cw: f!reader, little plot much smut, squirting, Sukuna is really mean, degrading (calling reader slut and dumb), choking, some slapping, no aftercare sorry, rough, mentions of Uraume, mentions of cannibalism, d in p, overstim, cursing, random shit happens my bad
continuation of THIS hc
For the lovely @strawbrryfields4ever <33 hope u like
chef!sukuna who you couldn't get enough of.
As if you hadn't pissed him off the first time…
You kept visiting the restaurant, but Uraume always tried to keep you away from going anywhere near those same dark doors in the back. Clearly, they just didn't want your visits to stall business.
That picture you took of him was still in your gallery, and you darn wished you had some more.
chef!sukuna who you meet again in that alleyway where you had sneaked a picture.
Okay fine.
You might have kept walking past this spot every day at different times to see if he'd pop up there again.
But it was all just a coincidence. Swear.
chef!sukuna who was smoking, looking peaceful- without his usual scowl, while watching some clouds floating past the narrow view of the sky between the buildings.
You, ever the genius, thought this was the moment to take another photo.
Peeking in from the side and fumbling with your phone-
"If you're going to take a picture, turn off the flash this time."
Busted.
You eeked, dropping the device down and bending down to pick it up, fumbling around like some nervous schoolgirl.
"SssorryImsososossorry!"
Of course, you were nervous, the previous time you'd seen him, you'd gotten roughly railed against a sterile stainless steel island counter top.
You had been sore for days.
"Pathetic." Sukuna mumbled, flicking ash from the half-smoked ciggy onto the ground.
You glanced up at him, that disgruntled expression and furrowed brow back on his forehead.
Great, making him all grumpy again.
Not really sure why, but you were awkwardly standing beside him now, silently fidgeting with your nails, eyes darting up to his handsome side profile and then back to your feet, shifting and toeing at one another.
"Stop it." Sukuna grunted, eyes narrowing to give you a side eye, bringing the cigarette up to his lips for one last drag.
"Sorr-"
The smoke was blown in your direction, him leaning down on purpose to get it in your mouth.
You coughed, eyes wincing and covering your mouth.
chef!sukuna who just chuckled and tossed the cigarette butt down, crushing it with his shoe, hands folding down to slide into some side pockets. Those same biceps that had manhandled you before were a bit blurry from your eyes tearing up after having that little coughing fit.
But you just had to annoy him some more, accidentally, of course.
"That wasn't very nice."
Sukuna, whose eye twitched, reached a hand back out from his pants to grab you by the top of your hair, having you stumble closer and into his chest.
He let go of the top of your head, hand gently sliding down the back of it, confusing you on the sudden change of touch, until he found the back of your neck, thumb and forefinger digging into the sides, and having you splutter out a choke from the painful pressure.
chef!sukuna who made sure his pupils where directly in front of yours, having you make eye contact. Seems like he had a short fuse.
"Nice? Are you trying to tick me off again? I hold grudges. You still haven't been forgiven for the last time," he almost spat at you, his breath hitting your face and making the hairs on your arms stand up in fear- or how turned on you were getting. Hard to tell.
"No..no..no i just.. wanted to a..!"
"I don't care what you wanted to do. I will have you slobbering against this brick wall if you squeak out one more stupid thing."
chef!sukuna who left you in the alley after the threat.
chef!sukuna who left you utterly smitten and in need of a change of panties. He hopefully hadn't seen the way your pupils dilated, or your thighs suddenly drifted together after being told he'd fuck you in some semi-public space.
This somehow made you crave that mean man even more.
-
chef!sukuna who already felt like something was going to piss him off big time since waking up and opening the restaurant.
Uraume really had tried to keep peace, but you had been too determined, and now you were an official apprentice?
Yes.
Sukuna's apprentice. Unsure if you had just snuck in or if this was official.
He didn't do internships or charity work for aspiring chefs. For… obvious reasons.
Cough. Human meat. Cough.
No less some girl that's been on his ass for about a month now.
So when he opened those large kitchen doors and saw you dressed in some poorly ironed apron and a black uniform, hair done up, and a stupidly determined look on your face………
"URAUME! Close the fucking restaurant for today."
You didn't even get to explain that you wanted to start working here or be useful (your obsession with this horrible man only growing) when Sukuna was already throwing his hat off and grabbing you by the collar to shove against the nearest surface.
"Your empty head keeps thinking of things to do to completely tick me off, doesn't it?" he growled, red irises flicking across your face, a large hand smacking across your face, palm covering your pouty lips.
chef!sukuna who was trying not to snap you in half from the way his blood boiled.
"First, you try to be some paparazzi.. then you camp in MY restaurant and claim to be some regular. And now…. playing some silly prank. An apprentice? You? You're nothing but a dumb slut. I thought i fucked that into your little brain before. Guess i wasn't thorough enough."
The way Sukuna was baring his teeth and getting close enough to have your foreheads touch, his pink bangs falling into your eyes, seemed like he was about to bite you
You just whimpered, eyes wide and breathing heavily into his rough palm. You looked like you were about to have heart eyes from him being so aggressive, trying to slot your thigh between his.
chef!sukuna who caught on to you trying to get some friction before any even happened.
"The hell are you trying to do now, feel at my dick? You can't even wait for me to put it in you?" he dug the pads of his fingers into your cheeks before letting go.
You shortly gasped, taking a breath of air. "No…"
Sukuna's hand quickly returned to your face, delivering a small slap to your cheek for you to shut up.
