just enjoying the view of watching you being so lonely, Mr Ryomen.” Cheerfully, you sit down next to him, pulling out your laptop and crumbled notes that you brought from your apartment. Did you turn off the stove? Did you lock the door? Shit, it should be fine. Sukuna gives you a questioning look while you had a brief panic.

“Cut that shit out. Just call me Sukuna. My family name sounds awkward coming from you.”

“Okay, okay. Calm your tits down.”

“Stop it.” He reinforces it in a firmer tone, and you bite back saying ‘shiver me timbers’ as you boot up your crusty old laptop that has not have a new screen protector change since the day of purchase. Sukuna seems to not mind it. He sips his tea and leans in to take a good look at your screen, squinting his eyes and turning up the brightness himself. His finger smashes the button in building annoyance.

Gojo has given you some information about the Gojo clan and their transgressions. For starters, those court cases they won? All bribery and under the table cash exchange. This part was obvious. There’s a whole excel sheet of large sum of money going in and out of foreign accounts, numbers that don’t add up, yada yada. Screenshots of the accounts and the owners. Needless to say, your laptop is worth billions right now. Will people come after your life?

Bouncing your leg, you come to a slow realization that you’re now caught in a crossfire of something direly serious, and if it all comes down to it, the biggest loser here would be you. If anyone found out about this…you’ll say goodbye to your apartment and your career, then you spiral down to bankruptcy. Homeless. Streets scavenging for food—

A few clicks of finger snaps bring you back to reality, with Sukuna asking for permission to stick his USB into your laptop to transfer the files. Allowing him to plug it in, a little dazed and distracted by the impulsive situation you put yourself in.

“You good?” He asks casually, masking his concern at your sudden silence.

“Uh, yeah.” You push your hair back with your fingers, noticing Sukuna watching you.

“Why? Gettin’ cold feet?” His concern tone tickles you, circling his finger around the rim of his tea cup while he waits for the data transfer.

“No, no, I’m…just thinking.”

“You’re gonna think about someone else while I’m right beside you?”

“Are you flirting with me or am I so tired out my damn mind that I’m hearing things?” You turn your body slightly to face Sukuna, his tongue poking his inner cheek and swiping over his lips.

“You can’t tell when someone is flirting with you?” Sukuna raises a curious eyebrow, and you swear his question sounded borderline sarcastic. Is he for real? It can’t be, can it?

“There’s an appropriate time and place, Mr Genius.”

“So I’m being inappropriate right now?”

“I guess.”

“You’re a funny girl.”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“Hm.” He squints. “I’m thirty-six. Guess I’m out of your age range.”

“Well, no…not really.”

For some reason you find yourself fidgeting with your reply, aware that you’re indirectly clarifying that you’re fine with his age being almost a decade older than you. You’re plenty sure you’re playing with fire, but it’s in your nature to bask in thrill.

“Oh, so you like older men?”

“Okay well thirty-six is a good age, it’s a sexy, financially stable age.” Crossing your arms, the snarky reply earn a chuckle from him, his dimples gracing his handsome face. Shit, he doesn’t even have to try.

“Ahhh, so I’m sexy.” He grins.

“I didn’t say that-” You halt.

“You did.” He cuts.

“I said the age itself is sexy. Doesn’t have to be you-” You shoot back.

“So do you think I’m sexy?” He pops.

“I think you think you’re sexy.” You spit.

Sukuna claps his hands together and laughs, throwing his head back with mirth. You smile to yourself and stare down at your laptop, trying to suppress then strange attraction bubbling up inside you. In the corner of your eye, he started eyeing you up and down, less subtle than he’d like to be. But maybe he’s doing it on purpose.

You got out of the house in the laziest, casual outfit possible with no makeup, and Ryomen Sukuna is looking at you like you’re a fresh-faced model that he’s trying to push into his pillow. No words.

“I enjoy talking to you. You’re witty.”

“Wow.”

“Bad attitude too.” He quickly adds.

“Oh man. I’m honoured. Is The Great Ryomen Sukuna flirting with a journalist that he absolutely despise?” You quip with a cringe smile. Totally not flustered at all. Play it cool.

“Who said I hated you?” Sukuna’s eyes darts down to your laptop as the data transfer completes, plugging the USB out and chugging down his tea, placing down the tea cup rather loudly against the coaster. Clearly he’s got places to be. Anywhere but with you, it seems.

“Ciao.” He gets up from his stool and heads for the door, and you try your absolute hardest to not ogle his back muscles squeezing his thin shirt and how heavy he looks just from walking.

Shit, if he was really flirting with you, you wonder if you’d go home with him in a flash of a millisecond. You don’t think you’re that easy, but his even thighs manage to look burly in his jeans. It’s probably so firm if you straddled it…Stop. Hes probably just teasing you. Asshole. Almost got to your head too.

You pack your stuff as quick as possible before you get too ahead of yourself and indulge in the idea of sleeping with Ryomen Sukuna. Learning from a young age, gluttony only makes you choke on your food. Never scarf food down your throat; It’s more food than you can handle.

You find yourself back at your apartment, holding a plate with a rather depressing looking sandwich with just a thin slice of ham. At least you bought it at half price since it’s nearing it’s expiry date. The lady at your local grocery store hates to see you coming 30 minutes before closing to snag all the discounted items for the day.

Brushing away bread crumbs from your laptop, you skim through articles after articles of the murder case that happened a year ago at Sukuna’s residence. Sure, the Gojo case is on hold now since Sukuna got the information he wanted, but that didn’t mean you’d give up on the dig on him too. He must take you for a fool, or maybe he took you for an honorable person that respects a deal.

Sorry Sukuna.

Being a good person never got you anywhere or anything good. Good karma never circles back around, so instead you circle up some highlighted and suspicious points from a select few of the articles you’ve printed out. Surfing reddit and conspiracy theory posts never disappoints you as a major source of either false rumours or anonymous self reports.

Searching up a few keywords of “Ryomen” and “Murder”, then filtering the posts back to a decade ago, you hit jackpot. With over a whopping 257 posts, you lace your fingers together and stretch your arms forwards, knuckles cracking. Turning your neck side to side with a few relieving cracks, you get to work.

----

When was the last time you put on a decent amount of makeup? You wonder if the concealer you used on your face was expiring soon, but fuck if its too late to care. Textured skin hides better in the dark anyways, and you don’t plan on heading out to the sun.

A few days back, you got a text from Sukuna after three weeks of back and forth texting. Thought he was too snobby to text first, or perhaps he just wanted to forget all about the deal after he got the information he wanted. Unfortunately for you, you’ve been enjoying the casual texting with him.

Mr Ryomen : Meet me at my penthouse at 7pm, Sunday. Mr Ryomen : If you’re available then? You : Sureeee. We going over our next steps? Mr Ryomen : Yup. Long story short, I spoke to Gojo. You : Whot? I thought you wanted to keep it a secret. But that’s great tho, skipped all that hassle to back and forth. Lolll You : Do I get my info afterwards then? Hope you hold up your side of the deal 👀 Mr Ryomen : You and your info. Christ, young lady. You’ll get it when you get here. You : Oooookay. See ya.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard for a quick second.

You : Btw. How long is the discussion gonna take? Your place is hellaaa far…. Mr Ryomen : I’ll pay for your taxi back. Or drive you back. You : Drive me back? Mr. Romantic! Mr. Ryomen : You gotta raise your standards.

A knock on Sukuna’s door, and it flings open to his lo and behold glorious form. Why the fuck is he so sexy in a sleep shirt and casual loose sweatpants? It’s probably your hormones. He greets you with a crooked smile as you walk in, welcoming you to judge his place. Surprisingly, he’s not intent on using state-of-art equipments and furniture. Most of his household items are obtainable in Nitori and relatively affordable. Guess he’s the kind of man that cares more about a good neighbourhood to stay at than the celebrity status.

“I’ll go get water. Just sit anywhere.”

You watch Sukuna pad towards his kitchen, peering down at his foot to notice his absurdly large size. You know what they say about men with big foot. Oh my god you’re getting distracted. Sitting down on the leather couch of his couch, it reminds you strangely of your hometown. Long estranged from your rather emotionally unavailable parents and your hometown, the sense of deja vu is unpleasant. The leather couch that your father loves to sit on and dent the same exact spot, smoking on cigar. Sukuna’s couch is pristine and perfect compared to it, but you’re sure its the same model.

“Like my couch?” Sukuna returns with two cups of warm water, which you thank and take one from him. Strangely enough, his tone is gentle. Damn bastard just picks up on your mood easily.

“Yeah, I do. Reminds me of my childhood home…” The warm water is soothing you down slowly, washing over the remaining memories of drinking scalding hot water since it was always too cold in the country side. Heaters are expensive to maintain, and you always a quota to boil hot water in a big kettle once a day only. All to save gas. If the hot water cools afterwards, you’ll have to settle for chilly water for the rest of the day.

“It’s a nice place you have, by the way.” Clearing your throat to not sound sentimental, you briefly comment on the penthouse interior. There’s a specific door that’s blocked behind a bookshelf beside the tv.

“It’s an old storage room.” Once again reading your mind, Sukuna quenches your curiosity. The speed of his response only worsens your nosiness.

“Gojo and I will pay for you to release an article anonymously about the Gojo clan scandals and we’ll submit the evidence to the police.” The sudden turn in conversation along with his sober tone has you doing a double take at him, putting down your cup on his artistic-looking coffee table.

“What? That sounds spontaneous as hell. You both sure you know what you’re doing?” You sweat. “I don’t got money if they sue me, you know.”

“Relax. That’s why I mentioned to publish it anonymously. Use a VPN, or publish it right here at my place with my IP address.” Sukuna does a placating gesture to calm you down, but in all honesty, this is moving all too fast for you. The risk is crazy, but at the very least your job is only to publish the article. You’re not taking the entirety of the fall.

“You could have just texted me this if you’ve already sorted out with Gojo.” Frowning at him, you feel miffed. Could have been at home nursing the coffee beans you bought with your paycheck last month. Instead you’re here with—

“That’s true. But you wanted your information, and I wanted to see you.”

You stare at him incredulously, lips parted with shock. Wow, he’s really coming onto you. His eyes are uncharacteristically soft, distinct from his usual nonchalance and intensive stare. Sukuna’s body language seem to lean towards you, his tongue swiping over his lips a few times restlessly. Entranced, you lock eyes with him.

“Yeah. Right. I do want my information.” You swallow, unsure on the sudden tension that’s suffocating the air.

“Just your information?” He breathes.

The fuck?

“Sorry-” you cough. “Am I going crazy or are you giving me bedroom eyes?”

“I am.” Sukuna quietly admits. “It usually works pretty effectively. Is it working?”

A beat.

“Remember when we first met? What you said? I thought you weren’t interested in, you know.” Rolling your shoulders, you break eye contact.

“I know what I said. However, you cannot judge my impression of you based off our first encounter. Admittedly, you were a thief back then.” Sukuna grabs your hand gently, guiding you to look back at him.

“But you’re just, really…You infuriate me.” He adds.

“Excuse me?”

“You infuriate me in a good way. You have no filters when you speak, and you never hide your intentions at all.”

“Uh huh.”

“Plus, your living situation is…I told you I’ve been there before, so…”

“Uh huh…”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

“To be honest,” He sighs, “I don’t know if I want to take care of you or...”

“Or..?”

“Or fuck you stupid.”

You blink once. Twice. Before moving in a flash to straddle him and press your lips against his. Sukuna responds fast, as if he’s on the rugby field, quickly shoving his tongue in your mouth and his hands come up to grasp at your neck. His right hand grips your throat, and his left grips your nape.

“You dolled yourself up for me?” Breaking the kiss with a soft gasp, Sukuna teasingly whispers into your face, his hot breath blowing at you. He nudges the tip of his nose with yours, eyes droopy with desperation filled with them.

“Don’t flatter yourself, stupid.” You kiss him to silence him again, moaning into his mouth when he tightens his grip on your throat. His hands are rough and knuckley, slithering their way down to your cargo pants and grab a handful of your rear. He kneads your ass roughly, groaning into the kiss.

The kiss grows frantic. Sukuna’s nose presses into your cheek, slanting his head over yours in effort to push his tongue deeper into the wet cavern of your mouth. His hand have moved up to your lowerback, another gripping your shoulder with an increasing strength that should worry you.

You pull back and he chases your lips again and again. One desperate kiss, then another. Then another. The wet smacking of lips and the heat that’s starting to pool between your thighs is making you dizzy with the need to rub yourself against him.

“Fuck…” Trailing his mouth down your neck, Sukuna sucks purple hickeys into your neck, turning your head this way and that however he wants. Saliva coating your neck, he sucks harder at the spot behind your ear when your fingers dig into his undercut, followed by a desperate whimper.

“Come here.” Sukuna grabs your waist and spins you around with no warning, pulling your ass back to sit on his lap. You instantly feel the press of something hard and insistently twitching against your butt. The warmth radiating from it is most definitely his pre-cum stain. You grind down harder and he curses. Fuck.

“Stop that.” He spanks your ass and grabs your hip to make you stop. You didn’t expect him to be so strict in bed, but it feels good to be told what to do.

Sukuna manhandles you to pull back your back against his chest, pushing your head back so you rest your head on his shoulder. He makes quick work at unzipping your cargo pants and shimmying you out of your panties and pants.

“Wha- What are you doing?”

“Wanna finger you." Sukuna wastes no time and shoves two of his thick, knuckled fingers into your mouth, groaning under his breath when you gag on them. His fingers collect your saliva and pull them out from your mouth with a wet pop, then drop them down to tap directly onto your clit.

“Su-sukuna-!” You moan with a broken pitch, feeling delirious from Sukuna’s slimy coated fingers rubbing roughly over your swollen clit. He interchanges between spanking and teasing your clit, then circling over the poor nub. Your orgasm is going to come so fucking fast if he keeps this up.

“You like having me take care of you?” Sukuna sultrily whispers into your ear behind you, his free hand pushing up your shirt to pinch at your nipple. “So sensitive.” He pinches your clit hard, rubbing it between his fingers. The rubbery feeling of your folds getting twisted and rubbed against each other with your swollen clit poking out was driving you mad. Sukunas pulls your nipple til you cry out and he laughs into your neck.

“Su-Sukuna…G-gonna cum-” Whining, you sound out as your body trembles, breath quickening from your incoming orgasm.

“Answer me.” He slaps your clit.

Tensing up with a silent whimper, your orgasm crashes over you, your legs shake and your mouth falls open with a drool. Sukuna doesn’t stop, holding you tight towards his chest and licking lewdly into your ear.

“You gotta answer me properly, miss journalist.” Turning you again, Sukuna lays you on your stomach on his lap, and spanks your ass once.

“Ah! I-I- Uh-!” You yelp in pleasure when he spanks you again, uncaring about your wetness drooling down your thigh.

“Proper answer.” Sukuna grabs the front of your throat and pulls you up slightly, leaning himself down to snarl in your ear, his fingers rubbing over your sensitive hole, dipping in, then pulling out.

“Ye-yes! Like it! Love it s-so much! Please take care of me- finger me- Hurry up! Fuck!” Long, Involuntary celibacy has made you way too horny out of your mind, begging Sukuna like a pathetic cat in heat. You get your reapings when he pushes a thick finger into you and stretch you open.

It burns. It feels impossibly full and so so good, your hips involuntarily moving to fuck yourself onto his finger. “Greedy girl.” Sukuna snarls before easing another thick finger into you, scissoring it until you almost pass out from your second orgasm, shaking and whining into his couch.

Weakly getting up, you straddle him upright once again, pulling him into a heated makeout. Your hips buck once and Sukuna moans loudly into your mouth, bucking his hips back to hump your wet heat that’s separated by the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

“No- I wanna cum inside you.” With all his might, Sukuna yanks you up to stop you from humping him any further. Ignoring your whine, he practically drags you like a ragdoll to his bedroom, throwing you on his bed.

A quick pull from his drawer reveals a small pack of condoms, which he rips one out snd prepared to roll it on his cock. “Let me see…” Whining, you sit up and pull down his waistband impatiently, pussy leaking even more wetness at his fat chubby cock jutting out from his boxers. It’s so heavy that it can’t even stand upright.

His cock is so obscene in itself. Big, droopy with precum, and veiny. A tattoo banded around the circumference. Sukuna fists his cock impatiently, grabbing your jaw with little to no gentleness.

