apple pie by Lizzy came on shuffle and I thought of way out there :( I miss my people
APPLE PIE AND ME HAVE LORE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i miss way out there so bad too and i really do want to properly go back through it and fix the issues that seemed too glaring to me 🥹 im so glad you still think of them (just as i think, quite frequently, of drunk running suguru and reader 🩷)
The cicadas were deafeningly loud, the buzz seemingly amplified the already sweltering heat. You were sat outside, on the steps of your courtyard. Your bare legs stretched out in the sun, feeling the heat of its rays beat down onto your skin.
“Hey… come into the shade before you get sunburned idiot—“ muttered your husband, who was tending to the plants that lined against the back wall that circled your countryside home. A large tree draped over low, its lush green leaves shook and danced in the cool breeze. You got up and padded towards him, his back bare, tattoos shifting with each movement.
Sukuna unfolded to his full height and turned to you as you met him in the narrow patch of shade he'd carved out around himself. His gaze traveled over you-over the linen set rumpled from you messing around in the sunshine-and something in his expression tightened, not quite anger, not quite worry, but a clear decision.
He peeled his glove off and, without asking, tugged you close by your waistband. Your body bumped into his, the contact sudden enough to make you forget what you'd been about to say.
“It's sweltering hot,” he said, voice low and edged with impatience that was really just concern. “Yet you scramble around in the sun-“ “Well, yeah,” you said softly, your voice turning a little hazy with the truth of it. “It’s nice. I missed the summer heat.”
Sukuna’s eyebrow lifted, slow and unimpressed, like he was weighing you for the millionth time and still finding you strange—in the way he’d never admit out loud. “Always were such an odd woman,” he said, peeling the rest of his glove off. “Liking the heat this much.”
Before you could tease him back, his hands slid around your waist and he pulled you in close—then, with effortless strength, lifted you and carried you to the small bench beneath the shade.
The bench had been his idea from the start, built for you to sit pretty and comfortable, with a stack of books nearby and the garden within reach. He set you down carefully, like he wanted you to feel the thought in every inch of it, and the moment you were settled, he stepped back just enough to look at you properly.
“Stay out of the sun,” he said, firm again, but his tone had shifted—less grumbling, more protective. “If you insist on enjoying the heat, do it here, where I can see you.”
He huffed, the sound more irritated than he intended, and walked back to the pretty flowers he cultivated. Every step of his had that familiar rhythm—like he could be annoyed and still be exactly where he belonged, tending to the life you both kept together out here.
You crossed your legs and leaned back, letting your spine rest against the cool wall. The shade brushed over you in gentle patches, and you fanned yourself with slow, deliberate motions.
His back pocket started to ring—soft at first, then louder as the melody cut through the quiet hum of the garden. He huffed, annoyed that the world had the audacity to interrupt him, and pulled his phone out to check it.
He answered with a gruff mumble, one hand turning the screen a little while his other stayed at his side like he didn’t want to stop working. Then his jaw tightened. When he hung up, he stood back up—still in the shade, but suddenly all business again.
Your eyes tracked him without meaning to, watching the way his expression shifted as he stepped away. He grumbled something incoherent under his breath and stomped off into your home.
A moment later, he returned through the doorway and stopped in front of you. The heat was still there, but his presence made the shade feel smaller—closer—like he didn’t want anything to slip too far from his reach.
“That was Toji,” he said, voice rough. “The idiot needs me at the shop.” His gaze flicked over the flowers, the tools, then back to you—like he was already deciding what you’d need and what you’d pretend you didn’t. “Think you can handle finishing the gardening?”
You nodded, rising quickly to your feet “Of course!” you said, bright and eager. “How long will you be gone?”
“An hour at the most,” he replied, already moving on from the conversation like he didn’t like lingering in softness.
Before he stepped away, he tugged the green work apron off himself—work-worn and smelling faintly like garden soil—and placed it on you. The weight of it settled over your shoulders with a satisfying kind of warmth.
You smiled gleefully. “Thank you,” you said, and then—because you couldn’t help it—you waved as he headed back into the house.
When the door closed, the yard went quieter again. The breeze picked up through the low leaves, and the sunlight glittered just beyond the edge of the shade.
You turned to the rows of beautiful flowers and herbs—neat lines that only existed because you’d begged him to plant them the first time you learned to cook. You rolled up your sleeves, settled your focus, and got to work.
A few hours passed without him, the muggy air slowly cooling as the sun dipped low. Out beyond the garden, crickets started up their steady song, and the air grew gentle—less heavy, more kind.
You were halfway through digging, sleeves rolled and focus narrowed, when you decided the gloves were unnecessary and itchy. You peeled them off and went back to the soil with bare hands, letting the texture ground you. Somewhere in your throat, a soft tune kept humming—quiet, content, like you could make the whole day behave if you worked hard enough.
You grabbed a pair of scissors and started trimming and tugging at stubborn weeds. The task was meditative until—
A sharp sting laced through your palm.
You froze, the humming abruptly stumbling, and stared down like you couldn’t quite believe what you’d done. Blood welled up quickly, warm against your skin, pooling where it shouldn’t be. A breath caught in your chest. Tears stung at your eyes before you could swallow them back.
“Of course,” you whispered, voice trembling with frustration and hurt. “I’m such a—” You couldn’t finish the sentence. Your gaze flicked between the red in your hand and the innocent rows of flowers as if the garden had betrayed you. You sat back on your heels, clutching your palm with your other hand and blinking hard, trying to stop the tears from spilling while the sting throbbed in slow waves.
You rocked back and forth, trying to press the panic down with the steady rocking motion of your body. The tears finally slipped passed your lashes—hot and helpless. You sniffled into your sleeve, staring at your bloodied palm like it was the only thing that made sense in that moment.
The courtyard was silent except for the crickets… until the sound of the door opened.
Footsteps hit the ground with a heavy, familiar rhythm—large, unhurried only when he chose to be. Now they were all impatience. The door shut behind him with a sharp finality, and his voice carried straight into the air, grumbling angry complaints.
“That idiot Toji called me over—” you heard him snap, the words rumbling with irritation. “After nearly blowing up a client’s car at the shop—”
His pace slowed somewhere near you and the garden.
The moment you looked up, you could tell he’d come home ready to fight the whole world—until his gaze landed on you, on the tears, on your hand. His grumble died mid-sentence.
His frown shifted—fast. The anger fell away like it had never been there, replaced by worry sharp enough to cut through the crickets calming hum. His whole body tensed when he saw you sitting there, teary and unevenly breathing, and the sound of his anger finally broke into something else.
He rushed in, helping you up with more force than he probably meant to. His hands came to your shoulders, firm and urgent. For a second it felt like he could hold you together just by gripping you.
“Hey—“
“What happened?” he demanded, voice tight. “Let me see—”
He tugged gently at first, then more roughly—panic making him impatient with the world—and guided you closer so he could inspect your palm.
His gaze dropped to the cut and darkened with concern, his jaw going rigid as he took in the blood. He didn’t look away. He didn’t scold you, not yet.
“Hey,” he said again, softer this time—quieter than the crickets, gentler than his earlier anger. One hand stayed steady at your shoulder while the other hovered in the air, uncertain, as if he was afraid a single wrong movement would make it hurt more.
He looked into your eyes, really looked—until you couldn’t look away either. His bloody-red irises caught the failing light, mirroring the dried patches of blood on your serrated palm. His expression tightened with worry,“Okay,” he murmured, voice rough. “Okay. I’m going to fix this.”
Slowly, carefully, he guided your hand toward him, bracing it so you wouldn’t have to hold it up alone. “Does it throb?” he asked, eyes flicking down to the cut. “Is it just bleeding, or does it feel deep?”
“It’s throbbing—” you said, between soft sniffles, trying to breathe through the sting. “And it’s bleeding a lot…”
He exhaled hard, like that admission finally turned his worry into action. His expression tightened again—this time with determination.
“C’mon,” he said, voice low and gruff.
He guided you inside and sat you down on the dining table with a careful firmness that didn’t give you room to argue. The house smelled faintly of evening cooking and old wood, and the kitchen light made everything look too bright for how close to tears you still were.
Then he moved, quick and steady, towards the kitchen, and grabbed the first-aid kit. Your eyes followed his broad back as he walked away, your chest still fluttering with fear and embarrassment and pain all tangled together. He wore a simple black t-shirt, shoulders tense, the shape of him steady even when his worry clearly wasn’t.
“Stay there,” he called without turning back. “Don’t move that hand—“
You waited, forcing yourself to stay still as the house settled around you. The dining table was cool beneath you, grounding in a way that felt almost unfair while your palm throbbed.
When he came back, his voice dropped to a whisper.
“Open.”
You slowly unfolded your bloodied palm, wincing as the sting flared up along your hand and into your forearm. He didn’t react like it was gross or inconvenient—he reacted like it mattered, because you did, and seeing you hurt in anyway made his heart ache. He would never tell you that of course, but you could tell by his actions.
He grabbed a wet paper towel and started to clean the blood away with careful, gentle pressure, like he was trying to take the pain away piece by piece without making it worse.
“How’d this happen?” he asked, pink locks a messy curtain around his face. His eyes stayed locked on your palm, steady and intent, but his voice carried that edge of alarm.
He paused just long enough to wipe away a final smear, then looked up at you for half a second. “Don’t stay quiet now—“ your cheeks were burning with utter embarrassment, “can’t leave you alone for a few hours can I?” He said with a sigh as he applied cool ointment to your skin and started wrapping it.
His hands were big. Calloused in all the ways that came from real work—and yet the moment they touched you, everything about him changed. He was gentle. Careful. Patient.
He adjusted the wrap with precision, as if your pain were delicate, as if you were made of something worth protecting.
And it did something to you—something inconvenient and sweet. Your heart throbbed and jumped at every small motion, the way he steadied your wrist, the way he pressed just enough to keep the bandage in place, the way his attention never wavered from what mattered.
You couldn’t help it. You felt it, deep and undeniable.
Something as simple as his touch made you fall a fraction deeper in love with your husband.
He finished up with the last careful adjustment, then pulled back just enough to look at you fully—like he needed to confirm you were okay. “You aren’t going near anything sharp,” he said, voice firm, eyes staring deep into yours. “Got that?”
You nodded quickly, too quick, like speed could make him less worried. The bandage sat against your palm, warm where his hands had just been.
He huffed, turning his head as if to go back to being annoyed—until, You grabbed him by his collar and tugged him in.
A quick kiss. Right there, in the kitchen light, soft but decisive, stealing the words out of his mouth. When you pulled back, his expression had gone a little stunned, ears warming, the worry in his face flaring into something gentler.
“—Hey,” he muttered, like he was trying to remember how to talk while your mouth was still lingering near his.
You giggled softly, cheeks warm as embarrassment collided with affection. “Thank you,” you whispered, and pressed your lips to his again, quick at first, then firmer when you felt how tense he was trying not to show how affected he was.
His arms tightened around your waist. Not gently, protective, yes, but with an edge to it. Like he needed you close because you made him weak and he hated that you knew it.
“Mmph—mm,” he grunted against your mouth, the noise sounded annoyed yet pleased at the same time.
“Don’t get cute,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with that deep devotion. “You cut yourself. You stay away from the garden and my garden scissors, or your doing my chores plus yours and you’ll thank me whether you want to or not.”
Then, like he couldn’t help himself, he kissed you again—longer this time. His hands braced you as if you were something he could lose at any moment. You pulled away, quietly admiring his face,
“Yeah,” he said, voice low and mean in the way that was really just love wrapped in fanged teeth. “Yeah… that’s right. Keep quiet and kiss me.”
“I love you-“ you whispered, a small smile plastered on your face.
“…I love you too-“ he muttered back, voice laced with utter devotion.
A/N: have this quick write while I try to get the next chapter for my nightwing fic down, which btw it still needs a name… and I lowkirkgenuinely suck at writing for Sukuna but fuck it we ball- also thank you so so much @epicderpface for the idea!! Ur literally a life saver 🛟
꒰impatient꒱ husband!nanami almost missed his son's birth
꩜ angst to fluff; comfort. art by @/mamitasoa7x0312
Nanami's heart beat louder than it ever had as he drove to you.
Ignoring every traffic light and speed limit. This wasn't like him, but he could feel bad about it later. Right now, there was only thing he had to do – get to you.
As fast as he fucking could.
Were you scared? Were you in pain?
Of course you were in pain.
And he wasn't there.
His foot slammed the accelerator again, the hospital building finally coming into view up ahead.
It wasn't meant to happen this early, he was caught off guard at work – but as soon as your anxious voice reached him from the phone and tried to explain that your water had broke, he left the office without a word. Later he'd notice the missed calls from his boss, but again – he didn't care.
Everything was out the window the minute you needed him.
You were in pain. You were having his baby.
What was supposed to be a joyous moment shared by the two of you, now meant nothing but fear from both sides.
Another traffic light ignored, but it was finally the last one.
The nurse must have thought he was losing his mind when he reached the front desk, giving her your name through ragged breaths. "Mr. Nanami?" she tried to confirm, and he only managed an exhausted nod.
His hair was a mess, tie undone, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. But when the nurse finally showed him the way, Nanami followed close, almost overtaking her as if this was a race.
And finally, the sterile hospital corridor led to a door, and the door led to you.
Looking as sweaty as he was, holding your swollen belly with two hands, face twisting in pain.
But when you saw him, something visibly changed – your breathing hitched, your shoulders dropped, and the pain gave way to a smile. One the two of you desperately needed.
"Ken?" you whispered, tears already slipping through your beautiful cheeks.
"I'm here" he rushed to your side, sitting next to your bed and placing both hands on top of yours. On your stomach, near your son. "I am so sorry, my love" he took one to kiss your knuckles, the other gently rubbing your skin, small circles he hoped might settle the two of you.
"I'm so happy you're here" you cried, interlocking your fingers with his, the golden wedding band glistening in the cold overhead light.
"What did the doctors say? Do you need anything? Water? How bad is the pain? Is he ok?" Nanami wasn't even sure what he was saying, just going through the practicals first. As if you knew it was the only way to help him relax, you let out a soft giggle.
"Everything is fine" you reassured, looking down at your stomach and the person you had been waiting months to meet.
Nanami followed your gaze, taking his eyes from you for the first time. He brought his body forwards a little, leaning over to press a kiss just above your belly button. "Already impatient, just like your mother" he shook his head, finally allowing himself to relax.
"I'm not sure about that" you smiled. "Looks like he was ready and didn't want to do overtime, like someone I know"
Nanami looked up at you then, letting out a small chuckle himself. He pushed up, cupping your cheek gently. "He's perfect" he said, with a kiss to your forehead. "So I'm sure he takes after you"
In your husband's embrace, you finally began to breathe a little easier. The pain was coming and going, getting more intense with every contraction, but Nanami was right there holding your hand, rubbing your back, instructing you through breathing exercises.
His brows furrowed when you groaned, wishing he could take all the pain from you and give to himself. But he didn't let you see him so worried – Nanami was completely focused on you.
"You're doing so well" he kissed your shoulder when it hurt too much. "I love you" he whispered, as you almost broke his hand with how hard you squeezed it.