The only thing it really did was make you whine some more.
chef!sukuna who lifted you up on the counter, the coldness from the metal seeping in through your slacks…. for about 3 seconds before they were meanly tugged down to one of your ankles, the fabric dangling. Let's not even talk about the apron.
He slotted himself between your bare thighs, giving a light smack to the tender flesh before grabbing the undersides of your legs, pushing your knees almost up to your ears- the position making you gasp and try to bring a hand down to cover your soaked panties before they gave him an overly embarrassing view of your pussy begging to be freed and touched.
That didn't fly at all, and he pushed your arm away to press a thumb meanly right into your sopping cunt, the damp cotton acting as a thin barrier.
chef!sukuna who toyed with you only for a moment before getting impatient and ripping the sheer things open.
chef!sukuna who pressed his hips forward, making sure you'd feel through the slacks what was going to make you get even dumber in a second, the hard outline of the same cock that had you crying a mere week ago. In this same kitchen.
chef!sukuna who kept your legs spread open, keeping you in a mating press so he'd get to watch how his meaty cock prodded and prodded, collecting the juices and slick to coat himself, helping the mean thing slide inside in a few thrusts.
This felt much deeper than getting bent over, every time the tip would roughly press up and leave a kiss at your cervix, your whole body jolted, lewd moans escaping your throat. Tears doing the same by dotting on your lower lash line- too good, too rough. It was like all of your words and ability to form thoughts had been wiped clean.
"Look at you… told y-ya i just had to…shit.. do it again."
"I was right, wasn't i?"
"Cmon, answer me, stupid slut. Don't tell me you're too cock drunk to even reply.''
You really couldn't, even if you tried- some slurred out a beg for more only came out instead of an answer.
You felt that familiar, warm bloom in your lower tummy, the tension so nice and the way Sukuna was holding you down and and and… Your own hand pulled at his forearm, trying to drag it away from your leg and have his hand closer to your face.
"The fuck are you doing?" Sukuna hissed out, slowing the brutal pace for a moment to try and puzzle together what you wanted, panting and narrowing his eyes.
You whined when the buildup was starting to disappear, tugging on it one more time.
Ohhhh..
"How cute… can't cum without this? How tight do you want it?" Sukuna asked, a grin smiling down at your blissed out face.
As if you had a say on how hard he'd squeeze.
A rough hand had wrapped around the front of your throat, squeezing the sides of it just enough to make you feel dizzy. The other arm also let go of your leg to press the middle and ring finger riiight to your pulsing clit, making sure to circle it a few times.
That got you to start shaking, hands desperately both holding on to the arm choking you. One or two tears rolled down your cheek as you came around the girthy dick, your legs, now freed, tensed up and tried to wrap around his waist to keep yourself stuffed.
chef!sukuna who didn't slow down one bit after watching you get your high and only started to make it more intense.
The hand from your throat slid down, popping open the shirt, making sure to bring your bra down with his fingers to watch those tits spill past it, not even giving the pebbling nipples any attention as he was busy guiding the large hand lower.
It stopped right where your lower stomach was.
Preeesssiinngg down on the sensitive part, right where your bladder was.
Not only that, but this made the feeling of his throbbing cock inside much more intense. The overwhelming feeling after having came once didn't help either. And the pressure on your clit and just… too much…
"Too,mmmuch… toomuch! much!" You gasped out, crying while trying to arch your back upwards from the counter, head shaking, and hands gripping onto whatever they could.
"Too much, too much! " He teased back, mocking your high-pitched voice, laughing before the fingers rubbing at your clit started to smack it instead.
Each slap made you twitch and jerk- wailing out some curses and incoherent words.
Your vision went blurry, and you swore you thought you had been brought up to cloud nine.
But this new feeling started to bubble from your core.
Press press.
whose palm squished your tummy down to try and get some more squeaky sounds out of you. But it might have backfired.
A sudden gush came out of you, squirting all over his hand and Sukuna's shirt.
This did make him falter a bit, grunting at the splash getting on his face. But his hand didn't pull away, milking every last drop of your second orgasm as much as he could.
All to see you squirm and look pathetic, really.
chef!sukuna who pushed his hips flush against yours and emptied his load as deep as he could inside with a loud grunt and bared teeth- punishment for getting his pristine counter and floor wet.
chef!sukuna who got you all dressed and gave you a smack on the ass before sending you on your merry way back home. Stuffed full and all loopy from having your guts… and brain cells rearranged.
No sweet aftercare here.
Not that you cared, you'd gotten exactly what you had wanted.
Not Uraume tho.
They were left alone in the restaurant, mopping up bodily fluids from the counters and sanitizing them.
Blood and guts weren't as bad as cum and some squirt.
Maybe you should ask Sukuna if he likes the taste of pussy next time you run into him. As he's big on food and all. Yknow.
Or maybe not, he might bite it clean off if you let him get anywhere near.
The soft hum of your desk lamp filled the space as you sat curled up on your bed, knees tucked to your chest, phone resting in your hands. You weren’t even really doing anything on it—just scrolling mindlessly, rereading old messages you shouldn’t be rereading.
His messages.
Your stomach twisted.
You hadn’t answered him all day.
Not because you didn’t want to.
But because you did.
Too much, maybe.
Every time his name lit up your screen, your chest tightened. You’d type something out, erase it, overthink it, panic, then lock your phone like that would somehow solve everything.y
It didn’t.
It just made things worse.
Your phone buzzed again.
You froze.
You already knew who it was.
Slowly, nervously, you looked down.
Sukuna:Â You alive?
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.
You typed:Â yeah
Then erased it.
Then typed: sorry I’ve just been busy
Erased that too.
Another buzz.
Sukuna: Don’t ignore me.
