Eventually the trees opened into a small hillside, there wasn't much left. Old stone markers leaned with age. Moss covered names weather had nearly erased. A forgotten cemetery.

Yuji blinked. "...A graveyard?" He then felt himself getting irritated once more. He knew it. A crude joke Sukuna was trying to pull. "You took me to a graveyard— Is this some kind of sign your giving me? if it is, it's not funny—"

Sukuna cut him off, the mouth moving against his cheek. "Left." He didn't laugh like Yuji expected him to, he didn't even explain if it was actually a joke. Just a simple word.

Yuji huffed and followed, muttering under his breath about this better not being some tactic.

"Straight." Another few rows passed as they walked. Yuji didn't feel so annoyed once he looked around at the graves. They seemed old, very old.

"Stop."

Yuji looked down after hearing Sukuna's word to be met with one grave, it looked older than everything around it. The inscription had almost disappeared beneath centuries of rain and moss.

He crouched down and brushed some of it away to reveal a name he hasn't ever seen, nor heard of. Your name.

He didn't recognize it. "...Whose is this?" Yuji mumbled as his fingers touched the lettering.

The mouth on his cheek didn't smile at all, in a straight line that couldn't reveal any kind of emotion. "My wife." No sarcasm, no laughter, Just Sukuna and his unbelievably quiet voice.

Yuji froze, his mouth opened and closed several times. He couldn't even force one word out.

Sukuna already knew what he was thinking. "She died before this place became ruins."

Yuji slowly looked around, "...You..." he couldn't even finish the sentence. Sukuna had a wife? The monster responsible for mountains of corpses? The King of Curses? The same guy who killed several is the same ancient curse who has a wife. "...You're serious?"

"I don't joke."

"...You absolutely do."

"Not about this." Silence settled again after Sukuna's words. The wind moved through the grass as Yuji looked at the grave. For once, he had nothing sarcastic to say. he only decided to get more comfortable and sitting with his legs under his thighs.

Minutes passed and neither of them spoke. They both couldn't bring themselves to speak to each other.

Then Sukuna finally did. Quietly. "It's been over a thousand years." His voice lacked its usual arrogance. "You're still here."

Yuji stared ahead. Sukuna wasn't talking to him. He was speaking to you. He hadn't expected... Whatever this is.

The mouth opened again. "Pathetic, isn't it?" It almost sounded amused. Key word, almost. "I conquered kingdoms, destroyed clans, became something legends fear," Another pause, like he was considering his words carefully. "Yet the only place I've returned to... Is this one."

Sukuna sounded pathetic to even his own ears. Here he was, in a vessel's body and choosing his choice of words to something he knew you would prefer him to use. It's dumb. You weren't here to hear him. So why was he sitting here trying not to anger you?

Yuji looked away suddenly feeing as if he was intruding. "...You want to talk to her." No response came but that alone was enough of an answer.

The boy hesitated. It was stupid, dangerous, every instinct screamed no. He was well aware he shouldn't suggest what he was going to. But...

He looked at the weathered stone, his eyes flickering to the flowers that had long since turned wild around it.

Someone hadn't visited this place in centuries. Except Sukuna apparently, before whatever it is that happened.

Yuji finally manages out a sigh. Not the only he used for Sukuna, but the one he did when he knew he was doing something stupid. because it was. What he was going to say was extremely dumb. But his heart couldn't take it anymore.

"...One minute."

"What?"

"You get one minute...Please don't make me regret it."

The eye on Yuji's cheek eyes widened— Just slightly, a reaction so small most people would've missed it. But Yuji hadn't. "...Take over."

After a few seconds, the markings spread across Yuji's skin, his posture straightened and the air itself seemed heavier. Sukuna would've hated how desperate he seemed for this chance. As of right now, however, he didn't even mind it.

Four crimson eyes opened. the two under the main two eyes sitting smaller.

Sukuna sat there once more. Not on a battlefield, not atop a mountain of bodies, not even laughing.

Just him before an old grave. For a long time... He said nothing. The wind answered in his place. He didn't even have to speak, this opportunity alone was as much as he wanted. But everyone knew Sukuna loved taking advantage of situations, this one was no different.

"...You always hated silence." His voice was softer than Yuji had ever heard. "I suppose you've won that argument." A faint chuckle escaped him, the sound itself was...strange.

"I visited when shrines still stood. When your family still came. When flowers were replaced every spring." His fingers brushed moss from the stone.

"They stopped. One generation after another. until eventually...No one remembered you." He looked at your name, silence taking over once more. "I told you I'd outlive everyone." A bitter smile. "You called me arrogant, and you were right."

His hand rested against the weathered stone. "I was arrogant. I outlived the, the clans, the era, the name they gave me." His voice became almost inaudible, he was fighting back so many emotions he didn't dare want to reveal.

"You would've hated what I became." The wind stirred again, "...Or perhaps you always knew." But now he couldn't even ask you which it was.

His thumb traced the carved letters.

"They call me a calamity now. And they're correct." He didn't seem so prideful about it now as he would have. "I stopped pretending I cared...After you met your fate."

Another long pause took hold. "I remembered your laugh today." The confession came so unexpectedly that even Yuji, somewhere inside, went still.

"I couldn't remember your voice, but I remembered your laugh." His eyes closed.

"I thought I'd tell you before I forgot that too." The words hung in the air. Painfully human and painfully lonely. He exhaled.

"...Ridiculous," A dry laugh escaped his lungs. "I'm speaking to stone. The stone of a person whose face I already forgot." but tried so hard to remember. Sukuna thought, but he didn't say.

He let out another exhale before rolling his eyes subtly. "Here brat. Take over the body." A moment of silence flooded back in, and the cursed marking disappeared from Yuji's face.

Yuji had nothing to say, his mouth in a firm line. He felt the mouth creeping back onto his cheek.

The silence remained between them as Yuji rose from his seated position, a small smile creeping onto his face. "You really loved her."

Sukuna didn't answer immediately, he let the pause stay before speaking. "Once." That answer made Yuji roll his eyes. "You're lying."

The eye also rolled its Iris, "Am I?"

Yuji nodded and held up two fingers. "You spent an entire minute talking to a gravestone." He let one of the fingers down as he counted that. "...And you remembered her laugh after a thousand years."

Nothing.

He smiled, knowing he won this round."...You're terrible at pretending you don't care."

The mouth clicked its tongue. "Don't become sentimental, brat."

Yuji smiled despite himself. "...I won't tell anyone." They started walking back. Halfway down the path Yuji glanced behind him. The grave stood alone beneath the trees covered in moss and forgotten by history.

But not by the man history remembered as the King of Curses.

“i’m gonna get her back.”

sato, suguru and toru all glance towards each other. they know what that voice means. there’s no talking him out of it.

but toru lowers his phone, tries regardless. “are you sure? y/n’s always been strong headed. she might hate you even more if—“

sukuna grabs his crotch aggressively. “keep talking and i’ll jizz on your face.”

toru squeaks. sukuna continues. “i know my own girl. know she’s a fucking brat, doing this shit to get on my nerves,” he growls. “she’s bored. testing me. probably doing this shit to see if i’ll show up at practice ‘n break his jaw for touching her.”

suguru is biting back a grin. “calling her your girl when she broke up with you last week? and the week before that?”

sukuna takes a swig of his beer but his jaw is ticking behind the can. “exactly. she knows where home is.”

sato’s grin is clumsy. “i dunno, man. seems like she’s got a new address,” he elbows suguru’s side. “naoya’s pants, wellesley street east.”

“M-4-Y, 1-H-5,” suguru snickers.

“glad you two have the energy to joke,” sukuna sets down his beer with a thud. “means you’ll have energy to help me out tomorrow night.

tomorrow? tomorrow can only mean one thing.

naoya zenin’s one million snap score party. and also, the party that the college football team throws every year before the start of a new season. the party that sukuna hasn’t been to since he quit the role of captain. the party where sukuna first found you drunk & dizzy in an alley just out back, perfume strong & heels clicky, stumbling into his chest with a clumsy grin & flushed cheeks as he held your hips against him to keep you from falling. you reeked of vodka & you kept slurring his name & ryomen sukuna thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

and now his pretty thing is somewhere curled into naoya’s side, and the thought makes sukuna’s throat itch.

suguru cocks his head. “so i’m guessing you have a plan?”

sukuna chugs his beer. “you know the plan.”

they do—they all do. sato is already grinning. suguru is shaking his head. toru is watching the fratboys with worried eyes.

sato, suguru and sukuna’s lips curl.

the plan?

sabotage.

# SHOW TIME !

at naoya zenin’s one million snapscore party, the air is heavy with the smell of drunken bodies / athlete sweat / something alcoholic dripping off a countertop. geto’s piercings glimmer in the evening dim. ryomen sukuna has his jaw tight. and sato gojo is already drunk and somewhere dancing, legworking with ease as rema’s azaman blares through the speakers.

sukuna and suguru are still scanning the scene when naoya saunters up to them.

naoya zenin is badly dyed hair, bright green eyes and a cocky lilt to his shoulders. he’s got the team’s varsity jacket around him—GO PANDAS!—and a grin too cruel to be kind. he raises his hands in faux welcome.

“suguru, sukuna,” naoya smiles. “didn’t think you’d make it.”

sukuna eyes him. “congratulations on your snapscore.”

“and my new position as captain,” naoya bites so hard his teeth show. “how’s retirement treating you, ryomen? enjoying life off the pitch?”

suguru slings an arm around sukuna, quick to come to his defence. “he’s doing great, thank you. how about you, captain? have you found confidence in your buck teeth?”

naoya’s smile dissolves.

“nice engagement bait,” naoya recovers. he’s grinning again but his lips only stretch, teeth hidden. “you always did bite like a bitch, suguru.”

“i try.”

“enjoy the booze,” naoya lets out a jagged breath, turning away. “try not to cry in your cups too much.”

sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest, suguru’s arm still slung around him. but he’s not watching naoya walk away. his eyes have drifted to you.

you across the party and perched on a seat at the bar, a glass of something pink in your hands and a dress so short he can trace the swell of your ass. and you’re laughing—oh god, you’re laughing, tucking hair behind your ear with flushed cheeks and a carefree smile. sukuna’s mouth dries. god, you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty, and sukuna wants to tell you that; wants to curl up beside you and wipe away the red dribbling down your chin and maybe tug your dress down over your ass. you’d swat at him and tell him he’s ruining your outfit. and then you’d kiss him because you like when he gets territorial anyways.

you laugh again, and ryomen sukuna is already moving.

that is, until naoya curls up behind you.

sukuna stops in his tracks. naoya snakes an arm around your waist from behind—your waist again, not your hips, fucking idiot—and sukuna’s jaw goes slack. he watches naoya press his parched, un-vaselined lips to your shoulder blades, and he doesn’t miss the slight tense of your shoulders before you ease into his chest.

sukuna’s jaw ticks. “suguru.”

“hm?”

“get sato. it’s time.”

suguru grins. “yes, boss.”

suguru disappears into the crowd. sukuna’s eyes shift back to you, back to naoya, back to the way his hands slide up your side and the way he whispers something in your ear. you laugh again and sukuna’s jaw twitches, because the sound itself comes out strained.

you’re uncomfortable. and he’d be a fool to miss it.

suguru reappears with sato in tow.

sato is drunk. swaying. red-bruised lips & booze in his breath. his cheeks are flushed pink & his hair sweat-sticky and he’s slung over suguru’s back like his life depends on it. he nuzzles into suguru’s neck. “mmh—you called?”

sukuna’s eyes are still on you. he nods towards the bar, “you see naoya?”

sato squints. “so ugly,”

“he’s got his hands on my girl.”

sato frowns. “that won’t do.”

“yeah,” sukuna murmurs, lifting a cup of punch off a passing tray. suguru is wiping rum off sato’s lip. sukuna passes the cup to sato. “you remember the plan?”

sato gives a drunken nod. and then he’s off.

the plan is simple: red punch, ugly naoya, combination. sato gojo is supposed to be a ninja, an image of stealth and diligence. instead he’s a wobbly drunken mess, giggling boyishly as he stumbles towards the bar.

he’s so close, sukuna’s eyes narrow. just a few more steps and then naoya will be drenched—

but sato trips. and as he falls, he pulls naoya’s pants down with him.

the situation is a whole mess.

punch everywhere. sticky on naoya’s shocked face, on sato’s fallen figure, on the party’s hardwood floor. and everyone is watching—staring—at naoya zenin covered in punch, pants on the floor. those boxers—is that undertale?

naoya’s face is blood drenched. “you drunken fucking idiot—”

“m’sorry,” sato cries, face down, hands still gripping naoya’s pants. “was tryna—hic—spill the punch, hnghh—suguru—“

“get the fuck off me!” naoya kicks at him, pants rippling around his ankles. someone is pulling out their phone to record. another is already recording. everyone’s laughing, including you, and even ryomen sukuna is struggling to bite back the chuckle on his lips.

naoya scrambles out of the party, shuffling out in his sans undertale boxers with his pants around his feet. suguru has already made his way to sato’s side.

sato’s eyes are teary, and his forehead is bruised red from naoya’s kick. suguru cups his face, brows knit. “hey man. you alright?”

sato groans. “i spilled the punch and the pants.”

“mhm,” geto snorts, smushing sato’s cheeks between his palms. “good job, buddy.”

“i did good?”

“so good,” geto smiles down at him. “come on, up you go.”

suguru helps sato up to his feet. sukuna is already moving.

towards you, you at the bar with your palm over your mouth to muffle your laugh as you watch naoya flee into the night. sukuna steps into your space. your eyes are still on the door before you slowly, slowly, turn your head around to him.

your pupils are blown. cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the alcohol, and your eyes focus for a minute before you grin.

“aww, look,” you beam. “if it isn’t my ex-boyfriend.”

sukuna shouldn’t take advantage.

he knows if you were sober, it’d be a different story. he knows you’d kick and hit at him, maybe snarl about his audacity to show his face around you. but you’re too many drinks too deep and as drunk and dizzy as the day he met you in that alleyway, so instead of kicking at him you lean forward to cup his cheeks.

sukuna tilts his head to kiss your palm. “Hi, baby. you’re drunk.”

“noo,” you slur. “i’m tipsy.”

“mhm,” sukuna grunts, stepping forward to slide his arms around your hips before you can lean off the chair. he tugs your dress down over your ass, then strokes your thigh. “third glass?”

“so close!” you squeeze his neck happily. “i’m on my sixth.”

sukuna hugs you back. but his face is scowling.

naoya zenin—that fucking idiot. sukuna knows your limit is four. he knows that any more than that and you’ll be sick for days, groggy and weak and unable to get out of bed. he squeezes your hips. “s’too much, sweetheart.”

“i know,” you pout into his neck. “i couldn’t resist.”

oh, his poor girl. sukuna kisses your hair. just once—just because he missed the warmth of your skin—but then he does it again and again and you giggle into his chest. fuck. he’s missed the sound bad.

“i’m sorry.”

sukuna’s heart stops. “what?”

“for going past my limit.”

sukuna can feel you pouting in his neck. he sighs, because of course that’s what you meant. not that you were sorry for leaving him or whatever his delusions had him hearing in that moment. after all, he should be the one apologizing anyway. right?

“you’re okay,” he hugs you closer, pressing your head into his chest. god, you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow; and the day after, and the day after. “i’m not mad, pretty. don’t apologize.”

you nod against him. “are you gonna take care of me?”

sukuna wishes drunk you didn’t talk so much.

because it hurts to have to say no, no but i want to, no but i would if i knew you wouldn’t hate me for it when you’re sober, so he doesn’t say it at all. instead he traces circles on your hips. “gimme your phone.”

you rest your chin on his chest and beam up at him drunkenly instead.

sukuna lets out a sigh, shifting just enough to reach for your purse without jerking you off his chest. he slips your phone into his palm and tries for the passcode. it unlocks in one go. the passcode is still his birthday, and sukuna sighs again.

“i’m gonna call shoko,” he murmurs into your ear. “she’ll take care of you, yeah?”

he could take care of you too, you know. if you’d let him. but you wouldn’t, so he bites his lip.

“shoko?” you coo into his neck. “i love shoko.”

“i know,” sukuna squeezes your thigh. “i know you do.”

