angel @boba707 - Tumblr Blog

fratkuna always folds for his hot, bimbo baby !

1. BIMBO DIARIES #1 : CAN A CUTE GYAL GET SOME SEX ?

it’s 9PM thursday & ryomen sukuna has his back bent over his desk & cola sticky on his lip. through his laptop screen treasurer nanami kento is there, hair a mess & glasses slipping & badly lit by the fluorescent light.

they’re planning the budget for next friday’s spring party—the invites, if gojo should be allowed near the playlist, lower entry fees so toji can actually attend—& something else sukuna doesn’t hear because you swing the door open & walk in with clicky heels & a smile sticky with gloss.

“ryomen!”

your voice is a song & your eyes shine too-bright. sukuna’s eyes never leave his screen as you drop into his lap, knees bent in a kick as you hug his neck tight.

“what are you doing?” you hum into his cheek.

“meeting,” he murmurs, ignoring the gloss-drenched kisses you press to his jaw. through the screen nanami is pursed lip & awkward gaze, fixing his glasses as sukuna pretends his thumbs aren’t grazing circles on your hips.

you turn to the screen, grin clumsy, leaning forward so it fills up with your face. “hi, kenny!”

nanami softens. “good evening, y/n.”

you beam, but your grin can hardly stretch before sukuna’s palm grabs your face & tugs you into his chest. you pout up at him but his gaze stays glued to the screen.

“kento,” his voice is cool. “the guest list. you were saying?”

you’re buttoning & unbuttoning his shirt with your lips jut out but ryomen sukuna pays you no mind.

“yes,” nanami picks up a pen, neck rash red. “i was saying—“

“kuna,”

you interrupt nanami with a finger tugging at your boyfriend’s necklace. sukuna sighs, doesn’t look down at you or your pout.

“tell me.”

“can we have cake for dinner ?”

“no.” he taps something on his keyboard. “kento, go ahead.”

“right. i think—“

“kuna,”

sukuna breathes. “tell me.”

“you shouldn’t say no to your girlfriend.”

“my bad, sweetheart.” he’s sighing now but his palm squeezes your thigh. “kento.”

“right. as i was saying—”

“kuna,”

sukuna closes his eyes. one second, two, & he can still feel you looking up at him with that soft, sweet pout. he won’t kiss it away. not here, not now.

“tell me, baby.”

“i can’t, it’s embarrassing.”

he’s pinching his nose now, eyes shut as you sit up on his thigh. through the screen nanami’s eyes are twitching & his lips are pursed like he’s resisting the urge to ask if you’re deadass.

sukuna finally turns to you; bleary-eyed & gaze half-lidded. “say it in my ear ?”

you nod & he leans down with an ear to your lips. your gloss stains the shell when you lean closer:

“i’m horny.”

sukuna blinks. he wants to ask how the hell that happened, if you’re messing with him, if you have any sense of time & place and why your gaze is shy as if he’d ever tell you no.

he turns back to his laptop, necklace still in your grip. “kento, something came up. rain check?”

“liar. i heard that.”

sukuna slams his laptop shut. you squeal as he lifts you in his arms.

2. BIMBO DIARIES #2 : I WANNA TWERK ON THE FLO’ !

God has blessed gojo satoru with the gift of legwork. so just as david danced before the lord, gojo satoru dances on sigma-chi’s table with all his might.

with you right beside him, of course.

sigma-chi’s frat house is sweat-soaked bodies pressed together & neon lights on a friday evening. by the corner to the left, ryomen sukuna is watching you with a cup to his lips & bleary eyes.

on the center table, gojo is twirling you around with his chain glinting & cap tilted off. you cheer along with the crowd as the music switches to burna boy & gojo throws it back. nanami kento is somewhere near the bar, cheeks flushed & praying the wine’s strong enough to help him forget the sight.

“ryomen,” suguru’s voice is sudden beside him. “get your girl off that table. quickly.”

sukuna shoots him a side eye. “get your boyfriend off first.”

on the table you’re still cheering, grin clumsy, hair soaked against your neck & cup in your hands. sukuna catches your eye. you blow him a kiss but he keeps a straight face. you pout once & he raises a palm to catch it lazily before you beam & resume dancing like an episode character.

beside him, suguru doesn’t blink. “he’s not my boyfriend. and stop deflecting.”

“you let him sleep in your bed.”

“he has nightmares.”

“he has a crush on you.”

geto ignores his statement. “i’m not playing with you. i want her off the table now. she shouldn’t even be here—i told you no shein outfits in my frat house.”

as if on cue, toji walks by, 500% polyester shirt squeaking through the music. sukuna raises a brow.

“he’s a brother! i can’t do anything about it!”