Your heart started beating faster.
You swallowed hard, your thumb trembling slightly as you locked your phone again, pressing it against your chest like you could quiet everything inside you.
“I’ll answer later…” you whispered to yourself.
You didn’t.
Minutes passed.
Then another buzz.
You squeezed your eyes shut before even checking it this time—but you did anyway.
Sukuna:Â Come outside. Now.
Your breath caught.
Outside?
Now?
Your gaze flickered toward the window, the dark campus stretching out beyond it, lit by scattered streetlights.
Your heart started racing for a completely different reason.
You sat there for a full minute, frozen.
Then:
You:Â why?
The reply came almost instantly.
Sukuna: Don’t make me come get you.
Your stomach dropped.
He would.
You knew he would.
And somehow, that made everything worse—and better—at the same time.
You stood up too quickly, nearly knocking your chair over. Your hands moved on their own, grabbing your hoodie, pulling it over your head, sleeves covering your fingers like armor.
“Okay… okay…” you muttered under your breath, trying to steady your breathing. “Just go outside. It’s fine.”
It didn’t feel fine.
Nothing about this felt fine.
By the time you made it down the hallway and out of the dorm building, your heart was pounding so loud you were sure it was audible.
The night air hit your face, cool and sharp.
And there he was.
Leaning against a car like he owned the entire campus, phone in hand, expression already edged with irritation.
The moment he saw you, he straightened.
“There you are,” he said.
Your steps slowed.
“…hi.”
Too quiet.
Too small.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he took you in—your hunched posture, your covered hands, the way you wouldn’t look at him.
That familiar tension snapped into place.
“What’s your problem?” he asked bluntly, pushing off the car.
Your chest tightened instantly.
“I don’t have a problem…”
“You do,” he said, walking toward you. “Because you’ve been ignoring me all day.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you, I just—”
“Don’t lie.” His voice sharpened. “I can see when you read my messages.”
You froze.
“…I didn’t know what to say,” you admitted quietly.
“That’s not an excuse,” he shot back. “Since when do you not know how to talk to me?”
“I always know how to talk to you,” you said, voice trembling. “I just… didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”
“And instead you said nothing?” he snapped.
You flinched.
“I-I thought you were mad at me,” you rushed out, words starting to trip over each other. “And I didn’t want to make it worse and I didn’t know how to fix it and—”
“Mad at you?” he cut in, brows pulling together. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“I don’t know!” Your voice cracked, panic rising. “That’s why I didn’t text you, I thought if I said something wrong you’d actually get mad and then—”
“Then what?” he pressed, stepping closer.
you backed up slightly without meaning to.
“I don’t know…” you whispered, your breathing uneven now.
“Look at me,” he said.
You couldn’t.
Your eyes stayed locked on the ground.
“I said look at me.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“I can’t…” you murmured.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll mess it up,” you said, voice breaking. “I always mess things up when I’m nervous and then you’ll get annoyed and I just—”
Your words dissolved completely as your breathing hitched.
You felt it coming.
You tried to stop it.
But the tears came anyway.
“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, voice shaking. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I just didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want you to hate me and—”
Your voice broke completely.
Silence dropped hard between you.
Sukuna froze.
“…shit.”
All the irritation drained from his face instantly, replaced by something else—something caught off guard.
“Hey—” His voice lowered immediately. “Hey, no, don’t—”
You turned your face away, trying to hide it, your hands coming up to cover your face as your shoulders shook slightly.
“I didn’t mean to—” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it…”
He stepped closer again, slower this time, more careful.
“Hey,” he tried again, softer now. “C’mere baby.”
You didn’t move.
So he did.
His hand gently wrapped around your wrist, tugging just enough to bring you closer—not forceful, just steady.
When you didn’t pull away, he pulled you into him, one arm coming around your shoulders.
It wasn’t perfect.
A little awkward.
But careful.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said quietly, his voice right above your head now. “I was just… annoyed. That’s it.”
You clutched lightly at his shirt, your voice barely there. “I’m sorry…”
“Stop apologizing princess,” he said immediately. “You didn’t do anything that bad.”
“I ignored you…”
“Yeah, and I came at you too hard,” he admitted. “So we’re even.”
You let out a small, shaky breath.
He shifted slightly, one hand coming up to awkwardly wipe at your cheek.
“You’re really sensitive,” he muttered—not harsh, just… noticing.
You nodded faintly against him.
“…I know.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“Yeah. I can tell.”
There was a pause.
Then he gently tilted your chin up, giving you time—waiting.
This time, you managed to look at him.
Your eyes were still wet, lashes clumped slightly, expression soft and fragile.
“…I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore,” you admitted.
He blinked.
“…what?”
“I thought you were getting tired of me,” you whispered.
He stared at you for a second—then let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff.
“You avoided me… because you thought I was avoiding you?”
You nodded a little, embarrassed.
“…yeah.”
He shook his head slightly.
“That’s…” He huffed. “That’s actually insane.”
Your face fell slightly.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’m not saying it like that,” he cut in quickly, softer now. “I just—” He paused, then sighed. “You’re overthinking everything.”
“…I know.”
Another quiet moment passed.
Then he nodded toward his car.
“Come on.”
“…where?”
“Out.”
You hesitated. “…like… now?”
“Yes, now.”
“…okay.”
—
You ended up sitting on the hood of his car in a quiet, empty parking lot, far from the dorms, far from everything loud and overwhelming.
The sky stretched endlessly above you, scattered with stars.
A paper bag sat between you.
Sukuna handed you a burger.
“Eat.”
You blinked. “…you brought food?”