TORU’S REMARK: I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #2: GO BIG OR GO HOME !

taught by: geto suguru

“like the great oikawa tooru said, if you’re gonna hit it? hit it until it breaks.”

ΣΧ

ryomen sukuna is itch itch itching.

itching to know if you’re okay. itching to know if shoko—or, ugh, naoya—let you have those crackers you like to help you settle your stomach, kept your room slightly warm, and for christ’s sake, kept you away from the advil. you love to reach for them after a night of drinking. sukuna knows it only makes your headaches worse.

you haven’t posted on instagram in days.

not that he should know since you have him blocked. but luckily your account is public and sato’s allowed him to log in on his fake instagram hair page. SlayedBySato. hit them up on IG.

sukuna is lying on the couch, nose buried in a cushion. he watches your highlights with bleary eyes. in the one he’s viewing, you’re in a tight black dress, red and blue hues lighting up your face. you’re dancing the night away, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering. his pretty party girl. god.

“look at my girl,” he mumbles into the pillow. “so fucking hot. i’ll slap the shit out of naoya zenin.”

geto laughs. “shouldn’t have let her get away, then.”

on the floor, sato has his head in suguru’s lap, pouting as geto presses an iced cloth to his forehead. he flinches. “sugu, how much longer?”

“shh,” geto hisses, even though the swelling went down ages ago.

sukuna rolls so his body lays upright, setting his phone down on his chest. “it’s not enough.” he glares at the ceiling. “that stunt with his boxers? did nothing but make a bunch of people laugh.”

suguru and sato look at each other. geto’s voice goes low.

“what are you saying?”

“i’m saying he’s a fraud and i want everyone to fucking know it.” sukuna sits up, tossing his phone unto the coffee table. “he’s still captain of the football team. but i have a video that could change that.”

“the season’s first game, naoya’s first official game as captain…” sato thinks. “are you saying you wanna pull something?”

“i’m thinking of playing it in the locker room TV. make the other boys lose respect for him.”

sato and suguru look at each other again.

“boring.” sato says.

“huh?”

“toru has access to the AV booth,” a slow grin curls its way onto suguru’s lips. “would be a fucking shame if he and i were to mess with the feed on game day.”

sato sits up from suguru’s lap. “locker room TV? boring as fuck, man. the sukuna i know? he’d play whatever video he has in front of the whole fucking stadium.”

sukuna looks at his frat brothers. at their wicked grins and stupid pride and willingness to follow him to the ends of the earth. it’s foolish, honestly. going to such lengths to destroy naoya zenin because he dared to look twice at his girl. but he’s a stupid man, and his frat brothers are even stupider, and this is what the sigma-chi brotherhood is really about.

sukuna’s lip twitches. “i fucking love you guys.”

“we know,” suguru says. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”

# GAME DAY !

LET’S GO PANDAS !

the chanting in the stadium sounds more like a roar.

the air is electric—buzzing, vibrating. cheerleaders on the sidelines with cheeks smeared in blue & red paint. there’s the scent of hot dogs & fried food grilling. a crowd in jerseys with flags in their hands. in the kaisen campus stadium, the midsummer air is thick with anticipation. it’s game day.

sukuna sucks the air into his lungs. he hasn’t been to the stadium in a minute.

sato has run off to get some hot dogs. suguru and toru should already be in the AV room. the pitch has no football players but marching band members instead, drums and trombones blaring music across the grass. sukuna should go over to his and sato’s seats. instead he’s on the stairs, staring down at you.

is it fair for you to look this happy with him away from you?

he shakes the thought away. he always wants you to be happy—he thinks. but happiness with naoya? naoya zenin? he’s not quite sure about that. actually, he is. sukuna knows he’s fucking furious. he knows he doesn’t like the fact that you have naoya’s number on your back, or the fact that you’re jumping and cheering his name when the players haven’t even walked out yet. his jaw ticks. something ugly curls in his throat. he swallows it away.

he stares a little longer. watches your skirt swish around your thighs, watches your arms wave in the air, watches your hips sway to the music. you’ve clearly recovered and your dancing is out of tune as always, and sukuna bites back a smile.

he’s still smiling when you look up at him.

his face falls.

your head lifts towards him, and he doesn’t miss the way your body tenses. your arms drop to your sides. your palms curl into fists.

uh oh.

you look away, pausing for a moment. and then you trudge between bodies and make your way over to what sukuna can only assume is the concession stand.

sukuna follows. he doesn’t give himself time to think any better of it.

——

caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar. the concession stand smells like caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar.

and vanilla, but not the syrupy sweet kind. it’s the kind that sukuna smells whenever he kisses that spot below your ear, or presses his lips to the dip of your waist. at the concession stand, sukuna stands behind you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t see the frown on your face as you stand in line in front of him.

“go away.” you deadpan.

“i’m here to eat.”

“You will choke on your food and die.”

harsh.

sukuna’s used to it though. so when it’s your turn to get a donut, he slips out his wallet and drops some cash before you can even protest. the stand worker takes the excess money with a grin. you turn to sukuna with a frown.

“what are you doing?”

your tone is mean but ryomen sukuna can’t take you seriously. your hair has ribbons tangled throughout it. you look so fucking cute.

he looks you in the eyes. “let me check your temperature. feeling feverish? at all?”

you only eye him in response. “stop caring about me.”

“can’t,” he mutters. “let me check it.”

he pads closer, and you’re still glaring daggers at him, but you don’t bite his palm as it cups your face. he pats the back of his hand against your neck, then your forehead, then your chest—and then his palm’s on your cheek again.

“you had six drinks that night,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “was so worried. don’t like when you go over your limit.”

“i’m fine,” your voice is sharp—or trying to be. “don’t touch me.”

he shifts his hand into his pocket. “okay.” he says. “i’m gonna get you back.”

that sets you off. “i’m done with you, asshole!” you stab your finger into his chest. “i’m serious—no more on and off bullshit. i’ve moved on. i’m with naoya, for fuck’s sake. you just can’t accept that cuz of your stupid little ego!”

you’re still stabbing his chest. sukuna only watches you patiently, letting you yell to your heart’s content.

“and i hate you!” you tug his collar just to shove him away again. “i’m moving on. i’m happy now. so don’t try to act like you’re still my boyfriend!”

“sorry,” he trails off. he’s still watching you poke him with half-lidded eyes.

“i like your ribbons,” he murmurs. “you look pretty.”

“ugh!”

you storm off, and sukuna bites his cheek as your ribbons swing behind you. his hand finds the spot where you hit his chest and he sighs.

ryomen sukuna needs to get you back. and the sooner he does? the better.

———-

sato gojo has five bomboclat hotdogs in his lap.

how humongous! and worst of all, he refuses to share them with sukuna, who left his own food at the concession stand while his mind fixated on your face. you looked so pretty yelling at him. fuck. has he gone mad?

he shakes the thought away. he has his phone in his hands, facetime call with suguru on screen. toru gojo is setting up a monitor in the background with shaky hands. suguru has his phone at a poor angle and he’s humming into its mic with glee.

sato hooks his mustard-sticky chin over sukuna’s shoulder. “yo, sugu.” he says to the call.

“yo,”

“i have five hotdogs,” sato says humbly. “i’m saving a quarter for you.”

“love your generosity.”

“thank you, brother.”

sukuna shoves sato’s face away, ignoring the pout on his face as he rubs his still-bruised forehead. “suguru. how’s the prep going?”

“we’re all good here,” suguru says, turning the call camera to face toru and the set-up. “toru, you’re on video. say hi.”

“uh—hi!”

“hey, twin!” sato’s chin is back on sukuna’s shoulder. he frowns. “i didn’t save you any hotdogs.”

“that’s okay,” toru pushes up his glasses. “i don’t like hotdogs much anyways.”

suguru laughs behind the camera. “aww. i’ll get you a hotdog, buddy.”

“guys, focus.” sukuna pinches his nose. “the footage. is it ready?”

“yup,” suguru pops the p. just waiting for your signal.”

down on the pitch, the teams are lively.

the stadium is roaring. confetti everywhere, cheers and screams from fangirls and fanboys alike. the campus team jogs out in high spirits. and naoya zenin is there, golden boy of the season, arms in the air and waving like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. sukuna tries not to roll his eyes.

it’s a new season, and this one begins with a speech.

and who else to deliver it but the new captain, naoya? he has his helmet in his arm, grin wide, eyes gleaming. he stands on the podium with a mic to his mouth, and then he clears his throat.

his voice bellows. “GO PANDAS!”

the crowd roars. “go pandas!” sato cheers along. sukuna smacks his head.

“it is my honor, as the new captain of the football team, to welcome you all to the new season. kaisen university has suffered many losses. but this year, under my lead, i swear to you all—victory!”

the crowd roars again. sato is smart enough to not get caught up in the high spirits this time.

naoya raises a hand to calm the crowd. “but first off, i want to say a thank you to our alumni, sponsors, team—“

suguru turns the phone camera to himself, grinning. “i think this is the time?”

“your thinking is correct.”

“hit it, toru.”

toru fumbles with the control panel. he plugs in a mic, and suguru brings his mouth to the head.

“hey naoya,”

suguru’s voice crackles through the stadium speakers. the crowd stills. the football team on the grass is frozen in confusion.

“the alumni, sponsors, team you’re talking about,” you can hear the smile in suguru’s voice. “is it these ones?”

toru hits a button.

the big screen flickers.

the static shifts to a video. it’s one of those out of focus, wobbly snapchat ones, captioned ‘this guy’ with a bunch of laughing emojis. someone says something in the background. naoya scoffs.

“alumni? sponsors? they’re all a bunch of old has-beens with heart conditions,” he spits. “lousy fuckers with too much money. yet they can’t even buy us a trophy. idiots.”

but the video doesn’t end there. naoya is talking while he changes out of his uniform, focused on the locker in front of him. “and this shitty team,“ he bites. “dumb fuckers who would need help to wipe their asses. can’t follow instructions for shit. i see why sukuna fucking left.”

the video ends. all that’s left is the grey replay button on the screen. suguru shifts back away from the mic, holding his phone to his face. “holy shit,” he says into the facetime call. “we fucking did that.”

“yeah,” sukuna says. “we did.”

but he’s distracted. naoya is arguing with someone on field but sukuna doesn’t care to see what that’s about. instead his eyes are on you down near the pitch, your hands gripping the stands. he can’t tell if you’re confused, distraught, happy, sad. it’s fucking killing him. he needs to see your face.

sato climbs unto his chair. he cups his hands around his mouth. “GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!”

sukuna’s eyes widen in alarm, but others are already joining in. OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD! GET NA-O-YA OFF-THE-FIELD!”

on the pitch, naoya’s face flushes in embarrassment. “you sorry sacks of shit! do you fucking know who i am?!”

they’ll never know, because he never has the chance to tell. security guards are escorting him away before he even knows it.

sukuna’s eyes flit down the bleachers. back down to you. he finds you hopping at your seat, ribbons swishing as you chant along with the crowd.

OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!

sukuna’s lip twitches. get him off the field.

———

“OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!”

the chanting of the stadium is still buzzing in sukuna’s ears.

toru gojo left early, body aching with anxiety and in dire need of a nap. sukuna’s decided it’s about time to leave too—college football games aren’t really his thing anymore.

suguru and sato are geeking out over the whole thing behind him as sukuna trudges forward with his hands in his pockets. he’s half-smiling. he still can’t believe the whole scene had you chanting along and hopping eagerly in your seat. so cute. your ribbons were bouncing everywhere. so fucking cute.

“this is all your fault!”

sukuna knows that voice anywhere.

sato and suguru know it too. the smiles quickly leave their faces, brows knitting in alarm. the three quietly speed up towards the corridor, and the scene has sukuna seeing red.

“you dumb fucking whore,” naoya has you cornered against the wall. “all this shit because of you and your crazy, batshit boyfriend. ‘deal’ my fucking asshole. you see how they embarrassed me? because of you?”

sukuna’s already moving. but geto pulls him back. “listen.”

“you can’t pin this on me,” you try to keep your voice steady, but sukuna knows how your voice gets when you’re about to snap. naoya’s face is too close to yours for his liking. “you’re the one who said all that stupid shit. take some fucking responsibility.”

“responsibility?” naoya’s teeth curl. his breath is hot against your lip. “deal my fucking ass. this was your plan all along wasn’t it, stupid bitch? date me and get closer to me so you can sabotage me along with your boyfriend—”

“naoya,” your voice is dangerous. “i’m warning you, get back.”

“or what?” he spits in your face. “you’ll call your big bad boyfriend to save you? run to him like some stupid little whore—?”

you slap naoya silly.

and for a moment, sukuna’s shoulders un-tense. he’s been holding his breath the entire time, fingers curled into the wall, suguru’s hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward. but fuck, he’s proud. that’s his fucking girl. fuck. why’d he have to go and lose you?

but he can’t relax for long.

“you fucking bitch!”

naoya shoves you against the wall and you thud against it. sukuna doesn’t have to pry geto’s hand away—they’re already charging in.

naoya’s eyes widen as soon as he sees the trio. suguru swings. sato punches. but naoya dodges both, shoulder bumping into them as he slips between the two. he should be stopped by sukuna—but sukuna charges straight to your side, tugging you to his chest, breath heaving. naoya zenin escapes.

suguru and sato’s eyes flit towards the exit. their breathing is sharp, ragged. their eyes drift back to you in alarm. fuck. you’re more important.

sukuna hugs you to his chest, tight. his hand presses your head under his chin. he wants to pretend you’re not fucking shaking in his arms, but god you are, god—you are.

“you’re okay, baby,” he lies. your hand is fisting his collar like you want to pull him closer—or maybe push him away. “you’re okay. i’ve got you, you’re okay.”

you squeeze his collar. “ryo,” your voice is small, “don’t go after him.”

“i won’t baby, swear to god i won’t.”

but that’s just another lie. he presses your head further into his chest, palm heavy on your head. and then he mouths to suguru and sato:

GO. FUCKING. KILL HIM.

they don’t need to be told twice.

“ryo,” you whisper in his chest. “where are they going?”

“they’re giving us privacy,” he lies, and you’ll hate him for it tomorrow but he’ll settle for holding you today. he kisses your head. “are you hurt? hit your head? look at me.”

he can feel your lips jut out in his chest. “i’m fine.”

“i told you to look at me.”

you grumble, but oblige regardless. and god, sukuna’s heart aches. you have your chin on his chest, lashes tear rimmed, cheeks flushed and lips jut out in a stubborn pout. your eyes are glistening with wet. sukuna’s jaw aches.

naoya zenin has got to go to hell.

and he’ll send him there personally. he kisses your forehead, “gorgeous.” and then his thumbs wipe your lashes. “i’m gonna check if you’re concussed. do you have a headache?”

“this is so stupid,” you grumble. “i’m not concussed. and you know it.”

sukuna ignores you, cups your face in his palms. “what day of the week is it?”

“monday.” you grumble.

“gonna say some numbers, say them back to me in reverse,” he strokes your cheek. “four-two-four-two-five-six-four.”

you say them back perfectly. sukuna kisses your forehead. “good job baby,” he murmurs. “smart girl. does anything hurt?”

“no.”

“don’t lie to me.”

you rest the side of your face on his chest, pausing for a moment. then you raise a hand to grip his bicep. “my head hurts. just a little.”

“anything else?”

“i was scared,” you mutter, small. “i was so scared, ryo.”

naoya zenin has got to go to hell.

it’s the second time sukuna thinks that, but he shakes the thought away. he squeezes your hips. tilts your chin so you’re looking up at his face. your lashes are wet & your lips are wobbly & ryomen sukuna thinks you are grace.

“shh,” his thumb rubs your bottom lip. “you’re safe. you’re always safe with me.”

“i know,” your voice croaks as you nod.

“fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, nose, cheek, forehead. he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. and then he finds your lips, tongue licking your mouth before he kisses you deep and slow.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between your lips. “m’gonna kill naoya.”