Nanami didn't care about anything else in the world right now, just his two favourite people. The one in his arms, and the one he was about to meet.
rugged and mellowed @dallsegno
Summary: None
Warnings: None
Special Tag: Jpop AU
cookin' in the kitchen, then i'm in the bedroom! @angellude
Summary: the one where the king of curses is poisoned and at the first sign of his weakness, all of his servants and concubines flee. only you are left to take care of him, and though he’s still has a lot to learn about being kind, he decides to reward your efforts and loyalty.
Warnings: None
Special Tag: None
It's Raining Men @tonycries (X)
Summary: Every specimen: the hot nerd that tutors you, his punk best friend, the pink-haired frat president, the sensible history professor, the emo boy with 11 inches, the buff campus security! They have only one thing in common—bréeding you
Warnings: None
Special Tag: multi-men, college au
Kneel @reignpage (X)
Summary: abandoned at the foot of a mountain in hopes of winning the favour of the Curse King, you have to navigate life as his bride, constantly fearing death, torture, and being eaten out— up. being eaten up. definitely up.
Warnings: forced marriage
Special Tag: None
Into the Wildcat’s Den @blkkizzat (X)
Summary: None
Warnings: None
Special Tag: Hybrid AU, Multi Part
Unnamed @ryoride (X)
Summary: fucking the sanctity of marriage into his pretty wife
Warnings: None
Special Tag: None
murder, your grace? @seoyue (X)
Summary: You die completely at random and wake up in the manhwa you were reading… as the villainous wife of the Duke of the North, no less. The same woman who spent the last six months giving her husband the cold shoulder, ruining their marriage, and basically speedrunning her own execution.
Warnings: None
Special Tag: None
Unnamed @pockyum
Summary: little yuji is cold in the middle of the night, so he cuddles up next to you and kuna
Warnings: None
Special Tag: None
spring rain @revolvingsaturn
Summary: between bruised knees and spring rain, Jin Itadori hands pickup duty of his adorable Yuji over to his son's… less than adorable, heavily pierced, slightly scary uncle, Ryomen Sukuna. You’re a busy woman, dealing with one headstrong daughter is work enough- no matter how sweet she is! But when your paths cross outside the school gates, tiny backpacks in hand, who knows what you’ll be able to make time for?
Warnings: None
Special Tag: None
Unnamed @paxyfica
Summary: papa!kuna vs his pregnant waddling wife
Warnings: None
Special Tag: None
SPOILS OF WAR @yailuxe (X)
Summary: emperor!sukuna who plays favourites with his concubines, finds out that someone else is taking care of the ones he’s neglecting. a late night stroll uncovers the culprit as one of his lower ranking mistresses and he’s fuming…and maybe a little jealous too?
Warnings: None
Special Tag: None
THE KING'S WIFE @epicderpface (X)
Summary: being the wife of ryōmen sukuna, the undisputed king of curses, is a wild feat in itself, and yet you still you find yourself at a standstill with the staff of his shrine of all things to worry about. kimono’s are left strewn and unkept across your chambers, snarky smirks whisper and persist, and insubordinate glares are now practically drilled in your routine. they all detest you, and you have no fucking clue why. but, you're sure as hell going to find out—with or without your husband's help
Warnings: None
Special Tag: None
ᯓ★ This month's recommendations! I'd really love if other people could join me in this too and use the monthly mentions tag! whatever your fandoms or tastes are, boosting writers is really important.
ᯓ★ Please check out these recommendations, maybe peek at some blogs and follow some new writers today!
✧ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓
18+ husband! pantalone — ewnamored / @amourbid
he doesn't say 'i love you' but... feat. zhongli, kazuha, diluc, alhaitham, xiao, thoma, scaramouche, neuvillette, cyno — @xiaolovesu
18+ lohen's kinks — @limeiryll / @flowercanopy
diluc being affectionate with you — @ayioumz
old! zandik x reader — @minjitorre
18+ how dottore's different segments treat you — @auratux
✧ 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍
18+ your husband toru tries to knock you up! — @mimimochis
18+ nurse! reader x underground fighter! gojo — @tonycries
18+ bf! gojo can't be serious in cowgirl position — @mimimochis
✉️ྀི . . . please click on the images to read it properly + if anything is difficult to read, please let me know so i can fix it for the next time！ been a while since i made smaus so >< i missed it & making it aesthetic & any ideas, pls send in inbox ♡
track twenty-four: i want you | prev track< | setlist
three rockstars! one you!
synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens
pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna (+ rockstar!gojo!!)
content: mdni, angst and fluff, rockstar au!, complicated relationships and messy emotions, avoidant attachment, HEAVY PINING AND YEARNING, denying feelings, reader is a mess, sukuna is desperately trying to win her back lmfao, protective men, emotional hurt, not much comfort to be found in this one, therapy
a/n: art by @winterrbluess !! div by @/anitalenia
"It's always good to see you, Sukuna."
Yeah, you were pretty sure his therapist was the first person to ever say that to him.
But you kept your mouth shut, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, one leg folded on top of the other as your stare shifted from your best friend to the man he'd brought you to see.
"How's Muffin doing?" He followed it up, leaning forward with a notepad in his lap, as if he wasn't being paid to inquire about his life.
"She's fine," Sukuna gruffly responded, pulling out his phone - and opening up his photos, proudly pulling up a photo of a fluffy gray cat mid-yawn.
Sukuna. The cat dad.
It didn't make any sense.
Nothing did.
"What are you going to do with Muffin when you're on tour?" You spoke up, fiddling with your painted nails as you looked down at your lap.
It came out kind of snappy. More than you meant it to.
"I'm not going on tour."
Your head snapped up. The shield you shined just for today cracking not even two minutes in as your throat threatened to shut.
"You're going on tour," you said, clinging to it like an idiot. Because deep down, despite how much he was trying to change, it was hard not to see Sukuna as a rockstar first. Everything else second.
He went on tour after every album.
Once this one was out, he'd be gone again.
"I'm telling the label no next week," he shrugged. "I don't give a shit if they don't sign us again."
Us.
Of course he was only acknowledging the band as more than just him when he was being what? Stupidly stubborn? Selfish?
“Why the fuck would you do that?” You blanched.
“I’m not leaving you,” the stubborn asshole insisted.
No.
This wasn’t what you wanted at all. It never was.
You felt like you were going to puke, a lump forming in your throat as you blinked at him in disbelief.
"Do not put this on me," you shook your head, ignoring the way his therapist tried to speak up, to prevent your bickering before it really got started. “What about Choso? Yuki and Uruame? They’ll be-”
“You can’t seriously think I care more about them than I do about you,” Sukuna scoffed, his jaw set in a tight line as his dark stare seared into your side.
“Like you were even willing to admit you cared about me at all six months ago,” you muttered under your breath, that bitter pill still lodged in your airway no matter how many times you tried to swallow it.
“Okay, I think we should take a step back here,” the therapist managed to interrupt, loudly clearing his throat as you turned your attention out the window. Rain was falling, droplets racing down the pane as you picked at a stray thread of the couch someone else’s anxious hands had already worked undone.
You knew you should be trying harder for this.
That therapy only worked if you were willing to try.
But you’d been so stuck in all this muck, sucked down deeper the more you tried to squirm your way out of it, you couldn’t even tell which way was up anymore. Searching for any sign of familiarity when everything had already changed without you.
What if all there was for you to figure out here was that they’d left you behind?
Suguru would learn his lesson and treat his next girl better. Satoru would find someone who could return all his love.
And Sukuna would fix himself just to find out he never needed you at all.
“Do you want Sukuna to go on tour?” His therapist softly prodded you, snapping you out of your spiraling.
“I don’t know,” you defensively answered, too on edge to match his polite tone.
“How does him staying make you feel?” He questioned, and you could only shrug your shoulders.
“Don’t be like that,” Sukuna grumbled, and you shot him an annoyed glare.
You were only here because of him.
Was that not enough to see you were at least trying?
“It makes me feel irritated, I guess,” you begrudgingly admitted. “Like he’s throwing away everything he's ever given a shit about when I never asked him to.”
You wanted to be included. To be a part of his life and not a piece of furniture in it. To be there by his side when he succeeded.
Not have him give it all up just so the two of you could make each other miserable just for the slim chance you managed to work out.
"I'm not-"
"He always makes these dumbass decisions without me and just expects me to go along with whatever it is," you added, ignoring him next to you as you finally met his therapist's gaze.
He had introduced himself when you first walked in and you hadn't really paid any attention to it, a twinge of guilt seeping through at the amount of understanding behind his eyes.
"So you feel left out," he concluded, and you immediately revoked your remorse.
"No," you lied, a traitorous little huff escaping your lips.
"That's not what I'm trying to do," Sukuna argued, seeing through your shit. "I, fuck, I just want to be here for you, okay?"
You wanted to accept that.
So so so badly.
That piece of your heart that had belonged to him from the start was already trying to tug you towards him, begging you to just stop being a brat and go back to being his.
But you weren't the girl you'd been before.
Not the one who warmed his bed or waited for him after his shows or wished for a happy ending.
And you no longer knew if you'd ever be able to be the partner he needed.
Shouldn't he be with someone he wouldn't have to cancel tours for? Someone it didn't hurt him to want? Someone who wouldn't wreck the world he worked for?
"What happens when you wake up a few years from now and realize that you shouldn't have stayed? Or when we break up?" You argued, getting the awful sense it would be the last time you'd be asking either question. "You're going to resent me."
"For fucks sake, I'm not," he flat-out denied it, annoyance creeping into his harsh features at the fact he had to say it.
But it didn't make you feel better.
What were you supposed to say to make him see what you meant?
"All we've done lately is make each other's lives worse," you muttered.
Your sex tape was leaked. He assaulted your ex-boyfriend. You slept with your ex's best friend. He was cancelling his tour.
This wasn't sustainable.
God, he'd even gone and bought you a fucking apartment like the guilt of fucking Satoru was still burned into your skin.
"You have been the only light in my entire life," Sukuna half-growled, reaching across the couch to grab your hand, his calloused fingers gripping you like he needed you to believe him too.
You hated yourself for not being able to.
For thinking of all the times you'd seen him smile at someone else, or smirk up on an illuminated stage, hearing his voice calling out to an adoring crowd. Knowing that you only got the pieces of him he chose to gave you and being okay with it for so fucking long.
And because you had a habit of making every situation infinitely more terrible, you directed your attention back to the therapist who felt a lot more like a referee as you stiffly rolled your shoulders back.
"Did he tell you about my sex tape?"
The next four seconds could probably get an award for the most awkward silence imaginable, you staring at the therapist, who was looking over at Sukuna, who was surely scowling at you.
"Do you think that's seriously relevant right-
"I mean, I just wanted to know how much he already knew," you bickered back, trying to sneak your hand away from his only for him to hold on tighter.
"I would prefer if we stopped interrupting each other so we can have a more, ah, productive conversation," his therapist piped up.
Your skin was itchy.
Invisible bugs crawling over it that you were desperate to scratch and peel off, every word exchanged and sentence that sunk in just making all of it more unbearable.
Familiar indecision crippling you, twisted and contorted as you tried to resist falling into the trap of falling for Sukuna again and refusing to let yourself get hurt by him.
Were you just going to lose in the end either way?
"Do you think this, uh, sex tape is going to be an issue if you resume a relationship with Sukuna?" The therapist continued, and you at least knew the answer to that one.
"Yeah," you muttered, loathing the defeat in your voice.
"Why is that?"
Because it'll be over the day he watches what's on it?
That was it, wasn't it? What everything boiled down to?
Your own fear that if you accepted his love, he'd take it back the second he saw another side of you.
"Are you scared to say it?" His therapist unhelpfully prodded, and you had the distinct feeling of your heart being dissected. Layers of you peeled back and pried open until they were watching it beat and bleed.
"Whatever's on it, I-"
"You'll hate me," you murmured.
Oops. You guessed you interrupted him again.
"I'm not going to hate you," he insisted, and without even looking to your right, you could picture his expression. The gritted teeth, the grim stare. Eye twitching as he restrained himself from rolling them.
"I told Suguru I loved him in it," you confessed, as if that was the worst of your crimes.
Sucking on the inside of your cheek as you stared down at your bare wrist. Aware of the bracelet that had been stolen from you.
Torn away like your chance of a happily ever after.
"Sukuna," the man across from you evenly spoke, maybe sensing the tension crackling between you as your words sank in for him as he scribbled something down on the paper in his lap. "Does that change how you feel? Or-"
"It just makes me hate him more," he grumbled, and you shrunk closer to the edge of the couch. But what he said next just left you wishing you'd never shown up at all, "Makes me hate myself more too."
"Why do you think that is?"
You shouldn't be here.
You shouldn't hear this.
"Because she never would've fallen in love with him for the first place if I hadn't been such a dickhead in denial when I had her," Sukuna snapped, his raw voice threatening to crack. "It's my fault she even met him."
"You can't blame yourself for everything," his therapist tried to reassure him, but you were casting a cautious glance over to see Sukuna scratching the back of his hair with an emotion that looked a lot like shame on his face.
So distracted by how foreign it felt to see him like this, your brain didn't even realize the man across from you was speaking to you until he repeated his question.
"Is there anything you feel that you might be culpable for here too?"
A lot?
It would be a pretty long list if you started just naming off every messy thing you'd done since you decided you were done sleeping with Sukuna.
"This is a safe place where you can be honest and we'll work through it," he added, offering you a smile that actually seemed sincere.
Your lips slowly began to part, ready to just ruin it all. Put it all on the table and lose if you had to.
At least you wouldn't be in this limbo anymore.
"I had sex with Satoru," you admitted, hot tears you hadn't been expecting starting to well up before you blinked them back. "He was there in the tape too, but uh, we didn't really do anything until he showed up on vacation."
"You slept with Gojo?"
And there it was.
The rage.
You'd spent years trying to tame him, dousing him in water before his flames could turn into wildfires.
But maybe you were just fueling it.
"We were both drunk and just having fun, and I don't know, I asked him to come inside my room," you offered an explanation, not sure if it was even owed or if you were throwing gasoline on him once again.
"What the fuck?" He hissed.
You waited for him to say he was going to murder or maim Satoru, to make threats or ask what the hell were you thinking.
To ask why.
"I'm sorry," you swallowed your pride, offering a pitiful bob of your shoulders. "I know we're not together but it was still shitty of me to do."
Sukuna wasn't your boyfriend.
He'd never been your boyfriend.
But you weren't stupid enough to think that it made what happened totally fine.
Completely forgivable.
And maybe, some part of you didn't want him to forgive you.
Craved to not have to make the hard choice at all and force him to do it for you. To abandon you the way you had always suspected he would.
"Why would you-"
"It seems to me that you're trying to sabotage your relationship with Sukuna by sleeping with someone you know would upset him," the therapist hummed, and you faltered.
Physically flinched as you reflexively itched to reject it.
Yet you couldn't.
Just sitting there like an idiot and blinking back.
"You're scared of being with him."
You were.
But did he have to actually say it out loud?
