#tyygr

these three nights were a different kind of hell. his mind refuses to shut up— flashing images of your kiss-bitten lips— the feeling of those same lips against his— your hands on his neck— your fingers trailing and tugging on his hair— all he could think about was you, you, you. 

sukuna isn't a man who gets sentimental over a person. he's not someone who yearns for one's presence and he's definitely not a person who wishes something from a specific person when there are many others who can fill that same position— like the kiss you've shared. a single make-out session that he could probably get from every girl on campus is messing with his head— why can't he get you out of his mind? is it because you caught him by surprise? it wasn't the first time that the girl made the first move on him— he wasn't short on women who throw themselves at him. but that was the first time he didn't expect it. that must be it. he’s simply still under shock. no way you managed to crawl into his heart or whatever with a single initiated kiss. 

that conclusion bites him in the ass almost instantly when he spots you across campus— his eyes are drawn to your figure before his mind can even comprehend that it's indeed you. well this certainly is a nice way to start his monday morning. it’s like in those cheesy romance movies— every other noise seems to be drawn out by his brain as he watches you. it’s almost like you're walking in slow motion. the sunlight hits your face, illuminating you, wrapping you in a gold hue. even though you linger in the back of his mind, your features are blurred and in need of a refreshment. he can’t help but wonder what part of you he might have forgotten or missed. the soft wind blows through your hair— he can't tear his eyes away. 

“yo”, he hears toji from beside him, “you good?”

sukuna looks at him for a second and just grunts as an answer— already searching for you again. the single heartbeat he spent looking elsewhere felt wrong— he catches you just as you enter your department building. 

you slip inside, leaving his line of sight, and sukuna feels something in him drop— sharp and quiet. as if you've purposefully left him behind, wanting. as if he's been denied something he didn't remember asking for. 

his jaw clenches. 

he tears his eyes away from the empty space a moment too late. 

letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, sukuna starts walking toward his class, leaving toji behind without a goodbye. 

unaware that you've been already spotted by the man of your nightmares— and your dreams— you're still walking through the halls with a grip on your bag too tight and an expression that could scare away anyone except the man it's supposed to scare off. 

your jaw is tightly clenched— afraid that a single vocal exhale could uncover the lie that didn't even come from you.

your weekend wasn't any better. you feel like you're on the walk of shame and every single  one of your fantasies is being projected on a wall you cannot see. every peek that someone throws your way feels like they know you went up to sukuna and kissed him— then went home and thought about him day and night with your hands between your thighs— and that you're now actively hiding from him because he still thinks you're mute. 

oh god. they're all looking at you with disgusted faces. some people are whispering amongst themselves. is it about you? do they know? are they making fun of you? 

everyone knows you're not mute and they will tell sukuna and he’ll kill you for lying to him and having the audacity to hump him—

no. you can survive this. 

sukuna has probably already forgotten about that whole ordeal— right? there's no way that he'd even rethink those seven minutes— yeah. even if you'll probably get off on that memory for a little longer than you'd like to admit— he won't spare you a glance when you walk past him. 

you've heard about him. who hasn’t? his reputation isn't built on lies and mere gossip— it's built on warnings. built on the fact that he doesn't hesitate in putting people in their place, which is underneath his feet. 

never the same girl twice— never staying longer than a night. sweet talking till he gets what he wants— never talking again after that. girls who chase him for a single night— girls who are probably better than you— experienced, outgoing, able to hold a conversation— girls who might have a chance. those seven minutes were your only chance at feeling him against your lips and you grasped that chance— you shouldn't get your hopes up for something more.

that doesn't mean you'll stop avoiding him though—

.

the following days, sukuna finds himself subconsciously taking the long route to class— or to the library— anywhere that just happens to pass through your department building. more often than he’d ever care to admit.

he tells himself it’s nothing.

it’s not intentional. 

he was just in need of... a change in scenery. 

just a different route. different hallways. different noise. different people.

but somehow his feet keep making the same turn, slowing near the same entrance he saw you last, lingering a second too long. his eyes drift before he can stop them, scanning without meaning to— at least, that’s what he insists.

he isn’t looking for you.

he’s just… observant.

ever since the night in that damn closet, something feels slightly unresolved— and sukuna tells himself that he doesn’t like unfinished business. 

it’s coincidence that his chest tightens for half a second whenever he thinks he might see you rounding the corner.

so when he finally catches a glimpse of you through the thick crowd of people, he ignores the frantic beating of his heart, and he tells himself he only looked for a second longer to confirm that the disruption you have caused is insignificant. that whatever unfinished business he thought about has finally settled. 

but it hasn’t. 

and it’s irritating that he wants more than a glimpse of you. 