“whatever you say, vice.” sukuna drawls, taking a swig from his cup. his eyes flit back to you on the table. you’re laughing away and still drunk & dancing, but now your knees are bruised & wobbly & his brows scrunch because you might fall any second.

you stumble—just once, just slightly, & ryomen sukuna is already moving.

he’s squeezing through drunk bodies now, alcohol sloshing around in his cup. ahead of him geto is already there, begging satoru to please come down. he sets his cup on a passing tray & he’s by your side at the table in seconds.

“kuna!” you cheer, eyes meeting his & still dancing. “hi, baby!”

“hi, beautiful,” his voice is soft as you dance your way over to him, heavy palms coming up to catch your hips. he looks up at your flushed cheeks & bright eyes before pressing a kiss to your thigh. “time to stop dancing.”

you squeak, jerking out of his hold to run away. “no—! i’m still having fun with satoru—“

you make about three steps before he catches your heel & tugs you into his chest.

“put me down, ryo!”

“no, you’re done.”

“no!” you’re whacking his chest as he shifts your thighs over his arms to carry you bridal style. “put me down! put! me! down!“

sukuna ignores you. “ryomen! i swear if you don’t put me down right now i’ll—“

“can you shut up for five seconds?”

ryomen sukuna is tired. bones limp, eyes bleary, neck rash red for no good reason. he knows he shouldn’t snap but the words seem to work because you go silent & still in his arms.

too still.

he won’t look down. it doesn’t matter anyway—you’ll get over it. he did it for the best & he doesn’t care if you cry because—

“fuck, wait—baby don’t cry,”

he’s much too late. your lashes are already tear rimmed & you’re squeezing his shirt while peering up at him with glossy eyes. sukuna bites his lip. god, what has he done?

“is it because i embarrass you?” you sniffle, lips wobbly & cheeks hot from the alcohol. “is that why you never let me dance?”

sukuna exhales, breath shaky, gaze pulling away from yours because he’s never been good at looking you in the eyes after making you cry.

“that’s not true and you know it,” he squeezes your thigh. “i don’t care about you dancing. i care about you not breaking your leg.”

you soften in his grip, peering up at him for a beat.

“kuna?”

“tell me.”

“i forgive you.”

sukuna scoffs, patting your hip. “thank you, angel. and geto is an idiot.” he mumbles the last part.

you’re still peeking up at him, still drunk & starry-eyed. “kuna.”

“tell me, baby.”

“i love you.”

ryomen sukuna kisses your hair. he doesn’t say it back but you feel it in how he grips you tighter.

3. BIMBO DIARIES #3 : DRESS UP DARLING !

the only thing between ryomen sukuna & his sunday afternoon nap is his beautiful girlfriend with her back against his chest.

sukuna is tired. on sundays like these he always is, limbs groggy & eyes heavy with sleep. he has his cheek in your neck & his arms around your waist. his back’s against the headboard and yours is on his own.

“kuna.”

“tell me.”

you turn to show him a jacket on your phone. “should i get this?”

sukuna nods. he parts his lips to speak but whatever he says is drowned out by sleep.

“kuna.”

“tell me, baby.”

“this pink dress, or the green one?”

sukuna squints. your screen is too bright in his face & he wants to tell you to move it away but he doesn’t. his thumb circles your hips, “green one.”

you frown, glaring at him. “are you mentally illiterate?”

sukuna blinks. he doesn’t know what that means. he wants to ask, but you likely don’t know either.

“you know i don’t like green.”

“so why was it even an option.”

you ignore him & turn back to scroll through your phone. he’s watching you click through items now with his thumb still brushing your hip. a top, some boots, a dress he knows you’ll wear once & never again—and the total only climbs up. by the time you’re done the total is $400. he can only hope you double checked it was CAD & not USD.

he closes his eyes against your neck, body limp & heavy with sleep.

“kuna.” your voice is warm in his ear.

“tell me.”

“i don’t actually want to buy all this.”

sukuna cracks an eye open. he’s still pressed against your neck, warm & half-awake, & he can see your lashes fluttering & cheeks swollen in the heat. he doesn’t ask what you mean—your voice beats him to it.

“i just wanted to buy something pretty,” you murmur, small & half-shy. “so i look pretty. for you.”

sukuna blinks. and then he sighs, because you’re silly & ridiculous & so fucking his.

“you always look pretty,” he mumbles lazily into your shoulder blade, eyes fluttering shut. “and you know this. i tell you every time.”

you bite your fingernail, turning a little to meet his head buried in your neck.

“kuna,”

“tell me.”

“i love you.”

ryomen sukuna only sighs. he’ll never say it back but you feel it in how he tugs you into his chest to lie on top of him.

you pout, “kuna.”

“tell me, baby.”

“can i still order it ?” you have your chin on his chest now, peering up at him through pretty lashes as sukuna tries, tries to go to sleep.

“order it, princess.”

“with your card ?”

sukuna grits his teeth. “with my card.”

BIMBO DIARIES , end.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

angel