“I’d be happy for you to blow me, but to be honest,” He strokes his cock faster, more and more precum oozing out and coating his own length, “I’d rather fuck your pussy right now.” He slides the condom smoothly over his cock.

Sukuna’s filthy words makes you moan out loud, brows knitted as he pushes you down, grabbing your thighs and pushing them up to your chest, revealing your wet cunt to him. He stares for a good while and blows air at it, chuckling when your pussy twitches.

Just when you thought he was going to slot himself into your hole, Sukuna leans down and licks a long stripe up your cunt instead. Your hips instantly buck up with a loud plea, Sukuna’s hands pressing your thighs down and prying them open to keep your pussy accessible to him. His warm tongue gathers all your slick at your hole, and pushes them all up to your clit. Your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” He spits into your cunt, “Love eating pussy.” He dives back and flicks his tongue over your clit in rapid speed, laving over it again and again until your eyes are rolled back and your mewls are incoherent. “Yours especially.”

“O-oh! O-oh my-my fucking god! Fuck! Sukuna!” You scream as Sukuna pushes a finger in again, mouth now sucking harshly at your clit until his cheeks hollow in and your squirt fills his mouth, splashing over his nose when he pulls back. His tongue continues to lick at your clit even as your squirt sprays, giving no fucks about how nasty it is.

“Should be wet enough now.”

“W-what?”

Giving no time for your dazed-out self to recover, Sukuna leans up and hooks his burly arms under your knees, pulling you closer.

“You want it all in or inch by inch?” He growls, panting. He’s entirely flushed with frustration and pent up horniness.

His dick slaps down at your clit and you mewl.

“J-just put it in please!”

As soon as the words left your throat, Sukuna shoves his fat cock in with one fluid motion. The stretch of his dick makes you scratch at his forearm, tears rolling down your cheek. Sukuna wastes no time and pulls you into a bear hug, hands sliding down to grip your ass, and starts to fuck you seriously.

By seriously, it means he’s fucking you like how he plays rugby. Fast, hard, right on the angle with aim. His hands pulls your ass up to meet his mean thrusts, jackhammering into you while his sweat drips all over the hollow of your throat. Your fingernails scratch his back up until it’s red and raw.

“You feel so fucking good. Fuck baby.” He bites his lip hard, dark eyes glued down at your fucked-out face. Eyes unfocused and drooling down your chin. He groans, hips rutting faster as if he was in heat.

“I’m gonna bust just looking at your face. Holy fuck.” Somehow Sukuna picks up pace, your gummy walls practically vacuuming him inside everytime he thrusts, his squishy mushroom tip kissing your cervix. The pleasure is too much and boils over, and you cum even more violently than the previous orgasm.

“S-suk-ahhhn-”

“Haha. Can’t even fucking speak. How are you gonna ask me anything, miss journalist?” Sukuna laughs and cruelly mocks you when you stutter, savouring the way you’re utterly gone with how good hes fucking you. You don’t even respond to him lightly slapping your cheek. His mouth opens wide to chomp down at your shoulder.

“F-fuck I’m gonna cum.” Sukuna shifts to push the both of you up the bed until your head reaches the headboard. You don’t resist when he puts a pillow between the top of your head and the headboard.

“Brace yourself baby.” Was all he said before he grips the headboard for leverage and fuck you even harder. At this point you sob from overstimulation, watery eyes blurry as you look up at Sukuna who’s snarling with the focus to cum.

How can he last so long?! Are all athletes possessing of crazy stamina!?

“O-oh fuck.” His hips stutter. “Shit-!” Once, twice and one more before he slams into you and cums loudly. “Ooohhhh fuck…” His white hot cum spurts into the condom, and yet you can still feel the warmth of it inside you. With a sigh, Sukuna pulls out. You whimper, pussy feeling empty.

“Round two,” He pulls off the condom, tying it. Revealing his still hard, wet cock, before grabbing a new one, “I’m gonna fuck you slow for the second. Make it sweet, yeah?”

He smiles down at you with a rather affectionate grin, and suddenly you’re hit with guilt for what you’re actually here for.

Sorry Sukuna.

“A-Actually im sleepy…” you blurt out, panting and limbs feeling like jelly.

“Oh.” Sukuna stares at you and freezes for a good moment, eyes flickering down to his still erect cock, then down at your pleading face.

“OK. Then let’s just sleep.” Of course, Sukuna nods and sighs, “We have all the time in the world.” He places the condom back on his nightstand and slumps down next to you as if he’s a good man that didn’t just fuck your brains out. It’s a little wild to see him revert back to his usual nonchalance outside of sex.

“By the way, you should go pee. Else you’ll get a UTI.'“ He softly whispers in your ear, nudging your arm slightly. Your heart does a traitorous little flip, taking his advice heading to the bathroom, and looking back at his sleepy smile, the bed carving out an empty space for you to return to his embrace.

Is this guy really into me?

The guilt gnaws as you when you return to the fluffy bed, and Sukuna naturally curls his arm around your waist and pull you back towards him like you’re his personal teddy bear. Eyes wide open, you wait for him to fall asleep, breathing evening out on your shoulder. All you can think about is the murder case, Gojo, and the potential murderer that you suspect Sukuna to be. You sobered up right after the sex. You have no time, and you’re feeling rather drowsy yourself with sleep.

Feeling like scum on Earth, you slowly turn in his arms to face him, thankful that he’s not the type to tighten his arms around his lover. Deep sleepers have their pros, and their cons. He’s not even going to realize what you came to his house to do.

Sukuna?” You whisper softly into his ear.

“Sukuna? Hello?” Saying his name out louder, you reach your finger out to hover over his cupids bow. His breathing is slow. He’s fast asleep after the sex.

Untangling yourself carefully, you peek a few times back at him, covering yourself up with your clothes again before tiptoeing(limping) out of his room. Grabbing your phone, you swiftly swipe it to your phone camera.

Behind you on the bed, Sukuna’s left eye peeks open, watching your silhouette scurry out the room.

----

You snap pictures everywhere without shutter sounds. His living room layout, the corridors, everything. Bathroom, gym to the kitchen as well. Anything for evidence.

Even that suspicious “storage room” needs to get checked out.

The bookshelf stands ominously before you when you step beside it, trying to figure out how to push it aside in the quietest way possible. Maybe a cloth on the bottom? Can you even lift it?

Emptying the bookshelf is a good idea, but it takes too long, and it’s a horrible idea considering the space it takes up too. Directly pushing it will also scrape the floor and make a loud noise. What to do?

A sudden snore from Sukuna’s room make you snap your head up like an alerted Gazelle. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Time is zealously ticking, you need to get this bookshelf out of the fucking way to open that door! It’s too squarish and too heavy and too…

A sudden eureka has you moving fast to remove the books from two specific slots from the bookshelves. Thanks to the structure of it, there’s no supporting backwall for each square frame, which means it’s entirely just a small “tunnel”. That you can fit through.

Removing the books from a higher section to turn the door knob and push open the door, you’re met with complete darkness. Taking a deep breath, you remove the lower section books to squeeze yourself through the empty frame, and successfully hijacked yourself into the room.

Hands scrambling to stand up, you feel up the dusty walls beside you, until an unmistakable bump makes contact. A switch.

Click.

The light on the ceiling flickers, flashing your squinting eyes til they wince. The flickering stops and lights up the storage room.

It’s completely, utterly ordinary. Average. Sukuna was not lying, it was genuinely just a storage room. If not for the sinister grey urn placed right in the middle of an empty shelf. If not for the black and white picture of an old man placed right above the urn. If not for the way your breathing is tense and stilled, recognizing the man in the photo to be the victim who was murdered in that mysterious case a decade ago.

“Got what you wanted?”

A thunderous voice behind you jolts your entire body with goosebumps and adrenaline, whipping your head to see Sukuna watching you behind the bookshelves that’s blocking the door. His red eyes are dark and grim, peering straight at you getting caught red-handed. Your lips tremble to scour for a plausible excuse for why you’re inside the room where he had prohibited you to be in, with your phone camera in your hand.

“U-uh, I…I-”

“Uh uh uh.” Sukuna mocks you, but there’s not humour or lingering amusement in it. He pushes the bookshelf away with minimal effort and ventures into the room with you.

One step forward, and you take two steps back in fear.

“Hah.” He rolls his eyes and lets out a short disbelieving laugh, “You’re fucking joking. Are you stepping back because you think I’m going to do something to you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, yet his tone sounded…hurt.

“No, I just…I…”

Shaking your head weakly, you point at the urn, silently wanting an explanation.

“That’s my father.” He growls.

“Oh.”

“You think I killed my father?” His tone is livid.

“No, no, You’re not that kind of person…”

“You don’t even sound confident in your answer, miss journalist.” Sukuna frowns, jabbing a finger at your chest. You stumble back a little, afraid.

Sukuna’s face is contorted into a furious snarl, yet there is a mix of disappointment in it. His chest is heaving up and down, trying to remain calm. He’s…he’s disappointed in you. Or himself. Both maybe. Disappointed by himself trusting in you, disappointed that you’ve come so far not for his heart but for the sake of a dig. Money.

You listened to him ramble about his feelings all night long, have sex with him, just so you could fuck him over when he sleeps. He has never known a greater betrayal, but Sukuna hides it well.

“Fuck.” Sukuna ruffles his hair, turning his head to look around the dusty, cramped storage room. It’s been a while since he’s been in here. Looking down at you again, he sighs with resignation. Your kiss swollen lips from earlier, unkempt hair that he had tangled his hands in, neck that’s still scattered with his bite marks. He chews his inner cheek before he speaks.

“You want information? The truth? I’ll give it to you.” He quietly mutters, borderline wistful as the words spill out of him.

You nod.

“After that, get out. I never want to see you ever again.”

-----

A week later, you publish all the evidence on the Gojo clan and make the files publicly accessible online. All their finance frauds, under the table transactions and illegal businesses. You took heed of Sukuna’s advice to publish it anonymously through a VPN, so it couldn’t be tracked back to you. The scandal spread over the internet like wildfire, multiple executives and higher ups in the Gojo Clan were getting sued by the government. Sukuna and Gojo were summoned to court as witnesses.

10 million yen was dropped into your bank account over the next few weeks in tid bits. You know it’s from Sukuna, and the churning feeling in your stomach growns more awful day after day. He kept his promise to pay you despite the fact that he probably resents you now. When the bank calls to verify the large transactions, you hesitate to request for the transactions to be frozen. In the end, your cowardice never manages to do it, and you float on the knowledge that you have a ridiculous sum of money in your bank account for the weeks that come after.

Days blur into weeks, weeks blur into months. Sitting on the full truth about the murder case that involves Sukuna has unsettled you the same as it brings you uncertainty. Sukuna had run you down with the specifics of what had happened that fateful day a decade ago, giving you full autonomy to publish it as you please.

Sukuna’s father died during an argument with his wife Kaori, getting pushed down the stairs in the heat of the moment.

Kaori is Sukuna’s step mother, who is the same age as Sukuna, which repulses him, and Sukuna grows estranged with his father when he remarried her. Kaori is sarcastic, cruel, but very pretentiously sweet in front of his father. Sukuna tolerated her as much as he could before he moved out to his own penthouse from his father’s mansion.

One Sunday night in December, Sukuna’s father and Kaori came to visit him at his penthouse for dinner. While he was in the shower, they argued. Sukuna rushed out of the shower to find Kaori fleeing his penthouse, his father lying beneath a pool of crimson red by the bottom of the stairs.

Sukuna called the police to search for Kaori. While he was grieving, Kaori had called him through a burner phone, threatening him with evidence of his late father’s dirty business. Sukuna never claimed his father to be a good man. So he took his own share of money left behind by his late father, and gave the entire company to Kaori with promises to not bring up the case ever again. Eventually, Sukuna returned to rugby that he always had a secret passion for, used to be restricted by his late father due to familial expectations to take over the family business.

The urn in the storage room is what’s left of his father, and certainly a buried truth behind the locked door. Sukuna had chased you out that night, and left you with that truth for you to publish. He willingly bared his weak spot to you, knowing you could end his rugby career forever and possibly put him behind bars for being an accomplice.

There are nights where you toss and turn in your bed, unable to sleep, watching Sukuna’s rugby matches on the tv. Often eating a full meal while you watch, thanks to the money he had sent you.

The waves of emotions that drowns you is unbearable each time you see his face on the screen. Months of your friendship, the banter. His smile, the confession. The tender way he had held you after sex. It didn’t even hit you before you ruined everything. Sukuna liked you, more than he wanted to. But didn’t he know who you are? Wasn’t he aware that you would do anything for money?

Tears soak your shirt sleeves until you pass out and let sleep take you away.

You grew fond of Sukuna too in his absence.

You’re a horrible, terrible and vile person.

----

“Excuse me, young lady?! You think you can just up and go?!”

“Well yeah. I hate this job. You fucks pay me minimum wage. I’m quitting.”

“You can't—”

“I can. Fuck you, have a bad day.”

Slamming your phone face down beside you on the couch cushion, you sigh, let yourself slump lazily into it. The cushion already has a familiar dent in it from how often you sit in the exact same position.

You had quit your job for good. Reporting gossip and spreading lies was going to wear you down any day soon, might as well resign now. It was making you grow into a nasty person. You don’t want to solidify your place in hell harder. The money Sukuna had given you is still in your bank account, but it would only last til the end of the year until you find a new job.

What can you possibly be qualified for as an ex-journalist…?

Well, the fucking coffee shop downtown.

Unfortunately for a new staff, coffee shops and restaurants do not slow down for the likes of you. Even off peak hours, the coffee shop is packed like fucking sardines in a can. You can barely keep up with the name of the orders, the endless receipt machine and the dirty plates that never stop stacking up by the side of the sink.

Who the fuck orders 21 pumps of caramel syrup?!

This lady’s name is spelled Eme-leigh?! Why not just Emily! What the fuck-aleigh!

The cafe is your new reality. You blame yourself from having bad karma cycling back to you. Rolling your eyes at your manager gets you at risked of being forced to OT too. Literally feels like hell on earth. A part of you miss the life of traveling and stalking celebrities all over the city and ask intrusive questions, but you have already swore off to never go back to the person you once was.

Not only that, but you also have to taste your own medicine when you get customers who are total jerks. Doesn’t leave you alone even when you refuse them for your number multiple times. Especially this sleazy man who’s blocking the counter and harassing you for your contact information right now. This was definitely how it felt to be hounded by a journalist. Dreadful, relentless, and irritating.

“I said no, I’m busy with my shift, and you’re not my type.” You repeat out loud.

“Aw come on, I know you’re just playing hard to get. I’m a splendid guy, promise I’ll give you a night to remember—”

A broad shoulder appears from behind him and shoves the man aside.

“Move it.”

Sukuna.

Your mouth falls open and all you can do is gape at him.

What the hell is he doing here?

Humiliation boils up your redden ears at his presence. Flashes of the past few months rush back to memory. The coffee machine sound whirs behind you, waiting for you to insert the cup for an espresso pump. Sukuna’s eyes doesn’t leave yours.

“So you’re a barista now.” He lightly smirks.

“I guess?” Moving to fill the cup, you wiggle your shoulders as a show of false indifference, but seeing Sukuna again after all this time has your nerves all on fire. It’s so embarrassing.

He looks just the way you remember. The feeling he invokes in you is indescribable, the best you can talk about is the way his loose tee hangs over his broad frame, strained tight at the chest and loose down his abdomen. He never really liked wearing tight, uncomfortable attire.

“Can I get your order?” You meekly ask.

“You know my order.”

Yeah you do.

So you lick you lips and click a few buttons on the glowing computer screen to fill out a chamomile tea and lets him wave his card at scanner. Routinely you hand him his receipt, he refuses, then you push the paper down the overflowing trash bag beside the scanner.

“Thank you for visiting us, Sir. Your drink will be available at the pick up counter.” You awkwardly chirp.

“Anything else you wanna say to me?” His gruff tone startles you.

“Uh, happy Sunday?”

He chuckles.

“No, off the record.”

It’s been a while since someone has used that term with you. Bittersweet.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Haha.” Scratching at your neck, you giggle nervously, eyeing the line that’s starting to grow behind Sukuna.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “Was expecting an apology in my inbox likeeee…a few weeks back, honestly.” He tilts his head.