.

your streak of avoiding sukuna is broken by shoko who begged you to join her in the library. you were already comfortable in your dorm and celebrating another victory of managing to stay out of sukunas way. at least you caught on the moral of the day, never celebrate too early. 

nearing the library, you were met with the devastating realization that this is the worst possible time of walking around campus, which was swarmed with people. a mix of tired individuals heading home while others are rushing to their evening classes. people were streaming by in both directions. is it too late to turn around? you really don't want to risk running into sukuna— but turning around now would be too embarrassing. you can't stop and act like someone is calling so you can “correct” your route either because that would attract unnecessary attention toward you— 

whatever. you try convincing yourself that you're overreacting. what are the chances that you'll run into him? you've survived a whole week! there's no way you'll lose now. just— go along, deep breaths. It's okay. 

it was indeed not okay and you had every right to overreact because the next group that turned the corner had you contemplating your friendship with shoko. why the actual fuck did she say you were fucking mute back then— why the fuck did you not only fucking agree on going to that fucking party but also fucking agree on playing that fucking game— and why the fuck did you agree on fucking meeting her at the fucking library— 

you didn't have the chance to overuse the word fuck anymore because— while your brain was running overtime with your monolog you were also doing your best at looking anywhere but into sukunas direction— your monolog was interrupted by the excessive amount of laughter from the group which your ears somehow managed to pick up over everything else. and although you had already convinced yourself that the colors and ridges of your shoes were the most fascinating sight of today, your head still perked up and turned to the direction of laughter. 

locking eyes with sukuna crumbled your conviction about your footwear since there couldn't be a more fascinating sight than his lickable face. no wonder you humped him like a bitch in heat because let's be real. who wouldn't? you would probably do it again. ugh, how you wished to be your past self right now. kissing his sweet lips again— hearing his orgasm-worth grunts again— feeling his muscular body against yours— his soft hair grazing through your fingers— 

your fantasies shatter as sukuna throws you a smirk and joins in the laughter. 

you take it back. fuck your past self. why the fuck would you hump him? scratch that, why did you go to that fucking party anyway—

is the laughter about you? 

your head snaps back to the ground and you pick up your pace. 

are they making fun of you? 

you shove your hands into your pockets as the slight air of passing by sukuna hits your face.

you try exhaling once they’re behind you, but you're worried it might be too vocal and he'll hear you. 

the sounds of their snickering doesn't leave your ears, even long after you passed by and they were out of earshot. 

meanwhile, as sukuna locked eyes with you, it was just as unexpected. it happened when he wasn't actively searching for you in the crowd for once. 

he had just left the library with gojo in tow, meeting toji and suguru at the exit. gojo nagged them to hang out and despite sukunas need of some revising for his upcoming exams he was reluctant to agree, sick of gojos never-ending whining. who is he kidding? the revising could wait, his mental well-being— which is in need of a break from socializing, on top of desperately needing a break from gojo— cannot. what does he have to do for one second of peace and quiet? why does he want to hang out anyway? it’s friday for fucks sake! they’ll see each other tonight at some party anyway! 

he joins the group with a scowl that confirms he'd rather be anywhere but here. they’re already too loud. gojo jumps into conversation the second he meets eyes with the two other men and sukuna can feel his brain cells evaporating. sugurus laughing like a donkey at gojos unfunny jokes and sukuna prepares himself for his already present headache to intensify. 

the men start walking, talking and laughing about who-knows-what since sukuna has already tuned them out. 

during sukunas inner calculations of how many brain cells he’ll have left by the end of the day, he feels his heart drop and immediately loses his train of thought— because he just met eyes with you. 

his mind needed a couple seconds to catch up and actually accept that he’s seeing you right now. despite never actually peeling his eyes off you, it felt as if he not only needed a second look but also a triple check that he's not hallucinating in the moment. he was forcing his mind to tune out gojos shrieking seconds ago and now he finds himself hearing nothing but his hastening heartbeat and seeing nothing but your face that he was longing to be close to again. you’re only passing by each other, but sukuna doesn't know when he'll be in close proximity to you again. he could reach out right now and feel your soft skin once more. 

he's not only seeing you but you're looking right back at him. the shock he felt was quickly mixed with delight. he doesn’t realize that the delight came mainly by you being there— instead he reasons with himself that he's happy because you're noticing him as well for once. 

while everyone orbits around sukuna and notices him from multiple blocks away— even with his excessive amount of looking around for you he never got the chance to lock eyes with you. why does he find himself desperate for your acknowledgement? why is he trying to figure out why you have that look of arrogance on your face? not an ounce of fear— not an ounce of adoration either. for you, he's just another face among the crowd, for him— you're the face he searches for in the crowd. 