“Obviously.”
“…for me?”
He gave you a look. “No, I brought extra for decoration.”
You gave a tiny, shy smile.
“…thank you.”
You ate slowly, still a little sniffly, your emotions settling bit by bit.
After a while, you leaned back slightly, looking up.
“It’s really pretty…”
“Yeah,” he said—but he was looking at you, not the sky.
You didn’t notice.
Your fingers fidgeted with the wrapper again.
“I really wasn’t trying to ignore you,” you said softly. “I just get scared I’ll say something wrong.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“…you don’t have to do that with me,” he said.
“I know… I just can’t help it sometimes.”
“…then tell me that,” he replied. “Don’t disappear.”
You nodded. “…okay.”
A small silence settled—comfortable this time.
Gentle.
He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly under your eye.
“You okay now?” he asked quietly.
“…yeah.”
“You sure?”
You nodded again.
He studied your face for a moment—then leaned in slowly, giving you time.
You didn’t pull away.
Your breath caught softly as his lips met yours—gentle, steady, nothing like the intensity from earlier.
It felt safe.
Warm.
When he pulled back, he stayed close, his voice low.
“…next time, just answer me.”
You gave a small, shy nod.
“…I will.”
His hand found yours again, fingers lacing together.
The apartment is quiet when Suguru gets home. The door clicks shut, and it’s the only sound for a second.
You don’t really think about it—you just get up and walk straight to him.
“There you are,” you say, grabbing onto his sleeves like you need to make sure he’s actually there. “You’re late, baby.”
He looks tired. Not overly dramatic about it, just… heavy. Like the day stuck to him. But he still gives you that small smile. “Work ran longer than expected.”
“I don’t like that,” you mumble, already pulling him down a little so you can reach him better.
And then you just start kissing him.
His cheek first. Then again. Then his jaw. It’s not planned—you just keep going like you missed him more than you thought.
“Baby,” you say against his skin, “you worked too much today.”
He lets out a quiet breath. “This is your solution, baby?”
“Yes.”
You don’t hesitate. You hold his face and kiss him properly this time, slower. When you pull back, you just kiss his nose right after like it’s nothing.
“You’re a lot,” he says, but his hands are already on your waist.
“And you love it.”
“I manage it,” he mutters.
“Same thing,” you say, kissing him again, a little longer just to prove it.
He exhales and pulls you closer. “You’re clingy today, baby.”
“I’m always clingy,” you say, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re gone all day. I’m allowed.”
He rests his chin on your head for a second. “I was working, not disappearing.”
“Still gone.”
You pull back and look at him properly this time. He looks tired in a way you don’t like, and it makes you go a little quieter.
“Sit,” you say, nudging him toward the couch.
He gives you a look but sits anyway. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing dramatic,” you say, standing behind him.
You put your hands on his shoulders and press a little. He tenses at first, then kind of melts into it after a second.
“You’re really stiff,” you say.
“Not surprising.”
“Mm.”
You keep going, trying to work out the knots. You’re not even that good at this, but he doesn’t complain. Every now and then, you lean down and kiss his head or the side of his face without really thinking about it.
“Feels nice,” he says quietly.
“Good,” you mumble. “That’s the point.”
After a bit, you tap his shoulder. “Okay, get up.”
He barely opens his eyes. “Why?”
“Bath. Come on.”
He sighs like he’s too tired to argue. “You’re doing a lot tonight, princess.”
“I know.”
You take his hand and pull him to the bathroom. The room fills with steam pretty fast, and when he gets in, he just kind of sinks into the water like he’s been waiting for it all day.
You sit next to the tub, brushing his hair back from his face.
“Relax, baby,” you say, leaning down to kiss his temple.
He looks up at you, softer now. “You’re taking care of me.”
“Yeah,” you say, a little quieter this time. Then you kiss him again, slower.
You help wash his hair, fingers running through it, not rushing anything. It’s quiet, but not awkward. Just calm.
When he gets out, he looks a little better. Not completely, but enough.
You hand him some clothes and nod toward the table. “I made food.”
He pauses. “You cooked?”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
He looks at you for a second, then back at the food. “You didn’t have to do all this, baby.”
“I wanted to.”
He walks over instead of sitting right away and touches your face, his thumb brushing your cheek.
“You’re good to me,” he says.
You shrug a little. “Just eat.”
“Bossy,” he mutters, but there’s no real attitude in it.
You stay close while he eats, leaning against him, kissing his cheek every now and then just because you feel like it. Sometimes his jaw. Once the corner of his mouth when he pauses.
“You’re still doing it,” he says.
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t stop you.
By the time everything settles, he doesn’t look as worn out anymore.
When he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your forehead, his voice is quieter.
“Thank you, baby.”
You just lean into him and kiss him again, quick this time.
The apartment is quiet when Suguru gets home. The door clicks shut, and it’s the only sound for a second.
You don’t really think about it—you just get up and walk straight to him.
“There you are,” you say, grabbing onto his sleeves like you need to make sure he’s actually there. “You’re late, baby.”
He looks tired. Not overly dramatic about it, just… heavy. Like the day stuck to him. But he still gives you that small smile. “Work ran longer than expected.”
“I don’t like that,” you mumble, already pulling him down a little so you can reach him better.
And then you just start kissing him.
His cheek first. Then again. Then his jaw. It’s not planned—you just keep going like you missed him more than you thought.
“Baby,” you say against his skin, “you worked too much today.”
He lets out a quiet breath. “This is your solution, baby?”
“Yes.”
You don’t hesitate. You hold his face and kiss him properly this time, slower. When you pull back, you just kiss his nose right after like it’s nothing.