“noo,” you whine, tugging his collar. “i told you not to do that.”

sukuna kisses his teeth, stepping back so he can hoist you up into his arms. his hands dip beneath your thighs to haul you up, and now you’re peering down at him through those sad, wet lashes. he kisses the pout off your lips. squeezes your thighs with his big hands. opens his mouth to say—

“i knocked that sucker out the park!”

sato and geto saunter back into the corridor, grins wicked, steps light. their knuckles are bloody and their jaws are bruised and their smiles are so bright they’re practically gleaming.

you turn to look at them. sukuna grabs the back of your head and pushes you into his shoulder. you pout into his neck as he keeps his palm heavy on your head.

sato is shadowboxing. “right hook—left hook—“ he punches the air. “clean hit to the jaw. taught the bloody wanker a good fucking lesson.” he fakes a british accent.

suguru nods, hands in his pockets & smile smug. “it was a good punch.”

“right?!”

sukuna’s lip tugs. he clicks his tongue as sato fakes punches at suguru, suguru dodging them with lazy laughter. sukuna clears his throat. sato and suguru perk up.

“take her to the nurse,” his voice is low. “make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”

suguru steps forward and sukuna gently moves you into his arms. you frown up at suguru. “i’m not concussed.”

geto only chuckles, shifting your thigh over his arm to lift you better. “i don’t think so either. but your boyfriend runs a strict program, doesn’t he?”

“ex-boyfriend,” you bite. “and he’s not stricter than me.” “never,” suguru smiles. “you’re the strictest.”

sukuna scoffs behind you. sato just says he likes your ribbons.

he watches the boys leave with you. sato bouncing beside geto, you still arguing in suguru’s arms. but then he thinks about naoya. thinks about how he called his girl a whore, how he had the guts to shove you against a wall instead of just taking your slap like a fucking man. his jaw locks.

his feet are already moving. but then he remembers. don’t go after him.

he’s already broken that promise, already sent sato and suguru to beat him bloody. and he trusts his frat brothers, trusts they didn’t go easy on him. but his knuckles ache. he wants to beat naoya down so fucking badly.

but he knows if he sees naoya now, it will only end in death. and sukuna won’t be the one in the deathbed.

sukuna slams his fist into the wall. “fuck!”

SUGURU’S REMARK: CHILLL. WE CONTROLLED THAT

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #3: ON THE OFFENSE !

taught by: toji zenin

‘want your girl back? then get fucking serious. stop playing her damn games and show her who’s the man.’

ΣΧ

“i have to kill naoya zenin.”

on toji zenin’s bedroom floor, ryomen sukuna’s jaw is tight. his hands dig into his thighs and suguru sits beside him with worried eyes. toji zenin is on the edge of his bed, running a brush through a jet black lace front wig. his son, five-and-a-half year old megumi zenin, sits beside him with a beach blond color 613 bone-straight wig on his head.

megumi tugs his father’s sleeve, voice flat.

“daddy, i have a buss down.”

toji doesn’t look up from his mannequin. “looks great, kiddo.”

toji zenin is twenty-four, stubble on his chin and single-ish student dad. single-ish because megumi’s mother left him when he turned twenty-one, but now he’s engaged to a pretty rich lady who sukuna still can’t believe forgave him for his lies. whatever—that’s a story for another day. even though toji’s girl is rich, he still insists on picking up odd jobs here and there to support him and meg rather than relying on her money. he’s currently working as a wig influencer for ISEEHAIR®.

on sukuna’s right, suguru has his hair in twin braids—courtesy of megumi zenin—and the same kind of ribbons you wore on game day—courtesy of SlayedBySato. he pats sukuna’s shoulder. “hey man, it’s okay. she’s okay.”

“you don’t fucking know that,” sukuna spits. “you don’t know it that bastard is still around her. i should’ve fucking killed him. slammed his skull into the wall back in the stadium.”

megumi blinks, gaze flat. he tugs his father’s sleeve. “daddy, is uncle kuna okay?”

“he’s in love,” toji answers, reaching for the hot comb. “makes you stupid.”

megumi nods, blond wisps of hair sticking to his cheek. then he stares at uncle sukuna for a bit longer before sliding his chubby body off the bed. “i’m gonna lay my edges.”

megumi zenin pads away.

suguru smiles after him. but then his smile dissolves, and he shifts his gaze back to sukuna. sukuna’s jaw is still tight, eyes glaring daggers at toji’s bedroom floor, and suguru elbows his side. “relax, man. brooding’s not gonna fix anything.”

“suguru’s right,” toji grumbles. “sato and suguru already beat him down. that didn’t make you feel better, did it?”

sukuna squints.

“you want your girl back? stop playing her damn games,” toji continues. “show her she can’t just keep playing around. you’ve embarrassed naoya, sabotaged him. all you’ve done is play along with her bratty lil’ antics.”

megumi’s voice comes from the other room. “daddy, can you help me lay my edges?”

“in a minute, kid.” toji doesn’t look up from the mannequin. “you want your girl? beat her at her own fucking game.”

sukuna grits his teeth. suguru slings an arm around him, braids swinging. “there’s a party for the football team tonight,” he says. “pretty sure y/n will be there again.”

sukuna swallows. thinks about it. and then the door swings open.

in comes sato gojo with megumi zenin in his arms. the five year old has wig edges laid, hair on fleek, and there is no doubt he’s been SlayedBySato.

sato’s grin is clumsy.

“did someone say party?”

# SHOW TIME !

at the party, the bass is so loud the speakers are moving.

not a lot—just a little—but the sound is so loud that sato is pouting as suguru helps him cover his ears. geto yells at some footballer to turn the music down. it takes them too long to comply.

sukuna is on a couch trying to ignore the babe curling herself into his side.

pamela? no—pairin. hair dyed mauve & flushed pink cheeks & a pretty nice rack—not that sukuna is looking. well he did look, he’s just a man and she’s got some pretty nice tits, but it’s okay. he still thinks yours are perkier.

pairin is trailing a hand up his thigh.

“ryo,” she coos. “it’s been forever. i’ve missed you.”

it has been forever. ryomen sukuna hasn’t slept with pairin, or any other girl for that matter, since he started dating you. yes you’ve broken up and gotten back together a hundred times, and technically when you’re broken up he’s a free man, but sukuna knows if he dared to touch another woman even when you’re not with him he’d never hear the end of it. so he’s always been patient. always waited.

which is why it’s not fucking fair for you to let naoya curl up behind you right now.

his eyes narrow. ryomen sukuna watches as naoya slips behind you at the bar, arm around your waist once again. fucking idiot. sukuna doesn’t even care about his arm on your waist instead of your hips anymore. once he gets his hands on naoya, he won’t even have an arm to begin with.

but sukuna doesn’t understand it.

he knows his girl. he knows you. he knows you bark more than you bite, he knows you’re bratty and stubborn and selfish and petty, and he knows men like naoya zenin are not your fucking type. he knows you would never put up with a man who would even yell at you—he found that out the hard way. so how could you let naoya touch you so casually after he dared to disrespect you?

are you really moving on?

he’s heard about it before. boundaries crumbling when people fall in love. is that what’s happening here? is naoya manipulating you? are you being pressured? can he kill him?

or do you actually—god forbid—like naoya?

sukuna scoffs. fucking hell if you do. he’ll kill naoya so you have no one to love. he’ll be damned if the man who steals your heart after him is one that doesn’t even know how to hold you right. naoya zenin will die today. ryomen sukuna will make sure of it.

“ryo,” pairin coos. when did her tits press against his chest?

she’s shifted so much that she’s practically on top of him, thigh digging into his hip. sukuna kisses his teeth. “don’t fucking call me that.”

pairin pouts, sliding a hand down his chest. “so mean. ever since you started dating that girl, you’ve become so mean to me.”

sukuna hears a laugh. it’s you, laughing at something the bartender says. another poor man who will be joining sukuna’s kill list. or maybe not, since you seem happy. you take a sip of your drink and frown when a drop lands on your chest. so cute.

pairin lifts a hand to shift his jaw back to her face. “you’re smiling.”

“yeah,” his voice is bored. “not at you.”

she frowns. “you used to be fun.”

“i used to be single.”

he still is right now, but not for long. never for long. he watches as you take another cup from the bartender. that’s drink number three. behind you naoya presses his face into your neck, and sukuna watches as you ease into him.

ryomen sukuna is blinded by rage.

he’s not quite thinking when he does it. he’s not quite thinking when he grabs pairin by the back of her neck, shoving her lips onto his. she squeaks, “mmph—!” as sukuna presses his lips against her. she tries to sneak her tongue past his lips. he keeps his mouth shut.

sukuna sees it.

he keeps his eyes open the whole time, and across the bar he watches your face lift. you’re laughing, you always are, but then your gaze drifts across the room to him.

the drink in your hand nearly drops.

you do that little thing where your chest heaves—anxious?—and your fingers curl tight around the cup in your hands. your brows furrow like you’re glaring but your lips are wobbly, oh god, they’re so wobbly—

he pushes pairin off his lap.

but it’s too late. you’re already off your chair, scrambling, and sukuna can’t see that well from this far but he knows your eyes are wet. he saw that tear slip down your cheek. he bolts for the exit but someone pulls him back by the shoulder—

“sukuna?” sato’s brows are knit. “what the fuck? what’s wrong man?”

sukuna’s chest is still heaving. his eyes are still on the door.

ryomen sukuna has lost the girl once again.

TOJI’S REMARK: NOT THAT KIND OF OFFENSE, IDIOT.

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #4: SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE !

taught by: sato gojo

“girls like y/n? they like to keep things difficult. and your prefer it just like that, don’t you?”

ΣΧ

ryomen sukuna hasn’t left his room in days.

two weeks. it’s been two weeks since he kissed another girl and watched you leave with tears in your eyes. and sukuna’s disgusted. stomach against the mattress and head buried in a pillow. you’re pretty when you cry—you’re always pretty—but not so much when he’s the cause of your tears.

SlayedBySato is officially blocked by you on instagram. sato’s tried to come in to cheer sukuna up, but to no avail. sukuna won’t eat anything suguru cooks, or any food at all for that matter. megumi sometimes opens his door and stares at him with bored eyes before leaving. toru comes into his room to sit on the floor and read. he’s always shaky & anxious and glancing up at sukuna every five seconds when he does that, but he still comes in to offer his company anyways.

sukuna’s scrolling through his phone, eyes watching nothing in particular. he gets a notification. probably suguru offering him food. maybe just team snapchat. he ignores it. but then his phone chimes again.

[ mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx ]

sukuna’s brows knit. you have him blocked. that can’t be you.

but he clicks the message anyways. and it is you, and the first thing that greets him is your profile picture. you’re smiling big into the camera, angle low & silly, and somehow you still manage to look bright and beautiful. sukuna swallows. scrolls down to your new messages.

mine🫀: i know what you did at that party was just to get my attention. mine🫀: since u wanna be pathetic i’ll give you more opportunity to do so mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx

sukuna clicks the document. there are no greetings, no ‘to whom may be concerned’, no date or titles. just three things.

WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.

CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037

APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.

his phone chimes again.

mine🫀: you have one week. if you want me back you’ll complete everything on this list. if u dc just ignore it. mine🫀: bye sukuna.

sukuna stares at the list. studies every word. contemplates each task.

and then he laughs.

yeah. that’s his fucking girlfriend.

# SHOW TIME

sukuna trudges into the frathouse living room with his laptop under his arm. at the center table sato is already there, humming contentedly while playing a game of monopoly by himself. he perks up when he hears the sound of the door.

“well, well,” sato sings. “look who crawled out of my grandfather’s ass.”

“what does that even mean?”

“ignore him,” suguru hums. he steps out from the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot jollof rice in his hands. he scoops some with his spoon, blows on it, and offers a bite to sukuna. “here, try some.”

“mm,” sukuna murmurs, leaning down for a bite. it’s hot, chewy—but then sukuna frowns.

“there’s no maggi in this rice.”

geto’s face falls. “no more food for you.”

whatever. sukuna sits at the center table, setting up his laptop right over sato’s monopoly game. he ignores sato’s protests as he opens up your shopping cart. “she sent me a list.” he announces. “of stuff i have to do if i want her back.”

suguru slides in at the opposite side of the table, brows raised. “show us.”

WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.

CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037

APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.

sato blinks at the screen. “dick n’ balls,” he smiles wide. “i love your girlfriend.”

“tread lightly.”

suguru squints at the last item. “this is bad. she’s saying she wants you to confess in front of the whole school? like on game day?” his eyes lift to sukuna. “the dean might actually suspend you if we pull something. you know how much trouble i got in when they heard my voice on the speakers?”

“i had to pay him out of trouble,” sato shudders. “and it wasn’t cheap.”

sukuna frowns. if sato’s complaining? it definitely wasn’t cheap.

but sukuna only opens up your cart, taking in the items on screen. he’s not surprised when he scrolls through the items. lingerie from bordelle & agent provocateur, bags from dior and bottega vennetta, shoes, makeup—the high end kind—and then a bunch of sex toys, also unnecessarily overpriced. his lips tug when he notices a pair of lacy black panties. he already knows that’s for him.

or it could be for naoya to fuck you in, so his face falls.

sato slumps against sukuna’s shoulder. “wow. pricey stuff.”

“she likes nice things,” he mutters, double checking the items. he makes sure everything is in CAD and not USD, and then he checks out. nearly $5000 on clothing, accessories, lingerie. CIBC sends him a notification for possible fraud on his card immediately. he clicks no, this was me.

suguru whistles. “well, that’s that.” he leans back on his palms. “on to task number two?”

——

sukuna taps his pencil against the paper in front of him. “how do i spell exquisite.”

“e-s-q, u-z-t,” sato answers proudly. “all you have to do is sound out the vowels. i learned that trick back in freshman year.”

“there are no vowels in what you just spelled.”

suguru drags a palm over his face. he watches as sato strokes his chin, both he and sukuna staring at the half-empty letter with intense focus. he’s not sure whether to start with explaining to sato that this is not the spelling of exquisite, or if he should let sukuna know that ‘e’ and ‘u’ are indeed vowels.

he chooses to do neither. “sukuna, what do you need the word ‘exquisite’ for?”

“i need to tell her her ass is exquisite.”

“in her apology letter?”

“Yes.”

oh, okay. actually no—it’s not okay. suguru pinches his nose. “this is an apology letter. what does her ass have to do with this?!”

“she likes when i say nice things about her body,” sukuna mumbles, low. geto softens. that’s actually sweet.

“i’m gonna tell her i like her nipples.”

suguru snatches the letter from his hands.

he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop to the poorly written text, and he’s reading it in his head before he can think any better of it: Hello, I am sorry. Your ass is esquizit. Come back to me. Nipples.

“jesus fucking christ,” suguru breathes.

sukuna scowls at him. “you didn’t let me finish the last sentence.”

sato hugs his knees. “i like this letter.”

suguru ignores them. he puts the letter aside, and tears out a new sheet of paper from the notepad on the table. “look, ryomen. i know you’re not good with words. and i know y/n it’s important to you. so we’re gonna help you.”

sato leans back on his palms. “yup, we are.”

“i meant i’m gonna help him,” suguru glares at sato. “tell me what’s on your mind. what you think. what you feel in your chest when you think about her. if she looked you in the eye and told you she was upset about all you’ve done, what would you say to her?”

sukuna scowls at nothing in particular, pondering. “i’d kiss her.”

“that’s what you would do,” suguru wags his pencil. “what would you say?”

sukuna thinks a bit harder. he thinks about how you look when you’re sad, how you don’t laugh, how your bottom lip juts out in that wobbly pout that makes his stomach hurt. he thinks about how you’d cuss at him before the tears fall, and then you’d grip his collar while spitting teary insults, before collapsing in his chest and letting him kiss your cheek till you quiet down. sukuna thinks very hard.

“i’d tell her i’m sorry,” he says. “and that i hate it when she cries.”

suguru nods. “go on,”

“i’d tell her i was scared,” he murmurs. “of her moving on. of her finding someone better.” he breathes. “i don’t want her to be with anyone that’s not me.”

suguru and sato stay silent.

“i don’t even care about naoya,” sukuna’s voice is tired. his palm slides over his face. “i just want her to be with me.”

“aww,” sato coos.

“shut up.”

but sukuna doesn’t shove sato away when he leans over to hug his head. sato pats sukuna’s face into his chest. “suguru,” sukuna mutters. “can you say that i miss her?”