he tells himself it's a normal reaction. it's reasonable why he's interested. he’s simply confused why you're looking at him with indifference. of course there are enough people out there who avoid sukuna, try to stay out of his way. looks of disgust or envy toward him isn't anything new. people that stay out of his way still acknowledge him. they know who he is. they stay out of his way because they want to stay out of trouble. they’re scared, nervous. but you— you simply don't care. it’s simply that fuck ass obnoxious but pretty face of yours that he cannot seem to shake off. such a shame too, pretty face that just seems to piss him off for no significant reason.

pretty face that pisses him off yet he can’t stop starring. 

pisses him off yet he won’t admit how many times he swept his eyes across the hallways. so yeah— enough times that this encounter was certainly unexpected for him. 

however, the constant, lingering anticipation of setting his eyes on you again— paired with the subconscious scanning of his surroundings— makes him wonder if it truly was unexpected, or if your appearance itself made his breath hitch. 

fuck, he’s starring. you probably think he's a weirdo— 

sukuna forces himself to look away and quickly starts laughing with the other men, despite having no idea what they're laughing about, hoping you don't think he’s creepy. he can’t have you avoid him on top of dismissing him. he wants you to acknowledge him— to feel his presence just as much as he searches for yours. 

his head still turns slightly when you're getting closer. his nose tries picking up on your perfume— begging for a whiff of your scent. the scent that he has memorized yet cant remember. he has to hold himself back from reaching out. he feels a sudden cold settling over him and needs your skin to warm him up. he wants to call out to you. stop you. make you look at him. yet he realizes that he still doesn't know your name. 

despite his efforts of holding back, sukuna is oblivious to his hand closest to you extending and his fingers slightly stretching out— right as you're brushing by and sending a flicker of wind across his skin. 

.

another friday night, another party. though sukuna cannot seem to enjoy himself. 

the party feels louder than usual. the stench of cheap cologne and weed seems to be stronger than typically. the lights are causing an ache behind his eyes and whoever gave him this drink can prepare themselves for a taste of his fist because it tastes like shit. warm— too sweet— and it does not fulfill it’s purpose because he does not feel the effect that usually makes him enjoy these parties— enjoy socializing— enjoy the music— the scenery— the surrounding people who are desperate for his approval. 

it's been exactly a week since he last tasted your lips. 

he keeps scanning the crowd subconsciously— hoping for another glimpse of you— even though part of him knows he won't be seeing you tonight.

he's been desperate to blow off some steam— and yet the only way he seems to tolerate the attempts of conversations from girls is when they resemble you— when he can imagine them to be you. but as creative as his brain has been lately— no one fills the longing of actually having you in front of him again. 

wait. 

he does not long for having you in front of him again. 

damn. these tasteless ass drinks are really messing with his brain.

and this girl sitting beside him on the couch can't take the damn hint. she’s almost clawing her way onto his lap while having a one-sided conversation. she could be talking to a brick wall and have the same outcome. sukuna doesn't spare her a single answer. in fact, he doesn't even know what she's talking about— or who she even is. she’s moving closer with every passing second and sukuna doesn't have space to back away anymore. he wants to tell her to piss off but doesn't bother to. it's easier to ignore her than find the energy to stand up and walk away.

she’s getting closer by the second. her sticky fingers are touching him, feeling him up. her skin feels wrong against his own and he feels himself internally recoiling. her touch is making his skin crawl and the lingering feeling it leaves behind on his skin feels revolting. 

her perfume is way too strong and overwhelming him more than he already is— suffocating him— but if he concentrates hard enough, closing his eyes, he can make out the top notes of yours. the scent of you that he barely remembers. it’s hidden within, a faint whisper against his senses. a dull memory that manages to soothe him. a trace of you he wants to follow. 

her high-pitched laugh pierces through his imagination— stabbing his ears and tearing through the short-lived dream he had found himself in. 

what is she even squealing about? 

he couldn’t care less. 

she ripped through the one thing that made him tolerate her longer than he should. her perfume is overpowering his senses again. the lights are too strong. the music is too loud.

he needs air.

her cries of desperation are nothing more than background noise— swallowed by the chaos around him— as he flees away. he maneuvers his way through the crowd— which parts itself for him— shoving away anyone who had the misfortune of not sensing his presence in time. 

he immediately fills his lungs with fresh air once he steps outside. his ears ring— trying to get used to the now quieter environment, with only dull sounds of the havoc inside— as he sits on the concrete step. 

sukuna is sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands— thumbs slowly rubbing into his temples— trying to relieve the headache that has grown throughout the night. 

lost in the moment, he doesn't detect the presence behind him lurking closer till they're sat beside him.

“you’re quiet today”, he remarks. 

sukuna peeks through his fingers and shifts his gaze to the person, briefly scanning his features and recognizing toji. 

he grunts in response, not finding the energy to actually say something. 

“you good?”, toji questions. 