“You’re a lot,” he says, but his hands are already on your waist.
“And you love it.”
“I manage it,” he mutters.
“Same thing,” you say, kissing him again, a little longer just to prove it.
He exhales and pulls you closer. “You’re clingy today, baby.”
“I’m always clingy,” you say, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re gone all day. I’m allowed.”
He rests his chin on your head for a second. “I was working, not disappearing.”
“Still gone.”
You pull back and look at him properly this time. He looks tired in a way you don’t like, and it makes you go a little quieter.
“Sit,” you say, nudging him toward the couch.
He gives you a look but sits anyway. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing dramatic,” you say, standing behind him.
You put your hands on his shoulders and press a little. He tenses at first, then kind of melts into it after a second.
“You’re really stiff,” you say.
“Not surprising.”
“Mm.”
You keep going, trying to work out the knots. You’re not even that good at this, but he doesn’t complain. Every now and then, you lean down and kiss his head or the side of his face without really thinking about it.
“Feels nice,” he says quietly.
“Good,” you mumble. “That’s the point.”
After a bit, you tap his shoulder. “Okay, get up.”
He barely opens his eyes. “Why?”
“Bath. Come on.”
He sighs like he’s too tired to argue. “You’re doing a lot tonight, princess.”
“I know.”
You take his hand and pull him to the bathroom. The room fills with steam pretty fast, and when he gets in, he just kind of sinks into the water like he’s been waiting for it all day.
You sit next to the tub, brushing his hair back from his face.
“Relax, baby,” you say, leaning down to kiss his temple.
He looks up at you, softer now. “You’re taking care of me.”
“Yeah,” you say, a little quieter this time. Then you kiss him again, slower.
You help wash his hair, fingers running through it, not rushing anything. It’s quiet, but not awkward. Just calm.
When he gets out, he looks a little better. Not completely, but enough.
You hand him some clothes and nod toward the table. “I made food.”
He pauses. “You cooked?”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
He looks at you for a second, then back at the food. “You didn’t have to do all this, baby.”
“I wanted to.”
He walks over instead of sitting right away and touches your face, his thumb brushing your cheek.
“You’re good to me,” he says.
You shrug a little. “Just eat.”
“Bossy,” he mutters, but there’s no real attitude in it.
You stay close while he eats, leaning against him, kissing his cheek every now and then just because you feel like it. Sometimes his jaw. Once the corner of his mouth when he pauses.
“You’re still doing it,” he says.
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t stop you.
By the time everything settles, he doesn’t look as worn out anymore.
When he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your forehead, his voice is quieter.
“Thank you, baby.”
You just lean into him and kiss him again, quick this time.
At first, you thought it was cute. He always wanted to be near you—following you to the kitchen, sitting way too close on the couch, resting his head on your shoulder while you tried to do homework, even standing outside the bathroom door just to keep talking.
“Choso,” you laughed one day, trying to shut the bathroom door, “I promise I’ll survive five minutes without you.”
“I know,” he said calmly, leaning against the wall. “I just prefer being near you.”
That was sweet… for a while.
But lately, it felt like too much.
Every second, he needed your attention.
If you were texting someone, he’d quietly ask, “Who’s that?”
If you said you wanted alone time, he’d frown like you had stabbed him.
If you got up to grab water, somehow he was right behind you.
It started making you feel crowded.
That afternoon, you were already stressed. School had been annoying, your head hurt, and all you wanted was to sit in silence for ten minutes.
You dropped your bag by the couch and sat down with a sigh.
Finally.
Peace.
For about thirty seconds.
Then Choso walked in and immediately sat beside you—close enough that your legs touched. He gently leaned against you.
“You seem tired,” he said softly.
“I am.”
He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.
You closed your eyes, trying to stay calm.
Then he asked, “Do you want me to make tea?”
“No.”
“Food?”
“No, Choso.”
“Did someone upset you? You can tell me.”
You took a deep breath.
“I’m fine.”
He stayed quiet for maybe ten seconds before softly saying, “Are you sure?”
That was it.
You snapped.
“Choso, can you please just leave me alone for once?!”
The room went completely silent.
His head slowly lifted from your shoulder.
He blinked at you like he didn’t understand what you said.
You were breathing hard now, frustrated words spilling out before you could stop them.
“You’re always here. Always asking questions, always following me around—I can’t breathe sometimes! I just wanted a little space!”
His face changed.
It was small, but you saw it.
That hurt.
Choso sat there quietly, staring at the floor.
“Oh,” he said softly.
That one word made your stomach drop.
“I didn’t know I was bothering you that much.”
“Choso, I—”
“No, it’s okay.”
But it didn’t sound okay.
His voice was too quiet.
He stood up slowly, avoiding your eyes.
“I’m sorry for being annoying.”
“You’re not annoying, I just—”
But he was already walking away.
You heard the bedroom door close.
Then silence.
Real silence.
And suddenly, it felt awful.
You sat there staring at the wall, replaying everything you said.
Too harsh.
Way too harsh.
You didn’t mean it like that.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Still no Choso.
No quiet footsteps.
No checking on you.
No him.
The apartment felt weird without him.
You walked to the bedroom door and stood there for a second.
You knocked softly.
“Choso?”
No answer.
You opened the door a little.
He was sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, staring at nothing.
His eyes were a little red.
That made your chest hurt.
“Can I come in?”
He shrugged without looking at you.
Not exactly welcoming, but not a no.
You walked in slowly and sat on the edge of the bed.
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
Then you spoke quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
Nothing.
