hi this is more than likely expected due to my inactivity but i do feel like ive lost the motivation to write—it’s been a hectic year for me & the baseless accusations weren’t the most helpful on my self-esteem. i’m sorry to anyone waiting on any updates. maybe in the future ill pick things back up but for now i don’t think it’s probable. ill keep this blog up for reposting old works and for readers who want any works to access. a massive thank you to all the friends ive made in this lovely and talented community 🙏 ill always be a reader before a writer so there’s plenty of you ill keep up with :-) thank you for an amazing experience and to the readers that showed me so much love, ill never forget it <3
Suguru was always the jealous type, he was oddly patient about it though. He had a way of waiting until everything was exactly where he could see it, exactly where it belonged before he unleashed his silent fury. Tonight was the perfect example.
You were at a bar with friends, the kind of place that always felt a little too loud in the best way—music thumping through the walls, laughter ricocheting off glasses, everyone caught up in the warmth of the night. Suguru was with you, close enough to feel, relaxed enough to look harmless. You were only two drinks in when it happened.
A tall, sable-haired man approached. He didn’t loom like a threat; he came in smiling, bright and easy, like he already belonged in your orbit. His compliments were smooth, his flattery practiced, his questions delivered with the confidence of someone who expected answers.
You were courteous. You gave him the kind of simple, straightforward reactions people gave when they didn’t want to cause a scene. You answered his prodding questions—nothing complicated, nothing sharp—just enough to keep the conversation going without inviting trouble.
And all the while, you didn’t notice the way Suguru’s patience stretched a little thinner, like a thread being pulled slowly until it finally started to threaten snapping.
“What’s your name?” You asked him, “Choso…” he responded, flashing you a bright smile that seared into your eyelids. You could feel them. The pair of seething eyes on you. You shivered slightly and the raven haired man immediately said “you cold? Here— my jacket,” and draped over your bare shoulders his leather jacket.
You turned your head just enough to see Suguru reflected in the bar's dark glass windows.
He wasn't loud. He wasn't storming over. He wasn't moving.
That was what made it worse.
Suguru's smile; if it could even be called that, didn't reach his eyes, his soft crows feet not visible. He stayed where he was with your friends, drink halfway to his mouth, and watched you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Like whoever had approached you had just stepped onto a line he'd drawn.
The tall sable-haired man, leaned in again, too cheerful, too quick with his words.
"So," he said, bright as a blade, "you warmer now?" You swallowed. "I'm fine." "Mm." His grin widened. "You don't sound fine."
“Seriously I’m good, you can take this jacket back—“ you murmured as you slipped it off your body, and handed it back to him. Before you could turn around and walk away, a large palm slid around your waist and pulled you into their side—Suguru.
“Who’s your friend princess?”
“Oh, uh this is Choso… not really a friend I would say—“ you said, voice tight.
“Not a friend?” Choso’s voice slid out like a tease, bright and easy—his eyes practically sparkling as he wore that mischievous smile. “I’m hurt, darling… especially after the amazing conversation we just had?”
You kept your expression sharp as you glared at him, but the words barely had time to settle before something changed against your side.
Suguru’s grip tightened around your waist—grounding and possessive. It pulled you a fraction closer, enough to make your breath catch and your attention snap upward. When you looked at him, you found his eyes already locked in on Choso’s face.
No smile. No warmth. Just a steady, focused intensity that made it impossible to pretend this was friendly banter. Suguru didn’t blink; he didn’t look away. His attention felt like a hand around Choso’s throat.
Choso’s grin faltered just slightly at the way Suguru watched him, but he recovered fast, tilting his head like he could charm his way out of it. As if Suguru’s reaction was just another part of this silly little game.
But you could feel the tension humming under your skin—between Suguru’s hold and Choso’s too-bright confidence—a rope was held, waiting for someone to tug.
“So,” said Choso, voice light but eyes cutting, “is this a friend of yours, pretty?"
The word pretty landed with a deliberate sort of sweetness, the kind meant to sound harmless while it actually drew blood.
You could feel Suguru beside you shift, barely. Just enough to make the space between you feel smaller-like his patience had hit a limit and the rest of him was deciding what to do with it. Your breath caught in your chest when Suguru's hand at your waist tightened, firming into an anchor.