“yeah”, sukuna replies, “s’just…”, he trails off for a moment, his attention drifting to the lawn in front of him, “too loud.”

toji scoffs at that, “loud? dude, you're the source of that normally.”

sukuna doesn't reply to that. no— he can’t reply to that. what is he supposed to say? he questions as well why he can't find comfort in a place he usually strives in. in a place where he's supposed to strive in— where it's expected from him. 

it’s silent for a beat, both men staring into the lawn. the breeze of the night slightly making their skin prickle. 

 “you’ve been off for a while”, toji interrupts the silence. 

sukuna doesn't respond again. 

“is it that girl?”, toji aks. 

sukuna turns his way at that, his raised eyebrow seeking toji to elaborate. 

“from the closet”, toji continues, “i’ve seen you eyeing her on campus.”

is it you? the girl whose name he doesn't even know yet? 

“you should just talk to her if she got you daydreaming and shit”, toji advises with a grin. 

“shut up”, sukuna groans in response and nudges his shoulder. 

toji chuckles, “you didn't deny it.”

“fuck off”, sukuna grunts, avoiding tojis gaze as he feels heat crawling up his neck. 

.

you feel a lot more composed than last week. 

well, a part from that one time you almost lost your footing and nearly ate the concrete of the pavement when you saw sukuna on the way to the library. but you calmed down— you think. they were already laughing when they rounded the corner so there's no way the cause was actually you— at least that's what you've been telling yourself.  

you stroll your way through campus— mentally preparing yourself for another week after the short-lived weekend— trying to enjoy the morning, though you can't help but wish that you could've slept in and skip the morning altogether. 

you haven't been keeping track of when your last encounter with sukuna was. which is a little surprising since that's all you're stressing yourself about— seeing him again. you haven't seen him around campus after the library incident and you don't plan on doing so. your guard is still up, but your shoulders aren't as tense anymore— your hands can rest after clenching them for too long— and the people around you can relax because your expression resembles a human being again. 

you stop in front of the class shoko is currently in— planning on having a quick bite with her on your shared break. she texted you a few minutes ago that her lecture is nearing its end.

as you wait for her, you can't help but let out a low, relieved sigh. it feels like you can finally breathe again. 

you've finally accepted that the dream you clung to all week— that there would be more after that kiss with sukuna— was never meant to come true. 

it’s funny really. while you were doing everything in your power to avoid him— and succeeding at that— you’ve been secretly wishing that it meant more to him. the way it did to you. you hoped that he couldn’t forget that night. hoped he was replaying it in his head the same way you were.  

just because you were hoping for more doesn't mean you'll initiate anything ever again though… 

or stop avoiding him… 

just the thought of seeing him again gives you goosebumps.

what if he'd point at you and laugh… and then everybody in proximity joins and you'd be forced to flee the building because everybody is pointing and laughing… 

maybe you should start searching for an apartment? preferably somewhere far away where you can start a new life with a new identity. 

no. don’t be dramatic. It's not that deep. 

he probably forgot about it already. 

even if you'd fail at avoiding him he'd probably not even recognize you! that single eye contact from last week doesn't mean he recognized you! or remembered you shamelessly throwing yourself at him! 

who even are you? just another body amongst all the others. no one special. no one remarkable. and definitely not someone worth remembering. 

“hey.” 

so about that apartment— and starting a new life— and the new identity— 

were you going crazy at last? 

there's no way you just heard sukunas voice. 

and it's even more impossible that it was directed at you.

you didn't sense the sudden shift in the atmosphere because you were already stressed as it is. 

he's right behind you, isn't he? 

you slowly turn around— trying to appear normal and unaffected. fuck it’s getting hot. and youre not even fully turned around yet! are you sweating? are you red? 

meeting eyes with sukuna felt like looking at your own death— horrifying and inevitable. but somehow also irresistible. 

every instinct screams at you to look away. his ruby-colored eyes are sharp enough to wound, but alluring— making the thought of bleeding out sound peaceful. 

his gaze roots you into place, daring you to move a single muscle. is he here to cuss you out? to tell you he has been sick ever since that night because what you did was absolutely disgusting? 

no. he doesnt look disgusted. he doesnt look delighted to be here yet you can't help but feel like his eyes are somewhat— gentle? 

wait. he greeted you. 

you were just about to open your mouth— already begging your voice not to crack— when you remembered that you're supposed to be mute. 

what now? just— smile. 

you try smiling at him. are you smiling too much? you're beaming aren't you. okay— just tone it down a little. smile just enough to be polite— to greet him back— not to seem like you're desperate for his presence. 