You looked down at your hands.
“I was stressed, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.”
Still nothing.
He finally said, very quietly, “You meant it.”
You swallowed.
“Not like that.”
“But you said it.”
His voice cracked just a little, and it made you feel worse.
“You said you can’t breathe because of me.”
“I know,” you whispered. “And I hate that I said it like that.”
He finally looked at you.
His eyes were sad. Hurt.
“I just like being with you.”
“I know.”
“I’m not good at… distance.”
“I know that too.”
He looked away again.
“I thought if I stayed close, you’d know I care.”
You moved a little closer.
“I do know. I know you care. I love that you care.”
“Then why did it sound like you hated it?”
“Because I was overwhelmed and instead of talking to you, I exploded. And that was wrong.”
He stayed quiet.
You reached for his hand carefully.
At first, he let it sit there.
Then after a second, he held yours back.
Small progress.
“I don’t want you to stop loving me like that,” you said. “I just need to be better at telling you when I need space. And I should’ve said it kindly instead of hurting you.”
He was quiet.
Then he asked, “So… you’re not tired of me?”
You almost cried.
“No, Choso. Never.”
His grip tightened.
“I really thought you were.”
“I’m sorry.”
Another long silence.
Then he sighed.
“I was trying not to cry.”
You blinked. “Trying?”
“I failed.”
That made you smile a little.
“I noticed.”
He gave you a small, offended look.
“That’s embarrassing.”
“You’re still cute.”
“I’m still upset.”
“I know.”
“You were very mean.”
“I know.”
“You should spoil me for at least a week.”
You nodded seriously. “That’s fair.”
“And let me cling to you.”
You smiled a little. “Reasonable.”
“But,” he added, softer now, “I’ll try to listen better when you need space.”
Your heart softened.
“And I’ll communicate like a normal person instead of yelling.”
“Good.”
You moved closer until you were leaning against him this time.
After a second, he wrapped his arms around you automatically, like muscle memory.
Safe.
Warm.
Home.
“I’m really sorry,” you whispered again.
He rested his chin on your head.
“I know.”
You tilted your head up to look at him.
“You forgive me?”
He waited dramatically, making you nervous.
Then finally—
“Yes. But only because I love you.”
Your chest ached at how soft he looked saying it.
Without thinking too much, you leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
For a second, he froze.
Then he melted.
His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go again. The kiss was soft, slow, and full of everything both of you had been trying to say.
Sorry.
I love you.
Please stay.
When you kissed him again, a little deeper this time, Choso let out the softest whimper against your lips, quiet and needy, like he’d been holding everything in for hours.
It made your heart completely give in.
You pulled back just enough to smile.
“There you are.”
His face turned red almost instantly.
“Don’t say that.”
“You whimpered.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
He looked away, embarrassed.
“That was private.”
You laughed softly and kissed his cheek this time.
“Still cute.”
He mumbled something into your shoulder that sounded a lot like, “I regret forgiving you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“…No, I don’t.”
You smiled into his chest.
“Good. Because I love you too.”
He held you tighter.
“And next time,” he mumbled, “just tell me you need space before emotionally destroying me.”
At first, you thought it was cute. He always wanted to be near you—following you to the kitchen, sitting way too close on the couch, resting his head on your shoulder while you tried to do homework, even standing outside the bathroom door just to keep talking.
“Choso,” you laughed one day, trying to shut the bathroom door, “I promise I’ll survive five minutes without you.”
“I know,” he said calmly, leaning against the wall. “I just prefer being near you.”
That was sweet… for a while.
But lately, it felt like too much.
Every second, he needed your attention.
If you were texting someone, he’d quietly ask, “Who’s that?”
If you said you wanted alone time, he’d frown like you had stabbed him.
If you got up to grab water, somehow he was right behind you.
It started making you feel crowded.
That afternoon, you were already stressed. School had been annoying, your head hurt, and all you wanted was to sit in silence for ten minutes.
You dropped your bag by the couch and sat down with a sigh.
Finally.
Peace.
For about thirty seconds.
Then Choso walked in and immediately sat beside you—close enough that your legs touched. He gently leaned against you.
“You seem tired,” he said softly.
“I am.”
He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.
You closed your eyes, trying to stay calm.
Then he asked, “Do you want me to make tea?”
“No.”
“Food?”
“No, Choso.”
“Did someone upset you? You can tell me.”
You took a deep breath.
“I’m fine.”
He stayed quiet for maybe ten seconds before softly saying, “Are you sure?”
That was it.
You snapped.
“Choso, can you please just leave me alone for once?!”
The room went completely silent.
His head slowly lifted from your shoulder.
He blinked at you like he didn’t understand what you said.
You were breathing hard now, frustrated words spilling out before you could stop them.
“You’re always here. Always asking questions, always following me around—I can’t breathe sometimes! I just wanted a little space!”
His face changed.
It was small, but you saw it.
That hurt.
Choso sat there quietly, staring at the floor.
“Oh,” he said softly.
That one word made your stomach drop.
“I didn’t know I was bothering you that much.”
“Choso, I—”
“No, it’s okay.”
But it didn’t sound okay.
His voice was too quiet.
He stood up slowly, avoiding your eyes.
“I’m sorry for being annoying.”
“You’re not annoying, I just—”
But he was already walking away.
You heard the bedroom door close.
Then silence.
Real silence.
And suddenly, it felt awful.
You sat there staring at the wall, replaying everything you said.
Too harsh.
Way too harsh.
You didn’t mean it like that.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Still no Choso.
No quiet footsteps.
No checking on you.
No him.
The apartment felt weird without him.