You were bending over to snatch your bag from the floor rather than deal with it, ignoring both of them saying your name as you started towards the door, shoving it open and leaving rather than hear them break down all your inner thoughts.
If your head was clearer, not so clouded and stuffed full with him, you might've figured you wouldn't have made it out of the building without Sukuna catching up to you.
He grabbed your hand right as you reached the door, trying to stop you from going, but you just shook him off, stepping out into the rain as he followed suit.
“Can you please stop for a second?” Sukuna groaned, and you were once again reminded of another night you’d been shoving down.
One where you asked him if he loved you and he couldn’t answer.
“I don’t want to talk right now,” you childishly mumbled, convinced that if you do, you’d start crying, and if you crumbled, you’d let him console you.
“Then I will,” he stubbornly insisted.
The immature urge to cover your ears and pretend you couldn’t hear him was incredibly tempting, but you just paused in place, limbs threatening to tremble as the rain soaked through both of you.
"Just forget about the fucking past," he scoffed, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around practically straight into his chest. “Can't this be enough? Can't I be enough?"
"How am I supposed to forget?" You retorted, poking a finger against his annoyingly firm muscles as you tried to pull back. "You don't get it. I literally lost everything, I-"
"I lost you," he snarled. "The albums, the money, the fame, they’re nothing to me.”
Now.
Why couldn’t he have realized that a year ago and saved you both the heartbreak?
“You’re my everything, okay? What the hell do I have to do? Get on my knees for you? Carve out my fucking heart and hand it over on a silver platter?” He was rambling, raindrops clinging to his lashes as he grabbed your finger and pulled it down.
“You’re supposed to be mad at me. I fucked Satoru while you were out buying me a beautiful apartment. Shouldn’t you be like, shouting or screaming, or something?” You argued, a fresh stab of hurt joining the rest seeing the way he recoiled from you when you pointed it out.
“So what?” He tried to sound tough.
Like he didn’t care when he so clearly did.
“Maybe you should watch the sex tape,” you shrugged, struggling not to shake, to be strong enough to say everything you needed to say. “See if you still think you love me then.”
“Stop saying shit like that,” he snapped, and it just made you more sure of your suspicions. “You are sabotaging us.”
“I think I need some more space,” you mumbled, knowing he was right and still refusing to admit it.
“You’re just running away from me. And I’ll be back at home tonight wondering whose fucking arms you’re in and why they’re so much better than mine,” he accused, finally letting a hint of that anger out. You felt a tiny hint of pride, knowing that he was finally getting the full experience of what he put you through for years.
But the truth was you were running away.
Avoiding him to avoid hurting yourself any more.
You only seemed to hurt him more when you were with him anyway.
Without you, Sukuna was doing great. He’d always been perfectly fine to fend for himself.
You didn’t want to stick around for when the sentiment wore off and it struck him you were the source of all his woes.
“Don’t be an idiot. Go on tour. Be there for the band,” you added, resignation replacing your regret as you sold yourself another half-truth that you were doing what was the best for both of you.
“Come back inside so we can actually talk about it,” he said, teeth gritted.
“I can’t,” you swallowed, shaking your head.
The idea of turning around and walking back into the building was too much. Sniffling as you wiped a wet streak from your face.
“I miss being your friend, but I really don’t know how to be anything with you right now,” you confessed, pulling yourself away from him even if it felt like you were cutting some heavy invisible cord connecting your soul to his.
It was selfish.
Impulsive.
Acting like a scared child ducking under a table just from a thunderstorm, before any lightning had even struck.
But it was the truth.
You loved Sukuna.
You just didn’t want him to destroy himself by trying to love you back.
He had been enough for you.
But now you weren’t good for each other.
He didn’t follow you this time.
Didn’t trail after you when you stormed off.
Sukuna let you go.
You didn’t stop until you were several blocks away, the drizzle from earlier turned into a torrential downpour, hair soaked and sticking to your face as you struggled to contain your tears.
How the fuck were you supposed to go back to the apartment he bought you?
Go sleep in that bed or curl up under the covers when you’d be seeing that haunted hurt look on his face every time you closed your eyes?
They were right about you.
You wished you were different.
Wished you could just be okay with all of it and pretend to be totally fine moving forward instead of standing on the sidewalk completely soaked as you stifled sobs.
Someone passed by under an umbrella, their shoulder nearly knocking into you as you looked up just in time to see them snickering and snapping a photo.
Disgust coiling bright and hot and unbearable at the realization this stranger had seen you naked - and now had the audacity to laugh at you for it.
Rather than panic, you reacted on impulse, taking the phone out of the dickhead’s hand and throwing it onto the concrete before stomping on it for good measure. Glaring right back at him as you dug the base of your foot into the shattered glass as you forced the lump back down your throat.
“I think you dropped that.”
“You fucking whore-”
Yeah, you were sure people were saying worse online.
But nothing could really compare to leaving someone you loved behind because you were too fucking terrified to let them love you too.
You shut him out the way you just shut Sukuna out.
Walking without really thinking until your teeth were chattering and it hit you that you weren’t sure where you were anymore.
Déjà vu washing over you as you looked up at the stormy sky, bottom lip quivering as you pulled out your phone to call the same person you had last time.
Suguru.
a/n: not gonna be online much in the next couple days but hope you guys enjoyed this
౨ৎ experienced!sukuna x virgin f!reader
[adult boutique au] - ongoing series
❝ chasing your dreams isn't all it's cracked up to be. your apartment shakes when the train passes and eating a scoop of peanut butter and calling it girl dinner is getting depressing. when you finally manage to land a job at a store that sells sex toys, it's possibly the biggest relief of your life. there's just one issue:
you're a virgin.
you don't know the first thing about toys and you don't want your cute and flirty white-haired co-worker to know. against your better judgement, you find yourself turning to your other co-worker for lessons and learn the hard way he's just as much of an asshole in bed as he is at work. ❞
౨ৎ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. fwb but you aren't friends. slow burn romance/fast burn smut. sukuna is 23ish, reader is 24/25ish. reader is sexually reserved but confident, nerdy, and a band geek. arrogant!sukuna. mild love triangle with gojo. dom!sukuna. mild corruption. size difference. sex toys & explorations of safety in kinks. smut & piv. virginity loss. see masterlist for full cw.
౨ৎ wc ; 9.4k.
౨ৎ art ; ackshuallyvalerie
main masterlist || series masterlist || next ⪢
There comes a point where you have to wonder if you just aren’t meant to be applying for jobs. The amount of rejection emails and calls you’ve gotten is staggering, and that doesn’t even begin to touch on the amount of applications that simply haven’t gotten a reply.
‘We regret to inform you’ feels like a personal attack at this point.
Sitting outside this particular store, however, has you questioning if maybe you just aren’t cut out for work at all.
It’s not like you expected a paying gig right out the gate when you moved to the big city to chase your dream of becoming a musician, but you at least figured you would be able to get something that pays in the meantime.
At this point, every rejection is a shot straight to the heart.
You applied to every store you could find with a hiring ad. Both online and in-person, skipping over the occasional store that you felt you weren’t cut out for. Now, it’s come to the point where you don’t have the luxury to be picky.
Still, the shoe store that wouldn’t hire you? At least you have shoes, even if they’re worn-in Vans and Converse for the most part.
The reception job at the law firm? It’s not like you have a degree or can cite any, but you know general laws.
This? You sigh as your gaze traces the letters across the failing light box, deep red letters spelling out Adult Boutique.
It’s not that you have anything against it.
It’s that you’ve never used a sex toy.
Hell, you don’t know the first thing about them.
You’ve never even had sex before.
Sighing, you throw your head back against the headrest of your old rusting sedan and take a moment to breathe in the harsh disappointment of chasing your dreams. Your hands settle in your lap as you set aside any reservations you have, snatching your resumé from the passenger’s seat and shutting the door behind you. You walk with as much confidence as you can muster into the shop, but it’s almost humiliating how far out of your wheelhouse you are when you’re met with the interior. For as confident as you are, it drains from you in an instant.
Humiliation is a kink though, right?
“ID?” You pause in the doorway before you can get much of a look at the store, staring at a man with piercing blue eyes and white hair. He’s handsome, maybe a year younger than you, and his friendly smile is horribly infectious.
You stand like a deer in the headlights, your lips caught in an embarrassing ‘o’ before your mind catches up. ID. You’re in an age-restricted store. Right.
“Shoot–” Your hands fly down to your pockets, reaching for the wallet…
… That you left in the car.
Your jaw hangs ajar at the realization, warmth climbing from the back of your neck to the tips of your ears as the handsome clerk’s startlingly blue eyes pin you in place.
You shut your eyes, biting down on your lower lip. “I’ll be right back.”
In the midst of your walk of shame back to your car across the street, every thought reminds you that you could just leave. You could forget this ever happened and simply accept you aren’t getting the job. The fact that your wallet is so empty that you left it in your unlocked car in a shady part of town serves as a reminder that, again, you don’t exactly have the luxury of being picky.
With a forlorn sigh and a drag of your hands down your face, you put on your best confident smile and make your way back inside. The clerk grins as you hand over your ID, leaning over the counter on forearms that you swear you’re not staring at.
They’re just veiny.
And incredibly hot.
“Sorry,” you sigh as you pocket your ID again.
“Don’t worry about it,” there’s a small wave of his hand to brush you off, and when you look up to meet his eyes, there’s a particularly sultry look to his gaze. It’s enough to warm your cheeks again, and you can only pray he doesn’t notice how much you’ve been staring. “Looking for anything in particular?” He bears a lopsided tilt to his grin that sets your nerves further alight as your stomach ties in knots under the handsome stranger’s gaze.
It’s gotta be a bad combination to be clueless on everything around you and thinking about the hot man in front of you rather than the job you’re applying for.
Shaking your head to center yourself, you put on your best smile. “Yeah, actually.” The man’s expression changes to intrigue as you hand over your resumé. His eyes skim it, brows raising.
He gives you a once-over, setting the paper down with a more genuine grin. “We could use the help,” he admits. “The owner’ll be in tomorrow morning, I’ll have her give you a call.”
That’s the most positive response you’ve received to an application thus far. Although you find yourself nervously eyeing a bottle of G-Spot Stimulating Gel on the counter that you don’t know the first thing about, you’re honestly relieved that things could be looking up. You can handle this job with a bit of research, surely.
“That would be great,” you offer a smile. “Thank you.”
–
So, the good news is that you have a job. The bad news is that you still don’t know the first thing about what you’re selling. Admittedly, you probably should have done some research or looked over the product offerings on the store’s site, but somewhere between preparation for a new job and trying to sleep through the train shaking your apartment every few minutes, you forgot.
The kind woman who interviewed you over the phone and the store’s owner– Jillian– greets you at the door as you push into the store. Her graying hair is curled tightly at her roots, her eyes wrinkled at the corner and kind. She wears a pale pink wool sweater that compliments her lip gloss, standing at about the same height as you. She’s old enough to retire and still gorgeous all-the-same.
“Welcome, dear,” she smiles brilliantly at the sight of you, ushering you towards the front counter with a hand on your shoulder. “I appreciate the help, it’ll be nice to step back from the counter and keep my job behind-the-scenes.”
“I’m happy to help,” you reply with a kind grin, keeping up your best customer service attitude. As she leads you behind the counter, your eyes flick to the two tall men standing behind the counter. You recognize the first as the hot white-haired man who accepted your resumé. Cheery, charming, and strikingly handsome with toned muscles visible from under his white t-shirt.
The man beside doesn’t bear the same welcoming nature. In fact, they’re the definition of polar opposites.
Standing a couple of inches taller than the one you recognize, he has black hair that must be dyed, pink roots standing out like a rose among thorns. His ears are pierced in a multitude of ways with matching brow and lip piercings and tattoos that travel up the back of his neck, reaching his jaw. He’s in far darker and more casual clothes, arms crossed over his broad and built chest with his hip leaned on the counter, and a look of mild disinterest that does no favors for your nerves.
Where the white-haired man bears a friendly smile and a button-up that makes him look ready for a job in a cubicle, his black-haired colleague is very clearly assessing your every move, and looks like he could be on-stage at a dingy bar.
She introduces you to the men, earning a grin from the one you recognize and… nothing from the man with black-dyed hair.
“I’ll be in every couple of days to do the cash deposit,” she explains. “I’ll also drop by to check on the office and put together paperwork, but Satoru–” she points to the white-haired man who casually salutes in greeting, “and Ryomen–” her hand waves towards the frowning man who doesn’t react save for a glance at the older woman, “will train you. Satoru usually does the opening shift and Ryomen does the closing shift. We’re closed Mondays and Tuesdays, but you’ll work the rest of the week.” You’re grateful for the consistency, if nothing else. “You’ll take the midday Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, you’ll be alone for a bit while the boys are in classes, and you’ll take the closing shifts on weekends to help Ryomen during busy hours.”
His gaze, a crimson so striking you have half a mind to wonder if they’re contacts, flicks to you, indiscernible, then back to Jillian.
“You won’t be alone while you train of course though, the boys and I will cover until you’re comfortable being alone.” She pats you once on the shoulder. “Does that work for you, dear?”
“Not a problem at all,” you nod. You clasp your hands together politely.
“Perfect!” She claps once in glee, clearly happy to step away from serving customers. You can understand that sentiment. “I’ll grab your paperwork.”
Satoru’s gaze follows her as she heads for the back room, then turns cheerily to you. “Hey, newbie!” He steps forward from the counter, outstretching his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Shaking his hand, you match his grin. “Well, by name anyway.”
You turn your expectations to Ryomen, who doesn’t move from the spot he’s standing in. His weight shifts to the other hip, still leaning against the counter when he juts his chin out in less of a greeting and more of an acknowledgement. “Hey.”
“Nice to meet you, Ryomen.” You give him a little wave.
“Sukuna,” he corrects you. His words aren’t sharp per se, but they carry a blunt edge. “Only the old lady can call me Ryomen.” His voice is as gruff as his style and stature, fitting of the brutish impression he gives off. His slightly narrowed eyes give off the notion that he’s evaluating you. Reading you.
With a tight-lipped smile, Satoru scratches at the back of his head. He shoots you an apologetic glance as you uncomfortably gather that this isn’t unusual for Sukuna.
“Got it, sorry.” You offer an apologetic smile, which he accepts with a nod.
Satoru steps forward to save you from the interaction, motioning with his head out to the store’s floor. “Why don’t I show you around?”
You nod gratefully, letting him lead you away from the counter. Sukuna’s gaze is quick to drop to the counter as he leans over a book of some sort, his chin resting atop his hand. You turn your attention back to Satoru as he leads you through the long back area of the store
A colorful assortment of dildos and vibrators line the walls of the first aisle, anything from glass to silicone in different shapes and size varieties. The light in the far corner flickers when you step into the aisle, faux wood creaking under-foot. The store has that sort of old strip mall feel where, although well-maintained, its age is evident in the old fixtures and failing lights.