sukuna feels his hands sweating at the absolute unamused look you're giving him. is he that weird for greeting you? you look like you've never seen him before. so is he the only one that cannot get that damn kiss out of his head? he doesn't even know what made him approach you. you were just standing there and his legs moved before he could decide— let alone ask himself if he should come up to you. now that he's in front of you, after days of wanting to be here, he has no idea what to say. maybe ask you what your fucking name is? he’s out here pissed off whenever you cross his mind— so basically like, all the damn time— yet he doesn’t even know your fucking name. 

he’s not a fucking virgin. he can flirt with women. he can have a conversation with women. even if he has no idea what to say he could come up with something on the spot to swoon them— but that look you're giving him? still arrogant, still dismissing him, still looking like he's not worth a second of your day. fuck. what can he say in order for you to actually want to give him your time of the day? 

did you do something wrong? are you smiling too much? are you standing weird? is something on your face? why the fuck is sukuna just standing there. you can't help but admire his figure. you want to feel him against you again. you want to bite his mouth watering biceps. is it snowing outside? because why else would he not wear his tight fitting, slutty shirts? shit, you're starring. 

sukuna watches you eye him from head to toe and this might be the first time he feels an ounce of insecurity. he should’ve worn something tighter so he could’ve shown off how strong he is. flexing his arms and puffing out his chest should work for now.

wait. why is he trying to show off? he knows he's attractive and there's no way you think otherwise. even if he’s not your type, you’ll have to admit that he’s hot as fuck. shit. forget his fucking appearence he must look like a fucking moron just standing here after saying hey and nothing else— 

your eyes flick back to his. why isn't he saying anything? was the greeting even aimed at you? fuck, did he mean someone behind you and you turned around like a dumbass—

sukuna feels his chest tighten when you turn around. are you really gonna walk away before he got the chance to ask for your name? his words are stuck in his throat and the door you're standing at opens right as he is about to stammer his question out. the creak of the door tenses his shoulders up and the stream of people leaving the lecture hall makes his ears ring. you give him one last look over your shoulder after spotting shoko, already walking toward her direction and dismissing him once again. you’re not even two steps away when you turn your attention away from him and toward your friend. the hands he was about to reach out for you with clenches on his sides. did he manage to catch your attention in the first place? or was he just an inconvenience— a fly you couldn't shake off? 

sukuna exhales— his signature scowl back in place— stepping away before others think he's running after you— or worse— before he feeds your ego by resembling a fan who’s begging for an autograph. the ryomen sukuna trying to stop a chick from walking away from him— disregarding him completely— for her name? he scoffs at himself. right. its not like he was interested in you or anything. he was just… trying to put a name on a minor inconvenience that managed to develop into a major nuisance because… because… why is he so fucking pissed off? lack of knowledge. that’s it. who wouldnt be annoyed at someone— more than they’re worth being annoyed about— when they have no fucking idea who that person is?

shoko thinks she might've forgotten her pants in the lecture hall by the look on your face as you're approaching her. your eyes look like they're about to pop out and bounce around the hallway. after a quick scan of her legs, she silently questions what happened by lifting one eyebrow. an equally distraught face appears on her once she registers who's merely six inches behind you. 

you speed walk toward her and grip her arm once she's in reach, turning her around immediately and pushing her forward. 

“did he see you?”, shoko asks impatiently. 

you don’t answer. terrified that sukuna might still be in earshot to hear you. after rounding three corners, shoko stops you from walking any further. she holds both your arms, hard, leaning into your face and asks you again, “did he see you?” 

“worse”, you whisper. 

“the fuck do you mean worse—” 

“he said hey.” 

a moment of silence passes. 

shoko stands upright again. her grip on your arms loosens a bit, “are you sure you didn't imagine that—”

“yes i’m sure— the fuck!—”, you stop yourself from shouting, exhaling and looking around again. “yes”, you repeat yourself, “i’m sure.”

“huh”, shoko releases your arms completely. she furrows her eyebrows, tongue pressed into her cheek, deep in thought. shoko briefly leaves reality to have a conversation with her two brain cells. the lightbulb lights up and once her eyes focus on you again, she smirks. 

“what are you grinning about?”, you have to hold yourself back from wiping that smile off her face because she's the whole reason this happened! 

“he wants you so bad”, shoko drawled. 

“that’s your conclusion after zoning out for ten minutes?— hey!”, she skips away before you can give her a piece of your mind, or well, piece of your fist against her face. 