“already did.”

suguru turns the paper around to reveal the words. sukuna squints to make out the words behind the pretty cursive.

dear y/n, i know i've said sorry a thousand times. i know it doesn't mean much coming from me. but i mean it. i'm sorry for the party. i'm sorry for kissing someone else. i'm sorry for making you cry. i hate it when you cry, hate when i make you sad. i hate it when you look at me like you don't trust me anymore. i was scared. scared you were moving on. scared you were finding someone better. i was scared i was losing you for good. i don't care about naoya. i don't care about other women. i don't care about any of it. i just want you. i want to earn you back. i want to earn your trust. i want to be the person you deserve. i love you. i've never loved anyone else like you. i don't want to love anyone else. please give me a chance to prove it. — sukuna

sukuna blinks at the letter. “i sound pathetic.”

“you are pathetic,” suguru sets it down. “for y/n at least.”

he is, isn’t he?

suguru taps his pencil against the table. “so, do you like it? or shall we draft a new one?”

sukuna thinks about it. sato is still patting his head.

“nah,” he says. “it’s perfect.”

SATO’S REMARK: OH WE’RE SO GETTING HER BACK

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #5: HAVE YOU EVER APOLOGIZED WITH YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE ?!

taught by: nanami kento

“this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”

ΣΧ

the letter is done. the shopping cart is cleared. but the boys of sigma chi can’t rest just yet.

they do so anyway. suguru is sprawled lazily on the couch, legs spread and popcorn bucket in his hands. sato has his cheek on geto’s chest, curled up beside him. and even sukuna is leaning into the warmth, legs crossed on the floor and his head against suguru’s leg. the tv is playing something none of them truly care about.

suguru takes a bite of popcorn, teeth sticky. “how the fuck are we gonna pull off the last task?”

sato tosses a kernel into sukuna’s open mouth. “i have no idea.”

suguru pops another kernel between his lips, and then feeds a bite through sato’s open mouth on his chest. “before we even get to that—i’ve been thinking. what about that deal naoya mentioned? back in the stadium?”

sato and sukuna perk up.

sukuna’s jaw ticks again. he’s tried not to think about it. tried not to think about how naoya dared to raise his voice at you, how he dared to shove you back in his anger. he licks his canines. his chest is hot.

“i’ve been thinking about it too,” sato says. “ i have a theory.”

“uh oh.”

“don’t be mean,” sato pouts, and suguru pulls his cheek lovingly. he leans off suguru’s chest, palms still on his shoulders for balance. “my theory? y/n wants to make sukuna jealous. naoya wants him jealous too. boom. they work together and date.”

suguru nods. “but now, naoya thinks y/n is dating him so she and sukuna can work together to trash his reputation,” he muses. “and so he’s treating her badly.”

sukuna’s nails dig into his palms.

he knew you wanted him jealous—that’s obvious. but the thought of his stupid antics putting you in danger? with naoya? fuck. you’re a sharp girl. but you’re all bark and no bite. what the fuck is he supposed to do if naoya even thinks of disrespecting you again?

he speaks up. “back at the party. the one we went to after the game,” he bites his cheek. “i saw her with him again. that’s why i got mad. kissed that pamela bitch.”

“pairin.”

“i don’t give a fuck.” sukuna grumbles. “but that’s not what tripped me up. she was with naoya again—even after how he treated her.” his fingers dig into the couch. “she drags me by the ear when i raise my voice just slightly. why would she stay by naoya after all that? just to make me jealous?”

geto thinks out loud. “what if he has something on her?”

the boys go quiet.

for you to stay with someone like naoya, genuine or not? sukuna knows it must be something serious. he leans off the couch, turns to his boys.

“we need to start planning that final task.”

# SHOW TIME !

“kenny,” suguru begs. “please. we need your help.”

nanami pushes up his glasses. “immediately no.”

the theatre hall is humongous.

thousands of students fitted into velvet seats. there’s some ceremony today—what it’s about, sukuna doesn’t know—but he knows it’s the only opportunity he has to fulfill your last task. the next gameday is a week away, past the one week timeframe you specified.

sukuna also knows you’re in the crowd. he’d seen you sitting close to the front. right next to naoya.

god, you looked gorgeous. low cut top that exposes your plush breasts because you have no sense of time and place. skirt short as always, bunched up around your thighs, and lashes fluttering. bored. you looked hopelessly bored and beautiful next to naoya, and it wasn’t till shoko slipped into the seat beside you that your glossy lips smiled again. fuck. sukuna hopes he’ll get to speak to you soon.

but right now, he and the boys are trying to convince nanami to let him show up on stage in place of presenting his speech.

they’re all backstage. sigma chi treasurer nanami kento is sat at a makeshift desk, tie pin straight, expression flat as usual. “i will not allow you to take over my speech in the name of love and sacrifice. this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”

“nanaken, you’re not listening,” sato shakes his shoulders. “this is a matter of life and death—our last chance to help sukuna get his girl back.” sato pleads. “if we don’t succeed, he’ll be depressed!”

“i won’t be depressed.”

“he’ll be depressed!”

nanami only pinches his nose.

“look,” suguru starts, leaning over the table with his palms. “let’s make a deal. you let us crash your speech? sato buys you all the BL manhwa you want.”

nanami perks up. “BL?”

sato frowns. “sato?”

“exactly,” suguru says. “i know you’re tired of reading semantic error on a screen. we’ll get you all the physical copies—and whatever other BL you have on your reading list. all you have to do is let us crash your set.”

nanami thinks about it. thinks about how nice it’d be to see jang jaeyoung on a page, how he’d be able to have the story right there between his fingertips. he thinks about it. ponders hard.

and then he nods. “you’ve got yourselves a deal.”

——

each speech passes by way too fast.

well honestly, not fast enough. the audience is snoozing. they forget to clap after some speeches, and in the crowd sukuna can see you watching, bored. you have your head against shoko’s shoulder, phone in your hands. a man in a suit walks up to the stage to remind the audience of ‘etiquette’ and ‘keeping their phones away’. you roll your eyes and take a selfie with shoko, lips puckered out.

god, he misses you.

he closes the backstage curtains. suguru is waving his speech around. “you’re up next, man. you ready?”

sukuna swallows. why the fuck does he feel anxious? sukuna doesn’t do anxious. angry? horny? yes. but anxious?

he swipes the speech from suguru’s hands. “yeah. m’ready.”

———

sukuna is not ready.

but he’s not anxious either, so that’s a win. his body’s vibrating with something he can’t quite name. the audience is clapping away as the current presenter leaves.

suguru claps his back. “go.”

and go he does. he rips the velvet curtains apart and trudges his way to the podium. his hands are in his pockets and his gaze is bored and through the corner of his eyes all he can see is you you you.

you, with your brows furrowed and lips in a pout he wants to kiss off. you stare after him with big eyes, before your eyes go even bigger. he watches you facepalm.

that shouldn’t make him laugh. he sets his speech on the podium.

in the audience, shoko is nudging your shoulder. “girl. isn’t that your man?”

naoya turns to frown at her. “excuse me?”

you and shoko ignore him. “i have no idea what he’s up to.” you lie.

on the podium sukuna clears his throat. the TVs overhead are zoomed in on his face. his hair is golden-red under the lights, and sweat glistens on his skin, and sukuna takes in a deep breath.

“my name is ryomen sukuna, and i’m the previous captain of the pandas football team.”

some people whistle and cheer. others watch in silent confusion. naoya is gritting his teeth beside you and shoko is squeezing your thigh.

“i’m here to make a confession in light of recent events within our campus community,” sukuna murmurs into the mic. god, fuck geto suguru and his pretty cursive. sukuna can’t read shit.

“at the first game of the season,” sukuna clears his throat. “there was a video broadcast that interrupted the flow of the ceremony. i profusely apologize for that,” he says. “i was the one responsible.”

gasps fill the arena.

“it’s unsportsmanlike, i know.” he adjusts the mic. “whether the contents of the video are honest or not, to broadcast them during the ceremony was uncalled for and inappropriate. i had no good or honest intentions behind it.” he grits his teeth, eyes leaving the script.

“i wanted to embarrass naoya.”

the crowd is silent, and sukuna finds your eyes.

you’re looking right at him with an expresssion he can’t make out. beside you naoya is there, arm around your seat, and anger seeps into his chest. naoya has a black eye—he’ll have to thank suguru and sato for that. he’ll also have to give him a matching one on his left eye.

he continues his speech.

“naoya zenin, captain of the pandas, stole my girlfriend.” he spits into the mic. “so i chose to embarrass him publicly. that’s it. that’s my reason.”

the audience is muttering, talking amongst themselves. some people have their phone’s up, recording. some are enraged. some girls are swooning.

“y/n l/n—fuck,” he spits into the mic, gaze bleary. he’s gripping the podium with both arms now, head down and away from the cameras. “evil fucking girl,” he murmurs.

“you don’t want him, baby,” he breathes against the mic.

“come back to me.”

the theatre is silent.

and then it roars

single ladies. girlfriends. boyfriends. members of the football team who miss life under sukuna’s reign. they’re all cheering for him, loud and unrestrained. clapping as sukuna grips the podium with his eyes on the hardwood. the headlights flash on his face and he squints to look past them, eyes lifting towards the audience.

you’re not at your seat.

why?

did you miss the end of the speech? sukuna blames himself. he didn’t even have the guts to look up at you as he breathed out the last line, and now he’ll never know if you heard the very words he’s been wanting to say. sukuna almost laughs. his eyes are hot but he almost laughs.

the audience is still roaring. sukuna rips his speech off the podium and walks off the stage.

NANAMI’S REMARK: SO ALL THAT FOR WHAT?

BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: NEVER LOSE ME.

taught by: y/n l/n

“never had a bitch like me in your life”

❤︎⁠

when sukuna trudges through the curtains, sato and suguru are already there.

faces flushed, chests heaving. “holy fucking shit—“ suguru pulls sukuna’s head into his arms. “you fucking did that.”

he did. so why does he feel so damn empty?

sato is practically bouncing, worming his way into the hug. “you did that!” he cheers. “did you see y/n’s face? was she cheering too—?”

“she left.”

sato and suguru freeze.

suguru pulls away first. sukuna’s face is dull, downcast—and his eyes are dark and soulless. “oh no—” suguru mutters. he holds sukuna’s face. “did you see when she left?”

“no,” he murmurs. no, he didn’t.

“fuck,” sato curses. “fucking hell, man—isn’t this low? even for her?”

suguru pulls sukuna’s head back under his chin. sukuna doesn’t resist or protest. just stares at the wood floor with empty eyes. but then a voice calls his name.

“ryomen sukuna. are you brooding?”

if god liked him, it would’ve been you. standing there in your short skirt and skimpy top and a teasing smile on your lips. mocking his misery. grinning up at him.

but instead it’s shoko ieri, brown hair under a bucket hat.

under normal circumstances, he’d be happy to see her. sukuna likes most of your friends. they’re all pretty party girls like you, a bunch of twenty-something year olds who think life is about bourbon glasses and friday mornings passed out in the backseat of someone’s car. they’re wild but they’re all nice girls, and they’re good to you so that’s fucking that.

but he doesn’t want to see your friends. sukuna wants to see you.

suguru brushes sukuna’s hair back. “shoko. to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“relax, geto. i’m not here to cause trouble,” she hums, leaning against a beam. “just here to pass across a message.”

she muses. “backstage dressing room. one-hundred two, not hundred and one,” shoko recites. “i have to leave now, but don’t be late. and sukuna,” she pauses to look at him. “no backup. just you.”

she turns away with a lilt in her steps, and the boys of sigma chi are left staring at each other in confusion. the message is clear though, and sukuna wipes his face.

room 112. got it.

# SHOW TIME !

ryomen sukuna comes in alone.

the door to room 112 pushes open with a creaak. the dressing room is racks and racks of clothing, some on the floor, some strewn across tables, and mirrors upon mirrors. the vanities still have their lights glowing orange. the room smells like rust and girl.

sukuna finds you in front of a mirror.

you’re checking yourself out, neon pink feather boa around your shoulders. on your head is a comically large sun hat, and there’s a bright green belt flung around your waist. you don’t look up when he walks in. just shift your hips in the mirror, skirt swishing around your thighs.

“you like my outfit?” you hum, still facing the mirror.

you look silly. if he was in a better mood, he’d probably smile. but instead he trudges forward and leans back against the table behind you. “yeah. looks cute.”

“hmm,” you fit your hands over your hips. “i still feel like it’s missing something.”

sukuna stays quiet.

you walk over to a bunch of boxes, pulling out all sorts of costume pieces. your tone is sing-song. “i heard your little speech.”

sukuna plays with the bracelet on his wrist. it’s not a bracelet. it’s one of your bra straps, actually, and he’d forgotten he put it on before the speech. it’s suddenly itchy against his wrist. “you liked it?”

“i thought it was cute,” you hum, inspecting a tie. you walk over to him, and sukuna spreads his legs a bit so you can slip between his thighs. you hold the tie up to him. “can you help me?”

he takes the tie from your hands. fits it over your neck quietly. he’s folding the ribbon around your neck, pretending he can’t feel your breath on his lips.

he murmurs, “i don’t understand what you’re doing, baby.”

his palm leaves your tie to cup your cheek. your gloss smudges against his palm. “what do you mean? i’m getting dressed up.”

his thumb strokes your cheek. “please don’t play dumb.”

you snuggle into his palm, humming contentedly. sukuna’s thumb still strokes your cheek. his other hand has come up squeeze your hip, then snake around it, then pull you closer into him.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips.

“for what?”

“for kissing another girl,” he murmurs. “for even looking at her. for being difficult. always giving you a reason to turn around and leave, then begging you to come back.” he cups your face.

“i love you. i’ve never loved any girl the way i love you.”

you trail a palm down his chest. “come back to me,” you repeat his speech.

“come back,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your spine. “come back to me, baby.”

you giggle as he leans closer to steal your lips. ryomen sukuna tastes like strawberry and spearmint.

Y/N’S REMARK: GUESS WHO’S BACK <3

COUPLE TACTICS #1 : DICKMEDOWN—WHO SAID THAT?!

taught by: ryomen sukuna’s cock

“there is no quote. i am a cock.”

❤︎⁠

in ryomen sukuna’s bedroom, he has his back against the headboard and his girlfriend in his lap.

you’re half naked. clad in nothing but a lacy bra and matching black panties, giggling as you pose into his macbook camera. you lift another bra up to check it against your chest. ryomen sukuna squeezes your thigh.

“you like this one?” he murmurs behind you, reaching his hand up to grope your breast. “wasn’t in the cart. added it myself.”

“it’s so pretty,” you coo, lashes fluttering. “thank you, ryo.”

“you’re welcome, princess.”

it’s just two days after the whole speech at the theatre. ryomen sukuna watches you with bleary eyes. he leans back against the headboard, watching as you shrug off your bra to try another one he bought. he reaches up to graze his thumb over your pebbled nipple and you giggle, before sliding backwards to lean back against his chest. he squeezes your tits in his palms before kissing your cheek.

“love this set,” he murmurs against your ear. he’s twisting your nipple in one hand & the other is already sliding down over your belly, down to your lacy black panties. “so pretty on you.”

“mmh,” your thighs squeeze as his hand slips below the fabric, finding your wet, aching clit. he rubs the pad of his thumb over it in circles. kisses your cheek again when you whine.

“missed you,” he murmurs. “so bad, pretty.”

“mhm,” you breathe. you want to bite back with something sassy but ryomen sukuna is kneading your breast while his thumb fingers your clit. he slips in another finger and rolls the bud between them. your thighs squeeze around him.

“ryo,” you purr. “you’re gonna get them dirty.”

“i know,” he shushes you. “just wanna feel you.”

and feel you he does. he pushes your body up on his chest and latches his hot mouth around your nipple. “mmh—,” he groans, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak. “fuck, missed this.”

his fingers rub harder against your clit. faster, faster, until your hips arch of the bed and your thighs shake around him. he can already see slick coating your inner thighs, and your moans in his ear only make him rub harder. “fuck,” he curses. fuck fuck fuck.

your lashes go sticky with tears. your clit is wet and throbbing around his fingers. your thighs shake as you reach your high, and sukuna has to shove his lips to yours to quiet your moans. he licks his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet and sloppy, palm settling to gently rub your clit through your high.

you gasp, pulling away. your lashes are sticky & your cheeks flushed hot. “i missed you.”

he kisses you again, soft. “missed you too.”

he slips your panties off your thighs, holding your naked body against him. “missed this pussy too,” he rasps. “gonna stuff you till you’re cumming on my cock.”

you squirm against him, swatting his chest as he unzips his trousers. “but i just came!”

