sukuna is the lord of the underworld, responsible for all the dead passing in from one world to his. he finds himself painfully bored, acting out on particularly malevolent souls and having to be the lord of a realm so lifeless. it’s the cherry on top when the terrifying goddess of harvest decides to call him useless — that’s when, he decides to act.
when he sees you in the field of flowers, entertained by nymphs who weave flowers into a crown on your head, he is taken aback by how gentle you seem. you smile at the sunshine and the nymphs and the way that life seems to unfurl at your touch. he’s only more startled when you cruelly lash out at a nymph who was spying on you for your mother, the goddess of harvest.
he decides that perhaps, you’d be good leverage to get some standing in the mortal realm. he abducts you, uncharacteristically deterred by your tears and your screams to be let free.
you’re cold to him in the underworld, and he finds it amusing. you refuse his food, his water, and spend your day crafting ominous looking vines that only fascinate him more. nobody’s ever created life in the underworld, and with each day, you start to see the change in sukuna.
he teases you mercilessly, meddling around your things and always waiting for your reactions. he personally arranges for your outfits and even makes sure your favorite dishes are at every meal. when you finally allow yourself to get close to him, he saves you from the jealous souls vying for his attention.
and perhaps he fell for you too. your smile, the easy laughter you always brought to him, and the way your hands always seemed to hold his heart, even when you weren’t near him.
when he offers you a pomegranate, an unspoken relic of his affections, he is surprised when you agree. he feels your lips, soft and plush brush his fingers as he feeds you the seeds, and sukuna decides right then that he’d fight heaven and earth if it meant he’d have you.
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atsumu is snuggled up to you on the couch while you frantically type away at your laptop. on the tv in front of you are all the highlights of the recent volleyball tournament — a far cry from the pages and pages of information that you kept adding to.
your classes had finals this week, and in the midst of putting all the final touches on your papers, you’d barely had time to give your boyfriend any of the affectionate love you always treated him to (and it was showing).
atsumu wrapped his arm tighter around yours, brown eyes fluttering up from beneath his lashes to meet yours.
“angelllll” he whined, gently pushing your laptop to the nearby cushion, “give me a kiss. ya’ haven’t given me anythin’ in so long.”
“just a minute,” you sigh, gently running your finger across his cheek. “can i at least put the last sentence on this paper.”
he pouts huffily, and so enamored by your boyfriend, you lean in to press your lips to his. they were soft and comforting in the way that they always were and you felt better instantly.
atsumu smiles cheekily after you pull away.
“another one please.”
“tsumu!”
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹OSAMU MIYA
osamu was teaching you how to bake after you’d admitted that you needed a lot more practice using an oven before you’d ever feel comfortable cooking in front of others.
luckily, he was there, your apron clad knight in shining armor (a chefs hat) to cheesily teach you the ropes of one of his favorite pasttimes.
“okay, now what?” you asked, hands dusted in flour as you looked to the bowl in front of you. you’d done a great job getting the ingredients into the bowl, but some of the batter had splattered slightly onto the countertop while mixing.
osamu smirks smugly, casing you in against the countertop and leaning in just inches from your face.
“look at that. yer givin’ me such a mess to clean up.” he smiles and you think you might just melt from how warm the look in his eyes is. “this requires a price.”
you gulped nervously, all too cognizant of how close he was. “anything.”
“give me a kiss,” he whispers, and your lips are on his almost instantly. he pulls you close and you taste the faintest dusting of sugar on his lips. you pull him even closer, until you hear a thud.
“what was that?” you asked, pulling away.
osamu laughs, pointing to your feet. “the flour! ya’ knocked it over klutz. guess i must be that good of a kisser.”
“shut up,” you grin.
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ OIKAWA TOORU
oikawa tooru is on his way to a sports banquet and you’re his date. he stands nervously at your doorstep, looking dapper in a tux that he took days deciding on. he’s picked a tie that compliments the rosiness of his skin, and taps his foot nervously.
you open the door to greet him with a wide smile, and oikawa thinks that his heart is about to jump out of his chest. you look perfect. the outfit you chose complimented your features perfectly, and for a moment, oikawa is so stunned that he can’t even speak.
“tooru,” you beam at him with your widest smile, and he thinks he’s going to become a puddle on the floor. he enters your place, hands nervously shaking around the index cards he’s prepared for todays speech and the fact that he was lucky enough to score you as his date.
“are you nervous?” you ask, catching the shakiness of his hands. however handsome and composed he seemed on the outside, you could always tell when he needed some reassurance.
