Chapter Text
Ryomen Sukuna always sits in the same place every week. In the back corner of the lecture hall, he flirts with the Tri Delta sorority girl beside him, completely tuning out the rest of his Anthropology-1107 class. He likes that girl well enough, she usually wears scent-blocking patches, which he appreciates due to his sensitivity to pheromones. He finds them overly strong, pungent, sickeningly sweet in the worst way, and migraine inducing.
He doesn’t really care about his Anthropology class. It’s a time filler for him, he heard the professor was a chill grader who always assigns group projects, and Sukuna didn’t want to take some difficult, GPA-killing science class — especially not after Gojo had to drop his evolutionary bio class ‘cause he was failing.
Sukuna doesn’t exactly stick out in that class, he’s quiet enough in the back row, but he’s still the kind of guy that demands attention, attracts it without trying. Being the rush chair for the Tau Curse Epsilon frat will do that for you, as well as one of the most popular alphas on campus.
It’s for that reason that everyone notices when he picks his bag up one day, nose scrunched in pure repulsion the second that sorority girl sits next to him one day. She gives him a sickeningly sweet smile as she sits, wearing a tank top that shows way too much skin for a 9am class. The neighboring people can smell that she’s in pre-heat, but it’s mild enough to where it isn’t bothersome. Sukuna, however, stands up abruptly, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and marches down the ramp to the only open seat: next to you.
Eyes follow him as he walks, and widen when he sits beside you. Third row from the front, against the left wall, you’re quiet, studious enough where people’s eyes slide right past you without noticing you’re there at all. And you hardly notice when he sits down in the seat to your right. You glance over at him once, your gaze sliding over his easy smirk, and look back down at your notebook, expressionless with not even a hint of recognition.
He doesn’t really care, doesn’t think too much of it or you, not until halfway through class when you take your sweatshirt off, draping it over the back of your chair. The adjustment sends a wave of your scent his way, and he stiffens, nose flaring. He tries to hide how deeply he inhales, the clean, lineny scent of your pheromones surprisingly pleasant to him. Not just pleasant, you’re arguably the best smelling omega he’s ever smelled.
You’re completely oblivious, taking your notes with your color coded pens and highlighters, meticulously organized, too concentrated on your own work to notice how Sukuna has inched closer to you, angled his body towards you, and is exclusively breathing through his nose in deep inhales.
Sukuna is arguably more distracted sitting next to you than he was when sitting next to that sorority girl.
You give him a small, polite smile as you stand up and leave, the first real time you’ve acknowledged him. Sukuna shoots back an awkward smile, caught off guard and unsure how to react. He stiffens as you walk past him to exit the row of seats, the proximity between you drowning Sukuna in the pleasant smell of your pheromones.
He finds Toji after class, leaning over some blushing freshman. “Yo, Toji. Y’need a ride home?” Sukuna asks, car keys jingling as he fishes them out of his pocket. Toji rips his gaze away from the girl, who says goodbye in a voice so flustered it sounds like a squeak.
“Sure, thanks man.” Toji replies, falling into step with Sukuna as they exit the building towards the parking lot. The two of them live in the off-campus frat house with several of their frat brothers, but Toji’s broke-ass doesn’t have a car, so he relies on bumming rides off his friends. Sukuna doesn’t really care either way, so long as Toji doesn’t scuff his interior.
The entire drive home, Toji won’t stop talking about the girl he slept with last weekend. Crude details slide out of his mouth, in one of Sukuna’s ears and right out the other. Sukuna hums at the right times, fingers tapping the steering wheel in a way that could be passed off as tapping to the loud music rattling the car, but in reality he’s doing it as a way to burn off the excess pent up energy from sitting next to you all class long. Sukuna can’t stop thinking about your smell, the way you straight up ignored him the entire time.
Sukuna can’t stop thinking about it even the next day when he does the liquor store run for their party that weekend.
Sukuna can’t stop thinking about it when he’s clutching a solo cup of vodka and sprite, some blonde omega sitting on his lap at his party.
Sukuna can’t stop thinking about it when he’s balls deep in that nameless girl, huffing in her pheromones to try and stop thinking about yours.
Sukuna can’t stop thinking about it.
--
“Have you ever like, smelled an omega so good that you can’t stop thinking about it?” Sukuna wipes the sweat from his forehead using the hem of his black beater. Gojo’s head whips around, almost crumpling under the weight of the barbell. He reracks it, sitting up on the bench.
“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?” Gojo asks, looking at Sukuna like he’s got four arms.
Sukuna shrugs. “Dunno, just a hypothetical.” He takes a sip of water, trying to focus his attention anywhere but Gojo’s stunned expression.
“That is not a hypothetical question. So… who is it?” Gojo wiggles his eyebrows. “Was it that girl you fucked the other day? Because, like- she was stupid loud, not sure if you want someone who’s that much of an exhibitionist.”