.

at this point, you're used to holding your tongue and examining every location you step into for pink hair. you’ve lost sense of time a long time ago and accepted that this is your new reality. the anxiety in your stomach is still present, but it's not moving all over your body anymore. it’s there, turning and stirring with every corner you turn. though it has become something you're accustomed to. your last crossing with sukuna has calmed your nerves. even if you're not sure what his deal was, it felt as if he's not as repulsed by you as you thought he'd be. you’re back at square one, avoiding him because you're supposed to be mute and not because you threw yourself at him. since he doesn't seem to be fazed by the latter, staying out of his way shouldn't be a problem, no? 

wrong. 

you really have to stop waiting for shoko and let her wait for you for once, because waiting by her lecture hall is not an option any more. 

sukuna isn't someone who second-thinks his actions. most of his actions are either done deliberately— thought through and done with reason, so there's no reason to second-guess those— or he does them without thinking, because they're not worth pondering about. everything he does lands where he wants it to or he simply doesn't care where it does. as a result, he doesn't feel shame or guilt. he doesn’t lay in his bed, late at night, tired as fuck but unable to sleep because his brain is replaying his mistakes. well except… every night since your last interaction.

can he even call it an interaction when his throat was clogged with words he couldn't express? sukuna doesn't remember the last time he was just as embarrassed. he had his perks when no one had the guts to humiliate him. except his own conscience, that is. 

he has to learn to control his legs, since they seem to wander before he decided to do so. because even though he can't blink without seeing your ice-cold gaze, he finds himself in front of you again. but this time, he's set on winning. 

“hey”, sukuna calls out to you, copying your stance in front of you by leaning against the same wall. you notice him— the focus on your phone in your hands gone— momentarily staring at his shoes before your eyes slowly move their way up his body. 

sukuna relished in being called a womanizer, but in front of you he might as well be a virgin, fearing— knowing that he'll stutter and fall over his words once he opens his mouth. 

the moment you see a shadow creeping in front of you from your peripheral vision, you're on high alert. a heavy weight settles over you— pressing against your lungs— yet you opt to ignore it till the shadow announces its presence. sadly it doesn't get better, because even though your nerves were screaming at you, warning you that it's most likely the one person you don't want it to be, he opens his mouth. same hey from last time. you take your time in looking up, maybe he'll disappear before you meet his gaze, but no. he's still here. sukuna. again. in front of you. leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, biceps flexing so deliciously that you have to strain your eyes not to linger on them for too long. his scarlet eyes are already fixated on you, yet to your surprise, he’s wearing a cocky smirk this time. 

sukuna will win your heart this time. not that he needs it. or wants it. you’re just as unamused as last time. maybe even more, he can't read you. but that doesn't matter, soon your heart will be on your sleeve and he'll see the adoration you have for him twinkle in your eyes. 

you can't hold eye contact for the life of you. and it's especially hard when the person the pair of eyes belongs to has so many other qualities that you can stare at. 

your eyes betray you by starting to trail the tattoos that decorate his handsome face. starting from his forehead, pausing momentarily at the glinting of his eyebrow piercing, they continue their path along his cheekbones, down to his chin. your number one regret in life will probably be that you never got the chance to trail his tattoos with your tongue. ending the journey at his chin, your eyes find a new point of focus. his lips. his lips which look so undeniable soft that you’d kill to taste them right now. 

“we’ve been bumpin’ into each other a lot”, he smirked, concealing his nervousness. who starts a fucking conversation like that? you don't seem to recognize him, why did he say out loud that he noticed you? he's trying to be nonchalant, fighting his legs to not lose his footing by leaning against this wall. why is the ground so slippery? his toes try clawing at the floor to hold himself upright. he feels himself slowly sliding further away from the wall, soon he'll be eye level with you— 

oh? 

sukunas smirk grows. you're practically gaping at his mouth. so he's not alone in wanting to relive that kiss? he stands upright, abandoning the wall, edging closer to you without making it too obvious. his nostrils flare, hit by the faint scent of your perfume. your gaze stays fixated on his lips, which he wets instinctively. pumped with new-found confidence, sukuna continues talking, “so, what's your name?” 

you were so captivated by the movement of his mouth, the brief appearance of his tongue, that you didn’t realize that you’re probably drooling, but also the fact that sukunas been talking and you haven’t heard a single word. you freeze. did he notice? he did, didn’t he? he probably thinks you're a creep. who stares at someone's mouth for so long? what should you do? maybe if you stare longer it’ll look like you zoned out? yeah, if you flick your eyes up too quick it’ll seem like you’re caught. just look a little longer and then you can slowly move your eyes back to his—

his composure falters when he notices the furrow in your brows and the evident concentration on your face. does he have something in his teeth? why are you so focused on his lips?—

oh. 

the realization hits him like a train. 

are you reading his lips? trying to decipher what he's saying?

his thought-process is interrupted by a slap on his shoulder, accompanied with a too cheerful and familiar voice. “what’s up, my man”, gojo practically shouts in his ears and drapes his arm over sukunas shoulder. sukunas instant reply is shoving him off, harsher than usual with the current situation. his attention slips away from you and directs itself to the other man for a moment. big mistake. “fuck off”, he growls. gojo is oblivious to the frustration raging through sukunas veins. he stares at gojo with narrowed eyes, his snarl exposing his sharp canines, but gojo still lingers with an unfazed stance. sukunas hate for the man grows with his seemingly impeccable timing. does he have to ruin the fucking moment? and right when he finally stood in front of you!—

sukuna turns to you again but is only met with the emptiness of the spot where you stood mere seconds ago. 

you fled the scene once gojo made his appearance. you were unsure if you were supposed to wait for sukuna, so you decided that waiting there awkwardly— risking that sukuna may forget your presence entirely or find it amusing that you’re waiting for him— sounded scarier than bolting. so bolting you did. 