Oh. You recoil, your work apron coming slightly loose with the action.

“Meet me at the park outside after your shift. I’ll be at the bench.”

Off he goes then after his ultimatum, leaving you frantically tying your apron and tending to the next customer.

---

The gold evening sun paints a graceful picture of the park when you arrive. Families with their baby strollers, picnics with couples lying on the grass and food scattered all over them, basking in the warm sun despite the chilly breeze.

Sukuna’s back is against you, seated on a wooden bench, the top of his head just adjacent with the sunny egg yolk in the sky. Not gonna lie, the entire scene it looks like an impressionism painting. Like a set out of a romcom movie, where the main characters are nearing their happy end.

You don’t assume the best-scenario-possible for yourself when you step closer towards the bench and circle around to sit beside Sukuna, leaving the seat in the middle empty. Looking down at your lap, your wrist are still slightly sticky from work. Must have missed a spot when you were washing up. Your work uniform is crumpled as if you’ve never ironed it out, but working an 8-hour shift seriously wears you down.

You look at him, slouching a little in defeat.

“I’m sorry.” The words leave your mouth so softly it almost gets drowned out by the gust of wind that tangles your hair, flapping it around your mouth as you try to pull it down your face , just to stop eating your own hair.

Sukuna looks up from his lap, his thumbs crossing over each other while he licks the inside of his cheek and puffs it up. Looking at you, then at the sunset, then at his lap again.

“Did you,” He gestures with his fingers, “What made you…” he exhales out a puff of air, “What made you quit journaling?”

“Uh..” Eyes glued to the arch of his nose bridge, you swallow carefully, afraid to shatter this moment of vulnerability you were both caught in. “I just, I figured it wasn’t good for me.”

Sukuna finally looks at you and smiles, a flash of his teeth slips out at the sharp corners of his lips.

“But you were damn good of a journalist. Risked everything and gave your absolute best to it.”

“Oh nonono, stop. I was an asshole, alright—” You cut him off with quick waves of your hand, embarrassment colouring your cheeks.

“Yeah but you were tenacious with informa—” His brows quirk with a smile hanging off his disgustingly handsome face, pointing his finger at you.

“Stop.” You cover your face with your palms.

He chuckles, and it echoes through your ears.

“Remember what I said?”

You peek between your fingers.

“Remember when I said you were ambitious? That you had a strong personality?”

You shyly nod, still hiding behind your palms.

“It applies even in the bad.” He flatly speaks, kissing his teeth at the revelation. “You did what you did, because you were ambitious, and you had drive, just as I said.”

Your lips part.

“And that’s precisely why I liked you. I fell for someone that I knew was going to break my heart in some ways, and I was willing to take up the consequences of my decision.” He breathes out.

The sun starting to set and dim, people leaving with their belongings, and you realized it was just you, and Sukuna in this park.

“I’m sorry-”

“Let me finish my piece.” Sukuna holds up his hand to cut you off, clearing his own throat and sniffling his nose that was starting to get clogged from the cold evening air.

“I meant it that night when I said I never wanted to see you ever again.” He rubs his nose with a hum, “But if you were to ever apologize to me, I would..” He inhales, “I would forgive you.”

“And I’m not a saint.” He adds on. “I’m a selfish man. I’m hedonistic and biased towards my own principles and what I think is right and wrong.”

Sukuna reaches out to grab your wrists, frowning at the residue stickiness, prying them apart so he could speak to you face to face.

“What I’m saying is, I still selfishly like a particularly terrible woman, and I see that she is now…an ambitious barista.” He smirks. “I’d like to give her another opportunity to take me out on a date.”

“Wowwwwwwww Mr Charming!” You giggle and push at his shoulders. “Did you just tell me to take you out on a date?” Laughter continue to ring out of you as you watch him animatedly nodding with an arrogant smile, crossing his arms in that cartoonish way that makes your heart burst with endearment.

“And hey! What’s so funny about being a barista? I’ll let you know that I’m the employee of the month!” Patting your chest proudly, you scold him with amusement, poking his cheek even as he resists your attacks.

“Come here.” Sukuna opens his arms and you dive into it, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“M sorry. I’m really sorry.” You nuzzle and purr into his shoulder, feeling his warm hands pat your back.

“Thanks for not publishing that article about my father. I knew you wouldn’t though.”

“I never will.” You quickly shake your head, hugging him tighter.

You shiver when you feel Sukuna’s hand slide down and cup your ass like its the most natural thing ever, and you pull away slightly to see a mischievous grin gracing his face.

“Are you free Saturday?” Your hands untangle from his neck and pull his ear, making him yelp ‘ow ow ow’ and squeeze your butt harder.

“Ow! Yes. I’m free, you horrible woman.” He sighs in relief when you let go, then kneads your ass absentmindedly when you smile widely at him.

“I’m gonna treat you to the besttt dessert in town!”

“Are you talking about your cake or cake cake?”

“Stupid pervert."

Finally cupping his joyful face, you squish your lips together into a kiss, ignoring how he’s complaining about you biting down at his lower lip. The evening sky had already turned blue and shimmering with stars as the both of you get engrossed in your kiss, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

You never thought you were stupid, nor did you think you were smart. But fuck was it stupid to give up your own income. You knew that you couldn't just divorce him immediately. You don't have much savings, nor any family here in Tokyo to pull you out the mud, but you’re 30, and its time to wake up from the fog and take matters in your own hands.

He left in the morning without so much as a goodbye, like the past 4 years. Its routine to wake up next to an empty bed and some pajamas on the floor that he couldn't be bothered to toss it in the laundry himself. Why would he? He has you, his wife-maid.

That morning, you did something different. You didn't pick up his laundry first, you picked up your phone. You scavenged for your old certificates and university degree and snapped a few photos. They’ve gone yellow and crinkly, the texture dusty  and sandpaper-like on your already roughened fingers. 

Facebook. Yup. A short paragraph would suffice. State your name, your qualification, your proof of certs, and.... a small sentence of urgency in the very, very final line of the post. As if you were ashamed about it. Ashamed about finally trying to find work at 30 years old after foolishly thinking your husband was going to love you forever. Ashamed that the only way you could get a job fast, and realistically without an interview, was tutoring. English, Chinese, or even Japanese. You offer the extra step to go to the address’s house to tutor, knowing damn well it can be  potentially dangerous and risky. But thats how people hear the quiet urgency in the lines. 

The message came quick in an hour, you’re surprised at this. 

Its a man with a company logo as his profile picture. You assume its a man due to this, the logo’s slightly off-centered and pixelated. Huh. 

“Hello. I hope to sign my nephew up for twice-a-week English tutoring. He is 17, and his finals are near. Please get back to me as soon as possible. I’ll pay you double your rate for your travel  expenses.”

This is too good to be true. You quickly reply.

“Ah, that is not necessary ! I’m completely fine with traveling. I accept it. May I have your address and preferred timing? As you can see from my post, I’m very flexible.”

Its not that you dont want the double pay. Oh, you want it bad. But its polite. Its courteous and subtly socially acceptable to refuse his offer. A tiny part of you hope he pushes it.

He does.

“*Attach screenshot of google maps with an address in the caption*” “This is my place. Take the double rate. It’s far. I linked a picture for reference as it’s easy to get lost on the way up.  Please refrain from using the short cut.”

Holy shit. This guy is either seriously loaded, or trolling you. The image he sent of google maps circle an area that you know you will never set foot on. Its for celebrities, billionaires, even royalty that might stay here for temporary stay. You can already see his house there, even if he didn’t zoom in. Its huge just from the top view, with a pool. You notice there is two roads. Both leads to his home, but one is a shortcut. You dont question it. You click on his profile.

Ryomen Sukuna, founder of ROG. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Oil and gas company. He owns it. Not sure about the full context, maybe the government has a hand in his business too, but hes definitely still earning a shit ton of money. You dont bother to scroll, knowing damn well all you’re gonna see is just company ad’s that he liked or reposted. 

You wonder he has a wife, but you shake your head as if to make the thought fall out your head like a broken piggy bank. Dangerous thought to think about. You reply him quickly.

“Noted! Please ref me your flexible days!” 

Shit, you accidentally typed ref instead of refer. Thats what not texting formally in years look like. Thats what habitually receiving “K” and “Ltr” does to you. Shame on you for having a certificate.

“My nephew is flexi on Wednesdays and Fridays aft. 6pm. You can wait for him at the lobby if you’re here early.”

Wait, he shortened his words too. Okay, seems hes not very uptight. Not sure if “flexi” is a common word to use for flexible.

Any how, Wednesday arrives. So do you after navigating the road. Gosh, his place is FAR. Half way up the hill, and you almost took the shortcut before you remembered his words and quickly asked the taxi driver reversed like a thief that was chickening out of a heist. You got there eventually, thankfully, not late. Just on the dot. You got out, and paid quite an amount for the fee. Not surprised. Thank god he pushed for double rates. 

A butler came to greet you, and you greeted him back just as politely, even though you were sure your face was flushed on the way here. He leads you into a big gate as it opens, making a mechanical whirring noise. Beside the main entryway, theres a huge garden on both sides of it. Gardeners plucking weed, cutting the round bushes into perfection. You chide yourself for feeling an urge to joke about how the bushes look like those balloon dogs that birthday clowns make for kids. Nothing is funny on a rich man’s turf. Especially when you’re taking from his pocket. Infront of you is.....the house. Yeah, the house. More like a...structure. Its grand, its big, but not in a castle like way. In a squares-stacking-squares, rectangle-stacking-rectangles, turned 90 degrees, 180 degrees, so-so kind of way.

You’re sure the pool is in the backyard, and you can guess thats  where the floor to ceiling windows are at. Oh, and maybe a rounded, sleek balcony to top it all off. The man who hired you was disgusting rich. IS disgustingly rich, its almost absurd that he lives here alone with his nephew. Nothing wrong with it, but what can you do with so much space, just two people and a butler?  Does it not get exhausting to walk from the dining hall and needing to pull up google maps in your own house and it says 500m away? 

Maybe thats why rich people are rich. They have no need to rush. So they just walk all day, you think. No sense of...urgency for survival.

Ironic considering you were super anxious about not being able to fit in old of your own formal dresses from years before. Thankfully it only took one harsh suck in your stomach for the zipper to zip up.

The butler leads you to a door, again, big rich door, but you spare yourself the awe. Because nothing can brace you for the man behind that door. You expected a ton of maids to greet you, or maybe a glimpse to the opulent interiors, but no.

It was a gorgeous man. Hot, man. The kind of man that you see on TV. Maybe he is already on tv, with his current status. He has short pink hair, neat, sharp, clean. Its not dyed. You can tell. Roots don’t lie. His face. Goodness. His cheekbones was strong, but not in a way that hollows his cheek too much, but it was tall , and it framed his eyes perfectly. He had red eyes, a little dark to see under artificial lighting of his home. There’s something off about his right eye. Not sure why you felt that way. Maybe it looked too soulless, maybe its the lighting.

His eyebrows were thick, arched high  in the end. God his nose. His nose was the most masculine part about him. It was hooked, very hooked.  You can tell its hooked even from the front, with a shadow of the bump area between his eyes. His lips pursed in a thin line.  Just a beautiful facial structure. You were so distracted by his face that you barely registered the tattoos. On the bridge of his nose, then arrows below his eye, into a connecting line down to his chin. Likes hes some kind of ritualistic summon. On top of all that, he was big. Bear big. Naturally big, by the way his height suited his physique. He can play like...evil Superman maybe. Evil corporate billionaire Superman. Wait, Batman maybe.

As if you didnt feel anymore stupid, you’re forced to snap out of your trance when he waves his left hand at you. His hand is big, his fingers are thick. Not only t-

“Excuse me?”

That does it.

it snaps you back.

He’s frowning abit now. Hes irritated, you can tell. Its the same look your shithead husband gives you when you make him dinner that he didn’t like. His tone sounded offended, like he was genuinely in disbelief that you were busy ignoring him and acting like he was invisible. Does he not know how dreamy he looked? Either ways, you gather yourself back from your daydreaming.

“A-ah, sorry. Was distracted by the place you have. It’s very beautiful.”. You cringe at yourself. Totally sounded like you were trying to flatter him or get overly friendly. 

“Ryomen.” His voice isn’t very deep. Its welcoming with a twinge of arrogance. Almost like hes used to greeting people, a business man he is.

“Nice to meet you.” You give him your name before he steps aside and guide you to the place. Its a big lobby, a big foyer maybe. Both works for you. You consider it rich people lingo if they describe their house that way. 

His back muscles are slightly rippling under his dress shirt as he walks. Its very hard to not look when the sound of steps and the very visible sight of him is the only thing thats triggering your senses now. You notice that his nape has a tattoo too, and it travels downwards, disappearing down his shirt collar. How far does it go? 

He smells good, not a very strong cologne, but crisp. His steps were firm. You almost bumped into him like a flustered teenager as he stopped before a table with a big bongsai tree in the middle. This was like, the “center point” of the house. Theres stairs leading up, then also down, then hallways to the left  and right. Its like a maze and you’re in the center with many entrances and exit points. He sighs, before he just.....shouted. Just in the air, no particular direction. 

“Yuji!” is all he shouted. Like he didn’t know where he was. You already caught on that “Yuji” is who you came to tutor today, and you were right.

On the right upper staircase, slapping footsteps echoed, then it got nearer, than he appeared. A young boy, also pink hair. But his features were softer, slightly different. A lot more cheery and welcoming. He’s fumbling with his wired earphones and plucking them out his ears, shoving it frantically into his pockets with a wide toothy smile. Ngaw...adorable. He quickly waves at his uncle before hastily shaking your hand. Enthusiastic. Tall also.

“Hello !!!!! I’m Yuji!”

“Boy, what did I tell you about using earpieces in the house? You can never hear shit. Someday a burglar will steal everything and you’d still have no fucking clue.”

Oh, hes mad.

Doubtful a burglar can steal anything here though. Hes gonna have to spend alot of money to get here. Then try to sneak past the gates and butler and security cams. Its useless even if he gets in. What’s he gonna steal? The super fucking huge tv? The super fucking huge chandelier? The police is gonna be here before he even figures out where are the rooms after mistaking the bathrooms as bedrooms since they’re so spacious.

“Sorry, Uncle...” The boy, Yuji, gave his uncle apologetic puppy eyes. Hes used to getting him mad it seems. Ryomen probably let him get away with it everytime too. The family dynamic is clear from one conversation, and you feel the nervousness in you lifting away slightly as he leaves you and Yuji to your own. Yuji enthusiastically guides you to a study room, but its more like...living room size, but as expected.

Yuji is...very talkative. You can see why Ryomen can never win with him. He introduces himself, then talks about his bad english grades. Side tracked, and talked about why his english is bad, talked about how he used to transfer school alot when he was younger. He proceeded to talk about why he transferred, then got abit emotional talking about his dad who passed. It was too much information. Too much for a first time meeting. You feel bad, but you can only nod. Its rude to give any input when you barely know their family tree. You assign him some exercise to do, and he still manages to have small talk. Poor kid probably have very little friends if hes so comfortable talking about family things to a stranger. Its shameful to even word it out loud as asians. You couldn’t even tell your family back home that your husband’s cheating on you, too afraid of the shame and embarassment of marrying a man like that. But Yuji’s completely has no concept of that asian shame, and just blurted everything out without you pushing any buttons.

So, you made a mental summary. Yuji’s dad is Ryomen’s twin. They were separated during birth due to custody battles between their parents, most likely over the company. They both wanted to raise a son that was capable to take over the company on their own terms, since their marriage was also falling apart. They both have separate family names. Itadori for the son that was taken to the father, Ryomen for the son that was taken to the mother. It seems that along the way, Yuji’s dad found more happiness in making a family on his own, and willingly pushed the heir title to Ryomen. Yuji’s dad never harbored competitive feelings towards Ryomen, he only wanted to connect with him as his twin brother, but Ryomen was raised cruel, only after Yuji’s dad and his wife passed in an accident, did he realize the cruelty of the situation. He took Yuji under his wing, didn’t change his family name. Yuji resembled his father, resembles Ryomen too, and he developed a soft spot for him over the years. Ryomen is too busy with the company to entertain any wishes to start a family. Its unspoken , but he considers Yuji as his own.

