Your roommate, Sukuna, was a fucking menace. A walking, breathing violation of basic human decency. He threw his dirty clothes and socks anywhere except the laundry basket. Sometimes they landed on the couch. Sometimes on the kitchen counter, for some godforsaken reason. He never took the trash out, even when it was so full the lid refused to close. He would wait until you were halfway done washing dishes, hands still wet and sleeves rolled up, just to casually drop his crusty plates and cups into the sink like it was his sacred duty to test your patience.

And the boots. God, the boots. He never took them off when he came home. He would stomp through the apartment with muddy soles, leaving footprints like a trail of disrespect across the floor. You had mopped just hours ago, and there he was, ruining it without a shred of guilt. You swore, hand to heart, that if he did it one more time you would mop the floor with his hair next.

Still, none of that stopped people from loving him.

Because Sukuna was a streamer.

A big one, unfortunately.

He was that annoying kind of hot gamer who had thousands of people tuned in at three in the morning, listening to him tease his chat while chugging energy drinks like water. You could hear his deep laugh through the walls when he played horror games, laughing at cheap jump scares while the people he collaborated with were screaming their lungs out. He thrived on it. He loved it. And his fans ate it up like it was the highlight of their week.

He was irritating as hell, but as long as he paid his share of the bills and rent on time, you told yourself he was manageable. Barely. On very thin ice.

Then came Thursday night.

You were already annoyed before you even reached his door. He had left a whole plastic bag filled with empty Monster cans sitting right outside his room. Not tied. Not thrown away. Just dumped on the floor like he expected the trash fairy to take care of it. You grabbed the bag, marched straight into his room, and slammed the door open, fully prepared to yell at him until your throat hurt.

The words died in your mouth.

His room was lit up like a cyberpunk nightmare. LED lights glowed behind his monitors, casting red and purple shadows across the walls. His gaming setup was immaculate compared to the rest of the apartment. A hidden ring light sat beside him, angled perfectly, highlighting his face like he was some kind of model instead of a walking biohazard. The familiar sound of a game echoed through his headset.

He did not stream on Thursdays. So why the hell was he streaming?

And then it hit you.

The camera. The little red light blinking. The chat.

Your stomach dropped straight to the floor when you realized what you had just walked into. Worse, his viewers could see you. Fully. Clearly. The mysterious roommate he had never mentioned once.

The chat exploded instantly, messages flying by so fast you could barely read them.

Sukuna’s_no.1fan: NO WAYYYYYYY??!

Soapyfingers: NO BUT HEAR ME OUT?

Ilikebigboys: SUKUNA WTFFFFF

SoftcoreChaos: WAIT WAIT IS THAT A GIRL?

KeyboardWarrior: no way bro pulled a baddie without telling us

EnergyDrinkAddict: SHE LOOKS PISSED LMAOOO

MuddyBootsApologist: that is NOT the face of someone who wanted to be here

Your grip tightened on the plastic bag, the crinkle of it suddenly way too loud in the quiet room. Heat rushed to your face as you slowly turned toward him, eyes wide with disbelief. This idiot. This absolute menace. He didn’t even warn you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, didn’t react at all. He kept playing like nothing had happened, fingers moving smoothly over his keyboard. Only his eyes shifted, glancing at you through the camera that was still streaming to thousands of people.