You wake up to sunlight spilling gently across the room and for a moment, you don't know where you are.
Then the ache in your limbs reminds you.
Rin, last night.
You groan softly, shifting beneath the sheets— every muscle humming with the faint soreness of being loved a little too much.
And right on cue, the door creaks open.
Rin steps inside, hair slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose black T-shirt and gray sweatpants. His expression softens the second he sees you awake.
"Hey," he murmurs, his voice low and rough— the kind of morning tone that always makes your heart skip.
You blink sleepily. "What time is it?"
"Almost ten. You should've slept more."
He sets a tray down on the bedside table— a neat breakfast: oatmeal, fruit and a glass of water. But what catches your attention is how he keeps fidgeting with the spoon, avoiding your gaze.
You tilt your head. "You're acting weird."
Rin glances at you— then quickly looks away, a faint blush coloring his ears. "You're sore, aren't you?"
You bite your lip, smiling a little. "Maybe."
His jaw tightens. "I told you to tell me if it was too much."
You chuckle softly. "You were... distracted."
He exhales, running a hand through his hair in quiet frustration. "I got carried away." His voice is small now, almost vulnerable. "You looked tired, and I still—" He cuts himself off, pressing his lips together.
You watch him carefully. It isn't often Rin shows guilt. Usually, he hides it behind silence or a glare. But this morning, he looks openly remorseful— like he can't forgive himself for something as simple as your sore body parts.
"Come here," you say gently.
He hesitates. Then, as if he can't resist, he climbs onto the bed beside you, sitting cross-legged. His hand brushes your hair back, every movement careful—reverent.
"I ran you a bath," he murmurs after a while. "Warm water. I put the oil you like."
You smile. "You didn't have to."
"I did." He leans down, resting his forehead against yours. His breath is soft against your lips when he whispers, "You always take care of me. I should've been gentler."
You cup his cheek. "Rin, it's okay. I'm fine."
But he shakes his head slightly, his eyes flicking away. "You're never fine when I go overboard." His voice cracks on the last word, and that tiny break makes your heart squeeze. "You don't say anything because you don't want me to stop."
You stare at him. "You noticed that?"
"Of course I notice." He looks almost offended, then sighs. "You think I don't pay attention to you? You breathe differently when you're overwhelmed. You hold onto me tighter when you're tired. I know."
You soften, brushing your thumb over his lips. "Then stop feeling guilty. You're taking care of me now, aren't you?"
He goes quiet. His eyes flick down to your hand— then he kisses your palm, slow and lingering.
"Eat something first," he says softly. "Then I'll help you with your bath. I'll wash your hair for you."
You smile teasingly. "You sound like my nurse."
"I'm serious." His tone drops, though the corner of his mouth twitches. "I'll make sure you rest today. No chores, no errands. You stay in bed."
You blink. "You're really worried, huh?"
He looks at you, his eyes softened, his voice quiet. "You mean too much to me not to be."
Then, as if realizing he's said too much, Rin turns his head away again, pretending to reach for the water glass. His ears are red.
You giggle softly, catching his sleeve.
"Rin?"
"...What?"
"I love when you're like this."
He sighs, but his lips curve into the faintest, reluctant smile— that rare one he only ever shows you.
"Yeah, well," he mutters, glancing at you from under his lashes, "don't get used to it."
But you can tell— by the way he tucks the blanket over your legs, by the way he brushes your hair out of your eyes— that he's already hopelessly, irrevocably downbad.
Rating/Warnings: T for Teen, this is wholesome content
Word Count: 1.8k
Summary: Turns out your boyfriend is secretly cheesy. Who knew?
Note: Fluff. I'll be writing a series of stories where the boys first say "I love you," in between my longer fic. This is the first.
Suna is frozen in the doorway of his apartment, amusedly taking in the scene currently unfolding in front of him. You’re in a dress (a new one, he notes. He does notice these things), hair done, desperately fanning the smoke detector with a checkered dish cloth. All the windows are popped open and you’re on the very tips of your toes, brows scrunched in concern.
You don’t hear him enter over the blaring of the alarm, and he has to bite his lip to stop from smiling. He slips his shoes off, dropping his gym bag down by the door, and crosses his arms as he watches you. Despite the frantic noise and mild chaos, his chest warms with the fact that you’re in his home right now. Like he’s coming home to you. He’s never thought of such things before, but he finds himself daydreaming about it often, now that he’s with you. Is it too soon to bring up moving in together? Probably. But he’s learning that the heart can’t help itself sometimes.
