Toxic Ex - Blog Posts

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

seeing his ex at an after party, but hey, who's to say he doesn't believe in second chances?

my masterlist | vogue collab masterlist !

✭ pairings: sukuna ryomen x oc actor! au

✭ warning: angst. sukuna trying to win his ex back. established gojo x oc. actor au.

✭ author’s note: first time writing for kuna!! gotta say, it was fun writing angst :)

✭ word count: 1k words

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

“Oh fuck.”

Sukuna’s eyes widened, muttering in shock. His confident smirk dropped the moment Gojo Satoru walked into the room, seeing the cocky smile on the white-haired man’s face, his sky-blue eyes hidden beneath his rectangular dark blue glasses. However, the sight of Gojo didn’t catch him off guard. The sight of the black-haired woman with striking lilac eyes left him speechless.

Himiko Nakamura. The memory of her just sends a shiver down his spine, and he can feel her fierce gaze through the crowd. No matter where she went, an overpowering presence followed, even in a celebratory award-afterparty such as this. She made her name as an actress at an early age – and it was one of the things that drew him in.

Sukuna couldn’t help but plaster his pompous smirk back on his face, but the little twitch in his was evident when he spotted Gojo’s arm around her shoulder. He hated that Gojo could hold her so freely, so casually. He hated every second of it, he hated the way he smiled at her, he hated the way she gave him the smallest of smiles back. He hated the way she didn’t shove him off when he neared her, and most of all – he hated that it wasn’t him holding her in that way.

His red eyes followed Gojo with a burning stare, watching the way the white-haired man had his arm slung so casually around Himiko. He waited patiently, taking another sip of his wine as he swirled it around in the glass.

A minute or two passes before Himiko finally pulls herself away from Gojo’s arms, and Sukuna smiles to himself with a soft ‘Finally!’ as he exhales. He sees her walk further away from the popular white-haired actor and towards the row of tables filled with drinks and snacks, and his feet take him closer to her.

He takes a step closer to her, one foot in front of the other and he feels his heart pumping harder in his chest. He adjusted his scarlet suit jacket, smoothing his pink hair down with his other hand, and he couldn’t help but admire the way the dark violet dress she wore complimented her figure, the shimmer of the fabric and glitter with every little move she made.

Sukuna cleared his throat, his mind running wild with all the ways he could greet her, but none of them came up as he saw her bright lilac eyes stare into his crimson ones, and his heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the day she left him, yet her cold gaze brought him back to reality.

“Sukuna,” Her voice called out, and the bitter way she said his name had him rolling his shoulders back.

Her tone was an ice dagger to his heart, her disdain for him evident just by how she held herself. She stood proud and tall – like the walls she had built for herself when she was with him.

“Himiko,” His smile grew, and he eyed her up and down. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Her sneer deepens, eyes narrowing as she speaks in that icy tone of hers, “As if you’d miss me.”

Sukuna’s eyes soften the slightest, but it flickers back to his cocky demeanour. He sees it in her eyes from how she tilts her head – she knows. Neither of them said a word about it, the pink-haired man glancing at his wine glass with an amused smile. 

“You’re sharp as ever, darling.”

“I’m not your darling,” She mumbles, “Not anymore. I think we both know that.”

He lets out a bittersweet smile, red eyes locking onto her lilac ones, “A man can dream, can’t he?”

“He certainly can, but it doesn’t mean that it’s reality.”

“But he can try until it is.”

She gives him a look, her hold on her glass tightening, “Sukuna, don’t.”

“I’m not saying anything specific,” He rolled his eyes, but his tone was uncharacteristically soft. “But… but what if I were to try again?”

Himiko’s back straightens, “I assumed so since you did hint at it, but you know why I left, Sukuna.”

“I do. But I can change, you know that Himiko.”

“Do I?” Her eyes narrowed. “Sukuna, I left you because you were so, so manipulative, you did anything to make me stay with you. I couldn’t take it, and you knew it, so forgive me if I don’t believe a single word you say.” 

Sukuna opened his mouth to say something else, but a hand on his shoulder halted him, his red eyes met sky-blue ones, and the dreaded Gojo Satoru smiled over at Sukuna with a lighthearted grin.

“Hey Sukuna, long time no see!” His grin was too wide for Sukuna’s liking. “I see you you’ve met my sweetheart.”

This irks Sukuna to no end, a smile of disbelief growing on the tattooed man’s face, “You’re her sweetheart? Himiko, he’s going to ditch you for someone else by the end of the week.”

“Nonsense!” Gojo grins widely, pulling Himiko to his side. “Miko, has he been bothering you with his bad jokes?”

“...Yeah, definitely,” Himiko mutters, leaning into Satoru’s touch. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough partying for tonight.”

Sukuna could see it in her eyes, the way she avoided his gaze now. Her posture remained upright, but everything in her body language was enough to tell him she was giving him the cold shoulder. He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the way his stomach tied into knots.

“It was nice to see you around, Sukuna,” Gojo grins, but it holds a dangerous glint. “But hey, it was fantastic seeing you again.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes red eyes with a grumble, but he fell silent as Himiko eyed him as she passed, Gojo’s arm a bitter reminder that she’s not his – and he doesn’t have a chance at redemption; not like deserved one anyway. 

As she passes, the speakers blare a song, almost as if fate was mocking him, heck he barely stood a chance the moment Gojo Satoru walked in with his arm around Himiko’s shoulders. Kali Uchis’ voice rings through the venue, the upbeat tempo a sickening reminder of his failures.

‘Why can’t you see you’re dead to me? Just leave it be, you’re dead to me.’

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