“you’ll come again, pretty.”

he fumbles with the zipper, slipping out his heavy, hard cock. his cockhead is throbbing and sticky with precum, and he shifts you forward so your back is against his chest.

“go slow,” you whimper, already nervous.

he kisses your shoulder. “you don’t want that.”

and you don’t. you arch into him as he slips his cock into your puffy, slick-coated folds from behind. he smears precum and slick over them with his cockhead, kissing your shoulder as you shiver against him. “relax, you’re okay. you still on the pill, baby?”

you nod shyly. he kisses your neck.

sukuna’s cock is thick. heavy and swollen and pulsing between your slobbering foods. he pushes his hips into you, letting your pussy squelch around him, and his arm fits under your body so he can grope your perky breasts. he tugs on a nipple before rolling it between his fingers. fuck.

you whimper as his cock stretches you out, sliding deeper and deeper into your folds. “fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so fucking hot. so tight. so wet.”

you whimper as his fingers find your clit again. he circles it hard, hips bucking to push his cock deeper into you before sliding back out, palms still fondling your breasts. it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and he can hardly blame you for whining against him. “ryo—”

“shh—you’re good, you’re doing so good,” he rasps as you clench around his cock. “so fucking good. you know how good you feel around my cock, baby? m’so fucking lucky—.”

he’s shushing you but his hips only buck faster and faster. your eyes squeeze shut as he breathes. “fuck, gonna cum—“

your walls quiver around him as you come together, white hot cum stuffed between your folds. you groan, ragged, as sukuna pants into your neck. he kisses your shoulder before resting his head against your neck.

“i love you,” he rasps.

“i love you too.”

you stay like that for a moment, holding each other before he kisses your shoulder. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

——

“you have a lot of explaining to do.”

sukuna comes back with new shorts hanging low on his v-line. he has a warm cloth in his hands, and he climbs over your sore body. even now you’re still smiling up at him, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. “whatever do you mean?”

“don’t play dumb,” he kisses your cheek before gently nudging your thighs open. he slides the cloth down your inner thigh, ignoring the way you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair. “you have to explain. why you went to naoya.”

“but what if i don’t want to?”

“you will,” he says. he slides your panties up your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit before slipping them all the way up.

but then he changes his mind. slips your panties down again.

“ryomen.” you’re already sitting up.

“relax,” he mutters against your puffy cunt. “lean back for me.”

you sigh, doing as he says. he licks a stripe up your glistening folds. he can taste himself on your stuffed cunt but his tongue keeps moving regardless. he pulls back, lips glistening with slick.

“you’re gonna tell me exactly what your fucking plan was,” he sucks on your bud, letting go with a pop. “why i saw you again with naoya after he dared to fucking talk to you like that.”

“so strict,” you whimper, cheeks puffed as your hips arch into him. “i can date anyone i want.”

“no,” sukuna hisses. “you can only date me.”

“mmh—” you moan as his tongue slobbers over your glossy folds. you run your fingers through his hair as your pussy drools onto his tongue. “mmh—wanted to make you mad,”

“you did good,” he sticks a finger into your cunt and you gasp, loud. he’s knuckles deep now, pumping his finger in and out of you. “hah—wanted you jealous,” you moan. “we were gonna get revenge.”

his fingers curl so hard you cry his name.

you whimper and he ignores it. “was already jealous. why’d you go back to him after he touched you?”

he curls his fingers again. “ah—! sorry, i’m sorry,” you cry, lashes wet. feels so good. “we weren’t dating for real. just showed up in public together. he said we couldn’t stop, said if we did that meant you won,” you whimper. “he apologized, let me punch him. i gave him a—hnngh—black eye.”

ah. so the black eye naoya had wasn’t from sato and suguru.

sukuna swirls his tongue over your clit, lapping and sucking as he pumps another finger into your drooling pussy. he curls them until he’s pressing into that spongy part that makes you sob, and he sucks gingerly as your pussy sputters and spits slick into his mouth. “ryo—m’gonna cum—”

your thighs shake, walls clenching. sukuna pumps his fingers in faster, letting your thighs squeeze his neck. you cum over his mouth, right around his fingers, and sukuna kisses your puffy, still-sensitive clit.

when he looks up at you, you’re glaring. eyes glistening wet, cheeks flushed. pretty.

“what?” he says. “you’re so mean,” you frown. “you see why i break up with you?”

sukuna huffs, climbing over your figure. when he’s right above you, you tug his neck down.

“i love you,” you mumble.

he kisses your lips. “i love you too.”

COCK’S REMARK : *HARDENS*

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #6: BREAK THE CYCLE !

taught by: ryomen sukuna

“loving you is a loop.”

ΣΧ

in toru gojo’s room of his apartment, the boys of sigma chi are all there. oh—and you too, of course.

sato is fast asleep on his twin’s bed, laid down & drooling on suguru’s shoulder beside him. suguru is tapping at his nintendo switch with furious speed. toru is cooking up something in the kitchen. and on his PC, you and sukuna are there, suguru’s sims 4 game loaded up on screen.

you’re on sukuna’s lap, his arm looped around your hips as you rant about the many tribulations you had to endure while ‘dating’ naoya. you’re customizing sukuna’s sim for your save file, and said man is doing nothing but rubbing your thighs and pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

“—and he leaves his boxers everywhere!” you exclaim, scrolling through geto’s CC folder. “i had to come over after he had practice once and they were everywhere. it’s that bad!”

“mhm,” sukuna kisses your neck, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “so bad, baby.”

“he’s so unhygienic,” you shift in sukuna’s lap, and he squeezes your hips to keep you steady. “i told him to at least clean up if he knows i’m coming over. he said no!”

sukuna nuzzles your ear, squeezes your thigh. “mm. m’gonna kill him.”

“no you will not! stop threatening murder!”

sukuna looks up. you’ve turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, and he looks up at you through bleary eyes. your cheeks are warm. lashes fluttering. you’re the prettiest headache he’s ever had.

he kisses your jaw. “missed fighting with your pretty face,” he murmurs. “gimme a kiss, baby.”

you soften, and he leans up to kiss you deep.

“woah—” suguru throws a pillow at you both. sukuna swats it away from you without pulling back from your lips. he squeezes your waist and geto frowns. “even if sato’s asleep, i’m still fucking here!”

sukuna ignores him, his hand crawling up to grope your tits. suguru scowls, turns over to face sato’s sleeping figure. he should’ve known protesting was futile. sukuna’s always been an exhibitionist, but you’d think his therapy sessions would’ve taught him better by now.

sukuna pulls back, your gloss smeared over his lip & chin. you giggle at the sight, “hi.”

“mmh,” he nuzzles your neck.

the door swings open, snapping you and sukuna out of your daze. in comes toru gojo with a plate of lazy cake, glasses slipping down his nose. he blushes when he sees you and sukuna pressed close together. “hi. i made snacks.”

“oh, toru!” you purr. “you’re my favorite, have i told you that?”

toru sets down the plate on the desk in front of you. as he leans down you press a kiss to his cheek, and he blushes so hard his face turns beet red. he looks up, surprised, and you’re beaming at him. behind you, sukuna is scowling.

toru drops the plate and runs away.

you turn back to glare at sukuna. “you scared him.”

“no one’s allowed to kiss you.”

“i kissed him!”

sukuna ignores your protests, trying to cup your jaw so he can get a kiss of his own. you shove his face back, and he scowls.

“go apologize to toru,” you frown at him. “now.”

sukuna wants to protest. wants to say he’s comfortable right here with your thighs over his lap and your lipgloss on his chin. but he knows if he fights back he’ll be left with nothing but a sore earlobe & an angry girlfriend. he grumbles as you slide off him.

sukuna trudges to the kitchen, says his apologies. toru accepts them in a heartbeat.

when he comes back to the room, you’re gone.

“where is she?” his heart drops. “suguru—where is she?”

“chill,” suguru mumbles, eyes never leaving his switch. “she left you a letter. check on the desk.”

and next to toru’s plate of dessert, a letter is indeed there. he picks it up, thumb running over the paper. you’ve left a glossy kiss mark at the end.

‘dear sukuna,’ it reads.

‘i’m breaking up with you.’

sukuna’s blood runs cold.

‘i know we just got back together a week ago. but i thought about it! thought about how i’m becoming a better woman, growing in my spiritual journey. do i really want a jealous man who scares away my friends by my side??

so i decided: let’s break up. for real this time. it’s not you, it’s me. maybe if we’re truly meant to be, the stars will align and our paths will cross yet again. but for now? i have to choose me and my growth. so i’m leaving. for good.

i still love you though!! you’ll always be my lover <3 i love you soso much baby boy. i don’t even want to do this. but i know i have to make the right choice for both of us.

sorry to walk away like this. and don’t forget, you are not allowed to date any other women!!! i am the only woman for you!! always and forever!! no dating, sex, kissing, touching, NOTHING. if i find out you even LOOK at another woman i’ll hate you forever!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay, that’s all. goodbye forever. i’ll always love you ryo <333333 i’m sorry it hand to end this way.’

sukuna stares at the letter. he reads it once. twice. then once more.

and then he laughs.

because this is his girlfriend, bratty and high-maintenance and demanding and all. because you say goodbye forever, but he knows he’ll see you next week. he knows tonight you’ll call and say you miss his voice and afterwards you’ll send him a text saying you’re still not getting back with him and will be blocking him as a final goodbye. he knows you’ll unblock him on a random wednesday and won’t text, and he’ll just have to keep sending messages till they don’t turn green and he can ask you to come back to him.

and you’ll say yes. you always do. and if there’s anything or anyone who stops you from saying yes, he’ll crush them.

he rubs his thumb over the bottom of the letter. your glossy kiss mark is there.

and right beside it?

XO, YOUR EX HO 💋

SUKUNA’S REMARK: SEE YOU NEXT WEEK.

#SIGMA-CHI STORIES !

XO, EX HOE end.

maybe after his bath, you’ll actually want to hold him, and maybe give him kisses on his sweet little forehead. but when the nurses give him back, it feels the same. you feel nothing towards the baby, no hatred, but no love.

you want to cry in frustration at yourself, this is your baby and you don’t love him. you don’t want to have a mental breakdown in the hospital, this is something you should save for home. especially right now, because toji looks so proud of you, and you don’t want to upset him.

“you did so good sweetheart, i’m so proud of you.” toji leans down, giving you a kiss on your lips, leaning away to put his large hands on the baby. you feel so guilty watching the scene, toji looks at the baby with love, while you couldn’t even stand holding him.

the baby wasn’t even doing anything, he just lays there in your arms, eyes closed. you couldn’t wait to go home.

after a couple hours, tomoko came to see you. she waited, hoping you had gotten some rest. but you hadn’t, all you thought about was that you’d live the rest of your life with a son you don’t want.

a knock happens at the hospital door, “i heard i have a grandson. you’ll tell me he looks like his mama won’t you?”

toji cringes because the baby is all him.

“my genes didn’t even stand a chance.”

you had a smile on your face when you said it, but everyone could feel you didn’t mean it. over the past couple of hours, toji noticed. he noticed, but he didn’t want to say anything yet, not now. you’re vulnerable, and he doesn’t want you to mistake his worry as anger.

tomoko goes closer to you and the baby, “this baby looks nothing like you,” she utters your name gently, she puts her hand on your head, petting you, “hopefully he’ll grow into your face.”

you hoped the same so you wouldn’t grow to resent toji too.

“yeah, me too.” you place a kiss on the baby’s forehead, but it feels performative.

you, the baby and toji all arrive back at the estate. you all arrive to the bedroom, where there is a crib placed next to the bed.

toji, who was carrying the car seat, takes the baby out, placing him in the crib. not before a, “g’night megumi.”

you’re already on the bed watching it all. you feel love for toji, and the scene is almost heartwarming. you just want to curl into a ball and let the world swallow you whole.

toji walks towards you and sits on the bed right next to you. he wraps his large arms around you with as much caution as he can.

“you wanna talk about the hospital?”

the fact that he noticed has you breaking down in tears. toji doesn’t say anything, but he brings your face in his chest allowing you to get anything out.

you had tried so hard to not let toji see, he might hate you now. he must be a mind reader.

“i’m here. i’m not going anywhere, you’re stuck with me.”

all you can do is nod your head, you just can’t stop crying.

the baby follows your example, because he starts crying too.

you pull away from toji, ready to take the baby. you really didn’t want to touch him more than necessary.

“i’ll get him, you lay down and relax.”

you love toji, you just hope he’ll feel the same way after you admit your disgusting feelings.

toji picks up the baby, rocking him in his arms, “i’m tryna comfort your mama and you just want attention don’t you?”

toji looks angry, but his voice shows nothing but awe.

the baby must’ve understood, because he starts the slowing of his cries. he just closes his eyes, ready to go back to sleep again.

toji sets the baby down, going back to you. your cries have also slowed, you’re reduced to sniffles and a warm face.

he goes back to his original position of holding you.

“i don’t know if i love him.”

toji furrows his brows, “megumi?”

you nod, feeling ashamed.

“i think that’s normal for some moms. i read it somewhere.” somewhere being from a book called, ‘a guide to being a good dad and how you can help your wife after birth!’

“what if i don’t ever love him? like this feeling doesn’t go away?”

he grabs your face with both of his hands, “whatever you want, i’m on board with. do you want me to call tomoko? maybe she could help.”

you shake your head, “i’m not even her biological kid.”

he shrugs, “maybe not, but maybe she didn’t feel an immediate love for you either.”

he makes a good point, if anything it was worse for tomoko because you weren’t planned for. you were just a random baby who was dropped off to her.

“yeah, can you call her?”

toji offers a nod and a small smile, “of course sweetheart.”

tomoko arrives with a plan in mind, help her daughter. she told toji that when she arrives, he would be taking care of the baby while tomoko comforts her daughter.

tomoko knocks on the bedroom door, opening after an, “open.”

she sees you in there, toji must’ve already taken the baby.

she lays in bed with you, wrapping her arms around you. “this feels familiar.” she comments.

and it does, it feels like when the two of you first found out you were pregnant. all you can do is hum in agreement.

“whatever you’re feeling is valid. it’s ok not to be ok, just know me and toji are on your side.”

you nod, trying to put your body as physically close to her as possible. she embraces whatever your doing. you two lay together for what you assume is maybe an hour and a half. but tomoko gets a text from toji, the baby is hungry.

she doesn’t want to upset you with the news of having to see him, but she knew you wouldn’t turn down feeding him. “megumi’s hungry, do you think you can see him or should he get some formula?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “newborns don’t need a lot of milk, so i can do it.”

she nods, texting toji back.

after some time, toji comes back with the baby in his arms.

he goes up to you, gently placing the baby in your arms then sitting at the feet of the bed. you imagine holding the baby won’t be bad with your mom and husband with you.

you take out a breast from your robe, letting the baby attach himself. all you can do it look at him. the way his eyes are closed as he feeds himself, it’s kinda cute.

then he ruins the moment by unlatching himself and sneezing, you laugh gently, whispering, “you’re so nasty megumi.”

that was the first time in two days that you said his name, megumi. and the tears come again, you look at megumi, your baby.

in that moment, you stopped thinking of megumi of “the baby” and started thinking of him as “megumi”.

age one.

“no say mai!”

“don’t listen to her megumi! say maki!”

right now the twins have decided the only way to find out which one of the two megumi likes more is seeing whose name he says first.

not that it means much to megumi, because all he says is mama and bye bye.

“not you two peer pressuring my son.”

the girls both look at you, “he won’t say my name!” mai explains, “mine either!” maki follows.

megumi seeing his mother, crawls to her, leaving the two on their own. he puts his arms up, ready to be held.

just as you are about to pick him up, toji, who was following behind you, get him first.

toji gives him a smile, “forget the twins megumi, say dada.”

megumi just shakes his head no, with a scrunched face. toji’s face essentially drops in disappointment. this causes not only you, but the girls to laugh at toji.

“yeah yeah, laugh it up. i’ll just contact my good friend the boogie man to get you.”

this shuts the girls up, causing them to run behind you. megumi on the other hand, doesn’t seems to be intimidated by the threat.

“he got the fearlessness from me.”