“Sorry about him,” Satoru’s voice is a near-whisper as he shakes his head. His hair falls in front of those striking blue eyes as he leads the way down each aisle. You’re not sure you’d really call it showing you around, but you’re certainly walking the floor. “He’s uhhh–” he waves his hand through the air as he searches for the right term. “Moody, or something.” He chuckles. “I don’t know, you get used to it. Don’t take it personally.”
“He doesn’t seem like a customer service person,” you admit sheepishly, keeping your voice down.
Satoru does no favors keeping his own down as he barks a laugh. “No, not really, hey? He’s Jillian’s friend’s son, so–” he shrugs as you mentally connect the dots that landed him this job. “It’s an easy enough gig and honestly business is slow.”
“That’s a shame,” you offer, mostly for Jillian’s sake, although you don’t mind it being slow.
“I said it was slow, not bad,” he grins, eyes narrowing to that sultry gaze he shot you when you dropped off your resumé last week. “We have a lot of regulars. People who spend a lot. You’ll recognize them in time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’ll be nice to have some company for the end of my shifts,” he adds, tilting his head to eye you. He crosses his arms over his chest, catching your attention as you glance at his muscles just long enough to consider yourself caught. He takes the opportunity and swings with it. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” His voice drops a tone, the flirty lilt warming the tips of your ears.
“Yeah, it’ll be nice to get to know you too.”
Jillian returns with paperwork before Satoru can take the opportunity to flirt any further– but you get the feeling he will. It seems to go hand-in-hand with his personality. Once everything is signed and Satoru has headed off for class, Jillian leaves training in Sukuna’s hands as she retreats to the back to file your paperwork.
Sukuna’s gaze is a slow drag down your form as he evaluates the dark blouse and nice jeans you chose to wear. Admittedly, you now feel a little overdressed given his relative comfort and ripped jeans, but in spite of the judgement clear as day in his eyes, he keeps it to himself. At least, as long as you don’t count the frown he bears. You can’t really tell if that’s meant for you or if that’s his neutral expression.
With a sigh, he shuts whatever book is on the counter behind him and gives you a rundown in short, clipped sentences. “Floor work first, cash after. You worked cash before?”
You nod, though the register looks fairly old here.
He gives a hum of approval. “Good. The floor's pretty self-explanatory. Everything is ordered by brand, then color. Shipments Mondays and Thursdays. Back room for any overstock.” He points over his shoulder to where Jillian disappeared as he lays out instructions like facts. “No clock system. Just work when you work. Pay is every second Friday. You’ll get a check.”
Again, you nod.
His gaze travels the length of your figure, but it doesn’t feel as though he’s checking you out. It’s an evaluation. And you’re pretty sure you’re failing before you’ve had the chance to start. “I don’t care what you do when customers aren’t around. Study, read, go on your phone. I don’t give a shit.”
“Oh, okay. That’s kinda nice.”
His tone is apathetic as he hums in agreement. “I didn’t have time last night and I know Satoru’s lazy ass didn’t clean this morning, so I’ll get you to organize the shibari while I put some shit away.”
You nod, slipping away from the counter onto the floor. His gaze tracks you as you very unconfidently thread through the rows in search of shibari. To your horror, nothing is well-labeled, which means there isn’t a distinct section with some big flashy sign to point you in the direction of a kink you don’t know the name of.
“It’s at the back,” Sukuna’s low voice calls out. Biting down on your lip, you move towards the back of the store, your gaze trailing along the wall. There are a number of bondage devices you can’t name, ropes that you assume go with bondage, and chains and whips that all feel bondage-adjacent.
So, more or less, you’re still at a loss.
Really failing that evaluation now.
Behind you, Sukuna is replacing products that were atop the counter at the front, but his movements stop when he fixes you with his narrowed gaze. “The ropes,” he points them out on the wall with displeasure prickling around the edge of his sandpaper-scraped voice. Now that you look at them, it feels obvious given how out of order they are.
“I know!” Heat flares beneath your skin in all the wrong places. Still, you won’t let him get to you. “I was just looking.”
He doesn’t reply, his crimson gaze boring into your expression so hard that you’re pretty sure he can see right through you.
At least you can’t fuck up the organization of the ropes.
Quietly sucking in a breath, you turn to the wall, pulling down the plastic-covered rope bundles that are out of place.
“So,” you turn your gaze over your shoulder. “You’re in school?”
“Mhm.”
“What are you taking?”
“Business.”
He’s difficult, too. Great.
Once the ropes are in a more sound order, you spin on your heel to face him. He’s already turning away, moving to a different area to put away a vibrator.
“Can I–”
“Here.” He tosses a bottle of lube at you, caught clumsily in unexpecting fingers. “Put that away, too.”
Pressing your lips into a tight line, you nod, more to yourself than him. At least you know what lube is.
You search the store for the spot where it belongs, twisting it on the shelf so the label faces out, then make your way to the counter where Sukuna’s already standing over his book again. Before you have the opportunity to speak, the bell over the door rings as a customer walks through the door. She’s around your age, and quickly flashes ID towards Sukuna, who nods.
A regular, you suppose.
The tattooed clerk’s eyes trail to you, jutting his chin out expectantly towards the customer.
Making your way up to the woman with cute blonde hair cut short, you fall into your customer service voice. “Can I help you find anything?”
“Hi!” She beams at you, her smile putting your first day nerves at ease. “Thank you, but I know where most things are,” she waves you off politely. “I appreciate it, though!” She moves past you towards the back of the store, whirling around suddenly as her gaze shifts between you and Sukuna. “Oh, actually, did you get any more of the cherry stimulants in?”
You turn your attention to Sukuna, who fixes you with a lazy unsure expression. “She can check for you.” He leans his hip on the counter again, arms crossed over his chest as he faces you. “It’ll be in the back. They come in a box with a cherry logo on them.”
Worrying your lip between your teeth, you nod as you make your way to the back.
Truthfully, the cramped room is a bit of a relief from the uncomfortable tension Sukuna just seems to naturally exude. Him and Satoru are big personalities in the most opposite way you can possibly imagine, but at least Satoru is willing to chat.
Jillian glances over her shoulder from an old computer at the back of the room. “Everything going well, dear?”
“Yeah,” you grin, though truthfully this already feels like a disaster where you’re being scornfully judged by your colleague and accidentally making enemies on day one. With one of the only people you work with. So that’s great. “There’s just someone looking for stimulants.”
She shifts in her chair, doing a once-over of the boxes. “Not back here. There’s an inventory list on this computer that you can usually use, but I don’t want to lose progress on your files. Can you ask Ryomen to check the holds drawer? Satoru might have put some on hold if he knew they were looking.”
“Sure, thank you!”
With a grateful smile, you head back to the front and relay the information to Sukuna.
“Holds drawer’s there.” He points to a handle on the lower inside of the counter. Within are a number of boxes and small sachet packs. “Mm, there they are.”
Clearly one of the sachet packs is what she’s looking for. Unfortunately, they all fail to say exactly what they are on the front with bright and bold brands rather than descriptors or even a damn cherry logo, which means you haven’t the faintest clue what you’re looking at.
“The orange one,” Sukuna adds when you’re still paused staring at the drawer. There’s an unimpressed lilt to his tone that has you wincing before you pull the sachet pack from the drawer. You do what you can to keep your expression neutral and feign confidence when you stand upright again.
The whole situation is tense and embarrassing. It might at least be tolerable with Satoru, but Sukuna either enjoys your suffering or he’s an asshole.
The unfortunate third possible option is both.
His grimace as you set the pack in his hand isn’t lost on you, although you choose to head towards the register in hopes that he can at least teach you how it works and you can get on with this day. He chooses not to say a word to you as the customer finishes looking around, returning to the front with a rose-shaped vibrator.
“Ooh, thank you!” She grins as she spots the packet at the register.
Sukuna nods, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re paying attention. “Just type the amounts into the register,” he explains, putting both prices from the stickers into the old machine. Once he hits the equals button, the cash drawer pops open as he gets the total and it calculates tax for him. The customer flashes a card, so Sukuna shuts the drawer and types the amount into the machine to his right. “While she pays, get the serials on each tag and write them here,” he explains, pulling the number from each barcode and writing them on a pad of paper left of the register. Once her payment is processed, a receipt prints, which he hands to her, keeping the second copy under the till. Finally, he bags the items.
She thanks him, giving you a polite little wave and retreating out the door.
You let out a breath, nodding. “The register seems easy enough,” you try more friendly commentary in spite of his half-assed teaching, but you suppose by now you shouldn’t expect Sukuna to be receptive. He hums, a judgemental flash in his eyes as he pins you in place with a narrowed gaze like he can see something you can’t.
He works his jaw in a slow grind of teeth like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, dropping your gaze. “I’ve got to study. There’s not much else to the job besides that, so keep yourself busy.”
Thankfully the rest of the day passes without much of a hitch and you’re able to leave as evening hits, with Sukuna staying to close the store.
He doesn’t give you another word for the remainder of the day. He doesn’t expect you to handle customers. He handles the till. He doesn’t even look at you as you let him know your shift is over. You aren’t sure whether to be grateful or dread the rest of your shifts with him, but thankfully you’re able to spend more time with Satoru tomorrow.
Given that you’re off a couple of hours before close, you use the opportunity to stake out local bars with stages and take note of a small pub tucked away in a little corner. The outside has a sign that doesn’t light up in the night’s cover, but within it’s rather warm, with string lights hung over a stage in the back. While you work on your online presence, it’s the perfect spot to get your stage skills up.
The thick metal of the door is cool on your hand, creaking on its hinge as you press through to the interior warmth. There’s a small two-man group on-stage performing low-energy grunge that seem to be garnering decent attention from onlookers and groups you would be willing to bet are regulars based on the way they move around the small scene.
Adjusting your jacket over your shoulder, you make your way to the bar. The bartender looks to be a couple of years senior to you, with short brown hair kept neat aside from a couple of stray strands that fall over his forehead. He has a prominent nose and sunken eyes that give him an overall air of tiredness.
The apron he wears over a clean-cut button-up pulls taut across his chest as he reaches overhead to set a bottle of whiskey along the back wall before turning his attention to you with a polite smile. “What can I get for you?”
“Oh, um, actually,” you begin with a polite smile, “I was wondering who I need to impress to be up there.” You point to the grunge band at the back as his gaze follows you.
He hums, his calm demeanor shifting from the routine of bartending to something more friendly. “I can give you the owner’s email. If you fit in with the crowd, he’ll work with your schedule.”
Casting another glance at the two men on-stage, you nod, chewing on your lip in an effort to hide your giddy smile. “That’d be great. So… what– a little moody, kind of chill? Maybe some minor chords in there?”
The bartender chuckles, picking up a glass like routine simply fills his subconscious. “Sounds to me like you’ve already got the gig.”
Leaving behind the smell of drowned sorrows and shared laughter, you can hold onto the fact that while your day took a turn for the worst, it’s just a job. Once you leave the building, you don’t have to think about it and can focus on music. Sukuna isn’t the end of the world and if you can manage to stay out of his hair, surely you can find some sort of common ground with him.
–
Wind whips too fast across the street when you lock your car behind you. Your unzipped coat flails in the wind, leaving you with a flustered expression as the shop door slams shut behind you.
“Hey newbie,” Satoru greets you with an amused grin. You flash him a smile as you smooth down your outfit, far more casual than the previous one with jeans and a band shirt. “How was yesterday?” He asks, wiping down the counter and tossing the wipe in a garbage as he claps his hands together to brush them off.
The chuckle that parts your lips is half-hearted as you drop your laptop bag atop the front counter. “Kind of a disaster?” You wince, shaking your head. “Is he seriously always like that?”
Satoru stands upright, running a hand through white locks. “He gets better when you get to know him, but yeah he’s kind of an asshole,” he laughs brightly, unbothered. “I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips.”
“Sure, if the chips are sour,” you mutter.
Satoru snickers, nodding. “What happened anyway?”
“I didn’t immediately know where everything is without being shown,” you wave a hand through the air, letting it hang there for a moment in disbelief.
Satoru, unphased, grins. “Oh, yeah. Sounds like a classic case of not running on Sukuna’s schedule. You should really get on that.”
You throw your head back with a sigh, giving a dismissive wave of your hands. “Whatever, it’s a new day, right? Maybe it won’t be so bad today.”
Satoru teasingly sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Sorry newbie, but my sources are telling me today’s weather is looking cloudy in Sukuna-land.”
Satoru’s unseriousness helps settle a modicum of your nerves as you find yourself laughing at his charm.
“But hey, you’ve got me for a couple of hours first.” He grins, settling the balls of his palms atop the counter as he leans his weight back. One of his sleeves, rolled to the elbow, slides down his forearm to his wrist. “What did he go over with you, anyway?”
You laugh loosely. “Like, nothing. He gave me a thirty second run-down of the till and told me I don’t need to clock in or out.”
“That’s gold,” Satoru shakes his head in an effort to get hair from falling into his line of sight. “I thought he’d be nicer to a pretty girl like you.” His face lights up as you avert your eyes, smiling at the scuffed floor underfoot. He keeps the conversation flowing like it’s second nature. “Tell you what, I’ll actually try to show you around before he gets here, and you can tell me what brought you to the city.”
Recovering quickly, you fix him with a humbled expression at the callout. “Is it that obvious that I’m not from here?”
Satoru barks a laugh. “Yeah. You’ve got small town energy.”
“Small town energy? What does that even mean?” You follow him out from behind the counter as he leads the way to the back room first.
“Just vibes,” he shrugs. “It’s good. Cute,” he grins. You get the feeling he’s a bit of a flirt through and through, but truthfully you enjoy the attention.
Plus, he’s hot.
“Thanks,” you murmur with a bashful smile, chewing on your lip. “I uh– I wanted to give my dream a shot before tying myself down in a career I hate.”
His eyes light up as he turns to you with a palm on the door handle for the back room. “Oh yeah? What’s your dream?”
“Singing. Music,” you admit, feeling just shy enough that you avert your gaze in spite of your giddiness.
“No way.” He’s grinning widely now, his hand leaving the door handle as he chooses to lean against it instead, arms crossed tantalizingly over his chest. “I feel like I’m obligated to be the annoying guy who asks you to sing for me now.”
You laugh heartily. “At least you know it would make you that guy.”
With a chuckle, he finally turns around to lead the way into the back room. He peppers actual explanations of the job’s inner workings between personal questions.
After explaining the inventory system on the back computer and how boxes are organized, he leads the way back through the aisles, pointing out different sections as you walk. “So, do you take gigs between shifts?”
“When I can,” you nod. “I’m trying to put together the money to get some studio time soon. I have some self-recorded stuff, but I don’t think I’m much of a producer.”
“Will you at least tell me what genre?”
“Um,” you shrug thoughtfully, “I guess like punk or indie rock?”
“Oooh, so you’re a moody guitar girl. I like it, I like it.” He nods his approval with a wide grin. The faintest of dimples forms at the corners of his lips, giving him a charmingly boyish smile.
Your genuine shared laughter sends flutters to the pit of your stomach, warm and welcome, as you finish threading through aisles and head back to the front counter. Satoru pushes up on forearms that flex under his weight as he settles atop the counter. You follow suit on the opposite counter, head tilting as you inquire about him.