Sukuna glares down at him, wiping his sweat once more. “No. It’s this girl in my anthro class, you wouldn’t know ‘er.” He shrugs again. “She just smells good. Like, clean, y’know?”
“Not really, no. I don’t know about that kind of stuff, man.” Gojo runs a hand through his hair. Gojo’s an alpha, sure, but he and Geto have been together since high school, regardless of how unconventional of a pairing two alphas are. “I’d say talk to Toji, but he’s Toji. Why don’t you just talk to Yuji about this shit?”
Sukuna replaces Gojo’s spot on the bench, settling under the barbell. “We never talk to each other about girls, it’d be weird. Plus, Yuji’s too much of a loverboy, he’d tell me all that conspiracy shit about ‘fated mates’, no thanks.”
“He’s your brother. Not even your brother, he’s your twin.”
Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “And? The fuck does he know about girls?” He spits, lifting the bar and starting his set.
“Was she in pre? That could be why she smelled so good to you.” Gojo says, standing over Sukuna to spot.
“Definitely not.” Sukuna shakes his head as he reracks the bar. “Whatever. It’s fine, s’probably nothing.”
They don’t talk about it for the rest of the time they’re at the gym, but that doesn’t keep Sukuna from thinking about having class with you the next day.
--
He sits next to you again, out of his own free will this time. The sorority girl isn’t in class, so his usual spot is unobstructed, but he opts to sit beside you for the second time. The thud of his bag doesn’t draw your attention, and you keep making notes in your Google Calendar for some other class.
“Hey.” He says gruffly, setting his notebook on the table. That gets your attention, you freeze for a moment, before turning to look at him. “M’name’s Sukuna.”
“Hi.” You say, but it comes out as more like a question than a greeting. You give him your name, and he repeats it back to you, slowly, like he’s savoring it in his mouth.
“What’s your major?” He asks, and you try not to sputter in disbelief. Why on earth is Ryomen Sukuna trying to make small talk with you?
“Sociology. You?” You tell him, wiping the sweat of your hands onto your pants.
“Political science.”
You snap your head up. “Really?” It’s the last thing you would’ve expected from an infamous, womanizer frat guy. Though, it makes sense considering there’s very few majors with third-level anthropology classes available.
He shrugs. “Y’got a pen I could use?”
“Oh, yeah sure.” You slide your pencil case between you. “Take your pick.”
Throughout the rest of the class, he asks you occasional questions, clarifying ones, or asking you to explain something to him. You notice the way his nostrils flare each time you lean closer to him to write a note on his paper, shit- do you stink or something?
When class ends, he hands your pen back to you, even after you said he could keep it. He says goodbye to you with a shockingly genuine smile, and you feel your face flush in bewilderment.
This pattern continues over the next three classes, three weeks. He sits down next to you every day without fail, saying hi and asking how your week was and why he didn’t see you at any parties that weekend. It's uncharacteristic of him, and it slightly unsettles you. You’ve heard the rumors, of course; you know his reputation of sleeping with half the omegas on campus, using his large alpha demeanor to get away with it and getting way too fucked up way too often, not taking school seriously at all. So it’s more than odd that he’s nice to you, he has no reason to be.
Now, that doesn’t mean that he’s necessarily completely different than you’d thought. He’s still hulking, gruff, and crude. He teases you for your Hello Kitty themed pencil case and the anime stickers on your laptop, but you appreciate that he says hi.
As usual, he sinks into the seat next to you, nodding with a gravelly hey. You slide a pen towards him, the same black Pilot G-12 he always picks out of your pencil case when he forgets a pen every week without fail. He smirks at you, plucking it out of your hand.
Your professor begins talking, describing an upcoming project that will count as a summative assessment grade for the semester: researching campus culture and how student life adapts. A partner project. No solos. The second the words leave your professor’s mouth, Sukuna snaps his head over to look at you, almost pouting.
“So… We working together or what?” He smirks at you, propping himself up on his palm, turning completely towards you. He’s grinning like a motherfucker who just won the lottery, you groan internally.
You sigh, knowing you don’t have much of a choice but to work with Sukuna, it’s not like you have any friends in your class. “Yeah, I suppose.”
His smile only grows, and he slides his phone over to you. “Sweet. What’s your number, sweetheart?”
You take his phone, typing your number into a new contact. You agree to meet him on Monday mornings in the library in addition to your Thursday class. He stares at you the entire time you set the schedule, smiling in satisfaction as he watches you add it into your Google Calendar.
“Library?” He asks, ticking his head towards the door. A good portion of the class has left, pairs going elsewhere to start working on their projects. You nod, slipping your laptop and notebook back into your tote bag. He’s doing internal backflips at his luck. As you walk across the quad towards the library, he finally breaks the silence.
“Why do I never see you at parties?” He glances down at you, hands shoved in his pockets as he walks.
You readjust your bag on your shoulder as you continue walking. “Not my scene. Plus, I have to study.”