Hate that the most memorable memory you have is about Ryomen not having a girlfriend. So......hes just hooking up then? Men of his age has needs.

You suddenly frown. Reminds you of your husband, who’s also the reason of your predicament right now. Men who cant contain their lust, unfaithful men. But its not all too bad, could have got hired by a worse man who didnt pay you double.

The tutor session lasted for about two hours as you wrap up with Yuji. Firm footsteps approaching made you look up.

It’s Ryomen. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. More tattoos wrap around his wrist, like bands. Huh. His tattoos are consistent in a style, like a preset or something. 

“How’s the session?”

“It was great!!”

“Not you.”

“It was fairly okay. Yuji’s english primarily is not strong in spelling. He unconciously uses lingo and short forms.” You add in the last part lighthearted when you look at Yuji shyly scratching his nape.

“What short forms?” Ryomen gruffly asked. Doesn’t help that his arms are now crosssed, making his muscles bulge with veins.

“Gonna. Sorta. Kinda. Thinked. Hurted. Ain’t,” You replied , pausing before you finish, “...and ‘Bro’.” In the corner of your eye, Yuji cringes as he listens to you word out all his mistakes. 

“Bro, huh? You writing that down in your exam paper too, boy? You embarass me to no end.”

That hit a nerve. Its not Yuji’s, given the boyish sheepish giggle in response to his uncle. It hit your nerve. His tone was unpleasant to you. Everything reminds you of your husband. How he embarassed you. How he finds you embarassing enough to cheat on you. Suddenly, his words that was meant for Yuji, irked you. It felt targeted, even though he has no knowledge of your private situation. Your mood dulled as you stand up and put back all the materials into your tote bag. You shouldn’t be rushing home to see your husband, but its more suffocating to stay here in a presence of a man who has it all. Call it jealousy, call it envy, you don’t care. Just want to leave.

An embarassing sound escapes your mouth in a short “uh” when you feel a warm touch at your shoulder. He turns you slightly enough to not feeling invasive or forceful.

“Your pay for the month.”

You’re surpriseed when he presses down a neat envelope into your hand.

“But today is only the first sessi-”

“I’m not in the house most of the time. Would be inconvenient if I’m absent during the last week of the month.”

You dont argue. It make sense. Hes also rich, so he probably can’t care less about you scamming him later during the month of whatever. 

Plus, you’ll never betray Yuji in that way.  

Okay. Okay. The floor's a mess right now, one calculator, an ipad open about divorce legalizations and a scribbled paper of calculations. Oh and the envelop Ryomen paid you.

You charge 4000 yen per hour for tutoring, which means 2 hours session plus double rates is about 16K per visit. 

Twice a week is about 32K. Ryomen paid you 128K for the month.

You estimated the amount you needed for divorce. Highball, it's about 800K yen, earned across 6 and a half months. That includes everything for the divorce fees, even considering the pay for an attorney by half an hour.

You'll take a ticket to Kyoto to stay with your sister, Shoko. She'll understand your situation no doubt. You've always been close.

Now...that seems easy on paper. What about outside that? You're not sure how you're suppose to do all this behind your husband's back for 6 and a half months straight. Actually, maybe you can.

He's not home from 9-5. Barely greets you when hes home. Just eats, shower, and probably texting another woman while you lay beside him. Yeah, right, he wouldn't realize it before it hit him.

Problem is....you have a tiny bit of savings in the joint account that you share with him at the bank. It's about 500K yen. Its not alot, but...it's yours. It's yours. You're not going to let him spend it. Especially not on that other woman. Just gotta navigate around the bank without alerting him.

You curse when you hear the front door keys clinking loudly, added with some footsteps. The paper fights your grip as you scramble to put them in your totebag, but you manage to place them in properly as the room door yanks open.

"You didn't cook dinner tonight?" 

You stand up and dust your knees before quickly nodding. Oh ew. You didn't mean to nod like a yes man. You're not enthusiastic or particularly sorry he's not fed, but its a habit.

"Uh, yeah. I went out with my friends today. I bought some takeout from the restaurant we were at. It's still warm."

"What's the point of buying groceries if you're gonna just buy takeout?" 

Your husband's crossing his arms now. That frown on his face irritates you. It used to make you feel bad, makes you want to apologize for upsetting him. He's the breadwinner, so naturally it was given you do everything at home for him. 

Oh, but god forbid he eats one day of takeout. Ugh, you're going to have to mavigate around cooking for your husband and tutoring Yuji in secret.

"Sorry. It's just today. I'll make your favourite miso soup tomorrow? with grilled salmon?" You sound like you're cooing a baby, but he's a massive manchild, so it's not much different.

He sighs and walks off to the bathroom. Leaves a pile of his clothes on the way. Ugh. Is it so hard to just put the clothes away inside the laundry bag? The fucking socks that always are scattered close to the laundry bag because he either just removes it near the wall there, or he missed the throw and doesn't bother to pick it up again. 

Now he's probably in his shower fantasizing about that bitch he loves so much. 

it doesn't upset you, not really anymore. It motivates the fuck out of you. Ryomen's paying you enough for you to make this divorce quick and chop in 6 months.

Heading to bed yourself, you put your totebag inside your closet. It's not really hiding it. Just...putting it away. Your husband's too dumb and slow to notice. Tomorrows a new day. Tomorrow is Friday. Which means you're going over to Ryomen's place again.

It's silly really. This sudden excitement you have for adding something new into your routine. Tutoring Yuji. Being able to teach again. It makes you want to hum a tune. Feels like you're 20 again. 

You adjust the next two weeks. Waking up at the crack of dawn to clean the house, laundry, iron the clothes, before taking a taxi to Ryomen's house. Yuji always greets you with the same wide smile. Its boyish, its sincere. Sometimes it takes all your effort to refrain from ruffling his hair. 

You've learnt to buy takeouts and plate it properly, reheat, and pretend as if you're wiping down the stove when your husband returns. Sometimes you actually cook, but you save it for tomorrow's dinner. He doesn't notice this, obviously.

The money's piling up, and you slotted them into a new account you opened at the bank. Meanwhile, you've still been keeping tabs on your husbands in and outs. Theres a routine you memorized now.

Monday and Fridays, hes back late. He plays it off that Monday's he has OT, so he stays back, but theres always a lingering smell on his clothes that you rather not comment on. Friday's are his fun day with his colleague. He must take you for a fool. Or maybe he knows he's trapping you in this marriage already. Perhaps this is a he knows, she knows, we know, situation. 

Does he think you've given up on divorce because you're 30? Does he think you're too old to find love again at 30? Does he think you can't live without him? 

You'll show him. 

Another Friday night, another night of him dipping into bed at 2am. 

First, it was just a shrug. He's cheating on you. You know that already. But something triggers you tonight. Something ugly and raw. The silver band on your finger glints slightly in the dark, and you turn to face him.

"Where were you?"

Compelled by a bitter feeling in your gut, you blurted it out. It echoes in the room along with the sound of the AC. He doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't answer.

"I said where were you?"

The tone is loud now. Bitter. Resentful.

"Out with my colleagues, you know this."

Fuck off.

"Your colleagues wear Dior perfumes?"

That does it. He turns this time. An incredulous look on his face, as if exhausted by your questioning. You've become the nagging and insecure wife now.

"You don't even own anything Dior. What the fuck would you know?" He makes a filmsy gesture as he says this. 

"Then maybe you should buy me one. Ive run out of perfume."

"For what? You don't even go out or go to work."

The tension is simmering bad. Its boiling over. Good. Good, it should. You push it, sitting up on the bed.

"I do go out with my friends sometimes. You told me to stop working."

He sits up now, getting louder.

"I said i'd provide for you. All you do is just clean and cook. Whats so fucking hard? Now you want perfumes all of the sudden? What's next, a Coach bag?"

It's not about the fucking brand. It's not about it at all. You both know it, but he's playing dumb. Avoiding the question. You're uncertain why you're even starting this with him, knowing damn well he won't admit shit like the pussy that he is. You just wanted to argue. Make his day worse. Get him on edge.

"That's not what I fucking said. I'm not your maid. I'm your WIFE! I deserve gifts too! You stopped giving me gifts for years!"

You hate how your throat is constricting at every beat. Your nose feels itchy now, eyes starting to blur. It feels stupid to say these things. You shouldn't have to beg for shit like that. Even just a small chocolate would have made you happy at this point.

But she gets his full attention. She gets gifts. She gets everything from him. 

"I don't have fucking extra money just lying around! Do you know how fucking easy you have it?! You just cook and clean!"

Bullshit bullshit. 

"Then you stay home! I'll go work!"

"Fuck no! Go to sleep, you're crazy."

He flops back down on the bed and turns back to his side, determined to ignore you. You do the same, sniffling a little quietly so you don't let that bastard know he got to you.

"....And stop hanging around Nobara. She's instilling all these bullshit gold digging ideas into you."

The next Friday, Yuji's looking at you with that face that's pleading for a conversation as he writes. You're trying your best to discourage a conversation with him today, afraid your fire will blow over and burn him too. The kid is innocent. 

"Yuji. Page 20."

"Ms, have you seen the new-"

"Page 20, please."

You feel bad, but you're not in the mood right now. Yuji recognizes it, and finally quiets down for the next hour. His spelling and vocabulary genuinely getting better, and you section his next few homeworks to be extensive essay writing. 

Footsteps slap across the floor from outside, and Ryomen's body comes into your view first. 

"Boy, did you take my watch without my permission ag-  my bad."

He's shirtless. You can see a little of his massive bicep and tan line. He was walking with his head down, looking at his phone before realizing your presence in the study hall. With a quick apology, he reverses his steps to hide himself.

"Uncle, are you naked?" Yuji teases with a half chuckle.

"Not funny, Yuji." Ryomen's voice is a little exasperated. "I apologize, I forgot you were here."

He's speaking from behind the wall, its a little funny. You wish you could have seen his entire body though. At least one good thing would have happened to you.

"Ah, it's fine. We're just about to wrap up our session."

Just as you're standing, Yuji grabs your hand. Its firm. 

"Wait Miss, do you want to stay for dinner? It's late. Please?" 

He called you miss. Huh. A twinkle of hope grows within you. It sounds great. He must have forgotten you're married, while you're still wearing your ring. Such a Yuji mistake.

Surprise is an understatement. Is this attachment? 

Ryomen appears again, this time in a casual toose tee and sweatpants. 

Damn he looks good. Stop that.

"You should stay. If you want to."

Is it appropriate to ask a married woman to stay for dinner? Is it appropriate to stay for dinner as a private tutor?

Answer is no. 

But you nod anyways.

You're helplessly fixated on the way Ryomen peels prawn. His fingers are deft and deliberately slow. He doesn't rush, and you can tell the difference in how meticulously he does it. Regular people eat, he indulges. Honors the food.

You’re not supposed to notice the strength in his knuckles, the flex of his fingers, or the faint curl of his mouth when the shell gives way cleanly, but you do. He'd be perfect for a hand model, or just a model in general. 

Its a very contrasting imagery when he sits right next to Yuji, who is scarfing down his food. Understandable since he's a growing boy, and it makes you feel a little maternal towards him. 

The food is delicious. Expected since they have a private chef that prepares whatever Yuji or Ryomen requests early up in the morning. You're jealous, truthfully. Their chef gets paid to cook more than you cooking and cleaning for a cheater. You blink a little harder to forget about your husband in this little moment. This moment is for you, not to be sullied by him. You know you can't always let your husband's actions hold power over your emotions, you're better than that. But its hard to not be bitter.

Perhaps you were accidentally zoning out on Ryomen sucking his fingers clean, because he suddenly speaks, and interrupts your train of miserable thoughts.

"You want some?" He slightly raises the peeled prawn he has in his hands. The chili oil drips and glistens from the prawn to the plate. 

You freeze in embarrassment. Did he really ask you that infront of Yuji? He'd offer peeled prawn to a grown ass woman than his own nephew? Hes pampering the wrong person. Is he trying to be playful with Yuji, or earnest with you?

"Ah no thank you. I can peel my own prawn." You politely refused, which earns a confused dog face from Yuji. You can tell hes thinking why the hell you would give up a free offer, but the kid is clearly a little dense to understand professional mannerism telepathy. Clearly Yuji thinks you're a family friend by now.

"Why? You think my hands are dirty?" Ryomen tried to joked. Emphasize on tried. His voice is low and rasp enough to feel as if you're insinuating his hands are dirty and you won't take it. He smiles a bit though, just a tiny curve, with an eyebrow arched. Okay. You feel slightly threatened.

"No! of course not. It's just, ah, I'm...i can peel..." You cut yourself off with a breath.  "You know what, I'll take the prawns, thank you so much, Mr Ryomen." You say it in a rush, embarassed. Hastily stand up and hold up your plate for him to transfer two peeled prawn from his plate to yours.  Up close, his hands seem even larger. Real big. The breadth of his palms and the length of his fingers impossible not to notice, hovered briefly over your dish.

"...Sukuna is fine."

"Sorry?"

"You can just call me Sukuna. We're not that far apart in age. I'm only 37." He jokes again, lips quirks with the line, which earns a "You're pushing 40, Mr Ryoooomen." from Yuji.

You nod and smile at him, watching him side eye Yuji in a glare, which Yuji ignores and pretend his grains of rice is real interesting to study. 

Eating the prawns, you feel warmth. It's been a while since someone had peeled prawn for you. The last time was probably 7 years ago when your husband was still your boyfriend. He'd peel prawns and hammer crabs for you, all he does now is make you throw out the shells. Small gesture, big conflicting feelings. 

Crazy how much you romanticized everything your husband did. Maybe he wasn't even that good of a boyfriend before you were married. He's your first, and only boyfriend. No doubt, you were truly blinded by his perfunctory actions of love to win himself over a free maid for life. Probably the smartest and dumbest decision hes made in his life. 

It's just peeled prawn. The act of giving his peeled prawns to you is so stupidly intimate, because it's been too long. How pathetic. To be touched by such a platonic and minor gesture of peeled prawns. It's not even the bare minimum. It's friendly. 

You realize you're lost in thought again when Yuji pops a question about how you're going to return hom later. Taxi, of course. Just difficult to hail for one after 8pm, especially around a high end area like this. 

"Hey, let our butler drive you home!" Yuji perks up, nodding and whipping his head left to right to look at your reaction, then his uncles.

"Spare him. Toki always head to bed early to tidy up things in the morning." Sukuna replies Yuji, not looking up from his plate.

As if pausing, Sukuna raises his head for a moment and locks eyes with you.

"Shouldn't your husband pick you up? It's late." He asks, a bit of incredulity in his tone.

He's right, but slightly ignorant. Not everyone can afford cars. Especially when trains are the most common transport in Tokyo. Taxi's are real expensive, but its the only way to get to his place. However, he is right that your husband should be concerned about you. Unfortunately, your husband is probably busy picking up his other "wife".

"My...husband...doesn't have a car." You hesitate at the word husband, feeling bile coming up your throat. You debate to say further, tell him and Yuji, borderline strangers, about the half truth of your situation.

Sukuna caught on, quickly added. 

"That's not what I meant. I mean, your husband hasn't called you, it's already past 8pm." His elbows now resting on the edge of the marble table, fingers still sticky from the prawn.

You know what he meant. He's carefully prodding for an answer about your personal situation. A glimpse into your life. It's not professional for him to do so, but again, its not professional for you to accept a dinner with them. The line has already been crossed.

You can tell he's not the kind of man to be nosy, so...it must mean something. Right? 

"My husband's attention is somewhere else. Probably busy entertaining his...friend, or something." Your tone drops flat at the word "friend". 

Yuji doesn't catch this and keeps chattering. Sukuna does. An instant understanding in the way his jaw clenched for a moment, and he let out sound to clear his throat. Yuji shuts up.

"Entertaining, huh? What a jokester he is then."

"Who, me?? My friends call me that!" 

Yuji's reaction is killing you, triggers a soft chuckle out of you. Shit's not funny at all to Sukuna though.

"What are you laughing about?" Sukuna's voice is raised now, and it startles you abit. "Leave him." His words are final, like a verdict, even a hint of anger. Easy for hi to say. As if you could just, up and leave. Chop chop.

You know he's not mad at you, the anger aimed at your husband, and your seemingly slowness at removing yourself from your husband.