.

later that day— as sukuna is laying on his bed, head resting on one arm, phone forgotten on his desk— he recounts the details of your encounter. while he's trying not to cringe at another failure of charming you, he starts to rummage through his memory to find more reasons to add to the possibility of you being deaf. 

of course, there's the fact of you presumably reading his lips today. and also— you never reacted when he called out to you. today— you didn't immediately look up when he greeted you— you looked up once you saw his feet and worked your way up from there— 

before that too— it took you forever to turn around, he was already preparing himself to repeat himself— is that why you walked away? you didn't hear him say ‘hey’ after all and his stupid ass didn't open his mouth again once you had set your eyes on him— how were you supposed to know he was trying to talk to you and not just standing around? 

“so that's why shoko was typing on her phone for her…”, he mutters to himself, the seemingly unimportant memory of the party fully confirming his hypothesis. 

your immovable expression of boredom makes way more sense now. your expression didn't waver after he growled at you for running into him— which makes sense since you didn't detect the threat in his voice. you were unamused when he approached you in the hallway because who wouldn't be? he'd probably be annoyed too if someone came up to him and tried communicating in a language he didn't understand—

connecting one point that spoke in your defence to the other made sukuna completely dismiss the possibility of you simply having no desire to be face to face with him. 

“fuck it”, he sighs out as he stands up to grab his phone. 

.

fuck shoko. sukunas second attempt at— cursing you out, probably?— yesterday made you unable to get a single wink of sleep last night. you’ll never wait for her again. 

“ughhh—”, shoko drags out as you're locking your dorm room, “pleaseee wait for me before lunch—” 

“I already told you no”, you pocket your keys. 

“but todays different!”, she joins your strides as you start walking toward the elevator. “I share the course with satoru, you know how he is—”, she presses the button, “he’ll take me walking out alone as an invite to join me. I really, really—”, she takes the elevators chime as her cue to inhale deeply, “reallyyy.. can't handle his rambling today.” 

“oh come on”, you step into the elevator, “he has his own friends im sure he’ll spare you—”

“NO”, she punches the elevator button aggressively, just as you were about to, making you flinch away, “I can't risk it pleasee— my social battery can't handle him today—”

“your social battery seems fully charged to me…”

“i’ll be quick!”, she holds your arms, “i promise i’ll sprint out the hall—”

how long can you deny those puppy eyes? you sigh out, “shoko. babe. i love you but for the sake of my blood pressure, I cannot see sukuna again.”

“you won't", she whispers without a shadow of doubt, “i’ll leave that hall so fast he won't have the chance to gang up on you again.” 

“shoko—” 

the elevator door opens but shokos still holding you in place. 

“i’ll do the dishes for a week.”

you don’t budge. 

“two weeks.”

her arms fall as you start walking out of the elevator. 

“fine!”, she slightly jogs to catch up to you, “a month.” 

“...deal”, you begrudgingly give in.  

“bitch..”

“what was that? not waiting for you sounds awfully good right now..” 

“nothing!” 

"that's what I thought.”

there's a short-lived silence between you as you both leave the dormitory. 

“i hope sukuna comes up to you again—”

you wince in sudden panic, your head turning her way, "don't say that!”

"i'm joking!" 

.

it feels like escaping a month of dishes is not worth the anxiety you feel as you're waiting for shoko. again. 

you close your eyes, focusing on taking deep breaths in hope of slowing down your racing heart. the thumping quietens down slowly as you try to compose yourself.

what are the chances of sukuna seeking you out a third time? ‘can’t be that high’, you think to yourself, even as you feel a familiar tension settling between your shoulder blades. 

you open your eyes. 

greeted by a scrumptious pair of pecs confirms that the chances are indeed that high. 

a broad, muscular torso fills your vision. your eyes immediately register the dark ink on his wrists. 

is there even a point in looking up? you can't just pass down on the chance to directly look at his ravishing face though. even if you by absolutely no means wanted this to happen. of course. 

looking up at the towering 6’3 wall of muscle, the part of you which isn’t currently cursing out shoko, wonders if this is the outcome of a good deed or if you were some kind of evil queen in your last life. 