“yeah right.”

age two.

you’re sitting on the couch as megumi plays with a small puzzle on the floor. his face scrunches in frustration as he tries to put the rectangle through the circle hole.

in the background, there’s slow music playing. turns out megumi isn’t a fan of anything too overstimulating, toji learned that that hard way after getting slapped one to many times.

“you okay gumi?”

he just shakes his head no. it’s been worrisome that he doesn’t talk much. he mainly does a lot of pointing and grunting. he does understand what you and toji are telling him, he just prefers to keep quiet.

“you want help?”

he nods, causing you to move yourself from the couch, onto the floor with him. you take the rectangle piece from him, showing him its face.

“you see this?” pointing at the flat surface, “you need to match this with the other one.”

megumi frowns. you offer him the toy back, megumi takes it with frustration.

“try again sweetie.” with your words of encouragement, megumi feels he can do anything!

except he tries putting it right back in the circle hole. when it doesn’t fit, he whine in protest, also throwing his toy.

“ouch!”

“uh oh, say sorry to daddy megumi.”

megumi shakes his head no, going for a different shape.

“what a jerk!” toji announced.

age three.

you were out on a spa retreat, per toji’s request. he’d notice that you had been extra stressed lately. it must’ve been due to megumi getting so sick he had to go to the hospital. he’d been sick for a whole week, and now you would constantly check on him. it had been a month since then, so you felt okay to leave for a couple days.

megumi is now sat in a chair with his booster seat.

unfortunately for toji, megumi was refusing to eat anything he offered. toji wasn’t even a bad cook! the issue was that he “doesn’t do it like mama!”

mind you, it was omurice, there’s only so many ways to can change on how to do it!

“c’mon megumi, you gotta eat to be big and strong. don’t you want to be like daddy?”

“no.”

??

toji was at a loss, he didn’t know how to convince his stubborn three year old to eat!

“would it be better if grandma came and made it?”

megumi sat with the question, “yes, but not you.”

toji sighs, calling tomoko.

and of course,she came in record time to see her precious grandson.

“how is my favorite boy doing?” she asks as she picks megumi up, tickling him.

megumi giggles at his grandmother, pointing at his father, “papas not making my food good!”

toji’s eyes widened, he pointed back at megumi, “he didn’t even try it!”

tomoko slaps toji’s hand down, “don’t point at my grandson, you must’ve done it wrong if he says so.”

toji’s hisses, rubbing his had, “fine, but apparently if you can’t do it like his mama, don’t even bother.”

megumi ate his grandmothers food just fine, she even got him to eat pickled radish, and he said he hates pickled radish!

when you come back, it’s already late. you noticed your mother in the kitchen, “megumi’s already asleep, you go to bed.”

you greet her quietly with a hug, going to your bedroom. when you arrive, you see toji pouting.

“what’s wrong with you, huh?”

toji groans, throwing himself in your arms, “that kid is so petty. won’t even eat my food.”

“yeah, he’s really picky. sometimes i have to bribe him with a cupcake.”

“you what?!”

age four.

you and megumi were in the boys bedroom playing with his plushies. more specifically, you were all having a tea party.

toji walked in on the scene and his heart had a physical reaction. he could feel all the emotions of having a loving family.

“tell me where the money is or i’ll kill you.”

megumi was holding a knife from his kitchen set to a blue teddy bear’s neck.

toji’s eyes widened, he looked at you for a reaction, but all you did was nod your head and pretend to sip from your teacup!

“you heard him sniffles.”

why were you going along with this?!

megumi shakes his head, “maybe this don’t scare you. but this will.”

he throws the knife to the side, before running with his little feet to his toy box. he grabs a water gun, running back to the teddy bear.

megumi points the water gun to the bears head, “i’ll do it, i will. and your family is next.”

you have to stop him at some point, toji thinks.

“don’t make this harder than it has to be sniffles.”

nevermind.

megumi who was looking at the bear, his head snaps towards toji.

toji in all honesty starts sweating from being nervous. he didn’t know his son was about that life.

“you say anything and you’re next.”

“yes sir.”

age five.

it was that time of the month where you needed to go grocery shopping. this time was a little different, you were shopping for the twins birthday, so you needed to get a little more than usual.

you asked toji to come, and of course he said yes, and time spent with his wife is a good time.

and megumi still being young, was going along by default.

speaking of megumi, he had become a lot more independent. one thing he likes a lot, is dressing himself. and not just dressing himself, but also picking out his own outfit.

“mama i wanna wear this!”

the outfit in question was a costume, a dragon costume. last year the three of you took a vacation to the states and it happened to be halloween! you couldn’t let megumi feel left out so of course you guys got him a costume!

unfortunately, he’s always wanting to wear it.

sure it’s a little embarrassing to be around a five year old in a dragon costume, but he’s cute so people won’t judge that much.

arriving at the store, you and toji separate to get things done a little quicker. megumi sticks with you, walking right behind you. as he walks, he mutters to himself on how ‘he can be the best dragon.’

“hey, i saw you looking at the fruit and thought i should say hi.”

before you can even think of rejecting his advances, megumi screams, well, more like he roared like he imagined a dragon would. he runs up to the man, biting his leg.

“damn it! ouch!”

“serves you right.” you mutter, “c’mon megumi.”

he lets go of the man, immediately grabbing your hand to take you to toji.

once the two of you find him, he raises an eyebrow, “was that him who yelled?”

megumi nodded proudly, “was saving mama.”

“saving her huh?”

he gives a smirk (?) “yup, an evil man was hitting on mama.”

toji immediately frowns, “who?”

“lets get back to shopping before you get violent.”

“i’m already feeling violent.”

age six.

you and megumi were currently at the park.

megumi was still at your side, watching all the kids play. unfortunately for megumi, his social skills when it came to other children weren’t the greatest. his only real experience was with maki and mai.

due to megumi being the next zenin heir, the elders insisted that megumi be tutored instead of any kind of school. toji had wanted to tell them to shove it, but they had started threatening the twins.

telling toji that the second they’re left unattended, an “accident” could occur.

so until toji has a plan to protect them 24/7, he’ll go along with the elders, for now.

“hey, come play with me!”

a boy, seemingly around megumi’s age, approaches him.

“why would i do that?”

you want to chime in and correct megumi on his manners, but you don’t want to get in the way of megumi learning to talk to kids his age.

the boy nods, “cause i’m cool!”

megumi seemed convinced enough, shrugging, “alright, let’s go.”

the boy takes megumi’s hand, leading him to a nearby swing set.

“seems like my nephew convinced your brat to play.”

you look towards to voice, a man slightly taller than toji, he has pink hair and lots of tattoos.

furrowing your brows, “he’s not a brat.”

“all kids are brats.”

shaking your head, “not this one.”

he laughs at the denial, “i’m sukuna, my nephew there was yuji.”

you give him your name, “and that’s my son megumi.”

his eyebrows widen, “son? i woulda thought you were a nannny.”

you tilt your head, “whys that?”

he snorts, “have you seen the kid? there’s not much of a resemblance.”

you groan, “don’t remind me. that’s allll his dad. at first, i was hoping he’d grow to look like me, but now i’m glad he still looks like his dad.”

sukuna nods in understanding, “yeah i guess,” he shrugs, “i’d just be pissed if i had to carry my kid for nine months just to look nothing like me.”

sukuna laughs at the realization on your face, “what? had you never thought about it like that?”

you shake your head, “ugh, now i’m mad all over again.”

sukuna thinks you’re funny, maybe taking his smelly nephew to the park wasn’t that bad. he’s got himself a friend.

later that night during dinner, “mama, who was that man you were talking to? me and yuji saw you guys laughing a lot!” he makes sure to accentuate the last bit.

“what man?”

“oh boy.”

age seven.

megumi was feeling upset, he couldn’t understand why. but if you were to look up all the symptoms, the answer would be loneliness. the estate you guys stayed in was large, others surrounding you guys, all owned by the zenin clan.

besides you and toji, the only other people who talked to him were mai and maki. they had been busy as of late, so not even them!

all the other adults around him hate him. to them he was a spoiled brat with a silver spoon in his mouth. not only was he the next heir, but he was your son, and to them, that was even worse.

megumi didn’t understand why the other adults around hated him, not until he overheard a conversation.

“i hate this. naoya should’ve been the zenin heir, but no. naobito just had to choose toji.”

“not only that, but naobito chose his bastard wife as well.”

“ugh, don’t even mention her. i can’t stand to hear about her even after all these years.”

“honestly, i just with the brat and his mother would disappear and toji find someone else.”

“that could never-”

megumi can’t bare to hear the rest. he knew they didn’t like him sure, but for him and his mom to disappear. he was heartbroken.

later that night after dinner, toji insisted that he do the dishes and you start taking megumi to bed.

now, megumi lays in bed as him mom reads him a bedtime story. but as he’s watching her, he just doesn’t understand how someone could want her gone. the thought brings him to tears.

“and then- megumi? sweetheart what’s wrong?”

he throws himself in your arms, it doesn’t seem like the crying will stop soon. you don’t want to say anything just yet, so you just hold him like your life depends on it.

seems toji heard him, because now he’s kneeling by megumi’s bed, waiting for him to calm down.

megumi’s sniffing comes to its end. he looks up at you from your arms.

“they said, they said they wants up to go away so daddy can have a new family.”

toji so desperately wants to know who said that, but he doesn’t want megumi to think he’s in trouble. so he won’t ask, not yet anyways.

“oh sweetheart,” you mumble, bringing him back in your arms, “if we left your daddy, he would go crazy.”

toji nods, rubbing megumi’s back, “you and your mama can’t leave me. i don’t care what anyone says, and you shouldn’t either.”

toji hated seeing his son cry, especially when it was because of someone.

he gently grabs megumi from your arms, bringing him to his chest, “you won’t have to worry about leaving. or about whoever said that bullshit.”

“toji.” you quietly scold.

“sorry, stupid stuff. megumi, can you tell me who said that?”

he couldn’t resist asking, he needed to know.

“they won’t get in trouble, will they?”

for the first time in a while, toji lied to his son, “of course not megs.”

age eight.

“mama, yuji wants to know if we can go the the aquarium soon. said his dad finally got a day off to take him.”

you raise an eyebrow, “did jin actually invite you, or did yuji do it on his own accord?”

he shrugs, “probably on his own.”

the answer was expected , yuji was always trying to hang out with megumi. as cute as it was, you didn’t want to show up unannounced, “i’ll call jin.”

megumi nods, going back to his reading.

after a short call with jin, it seems he did invite you and megumi to the aquarium. he would’ve invited toji, but the man reminds him to much of his brother, and he sees him more than enough.

so now you and megumi were on the way to the aquarium!

you and toji had only ever taken him once when he was a little younger. there was a jellyfish that spooked him, causing a small breakdown. now megumi was old enough to understand that a jellyfish behind glass won’t harm him.

arriving to the aquarium, a loud, “megumi!” came near the entrance.

megumi loved hanging out with yuji, but man did the boy embarrass him sometimes!

megumi swiftly walked towards yuji, hoping to quiet the boy down. not that it helped, since yuji got in trouble, he couldn’t see megumi for a week. that caused him to miss the boy dearly.

yuji grabbed megumi’s shoulders, using them as a crutch as he jumped around the boy.

“it was only a week they were apart. you would’ve assumed that he went to war.”

you laughed at that. jin was always funny to you do to the fact that he always sounded serious.

“at least they’re together again. megumi wouldn’t ever admit it, but he was definitely bored without yuji around.”

they would not be together again for a long while since yuji got grounded. not only was he grounded, but he was also suspended from the aquarium until he turned thirteen.

apparently taking off all your clothes for bath time in the touch tank was a no no.

age nine.

toji noticed megumi acting a little differently. he was still a good kid. working on his schoolwork, doing his chores, behaving, things like that. but toji knew deep in his core, something was wrong with megumi.

he knew when talking to his son, he needed to be delicate with the situation.

“megumi, you’ve been different, you doing okay?”

or not.

megumi just shrugs, “i guess.”

“well don’t just guess. c’mon kid, what’s been going on?”

megumi furrowed his eyebrows, “maybe i’m a little quieter? i don’t know dad.”

then it hits toji, megumi’s quieter because he’s alone. well, he has you and toji, and yuji when he’s not in trouble. but always being at home causes some kind of change, right?

“i’ll be right back.”

it takes toji three hours to come back home, there was nothing right back about it. not that it bugged megumi particularly, he was in his moms bed with her. his head was on her lap as he watched a movie. you had your hand scratching his head, while the other, you read a book.

they for bursts open, toji stood there, but he wasn’t alone. he had not one, but two puppies.

“toji! what is this?!”

“it’s puppies!”

you and megumi shouted at the same time.

toji motioned you to follow and leave megumi with the dogs.

when the two of you were alone outside the bedroom, “what the hell toji! this is something we discuss together.”

even though you were scolding him, toji couldn’t help but smile.

“i was worried for the kid. he’s been lonely here at the house.”

that was true, megumi did start seeming quieter and more closed off.

“i guess that’s true, besides, he’s far too old for a sibling.”

toji pouted at that, “well i didn’t say that.”

age ten.

toji was in need of a vacation. one of the zenin elders passed, causing a lot of stir in the clan. there was a lot of added pressure for toji. so what else do you do than plan a vacation!

“nooooooo!”

megumi had made the mistake of inviting yuji and telling him the big news. yuji grabs megumi in a tight hug, “you can’t leave me! i’ll be so bored with my dad!”

“hey!” exclaimed jin.

megumi furrowed his eyebrows, “it’s just two weeks.”

yuji’s eyes widened, “just two weeks! i thought it would only be for a couple days!”

toji enters the room, causing yuji to glare at him, “this is all your fault, you’re taking megumi away from me!”

he rolls his eyes at the young boy, “you’ve definitely been apart for longer, and that was because of you.”

yuji thinks about it, “yeah, well i’m cute so it doesn’t count.”

toji looks at you, “i’m cute too aren’t i?”

“don’t start.”

the three of you arrived in osaka a little after noon. and to toji, that meant being able to go to the beach. aka see his wife in a swim suit, he was so excited!

“lets hurry to the hotel, we can drop our stuff off and head to the beach.” toji tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he was jumping with joy on the inside.

the hotel was beautiful. two queen sized beds, with a small kitchenette and balcony. that was probably megumi’s favorite part, the view of the beach was gorgeous. he also loved people watching, so it was a bonus.

toji ushered the two of you into changing into your bathing suits. toji was ready to go now.

once you and megumi were done changing, he grabbed the backpack of beach stuff. he put it on, taking your and megumi’s hands into his, leaving the hotel room.

the three of you arrived at the beach, and the sun was shining as bright as it could.

“megumi c’mere.”

he walked over to you, allowing you to put sunscreen on him.

“i can get you next sweetheart.” toji inputs from the side.

megumi shoots him a dirty look, “i can do it for you mom.” he gets closer to you whispering, “i don’t trust that pervert.”

toji’s jaw dropped, to bad megumi was awful at whispering.

you laughed at megumi, “okay, you can help me.” you gave his forehead a kiss.

he stuck his tongue out at his father.

what a little shit! toji thought.

you know what, it was okay. toji would still be able to see his cute wife in her bathing suit that he bought her.

“are you going to swim?”

you shook your head, “i think i’m going to nap, it’s such a warm day, it’s making me tired.”

toji feels his heart crack into tiny pieces.

you had only slept for thirty minutes before waking up. you saw toji and megumi in the water, maybe you should join them.

toji must’ve had some crazy super powers, because his head snapped towards you.

toji watches as you take off your outer layers, and there it is, the bathing suit.

unfortunately for him, since he wasn’t paying attention, a large wave takes him out from behind.

what a loser, megumi thought.

age eleven.

it was a saturday afternoon when megumi and yuji met nobara. apparently you had met nobara’s mother at the grocery store after nobara wandered off getting lost.

this was megumi’s worst nightmare, someone who would go alone with yuji’s antics! not only did she go along with whatever he did, but she encouraged it!

here’s how this nightmare started.

“hey gumi, do you want to go to the park with me? i met this nice lady and she has a daughter your age. maybe we could even bring yuji along.”

megumi regrets saying yuji should come along.

at the park, you spot your new friend and her daughter. megumi and yuji follow behind you, megumi with dragged feet, and yuji practically skipping.