“Jillian mentioned you’re in school, what are you taking?”
“Business,” he replies with a lopsided smile.
“Oh, like Sukuna?”
“Damn, you got an answer out of him?” Satoru chuckles. “Yeah, he’s a year ahead of me but we’re in the same program. I think he wants to do the whole company startup thing though, I’m looking to kinda take over for Jillian and eventually buy this place if things work out. She’s holding out until I finish.”
Your brow raises as you fix him with an inquisitive look. “You wanna take over here?”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” he chides, gaze lidded with an almost-cocky attitude. “Don’t get me wrong, I know it doesn’t seem busy even with online orders, but I actually think there’s a huge untapped market here.” He straightens and you can see the passion and drive gleaming in his eager gaze. “I think the way sex toys are sold both online and in-stores is outdated and makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable and I want to try to do something new to help people feel more comfortable and open in terms of sex.”
You blink, nodding at the insightful way that he goes on to explain the ins and outs of his opinion on the industry and how, although he loves Jillian, he can see a lot of ways to use his knowledge to improve the business and hopes to change the way kinks are viewed.
It’s not like it hasn’t occurred to you just how inexperienced you are, but as you nod along to his passionate explanation, it occurs to you just how experienced he is. He doesn’t say it outright, but he talks about the way condoms are made and how bad they can be for some people, how he hopes to bring in products for people who struggle with medication killing their sex drive, and even the intricacies of what products work well and which don’t and how he would love to stop stocking them altogether.
It shouldn’t come as a shock– it doesn’t– after all, he’s hot and flirty, but it certainly gives the butterflies in your stomach an edge that you aren’t sure what to make of. It’s not uncomfortable– Satoru’s still kind and has a welcoming personality– it’s closer to inadequacy. Like you should know more, and not just for job purposes. It doesn’t sit well.
But you shouldn’t be thinking about your coworker like that anyway, right?
Thankfully, before you can think too hard about the subject, Sukuna walks through the door with a heavy step to his boots.
Maybe ‘thankfully’ doesn’t suit his arrival, though. His gaze flits briefly between each of you before he heads straight to the back, giving you both a noncommittal wave as you greet him.
When the door shuts behind the brute, Satoru turns to you. He grimaces, faux empathy shining in cerulean seas. “The weather report was right.”
The day passes so quickly with Satoru even without a single customer entering the store that the rest of the day feels like a slog without him. Or maybe it just feels like a slog because Sukuna makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you. He even stayed in the back until Satoru had to leave in spite of the changes in their regular schedules just to train you.
He’s not even that unfriendly with Satoru either from what the kinder of the two told you. He tried to reason that your tattooed co-worker simply isn’t fond of new people, but you’re pretty sure your inexperience grates on his nerves.
And unfortunately, every little slip up seems to tack on. Your shifts with Satoru are a breeze that leaves you grinning bashfully over your new crush while your shifts with Sukuna have you questioning every life choice you’ve ever made.
Your first weekend closing shift with Sukuna, you’re pretty sure you confirm your suspicions that he simply doesn’t like you.
The bell rings overhead as a tall man with dark hair walks through the door. You greet him and offer a hand, but his gait is purposeful as he heads into the back after flashing ID. Passing the time by fiddling with a pen as Sukuna stares blankly at the door with a hand lazily strewn over his textbook page, your gaze lifts when the man returns.
“Excuse me. Do you know the difference between this–” he shows you a bullet vibrator, “and this?” He holds up a hitachi wand next, “aside from size?”
Your jaw hangs open stupidly as you try to formulate a response but find yourself at a loss when size seems like the reasonable answer. Feeling your face flush, you glance sidelong at the business major.
If looks could kill.
The worst part? It’s not even glare.
It’s the most unfiltered and raw disappointment you’ve ever seen.
He huffs, pushing up from the counter. “The bullet is discreet but weak. It takes batteries and they usually only last for five hours overall. It’s still a good amount of use, but they might be watch batteries, which can be a pain.” He shoots you a pointed stare that makes you wonder if you would rather have just embarrassed yourself in front of Satoru in spite of your crush. “The wand is rechargeable, way stronger, lasts about fifteen hours, and has a lot more vibration modes,” he explains confidently.
The man nods, setting the bullet aside as he brings the wand to the counter. Over the course of the past few days, Sukuna’s taken most of the floor-related duties away from you in spite of the fact that you have tried to do some research and are getting to know the sections and general genres of toys. That question simply didn’t come up. Yet for all of the times he’s made a motion for you to take over cash, he doesn’t even offer it this time.
You get the feeling this goes beyond his usual irritation.
You can practically feel it radiating off of him in waves of negative energy.
The moment the customer walks out the door, Sukuna’s palm splays across the counter as he turns with frustrating evenness to face you. Somehow his ability to keep his actions level while being visibly affronted is worse than if he would have just yelled.
“Do you think you’re cute for making my job harder or did you just apply for the wrong fucking job?”
Okay. Fuck this guy.
“You can’t be serious right now.”
He lifts his hands in a loose shrug. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He replies, dry and even with venomous fangs.
You scoff, but relent nonetheless given that he is close to the store’s owner and you can not afford to lose this job.
Literally.
You can’t call a scoop of peanut butter dinner again.
“Look, I’m sorry, this is just–” you hesitate, your mind muddled as you search for an explanation. Sighing in exasperation, you throw your hands up, letting them fall to your sides with a plop against your jeans. You settle on the truth before you take too long to reply. “Sex toys are new to me.”
His jaw ticks as he leans his hip back against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. Somehow, he makes Satoru look small– not thin or short, but small– given how much bulkier he is. He’s hot too, but his personality stands as a bit of a wall between you. His jaw works, eyes narrowed as he takes in your words.
At last, he chuckles. Dry and devoid of any amusement. “Why the fuck did you apply here if you don’t know anything about the shit we sell?”
“Because I need a job?” You reply incredulously.
He huffs a sigh. “Just my fucking luck.” He turns back to the register, haphazardly tossing the receipt into a small bin under the counter before he grabs the bullet vibrator and heads out onto the floor. “Figure that shit out,” he calls sourly without looking back at you. “Watch porn or buy something, I don’t give a shit. Just don’t make my job harder.”
Leaning back against the counter where it meets the wall, you let your head fall back in disbelief.
Asshole.
–
You wish you could say your first month passes seamlessly, but Sukuna makes the seams painfully obvious.
With Satoru, they’re subtle but you still feel them.
They both present separate problems.
Sukuna is an outright asshole and you want to get things right if only to not hear his virulent voice. The silence is somehow better.
Satoru is kind, open, and caring, but leagues ahead of you in experience and you have a massive crush. There aren’t enough customers in the morning to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you do find yourself wanting to impress him and against your better judgement, you’re pretty sure you’ve given him the impression you know what you’re doing from what little research you’ve done and what you’ve picked up over the month.
At least you’re trained enough that you get a couple of hours to yourself between Satoru’s departure and Sukuna’s arrival now that their hours aren’t extended in order to train you.
“You gonna be okay on your own?” Satoru asks, shrugging his jacket over his shoulder.
“I’ll be fine,” you brush him off with a smile.
He nudges your arm, unknowingly sending goosebumps in a trail up your skin. “Good. Text me if you need something. Or, I dunno. If you’re bored.”
Your heart does a little flip. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”
You watch bashfully as he leaves, offering a little wave. Once he’s out of sight, you lean on your forearms over the counter. With a forlorn sigh, you drop your chin to the vinyl below, staring blankly out the window. Truthfully, it’s nice to have a breather between each man. You need the time to prepare yourself to handle Sukuna.
Your mind’s distraction comes in the form of your phone buzzing a few minutes later.
1:36 PM Satoru || not bored yet? ;)
A distraction to be sure. Whether it’s fortunate or not– yet to be determined.
The door seems to be opening more and more with him these days and as giddy as that makes you, nerves are beginning to show more and more at the seams. It’s foolish really, and you know that, but you find yourself constantly coming back to your lack of experience.
1:37 PM You || Give me like 5 more minutes and then I will be
You can practically hear the laugh he barks, having grown fond of his company.
You’re still casually texting back and forth when Sukuna’s shoulder presses on the door. He moves confidently through the shop, casting a single glance at you before dropping his bag off in the back room.
He’s still a pain in the ass, but Satoru was right that you do get used to it. You’re not sure that you’d call that a win, but at least you’ve come to some sort of silent agreement with him out of sheer necessity.
He didn’t leave you with many options after realizing just how little you know about the industry. When he got in the following day and returned your greeting with a painfully mild ‘don’t bother’, you had to figure out some sort of system that would prevent him from interacting with you altogether if it means his attitude is milder.
That’s how you landed here. He handles the floor and questions, you handle cash. You can tell he hates the arrangement given that he’s not a chatty guy, but at least you aren’t pinned in place by his vile appraisal every time you interact.
He’s civil.
Civil enough.
Most of the time.
For him, anyway.
He’s less judgemental, at least, and when you are able to help on the floor, he tends to leave you be more often than not. It’s like the loosest form of appreciation you can think of.
You’re pretty sure ‘tolerates’ is a fitting word for how he sees you. Like some sort of intrusive insect that sits just out of reach.
When he re-emerges from the back with his coat shrugged off, you’re surprised to see him in a black button-up and slacks, carrying his usual aloof expression as he makes his way to the counter. Admittedly, it’s a good look for him.
It’s unfair that he gets to be hot and an asshole.
“Is there a reason you’re staring?”
Thank god you don’t find him intimidating anymore. He’s a dick. Even to customers from time to time, but you don’t find yourself feeling small under his judgement. Maybe you should, but your ability to quickly bounce back could easily be placed at fault.
Blinking, you avert your gaze. “Sorry. I’m just not used to seeing you so dressed up.”
He examines your expression as though he suspects a lie in your words. “I had a presentation,” he explains, surprisingly open as he offers the explanation willingly.
Holy shit. It’s the first sunny day in the Sukuna forecast.
“What sort of presentation?”
“A marketing pitch.”
“Oh, nice.” You nod, trying to keep the peace. “How’d it go?”
He nods, turning to the counter to open his laptop. “Good. We’re gonna workshop it a bit, but I’m hoping to pitch to investors soon.” There’s pride within the evenness of his voice that has you tilting your head, intrigued to get something genuine from him.
Leaning in, you push to see how much you can get from him. “Like, a startup idea?” You recall Satoru mentioning something of the sort.
His gaze fixes you from over his shoulder. You get the feeling with him that he’s always trying to read you. “Yeah. A platform where people can pitch their businesses to customers within a certain distance without needing social media.”
“Oh,” you blink, mildly surprised. “That’s a really good idea.”
He hums, turning back to his laptop.
“You don’t really strike me as the CEO type, if I’m being honest.”
“I’m not,” he agrees, surprisingly unbothered by the observation. You consider yourself lucky he doesn’t take it as an insult. “I’d be looking for a co-founder to handle the personal, financial, and sales bullshit. I’d run strategy and go-to-market.”
Admittedly, yeah. That suits him. He’s sharp and straightforward, he seems like the type to be more inclined to work on strategy and run everything without the constant need for approval and help from others.
“That sounds more your style. What made you think of the platform idea?”
He doesn’t look back as he replies. “Just seemed like something that would make money.”
You recognize that as Sukuna being polite. He’s shutting you down without a look that makes your skin crawl for once. You suppose it’s as good of a time as any to return to your texts. Your friend from back home has been religiously sending memes during your shifts to get you through the Sukuna days and today is no exception. You laugh at a few of them under your breath.
The day is as uneventful as usual. Sukuna even casts an approving glance in your direction when you correctly answer a customer’s question. He’s not so bad when he isn’t glaring every couple of minutes.
You pray the weather stays sunny in Sukunaland.
Shutting the register as a customer leaves, you turn back inside the store to find Sukuna back to work, hunched over his textbook and regurgitating the information into notes. You opt not to bother him, turning your attention instead to a flickering bulb in the back of the floor. Much like both men have chosen not to mention or fix it, you have too.
Turning your attention back to your phone, you cast a smile at your latest text from Satoru.
5:53 PM You || The weather's looking surprisingly sunny today!!
5:54 PM Satoru || be on the lookout for rain. the weather can change on a dime
5:54 PM You || I can handle a bit of rain
5:55 PM Satoru || i’ll bet you can ;)
There your stomach goes doing flips again. Your thumbs fiddle with the edges of your phone case, pulling at the plastic as you stare at the message with that horrible mix of nerves and your stomach tying in knots. You get so caught up in your own self-doubt, you don’t realize you’re staring at Sukuna, busy with his own phone.
“What?” He gruffs, retaining that hint of annoyance.
“Hm?” You blink, brought back to the present. Before you, Sukuna is leaning against the counter, phone in-hand as his jaw shifts left and right. His lip ring noticeably catches like he’s fiddling with it. “Oh. Sorry.” With a shake of your head, you stare back down at your screen. Your gaze catches on the winky face. The underlying meaning behind it and his text. The impression you’ve probably given off working at a sex toy boutique.
The goddamn butterflies, though. The same ones causing the wave of self-consciousness that you know is foolish. But fuck is it hard not to feel that way when Satoru is undeniably the kind of guy that has people hanging off his shoulder with little to no effort. Your experience shouldn’t matter, but society has taught you to think otherwise.
“Hey,” you speak up on impulse before your mind can catch up to the move your mouth is already making. You can’t be certain whether it’s bravery or stupidity. “You know a lot about what we sell, right?”
His eyes narrow, minute. Just enough to catch your attention. “Yeah. I’m good at my job.”
The dig at your knowledge has you pressing your lips together. God, he’s frustrating. “Asshole.” His brow raises slightly, like something he once deemed uninteresting or unuseful has caught his attention and he’s appraising the situation to find if you’re deserving of it. “Is there, like… a way to improve without watching porn?” You query, worrying your lip between your teeth.
No longer engrossed in his laptop upon noticing your stare, Sukuna’s gaze bores into you. He doesn’t particularly make you uneasy now like he did when you first started, but it is sharp in spite of the evenness behind it. “I told you. Buy toys.”
You suppose you could have been a bit more specific. “No, I know that. A lot of them need a partner, though.”
He waves his hand in disinterest through the air like you’ve already answered your own question and he’s done entertaining any more. “Find one, then.” He’s already looking away as he replies.
You suck in a breath. “I’m from a small town. I just moved here, I don’t really know anyone.”
Sukuna just stares at you again like he expects you to figure it out yourself. His arms cross over his chest, his hip leaned against the counter. It’s not until the air turns stifling, your words hanging a hair too long as you meet his gaze that he cuts the tension with a disbelieving laugh.
“You’re asking me?” You can’t make heads or tails of his expression when it sits somewhere between disbelief and intrigue. It’s akin to the look you got upon calling him an asshole.
“No! Or– maybe? I don’t know.” The wince you shoot him is humiliating as you try to navigate the stormy seas you’ve set yourself sailing through.
“Why don’t you go ask Satoru?” He queries, pushing a hand back through his black-dyed locks like this question was never meant for him. Still, his tone doesn’t give off the impression that he’s irritated by you, so much as something more curious in nature.