You walked to the bedroom door and stood there for a second.
You knocked softly.
“Choso?”
No answer.
You opened the door a little.
He was sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, staring at nothing.
His eyes were a little red.
That made your chest hurt.
“Can I come in?”
He shrugged without looking at you.
Not exactly welcoming, but not a no.
You walked in slowly and sat on the edge of the bed.
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
Then you spoke quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
Nothing.
You looked down at your hands.
“I was stressed, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.”
Still nothing.
He finally said, very quietly, “You meant it.”
You swallowed.
“Not like that.”
“But you said it.”
His voice cracked just a little, and it made you feel worse.
“You said you can’t breathe because of me.”
“I know,” you whispered. “And I hate that I said it like that.”
He finally looked at you.
His eyes were sad. Hurt.
“I just like being with you.”
“I know.”
“I’m not good at… distance.”
“I know that too.”
He looked away again.
“I thought if I stayed close, you’d know I care.”
You moved a little closer.
“I do know. I know you care. I love that you care.”
“Then why did it sound like you hated it?”
“Because I was overwhelmed and instead of talking to you, I exploded. And that was wrong.”
He stayed quiet.
You reached for his hand carefully.
At first, he let it sit there.
Then after a second, he held yours back.
Small progress.
“I don’t want you to stop loving me like that,” you said. “I just need to be better at telling you when I need space. And I should’ve said it kindly instead of hurting you.”
He was quiet.
Then he asked, “So… you’re not tired of me?”
You almost cried.
“No, Choso. Never.”
His grip tightened.
“I really thought you were.”
“I’m sorry.”
Another long silence.
Then he sighed.
“I was trying not to cry.”
You blinked. “Trying?”
“I failed.”
That made you smile a little.
“I noticed.”
He gave you a small, offended look.
“That’s embarrassing.”
“You’re still cute.”
“I’m still upset.”
“I know.”
“You were very mean.”
“I know.”
“You should spoil me for at least a week.”
You nodded seriously. “That’s fair.”
“And let me cling to you.”
You smiled a little. “Reasonable.”
“But,” he added, softer now, “I’ll try to listen better when you need space.”
Your heart softened.
“And I’ll communicate like a normal person instead of yelling.”
“Good.”
You moved closer until you were leaning against him this time.
After a second, he wrapped his arms around you automatically, like muscle memory.
Safe.
Warm.
Home.
“I’m really sorry,” you whispered again.
He rested his chin on your head.
“I know.”
You tilted your head up to look at him.
“You forgive me?”
He waited dramatically, making you nervous.
Then finally—
“Yes. But only because I love you.”
Your chest ached at how soft he looked saying it.
Without thinking too much, you leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
For a second, he froze.
Then he melted.
His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go again. The kiss was soft, slow, and full of everything both of you had been trying to say.
Sorry.
I love you.
Please stay.
When you kissed him again, a little deeper this time, Choso let out the softest whimper against your lips, quiet and needy, like he’d been holding everything in for hours.
It made your heart completely give in.
You pulled back just enough to smile.
“There you are.”
His face turned red almost instantly.
“Don’t say that.”
“You whimpered.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
He looked away, embarrassed.
“That was private.”
You laughed softly and kissed his cheek this time.
“Still cute.”
He mumbled something into your shoulder that sounded a lot like, “I regret forgiving you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“…No, I don’t.”
You smiled into his chest.
“Good. Because I love you too.”
He held you tighter.
“And next time,” he mumbled, “just tell me you need space before emotionally destroying me.”
The soft hum of your desk lamp filled the space as you sat curled up on your bed, knees tucked to your chest, phone resting in your hands. You weren’t even really doing anything on it—just scrolling mindlessly, rereading old messages you shouldn’t be rereading.
His messages.
Your stomach twisted.
You hadn’t answered him all day.
Not because you didn’t want to.
But because you did.
Too much, maybe.
Every time his name lit up your screen, your chest tightened. You’d type something out, erase it, overthink it, panic, then lock your phone like that would somehow solve everything.y
It didn’t.
It just made things worse.
Your phone buzzed again.
You froze.
You already knew who it was.
Slowly, nervously, you looked down.
Sukuna:Â You alive?
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.
You typed:Â yeah
Then erased it.
Then typed: sorry I’ve just been busy
Erased that too.
Another buzz.
Sukuna: Don’t ignore me.
Your heart started beating faster.
You swallowed hard, your thumb trembling slightly as you locked your phone again, pressing it against your chest like you could quiet everything inside you.
“I’ll answer later…” you whispered to yourself.
You didn’t.
Minutes passed.
Then another buzz.
You squeezed your eyes shut before even checking it this time—but you did anyway.
Sukuna:Â Come outside. Now.
Your breath caught.
Outside?
Now?
Your gaze flickered toward the window, the dark campus stretching out beyond it, lit by scattered streetlights.
Your heart started racing for a completely different reason.
You sat there for a full minute, frozen.
Then:
You:Â why?
The reply came almost instantly.
Sukuna: Don’t make me come get you.
Your stomach dropped.
He would.
You knew he would.
And somehow, that made everything worse—and better—at the same time.
You stood up too quickly, nearly knocking your chair over. Your hands moved on their own, grabbing your hoodie, pulling it over your head, sleeves covering your fingers like armor.
“Okay… okay…” you muttered under your breath, trying to steady your breathing. “Just go outside. It’s fine.”
It didn’t feel fine.
Nothing about this felt fine.
By the time you made it down the hallway and out of the dorm building, your heart was pounding so loud you were sure it was audible.
The night air hit your face, cool and sharp.