“hi again nobara! it’s nice to see you again. this is my son megumi, and this is his best friend yuji!”

nobara doesn’t say much at first, but then she points at yuji, “you look like you eat your own boogers!”

nobaras mother quickly places her hand over nobara’s, “that’s so rude!”

yuji shakes his head, “no, i haven’t done that in a while!”

nobara shrugs her shoulders, “whatever, let’s go play.”

now megumi’s the referee for nobara and yuji’s wrestling match.

“i’m gonna kick your butt!”

“nuh uh!”

megumi wants to go home, “okay, start on three. one, two, three.”

nobara pounces on yuji, causing them both to fall over.

unfortunately for her, yuji isn’t one to stay down long, but when he gets up, both nobara and megumi gasp.

yuji had fallen on a rock, causing his head to bleed.

“i’m sorry!” nobara’s in tears.

“lets go to my mom.” megumi states. nobara nods, while megumi grabs yuji’s hand to drag him away.

when they arrive, nobara’s mom gasps in disbelief, “what happened?!”

“we were playing rough and i made him fall and hit his head!” nobara is hysterical at this point. he mother looks at you with worry, just to find you sighing.

“again yuji?”

he nods sheepishly, “i didn’t mean to!”

“yes you did.”

“shh megumi!”

nobara’s mother is very confused, “what’s happening?”

“yuji’s indestructible,” megumi starts, “one time he broke his arm and he didn’t even cry. yuji’s body is used to him being reckless. this is nothing.”

nobara’s mother wonders if coming here was a good idea..

age twelve.

megumi has gotten taller, a lot taller. his voice was also deeper, it’s not like this happened overnight or anything, but every time you look at him, all you can see is how he’s not a baby anymore.

and it hurt you, he was already twelve, that meant twelve years have passed.

twelve years.

it was honestly how ridiculous time was passing, and it wasn’t only affecting you. toji definitely had some feelings about this.

megumi enters your and toji’s bedroom to find the two of you talking. megumi knows the two of you are probably, no, definitely gossiping.

“is it alright if i go to yuji’s for the night. he wants to watch human earthworm, but he doesn’t want to be alone in case it’s scary.”

you and toji look up at him, then towards each other, “yeah that’s alright sweetie, go ahead. will you need me to take you?”

he shakes his head, “no, he said jin would be getting me after he picks up take out for tonight.”

“okay then hun, have fun okay? i love you.”

megumi gives you a smile, “i love you too mom.”

“i love you megumi.” toji inserts himself.

megumi’s smile drops, “i love you too dad.”

“what’s with the switch up?!”

megumi’s long gone for the night. you and toji lay in bed when you get a notification on your phone.

it was your mom, she sent a photo.

the photo consisted of you holding megumi who was maybe a week old. you remember how you first felt about megumi, but in the picture, you looked at him like he held the world.

‘this picture popped up on my timeline. look at my sweet grandson. too bad he looks like his father.’

toji, being the nosey freak he is, was looking over your shoulder. then the tears came.

it wasn’t a subtle or gradual flow, it was all at once, it was ugly and raw.

“he’s so big now.” his voice sounds desperate and cracked.

you adjust your position to bring him closer, “i was scared back then. when you said you didn’t love him.”

you inhale sharply, “and i meant what i said back then, whatever you wanted, i was there with you. but damn, i so glad something changed.”

you nodded, eyes watering, “yeah, me too.”

all night, you and toji went through old photos reminiscing of when your big boy was a baby. but let’s face it, he’s still your baby.

age thirteen.

having a thirteen year old son was good for one thing.

nothing, because when you asked megumi to go with you to get groceries, he said no! the nerve of him, you raised him for thirteen years and this is what you get?!

you didn’t know that when your kid become a teenager, they thought hanging around your parents was lame. now that megumi was officially put in public school, with yuji much to his dismay, it’s like he’s become a completely different kid.

maybe this is what public school does? you didn’t go to one, so maybe that’s why you still loved being around your mom. you thought about toji, you doubt he liked his parents ever, so that’s no help.

maybe he’s made a million friends and that’s why he’s so busy. in that case, you don’t mind.

but what if he’s getting bullied? what if some older jerky kids found megumi and had him become their new target?

no.

you could not think like that and become a helicopter parent.

hmm. it’s weird.

it’s the middle of the day on a thursday and megumi isn’t there. you miss him.

you’re glad you had this long with him. or maybe it would’ve been better if he had started earlier so this wouldn’t feel so bad.

did he miss you?

you know toji missed him. toji whines about how no one humbles him like megumi does.

but toji whines a lot period, he’s not a good reference for missing megumi.

megumi’s smart too. he doesn’t need help on homework, like, ever.

you tried helping him with math and did the equation wrong, you never offered help again. especially not after he was the one to correct you.

maybe you all should go on vacation again. maybe even invite yuji and nobara this time. instead of the beach, perhaps somewhere cold? nah, toji would just whine.

the only things you have to remember megumi are his dogs. speaking of, did you make that appointment for their haircuts yet?

speaking of haircuts, what should you make for dinner tonight? you’ve been wanting barbecue, if you ask toji nicely he’ll surly take you.

what if-

“mom i’m back. i brought yuji and nobara, can they stay over for a bit?”

megumi’s home? it was barley a little after one! were you really just sat there thinking that long?

you go to see the kids, yuji and nobara are arguing about something unimportant. megumi looks at you and smiles.

“hi mom.”

you smile back, “hi megumi.”

epilogue.

“this can’t be happening. megumi’s already sixteen, i don’t think we can do this to him.”

“who cares what the brat thinks.”

“you’re just mad he told you you weren’t cool anymore.”

“damn right i’m mad!”

“back then i already said megumi was too old, now he’s really too old!”

“i’ll be okay with whatever you want. i’m on your side and we are a team.”

“i think, maybe we could go for another one. besides, i want one that looks like me. plus, i’ve always wanted a girl.”

“YES!”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

a/n: postpartum depression is real and isn’t something to the shamed about. i hope you enjoyed the last part of the toji au! thank you for reading, i love you (. .*)β

don’t get sukuna wrong, he still hates uraume. at least that’s what he’s been telling himself. constantly seeing his wife fawn over the child (who wasn’t even that cute), made his skin boil.

not the kind that makes him want to skin them alive, well not as of recently, but the kind that makes him want to simply punt them off of a building.

for the most part, everyone in the shrine has been taking uraumes presence well. actually, no one really cares. most are too focused of doing their job so that sukuna doesn’t slaughter them.

some are even nice to uraume. uraume is the only child allowed in the shrine, so a couple people pat uraume’s head when they see them.

even though uraume only preferred if you or occasionally sukuna touched them, they would never say anything that could possibly cause trouble for the two of you.

there was only one person who thought bringing uraume around was a mistake.

a shrine maiden by the name of yuzuki.

she didn’t even have a concrete reason for disliking uraume. in all honesty, she just didn’t get the hype. she would see you constantly giving uraume attention by hugging them, or brushing their hair.

she would see sukuna do similar things, like roughly pat uraumes head, or when he would pat their back so harshly they would practically tip over.

the worst part was, all uraume did was cook. yuzuki had done way more that stand in the kitchen and prepare food. she was constantly on her hands and knees scrubbing the floors, always dusting everything to make sure it looked new.

all they do is cook, so what is with the hype? yuzuki had prayed to whoever was listening, and prayed she would never personally encounter uraume.

her prayers went unanswered as three weeks later, she ran into them.

they were on the way to see you. you had mentioned in passing that you’d like to see more flower types in the garden, so uraume had “kindly” urged the gardener to do so. and what was the gardener gonna do, say no?

when yuzuki turned the corner with a large pile of silks in her arms, she ran into young uraume.

uraume had fallen onto their behind, as did yuzuki, causing all the clean silks to touch the floor.

she wasn’t that upset, just make sure the silks didn’t have any damage to them. she wasn’t upset until she saw who caused the fall.

“you stupid brat. can’t you watch where you’re going?!”

uraume does nothing but tilt their head, “wow, not even giving me the decency to speak back.”

yuzuki picks up the silks and leaves uraume to their thoughts. but that night, she couldn’t sleep. she was so scared. what if uraume had told you or sukuna? she would surely perish.

except after a couple of days, nothing happened. she wasn’t perfectly fine and dandy. did uraume not tell them? were they not a snitch?

an evil grin lands itself on her face. if uraume isn’t going to say anything, then by all means, she’s going to mess with them.

and so she does.

it goes on for months, and uraume never says anything. if they have any sort of bruise or scrape, they just tilt their head when you asked “what happened here, hmm?”

that was the only thing yuzuki “liked” about uraume. they kept their mouth shut.

every chance she had, she would just cause as much pain as she could without being too obvious about it.

pinching them was her favorite, especially on their side which was covered by their clothes. occasionally she would push them, calling them names like brat, useless and replaceable.

uraume had tried not to take offense to her harsh words. it worked for a while, but at some point it became a lot. they had considered telling you and sukuna, but the idea of the two of you going out of your way for them wasn’t even an option.

especially after the useless and replaceable remarks from yuzuki.

they were fine, they convinced themselves it was alright. as long as you and sukuna kept them around, they could handle the aggression from yuzuki.

you and sukuna had been worried for little uraume. well, you had at least stated to sukuna you were worried for them.

“if i find out something has happened, i will deal with it for you.”

he hadn’t mentioned that he would also be doing it for uraumes sake, but that’s because he would never admit that they’ve grown on him.

it was late on a friday night, and uraume still hadn’t come to your bed chambers to ask you to brush their hair.

this was the first time it had happened, and you officially knew something happened.

you weren’t dumb. you saw the bruises and scrapes on them, but no matter how many times you asked about it, you would never get an answer. all you could do was patch them up and tell them that you were there for them.

unwrapping sukuna’s arm from around you, causing a “no, come back.” you silently leave to go find uraume and once and for all confront them on what’s been going on.

as you walk to their room, you hear a quiet voice. it sounds like an argument, or maybe a scolding?

you normally would ignore something like this, but uraume’s bedroom is nearby. you would like them to get all the sleep they can as they’ve been looking extra tired lately.

when you walk towards the commotion, you see uraume, and a shrine maiden who was apart of the maintenance of the place.

before you can even ask about the situation, she speaks first, “when will you realize that they’re sick of you? i’ve been how she looks at you y’know. she’s tired of you. she’s waiting for you to make a mistake to she can report you to sukuna.”

“that’s not true at all. i could want someone gone just for breathing wrong, and he would handle them for me. i need no excuse or reason. you in the other hand, better have a good reason for saying these things. i can also assume you’re the one who’s been harming my child.”

in that moment, yuzuki realized that she would not live long enough to see another sunrise.

in that same moment, uraume realized that you were their mother. looking at you right here and now, they understand that you would not have scolded or gotten rid of them for the situation. but perhaps you would’ve cried for them.

the same way you’re doing now. uraume was your child. you don’t want to imagine how long this mistreatment has been going on. you imagine sukuna would’ve handled this situation differently.

but sukuna had already awaken. sensing his wife’s distress, he knew she was upset about something.

he also knew were she went. why else would she possibly leave the comfort of his arms? his damned brat.

when he walks towards uraume’s bedroom, he sees a sight that was definitely means for shedding blood.

his wife is hugging uraume, her eyes are watery, like she was crying.

and a shrine maiden he doesn’t recognize. but he doesn’t have to remember her to see that she’s obviously caused his wife pain.

he looks towards you and uraume, “both of you,” he’s speaking to, but he’s now looking at the shrine maiden, “go to our bed chambers. i will deal with this.”

you don’t question it, you don’t need too.

the same is with sukuna, he doesn’t need to know what the shrine maiden did. he does know that it is punishable by death.

sukuna didn’t come back to the bedroom that night.

and in the time that uraume started staying here, they had never heard cries so loudly. not that they minded, because that night you held them tightly, apologetic for something that wasn’t even your fault.

the following morning, sukuna had confronted uraume while you were away elsewhere.

“do not hide things like this again.”

uraume thought back to last night when you called them your child. if you were their mother, did that make sukuna their father? they assumed yes.

uraume nodded their head, “yes father.”

sukuna doesn’t say anything at first, or at all. he just grunts at uraume’s words before walking off.

it was embarrassing, his heart getting all soft for some brat. but that was his brat.

uraume had now been at the shrine for years. they’ve grown taller and more mature.

sukuna thought that as young uraume got older, he would like them more since they wouldn’t cling to his wife constantly like they did when they were younger.

boy was he wrong. uraume was constantly with you. still getting their hair brushed, still occasionally sleeping in your bed, still spoiled as hell.

uraume had also become a snitch.

you had constantly reminded sukuna to stop taking more than one villager from his monthly sacrifice.

sukuna tried to stop taking uraume with him, because he knew uraume favored their mother more than him.

the first time it happened, sukuna stood with uraume at his side, trying to pick his dinner.

he pointed at one person, “you,” he pointed at another, “and you.”

uraume tugged on sukuna’s kimono, “only one. mother will be mad.”

sukuna waved them off, grinning, “what she doesn’t know won’t kill her.”

uraume nodded and said nothing.

that night, sukuna got a long scolding. but that wasn’t the worst part. that night he was kicked out of the bed chambers for trying to get uraume to lie to you, while uraume got to sleep soundly next to you!

“uraume, i thought you were not to tell your mother.”

they shook their head, “you told me not to hide things.”

sukuna just gave them the stink eye, “not about me! your loyalty belongs to me.”

that night, sukuna was again kicked out of the bed for scolding uraume.

ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

He was quiet. Severe. Difficult to approach. The kind of man who could spend an entire party standing in a corner with a drink in one hand and a look on his face that discouraged strangers from speaking to him. He hated small talk, ignored group chats, and once left a birthday dinner without saying goodbye because, in his words, “I had already attended.”

Naturally, you assumed he understood personal space.

You were wrong.

Horribly wrong.

Sukuna understood personal space perfectly well.

He simply did not believe yours applied to him.

The change had happened almost immediately after you started dating. Before that, he had been restrained. Controlled. He would sit beside you without touching, walk you home with his hands in his pockets, and offer you his jacket with the stiff seriousness of a man performing a legal obligation.

Then you kissed him for the first time.

After that, Sukuna became a problem.

If you sat on the couch, he either pulled you onto his lap or stretched out with his head resting heavily across your thighs. If you tried to move, he opened one red eye and stared at you as though you had violated a binding contract.

“Where are you going?”

“To get water.”

“There’s water here.”

“That glass is yours.”

“You can have it.”

“I don’t want your water.”

“Why?”

“Because you drank out of it.”

His expression would darken. “You kiss me.”

“That is different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

He would stare at you for a moment, then tighten one arm around your waist before closing his eyes again.

“Sit down.”

“You’re bossy.”

“You’re moving too much.”

“You are literally lying on me.”

“Yes.”

That was always his answer.

Yes.

As though acknowledging the crime made it acceptable.

Cooking was worse.

Sukuna could have been in another room, occupied with something completely unrelated, and the moment you began chopping vegetables, he would appear behind you like an enormous, tattooed ghost. He would press against your back, wrap both arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder while you tried to use a knife safely.

“Sukuna,” you would say.

“What?”

“I’m cooking.”

“I can see that.”

“You are making it difficult.”

“I’m standing.”

“You’re hanging on me.”

“I’m barely touching you.”

His chest would be pressed against your entire back. His arms would be locked around your middle. His face would be buried against the side of your neck.

“Barely?”

“Yes.”

“You are six foot four.”

“Not my fault.”

“You are breathing in my ear.”

“That is generally how breathing works.”

You would turn your head just enough to glare at him.

He would kiss your cheek.

And somehow, inexplicably, that would become the end of the argument.

He followed you into the bathroom too.

Not every time. He had boundaries.

They were simply strange boundaries.

If you were doing your hair, he leaned in the doorway and watched.

If you were washing your face, he stood beside you and examined his own reflection like he had also suddenly developed a skincare routine.

If you were brushing your teeth, he brushed his teeth at the same time, even if he had already done it.

The first time you realized this, you had watched him reach for his toothbrush at nearly eleven at night.

“You already brushed your teeth.”

He froze with the toothpaste in hand.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“When?”

“After dinner.”

“That was earlier.”

“It was an hour ago.”

He stared at you in the mirror.

You stared back, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

Then he squeezed toothpaste onto the brush anyway.

“You’re going to damage your gums.”

“My gums are strong.”

