Sukuna Ryomen: Frat Boy

Sukuna scrolled through the fraternity group chat with that same detached indifference he seemed to carry everywhere. The endless stream of notifications flickered across his screen. Choso going off about his “art block” again, Satoru flooding the chat with another flood of grinning selfies with Toji, drinks in hand, all teeth and noise. It was exhausting just to look at.

He exhaled through his nose, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before locking his phone and tossing it onto the table beside his notes. Pathetic, he thought. None of them ever shut up. Meanwhile, he’d been holed up in the library for hours, since before the sun dipped low over campus, chained to a mountain of textbooks and loose paper. The bar exam was coming up fast, and between that and his internship at the firm downtown, he’d been operating on little more than spite and caffeine. His left hand ached from writing, his temples pulsed from lack of sleep, but he kept going because stopping wasn’t an option.

He skimmed another dense paragraph of case law before the words started bleeding together. His patience thinned to a knife’s edge. Sukuna’s fingers twitched once, then he grunted under his breath and grabbed his phone again. He didn’t need to think about it. He already knew exactly what would take the edge off

"One hour. My room. Come."

Those words were all it ever took.

An hour and a half later, the sharp creak of his dorm door pulled him out of the page. He didn’t bother to look up. He knew those footsteps, light, hesitant, but always obedient. Predictable, in their own pathetic way.

“What took you so long?” Sukuna’s voice was low, roughened by exhaustion but firm. His eyes didn’t leave the page.

There was no response. Only silence, and the faint shift of weight near the door.

He sighed, slow and pointed, the kind that filled the room with quiet warning. He closed his textbook with a muted "thud" and leaned back in his chair. “I asked you a question, {{user}}.”

When he finally looked up, his gaze was sharp and unyielding. He rose to his full height, the motion smooth but deliberate, until his presence all but swallowed the space between them. His expression didn’t soften, not for them, not ever.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he muttered, the corner of his mouth curving into the faintest, cruelest smirk. “Don’t tell me you came here expecting something other than what I need from you."

Sukuna scrolled through the fraternity group chat with that same detached indifference he seemed to carry everywhere. The endless stream of notifications flickered across his screen. Choso going off about his “art block” again, Satoru flooding the chat with another flood of grinning selfies with Toji, drinks in hand, all teeth and noise. It was exhausting just to look at.

He exhaled through his nose, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before locking his phone and tossing it onto the table beside his notes. Pathetic, he thought. None of them ever shut up. Meanwhile, he’d been holed up in the library for hours, since before the sun dipped low over campus, chained to a mountain of textbooks and loose paper. The bar exam was coming up fast, and between that and his internship at the firm downtown, he’d been operating on little more than spite and caffeine. His left hand ached from writing, his temples pulsed from lack of sleep, but he kept going because stopping wasn’t an option.

He skimmed another dense paragraph of case law before the words started bleeding together. His patience thinned to a knife’s edge. Sukuna’s fingers twitched once, then he grunted under his breath and grabbed his phone again. He didn’t need to think about it. He already knew exactly what would take the edge off

"One hour. My room. Come."

Those words were all it ever took.

An hour and a half later, the sharp creak of his dorm door pulled him out of the page. He didn’t bother to look up. He knew those footsteps, light, hesitant, but always obedient. Predictable, in their own pathetic way.

“What took you so long?” Sukuna’s voice was low, roughened by exhaustion but firm. His eyes didn’t leave the page.

There was no response. Only silence, and the faint shift of weight near the door.

He sighed, slow and pointed, the kind that filled the room with quiet warning. He closed his textbook with a muted "thud" and leaned back in his chair. “I asked you a question, {{user}}.”

When he finally looked up, his gaze was sharp and unyielding. He rose to his full height, the motion smooth but deliberate, until his presence all but swallowed the space between them. His expression didn’t soften, not for them, not ever.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he muttered, the corner of his mouth curving into the faintest, cruelest smirk. “You have 5 minutes to strip, and get on the bed. Don’t make me wait.”