“a bit,” he confessed. “i have to be the best speech giver for people to pay attention. i’m just not sure if i can.”
you stride over to him, adjusting his tie a bit and patting his cheek affectionately. “you’re magnetic tooru. you’ll be just fine.”
he looks at you earnestly, brown eyes filled with fondness. “can i kiss the jitters out?”
you nod with a laugh and press your lips to his, enveloped in his passionate embrace. his lips keep finding yours over and over, and he pulls away to gasp for air.
“feel better?” you asked, lips a tad swollen from his kiss.
“i could use another one,” he smirks.
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ IWAIZUMI HAJIME
iwaizumi hajime had invited you out on an impromptu picnic. the weather at your university had just gotten so much better, and in the spirit of enjoying nature, he’d invited you outside (promising you could bounce any questions off of him if you needed to study).
you found yourself under a beautiful tree, filled with flowers that were soft to the touch. hajime filled a basket with all your favorite snacks and drinks.
it was the perfect excursion, and with the sun warming the air around you and the brisk breeze, you could almost say that it was the perfect day.
iwaizumi pulls you into his side, and the two of you look out into the field together. his arm is wrapped around your waist and you can feel the warmth of him seeping through your shirt.
“this is nice,” you sigh contently, feeding iwaizumi a strawberry. he smiles genuinely, and you think your heart will burst.
“you know what would make this better? a kiss.” he jokes cheekily, only to have you nodding eagerly to press your lips to his.
it’s sweet and juicy from that strawberry, and you can feel his happiness radiate through the way he holds you close. when you pull away, he’s grinning like you strung the stars.
too enamored by the handsome boy in front of you, you lean in to kiss him again.
nanami kento is standing at a wedding. he’s dressed in a dapper suit, fitted and tailored to the contours of his muscular frame — a product of constant dedication and jujitsu sorcery. he’s exchanged his usual glasses for a fresh set of sunglasses that you picked out for him.
he’s at a seat near the altar, watching his old workplace friend stifle tears while he waits for his bride to emerge on the other side. he recalls the way you messily tied his tie and swept his hair aside, swearing that it was just your attempt to get him ready to look stunning in pictures.
he can almost conjure the image of you in front of him, face scrunched up in the cute confused way he loved as you attempted to smooth him out.
“screw your stupid ties,” you huffed, pouting at him in the way that always melted his heart. “they’re too…twisty.”
he hears the bridal fanfare erupt into the venue as his friends bride walks down the aisle. he can smell the scent of the rose petals as they’re thrown about by the toddlers excitedly.
the bride herself seems radiant, and when he takes a glance at his friend, the tears have already started to run down his face.
he paused to picture it then — you walking down the aisle with flowers in your hands. you with that smile he treasured so much, making your way towards him. you and your infectious love that he’d receive at the edge of the altar and seal with a kiss.
sukuna is one of the most respected and talented fashion designers globally. there is no other word for his designs except simply and utterly exquisite. each and every piece he introduces to the runway is perfection, dark and seductive and angelic in every possible way.
sukuna is known for being picky with his models — they have to suit his vision of what each piece is meant to stand for. every model he’s hired has always been on an incredibly tight and professional contract to avoid them taking advantage of the fame he’d introduce them to.
but then there’s you. he sees you while he’s undercover at the model casting, and you’re ethereal. he’d always considered himself a dark designer, but upon seeing your face, he considered kneeling at your feet and serving the light. he hired you immediately: you were more than just his model—you were his muse.
he found every possible way to tailor the collection to your tastes. he added many subtler details meant to accentuate your features, and always lingered a little too close to you when fitting. there was something so beautifully pure and inspiring about your presence that set his mind and heart ablaze.
and you? you were always starstruck by sukuna’s designs. just when you thought they couldn’t get any better, he’d come in beaming adorably showing you all the new things he’d came up with.
somewhere along the line, he fell for you. he wanted a morning where he’d wake up with you by his side to fuel his very mind. you did too, obsessed with the way sukuna made you his entire world. but why would your boss like you like that?
as soon as you finished your first runway show of the season, fashion critics deemed it the most successful collection of all time. sukuna ran up to you, beaming, and right then, you think you could kiss him.
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gojo satoru was rarely surprised when people did weird things around him.
people smoked at frat parties? didn’t care. got drunk off their ass and ran around campus half naked? even he’s done that before.
he thinks he’s seen every possible weird thing there was to see so far. even yesterday, he watched geto slow waltz with the hot dog mascot that was marching around their lecture hall.
the one thing he hasn’t seen yet has him reeling. you’re standing in front of him, hands crossed and adorable serious expression on your face that he wants to kiss off.
“we’re done satoru.”
he laughs.
“you’re cute,” he says, moving to ruffle your hair.
you dodge back, and mid smirk, he realizes something incredibly weird.
you were serious.
he stood back, not even having time to process before you moved to stand towards him. somewhere in the span of you keeping super close and him checking you out, you’d pushed him down onto the nearest chair and made your best attempt at staring into his soul.