"I'm working on it, actually." You reply softly, meeting Sukuna's eyes. For a moment , his right eye once again feels a little less angry, less...expressive than his left. You blink, but the moment is gone.

Yuji's looking back and forth at you and Sukuna, feeling confused at being left out in a conversation he can't digest the context of. 

"You're financially dependent on him." He words it as a statement, but also a question. He gets it now. Wiping his hand with a piece of wet cloth, Sukuna clasps his large hands together, now leaning forward on the round marble table.

"...Yes, correct." Its growing uncomfortable how much he's prying, but you don't stop answering him. You wanted to be heard for once. Understood. 

A click goes of in Sukuna's head before he continues his line of questioning.

"How long?"

"Been roughly a year."

"How long did you know?"

"...8 months?"

"'Cuse me for being rude, but fuckin' hell."

You blink. He's slowly breaking away his formality. Cute. Uhh not cute. He has abit of a snaggle tooth as Sukuna scoffs. Cute. Yuji's given up on understanding and went to put the plates at the kitchen for the maids to wash.

"Why'd you only start this job one and a half month ago? Should have been the day you found out."

He's right. You can tell Sukuna's never been in love.

"I still loved him."

"Right."

"Bet he had signs before that, I'm sure." He added on.

Ouch. Wow. Okay. That hurt. Did he have to be so straightforward? As though cold bucket of water, that elegant and pristine image you have of Sukuna from your first meeting starts to fade. He's a real killer when it comes down to sugar coating. 

Yes. Your husband had signs that he didn't love you anymore. The gifts, anniversary, the sex, the everything  basically. You just fooled yourself long enough to give him an excuse that hes piled up with work.

Sukuna leans back on his chair and briefly looks away, a small smirk in the corner of his lips. It's not a mocking smirk, nor is it flirty. It's a smirk that suggests he's holding his tongue.

"You can say it, Sukuna." Feels weird to say his name for the first time. Feels like it rolls off easy but foreign. If his name was a sword, it'd be blunt.

"You wouldn't want to hear it. It's crude." He turns his head back, looking back at you. For once tonight, hes direct.

A tiny smile breaks from your lips. You'll take anything insulting about your husband right now. This conversation feels lighter now, akin to a juicy gossip over a mutual asshole you both hate.

He sits up straight slowly, a long inhale before pulling the trigger.

"Since you didn't leave for so long, means he must have had something way bigger to offer you then." He drags the 'way'.

Oh my god. He just...? That was so inappropriate.

You liked it. That's the kind of thing Nobara would say. Then you'd smack her arm to chide her, while laughing along.

"It's an average-sized offer, actually." You shoot back quickly.

A beat. 

Then you both burst out laughing. 

It's a freeing laugh. You throw your head back a little, while Sukuna opens his mouth wide and toothy, eyes crinkling at the corner and tilts his face downwards to laugh into the table. He laughs in a rich way. Like a "Hahaha" with no wheezing or coughs. But it's unrestrained, wide. Unguarded. The joke isn't even that funny. It's childish. It's crude. On brand for the type of jokes Sukuna would pop. Surely you both look insane, middle aged folks laughing over dick joke, but you're truly at that age where a joke like this can really make your day, considering your predicament.

He's really handsome. Painfully handsome. People use his face as reference for cosmestic surgery. Everything about him is so raw, so natural, despite his businessman status. He could be playing you like a fool for all you know, chatting you up like how he does billion-dollar contracts, but you don't care. Let him charm you. 

Slandering your husband with another person feels good. As though someone is siding with you during a disagreement.

You wipe your mirthful tears before adding , the laughter dying down as reality sinks back in.

"But no, we haven't...I mean, he already stopped celebrating our anniversary since 3 years ago."

He sobers up. Sukuna's expression tells you that he wants to know more, but he's trying to rack his brain for a more formal and indirect way to pry it out of you. You feed his curiosity.

"We've been together for 10 years."

"You're 30."

"And you're 37." 

He tilts his head at that, in a 'ehhh' nod. Noncommittal. Agree to disagree. His eyes squint a little with the motion.

Hes probably got a roster of ladies lining up for him though, so your witty clap back feels weaker in comparison to his.

"He's your only boyfriend."

"Yes."

"Why not cheat back?" 

You laugh a little.

"With who?" You eyebrows raise, amused.

Sukuna rolls his shoulders. 

"A better man. Or woman. No judgement."

"How open minded." You tease.

"Yeah well, you have to be. Your marriage is already a one-sided 'open' marriage."

Oh. That burns. Hes joking, but you got stung from that comment.

"Too much? Sorry."

"No, you're right. Needed someone to physically voice it out to motivate me more."

A beat.

"You should stay more often for dinner. House is always quiet. That boy will stop bothering me then."

Aw. He implied that he liked the conversation. The small talk. Makes you giddy. Wanted. Wanted to be talked to, to be acknowledged. Theres a vulnerability to it, hidden behind Yuji as his armour of excuse.

You kill the thought before you start acting like a teenage girl.

"I'll keep that in mind." You stand up, mentally preparing yourself for the cold night air you'll have to stand in to wait for a cab. 

Its a bait. You know it is. Sukuna is smart and kind enough to bite.

"I'll drive you." 

"Oh it's fine-"

"We're far past the formality. Come on"

You swallow. The way your name slides off his tongue is too quick, too unpracticed to be calculated, yet too smooth to be accidental. Easy. It’s easy, almost careless, the way he says it, and that ease chips away at your heart, the way a landslide chips off a cliffside, sudden and irreversible. Disastrous.

Beneath the debris lies something you’d thought you’d buried for good, hope. Not the reckless, dizzy hope of a thirty year old woman. It's the quiet, aching hope of someone starved for tenderness, a girl who doesn’t dare admit how badly you want to be taken care of. God knows if he's offering out of politeness, out of obligation. He probably is. Probably isn't. Once again you really don't care. Barely focusing on the massive garage he walks you to, eyes zeroing on the back of his head.

Your teeth bite down on your bottom lip before you can stop yourself. He thankfully doesn’t turn around to notice.

The conversation was just conversation. Truthfully, he could have let you freeze. Not his responsibility or problem. You're just Yuji's tutor, hes just a parent of your student. Yet you bonded over an inappropriate joke, about an inappropriate situation, over an inappropriate dinner that he invited you to stay for.

You give yourself permission. Just this once. You follow him, your steps are light, yet heavy with the weight of inevitably ending up home to face your husband.

The temperature in the car is low, sterile as you're both in his car, halfway back to your house. Theres a lingering awkwardness in the air, and you refuse to be the one to break the silence. You'd reckon you'll thank Sukuna for the ride and get out his car.

Foolishly, you really thought Sukuna would have striked up a conversation when you're in the car. He was friendly back in his mansion, and somehow he feels tighter, tenser in the car. As if you've done something wrong, as if you're inconveniencing him to drive you back. You don't show your twinge of insecurity and stubbornly glue your eyes to the outside world through his car window. Its actually pretty interesting, the way the lights blend together in the night city view.

You reach back home relatively fast, seeing the porch of your house coming to view. Theres a sour feeling in your gut when you notice that your husband's car outfront. Its not the car thats bothering you, it's the movement.

Your husband's car shakes, fogged up by the window. 

Its a fucking embarassing sight. You dare not to look at Sukuna beside you, knowing he's probably disgusted by the view. Humiliation keeps building within you as the both of you helplessly watch your husband's car shake and a hand braces on the foggy car window as leverage. 

Like a car crash in slow motion, the both of you can't look away from it. You don't want to get out of Sukuna's car to face the reality that your husband is fucking his mistress in his car at the front porch of your house, but you also don't want to stay in Sukuna's car and drown in the embarassment of watching your husband cheat on you, while anticipating a mean comment about it.

On cue, Sukuna breaks the silence with a confusing question.

"You jealous?"

What kind of...?

He has to be fucking with you. The surge of anger and confusion that rises within you is hot, fast. Its a simple question, but it gets under your skin, every single layer of nerves were touched, trampled on like dead leaves.

"You're asking if I'm jealous of his mistress? Is that really what you're asking, Sukuna?" Your tone comes out defensive, almost offended. Whipping your head to look at him, you don't find a smirk on his face however, and the brows that you had furrowed soften in contemplation. 

"Yes. I'm asking if you're jealous of her. He's clearly weak." He said, quite flatly, judging your husband's "stroke game", apparently.

Sukuna has a knack for saying inappropriate things in inappropriate times, but you resist the urge to snap at him. It doesn't matter how good your husband is at sex, Sukuna has the point flying over his head. It's about the fact that his betrayal has gone so far that he's not even hiding it anymore, doing it outside your shared house. But of course, his "stroke game" is the only thing Sukuna focuses on. You recall that you assumed hes never been in love, and he proves you right once again.

"You're so....you can be so insensitive, Sukuna. The major point you should be focusing on right now is how fucking ridiculous it is that my husband is fucking his mistress infront of MY house! Not..not his..stroke game or whatever."

"The major point here is that you should have divorced him way earlier."

"You think I don't know that? I'm trying—"

"I can help you with the legal stuff. I can 100% do you better too." He interrupts bluntly.

You blink.

"What?"

"I said, I can help you with the lawyers. Consider it as payment for tutoring Yuji." Before you can reply, he adds on, "and, I, can do you better." He emphasized the "do".

Almost in an instant, you looked away, cheeks burning. Theres no way he suggested to fuck you. For what? To prove a point. He's just trying to get in your panties. Douche bag move to use this timing. 

The neutral expression on Sukuna's face doesn't waver, pressuring you to give him an answer. It's a feverish situation. You, in Sukuna's car parked by your front porch, watching your husband cheat on you, while Sukuna pops a question that renders you speechless.

"You're such a child." The sentence stung, and you quickly rebut it.

"I am not!"

"You married the first guy who gave you attention at 20, got neglected on for more than 3 years or so before deciding to do something about divorce, and you're hesitating about cheating back?" It sounds cartoonish when he puts it all flatly like that.

"Cheating back doesn't give me some kind of high ground."

"Nor does not cheating give you any higher moral high ground. You're miserable." Again with the flat tone. It irks you bad, raking through your chest.

"You're just saying that so you could get in my pants!" You yell back. Before you can take it back from how egotistical that reply sounded, he doubled down.

"Yes. I do. You're attractive. Definitely doesn't deserved to be celibate for so many years over....that." He leans in closer over the center console of his car, putting up a lazy finger and points towards the shaky car that your husband's still in.

You fight the idiotic reflex to blush. He can be so blunt. It feels like somewhere, his business man ego and pride isn't just for his professional persona, its genuinely a part of his personality. Aggravating. Confident. Attractive.

"You been planning this?" You eye him close to a glare.

"Can't say I have." He smiles, his eyelids are half lidded, looking down at your sorry state.

"Be honest."

"I didn't. But the opportunity presents itself." He points a finger at the disheartening sight of your husband cheating on you again.

Getting a good look on him, it really wouldn't hurt to say yes. Hes a big guy. Really handsome. Just offered to help you settle divorce papers. What could possibly go wrong? Its too good to be true. You wonder if this is finally a good luck that's been piling up after years of being unloved. 

You're getting too ahead of yourself. Sukuna isn't going to make you feel loved. He's just trying to fuck you, that's all. For a night, that's all.  It's not going to make you feel better, it's not going to make this entire situation go away.

"Fine, y-yes"

Sukuna reverses his car almost instantly, maneuvering the gear shift in the palm of his hand.

"What about Yuji?" You nervously ask. The embarassment is catching up to you, realizing what you just agreed upon. He's really the devil.

"Don't worry 'bout him." He places an arm behind your car seat, looking back to reverse his car. A veined hand swirling the steering wheel.

"We're going to my penthouse instead. Just us." Theres a hint of anticipation in his tone now.

"Okay. At least he won't hear us."

"Embarrassed?" You can hear the smirk.

"It's decency, alright?"

"Scream all you like in my penthouse."

God. No one's coming to save you.

He's going to destroy you, no doubt about it. Because Sukuna didn't even wait til he unlocked his penthouse door before leaning down and grab your nape, all teeth knocking and tongue swirling, overwhelming you with just the start of a kiss.

Hooking one arm under your knees, he hoist you up, kept the kiss going, trying to tonguefuck your throat while his other hand fumbles with the lock and slams the door open. In a swift movement, he spins you around and pins you on the door, and you let out an embarrassing whimper, muffled against his mouth. Theres’ no time for embarassment, when his hand snakes down your waist, feeling the curve of your hip, squeezing your love handles once, before grabbing a handful of your ass.

"Grind. Come on, you know how." Between ragged breaths, Sukuna pats your ass a few times, encouraging you to grind and hump on his bulge. You obey. It's huge. His bulge matches the size of his frame, big, protruding, and pressing into your belly. Threatening to carve itself into you. You're panting, squirming against him. Everything's overheating, the throb of your own cunt, the twitch in his pants. 

Sukuna trails his tongue down your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses and sucks at the back of your ear, the spot where he knows it will drive you up the wall. It does, and you claw at his shirt, fisting the back of it until he groans and his hips buck, thrusting his bulge further into you. The friction is scorching, and you find yourself chasing the relieve, no doubt wetting your panties, and soaking it all over his sweatpants.

"Ohh s-shit. Fuck." Sukuna looks down at where you're helplessly grinding against his bulge like a cat in heat, and his grip on your ass tightens. You're sure its going to be red and raw by the time the night ends. 

"So fucking wet. All for me, fuck." You whine and bite your bottom lip, feeling Sukuna shove his hand under your skirt. Two fingers rub against your slit through your soaked panties, his eyes staring right into you, dark and half lidded. He rubs his fingers just over your clothed clit, and his lips curl into a smirk when your hips buck reflexively.

All thoughts of your husband fades into nothing when he carries you across the living room of his penthouse, striding to his bedroom. He gets there, throws you down on the bed unceremoniously, and pulls off his shirt in an impatient tug.

Runic-like tattoos are scrawled over his tanned skin. On his chest, his triceps and two more lines from his bulky abs in the middle, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants, accompanied by a pink happy trail. You don't mean to stare and stroke his ego, but its too late as he grabs your wrists and places them eagerly on his abs. 

"Don't be shy." He purred, leaning down and hovering over you, his body a looming shadow. You don't, and trails your hand down to feel all over his body. He's got a really nice physique, that's for sure. Bulky, hard and strong. It makes your thighs clench, the stickiness between them feels obscene.

"Want it rougher?" 

You're caught off guard by his question. You gulp. Earlier was gentle? Kissing you like he was starving, manhandling you, throwing you down was him being gentle? You look up at his face, hes still smirking, but the face hes making is telling you that his restraint is dangling on a very thin thread.

You can take it. You're not a virgin. This isn't your first time. Hell, you want to feel something. Something hot and passionate. Something to make you forget everything and be drunk off the moment.

"Yeah, harder please." Your reply comes out a little ragged, borderline pleading.

Like a dog thrown a bone and given permission to bite, Sukuna sits back on his haunches, a big grin gracing his handsome face. "Oookay." It's breathless, the way he said it. 

In a rough motion, he grabbed your shirt amidst your yelp, and ripped it apart into pieces, the pathetic fabric shaken off his hands as he dives down. His hand yanks up your bra, opening his mouth wide to suck and latch onto your breast.

"S-sukuna- A-ah!" You gasp, feeling his warm, wet tongue flick and lap over your nipple, the pain-pleasure of him nipping the hard bud with his lips. His hand comes up to grope your other breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple, letting you cry out in every twist and tug.

You made a bad decision to look down at him, only to find him already looking at you, his eyes half lidded, and mouth still working over your nipple. Your face reddens and flush, feeling so painfully turned on by the lewd sight. Moans and mewls continue to escape your lips, polluting his ears with your dirty noises.

"It’s been a while, huh?" Sukuna's words are muffled against your skin when his mouth pulls away from your breast with a wet pop, sloppily kissing down your ribcage, then your belly, stopping to lick into your navel, before stopping at your skirt.

"Hhng..." Hand clutching onto your out of place bra, you're sure you look like a debauched slut on his bed. You can only let out a pathetic whimper, watching him pull down your skirt in one go. He doesn't pull it down with your panties though, resorting to teasing you more.

You try to pull your panties down, but Sukuna swiftly grabs your wrist to stop you, a feral smirk on his face.