Eventually, the high-pitched beeping stops, and you huff in relief, leaning back onto your heels.
“When you said you were going to surprise me with something, I didn’t think you meant setting my place on fire.”
You squeak in surprise and whirl around at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. “Rintarō,” you scold, hand on your chest. “I thought you were an intruder!”
His voice is drawling, playful. “You though I was the intruder? I could hear the alarm going off down the hall.”
You pout, slinging the cloth over your shoulder. “You’re early,” you say. “You’ve ruined your surprise.”
He moves to you, arms slinking around you. “Practise finished early,” he explains, tugging you closer. “Where’s my welcome home kiss?”
You allow him a chaste peck on your lips before turning away. “Wait, wait, dinner’s almost ready. Let me just finish up here.”
Suna frowns. “Let me finish up. I’m not done kissing you.”
“Rin. Sit.” You’re being bossy with your hands on your hips, and he loves it. He tries to pull you in again. “Nope!” You slap his hands away gently. “I’m serious.”
He smirks. “Me too.”
You give him a mock scowl, taking another step back. “Please? Let me just finish dinner and do this romantic thing.”
The idea of you trying to be romantic makes him desperate to kiss you again, but he looks at your determined eyes and relents. Obediently, he moves around the marble kitchen counter and slumps into one of his dining chairs. You’re bustling around the kitchen, clicking off the stove, throwing mixing bowls into the sink. You start humming to yourself quietly, just pieces here and there of a melody Suna can’t recognize, but feels familiar. Everything about you, in his home, feels familiar.
You turn to him, smiling. “Close your eyes.”
“Nah, I’d rather watch you,” he says, and then grins at your scowl. “Fine, fine. Closing them.”
“No peeking!” He hears you say.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he drawls and then covers his eyes with a hand to make a point. You giggle a little, which had been what he was hoping for. He’s this person now, always looking for ways to make you smile.
For the next five minutes he hears a symphony of clinking class, sizzling oils, and your gentle hums. You move around the apartment and Suna, eyes still shut, tries to make out where you are and what you’re doing. Some sounds he can’t place, some he can. A brief rush of air and sound of snapping cotton lets him know you’ve thrown out a tablecloth in front of him. He hears the striking of a match and knows you’re lighting a candle. There’s a pop of a cork and Suna can tell it’s a red you’re pouring. He enjoys it, hearing your little domestic sounds.
All of these little clues, however, don’t prepare him for when you say, “You can open your eyes now.”
He does. He swallows.
The table is covered in red petals, a single candle to the side. A small rack of lamb sits in the centre (it’s charred black in some places, but never mind that) and he can tell you’ve tried to be decorative with the plating and garnish. There’s a card, by his elbow. He looks up at you.
You roll your eyes, anticipating a dry remark. “Yeah, yeah, it’s cheesy, I get it. Humour me.”
But Suna doesn’t have a dry remark. He doesn’t have anything. His mouth opens and then snaps shut. You’ve dimmed the lights, all the edges of you blurred and soft like a mirage. For once, he’s wordless with you.
Your hands are nervously playing with the edge of the tablecloth and you’re standing there, just standing, like you’re waiting for his approval. He’s never seen you shy. His heart doubles over and then grows ten sizes. It fills up his whole chest. “What’s this?” He manages.
You give him a look. “What does it look like, dummy? It’s Valentine’s Day. I made you dinner.” You’re playful but he can sense your hesitancy under your words. This gesture is important and you’re worried he won’t like it. A lump starts to build in his throat, and he tries to push it down. You made him dinner. You’re trying to be romantic. You’re more beautiful than he’s ever seen you.
Unexpected emotions grip him. “You’re so—” he stops, throat tightening.
“Annoying? Corny?” You laugh, trying to beat him to the punch. The fact that you’re nervous and trying to downplay it is so endearing Suna actually has to look away from you for a second. He’s shocked at his own reaction to you. If someone could x-ray his chest right now, they’d see your fingers, plucking at his heartstrings like a harp.
“Sweet,” he says, trying on his usual bored little drawl. And then, unable to sustain that mask any longer, he spits out, “You’re so goddamn sweet, it’s killing me.”
Your eyes widen. “So you like it?”