Suguru scoffed-low, sharp, and dismissive, as if Choso's little game bored him.
“Her lover,” Suguru said quietly, voice smooth enough to pass as control rather than emotion. His gaze never left Choso's.
“And you're just a stranger.”
Choso's smile flickered, but Suguru didn't give him time to recover. Suguru hooked his fingers around your hand, he held it firmly as he guided you away as if this had always been the plan.
Still, your attention kept snapping back towards Choso, toward what could’ve happened next, until Suguru's grip tightened around your hand like a warning.
“Come on,” he murmured, leading you deeper into the darker, quieter part of the place, where eyes couldn't reach as easily.
You were both in the single bathroom now, the door closing shut behind you with a click.
Suguru didn't waste time. The moment you turned toward him, his hand caught your jaw and tipped your face up with possessive force. Then his mouth came down on yours—mean and rough, less like a plea and more like staking a claim on your very being. Your lipstick smeared where his lips dragged, and he didn't slow, didn't soften, like he was punishing you.
When he finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven, tan skin flushed that pretty shade of pink. His eyes were fixed on your mouth, your nose, then eyes, as if he was checking that you were still there-still his to hold.
"You looked at him," he said, voice low and sharp. "Like he deserved you. You tried to speak, but his thumb pressed hard against your cheek, making you squeak softly, yet keeping you still and complaint.
"Next time," Suguru murmured, leaning in close enough that you could feel every word, his lips brushing against yours, "don't answer strangers. Don't entertain them.
You don't owe anyone access to you." His gaze dropped to your lips again, then lifted—darker now.
"Or else I'll have to just take my frustrations out on you-" he murmured darkly,
"You know how I get, doll," he said, voice rough with jealous need. "I hate it when filth like that even thinks about coming near something as precious as you; something that's mine." His hands drifted to your hips, pulling you flush against him.
He tightened his hold, definitely not gently, just more deliberate—like he was reminding you he could do worse, and had chosen not to.
"Suguru-" you gasped softly as his head ducked suddenly and his lips attached themselves to your sap-sweet skin. Sucking and biting at your neck. He was definitely leaving deep bruises and bite marks on you.
Your hands found their way to his long locks and tugged softly, a whine escaping your lips.
"Keep making those noises and I'm taking you home..." he says with a chuckle before pulling away.
He stood back and admired his handiwork before saying
"alright— let's get going before everyone starts worrying doll,"
You nodded and smiled softly at him before saying
"always such a jealous man-"
"Only for you."
A/N: this is really rushed, especially the ending but it was a request so I had to get it done! Honestly writing this gave me some more confidence to write even more so (●’◡’●)ﾉ also suguru is so hawt omfg
Tags 🏷️: @raven66551 @lilithkleia @epicderpface hope this is to ur liking bbg💋
all work belongs to @j1hxxn , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!
in the small corners of the tumblr interweb, a certain author strives to keep the old internet aesthetic alive, all while writing about a time-period thousands of years ago. is it nostalgia, or something else? @throughsixeyes sits down with @epicderpface to discuss their stance on generative ai in fandom spaces and how to overcome ai-reliability in creative work.
Tell us where do your ideas come from?
derp: all over! music, movies, books, conversations—everything around me is inspiration :) i unfortunately do not have an overactive imagination, though i really do wish i did, so whenever something inspires me, i quickly write it down and save it for later to expand on or include somewhere. a lot of the fanfiction i consume as well inspires me, with tropes, settings, dynamics, etc. frequently, i’ll be found highlighting favorite lines in iBooks after downloading an ao3 fic or bookmarking favorite pages. it also seems that my best ideas love to come to me when i’m drifting off to sleepyland and am too lazy to jot it down, just to forget about in the morning. MAJOR FACEPALM!!!
What inspired you to start writing?
derp: fanfiction inspired me~! discovering “x reader” fanfiction literally altered my brain chemistry so much so that i needed to get my convoluted and rhapsodic mind out onto a document to expel the jitters. the fandom i initially started writing for was, in fact, a kpop group. specifically BTS! i used to watch jungkook alpha ff imagines on youtube as amv’s or slideshows, and along the way, i found myself over in the jjk community after not writing for a couple years.