Your gaze averts as your jaw hangs open in a frustrating moment of hesitation. Briefly glancing at the texts sitting in your hand is the only tell Sukuna needs, unfortunately able to read you like a book for some god forsaken reason.
“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” he chuckles, airy and amused. He pushes up off the counter, taking a step towards you like he’s laying out a challenge. “You don’t give a shit about the job. You’re trying to impress that fucker.” He rakes his tongue over his teeth, standing over you like he owns this damn conversation.
You cross your arms over your chest, fixing him with your own judgement. “You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”
He pushes a condescending breath through his nose, smiling with nothing but mockery. “I don’t, but I’m gonna. You two would hit it off.”
Frowning, you opt to not give him the reaction he wants. Your nails dig into the skin of your arm. “I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk as much.”
“Most people do,” he smirks. He steps forward, hands in his pockets as he leans over you. “You still want me to teach you a thing or two, sweetheart?” His tone drips with condescension now that the person he once saw as little more than a pain in his ass has become something he can toy with.
You roll your eyes. You hadn’t expected your quiet co-worker to be this kind of an asshole. Why couldn’t he just say no and move on? Where did all the theatrics come from? “Why are you such a dick?”
“Answer the question,” he deflects, unbothered and painfully egotistical.
You huff, staring at the lemon-shaped vibrator sitting atop the counter that you’ve been contemplating buying for the last hour. “Fine. Yeah, I do.”
He blows a breath through his nose, standing upright again once he’s gotten your admission in his hands. “What’s in it for me?” The way he stands over you, chin tilted, and eyes narrowed, makes you huff.
You hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. Hell, you didn’t expect to even voice your thoughts out loud. You barely even know enough about him to offer him anything. “I took business as a minor,” you suggest. “I could tutor you.”
“Nah, I’m set.”
You shrug, exasperated. Your hands wave uselessly through the air before plopping back down at your sides. “What do you want, then?”
He regards you with a thoughtful expression. “I’ll train you to close. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing, if I ask you to take my shift, you drop whatever you’re doing and take it.”
You shift your jaw to the left, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You expected worse.
“And you don’t tell Jillian or Satoru you took my shift. I keep the money.”
Ah. There’s the ‘worse’ you expected.
Frowning, you give the nerves in the pit of your stomach a moment to settle over making a deal with the devil. You want to say figuratively but you aren’t so sure. “Fine.” You extend your hand, but the man shakes his head, frowning.
“Rules first, then we shake.” He holds up his pointer. “Don’t tell a soul. Not even your friends back home.” Another finger. “No kissing. No making out. No sex.” He holds up a third finger. “This isn’t a little romantic fantasy thing. This isn’t a relationship. Don’t call this shit friends with benefits or fuck buddies, either. We’re not friends. Don’t expect anything cute from me. Got that?”
You don’t bother holding back a scoff. “I wasn’t going to, trust me.”
He smirks, unbothered. “Good.” His hand extends first this time.
For a long moment, you stare. You contemplate your life choices. You debate just ignoring your fears with Satoru and praying you can play the role of having experience. You equally contemplate just telling him you have no experience and that you’re nervous.
But somehow, the way nerves churn your stomach makes the butterflies worse. You want to squash them. You want to impress Satoru.
And you know. You know it’s stupid. You know you shouldn’t have to impress him, but the heart and mind don’t always connect, do they?
Against your better judgement, you clasp hands with him. You go to do the actual motion of a handshake but he keeps your hand in place. When your gaze raises to meet his in a silent question, he’s scrutinizing every little movement in your features.
His expression doesn’t hold the condescension you expect. His gaze is devoid of amusement, fixated on the frown you bear. “You really sure about this?”
You don’t hesitate to nod.
His eyes narrow a sliver. “Well, aren't you full of surprises?” There’s that hint of assholery. “One more rule.” His hand remains unmoving, still clasped with yours as he holds your gaze. “Either of us can shut this down at any time. It still never gets mentioned.”
You nod. “Agreed.”
Finally, he goes through with shaking your hand. “When are you looking to start?”
Your nose wrinkles at the way he makes it sound. “Do you have to say it like it’s a– I don’t know, job or something?”
“Oh, my bad,” he sneers, his grin too proud. “When do you wanna get fucked?”
You shouldn’t have asked.
Pulling your hand away from him, you rub your temples. You’re definitely not about to prod any further, lest he get more vulgar. “I’m free ton–”
“Not tonight,” he interrupts. “I got someone coming over to study.”
Scheduling ahead doesn’t sit right with you either. “Can we just decide during shifts? See how we’re feeling?”
“Whatever suits you,” he shrugs. The mild arrogance to his tone is… another can of worms to unpack, but as your colleague turns back to his studies, you only have one question for yourself.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
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౨ৎ a/n ; i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of what will be a VERY kinky series LOLOL. i'm having a lot of fun with these two so far and i hope you are too <3
as a note, i'm trying moving tags to another blog which some of you may have seen due to changes in how tumblr's bot detection system is working, so please bear with me while i figure out how to not get my account flagged while doing taglists 🙃 edit; it's not working. if you weren't tagged, bear with me while i try to figure it out :')
what you know - post-series oneshot
the six-year old comedian
❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [completed series]
❝ a collection of what you would consider the funniest moments interacting with your boyfriend's youngest brother. from ducks to mosquitos and mall fountains to strange sculptures, you treasure the moments that make you laugh. ❞
❦ cw ; mdni. takes place after the events of what you know. crack. family fluff. established relationship. mentions of vomit.
❦ words ; 6.4k.
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The world is easier these days with you by Sukuna’s side. His patience has been drawn out and his frustrations quell more soundly. Choso is more open, and Yuji– well, truthfully not much has changed, but Sukuna has grown to appreciate the kid’s ability to be accidentally hilarious. He still doesn’t like being the subject of the joke, which he so often is, but now that he operates on much higher averages of sleep, he’s come to appreciate his little brother’s rambunctiousness far more.
There are days where he probably shouldn’t laugh, but someday he’s sure Yuji will look back on it and laugh too.
“Gimme some, gimme some, gimme some, gimme–” Yuji holds his hands out to the eldest brother at the edge of the pond, the warm breeze ruffling his hair as he pushes up onto the tips of his toes.
“Hold on, hold on, brat.” Sukuna holds a bag of peas well out of reach of the grubby hands reaching for it. When the boy jumps expectantly, unrelenting, Sukuna clicks his tongue. Your poor boyfriend may have more patience these days, but Yuji still knows just how to push his luck. “Stop, Yu.”
“I wanna give some to the ducks!” He insists at the eldest’s feet.
The scowl on Sukuna’s face is unmatched, still completely typical of him as his brother pushes his buttons. You could step in, but Yuji is truthfully good with manners when it counts and you’re fairly sure he’s prodding at Sukuna because he knows he can get away with it.
While Sukuna may only admit from time to time that Yuji’s funny, you’ll admit it any day.
And Choso at your side is smiling at the sight too, so who are you not to let them be brothers?
Huffing out a sigh, Sukuna finally manages to open the bag, which draws a few avian onlookers at their feet. A mallard with gorgeous green head feathers quacks as it shakes its tail of water and makes its way to the two brothers.
Momentarily distracted, Yuji’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he stares at the bird. He reaches his hand out, but for as brave as the bird is, it’s still a bird. It turns on its heel to slip away, but Yuji is undeterred as his insistence with Sukuna intensifies. “Kuna they want the peas, pleaaaase can I have some!”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He hisses, his brows drawn together as he twists the bag so as not to drop the remaining peas. Holding both the bag and the fistful of peas intended for Yuji over the little boy’s head, he fixes him with a hardened frown. “Yuji. I’m not givin’ you shit until you calm down.”
The little boy pouts, his arms falling to his sides as he stares up at his older brother pleadingly. “Pleaseeee, Kuna?”
“You done bein’ a brat?”
The little boy nods adamantly. A lie, and everyone knows it, but Sukuna relents regardless.
“Hold out your hands.”
Obeying his older brother’s instructions, Yuji cups his hands to hold the pile of peas. Satisfied that he finally gets to feed the ducks, he turns to the small gathering of feathered creatures. Three ducks have already figured out food is incoming and keep a reasonable distance as they approach. Yuji fiddles with the peas before ultimately deciding to hold out the end of his shirt and dump them in there so he can pass them out one at a time.
The first few ducks are relatively patient and their happy quacks have you grinning as Sukuna leaves Yuji be so that he can distribute peas to you and Choso next. The sheer amount of ducks piling up on the late spring pond shore has you all gleeful as the older of the two kids makes his way to his little brother, kneeling down to begin feeding the ducks.
“Dunno where he gets that shit from, but it drives me crazy sometimes,” Sukuna mutters as he reaches your side, his arm brushing your shoulder.
Withholding your smirk to the best of your ability, you shrug as you take a handful of peas for yourself, tossing some to a duck with a tuft of feathers sticking out atop its head. “Yeah, who knows.”
The teasing lilt to your tone has your boyfriend pinning you in place with a side eye, but it only serves to make your laughter finally boil over. You let out a joyful yelp as Sukua uses his free hand to try to catch you by the waist, but you barely manage to slip out of his grasp. Stumbling a short distance away, you turn to face him with a grin that disarms him as all tension drains from his expression. It slips away like rain over the river’s bank.
His scowl softens into something reverent as he watches you keel over. He tries to keep a knit in his brow, something to disprove anyone if they were to say he’s down bad, but anyone can see the truth. He rolls his eyes, turning back towards his little brothers in an effort to keep his casual disposition.
They’ve amassed quite the crowd of feathered friends, all joyously quacking as peas are tossed at them. Yuji laughs heartily and holds his palm out as they greedily eat what’s left in his hand. With none left, the youngest brother tries to push through the crowd, but at his short height, he can’t step over or through them.
Completely stuck and out of peas– unbeknownst to the ducks– the crowd begins to narrow in on Yuji. So much so, that they even separate him just enough from Choso that the little boy begins to panic. Beaks are at his hands and knees, pecking at him for more food, and the little boy’s face twists from excitement to the beginnings of a full-blown meltdown.
He tries backing away, but there are more ducks behind him, his lip wobbling as he holds his hands out and tries to shuffle through the crowd. Tears brim his eyes, and sobs break out when one of the ducks flaps its wings in the midst of the crowd.
Sukuna, watching Choso dust his hands off and step through the ducks as best as he can, quickly whips his head towards Yuji at the sound of sobs.
Unfortunately for the youngest, Sukuna chose to be a brother first today, and a parent second.
… and the sight of thirty harmless ducks all chasing after Yuji is hilarious.
Sukuna snickers at the sight, moving after the boy with the casualty of someone who knows there’s no real trouble as he pulls out his phone. Your head whips around just as fast, but when your boyfriend doesn’t do anything, you shoot him a disapproving frown and chase after Yuji.
“What?” He calls from behind his phone’s camera as you move past him. “He’s fine. He’ll think it’s funny someday.”
As you still move past him to save his little brother, he sighs and moves into action. His long legs carry him ahead of you, where he scoops Yuji up and pulls him from under his shoulders, over the ducks, and carries him to a bench. The little boy stands sobbing with arms hanging at his sides and feathers sticking to his pants.
Finding your boyfriend’s side, you lightly smack his arm to convey your feelings. He huffs, but pulls the youngest into his chest. “You’re good, Yu. The ducks won’t hurt you, they just thought you had more food.”
“They chaseeeed meeee,” he sobs, ruining Sukuna’s black muscle tee as his words are muffled into it.
You nudge your boyfriend again when he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a telltale sign that he’s doing what he can not to laugh. His narrowed gaze briefly shoots to you, but he relents. “But they didn’t hurt you, right?”
Yuji pulls back slightly, sniffling as he stares up at his brother. “No.”
“‘Cause you’re big and strong, right?”
“Just like your brother,” you chime in at Sukuna’s side.
Yuji’s sobs subside as he glances at you, then back to the oldest brother. Choso has quietly found his way to your side as well, watching everything go down. With a sniffle, Yuji finally finds his footing, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Just like Kuna,” he echoes the sentiment, nodding. It’s the one thing that never fails to bring Yuji back to the present, continuing to think the world of his older brothers.
He holds his hands out expectantly for you to pull him into your arms. As much as he’s getting too big for you to carry for long periods, you can’t say no to the sweet kid. You hoist him up onto your hip, giving him a tight hug as you carry him back to the pond where the ducks have dissipated.
“You’re mean sometimes still,” you hear Choso behind you, earning a click of Sukuna’s tongue.
“None of you have a sense of humor.”
Still, Choso manages to get an apology out of Sukuna– as measly as it is– who then makes his way over to you and Yuji at the pond’s shore, ruffling the youngest’s hair as he kisses the crown of your head.
“Sorry,” he murmurs in your ear.
Someday, though, you all will look back on this moment and laugh.
Though, there are times when Sukuna definitely shouldn’t laugh. No matter how funny things are.
But really, who are you to judge him when you can’t keep a straight face either?
Ever since starting the first grade, Yuji has been complaining non-stop about his teacher. Now to some degree, you can understand why the little boy might struggle. After all, it’s the first time he’s been in a classroom setting that’s a bit more true-to-form than Kindergarten, his attention span isn’t phenomenal, and he’s a chatterbox.
The problem here being that his teacher actually is somewhat unreasonable.
She has rules that you can’t begin to make sense of. The kids aren’t allowed any toys in the classroom, which has been an issue for Yuji who still struggles with sharing here and there. They aren’t allowed to wear shorts, even on hot days. They aren’t allowed to stay inside for lunch, even on particularly cold days. They need their journals signed daily to assure the teacher their parents know what they studied in class.
But most peculiarly of all, they’re only allowed to use the washroom once during the morning and once during the afternoon.
Which is how you and Sukuna end up seated across from the principal in the middle of work for you both. Why both of you? Incompetence, Sukuna had grumbled out. When he didn’t pick up, they left a message, then called you. Now, here you both are.
The room smells of old paper and some sort of solvent– ink, you figure, based on the sheer amount of fountain pens the middle-aged woman has at the edge of her desk. A portrait of the school’s founder hangs slightly off-kilter behind her head as she sits across from you with clasped hands. She seems relatively comfortable seated across from you, but your boyfriend keeps catching glances.
You’ve noticed that a lot more since you began dating. Being a startlingly tall guy with tattoos and pink hair and a glare that could kill tends to do that.
Yuji is ushered in shortly, taking a seat in a third chair they’ve dragged up, one of the orange plastic ones typical of an elementary school. There’s no remorse in his expression– in fact, he bears a very similar scowl to the one your boyfriend has. You have to fight a smile at the sight of the two pink-haired scoundrels with the same expression.
“Can we get on with this?” Sukuna gruffs from beside you, manspreading unashamedly as he leans back in the chair. He glances at his little brother with obvious frustration, but reserves judgement until he’s heard what warranted both of you leaving work.