“That does not mean—”

He started brushing.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

His mouth foamed slightly around the toothbrush as he smirked.

You had realized then that he was not brushing his teeth because he needed to.

He simply wanted to stand beside you.

That was the thing about Sukuna.

To everyone else, he appeared profoundly uninterested in human attachment.

He did not hug his friends. He barely answered messages. He had once stared at a coworker who tried to pat his shoulder until the poor man quietly apologized.

But with you, he needed constant contact.

His hand on your thigh beneath restaurant tables.

His fingers hooked through your belt loop while you stood in line.

His palm resting against the back of your neck while you watched television.

His leg pressed against yours in bed.

If there was a way for Sukuna to be touching you, he found it.

Sometimes he invented one.

You were convinced that half the things he claimed required help did not.

“Come here,” he would say from the bedroom.

You would walk in and find him standing in front of the mirror with a perfectly reachable zipper at the back of his jacket.

“What?”

“Help.”

“With what?”

“This.”

“You can reach that.”

“No.”

“Sukuna.”

“My shoulder hurts.”

“You went to the gym this morning.”

“Exactly.”

You would sigh and walk toward him anyway, and the moment your fingers touched the zipper, his hands would find your hips.

“You are such a liar.”

He would meet your gaze in the mirror.

“Yes.”

At night, his clinginess became nearly unbearable.

Sukuna did not cuddle politely.

He did not simply place an arm around your waist and remain on his side of the bed like a civilized man.

He consumed space.

Every night, he pulled you against him until there was no air left between your bodies. One arm went beneath your neck, the other wrapped around your waist, one leg wedged between yours. Sometimes he tucked your head under his chin. Sometimes he buried his face against your hair. Sometimes he draped himself over you so thoroughly you woke up convinced a building had collapsed.

You tried reasoning with him.

“Sukuna, we have a king-sized bed.”

“I know.”

“You are using three-quarters of it.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are on my side.”

“You’re on my side.”

“I went to sleep over there.”

“And now you’re here.”

“Because you dragged me.”

He would blink at you sleepily, hair messy, eyes half-open.

“You came willingly.”

“I was asleep.”

“Exactly.”

You had developed a system.

You let him cuddle you until he fell asleep. Then, once his breathing grew deep and his grip loosened, you carefully slipped from his arms and moved toward your side of the bed.

Most nights, it worked.

Sometimes, half-asleep, he followed.

You would wake up an hour later with him attached to you again, one arm locked around your waist like his body had detected the distance and corrected it without his permission.

It was ridiculous.

It was also, though you hated admitting it, a little adorable.

Sukuna, who looked like he would rather bite through glass than admit he needed anyone, slept best with his face buried against your neck.

Still, there were limits.

And that summer evening, with the heat hanging thick and unmoving around the house, you reached yours.

The air conditioner was working, technically, but it had been fighting a losing battle against the brutal temperature outside all day. The bedroom felt warm despite the fan turning overhead. The sheets were too heavy. Your skin felt sticky after your shower, and even the thin cotton sleep shirt you wore clung uncomfortably to your back.

You were exhausted.

You had spent the day running errands, answering messages, cleaning, and pretending the heat had not slowly drained your soul from your body.

By the time you climbed into bed, you wanted only darkness, cold air, and silence.

Sukuna came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, shirtless, wearing dark sleep pants low on his hips. He turned off the bathroom light and crossed the room, looking completely unaffected by the heat because the universe had favorites and apparently he was one of them.

He slid into bed behind you.

You felt the mattress dip.

Then his arm wrapped around your waist.

His chest pressed against your back.

One leg pushed between yours.

His face tucked against the nape of your neck.

You closed your eyes.

For approximately ten seconds, you tried to tolerate it.

Then his breath warmed your skin.

Your eye twitched.

“Sukuna.”

“Mhm?”

“You’re hot.”

His arm tightened.

“I know.”

You turned your head slightly. “Not like that.”

His mouth curved against your shoulder. “You should be more specific.”

“I mean your body temperature.”

“That sounds less flattering.”

“You are making me sweat.”

“You were already sweating.”

“You are making it worse.”

He gave a sleepy hum and pressed a kiss beneath your ear.

Normally, that would have softened you.

Tonight, it made you feel approximately twelve degrees warmer.

You shifted forward.

Sukuna followed.

You shifted again.

He followed again.

You stared into the darkness.

“Sukuna.”

“What?”

“You’re following me.”

“I’m lying down.”

“You moved.”

“You moved first.”

“Because you were on me.”

“I’m always on you.”

“Yes, that is the problem.”

He went quiet.

You felt a small, immediate stab of guilt, but you were too tired and too warm to soften the truth.

You turned carefully in his arms to face him.

His eyes were open now, faintly visible in the dim light.

You placed one hand against his chest.

“Baby,” you said gently, “can you please go to your side tonight?”

He stared at you.

Not angry.

Not offended.

Just still.

You continued, trying to keep your voice soft.

“I’m really hot, and I’m tired, and I need a little space to sleep.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Space.”

“Yes.”

“From me.”

You sighed. “Not emotionally.”

He watched you for another second.

Then, without a word, Sukuna released you.

He rolled away.

You exhaled in relief, stretching your legs beneath the sheet.

Finally.

Cool air touched the back of your neck. The mattress no longer felt like an oven filled with muscle.

You closed your eyes.

Then you heard movement.

The mattress shifted again.

A second later, it rose.

Your eyes opened.

You turned over.

Sukuna was standing beside the bed.

You blinked at him.

“What are you doing?”

“You wanted space.”

“I meant go to your side.”

“I am.”

“You are off the bed.”

He looked down at the floor.

Then back at you.

“This is my side now.”

You stared.

He stared back.

“Sukuna.”

“What?”

“You’re standing.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You requested distance.”

“I requested that you move twelve inches.”

“You did not specify.”

“I said your side.”

He gestured toward the empty strip of mattress he had abandoned.

“That is your side.”

“Then why are you on the floor?”

He folded his arms across his chest.

“You said you were hot.”

“I am.”

“You said I was the problem.”

“I said your body heat was the problem.”

“Same thing.”

“It is absolutely not the same thing.”

Sukuna looked away with the deeply wounded expression of a man who had been betrayed by the legal system.

You pushed yourself up onto one elbow.

“Come back to bed.”

“No.”

Your eyebrows rose.

“No?”

“You wanted space.”

“I have space.”

“Good.”

“Sukuna.”

He sat down on the floor beside the bed.

You stared at the top of his pink head.

This man.

This enormous, frightening, stubborn man.

He sat on the bedroom floor like an exiled dog.

You leaned over the edge of the mattress. “What are you doing now?”

“Sleeping.”

“On the floor?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to sleep on the floor because I asked you to roll over?”

He looked up at you.

“You said please.”

“That usually makes a request nicer.”

“It sounded serious.”

“It was serious because I was hot.”

“And now you’re not.”

You rubbed one hand over your face.

“Sukuna, there are other options between crushing me in your sleep and abandoning the bed entirely.”

He shrugged.

You could tell he was trying to appear indifferent.

He failed.

His shoulders were stiff. His mouth was set in a firm line. He looked offended, but beneath it was something almost embarrassingly soft.

He genuinely thought you did not want him near you.

The realization made your irritation fade.

Mostly.

“You’re being dramatic,” you said.

“You’re being controlling.”

“You were wrapped around me like a heated blanket.”

“You usually like it.”

“I do usually like it.”

His eyes flicked toward yours.

You softened your voice.

“I’m just tired tonight.”

He studied your face carefully.

Then he looked away again.

“Fine.”

He stayed on the floor.

You stared at him.

He stared at the wall.

The fan continued turning overhead.

Somewhere outside, a car passed.

You were about to reach down and physically drag him back onto the mattress when Sukuna suddenly leaned toward the nightstand.

You watched as he opened the bottom drawer.

“What are you doing?”

He ignored you.

His hand disappeared inside.

Then he pulled out a small bag of candy.

You blinked.

It was your favorite candy.

The kind you always forgot to buy for yourself. The kind he complained was too sweet while somehow keeping emergency bags hidden throughout the house.

Sukuna opened the bag.

The plastic crinkled loudly in the quiet room.

He took out one piece and held it up.

You stared at it.

He stared at you.

“What is that?” you asked.

“Candy.”

“I can see that.”

He extended his hand slightly.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you bribing me?”

“No.”

“You’re offering me candy immediately after I asked for space.”

“Yes.”

“That is a bribe.”

“It is a negotiation.”

You looked at the candy again.

Then at him.

His expression remained perfectly serious.

You took it.

His eyes watched as you unwrapped it and placed it in your mouth.

The sweetness bloomed across your tongue.

Sukuna waited exactly three seconds.

Then, in the calmest voice imaginable, he asked, “Can I cuddle now?”

Your heart broke.

Not dramatically.

Not painfully.

Just softly, all at once, under the weight of how ridiculous and sweet he was.

You stared at him on the floor, hair messy from lying down, candy bag in one hand, his entire intimidating body folded beside the mattress because you had asked for a little room.

He looked so serious.

So hopeful.

So stupidly cute.

You sighed.

“Oh, baby.”

His brows pulled together. “What?”

You reached down and grabbed his wrist.

“Come here.”

He stood immediately.

Too quickly.

You almost laughed.

Sukuna climbed back into bed, and before he could arrange himself around you again, you caught him by the shoulders and pulled him toward you.

He blinked in surprise as you wrapped both arms around his neck.

You hugged him tightly.

Not politely.

Not delicately.

You squeezed him until his cheek pressed against yours.

“There,” you murmured. “Happy?”

His arms came around your waist slowly.

“Yes.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“No.”

“You moved to the floor.”

“You asked for space.”

“You brought me candy to negotiate physical affection.”

“It worked.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

His face had gone smug again.

The softness had not disappeared, though. You could still see it beneath the smirk.

You lifted both hands and squeezed his cheeks.

His lips pushed forward.

His eyes narrowed immediately.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re so cute.”

His expression darkened.

“Stop.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You had emergency candy in the nightstand.”

“That was for me.”

“You hate that candy.”

“I tolerate it.”

“For me.”

“No.”

You squeezed his cheeks harder.

His mouth compressed between your palms.

“You’re adorable,” you said.

His muffled voice came out furious. “Take your hands off my face.”

“You’re my cute little clingy husband.”

“I will leave again.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I might.”

You released his cheeks.

He stared at you with deep offense, red eyes narrowed, face slightly pink where you had squeezed it.

You kissed one cheek.

Then the other.

His expression softened immediately despite his best efforts.

You smiled.

“There he is.”

“Who?”

“My sweet baby.”

“I’m older than you.”

“By one year.”

“And larger.”

“Much larger.”

“Then stop calling me baby.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

“No.”

He glared.

You grinned.

Then his arms tightened suddenly, and he rolled you beneath him in one smooth movement. You gasped, laughing as he buried his face against your neck.

“Sukuna!”

“You wanted to cuddle.”

“I did not say suffocate me.”

“You hugged me first.”

“I felt bad.”

“That sounds like permission.”

“It is not.”

He settled more of his weight carefully over you, still holding himself up enough not to crush you.

You were warm again.

Too warm.

His chest was a furnace.

His breath tickled your neck.

But now you could feel the way he smiled against your skin, satisfied and peaceful, as though the universe had been restored to its proper order.

You sighed.

“Can we at least compromise?”

“No.”

“Sukuna.”

“What?”

“You can cuddle me, but no leg trap.”

His thigh was already wedged between yours.

He moved it reluctantly.

“And do not put your whole body on me.”

He shifted half an inch.

“More.”

Another inch.

“Sukuna.”

He rolled onto his side and pulled you against his chest.

It was still warm, but less suffocating.

You rested your cheek against him.

“Better?”

He grunted.

“That means yes.”

“It means I’m tolerating your rules.”

“You love my rules.”

“I hate rules.”

“You make rules for everything.”

“Mine are correct.”

You smiled into his chest.

His hand moved slowly along your back.

The room settled around you again. The fan whispered overhead. The candy bag remained open on the floor beside the bed, one piece missing, the evidence of his absurd little peace offering.

After a few quiet minutes, Sukuna spoke.

“Do I bother you?”

His voice was different.

Lower.

Careful.

You lifted your head.

“What?”

He did not look at you.

“When I follow you around.”

Your heart softened again.

You shifted higher, propping your chin against his chest.

“Sometimes.”

His eyes snapped toward yours.

You laughed quietly.

“Not in a bad way.”

“That is exactly what someone says before saying something bad.”

“I like that you want to be near me.”

He watched you closely.

“I also like being alone sometimes.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you stand behind me every time I cook?”

“You could burn yourself.”

“I have never burned myself.”

“You could.”

“Why do you follow me into the bathroom?”

“You take too long.”

“You brush your teeth twice just to stand next to me.”

“That is dental responsibility.”

You smiled.

He looked away.

You touched his cheek.

“Sukuna.”

“What?”

“You do not have to be touching me every second to know I love you.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“I know.”

“You’re saying that like you don’t know.”

“I know.”

You waited.

His fingers continued tracing slow lines along your back.

Finally, he sighed.

“You’re quiet.”

“I know.”

“You disappear into your own head.”

“I do.”

“And sometimes I can’t tell if you want me there.”

You stared at him.

Sukuna was not shy.

He was not insecure in the ordinary way. He walked through the world like it belonged to him and merely allowed other people to occupy portions of it.

But with you, beneath all the smugness and possessiveness and constant touching, there was something unexpectedly vulnerable.

He loved you so much that sometimes he did not know where to place it.

So he placed it everywhere.

Against your waist while you cooked.

Across your lap on the couch.

Beside you at the bathroom sink.

Wrapped around you in bed.

You leaned closer and kissed him gently.

“I always want you in my life,” you whispered. “I just do not always want you physically attached to my spine.”

His eyes narrowed.

“That sounds contradictory.”

“It is not.”

“It is.”

“You can sit beside me without sitting on me.”

“Why?”

“Because I am a person, not furniture.”

“You’re comfortable.”

You laughed softly and kissed him again.

He followed your mouth when you pulled away, stealing one more.

Then another.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured.

“You like me.”

“I love you.”

The smugness left his face.

It always did when you said it plainly.

His eyes softened, his hand moving up to cradle the back of your head.

“I love you too.”

You smiled.

“Even when I need space?”

He stared at you.

“Unfortunately.”

You pinched his side.

He caught your wrist.

“You’re aggressive.”

“You called loving me unfortunate.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I did.”

You settled back against his chest.

He adjusted the sheet over both of you and tucked you closer, but this time he left enough room for air to pass between your bodies.

Barely.

It was an improvement.

After another minute, you felt his breathing deepen.

His grip loosened.

You considered moving.

The old routine.

Wait until he slept, then carefully slip away.

You lifted your head slightly.

Sukuna’s eyes remained closed, his face peaceful in a way it rarely was during the day. One hand rested loosely at your waist. His hair fell over his forehead. His mouth, so often curled into a smirk or sharpened by irritation, had softened in sleep.

Cute.

Painfully cute.

You reached up and squeezed his cheek once more.

His eyes opened instantly.

“What?”

You smiled.

“Nothing.”

“You touched my face.”

“You’re cute.”

“Go to sleep.”

You kissed his cheek.

He closed his eyes again.

Then, without opening them, he tightened his arm around you.

“Don’t move.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.”

“You answered immediately.”

“Instinct.”

“Clingy instinct.”

He pulled you closer.

You laughed quietly.

The summer heat still pressed around the room. His body was still warm. You would probably wake up sweating at some point and regret every decision that had brought you here.

But for now, you tucked your face beneath his chin and wrapped one arm around his waist.

Sukuna hummed, satisfied.

“There,” he murmured sleepily. “Better.”

You smiled against his skin.

“For you.”

“For us.”

“Mostly you.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“And I’m cute.”

You lifted your head.

His eyes remained shut, but the corner of his mouth had curved.

You narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you hated being called cute.”

“I do.”

“You just called yourself cute.”

“I said you said it.”

“That is not what happened.”

“Go to sleep.” You laughed softly and settled against him again.

A few minutes later, when you thought he had finally fallen asleep, his voice rumbled through his chest.

“There’s more candy in the drawer.”

You smiled into the dark.

“Is that another negotiation?”

“Maybe.”

“For what?”

His arm tightened around you.

“Tomorrow.”