“i’m done with this arrangement,” you said. “i’m not going to waste my time making out with you when i have way better things to be doing.”
you almost scoff at your own words. lately anytime you’ve been alone, all you can think about is his stupid lips. or those hands. or—
you stop yourself right there.
satoru looks up at you, and he seems more confused than you’ve ever seen him.
“it’s not my performance.” he says matter of fact, even though his eyes make it seem like a question. “even last night you really liked the—”
“enough,” you sighed, “not your toy. leave me alone. don’t text. cool? cool.”
you began to turn around and walk away, trying to avoid the obvious lump in your throat or the fogginess that seemed to creep into your vision.
you knew getting involved with gojo satoru was a mistake. you’d heard the rumors, heard the way that girls flocked and cried once their hearts were broken.
unfortunately, one look at this man’s hair and his electric eyes had you falling into his arms. you tried to justify it. he was a great conversationalist. his thoughts were interesting. you liked hearing him talk.
you liked the way he yapped after your lips were swollen.
it was just the fact that as you let yourself fall for him, it became all too obvious that he would never feel it back. to him, you were a fun time. a good distraction.
he was more than that to you.
“y/n!” he yelled, getting up from the chair. “why so suddenly?”
“because,” you mumbled, “it’ll take you all of one hour to replace me.”
you leave him alone in the room pondering his thoughts as you leave to ponder yours.
•••
if satoru was nothing else, he was determined. you’d just gotten back to your dorm, shutting the door and slumping onto the floor before you heard the the three telltale knocks to know he was outside.
“go away,” you yelled. “we’re done here.”
“open the damn door,” he sighed, “or else its opening by force.”
“what the?” you begin, getting up just as he slides into the room.
“you’re too mad to lock it,” he smirks, and you hate how he’s right.
“why are you here?”
“because,” he says slowly, walking over to where you stand. he brushes the hair from your cheeks and tucks it behind your ears in a gesture that’s far too tender for a….whatever this is. “i can’t just let my favorite kisser walk away.”
all the anticipation you had crashed to the floor, and you gestured to the door. “nice. i don’t have time for this. find someone else.”
gojo laughs, tossing himself onto your bed, “man. for someone so smart you can be kind of stupid you know.”
“leave.” you said, trying to seem as stern as possible.
he sighs long and drawn out before pulling you in by the waist and holding your gaze. you can feel his breath fan onto your face and the way his fingertips are on bare skin.
you can hardly stop the heat rising to your cheeks before he whispers.
“you’re dense.”
“what the fuck??” you grimace, trying to put some space between you.
satoru sighs. “do you need me to spell it out for you?”
you raise a brow. “what?”
he groans frustratedly before pressing his lips to yours. they’re soft and plush and move against yours with a reverence that they’ve never spelled out before. when he pulls away, he stares into your soul.
“i can’t replace you. not in an hour. not in years.”
you laugh and push him away. “that’s smooth. now leave. i have a midterm.”
gojo smiles in the shitty cocky way that has your heart squeezing against its will. “ohhhh. why didn’t you just say that. call me when you get your A. we’ll celebrate.”
you watch him glide out of your room and toss you a wink before you sink into your pillows and scream.
it wasn’t in his nature to seek it out. his solitude gave him everything he ever wanted — stability, and an undeniable sense of strength.
when he didn’t want solitude, he had his pick of anyone he wanted at the the university to join him bedside. everyone from yorozu to even the nerdiest people on campus wanted a chance to feel his silk sheets on their skin. they wanted a chance to feel his famous hands and the way they’d make them feel things they’d never felt before.
which is precisely why your lack of interest in him when you were assigned to a group project was shocking.
“you heard me?” his voice came out annoyed as he looked at you, sweetly typing notes into your laptop. “you handle a majority of this presentation. i’ll deliver it and get us a perfect score. you’re only needed for the busy work.”
you only hummed amusedly, shifting your gaze back to where he sat. you offered him none of the admiration he got from everyone else.
he was ryomen sukuna. he was a god in the sheets, an academic wizard. he was the epitomy of success at university.
so then why did you not care for him at all?
“i’ve delegated tasks based on what i’ve discerned you’re good at. you handle this half and i’ll handle the other. we’ll meet 3 days before presentation to rehearse.”
you rose from your seat, tossing him a casual smirk. “i will be the one getting us a perfect grade on this project. later sukuna.”
sukuna was shocked—so shocked that he barely registered the dreamy looks from the others in class. the way they pined for his partnership (in a group hopefully — he didn’t do love).
something about you has him wondering if your lips would look nicer swollen from kisses rather than smirking triumphantly at him.