The principal, undoubtedly not thrilled to be seated against your grumpy and intimidating boyfriend yet again, offers a sympathetic smile, her lips pressed tightly together. “I apologize for the intrusion to your day Mr. Sukuna,” she turns to you, addressing you by last name as well. “Yuji here has gotten himself into a bit of trouble with his teacher,” she begins, leaning forward over the grand wooden desk. It’s the kind of furniture that has you questioning whether the school budget is being used appropriately, but now’s not exactly the time.
Sukuna tosses a narrowed gaze at Yuji, who crosses his arms over his chest obstinately.
“Yuji’s teacher has a number of rules the students must follow in order to keep the large classroom size under control,” she explains. “To ensure she can keep an eye on all thirty kids, she only allows them to use the washroom once during the morning, and once in the afternoon.”
“What?” Sukuna’s lip curls in sheer disbelief.
“Ryo,” you keep your voice low with reassurance. He grimaces, but allows the principal to continue.
“Regardless of your thoughts on the rules,” the principal continues with a grateful smile in your direction. “Yuji caused a bit of a stir among the students.”
Still nothing unusual about that. Although, when you cast a glance in Yuji’s direction, you note that he’s far more pallid than usual. You also had expected him to pipe in by now with his own version of the story. Something is clearly off.
“He had already used his hall pass early this afternoon, and asked to use the washroom again. When his teacher did not allow him, he repeatedly raised his hand to ask, and after five disruptions, he chose to walk out and yell at her.”
You suck in a breath, sighing at the fact that there’s no winning here when you know Yuji shouldn’t have yelled, but his teacher isn’t in the right to begin with.
“That’s not even what happened,” Yuji grumbles under his breath at your side, sounding more and more like his older brother by the moment.
Sukuna, at wit’s end, waves his hand towards Yuji like this situation is all a waste of time and bringing one of you– let alone both of you– has him clinging to his last shred of patience. “What happened, Yu?” He pushes, unimpressed by the whole situation.
“I don’t feel good,” he starts. Sukuna sits up a modicum, wishing they had started with that. “My tummy hurts and I needed to pee again,” he pouts. “She said no every time I asked.”
“So you yelled?” Sukuna frowns, unimpressed by the situation in general, but on the same page as the little boy.
Yuji’s gaze glides to the side, avoiding all three adults in the room. “I asked her again. She kept saying no, so I told her I would pee my pants.”
You exchange a glance with Sukuna, whose entire view on the situation has changed as the obvious humor in a six-year-old yelling about peeing at his desk has you both contorting your faces in an effort not to smile at his expense when his stomach hurts. You bring a hand up to your lips in hopes of covering up your contorted expression.
“She told me I was lying, so I left.”
“What did you say when you left, Yuji?” The principal pushes as though she expects the teacher to somehow still be in the right, given the obvious shift in perspective Yuji’s side of the story brings.
“She asked me where I was going so I turned around and yelled. I said um– I said–” He sits upright somewhat, mimicking the original moment. “I have to PEE!” He holds his stomach now, staring back down at the floor. “Then I left.”
Sukuna brings a hand up over his mouth while you distract yourself with motivational posters on the wall. A snort breaks through Sukuna’s composure, but he recovers quickly. He clears his throat, scratching at the stubble along his chin. Thank god he’s handling it. You can feel the laughter in your damn throat.
Sukuna turns his attention to the little boy. “How’re you feeling now, Yu?”
“Bad,” he whines.
“Alright. I’ll take you home.” He turns towards you, flushed with the effort to not burst into laughter after Yuji’s impression. “You go back to work, princess.”
“Hold on,” the principal stops his process in its tracks with a disgruntled frown. “This behaviour isn’t acceptable and needs to be properly addressed.”
Sukuna, halfway risen with a palm pressed to the armrest, casts you another glance. You shrug, in agreement that this entire situation is ridiculous and more than willing to let Sukuna handle it in whatever way he sees fit.
With your agreement that he’s in the right, he rises to his feet. You’re positive he only does it because he knows he’s imposing when he stands over someone and he’s trying to make a point quickly. “Look, the kid’s not feelin’ well and that rule makes no sense,” he points out. “Just let me take him home and tell his teacher I said he can use the washroom whenever he wants.”
The principal opens her mouth in what you’re certain will be a retort as you rise to your feet, tugging your purse up with you when Sukuna interrupts again.
“If she doesn’t like it, she can suck it up. He’s six,” your boyfriend points out. “He can apologize for yelling, but I’m not making him apologize for something that isn’t a damn issue.” The principal is silent as Sukuna ushers both you and Yuji out with a hand on your lower back and Yuji’s head, respectively. “Don’t waste my time,” he grumbles.
The principal makes one last attempt to save face but it’s futile as the door shuts behind you and her sentence is clipped short.
Sukuna’s hand shifts from your back to the side of your arm opposite him as he pulls you into his embrace. His voice is in your ear as he speaks, low. “Sorry they dragged you here too.”
“I don’t mind,” you lean into his touch, basking in his warmth.
“I was just finishing up that client presentation. They called right before it ended.”
“How’d it go?” You query, peering up at him with intrigue.
“I think the client likes the second batch of logo proofs. I should find out tomorrow.”
Yuji clutches his stomach, moving out of Sukuna’s reach towards your car as he spots it. He rounds it to the side where his car seat is, waiting for help to get buckled in.
You stop just short of the car to face Sukuna. “That’s great, baby!” You push up onto your toes to press a kiss to his chin. His eyes crinkle at the corners as large hands effortlessly find your waist.
“Shit, I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I can just picture him turning around and yelling at the teacher,” he smirks.
You barely restrain a smile by biting your lip with a shake of your head. “I’ve been telling you he’s funny!”
“Every time you tell me that, it’s when he’s comparing me to a fucking mammoth.”
You hold your hand out at him like you’re presenting further evidence to your point, fighting a smile.
With an unimpressed but unquestionably warm scoff, he pulls you into his chest by the back of your head. He might play it off like he doesn’t find it funny, but you hear his chest rumble beneath your ear while you laugh into the warmth of his button-up.
When he finally releases the back of your head, your hands rest on his chest while you peer up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’m working from home today, so I don’t need to go back to the office. Did you want to head back to your office?”
He sighs, contemplating his reply with a glance at the spot where Yuji is waiting, although he can’t see the boy behind the car. “If you can handle him, then–”
The sound of wretching has him stopping dead in his tracks as you collectively turn to face Yuji. It’s barely a moment before the little boy is dragging himself from behind the car, clutching his stomach with teary eyes. “Daaaad,” he whines, sniffling. “I threw up.”
Sukuna sighs in spite of the way his chest tightens with emotion at the seldom-heard title. “I’ll come home,” he mutters, kissing the top of your head before moving to deal with his sick brother. “C’mon Yu, let’s get you home and cleaned up.”
Then, there are the times where Sukuna won’t laugh, which tends to be the times that have you laughing uncontrollably.
“Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna–”
“What, Yuji?” Sukuna sighs as the kid practically has his older brother dragging him by the hand through the mall. You can’t even blame the younger Itadori too much, because in fairness your boyfriend is big enough to be a jungle gym.
“Can we go back and get that Sonic backpack?”
“You already have a backpack.”
“Yeah, but not a Sonic one,” the kid points out, standing upright to prove a point to the eldest.
Choso smiles at your side as they bicker ahead of you, but returns to your conversation as you contemplate what his friend might like for her birthday. “She just started to get into makeup,” Choso muses.
“We could check out a few stores,” you agree. “Do you think she’d be more into that than a toy or game? It’s pretty expensive so we might not be able to get a lot for her.”
“She also really wants a Sleep Token hoodie,” he offers, looking to you for price guidance.
You tilt your head from side to side. Her taste in music from what you’ve heard is similar to Choso’s, and his band merchandise doesn’t tend to run cheap. “We could probably either get her the hoodie, or a couple of pieces of makeup.”
The older of the two kids fiddles with his nails as he thinks it over. “Can we look at the hoodie first? Maybe it’s on sale?”
You nod your approval, smiling warmly at the sweet boy’s genuine compassion towards choosing a gift for his best friend. “The store’s just up–”
Splash!
You blink as you point towards the store just ahead, stopping dead in your tracks at the realization that Yuji has just plopped himself straight into the water feature in the center of the mall walkway, which should probably have guard rails but doesn’t.
As a result, your boyfriend– who must have been caught off-guard– has been splashed with water up to his waist, and his little brother is now soaked.
Choso has already turned around as he starts laughing, walking in the other direction to save himself from Sukuna’s wrath. Smoke may as well be coming from his ears at this point, but before the kettle even boils over, you burst into laughter too.
You can’t be sure whether you or Yuji will face his fury first when he faces you with a fiery glare that flickers back to his little brother.
“Yuji,” he hisses, channeling every ounce of anger management he’s ever learned as he drags the little boy from the water. Yuji doesn’t do much in the way of helping, letting his brother drag him as he stares at the water pooling on the ground below him. “What did I say?”
You cover your mouth, moving away to join Choso as you both laugh against the wall, letting the two brothers figure things out on their own.
“I knew that was gonna happen,” Choso chuckles with a wide grin that has you unable to hold back your own laughter.
“Why didn’t you say something?” You nudge him.
Choso fights a smile unsuccessfully. “I thought Kuna had it under control. Did you not see how hard Yuji was pulling against him?”
“I was thinking about Hana’s gift!” You defend yourself.
Choso quietly chuckles at your side as you two laugh at Sukuna’s expense while he scolds Yuji, who is now soaked to his stomach in fountain water. The whole situation is heartwarming, truthfully. A year ago, Choso very well might have shut down at this interaction, because Sukuna would likely have lost his temper and the entire thing would have resulted in a fight.
Now, your boyfriend– although still short-fused– knows what to spend his energy on and what lessons can be learned through a little cold air.
“Now who’s gonna fuckin’ freeze when we go outside, huh?”
Yuji pouts, rambling off another apology as you and Choso approach. “Can I have your jacket?” The little boy pleads.
“Fuck no,” Sukuna frowns, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re gonna learn your lesson.”
Mirroring his older brother’s expression, Yuji refuses to look at him. “You said a bad word.”
“You jumped in a fountain.”
Two peas in a pod, really.
“Come on, we’re going to the car,” Sukuna points back the way you came. “You don’t get to walk around like this.”
Continuing to pout as he trudges away from the three of you, Sukuna glares at you and Choso. Pinned in place by searing red eyes, you would think you might find yourself scared. But your boyfriend isn’t as intimidating as he seems once you break through all the walls and find out how gooey he is underneath.
You bite your lip to stifle your laughter.
“I’m dumping you two in the fountain next if I hear another fuckin’ laugh from either of you,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes further as Choso buries his face in his hoodie.
“Go find the hoodie, I’ll meet you there,” you murmur to Choso, urging the middle brother ahead. Eyeing the soaked side of Sukuna’s pants where water splashed and now drips to the mall floor from the hemmed bottom, you shake your head. “He got you good, huh?”
“At this rate, he’ll give me a fucking heart attack before I’m thirty.”
You can’t help a giggle, but you reach into your pocket for your keys regardless. “Go take him home before you both get a cold. Can you pick Cho and I up in a bit?”
Pressing the heel of his palm into his temple, he sighs. “Yeah. How’s four?”
“That works! I love you, Kuna.” You squeeze his bicep, making a point to avoid the soaked side of his pants.
He huffs. “Love you too, princess.”
For as good as Sukuna has gotten with the kids, you can’t blame him for being frustrated when that’s not even the worst of the times that he finds himself with his head in his hands because Yuji has no regard for others. Or himself, really.
No, the worst of the times? That was during a walk through the local park on a warm summer day. Sukuna had pulled out his skateboard, offering to teach the youngest to skate, while helping to refresh Choso’s memory.
“That’s it, now tilt your feet and lean with the motion to turn!” Your boyfriend calls out to the brunette.
Choso’s tongue sticks out as he tilts his feet forward while the board slows as it takes the corner. He nearly runs off the path into the grass, but recovers just quickly enough that he makes the turn and manages to keep his speed with another push as he manages to straighten out. The young teen’s head whips towards Sukuna for approval, who offers a nod.
“How much did you two board when you were kids?” You query at Sukuna’s side, keeping an eye on Yuji playing with chalk by a nearby bench.
His large palm subconsciously finds your hip, kneading the plush of your skin absently from over your shorts. “Toji n’ I were out daily. Cho came on weekdays usually when Dad was busy. He would skate–” he shrugs, “dunno, an hour or two a week?”
“He’s doing pretty good for only a couple of hours a week like five years ago,” you muse.
“Yeah, but he’s a punk rocker now,” he smirks, “it comes with the territory.”
Humming along with your boyfriend, you watch proudly as Choso doubles back, picking up speed as his confidence increases.
“Do you still want that Green Day board?” You ask as he rolls on past you both.
He slows to a halt, his shoe scuffing the pavement as he drags the board by its front trucks back to where you’re standing. He nods excitedly, a little gleam in his eyes that has you unable to hold back your glee. His birthday is coming up soon enough that you’re more than happy to spoil what his gift may be if it makes the quieter of the kids happy.
Sunlight beats down on you all from high in the sky, a sheen of sweat forming along your spine as the afternoon gets warmer by the minute. The heat is clearly getting to your boyfriend as well, but you can’t deny that the way his muscles gleam under the sun is hot.
You suppose those are tonight thoughts, though.
“Kunaaaa!” Yuji excitedly attracts attention now that the board’s been brought back. “Can you teach me now?”
“Go get your helmet,” Sukuna urges.
With a cheerful exclamation, Choso takes his helmet off to fix his hair, setting it on the bench a short distance away where Yuji grabs his helmet. They exchange some words before Yuji is positioned before you both. You help him with elbow and knee pads while Sukuna adjusts the board’s trucks to accommodate the small boy.
“Try that out, Yu.”
Yuji hops on the board, using his kneeling brother’s shoulders to help balance as the board tilts back and forth. “Is this right?”
“Tilt your feet towards me. Good. Now tilt them back.” With one more minor adjustment, Sukuna has Yuji repeat the motion and nods. “That looks good. Hop off and I’ll make sure the wheels are good.”
The little boy rocks on his heels back and forth while you chat with Choso. He watches the birds and bugs breeze by on the warm day when suddenly his motions stop, a concentrated look coming over his face. He lifts his hand and holds it in the air briefly before shamelessly smacking Sukuna’s cheek. The eldest completely freezes, wide-eyed and incredulous. Before he has a chance to process what just happened, Yuji peels a dead mosquito off Sukuna’s cheek, proudly presenting it to him like a cat presenting a dead mouse.
Still reeling over what just happened, your boyfriend blinks, staring down at the mess of guts that’s now half in Yuji’s hand and half on his cheek, surely. His frustration takes a moment to catch up, just as your laughter does, from where your hands are over your lips in shock at the whole situation.
Letting out a prolonged sigh, Sukuna heavily drags his hand over his features and holds it there. Head still in his hand, he holds out his free hand, allowing the child to dump the dead bug on his palm. “Great. Thanks, brat.” Disbelief, shock, and barely-restrained frustration all coil together into a strange low tone tinged in the kind of weariness that comes from raising a kid like Yuji.