What is your writing schedule?
derp: not a very exciting answer but, there isn’t one! i wish i had more free time for my hobbies, but my lifestyle with school and work leaves me quite drained so it leaves me with little time to even think about my works. however, back when i first started writing on tumblr, i could write 5k words a day nearly every afternoon like it was nothingggg. miss it! hopefully when i graduate next year, i’m able to take a thorough break from the school mindset and begin writing more frequently.
What kind of research do you usually do for your fics?
User: it really depends on what i’m writing as i usually don’t need to do research. for my heian era works, i do have to pull up articles to understand the social classes, the setting, commonly practiced religions and lifestyles, the fashion, etc. pretty soon, i do want to attempt a true medieval piece and i think it’ll be fun researching the language and practices for that. i’ve tried my hand at it before but it wasn’t satisfactory for my own expectations. i indulge in a lot of medieval fics and it might be my favorite setting for a fantastical romance.
Do you draw inspiration from other authors, be it on Tumblr or traditional publishing authors?
User: all the time! there are plenty of wonderful jjk writers that i frequently feel inspired and motivated by to open up my documents and jot things down. the jjk writing community, both on ao3 and tumblr, is so full of gifted writers that i almost never fail to learn something new to master my writing skill when i’m reading a work. ahem @/starmapz @/molesbysecond @/indiewritesxoxo @/macbethinchains @/satoruined @/swearimnevergivingup @/kamiflix @/kaevia @/em1lysm @/molesbysecond (thank you for inspiring me oh so much!)
Which tabs are mostly open while writing?
derp: there are 3! number one, ellipsus. i traded google docs for this writing software due to their stance on the use of generative ai in creative spaces, the free accessibility, and the great features—one of which is their SUPER pretty themes i can shuffle through to keep my eyes from hurting. highly recommend and praying they create a mobile app! next, onelook thesaurus. to enhance my vocabulary, it aides to strengthen meaning and add even more depth to my stories. i’ve learned hundreds of words from this website heh. last but not least, mynoise.net. they’ve got some super cool adjustable ambience and soundscapes that you can customize. my mind tends to run from me, and these can help settle it a bit.
How do you deal with writer's block or in any case, writing insecurity?
derp: i take a break when i start getting overly self-conscious of my works (which is surprisingly often). usually, my writing quality decreases significantly when i get too in my head, so i allow the pen to settle and pick it back up when i’m feeling it. it also relieves a lot of stress off of my shoulders and permits me to write on my own time, of my own accord, without any outside stressors. when i do want to write, but feeling stumped, i’ll go back and reread a few chapters of my favorite fics or sort through my tbr for something fresh to get my brain back into the writing mode again.
How much does engagement affect your creative process?
derp: hmmm somewhat? as much as it does to validate the fact that my writing may be more than satisfactory, i did start off writing just to please myself before deciding to share it. notes or tumblr do not make me “write more” but i do think that asks and comments about someone enjoying my work does motivate me to produce more quality work. i like people it when people reach out and tell me all of the things my writing made them feel :)
What are your favorite genres to write besides romance?
derp: angsttttt !!!! writing about a gut-wrenching and heart-cinching problem that the mc must solve is so exciting for me. as i’ve been informed by my readers, i tend to write bittersweet or even unhappy endings far more frequently than i do happy endings.
What is your favorite work until now?
derp: the king’s wife :) it was a bit of an experimental work as the first good chunk doesn’t focus on sukuna x reader, rather reader solving her problems on her own in a world existing around sukuna. responses on the work have been enough to inspire me to make more of my works like that, and it’s so easy for me to pour my love into works that make me feel the most things. i also do feel like i characterized him the best in this story than i have any other story. it is my magnum opus…
What trope is your favorite?
derp: grumpy x sassy (yes, i will bring up sukuna). heian era sukuna, as annoying and rude and arrogant as he is, is no match for his snarky wife. the banter, the berating, the threats—I HAVE SO MUCH FUN WRITING IT! i think it’s easy to work with this trope as well to make it domestic and fluff, or angsty and tragic, and, of course, comedic!