“D’you always have to study? You should come to one of my parties sometime.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “No. I like to stay far away from Greek life, no offense. Besides, like, can you seriously imagine me at a frat party?”
He cocks his head when he looks down at you again before shrugging. “You should try, just to let loose a little, might do you some good to do something other than study.”
I roll my eyes. “You say that like I’ve got a stick up my ass or something. I am perfectly social, it’s not like I don’t get invited to stuff, I just choose not to go.”
He raises his hands in defense, a playful smirk on his lips. “Alright, ma.” He pulls open the library door, holding it open for you.
You shoot him a look as you pass him, muttering a thank you. You go upstairs to a table in the back by a wall of windows. “This is my spot. Please do not infest it with your frat brothers.” You say, setting your stuff down.
“Toji is literally banned from the library.” He notes, sitting across from you and leaning back in his chair. You try not to focus on the sliver of stomach that shows when he stretches his arms up over his head.
“Perfect.” You smile at him, taking out your laptop. “Okay, so I can cover the academic part, like researching study spots on campus, work labs, and that kind of thing. You can do the informal stuff, Greek life, sports, and all that.”
He raises an eyebrow. “We should just do it together.”
You furrow your brows right back at him. “Why would we? It’s faster to split the work.”
He leans forward on his palm. “I can’t fuck anything up if you’re there to check all my work.” He points at you with his pen. “Isn’t anthropology about interaction anyway?”
You run a hand through your hair, sighing. “Yeah, I guess. Okay, so we’ll work together on all of that. We should conduct student interviews, go to all the popular restaurants and coffee spots on campus, maybe a few surveys— are you even listening to me?”
He’s staring at you, eyes glazed over, chin propped up on his hand. He blinks a few times. “What? Yeah, of course I fucking am.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, but don’t comment on it any further. You share your doc with him, and the two of you start working on the prep. What you don’t notice is how often he glances up at you, just to watch you work for a few seconds, to try and figure out what it is that draws him to you and why on earth you smell so heavenly when he’s always been so picky.
It soon gets dark, and you glance out the window and then at the time on your phone, cursing under your breath. The next shuttle off campus isn’t for another 45 minutes, and you really don’t want to wait alone in the dark.
“Y’need a ride home?” Sukuna asks, shutting the lid of his laptop.
Your lips part in surprise, pausing before you speak. “I, um… No, it’s okay, I live off campus, so I’m probably out of your way.”
“Where d’you live?” His eyes trace your hands as you start to put your things away. You tell him your address and neighborhood.
“Perfect, that’s near me. Let’s go.” He stands, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and ticking his head towards the door.
You sputter in response, but pack up the rest of your stuff quickly and follow him out to his car. You’re not sure what you were expecting Sukuna’s car to be, but a big black pickup truck fits the brand pretty well. “A-are you sure this is okay? Seriously, I can get home by myself.”
“In the dark, alone, at night, off campus? Right. Get in the truck, mama.” He pulls open the passenger door for you, looking at you expectantly.
“If I get in that car I am not having sex with you.” I point at the passenger seat in suspicion.
His jaw drops, and a shocked laugh leaves him. “The fuck?” He starts laughing, the sound deep and rattling.
“It’s a reasonable suspicion!” I yelp, face flushing. He’s still laughing at you as you continue speaking. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you have a certain reputation and I’ll have you know that yes I might be an omega but that does not mean that I am interested in every alpha that crosses my path.”
“I have no intention of fucking you, just get in the truck and let me take you home, ma.” He says, eyes slightly watery with the intensity of his laughter.
“Don’t call me ma.” You glare at him as you climb into the passenger seat, but it isn’t genuine, there’s no real malice behind it. He shuts the door after you, walking around and climbing into the driver’s seat.
As he drives towards your place, you continue talking about the project, agreeing on a list of on and off campus restaurants and coffee shops that are popular among undergrads. When he finally pulls into your driveway, he whistles. “Nice place. Y’got the whole house to yourself?”
You shake your head. “No, I’ve got a roommate, but she’s studying abroad this semester. Anyway, thanks for the ride.” You push open the door, slipping out. Sukuna waits until you’re inside before he drives away. He can still smell you in his car after you get out, and he turns on the air recirculation to let it linger before he can feel like a creep about it.
--
You meet Sukuna twice a week, as agreed upon, sometimes to do actual project work, and others to go to coffee shops and restaurants, interview students, or check out study spots. You’ve started bringing him coffee on days where you’re in the library early in the morning, and you know he was at a frat party the night before. It’s easy enough to fill a second tumbler of coffee when you make it for yourself in the morning anyway. He takes it every time with a small, sincere smile before he settles right back into the frat guy persona.
It scares you how easily it is to talk with him and how well he listens. He’s always looking at you, listening actively. He’s stopped being late to your sessions together, and drives you home afterwards every single time. There’s moments when you’re out trying a new coffee shop where you forget that this is for a project and not just hanging out with a friend.