"Ah. Not yet. Wanna see you squirm." With that, his arms hook around your thighs, pulling them over his broad shoulders, and press his face dead center on your clothed pussy, pressing his tongue flat on your panties. It shocks you when his hot tongue makes contact with your clothed clit, swirling over it greedily and making a mess out of your underwear.

"P-please! Fuck!" Crying out loud and pleading doesn't work with Sukuna, ignoring your pleas and laps his tongue over your pussy lips through your panties. It's been so long, and the mere feeling of his tongue, paired with the texture of your panties, has you slightly squirting and bucking your hips into his face.

"You’ve been neglected huh? Wanna be licked and sucked so bad." He chuckles against your flesh when you twitch, his crude words clearly arousing you. He's so dirty, so raw and honest. You just want him to do something already.

Unable to stop yourself, you grab his hair and fists it in your hand, yanking his face right into your center. This time, he doesn't fight, and pulls your panties to the side, and really eats you out. He has you arching your back like a bow, blabbering "please" and "yes" like a chant. His experienced tongue flicks rapidly over your swollen clit, sucking it, then dipping down to lick your folds. The lewd wet sounds of slurping and licking echoes in the room, paired with your wanton moans. He shakes his head, letting his nose rub against your clit, his mouth and tongue vibrating against your pussy. Its so overwhelming, and you can feel yourself about to cum. You try to run from his mouth, but he has your thighs locked onto his grip.

Just when you're about to cum, he pulls away, and spits onto your pussy. The action is so fucking lewd, so possessive and it weirdly turns you on, and you feel a your body tense and tighten. Vision growing white, hands digging into his scalp, grinding yourself on his face.

"Fuck yes, o-oh yes!" You scream, squirt getting all over his face, Sukuna's hand slapping your clit repeatedly, prolonging your high.

You already looked fucked out when your back relaxes, slumping down into his bed. Your bra's shoved above your chest. Your hair fanning over his sheets. Corner of your mouth drooling. Your thighs are sticky and wet, shivering at the feeling of him pressing a final wet kiss on it before he crawls back up, a large hand grabbing your jaw and roughly press his lips down. 

With zero resistance, you let him plunder your mouth, your arms wrapping around his shoulder. Sukuna's freehand yanks his sweatpants down, kicking it away until his boxers remain, and slams down his bulge onto your bare pussy. You yelp, and he growls into the kiss, grinding his boxers over your core. He grinds hard, and the movement is rough enough to have you shaking in his arms. Precum already darkening his boxers, hes desperate to fuck you, you can tell. You want him to so bad.

"Last chance to back out," he growls, his words almost tumbling out from how fast he spoke. Hes so arrogant, so confident in his tone, that it commands you to immediately reply him. 

"Just fuck me please!" You're borderline crying, tears flowing down from how badly you want to get fucked. Years of unwilling celibacy has pushed you to this point of desperation to beg. Your husband can go to hell.

"This pussy's going to get fucked dumb," Sukuna snarls, shoving his boxers down and discarding it on the floor. He grabs your hips, and pulls you right onto his muscular thighs, his cock jutting out right above your cunt. Hes big. Thick and veiny, with a tattooed band over it, nestled between pink pubes. He teasingly slaps his cock on your clit a few times until you whine, then, he lines it up right at your entrance and bullies it all into your tight hole. A silent scream tears out your throat.

"F-fuck!" He bellows, collapsing forward and brace an arm beside your head, his other hand still gripping onto your hip, trying to ground himself to not rut into you like a beast before you can adjust. 

"T-t-too full-" You mewl, watching your belly bulge from the sheer size of him. "Too bad." He mocks you and shoves his cock even deeper, and you scratch at his back when the mushroom tip of his cock presses right onto that sweet spot deep inside you.

"That spot?" you can only nod when Sukuna asks, almost mockingly when he presses his palm down on the bulge on your belly. 

Sukuna starts slow, a few shallow, experimental thrust for your reactions before hes going full throttle, slamming into you at every go. Your moans and whimpers turn into strangled, choked sounds, every thrust cutting the sound off. He's going hard, rough and fast. Your heels dig into his lower back, the bed creaking and headboard slamming onto his wall. You scream when he angles his hips right at that gummy spot inside you repeatedly, abusing your sweetspot like a stimming button.

"Has he ever fucked you like this? Huh? Answer me." He growled, loud and commanding into your ear, his eyes lasering onto your face for a reply. You quickly shake your head out of thrill, but it's also honest.

"Use your words." He presses his hand down on your belly bulge.

"N-no! Never! Never s-so good!" You scream, his sweat starting to drip onto your chest.

"You been needing a nasty fuck like this, huh? Your pathetic husband can never do this shit. Not even to his side bitch." Its cruel, the way hes taunting and mocking you, but it only makes your pussy clench tighter around him, silently begging him to pound you harder into the mattress.

As if he knows, his hand grips your thighs, pushing it up and pressing it down to your chest, your knees beside your head. The new angle makes you scream louder, your breast bouncing at every slam of his hips, the wet sound of skin slapping echoing in your ears. 

"Sukuna! S-suku-! Hn! Ahgn!" Your moans are out of control, blabbering and incoherent, it makes him bite down on your neck, and you squirt all over his abs and thighs again.  He doesn't stop, letting your fluid splash against his pistoning hips.

The both of you stay in this position for a while, his face buried into your neck, panting and growling, your eyes rolled back and drooling while his hips never stop. You've cummed at least three times, already past the stage of overstimulation until his thrust finally gets harder, more erratic.

"You’re fine. You can take it." He whispers right into your ear, along with a hard thrust. You furiously shake your head, and he licks up a tear from your cheek. Another hard thrust, and it makes you moan louder, digging into his back with your nails. Another mean thrust, and it has him stuttering. It does something to you, making your ankles around his head lock him down tighter and your walls grip his cock like a vice. Thrilled and hot with lust, Sukuna reaches down with one of his hands, and rubs his fingers furiously over your clit, and you shake and fuck back to him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cums with a loud roar in your ear that you swear might ring your eardrums, Sukuna hilts and breaks you open right at your cervix, making your tongue roll out, eyes crossed and rolled back, panting. You look completely fucked silly, like a cock-drunk whore. Your belly feels swollen and full from the amount of hot cum he painted in your insides.

Delirious off the high, Sukuna pulls out and flips you over with no warning and pushes your face down into the pillow with his vicious grip. Thrusting his cock right back into your numb pussy, he jackhammers into you, holding the back of your neck down so you don’t move up the bed. The sight of your ass clapping against the front of his thighs has him loudly groaning, kneading and spanking it til its red and raw. All you can do is drool against his pillow and cum til your brain is mushed.

“Fuh-fuuuuuck-” Sukuna leans down and presses his chest onto your back like a weighted blanket, leaning all his heavy weight onto you as he grabs onto your hips, pulling you back with every thrust of his hips. His hot breath fans over the back of your ear, growls muffled into your shoulder before biting down. It’s been a while for Sukuna too, and having your tight cunt is making him lose his fucking mind. He cums again with a loud groan and bloats your womb with more of his white liquid.

“C-can’t-” Feeling him pull you up, you beg him, but Sukuna only silences you with sloppy kisses from your chest up to your neck, before turning you around again upright, curling his right arm around your neck to put you in a headlock. “Don’t pass out on me.” he lightly slaps your cheek a few times to chase away your drowsiness. The cold of the room was making it hard for you to sleep anyways while your nipples are so hard it hurts.

“Last one, alright? You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.” One last kiss to your hair and Sukuna’s cock slams into you again. With your pussy already used to the shape of his cock, it slips in easily. The orgasm you had was the longest, and the most violent one from this position. His arm almost choking you til asphyxiation, his freehand snaking to the front to rub your clit furiously, and his unfairly large cock hitting your cervix every other thrust.

“P-pleas-pleaseple-” You babble.

“O-oh fuck- fucked Yuji’s teacher so damn stupid-'“ Sukuna has the audacity to laugh at your hazy state and licks away your tears that rolled down your cheek, mocking you. “Should film this for your husband, fuck!” His hips get faster and faster until it stutters, an erratic rhythm before he finally cums for the last time. His cum leaks out of you after several rounds of dirty creampies.

Sukuna immediately catches you when you slump forward, exhausted to the bone.

“You alright? Dick didn’t kill you?”

“Shaddup.” You slur your words as you weakly hit him on the chest, watching him laugh. His earlier calmness seem to return, gently grabbing a wet towel to wipe you down. Limping in a hurry to go pee, Sukuna grabs you a glass of water, and you drink it on the toilet. It’s a little bit domestic and ridiculous, but you let it be. No idea where he still has leftover stamina in the tank, Sukuna carries you to his bed and dresses you in one of his sleep shirts, before brushing his teeth and joining you on his bed.

“Just so you know, I’m serious about helping you with your divorce.” Yawning like a satisfied cat after a fulfilling dinner, Sukuna pulls you into his warm embrace and speaks into your hair. It’s oddly affectionate. You’re afraid of the sudden rush of hope that fills you at his words. Hope is easily taken away as you grow older. Sukuna’s words are just so promising and so firm in it’s tone, it almost makes you feel safe.

“Mhm. Thank you.”

“After the divorce is out of the way, let’s go on a date.”

“What?”

“What?”

“A date?”

“A date. Yes. Sweet dreams.”

Every other day, without fail, like a Pokemon that’s waiting for your arrival, a pink haired student will be laid across one of the tables. Sometimes a bean bag in the library.

He’s like umm...what’s that big Pokemon...

Sprawled out on the desk that’s too small for him, his tattooed burly arms dangling off the front of it, his long legs stretching out under the desk. He looks properly like a lazy stray cat. You wonder if it's routine for him to sleep on campus. Doesn’t he have a dorm…?

He’s like…Snorlax.

Giggling under your breath, you approach him and poke him by the shoulder with your pen. Deja vu when he groggily wakes up with his brows furrowed and looks up at you with his crimson eyes.

“Oh hey, president...” He rubs his eyes, stretching his body like a cat before continuing, “We meet again.” He yawns.

It’s really unfair that he can look so good waking up. Most people wake up disorientated with puffy eyes and drool in the corner of their mouths. Raw, human. Ryomen Sukuna wakes up with fluffy hair and perfect everything else. Sun-kissed skin and a face that belongs to a shitty rom-com that you’d watch late at night with a giddy grin on your face. The sinews of his muscles fluidly move as he shifts.

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose.” You sigh with no ounce of irritation, hands on your hip,  “How do you manage to fall asleep in random classes?”

“Am I not allowed exhaustion?” He yawns again, before giving you a sleepy smile, tiny dimples appearing at the corner of his lips. You can’t quite make out the look in his eyes when he gives you a brief look over. “Maybe I am doing it on purpose.”

“I’ll fine you one of these days, I swear.” You roll your eyes in playful exasperation, watching him grab his bag and sling it over one shoulder, and make a move to leave the class with you. It’s always been like this for these past weeks. Find him, guide him to the exit to leave.

“It’s hard to catch you during normal school hours, president.” His voice trails behind you as you lead the way out the campus, checking the remaining classrooms if they have their facilities turned off.

“Mhm. Well, I’m pretty busy. You can always text me on the school app. I’m pretty accessible there.” 

“I want more access to you than an app.” 

“What?” You turn to him. You’re sure you heard a twinge of suggestiveness in it, but the look on his face is pretty neutral. Chiding yourself for being overly sensitive, you let him catch up to you in a few strides.

“I cannot be texting you about trivial matters on the school app, can I?” He adjusts his sling bag on his shoulder. You peek. He’s so broad.

“Why are you trying to text me anyways?” you pry, “You got stuff to settle with the council? You can let me know.” Reaching the lobby, you stop and turn around to face him. He has an unreadable expression on his face, contemplating something.

A beat passes before he replies.

“Well, I just never saw you at our rugby matches. You think the student council president would be present for a big sports event hosted by the school, but she’s nowhere to be found.” He shrugs a little as he speaks, but his stare at you seems to demand for a serious reasoning.

“Ah, well, I have things to handle during the rugby matches so…” He’s really good looking, so you find yourself looking away at the street outside, pretending you’re searching for your bus as you speak. No need to feed his ego even further or fluster yourself.

“What things?” he presses you for an answer, his eyes still locked onto yours even as you avoid eye contact.

“For instance, some of the students will take the chance of a big event to sneak off and smoke in the bathrooms. As you know, that’s prohibited.” You awkwardly answer him. It’s the first time anyone really cares about the details on the responsibilities you have to do. Feels tedious to explain.

Goosebumps prick as your skin at the way he slowly drags his eyes up and down your body, probably scrutinizing your outfit. You hope he is anyway. Why else would Ryomen Sukuna look you up and down?

“Hm.” He looks back up at your eyes. “It’s Naoya and his little buddies, isn’t it?”

You nod.

“I’ll handle it.” He breathes.

You blink once, then twice, then repeatedly for a dramatic effect.

“You’re so animated, president.” He smirks at the way you bat your eyes.

“Ah, uh, well…it’s just, I didn’t expect you to say you’ll handle it.” You quickly reply, hoping the redness of your cheeks doesn’t show. It’s the very first time someone has taken charge to lighten the burden on your shoulders. 

He laughs with a boyish charm, and pats his chest twice.

“I’m your man.” He puts out his fist, and you awkwardly bump your own against it. Tried not to think about the size difference between your hands as he left, giving you a lingering look. “I better see you at my Friday match. Front row.”

“Okay…?” You wave back at him, unsure of his sudden invite.

That was weird. 

Your dorm is always a little messy. Heading for a shower, you pick up some of the scattered clothes you have from this morning picking out an outfit, and place them on your bed. So much for being a responsible student council president.

In truth, you merely signed up for being president just so you can have a good resume when you graduate. You work pretty well under stress, you think, but student council president..? Phew. Almost lost your mind the first week you were appointed.

Aside from the endless regular weekly meetings, you have to endure some resentment and dislike from the students that break the rules. You wouldn’t say you’re quite strict, but sometimes it's hard to be lenient with frequent rule breakers. It’s pretty awkward. As a result, you’ve never been invited to a party before. Who wants to invite the usual party pooper to one anyways?

Surprisingly enough, Ryomen was one of the few “tough-looking” guys that didn’t really break rules. He’s quite…okay. You’ve never seen him smoke or vape, and he doesn’t fight people too. Perhaps his size was too intimidating for anyone to pick fights with. Even Naoya doesn’t linger around him. Too scared to poke the bear. 

Throughout half the year you’ve known him, Ryomen has never caused you any trouble, so you have a pretty good impression of him. 

You bite your inner cheek as you get comfortable after your shower and lay down on your bed, removing your clothes. Taking out your phone, you scroll on social media a bit, and land yourself right at Ryomen’s account.  Is it really stalking if you’re just trying to understand rugby?

There’s a few story highlights on his Instagram that shows off his rugby clips. It’s far more tenacious than you’ve anticipated. It’s like a brawl going down. Men tackling each other, running at full speeds and straining their calves to go for the ball. 

In one particular clip, Ryomen avoids 2 tackles, and aggressively pushes off another player, teeth bared with a black mouth guard. This is intense, jesus. How is he not scattered with scars aside from the one on his right eye? Does he also have some unique body genetics that lets him recover quickly, or is he made out of titanium? Either way, gruesome.

You spend the next 2 hours of your night arranging files and folders for an upcoming meeting and head to bed.

It’s an intriguing fact to realize that the days before the next rugby match on Friday, you do not see Ryomen after classes. He has broken his streak of sleeping after school. Okay. Interesting. 

Friday afternoon rolls around, the field is absolutely bombarded with people. Students, visiting outsiders, professors, everyone. To your utter shock, Naoya and his little gang are seated on the bleachers. He glares at you, but makes no move to leave his seat. Wonder what Ryomen said to him that had him behaving like a good boy. The student councils and professors have default seats by the front row, yours in the far left just close to the goal post. 

Fortunately, the weather is quite forgiving today, a chill breeze with the sun shining onto the field. It’s not unbearable. You’re thankful to have worn a cap. Professor Nanami and Higuruma give you a nod as you sit, in turn, you grant them a small sheepish smile. You turn to see Yuki smiling at you all excited.

“Whaaaaat?! You’re here!” Yuki opens her arms and gives you a big hug, making you laugh and choke as she nearly shakes you out of your seat. “You never attend events!”

