Obert

you would’ve expected him to dye it black. something dramatic. something that matched the rest of him.

with all the stories yuji had told you about sukuna being some kind of hidden softie, you almost started to wonder if you were talking about the same person.

“i’m serious,” yuji had insisted one afternoon, sprawled across his bed while you sat cross-legged on the floor. “he just doesn’t show it to people.”

you raised a brow. “people? or you?”

yuji only grinned. “like that time in middle school, when those third years wouldn’t leave me alone.”

you remembered that story.

apparently, a group of older boys had cornered yuji behind the gym. and sukuna showed up, not because yuji called him but because as yuji says he has that 'older brother instinct'.

“he didn’t even touch them,” yuji had said proudly. “he just asked if they were done. they literally apologized. to me.”

you blinked at him. “that’s not sweet. that’s terrifying.”

“yeah, but he walked me home after,” yuji argued. “and he bought me ice cream. he pretended it was because he wanted some, but he doesn’t even like vanilla.”

you had rolled your eyes.

“and then,” yuji continued, undeterred, “there was that time i got sick before finals? like, really sick. i had a fever and everything.”

sukuna had skipped school to stay home. made soup from scratch. forced yuji to take medicine on schedule. sat at the edge of his bed the entire night because yuji kept shivering.

“he kept checking my temperature every hour,” yuji said, softer now. “and when i woke up in the morning, he was still there. he looked like shit, but he was still there.”

you snorted. “you’re telling me that grumpy, scowling man spoon-fed you soup?”

“he said if i didn’t eat he’d ‘pry my jaw open himself,’” yuji admitted. “but yeah. basically.”

and then there was the third story; the one yuji always told with a sheepish laugh.

“okay, and that one time,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “when i said i wanted to quit track.”

yuji had come home frustrated, convinced he wasn’t improving fast enough. sukuna had listened, actually listened, before flicking him in the forehead.

“you’re not a quitter,” he’d said bluntly. “you’re impatient.”

and then, the next morning, sukuna had shown up at the field at six a.m.

to train with him, in winter.

“he hates mornings,” yuji emphasized. “like, genuinely despises them. but he ran laps with me. every day. for three weeks.”

you had stared at him after that one, arms crossed.

all of it sounded… cute.

in theory.

but every time you saw sukuna in person leaning in a doorway with that bored, predatory gaze, black nails tapping against his phone, tattoos stretching when he crossed his arms; you simply could not reconcile the image.

you mean to tell me that man is a sweetheart?

nope, absolutely not.

yuji could keep his bedtime-story version of sukuna.

weekends at yuji’s had started to feel routine in the best way — shoes kicked off by the door, snacks scattered across the coffee table, textbooks open but rarely respected. the four of you rotated between pretending to study and actually getting distracted every five minutes.

today was supposed to be productive.

“i really don’t understand this term…” you muttered, pressing your fingers to your temples like you could physically massage the information into your brain. the words on the page blurred together, academic jargon twisting into nonsense the longer you stared at it.

megumi leaned closer, calm and patient as ever. he nudged your hand aside gently and pointed to the paragraph. “you’re overcomplicating it. don’t read it the way the book phrases it,” he said, voice low and steady. “explain it to yourself in simpler terms. what’s it actually trying to say?”

you frowned, listening as he reworded it, breaking the concept down piece by piece. he was good at this; making dense material sound almost manageable.

a loud groan shattered the fragile concentration.

“nerds,” nobara announced dramatically, flopping across the couch like a disgruntled cat. “stop being boring and play mario kart with us before i lose my mind.”

yuji popped up beside her, already holding two controllers, grin wide and mischievous. “c’mon, you’ve been staring at that page for like twenty minutes. that’s unhealthy.”

“i’m stuck on this chapter,” you argued, glancing helplessly at megumi as if he might shield you from temptation. “i can’t get my head around it— maybe later—”

“ughhh,” nobara dragged the sound out as if you’d personally offended her. “you have, what, four days until your exam? one game won’t kill you. relax a little.”

yuji wiggled a controller in your direction, teasing, sing-song. “you knooow you want to~”

you exhaled through your nose, already feeling your resolve crumble. “fine. one game,” you conceded, pushing yourself up and heading toward the couch.

nobara shot megumi a look. he didn’t even glance up from his book.

“i’ll pass,” he said simply, flipping a page.

“this,” nobara declared, pointing at him accusingly, “is why people don’t invite you to parties, megs.”

“pretty sure it’s because they’re afraid he’ll knock someone’s ass out,” you added dryly, settling into the couch.

“that too,” yuji agreed cheerfully.

megumi didn’t rise to it. “you three are enough chaos,” he murmured. “statistically, adding more variables would only worsen the outcome.”

“listen to him,” nobara scoffed. “he thinks we’re a science experiment.”

“you kind of are,” megumi replied without missing a beat.

you barely had time to laugh before a new voice slipped into the room.

“is that so?”

you turned.

sukuna was slouched against the doorway at first, then moving closer, folding himself over the back of the couch with lazy confidence. he wore a black tank top that clung to his frame, tattoos winding down his toned arms in sharp, deliberate lines. black-painted nails tapped idly against the couch fabric as crimson eyes flicked over the group.

and then, briefly, over you.

your spine went rigid.