“You’re welcome, Kuna!” He grins, hopping away into the shade to wait while his brother finishes adjustments on the board.
Sukuna, on the other hand, has not recovered from– humiliation? Frustration? Who knows what it should be branded.
Through your stifled laughter, you set a hand on his back where he’s still kneeling, keeled over now. “Kuna?” You breathe between giggles.
“Don’t,” he grumbles, muffled behind his own hand.
When that sends Choso over the edge, the middle brother laughing behind you, Sukuna finally raises his head to glare. “Quit laughing before I agree to chaperone your school dance,” he growls from where he’s kneeling.
Choso bites the inside of his cheek, his face contorted as he does everything in his power not to laugh.
You, on the other hand, don’t care. “You okay, baby?” You ask between airy chuckles.
He huffs, his head hanging again. “I’m fine,” he grumbles through gritted teeth, finally pushing to his feet. The sight of his cheek, slightly red, and noticeably covered in squished bug, has you biting your lip in order to not further humiliate the brute.
“You um, have a little–” you motion to his cheek, coughing to cover up your giggles.
He grunts, lifting the hem of his muscle shirt to wipe his cheek. Your gaze dips for a second, before innocently finding his eyes once again as he looks to you for approval.
“Got it,” you grin.
“Can you just–” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need a moment.” He steps closer to the pond at the center of the park, staring out at the water with a forlorn expression.
Poor guy.
But Sukuna’s most fond Yuji moment? The moment he proudly brings up?
That has to be Yuji’s first really big art project.
All week you’ve been hearing about it. They’re using clay. They’re choosing a subject to sculpt from a magazine and putting together a whole fact board about their subject. Yuji’s putting his entire heart into the project.
As the art show approaches by the day and Yuji continues to hype up how excited he is and tell you all about this creation that he won’t go into detail about, your expectations rise with every conversation.
The school art show has you pridefully holding the young boy’s hand as he drags you to the elementary school doors. Choso is with Hana for the night, and Sukuna trails a short distance behind you with hands thrown into his pockets. It’s no secret that your boyfriend is imposing, all six feet and eleven inches of muscle and scowls lumbering through the halls like a bear among deer, but he’s grown accustomed to the surprised glances he tends to get.
He’s never far behind you however as Yuji drags you through the crowd, passing through the paintings and collages from other classes, until you reach the section where his class put together a number of sculptures.
Now, you do have to remind yourself that they’re six. There’s a range of skill levels for sure, but they’re broadly what you’d expect. Lions with pointy manes made of toothpicks and eyes too big for their heads. Tea pots with spouts that flop. Birds with actual feathers lodged into the clay. Spaghetti that’s terrifyingly orange. An old computer that’s honestly just a beige cube.
It’s all here, and it warms your heart how much effort these kids all put into their projects. Yuji drags you from aisle to aisle, admiring the art as he points out the ones that belong to his friends– a hammer and a popstar.
And finally, towards the end of the second aisle, you come to Yuji’s.
It pulls the air straight from your lungs.
An art board is decorated with various magazine pages and printed photos of his model: a caterpillar with brown coloring. It’s a cute little thing, and you can see why he chose it.
And the sculpture?
For lack of a better word, it’s a brown log. A piece of poop, if you will.
Sukuna coughs behind you, turning around to cough into his elbow. The fit lasts too long as you struggle not to laugh while he leaves you hanging.
You choke on your own spit, a less dramatic coughing fit of sorts. Once you’ve composed yourself, you ruffle Yuji’s hair. “That’s amazing, honey!” You manage, genuinely proud of your own restraint. He grins brightly, peering up at you, before turning his concern to his brother who’s keeled over, catching his breath.
“Is Kuna okay?”
“Don’t worry about him,” you reassure the sweet boy in an effort to divert all attention away. “I think we both just inhaled some dust over here.”
“Oh,” he blinks. “Okay!”
When Sukuna finally stands upright, tears in his eyes, he swallows hard. His voice is a wheeze when he replies. “That’s my favorite project so far, Yu.”
If there’s one thing you can say for sure, it’s that Sukuna’s not lying. There’s genuine joy in his voice as he stares in disbelief at the art project you’ve been hearing about for hours on end this week. Yuji’s masterpiece of a work of art.
And a masterpiece it is.
“You like it?” Yuji beams, bright and excited as he clings to Sukuna’s arm.
“Yeah,” he gruffs through the strain of suppressing laughter, covering the effort up with another cough. You give him a pointed look as he nearly laughs again, nudging his shin with the back of your heel. “I love it, Yu. We’re putting it somewhere special, for sure.”
And of that, Sukuna was also not lying. Long into Yuji’s teens, after Choso has moved out and the signs of age start to show in the tattooed brute’s mellowed mannerisms, it’s still one of Sukuna’s favorite topics. You can’t decide whether he brings it up in the ‘annoying older brother’ kind of way, or the ‘proud father showing off a fish he caught’ kind of way, but at the end of the day Yuji will still groan at the teasing.
At fourteen years old, his friends are coming over for dinner and in preparation, Sukuna does his part.
The caterpillar makes its way to the center of the dining room table, the eldest’s favorite talking piece. It’s long-since cracked and needed minor repairs after many arguments held between the bickering brothers, but at its core it’s still the masterpiece created eight years prior.
Dashing for the sculpture, the youngest is caught in a headlock before he can grab it. “Sukuna, pleaaaaase!” He pulls at his brother’s arm, but it’s to no avail.
“My house, my rules,” Sukuna rebuttals with an amused snort, spinning Yuji away from the table in an effort to defend it. He only releases his little brother once he’s positive he can defend the embarrassing piece of Yuji’s history with his life.
“It’s embarrassing!”
“It’s a work of art,” the eldest declares with a sharp and smug grin that age has never dulled.
Sukuna was right about one more thing, too.
It took many years, but in his teens, Yuji does begin to look back on the duck incident fondly. And the photos? Those had even him laughing.
main masterlist || series masterlist
❦ a/n ; hiiiii everyone!! i missed this fam too much and had so many funny little ideas that i wanted to put together for yuji, the little comedian that he is. i hope you enjoyed this fluffy little tidbit <33
shoutout to the tiktok an anon sent like a year ago that inspired the mall moment, a post that inspired the sculpture, and my elementary school friend who inspired the moment where yuji gets in trouble with his teacher. and the ducks? that's my first memory 😭 (i promise yuji laughed at those photos, I WOULD KNOW)
❦ taglist ; CLOSED. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be removed.
Insecurity strikes after becoming a new mom when your normally horny as fuck husband hasn't tried to lay a finger on you since having a baby.
WC: 1.6k. TW: pregnancy and babies, suggestive at the end
“Okay, she’s down,” your husband sighs, shutting your bedroom door behind him. He briefly glances your way as he tugs his faded t-shirt off and tosses it on the floor.
All these years later and the sight of the black ink winding across his toned body still takes your breath away. He’s always been hot with his shredded physique and tattoos that seem to accentuate every dip and valley of those muscles.
But nothing could have prepared you for how you’d feel seeing him be a dad.
His unwavering confidence and arrogant demeanor was what he was known for, and a part of you loved that about him. He’d never back down from a challenge, always willing to put in the work to learn and succeed at anything.
Even parenting.
The first time he went to hold his newborn daughter was one of the few times you’d ever seen him hesitate. However, since that moment, he took every chance he could to secure her in his arms, determined to rid himself of whatever trepidation plagued him that day. Holding her in different ways and angles, loosely, tightly, trying anything and everything to learn what this little brat preferred.
He’d be damned if he ended up like one of those men who expected their woman to do everything just because he was “uncomfortable” or “not maternal.”
“I’m not some weak-minded man,” he’d spat at one point when you’d said you could take over if he felt unfit to do a task. “I’ll figure it out and get over it. No weaponized incompetence here.”
Attraction to him that you thought has plateaued only swelled during the last four months.
But, lately you’d wondered if his attraction for you had tapered off. Historically, he’d never been able to keep his hands off of you…even while pregnant he’d happily obliged when your sex drive was insatiable.
It didn’t help that you felt like a stranger in your own body. You couldn’t miss the stretch marks that stared back at you every time you got changed and the extra weight that hadn’t seemed to budge still kept you in clothes that were larger than the pre-baby days.
The doctors had cleared you to be intimate months ago and you were fully expecting him to jump you that night. All you’d heard about was women complaining that their husbands were badgering them for sex, but yet, yours never initiated. Your husband seemed perfectly content to abstain. In fact, you have never once detected a hint of resentment from him.
Hell if anything your boobs were bigger than ever considering you were breastfeeding. He’d still snuggle and hold you, but his hands never wandered and his kisses never pushed the limits.
Even if you weren’t feeling up to it, it would still be nice to feel wanted. Desired.
Sukuna sets up the baby monitor on his nightstand before flopping down next to you.
“Did she go down okay?” you ask.
“Kinda. We’ll see, she seemed a little restless but after a few laps around the house she fell asleep in my arms,” his deep voice answers, turning to look at the monitor as if to reassure himself of his answer.
Sleeping peacefully, just like he expected.
Sukuna picks up his book from the nightstand, scooting closer to you and propping himself up against the headboard. The heat of his muscular arm against yours made your skin prickle, but other than that, you go back to reading your own book.
You try to keep your mind from spiraling back to that dark place of insecurity, but after reading the same page three times, you realize it's hopeless. Closing your book, you lay it back on your nightstand.
Laying in silence, you feel your mood start to deteriorate.
“Are you still attracted to me?” you blurt out after a few moments.
You’re met with silence at first and you begin to panic, regretting speaking such a thing out loud!
But then the fabric of his pillow rustles as he turns his head. You’re met with a pair of narrowed, crimson eyes and a furrowed brow that you can’t interpret as annoyance or confusion.
“What?” he mutters.
You just stare back at him, trembling at the intensity in his stare. He can be an intimidating and scary man, normally not to you, but you’ve seen others cower in his presence.
“Answer me, what did you say?” he presses, closing his book and tossing it aside.
“I said, are you still attracted to me?” your voice wavers just a little.
“Of course I am, you’re my wife-”
“That makes it sound like an obligation,” you interrupt him.
Sukuna scoffs, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one arm. The tattoos on his torso are tight against his pecs, looking hotter than ever as the sheets pool around his waist.
“What is this nonsense you’re spouting at me?” He sounds irritated now. “Out with it, stop these cryptic messages because even though I’m an elite sorcerer, I can’t read your mind woman and you know this.”
Swallowing hard, you start fidgeting with the blanket, pulling it even tighter over you like it’ll somehow protect you from your husband's directness.
“You haven’t tried to have sex with me once since the baby was born. It’s weird and very unlike you. Including the difficult end of my pregnancy, it’s been over five months now. When have you ever gone five months without anything sexual since knowing you?”
He just stares at you, jaw clenching as his mouth forms a tight line.
“I mean, I get it, I look so different now compared to before, and I realize I haven’t exactly been keeping up with my appearance. I understand if it’s not what you prefer for a woman, you’re such an attractive man and you deserve better and-”
He’s on top of you so fast that you feel his weight on you before you even see him move. Fucking sorcerer speed of his.
“You think I’m not attracted to you? Think I haven’t been wanting to fuck your brains out this whole time?” he growls, barely moving his lips as he speaks through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry! You look mad now,” you squeak in surprise before he cuts you off again.
“Yeah, not at you though. Fuck, never you,” his voice softens, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek with utmost tenderness.
“At myself,” he mutters, lowering his gaze for a brief moment before looking at you again.
Your throat feels dry as you swallow hard. You didn’t expect this to be his reaction.
“You’re mad at…yourself?”
Sukuna lets out a heavy sigh, pink locks falling onto his forehead as he hangs his head.
“Yeah. I am. Mad that I didn’t realize you were feeling this way. Disappointed in myself for letting it get to this point,” his voice cracks as he looks at you with a shimmer in his eyes.
“I’ve never found anyone more attractive in my life than you are to me right now. Watching you fight so hard to carry and give birth to our daughter made me want you more than I thought possible. But now? Seeing you care for her, feed her with your own body, and the way you support and encourage me? It only amplifies every damn day.
“Fuck, I feel guilty with how turned on I get seeing you be a mom every fucking day,” he drags his fingers through his hair, revealing his flushed skin, likely embarrassed at such a heartfelt confession coming out of his mouth.
You feel tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes so you throw your arms around him and bury your face in his neck to try and delay the inevitable waterworks that are threatening to start.
“Then why don’t you ever do anything,” you force out.
His arms wrap around your back, rolling you both over so now you are sprawled out across his chest, causing you to squeal in surprise.
“I-I didn’t want to bother you or put pressure on you. I know the birth wasn’t easy and you had to heal. And the strain you’re under literally using your body to feed her. I’m scared, I don’t want to hurt you. Thought you’d come to me when you were ready,” he holds you tighter as he rambles on, moving one hand to catch the tears that are now cascading down your cheek.
“Your body has never been more perfect to me. How could I ever find disgust in the evidence of you bringing our child into the world? It’s fucking hot baby is what it is, you successfully carrying my child. Knowing your body is what’s nourishing her and helping her grow? I didn’t do any of that, I’m in fucking awe of you every damn day,” he peppers your face with kisses between each word.
Your chest feels like it's swelled to twice its size as the weight of his words settle in.
“I-I had no idea, and now I feel so stupid,” you look up at him through blurry vision.
Sukuna just smirks, a deep blush dusting his cheeks.
“Join the fucking club baby, I feel like a massive idiot right now too,” his voice deepens as he squeezes your ass.
“I mean I’ll fucking ruin you right now if you want,” he groans into your neck as he presses himself against you, making you gasp at the feeling of him hard against your groin.
The moment is quickly interrupted though as a wail breaks out over the monitor.
You both tense up, but then start to laugh, shaking your heads with a smile.
“Your daughter seems to feel otherwise,” you giggle, planting a soft kiss on his lips before rolling off to his side.
“Little cockblocking brat,” Sukuna snickers, sitting up to reveal the damn tent in his boxers.
“I’ll go, you seem…predisposed,” you gesture at his lower half, not missing how he rolls his eyes.
“It’s not going anywhere anytime soon, it’ll be here when you get back,” he drags his hands across his face before falling back into his pillow again.
You lean down to give him a deep kiss before finally pulling away.
“I love you,” you cup his cheek as you stare down at him.
“I love you too, don’t ever question it,” he answers, never taking his eyes off of you as he watches you go.
I have no desire for kids currently but for some reason him being a dad makes me question everything. Thank you for reading!!
꒰ex!gojo x f!reader x new bf!sukuna꒱
a collection of oneshots that can also be read as a continuous story, following each pov ꩜ cw angst, post-break up, hurt no comfort, exes to lovers to exes again, moving on, smut (reader's & sukuna's version), reunion, arguments, each fic has their own warnings
꩜ reader's version if i didn't love you
꩜ satoru's version baby, come back to me
꩜ sukuna's version my love mine oh mine
art creds: sukuna @/r5x9513ros gojo @/tiyu0710
dividers by @pixopix
origamiaround
tangentwithtanner
janainaart
theartofmadeline
2087
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