Clearly your throat and patting down your chest, you shine Yuki an awkward smile. “Well uh, I don’t have troublemakers to watch, so I guess I’m here.” 

She gives your ass a playful smack and you yelp, hitting her on the arm back as she boisterously laughs. Yuki’s the ace in the women’s volleyball team, so she’s a pretty big deal like Sukuna as well, popular among the students. Her muscles are no joke too, just seconds ago she almost choked you out on a headlock. Pretty hot to be honest, but you try not to think about it and focus on the match.

There he is. Ryomen. Sprinting with cheers every step he takes. The crowd goes bollocks when he slides across the grass with the ball clutched to his chest. His teammates crowded him and helped him get up, patting him on the back, full of pride. Blood trickles down his nose and seeps under his lips and stains his mouth guard as he looks around. He’s looking for someone.

For a split second, your eyes meet, he turns, then does a double take and waves at you. Startled, your hand comes up by instinct, more of an acknowledgement than a wave back. He laughs at you and jogs back to his post.

“Did he just wave at you?” Nosy as ever, Yuki leans into your side.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I just waved back.”

“You know ‘im?” 

You pause at her question. You do know him, barely. Are you friends? Acquaintances? Student council president and a regular student that keeps falling asleep after classes? Does it count?

“Something like that? Somewhere…?” Making a hand gesture as if balancing something, an oafish smile gracing your face, your voice rising in pitch, in doubt.

“Okay notlikethat.” You quickly clarify things before Yuki’s wide smile breaks into something more. “I catch him sleeping after classes often.”

“Woah! Like sleeping with someone?”

“W-! What! No! God no! Just sleeping alone! Not that kind of sleeping! Yuki!” You scold her and she dodges your hit on her arm, putting her hands up in surrender.

“I’m just saying it sounded wrong man.”

“You and your dirty ass mind…” You roll your eyes, amused.

“Whaaaat? Can you blame me? Look at the guy.” Yuki wildly gestures at Ryomen who is tackling an opponent with a manic grin, his hand pinning their head down into the grass. He pushes it down further, and the man’s nose digs into the dirt. You swallow at his tenacity.

“Well, he’s fine. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Yuki rolls her eyes at your half-assed reply.

“He’s hot, admit it.”

“Okay, well,” putting your hands up in a neutral hand clasp, you shake your head, “He’s hot, yes, but, but,” you shush her before she starts up again, “Respectfully, not my cup of tea.”

“You’re lying.” Her deadpan reply is immediate, “Disrespectfully.”

The best you can do is nonchalantly shrug to play it off. Seriously, you’re not about to tell Yuki you have some sort of secret crush on the guy. You barely know him. He barely knows you. 

It’s true that it’s impossible to state that he’s objectively unattractive, plus, he's wildly out of your league. Ryomen Sukuna is destined for great things in his life. He’s just that-kinda-guy. Gonna marry a super intelligent beautiful lady. Like Amal Clooney. 

You’re just a student council president that’s barely keeping her grades above average, and pulls late nights just to sort files in order and proofread emails for spelling errors. Self aware enough, Ryomen and you, would never see eye to eye in a romantic context. Just no, impossible.

The match goes by relatively as quickly as time slips away, you find yourself responding to your president duty naturally, guiding students to exit the field, lecture a few that litter their garbage on the bleachers. A few of the students boo at you as they leave, grumbling with their own trash in their hands. Exasperated, there’s nothing much you can do but ignore them.

Yuki gives you a wink before she goes off with a girl under her arm, skipping away. Right, you forgot that people hook up on the regular. 

“Hey.”

You turn around and you’re met with Ryomen.

His face has some light cuts on it, probably from the grass. Sweatdrops slide down his face. One particular drop slides under his jaw and blitzes all the way down over his adams apple, soaking into his sweat-slicked rugby jersey. 

He clicks his fingers right in front of your face, causing you to flinch in embarrassment. He smirks when you crane your neck to look up at his face again.

“Yes?” Your meek voice isn’t exactly subtle.

“What do you think about the match?” 

“Uhh…” you falter, “It was great? I mean, shouldn’t I be asking you this? How do you feel after the match? Saw you hit the ground a couple of times.” You voice your concern.

“That’s the only thing you paid attention to? Me falling head first into the ground?” Ryomen clicks his tongue in annoyance, but there’s no heat behind it. “‘M fine. I got stamina. Could probably go again.”

“Right…” You nod.

A silence washes between you before the both of you move to the side to not block the flow of students filing out. Some of them gape at Ryomen as they pass. He’s a sight to see up close, you definitely agree on that.

His teammates pass by as well, giving Ryomen a pat on his back as they head to the locker room. You nod at Coach Toji when he passes as well. You’ve seen him around during bigger meetings from time to time, but he doesn’t care much about etiquette, so he usually excuses himself early.

“So…” You start.

“Are you always this awkward with casual conversation, president?” He laughs, and you’re unsure if he’s mocking you or teasing you.  

“Well, not really, I just,” you bite your bottom lip, “I guess I just don’t know what I can speak to you about. We’re not exactly best buddies.” That came out harsher than your brain could catch up to.

“You wound me, prez.” He feigns a stab to his heart, holding his hands over the left side of his chest. “Thought we knew a lot about each other.”

You have no idea what he’s even on. The only day to day interaction you get with him is speaking to him after his classes when you catch him sleeping. Where is his claim to “know a lot about each other”?

Upon your confused expression, Ryomen wipes his sweat with his shirt, riding up to expose a silver of his fleshy bulk near his v line. Unfortunately you realize the rumors are true. The hair down there is actually pink.

Your eyes snap back up to avoid him catching you in the act of ogling him.

“C’mon prez. I know so much about you. How can you know nothing about me?” 

“Ryomen, I-”

“You’re joking. Ryomen? You call me Ryomen?” Raising an eyebrow, Ryomen folds his arms over his chest, a hint of offence in his tone.

“Isn’t your name Ryomen Sukuna?”

“Yes it is,” he sighs, “Just call me Sukuna. Ryomen is too formal. Only my mother calls me that.” he grins cheekily, “Unless you got a thing for formality, I am open to that idea, maam.” He winks after the obvious innuendo, relishing in the way you firmly shake your head in panic.

Why does it feel like hes flirting with me?

“Sukuna is fine. Sukuna. Right. Uh…” Your surroundings are pretty much empty now, leaving both you and Sukuna in the echoing hallway to the exit. “I gotta run. I got things to settle.”

“What things?’

“President. President things.” 

Sukuna watches you speed walk towards the office with your file. He takes note of the curve of your nape, the little mole behind your ear.

This chasing thing is difficult.

Sukuna never had many obstacles in his life, there’s nothing in life that he couldn’t have or achieve, per se. 

He’s never had a problem with attention either, he gets them everywhere he goes. Can’t step foot outside without people asking for his number in an hour. He’s not lacking in that department.

However, most people are not interesting to him. No one is, actually. He hasn’t found someone that he was keen on holding a deep conversation with, nor has his heart beating erratically.  

Until, he meets a rather, what he would describe as an enigmatic individual, you. The student council president. Typically, stereotypically, student council presidents are strict, responsible and uptight. You do not fall in line, at all. Sukuna wasn’t planning to meet you that day, but as they say, love always comes in the most mysterious of ways. 

It was two summers ago, before Sukuna considered enrolling into Kyoto College, he booked for a campus tour. He managed to slot in the last final day available, and flew to Kyoto from Tokyo to pay the campus a visit. 

Now, he expected a professional to greet him. Maybe the instructor. Perhaps a lecturer. Definitely not a random puny woman that comes running full speed at him with papers folded under her arm. 

You had your glasses on then, probably got right out of bed and forgot your contact lens. Hands raised while you try to recover from running, panting like a dog before him. Your hair was shorter too.

“Sorry! Hi! Hi! Hello! You’re- are you- You’re Ryomen Sukuna? Ryomen? Yes?” 

Sukuna could only nod, watching you fumble frantically over the papers, only to curse under your breath when you realize you took your chemistry paper instead of the school pamphlet. 

“Sorry like- give me a moment. You’re like, the last person to tour the campus so there’s no one around and I had to come here on a sudden notice. The paper- ah just follow me, just follow me.”

To be honest, it was a pretty miserable tour. Very unprofessional of you.

You spent the entire tour pointing out some hidden flaws on the campus facilities, advising him to watch out for stuff and be careful. Who does this? Sukuna concludes that you can never be a salesman. Honest to a T. Don’t let you ever commit a crime, ever. Just spills everything under oath.

The cafeteria was a good vast, open space. Yet you dropped a complaint about how inconvenient it is when it snows and gets cold. The grass on the field were slightly overgrown, and you murmured something about the workers getting laid off prior to this.

“So here’s the gym. Equipments are alright, but best to not touch the few lower ones, those are rusted and dangerous.” Whispering, you point to a few dumbbells here and there, which Sukuna promptly just cocks his head to the side.

“Anything else you need, contact me, okay?” Then you left him with your email and that was it. That was the tour.

He’s pretty entertained, honestly.

He’s never met a girl this strange.

Plus, the campus is great. 

So, Sukuna finds an apartment, and moves to Kyoto for college. 

You’d think a guy like him is quite recognizable, but clearly you beg to differ. You did not remember him 3 months later after he enrolls, now he’s back to square one.

At first, he just wanted to chit chat. Small talk between acquaintances. Maybe to say “Hey, thanks for showing me around back then.” Didn’t count on you to forget him.

He wouldn’t call it stalking, he would just call it checking up on you. 

You’re easy to read, but hard to predict. Does that make sense? Sukuna thinks it doesn’t, but that’s the most “efficient” way to describe you.

He suspects you had OCD. Not the severe kind, but repetitive enough to be noticed if one paid attention. You didn’t like handling coins. The smell of the rusted metal will put you off, prompting you to slither hand sanitizer all over your hands, at least two to three times. You hated it when students paid their fines by coin. 

However, you didn’t enjoy perfumes either. He sees the way your nose twitches and you sneeze, hurrying to walk past an area that’s clouded with someone’s perfume. On the other hand, you like the smell of rain despite its humidity with acid. Which makes no sense. 

Often skipping lunch, you had a pretty alarming diet at that too. You would sometimes spit out food from a sudden loss of appetite, or if you just didn’t like the texture. There’s no pattern to it happening. It’s very much concerning, and Sukuna is sure you did not pick up on any subtle tips that he gave regarding your eating habits. Can’t blow his cover.

Sukuna really wants to take care of you. To everyone else, you’re the prestigious student council president. Always responsible and strict. To him, you’re a tired, tired girl who needs a break. He wants to loosen up your tie and kiss your jaw and tuck you under his arms.

Of course, only he notices the endearing parts of you. For one, you’re firm when you speak as the “president”, but super awkward in casual conversation. Sukuna reluctantly finds it charming.

You puff up your cheeks and look to the side when you’re complimented by someone. As if you’re not used to positive attention. He’s not sure whether to file this as “adorable” or “insecurity”. Either way, he jots it down mentally in his brain.

Still, you’re busy as hell. Too busy speed walking down hallways and passing files back and forth between professors and student council members, too busy to even notice someone is on your tail everyday.

All he can settle with is your daily check after classes, and he stays back to see you. 

Falling asleep wasn’t in his plan though. He didn’t expect you to take so long to go through the classes one by one, and you seem to not have a set routine on which class you’d check first. He best stays in one place.  

6 months in, he got greedy. Sukuna reckons he could start flirting with you a little. Start slow.

This chasing thing is difficult. Unexpectedly.

Firstly, you don’t seem to catch much of his flirtations. Sukuna can recognize rejection or refusal, but you’re completely off the radar. It’s like you’re too scatterbrained and awkward to even fully process the suggestive hints in his words. 

Second of all, you’re unfortunately right that the both of you do not know each other well, (one sidedly of course). There wasn’t going to be any way of seeing him in a romantic light if you weren’t already swayed by his charismatic appearance. 

Then again, it’d be pretty boring and predictable of you to have fallen head over heels for him over his appearance. Though Sukuna will admit that he had hoped it was an advantage for him.

He was terribly happy when you had voiced out one of your issues with Naoya. Quick to offer to resolve your issue and perhaps close the distance between you both by taking the chance to invite you to his rugby match.  He was happy you relied on him. Ease your burden a little.

Sukuna may or may not have threatened Naoya with a few words here and there, but it worked out on that part. The talking to you part? Still not much progress. You forgot to thank him for helping you, and scurried away after the match. So much for being helpful. 

Does it sound creepy to say that he’s been plotting on you? He’s never had a girlfriend before, Sukuna is not sure how this works. 

He’s fed up. He’s gotta push it more.

__________

“You’re inviting me to a party?” 

“Yeah, prez.” Gojo laughs at the way your face is twisted into a shocked expression, jaw agape and eyes almost popping out of your socket. Nothing like the pristine student council president he's heard of. 

“Why? This is my first time getting an invitation.” Furrowing your brows, you don’t register how you basically admitted that you’re a social loser to Gojo, looking down at your phone screen at the address he texted you.

“No reason. Just realized I never saw you at one of our parties, ya know? Just come. It’s chill, like we just drink and you know, party and stuff.” Gojo does a lazy hand gesture, watching you nod and keep your phone.

“Dress code?” You ask, confused when Gojo bursts into laughter.

“God prez, dress code?! Wear whatever you want!” He rubs a tear out of his eye, holding his stomach. “You’re free to wear your …college outfit too, prez.” He gestures at your big sweater and long ankle-length jeans.

“Way to call me lame.” You click your tongue, going red at his words, “I’m just asking if the party is white or black themed or anything themed.”

“I’m telling you prez, it’s a slumber party. It’s chill!” Gojo laughs it off and waves his hand as he leaves, letting you compose yourself back to your duty, ears aflame from the fool he made out of you.

Thankfully, Gojo did not lie to you. Everyone was wearing pajamas or comfortable casual wear when you arrived at the party. A few of the students gawked at you up and down, surprised by your presence, which you sheepishly greeted. 

The Airbnb was way more spacious than you had anticipated. Everything looked state-of-art. It’s a tad bit ridiculous that the high ceiling in the living room was made of glass that could be closed and opened with a switch of a button. Gojo definitely rented this. Guy’s made out of paper. He had the sky window open right now, the stars in the sky shining right down through, down at the unappreciative people who’s occupying the couch.

Besides the couple making out on the couch, Sukuna was there, holding a Nintendo controller in his hand. Gojo sat on the ground with a few beer cans, a controller in hand too. They’re competing in Super Smash Bros.

“You suck.”

“Shut up! You’re tryhard as fuck!”

Sneaking behind Sukuna on the couch, you watch as Kirby beats the crap out of Link with a combo. A few more hits and Gojo’s sailor mouth, Sukuna pumps his fist after Kirby sends Link flying down the platform in a smooth K.O.

Just as Gojo turns, intending to tackle Sukuna, he notices you behind Sukuna and he signals at you. Smiling to yourself, you nod and slam your hands down on Sukuna’s shoulders, making him shout by reflex and yank your hands towards him until your head lands right on his shoulders.

“President?”

Your eyes meet as Sukuna turns his face, his nose tip touching yours so intimately you fear he can feel your heartbeat under his fingertips that grasps firmly around your wrists.

“Ahaha. Surprise?” You tease lightly.

Swallowing, Sukuna quickly lets you go, and you straighten up and flashes him a small smile, trying to control your heartbeat. That was way too close for comfort.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” He smiles with a crooken grin.

“What? But you asked me to invite-?” Gojo quirks his brows, Sukuna throwing a pillow at him before he gets to finish his words.

“Gojo invited me.” You awkwardly nod, shifting leg to leg, occasionally darting your eyes at the winning screen on the tv.

“He did, did he?” Sukuna mumbles, dragging his eyes down your outfit. A black long sleeve shirt and comfortable sweatpants. You look ten times more vulnerable dressed like this, without your files and that whole president aura.

In turn, you look down at Sukuna sprawled on the couch too. He’s wearing a black tank with a dog tag necklace around his corded neck, and comfortable shorts. Is he not cold? The air conditioning is tuned up pretty low in here.

“Can I sit? Or is there no more space?” You ask, fingers pointing at the couch. The couple that was making out later left while you were engaged in the conversation.

“Yeah, yes. Sit.” Realizing something, Sukuna moves over to make space for you to sit beside him on the couch. Once again, he earns another silent eyebrow raise from Gojo. 