“can i join?” he asked, though it didn’t really sound like a question. more like a challenge.

yuji lit up instantly,he held out a controller. “of course, big bro! get in here.”

sukuna took it without breaking eye contact with the screen. “don’t cry when you lose,” he said lazily, voice edged with amusement.

nobara straightened, competitive spark igniting. “please. more people for me to absolutely destroy.”

he huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. “confidence. i’ll enjoy crushing that.”

yuji grinned, already shifting over and patting the empty space beside him. “c’mon, sit here—”

but sukuna didn’t move toward yuji.

instead, he adjusted the controller in his hands and walked around the couch with unhurried steps... and then he was lowering himself onto the cushion beside you. very beside you, likeeeee close enough that his thigh pressed against yours the moment he settled.

holy fucking shit.

yuji blinked, then snickered deciding to turn to the screen and set up the game.

nobara’s eyes flicked between you and sukuna, interest sharpening, but she said nothing. just smirked knowingly and turned back to the screen.

and you?

you were suddenly hyperaware of everything.

the heat radiating off him. the faint scent of something clean but distinctly him. the way his black-painted nails contrasted against the bright plastic of the controller. he leaned back casually, spreading his legs without a second thought, broad shoulders relaxed, posture loose and claiming.

his knee brushed yours and stayed there.

you, meanwhile, were sitting ramrod straight, spine stiff like someone had slid a metal rod down your back. your hands gripped the controller a little too tightly, knuckles paling.

calm down! it’s just proximity.

“you always sit like that?” his voice murmured beside you, low enough that it didn’t carry to the others.

you swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “like what?”

“like you’re about to be executed.”

heat crawled up your neck. “i’m not.”

“hm.” his knee nudged yours lightly, “could’ve fooled me.”

you forced yourself to relax, or at least pretended to. sinking back into the couch by a fraction. it only made everything worze. his arm stretched along the back of the couch, fingers lazily draped just behind your shoulder. he occupied space like it belonged to him. you, meanwhile, felt like you were borrowing air.

the race began in a burst of color and sound, and nobara and yuji immediately fell into their usual chaos.

“don’t you dare— yuji!”

“i didn’t even touch you!”

“you absolutely did, you liar—”

but with sukuna added to the mix, the dynamic shifted fast. he wasn’t loud about it. didn’t whoop or gloat. he just… dominated.

sharp turns taken flawlessly. boosts timed perfectly. he drifted like he’d been born with a controller in his hand. within seconds he’d blown past both of them, leaving nobara spluttering in outrage.

“oh my god, are you serious right now?”

yuji shouted, “bro! stop targeting me!”

sukuna muttered something under his breath, low and dry. “if you can’t keep up, that’s not my problem.”

“that’s so messed up!” yuji laughed anyway.

you, on the other hand, were in last.

which was humiliating, because you were usually decent at this. but your focus was shot to hell. every time sukuna shifted beside you, every brush of fabric or skin, your brain short-circuited for half a second too long.

“you’re falling behind,” he commented mildly, eyes still on the screen.

“i can see that,” you muttered.

“hm.” there was amusement in the sound. “thought you were going to win.”

you gritted your teeth and focused.

second round.

you forced yourself to breathe, to tune everything else out. slowly, muscle memory kicked in and your turns sharpened and timing improved.

you overtook yuji.

“hey!” he protested. “since when are you good again?”

“always,” you shot back automatically.

up ahead, sukuna was still in first.

of course he was. then you saw the blue shell rotating in his item slot. his camera angle shifted briefly, panning behind him. fucking hell.

you braced yourself, already imagining the explosion, the inevitable humiliation of getting knocked out just as you caught up— and then he fired.

but not backward, rather foward.

the blue shell screamed ahead, locked onto nobara in first after she’d briefly stolen the lead during the chaos. it detonated spectacularly. “you absolute—!” she shrieked, cursing with impressive creativity as her character spun out.

and sukuna… slowed down? just slightly.

your character surged forward, overtaking him and claiming the first place over the finish line. “ha!” you shouted, adrenaline surging. “in your fucking face!”

without thinking you turned and pointed directly at sukuna, grin wide, triumphant and reckless.

the room went quiet for half a beat. ice-cold sweat slid down your spine.

for a split second, you were convinced you’d signed your own death warrant.

he looked up at you and met your wide, poorly-concealed panic with a slow raised brow. crimson eyes glinting with something unreadable.

and then he laughed.

not the arrogant, taunting laugh you expected. it slipped out of him unexpectedly, warm enough that he had to cough lightly into his fist to cover it, shoulders shifting with the motion. his eyes never left your face.

you were still pointing at him, still frozen in your little victory pose.

and now, staring back at him like a confused dog trying to process a new command, head tilting slightly to the side as if changing the angle might help you understand what was happening.

that only made him chuckle again, quieter this time.

“god,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “you’re adorable.”

your brain short-circuited. “…huh?”

before you could process it, he rose from the couch in one smooth motion. he unfolded to his full height in front of you, broad shoulders casting a faint shadow as he towered over where you still sat clutching the controller.

then he extended his hand. and you, brilliant genius that you were, shut your eyes, slightly flinching. it made him pause, a slight crease forming between his brows.

you felt fingers against your cheek.

warm.

calloused.

pinching?

your eyes flew open.

sukuna was standing there, expression unreadable except for the faint curve tugging at his mouth, his fingers gently squeezing your cheek and wiggling it side to side like you were something mildly amusing he’d picked up off a shelf.

“i said,” he repeated, voice low and almost thoughtful, “you’re adorable.”

you blinked at him.

he studied your stunned expression for half a second longer, then let out another quiet chuckle before releasing your cheek.

the spot tingled where he’d touched you. without another word, he turned and walked off, hands sliding into his pockets as casually as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of the room.

the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall.

silence swallowed the living room.

“huuuuuuuuuuuuuuh?!” nobara’s shriek pierced the air like a siren.