And there he was.
Leaning against a car like he owned the entire campus, phone in hand, expression already edged with irritation.
The moment he saw you, he straightened.
“There you are,” he said.
Your steps slowed.
“…hi.”
Too quiet.
Too small.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he took you in—your hunched posture, your covered hands, the way you wouldn’t look at him.
That familiar tension snapped into place.
“What’s your problem?” he asked bluntly, pushing off the car.
Your chest tightened instantly.
“I don’t have a problem…”
“You do,” he said, walking toward you. “Because you’ve been ignoring me all day.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you, I just—”
“Don’t lie.” His voice sharpened. “I can see when you read my messages.”
You froze.
“…I didn’t know what to say,” you admitted quietly.
“That’s not an excuse,” he shot back. “Since when do you not know how to talk to me?”
“I always know how to talk to you,” you said, voice trembling. “I just… didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”
“And instead you said nothing?” he snapped.
You flinched.
“I-I thought you were mad at me,” you rushed out, words starting to trip over each other. “And I didn’t want to make it worse and I didn’t know how to fix it and—”
“Mad at you?” he cut in, brows pulling together. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“I don’t know!” Your voice cracked, panic rising. “That’s why I didn’t text you, I thought if I said something wrong you’d actually get mad and then—”
“Then what?” he pressed, stepping closer.
you backed up slightly without meaning to.
“I don’t know…” you whispered, your breathing uneven now.
“Look at me,” he said.
You couldn’t.
Your eyes stayed locked on the ground.
“I said look at me.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“I can’t…” you murmured.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll mess it up,” you said, voice breaking. “I always mess things up when I’m nervous and then you’ll get annoyed and I just—”
Your words dissolved completely as your breathing hitched.
You felt it coming.
You tried to stop it.
But the tears came anyway.
“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, voice shaking. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I just didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want you to hate me and—”
Your voice broke completely.
Silence dropped hard between you.
Sukuna froze.
“…shit.”
All the irritation drained from his face instantly, replaced by something else—something caught off guard.
“Hey—” His voice lowered immediately. “Hey, no, don’t—”
You turned your face away, trying to hide it, your hands coming up to cover your face as your shoulders shook slightly.
“I didn’t mean to—” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it…”
He stepped closer again, slower this time, more careful.
“Hey,” he tried again, softer now. “C’mere baby.”
You didn’t move.
So he did.
His hand gently wrapped around your wrist, tugging just enough to bring you closer—not forceful, just steady.
When you didn’t pull away, he pulled you into him, one arm coming around your shoulders.
It wasn’t perfect.
A little awkward.
But careful.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said quietly, his voice right above your head now. “I was just… annoyed. That’s it.”
You clutched lightly at his shirt, your voice barely there. “I’m sorry…”
“Stop apologizing princess,” he said immediately. “You didn’t do anything that bad.”
“I ignored you…”
“Yeah, and I came at you too hard,” he admitted. “So we’re even.”
You let out a small, shaky breath.
He shifted slightly, one hand coming up to awkwardly wipe at your cheek.
“You’re really sensitive,” he muttered—not harsh, just… noticing.
You nodded faintly against him.
“…I know.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“Yeah. I can tell.”
There was a pause.
Then he gently tilted your chin up, giving you time—waiting.
This time, you managed to look at him.
Your eyes were still wet, lashes clumped slightly, expression soft and fragile.
“…I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore,” you admitted.
He blinked.
“…what?”
“I thought you were getting tired of me,” you whispered.
He stared at you for a second—then let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff.
“You avoided me… because you thought I was avoiding you?”
You nodded a little, embarrassed.
“…yeah.”
He shook his head slightly.
“That’s…” He huffed. “That’s actually insane.”
Your face fell slightly.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’m not saying it like that,” he cut in quickly, softer now. “I just—” He paused, then sighed. “You’re overthinking everything.”
“…I know.”
Another quiet moment passed.
Then he nodded toward his car.
“Come on.”
“…where?”
“Out.”
You hesitated. “…like… now?”
“Yes, now.”
“…okay.”
—
You ended up sitting on the hood of his car in a quiet, empty parking lot, far from the dorms, far from everything loud and overwhelming.
The sky stretched endlessly above you, scattered with stars.
A paper bag sat between you.
Sukuna handed you a burger.
“Eat.”
You blinked. “…you brought food?”
“Obviously.”
“…for me?”
He gave you a look. “No, I brought extra for decoration.”
You gave a tiny, shy smile.
“…thank you.”
You ate slowly, still a little sniffly, your emotions settling bit by bit.
After a while, you leaned back slightly, looking up.
“It’s really pretty…”
“Yeah,” he said—but he was looking at you, not the sky.
You didn’t notice.
Your fingers fidgeted with the wrapper again.
“I really wasn’t trying to ignore you,” you said softly. “I just get scared I’ll say something wrong.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“…you don’t have to do that with me,” he said.
“I know… I just can’t help it sometimes.”
“…then tell me that,” he replied. “Don’t disappear.”
You nodded. “…okay.”
A small silence settled—comfortable this time.
Gentle.
He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly under your eye.
“You okay now?” he asked quietly.
“…yeah.”
“You sure?”
You nodded again.
He studied your face for a moment—then leaned in slowly, giving you time.
You didn’t pull away.
Your breath caught softly as his lips met yours—gentle, steady, nothing like the intensity from earlier.
It felt safe.
Warm.
When he pulled back, he stayed close, his voice low.
“…next time, just answer me.”
You gave a small, shy nod.
“…I will.”
His hand found yours again, fingers lacing together.
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