Instead of offering you the left side of the bigger space of the couch, Sukuna created a smaller space between him and the armrest, patting it down for you to sit between it. 

“Y’all are so irritating.” Gojo groans in quiet annoyance when you politely go ahead and sit between Sukuna’s beefy thighs and the armrest. You just slotted yourself in that cramp space. Sukuna is real slick.

Wiggling your legs to get more comfy, you place your hands demurely on your lap, unsure what to do other than repeatedly licking your lips. Sukuna nudges you with his elbow, you finally turn.

“So? You enjoying the party? Or are you hoping to go home as soon as possible?” Sukuna lightly teases with a smirk, stretching his arms back to rest on the back of the couch. His fingers graze your shoulder, but he doesn’t let it stay. Rather polite of him.

“I’m good, actually. I’m probably gonna get a drink to loosen up.”

“You can share mine.” Sukuna leans forward to grab his beer can from the small table in front, offering the can to your lips. Unable to resist his offer, you sip from the can, Sukuna tipping the can up for you as you sip. It’s weirdly intimate. He stops when you pull away, a drop of the beer running down your jaw. You stutter when his fingers casually wipe it from your jaw.

Sukuna’s pupils dilated a little hearing your stutter.

Did you just share saliva?

"Sorry, I’m not that good with alcohol.”

“That’s fine. I’m here.”

“Right…”

“You look good. Really good.”

“Thanks, um, It’s just pajamas. You too. Nice dog tag you got there.”

“Yeah?” He bites his lower lip, pulling up his dog tag necklace in his hands and leaning towards you to let you inspect it. It’s a carving of his name and his serial number when he used to serve in the army. You try to pay full attention to the necklace in attempt to ignore how close he’s getting into your personal space, and how it looks like you’re pulling him down towards you.

“You look delectable in anything, prez.”

“Haha, isn’t that an adjective you’d use for food?” You teasingly correct him.

“I know. Smart girl.”

Oh. Okay.

His eyes travel up and down you again, but this time bolder, making it obvious to you that he’s checking you out. The temperature between you seem to rise, and you’re not sure if its your ears or your squirming legs.

Your little crush on Sukuna is damn well about to boil over if he keeps flirting with you like this. How long can you hold out? You don’t know. But judging by how attractive and how charming he is, you’re sure he’s only flirting out due to his inebriated state.

"I’m not gonna lie prez, I’m about to-”

“Get over here, the two of you!”

Gojo’s boisterous cheer makes both of your heads snap to look at the crowd gathered at the kitchen island, filled with beer cans and paper cups. They’re playing truth or dare.

“You wanna play?”

“Sure, no harm.” The both of you get up to join them, Sukuna standing beside you at the kitchen. You try not to stiffen up when his arm goes around you to rest his palm on the counter beside you, effectively caging you in. You glance up at him to get a reaction, but he doesn’t look down to meet your gaze. Nonchalantly just caging you in below him. Okay.

Few of the others go first. Truth, who do you like? Dare, kiss the hottest person in the room. Goes around a big clockwise circle. Sukuna laughs when Gojo doesn’t get picked, but his laughter immediately dies when Gojo turns towards him, then, looks down at you.

“Truth or dare, president?” Gojo wiggles his eyebrows, dragging his words in a sing song voice.

“She doesn’t have to play.” Sukuna’s voice snarled a little, which makes you confused. Who is he to tell you what to do?

“No, I’ll play.” Not wanting to be a buzzkill, you agree. Sukuna doesn’t say anything more, but the tight knit of his eyebrows tells you enough.

"Dare."

Please don't let it be too bad.

"I dare ya toooo…." Gojo does a drumroll on his thighs, smirking mischievously as an idea comes into his mind. "Wear a clothing of my choice!"

"Huh? That's it?" A confused noise left your lips, followed by a few other confused murmurs from the others as well, except for Sukuna, who had his burly arms crossed over his chest.

"Gojo. Don't tell me you-"

"Aht aht, Sukuna. A dare is a dare. Come on prez!" Gojo pulls you up by your armpits, making you squirm a little from being ticklish, reluctantly following Gojo up to a room upstairs.

It's just a change of clothes, it'll probably just be something embarrassing.

You soon eat your words when you see the flimsy piece of clothing he pulls out of some gift bag.

"Was suppose to gift this to my ex months ago, but we broke up, sooo…guess you'll wear it better." Gojo cheekily smiles as he holds it up.

Oh my god.

__________

"Holy fucking shit."

Yuki's loud exclaimation turns all the heads as you descend the stairs shyly, fingers clutching the hem of your dress, pulling at it as you go. Jitter step by jitter step, the fabric barely covering down your crotch. Coming into the light, a bold boob window plain as day for everyone to see.

"A virgin killer sweater!"

Hoots and cheers sound out as everyone takes in their usually modest and controlled president in a flimsy sweater, whored out in the yarn textile, skin exposed to the cool air of the room. You meekly giggle as you stand there, getting surrounded by them, and give them a 360 turn. Soon as your bare back is shown, the crowd goes crazy and whistles again. it's fun to have some attention, it makes your cheeks flush.

"You're cold." Sukuna's voice and body cuts through the crowd, hand holding his leather jacket. He drapes it over you in a hurry despite your protest about it being fine.

"Uh, okay." Unsure why Sukuna insist on covering you up, you let the jacket hang over you, just as bummed out as everyone from his reaction. Sukuna doesn't look an ounce impressed or affected, in fact, he seems almost disturbed. Your heart drops a little, anxious about Sukuna perhaps seeing you differently now that he's seen you in this rather bold choice of clothing.

"I..I'm gonna go change back then." Bummed out, you turn to go back upstairs in a hurry, before Sukuna grabs your arm.

"No, I'm…" He clears his throat, "It’s just a stupid dare."

You furrow your brow.

"You don't have to wear this just because you got dared to. It's fine to say no. I don't want you to be in put into a situation that makes you uncomfortable." He continued, throat bobbing as if the words hurt to be pushed out of his throat. Your expression loosened up and softened at his consideration. Little did you know.

"Oh no, it's fine." You nervously wave your hand. "I..enjoy wearing this, it's sexy."

"…You enjoy it?" Sukuna's hand loosened.

"Yeah? I feel sexy. Is…is something wrong with that? I mean I don't usually wear stuff like this." Gesturing down at the provocative outfit, you feel a little self conscious now that Sukuna is staring at you differently. Something in his eye has shifted. "Is…something wrong?"

Sukuna licks his lips once, twice, before he swallows and gestures you to go upstairs. Confused, you head upstairs with Sukuna trailing behind you, his knuckles cracking as you ascend. You start to realize how beefy of a man Sukuna is, his shadow towering over you when you turn around and stop in front of a guestroom door. You lower his leather jacket and hug it towards your chest.

"President, I think you look," He looks right into your eyes, throat bobbing again as his throat muscles contract, "I think you look good as well. Sexy, I mean."

The rasp of his voice is not lost on you, and suddenly you're hyper aware of the situation you're caught in. Sukuna's masculinity overwhelms you in the silence, the faint sounds of laughter coming from below further isolating the both of you in your own private space. And he's looking right at you, his eyes never looked down at your boob window, which makes it even worse. As if he has something really important to say on the tip of his tongue. Then he blurted out that you were sexy. Your brain lags for a good moment before a blush creeps up on your cheek.

"Oh, thank you." Fidgeting with your sleeves, you reply, "I thought you hated it or something, judging by your reaction." Your hands bring up the leather jacket, wanting to return it to him, but he draws closer.

The distance between you cuts shorter and shorter as he leans in, forcing you to step back a few steps, your quiet squeak of surprise ignored, and your neck cranes backward until Sukuna's forehead gently touches on yours. Too shocked to say anything, the both of you allow your breaths and quickened heartbeat to take up the space between you until he finally speaks.

"I didn't want them looking at you like that." His whisper so soft, yet so pained against your nose bridge almost makes your knees shake. Yet you keep staring, letting Sukuna collect himself more before he speaks again.

“It’s rather childish of me to say this, but I didn’t like that everyone got to see how good you looked in…this.” His eyes finally trail down to your cleavage, and his hand comes up to hold the jacket further up to shield it from his own lecherous eyes. “I couldn’t stand it.”

Your whole world almost flips upside down. Is this really happening? Is Ryomen Sukuna seriously jealous? So boldly? It’s like he grows ten times more attractive after he reveals such a vulnerable information to you. You gape at him. His tan skin slightly flushed from the temperature of the hall way, his lips slightly parted in anticipation for your reply, and his thick physique. He’s so much more beefier than you remembered.

“Are you not going to say anything, president? I’m dying here.” Sukuna curls his spine even further lower, pressing more of his forehead on you, making you lean back on the door with a soft thud.

“I’m dying to feel your skin.” He sighs and closes his eyes with a wistful longing to his voice, his control fraying at the edges.

“Tell me to fuck off.”

“I- I don’t really want you to fuck off!” You blurt out in panic, afraid he’d leave. Sukuna gives a short laugh, you feel the goosebumps all over your skin.

“I just- I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no don’t.”

“Make up your mind, president. Or I’m going to kiss you right here.”

A beat.

“Kiss me.”

Warm and calloused, Sukuna’s hand wraps around your jaw and pulls it up, mushing your lips together without anymore hesitation. His free arm finally circles around you and press right into your bare back. The heat of his palm imprinting onto your shoulder blades, blitzing right down between your legs. His tongue is hot and desperate inside the cavern of your mouth, plundering it and trying to coat his saliva all over your teeth. Your hands fist his tank top, his metallic dog tag necklace pressing right into your throat. The leather jacket drops to the ground and forgotten.

“Wait-” You gasp for air, pushing at his chest lightly.

“For?” But he chases your lips right as your lips detach from his, lapping up the saliva string between you and diving in harder to tongue-fuck your throat. You whimper as his hand starts traveling downwards, his knuckle caressing the valley between your cleavage thanks to the virgin killer sweater.

“Can I?” Sukuna’s fingers lightly graze the side of your breast, and you breathlessly nod. Wasting no time, he defensively glances back to ensure no one saw you, before twisting the door knob and pulling you into the empty room. He locks the door and immediately spins you back around, pinning you his door with another heated kiss, his big hand slipping into the boob window and palming your boob.

“R-ryomen...” Sukuna ignores your embarassing whimper and trails his tongue down your chin, your jaw, then the left side of your neck. His panting breath resembles a dog in heat, lapping up your neck and shoulder until its covered with his saliva. All the while, his hand squeezes and his fingers pinch your hardened nipple until the pleasure gets too much and your hands dig into his shoulders.

“Open up.” His hand lowers down and skims across your upper thigh, prying your thighs open when it closes on reflex. You whine, his skin hot and rough as it trails up your thigh and pushing up your sweater, his fingers teasingly stopping when it touches your damp underwear. Using his short fingernails, Sukuna lightly scratches your poor clit over your fabric, watching your jaw fall open in pleasure.

“You’re wet.” He smiles.

“I- I know!” You whine out, choked.

Moaning helplessly into Sukuna’s tank top, he uses two thick fingers of his to rub lovingly over your drenched panties, pressing lightly into the middle before rubbing all the way up to your clothed clit, swollen and needy for his touch. Your hips buck when his fingers circle it, making Sukuna laugh darkly into your ear and speed up his fingers.

“Are you really going to cum from me rubbing you over your panties, president ?” Sukuna’s fingers doesn’t stop circling your panty-clad clit, adding his entire palm to cup your sex, while mockingly whisper into your right ear and licking around the shell. He found the mole at the back of your ear and starts to suck it, fingers under your sweater moving faster until you’re practically shaking from the edge of an orgasm.

“R-ryomen- plea-puh-pleaseplease-” Your arms shoot up to wrap tightly around his neck, almost sobbing into his chest as the orgasm overtakes you and your body goes tense in his arms, cumming hard from his hand furiously rubbing over your clothed sex. Nearing overstimulation, you weakly grab his wrist, noting how thick and veiny his forearm is. He pecks wet kisses up from your ear and back to your mouth, silencing your noises.

“Feel me.” Sukuna guides your hand up his tank top, letting you feel the bump and ridges of his bulky middle, the coarse happy trail leading down to the hardness in his shorts. He presses your hand into the tent in his shorts, and you softly gasp. He’s kinda big.

Trailing your hand further up, you give Sukuna a pleading look, holding the hem of his tank top. Cocking his head to the side with a smile, he obliges and pulls away his tank top, revealing his inked skin, covered in tribal-like tattoos. Sukun turns his body, the tattooes are fanned out all over his chest and his back, disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. The sudden intimacy of him allowing your fingers to run across his skin is surprising, yet not unwelcomed.

"I wanna kiss you."

Turning back around, you tiptoe and lean in for another kiss, and he lets it happen. Lips locked, Sukuna wraps his arms around your torso and pull you to sit on his lap while he sits on the edge of the bed. His hand travels to your thigh and slowly removes the sweater, eyes not leaving you as he discards the fabric on the floor. His big hands cup your breasts and squeezes it lightly, thumb playing with your nipple. His movements are slow enough to make you drowsy, feeling a little tired from the previous orgasm.

“You’re so soft.” He comments, running his hands down your body, cupping your rear and kneading your flesh. His shorts have a damp spot now, likely from his precum oozing out.

Shyly, you reach for his shorts, wanting to rip it off him already, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“President.”

“Wha-what’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“No,” He shakes his head, “Not that. I just want to clarify that this is serious for me.”

You look back up at his eyes and bump your nose tips together, rubbing the bridge of your nose on his affectionately. He returns the gesture until you both giggles like school kids.

“Me too. I…I really like you too, Ryomen.”

“I told you to call me Sukuna.”

“I know,” You laugh, “I’m doing it on purpose.”

“Haih. You sly girl.” Sukuna clicks his tongue with amusement, nuzzling into your neck and takes a big whiff, catching in the scent of your shampoo and slight musk of your skin. Your breathing picks up again as he lazily starts to suck hickeys into your neck, hand holding your nape to keep you still in case you squirm. Sukuna’s free hand slithers into your panties this time, feeling the fuzz of your pubic hair before dipping into your wet cunt, circling his fingers over your oversensitive clit.

“Sukuna, I’m a little sleepy…” Afraid to kill the mood, you whisper into his collarbone, feeling a little guilty that you want to stop before he gets to cum.

The wave of affection that washes over Sukuna is strong. The compulsion to take care of you is overriding his lust.

“That’s fine. You wanna sleep in this bed or head back to your own dorm?” He lowers his head to meet your eyes. He’s so gentle, it’s almost uncharacteristic of such a brute. And it’s all for you only. Your heart flutters a little as you point at his bed. “Alright. The party’s ending soon anyways. Best for you to stay with me.”

“Give me a minute.” He stands up and releases you, grabbing a damp towel from his bathroom and wiping any wetness left between your legs. Like a baby, you let him care for you, dress you in his big jersey and shorts, before gesturing at you to lay down on his bed. He arranges the pillow neatly around you and smooths it out. It’s almost routine like.

Sukuna makes a quick run to his bathroom to change out of his ruined shorts, his hard-on still prominent but dying down. It makes you feel warm and sweet that the sex wasn’t important to him. He comes back from the bathroom in sweatpants, and hop into his bed with you.

“Comfy?” He pulls the covers over the both of you. It smells like him.

“Very.” Your reply makes him wrap his arms around you, shifting his body until he finds a comfortable position to sleep in. Your face is positioned right in neck, and you cave into the urge to kiss his Adams apple, watching the muscle move when he chuckles.

“Sukuna.'“

“Yes?”

“We’re dating now, right?”

“We are. Unless you don’t want to?”

“No no! I do, I do want to.” Your arms hug around his beefy torso tighter, feeling like a needy woman, but thankfully Sukuna seems to not mind your clingy-ness. Tracing circles into your back, it’s quick to relax you in his arms.

“I didn’t think you liked me.”

“I more than like you. I was just waiting for the right time.” Sukuna’s raspy voice tickles your spine.

“What? Really?” You move your head up to meet his eyes, and he nods, yawning at the same time.

“I’ll tell you all about it in the morning, okay? Goodnight baby.” A furious blush paints your cheek at the sweet pet name, and you let yoursef doze off in Sukuna’s possessive hold. It feels surreal to call Sukuna your boyfriend, but life does have funny ways of putting two people together.