That unexpected emotion in him grows, consuming him. If he’s honest with himself, it’s been living there inside of him for a while now, desperate to be realized. He’s realizing it now. He couldn’t stop it if he tried.
“Do I like it?” He asks, incredulous. And then, seeing your hands clasped in front of you, he stands, unable to stay away from you any longer. “You made me dinner.”
“Uh, yeah,” you chuckle shakily as he approaches you, unable to read his eyes. “That’s what I just said, Rin.”
He takes a long stride closer, and his arms circle you. You lean like an instinct and he loves it. “You bought a tablecloth,” he says it like it means something.
Your brows pinch together, laughter in your voice. “Well, you needed one, so…”
He’s pulling you in tighter, placing a kiss at the crown of your head. “You wrote me a card.”
“Uh, I did, but don’t read it in front of me because it’s kinda lame, and—”
“Shut up,” he murmurs affectionately, placing more kissing on your face; cheeks, brows, cupid’s bow. “I love it,” he says. His whole body is pressed against yours, and he’s feeling you with his hands, moving them along your back and arms while keeping his mouth pressed into your hair. “I love this.” There’s so much of you that he loves.
“Yeah?” Your voice is muffled in his shirt. “That’s a relief.”
“Fuck, I love it so much,” he says again. Something strange is starting to happen to him. He feels like when he first met you, or when he first asked you out. Like a young boy, eager and afraid. You pull away slightly, blinking up at him.
“I’ll admit, this is more of a reaction than I was hoping for. I thought I was about to get teased for sure.”
“Stop.” The one word is shaky and you try to pull away more, but Suna buries his face into your shoulder. His composure is slipping and he wants to let it.
“Rin? You good?”
He takes in a trembling breath, hands keeping you close. It’s like he can’t pull you close enough, but he’s trying, he’s trying. “Listen,” he says into your skin.
You’re bewildered at the sudden emotion in his voice, forgetting your own nerves temporarily to rub soothing circles onto his back. “What is it? Did I overdo it with the rose petals?” You try to keep your voice light, but Suna squeezes you even tighter, silencing you.
The knot in his throat is rising. He keeps swallowing but it won’t go down. He thinks about the hours you had spent preparing, making sure to get his training schedule from him, borrowing his key, buying a new dress. To romance him. To show him you care. “Ah, shit,” he says to himself.
“What?” You ask, voice gentle.
“I love you,” he rushes out.
The words are more vibration than sound, but you grow still when he says them. “What?”
Suna hesitates, and then tips his head up to look at you. Somehow, saying the words gives him both intense relief and intense anxiety in the same breath. His eyes reflect that candle flame, flickering with light. “I said I love you.” And then, butterflies in his chest, “No one’s ever made me dinner before.”
You’re shocked, staring at him with wide eyes. You’ve never known Suna to be openly, verbally affectionate. He usually shows he cares in other ways, subtler ways. But hearing him now, seeing the love –the love—in his eyes…
You take his face in your hands. “No fucking way,” you breathe. “Holy shit, I’m in love with you, too.”
He gives a helpless little laugh at your admittance. You can feel his stampeding heart, keeping pace with your own. Suna’s trying to find all the pieces of his usual stoicism, but he can’t. They’re scattered, somewhere at your feet. He’s soft now, pliable in your hands. His face is a rare open book, and he can feel you reading him, taking him in with eyes of adoration. He can’t believe his own luck. “That’s…” He trails off, caught in your gaze. “That’s—"
“But just a warning,” you say suddenly. You look guilty and it stutters his train of thought.
Suna tilts his head at you. He blinks away the haze. “What?”
“You can’t take back what you just said but…” You grit your teeth. “The food is definitely burnt.”
Suna stares at you for a moment, comprehending your words and then snorts. “Way to ruin to moment.” He pinches your nose.
“You can’t take it back, okay! It might taste terrible.”
He shakes his head, smile threatening. “Alright.”
You place both your hands on his chest, earnest. “I’m serious! No take backs now that you’ve said it.” You’re beaming up at him, wide and perfect. “Even though we’re definitely going to have to order in.” There’s all the pieces of a laugh, building at the corners of your mouth. Love comes through him again like a sharp line of light.