sucking up knowledge was never a problem for sukuna. learning new things and using them to his advantage was always a skill he was proud of. he rarely had problems with his studies. he wasn’t a genius by any means— yet he quickly understood what was needed, even if it was a night before a life-altering exam. 

so why is he— even after memorizing and practicing for way longer than he needed— nervous about forgetting everything and fucking up once you gaze back into his eyes? 

you watch his adams apple bop. what the actual fuck does he want from you? did he find out that you're not mute and is here to give a piece of his mind?

sukuna watches you slightly tilt your head in question. ‘cute’, he can't help but slightly smirk at the sight. now that he's sure he's got your attention— 

‘third times the charm’, sukuna thinks to himself. he raises both of his hands, palms facing upward, and starts gently shaking them side to side simultaneously. 

‘what’

then he pushes his dominant hand, palm facing you, toward you. 

‘your’ 

he extends his index and middle finger on both hands, keeping them pressed together. and by tapping one pair on the other— 

‘name’ 

— he completes his question.

you’re left utterly confused and speechless by sukunas movements. why is he throwing up gang signs? and what the fuck are you supposed to do? is he doing some kind of ritual? you did hear of some rumors that he used to be some four-armed two-faced demon-king—

did he fuck it up? he can feel sweat building up on his body as a torturous heat settles upon his insides. you're just staring at him— 

oh he's stupid. how the fuck are you supposed to answer— that’s the only thing he can sign, for now, he won’t understand if you sign back— 

a shout of your name interrupts you both. 

you immediately snap your head toward a frantic shoko, who's currently running in your direction. 

sukuna copies you, somewhat mad at whoever decided to steal your attention from him once again— only to see the same reason. shoko. fuck her— though he has to appreciate her this time because he finally learned your name. 

are you supposed to hate or love shoko? “hey sukuna”, she throws a nervous laugh his way, “have to steal my friend here from you”, she could start a rap career with the speed she's talking with right now, “bye.” 

you're dragged away in one swift, blurring motion. sukuna is once more left wondering if the last five minutes really happened.  

he silently breathes your name out to himself. it feels right on his tongue, like a poem he had memorized in a past life, begging to be vocalized again.

.

you shouldn't feel so comfortable— sitting in a public library, having an active conversation with shoko— while a certain salmon-haired hottie could walk past any moment and recognize you. yet you cannot help yourself, finding the topic way too amusing, even if said topic was about the key factor of your fight-or-flight response working overtime. 

“i swear to god she started throwing a temper tantrum on the middle of the fucking dance floor”

“you have to be exaggerating”, you remark between laughs, “stomping around and whining?”

“the whole thing! i’m pretty sure she shed some tears! and for what?— because sukuna wouldn't dance with her?” 

“i did not expect yorozu to be this obsessed over him”

“you don't even know half of it”, shoko said in a harsh whisper, trying to respect the rules of the library,  “i heard she's been running after him since high school.” 

“since highschool?!”, you gasped, amused. 

“some say she only applied here because of him” 

“from what I heard from you, I wouldn't be surprised if that's true”, you mused. 

“real”, she puffs out, “poor guy. if i didnt know better i’d even go as far and say he looks terrified when she’s in the same room”

“I cannot imagine him looking terrified”, you try envisaging it for a second, “terrifying? definitely.”

“pfft— you're giving him too much credit.”

“you know damn well—”

“anyway get this”, she leans closer to you, “the reason yorozu threw herself at him— ignoring the fact that she always does…”, she veered off briefly, “was because sukuna apparently pushed some girl off the couch at a party and yorozu swore up and down that he did it because he's in love with her”

“no fucking way”, you comment, blinking in disbelief. 

“yes fucking way!” 

a shiver suddenly drips down your back. the abrupt drop in temperature forms a rope of unease in your stomach. 

“I honestly wish I could be as delusional as her—”

“hey”, you interrupt shoko, “it’s cold as fuck”

“not really, no”, she shrugs. 

you blame some open window on the sudden drop in temperature, not recognizing the piercing presence a mere bookshelf away. 

₍^. .^₎Ⳋ [ a/n ] BRO I FUCKING REALIZED THAT HERES NO SPACING BETWEEN SCENES LIKE THERES SUPPOSED TO BE I HAD TO REEDIT IT and there isnt spacing in chapter 1 either... IM GONNA CRY... whats your fav curse word? probably fuck.... yall hate to break it to you but chapter 3 will probably take a while.. i have exams coming up and tbh the only reason i managed to update so fast is because i only had to write the last two scenes, since i originally planned on publishing the whole story at once and had half of it written already. sorry in advance for the wait (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟)

ANYWAY HOPE YOU LIKED THE CHAPTER !! tysm for all the likes, comments and reblogs ilysm (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

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