The fight between Gojo and Sukuna had split the campus straight down the middle.

Nobody even remembered what started it anymore. One person claimed Sukuna swung first at a frat party, another said Gojo laughed in his face one too many times. Either way, it ended with broken tables, bruised egos, and half the campus recording it.

Despite Gojo being just as annoying in his own way, most people sided with him.

Because Sukuna? Sukuna was aggressive. Loud about it too. Impossible to reason with once he got pissed off. Meanwhile Gojo could smile pretty, crack a joke, and act like he hadn’t just verbally destroyed someone five minutes earlier.

So people slowly stopped associating with Sukuna. Most people were just waiting for everyone to forget about the dumb fight.

Girls that once begged to leave parties with him suddenly “weren’t looking for anything serious.” Frat guys kept conversations short, careful not to end up on the wrong side of Gojo’s social circle.

Not because they hated Sukuna.

Because being around him suddenly felt inconvenient, and Sukuna pretended not to care. At first. But eventually it got impossible to ignore.

His phone stayed dry. Parties became awkward. Girls who used to throw themselves at him were now posting pictures in Gojo’s lap while he grinned at the camera like he’d won something.

It made Sukuna furious.

And there was no chance in hell he was apologizing to Gojo.

Still, being pissed off and touch-starved at the same time was becoming a dangerous combination. Which was probably why his attention started drifting toward you. His roommate.

Quiet, reserved you.

Nobody disliked you — you just avoided conversation like the plague. Earbuds in, eyes down, always slipping away before anyone could pull you into small talk.

Sukuna didn’t mind it. Honestly, it made living together easy.

He could stumble home drunk at three in the morning, leave clothes everywhere, dishes rotting in the sink, music blasting — and you’d never really fight him on it.

You’d sigh. Mutter under your breath while cleaning up after him. Give him irritated looks. But that was it.

Eventually, domestic habits settled between the two of you naturally.

You washing his laundry because he’d leave it on the bathroom floor. You shoving water into his hands during hangovers. Him stealing food off your plate without asking. Neither of you acknowledged how couple-like it looked. Not that Sukuna cared. At least, he thought he didn’t.

Until weeks of rejection started bruising his ego.

Then suddenly he noticed things-- The way your shorts rode up when you bent down. Your skin after showers. The sleepy annoyance in your eyes whenever he came home loud. And once Sukuna wanted something, he didnt back down unitl he sank his teeth in.

So the flirting started. “Didn’t know you had legs like that.” “You always this hot or am I losing my mind lately?” Lingering stares. Smirks that meant trouble. Sitting too close on the couch. You called him weird every single time...mostly because this was new.

The apartment was dark except for the glow of the TV. Some movie everyone online kept talking about played in the background, neither of you really paying attention anymore.

Then Sukuna’s hand slid onto your thigh, and you stiffened immediately.

Like it was normal, he leaned into your neck, lips brushing warm against your skin in lazy kisses. The sudden closeness caught you off guard, and you pushed against his chest.

“What?” Sukuna asked flatly, pulling back just enough to look at you like you were the weird one.

His thumb rubbed slow circles into your thigh.

“C’mon, It’s not like I’m asking for commitment.”

He leaned closer again, lips brushing your neck while his hand slid higher up your thigh.