Is there a genre/trope you'd like to see be explored more in the fandom?
derp: even though i feel like i’ve written so much of it personally, it’s heian era. I WILL NEVER BE SICK OF HEIAN ERA!!! even if there’s already hundreds of fics, i will always want more. i feel like there is so much more to dissect about this time and sukuna’s dynamic as well. plus, reader is very customizable during this time. she can be reserved, or louder than sukuna. a servant, or a sorcerer that’s a formidable match for him. the possibilities are truly endless…
What would you like to write more in the future? sfw/nsfw/angst/fluff?
derp: i think i want to take a step back from writing smut and focus on angst-driven and problem-solution plots. a problem i had when i started writing was not wanting to write smut at all, but i found myself writing it a ton when i joined tumblr because i assumed this was the fandom culture. now, i want to write what pleases me which is problem-solution based stories with a love story plot.
Do you outline your stories or not? If you do, how is said process?
derp: i can say with the utmost confidence that i have never outlined a single work in my entire life and managed to complete it. i just start writing and whatever comes out of my brain is usually what sticks to paper. it’s my worst trait as a writer, as i’ve been told. which is also why i have the least confidence in the series’ i write because hey… where are we going? ( i don’t know either but let’s enjoy the ride).
What has been the hardest fic you've written?
derp: hmmm i wouldn’t say any of my works were necessarily hard to write, but the amount of work that goes into some can be grueling! way out there (an archived series of mine) had me researching x-men comics and rewatching the films to include tidbits for readers to pick up on a plot twist. though i see plenty of things i could’ve changed, it was a fic that i hold so dear to me because of how much work i put into it. i also spent nights crying over how much i loved lumberjack!sukuna and city!girl reader but that’s between you and me, friend.
How do you improve your writing?
derp: reading! so many of my mutuals are such adept writers that i learn new things from them all of the time. i also do try to research random things in my life and learn as many words as i can by playing things like the NYT daily games, as much as my schedule allows hehe.
Do you set yourself personal deadlines?
derp: never, i write on my own time out of a fear of turning a hobby into a job. plus, i never stick to them anyway because i am a #certifiedchud.
How often do you read your old works?
derp: not often. if it’s posted on a platform, i’ll reread it if i want to check for grammar mistakes or i’ll sift through old drafts for miscellaneous scene dumps and inspiration. otherwise, i am a chronic avoidant personality. i do not want to revisit it out of fear of finding an insane typo. ignorance is bliss.
What do you think makes a good story?
derp: you can really tell when someone loves their craft with everything in them, it literally bleeds through the words and those end up as my favorites. i’ll read literally anything that someone is proud of. passion is key!
Which is your favorite character and why? (can be outside the jjk story or even outside anime)
derp: sukuna has been at the forefront of my mind for well-over a year now :) i’m not sure what it is that draws me in, whether it’s the gruff and blunt personality or the super hot bod, but he’s all i seem to write for these days. i do owe my life to so many writers out there who’ve introduced me to him in certain lights and au’s that inspired me to write for him. characterizing him also comes surprisingly easy to me, like his sharp tongue and sadistic rituals.
Do you write with music? If so, which songs get you pumped? or do you listen to ambience music or work in silence/outside noise type?
derp: i almost always write with both! i write on my computer for the most part, so i’m able to pull up both the spotify app/soundcloud and mynoise.net to listen to ambience. some songs i listen to are medieval/chinese orchestra for instrumentals, chase atlantic/arctic monkeys/the neighborhood for freaky time smut, and a ton of other random artists for fluff and angst such as hozier, wisp, marina and the diamonds, deftones, sleeping with sirens, ethel cain, bad suns, the 1975, etc.
What is the inspiration behind your theme?
derp: i love this question as someone who changes it frequently … ^^ currently, i’ve been listening to a ton of bladee, yung lean, thaiboy digital, ecco2k (basically all of draingang + sadboys) and their aesthetic has taken OVER my pinterest! just some muted pastels and unicorns and aliens and weeds yup.
Does your culture play a huge part on how you write, and if so, why?
derp: as i tend to write for a mostly blank female reader, i’d say no! i’ve read fics about self-inserts that have characteristics that apply to me, but i’ve yet to write it. it is definitely something i want to try in the future.
What are your honest feelings or opinions on the rise of ai in writing spaces?
derp: i am 100% against it, which i respond to in the next prompt in depth :>
Do you believe it to be unethical to use ai in any step of the writing process? And if so, why?
derp: yes. my top concerns are rooted in authorship, consent, authenticity, and environmental impact. generative ai has been thoroughly trained on different qualities of human-created content, without the explicit permission of the original creators. there is no way to find the true origin of a work through an ai generated response, which is removing credit and consent from writers themselves. rather than producing original work, it throws together existing patterns, ideas, and stylistic elements derived from countless writers and artists in multiple corners of the internet. specifically in creative spaces such as writing fandoms, going forward there are always going to be ethical concerns simply because of how controversial it is. in my eyes, writing should not be valued by merely for the final product, but instead for the human intention. for the human experience and perspective, for the blood, sweat, and tears shed throughout the process. ai-generated text can imitate these qualities, but it will never be us. it can’t replicate the lived experience or creative agency that gives art its meaning. and what’s driving this extra paranoia is due to widespread AI use, it’s undermining trust between readers and writers while simultaneously diluting the value of human craftsmanship. it’s ruining the ecosystem and ruining our livelihood.
IF you are struggling with any step in the writing process, there are so many alternatives before resorting to ai. pick up a book or sort through ao3 tags if you need a prompt. want a setting? there’s a ton of ai-free generator sites and masterposts to find. still at a loss? writing communities and talking to writing friends to work through an obstacle has helped me dozens of times! turn to humans before bots, i promise we are a lot more helpful :)
What is something you had wished people told you while beginning to write?
derp: your first draft of anything you write won’t be perfect or ANYWHERE near that. but stll, just get something down. just keep writing and writing and writing. that is what was the hardest for the perfectionist in me to understand when i was new to writing. it is 100% easier, and more tangible during edits, to write bare bones first before going back to reread it. it keeps the plot consistent as well as cohesive.
Do you have a second favorite besides Sukuna? If so, why and would you write more about said character?
derp: GETO SUGURUUUU he has my heart and he's really my favorite jjk character when it comes to the manga/anime itself. he's someone i can relate to when it comes to struggles with mental health, and his battle with depression during the hidden inventory arc stuck with me. it was also difficult to watch his fall from grace into becoming the worst curse user oh man my heart broke. for some reason, i cannot write for him all that well, however he is my absolute favorite to read for after sukuna LOL! i do want to write for him as much as i can but tbh inspiration rarely strikes.
What do you think of modern day Sukuna characterization? Do you love it, do you hate it, are you in between?
derp: i used to be a modern au sukuna truther for the longest time, but after discovering heian era works, MY MIND WAS CHANGED PERMANENTLY. it's more of an in-between-i will read for him and i enjoy it, but not so much with writing unfortunately. every once in a while will i write for him heh. i don't really enjoy frat au's despite their popularity, i'm a canon lover at heart.
So you tell us you write more on sad and bittersweet endings. Are you ever going to give reader a happy ending in future writings? Surprise your readers with this plot twist? Is that something that has ever crossed your mind?
derp: i really do try … but i am a masochist /j /lh. maybe it's my cynical and pessimistic view on life, but sometimes writing a tragic ending feels more realistic than a happy ending. when it comes to writing series', i at least try to wrap it up positively for the sake of everyone's mental health LOL also i have written a plot twist before and i will say it was a controversial twist that i loved so much.
In your response to generative ai and its unethical uses, in the end paragraph you give great tips, though we see writing communities as one tip to use/venture in, do you know/have participated in any writing communities? And if so which do you recommend people get into?
derp: thank you! i sort of have participated in writing communities with my side-blog for writing help and prompts where i also interact with tumblr communities. very often is it helpful for me to scroll through these when i’m having writers block or want to practice writing a drabble of sorts. i highly recommend it, too! if there are any other tips people have, i’d love to know as a girl always struggling with writers block LOL
What advice would you give new writers or people who are just starting?
User: never stop writing for yourself! never stop loving your characters and favorite tropes and favorite genre’s. we love coming back to what drew us to it in the first place.
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?
main masterlist || series masterlist || next ⪢
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 :')
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