Suna rolls his eyes to distract you from his blush. “Relax, you dork.” But when he peers down at you, it’s more gentle than anything. “No one's taking anything back.”
u know what i want? i want fwb sukuna who gets carried away and says he loves you while balls deep in you
and now you're panicking and tell him to slow down because that's not casual but all he does is start fucking u harder because he really really means it until you can't do anything but cum and cum and cum while he repeats it over and over
“i fucking told you that you couldn’t outdrink yuki.” he grumbles, face scrunched in annoyance while he looks down at you. you’re giggling like his words are the funniest think in the world, bent over your kitchen counter while you erupt in laughter. “do you ever fucking listen to me? it’s like talking to a chimp.”
your face snaps to look back at him, pinching at his nose while he leans against the fridge. he still has his keys hanging around his index finger and heavy jacket—that isn’t even weather appropriate— slung around his shoulders.
“don’t compare me to that!” you whine, turning back to point and scowl at him dramatically. he grimaces back at you.
he’s kinda fucking pissed shoko dumped your intoxicated ass into his grasps at the end of the night, probably 7 drinks swished down your throat at some sleazy bar sukuna didn’t even wanna go to in the first place. sure, he wasn’t gonna drink anyway, but he definitely didn’t agree to dd 6 people squeezing into his suv (which you whined to get the front seat of) and end up taking care of you.
he’s atleast thankful it’s you instead of say, gojo. if he had to babysit gojo’s stupid frog mug instead of your pretty face he would’ve tweaked the fuck out (assuming he’d even drive gojo anywhere in the first place).
still, the moment he wakes up tomorrow morning he’s screaming at shoko over the phone—because, the principal. what if he had to compromise the rest of time he could get sleep for some asshole he doesn’t even like.
“then lie down for a fucking minute.” he shoots back, peeling off his jacket, ditching his keys and dropping his large, gruff hands onto your waist while trying to guide you bawkwards into your apartment hallway. you stumble backwards while you stare up into his annoyed face.
“but i’m not tiredddddddddd!” you whine, fighting his push of your body by digging your heels to halt you in the carpet.
“it’s 2AM. yes, you are.” he continues to push you, even with your arms flailing out and trying to hit him, you can’t stop the way he’s shoving you through the hallway towards your bedroom.
you stomp at his feet with your heels, same ones you pestered him on facetime about choosing for you. he stops in his tracks, gripping around your waist harder as he annoyedly growls at your protest. his deep eyes stare down at you, exhaling through his nose heavily as you remain pouting.
it takes about 2 seconds for him to pick you up and heave you over his shoulder, kicking and yelping as he steps to your bedroom door and walks through the doorframe.
“UGH!! i hate you!” you scream, just as he sets you down on the mattress, much more gentle than you thought sukuna could ever be.
you tilt back till you’re lying flat in the mattress while sukuna stares at you from the other end of the room.
“will you finally go to sleep now, rat?” you frown at the nickname. “i want to get home and go to bed, now, so i’d appreciate it if you end the night early.”
you point at the dresser next to him. “i’m not going to sleep in this dress, stupid.” he clenches his hand at your words. he’s internally wondering how much more difficult you must make this for him. “what if i have a date, and i wear this, and it’s all wrinkled.” you gesture like he’s stupid.
“good thing you won’t be having any dates soon, vermin.” he snides, yanking open the top drawer, trying to find an outfit he can toss you to get this over with, before blinking back in surprise.
a drawer full of lace bras and matching panties. he stares for embarrassingly long before slams the drawer and opens the one below it. this time, finding your t-shirts (notably one of them his barca jersey that you refuse to give back).
“tell me something and i’ll get it so you can change.” he looks back at you, slinking your heels off from around your ankles and tossing them to clatter to the floor. “hurry up. i have to babysit yuji tomorrow and i’d like to be well rested for that.”
he probably shouldn’t have mentioned that based on how your face lights up.
“really? can i come?” you shoot up, smiling widely. he hates to admit how cute he finds you when you’re like this.
“if you pick something within the next 15 seconds i’ll consider it.” you grin and nod back at him before listing off the t-shirt and shorts you want to wear.
you’re about to pull at the hem of your dress to yank it down your body before pointing to the door. sukuna stands with his arms crossed while he scrunches his face at whatever you’re about to say.
“get out, pervert.” you watch as he huffs, throwing his arms over his head before opening and slamming the door and stomping away to your kitchen.
he comes back, still grimacing, and met with you finally changed and finally laying down. you look down at his hands to find a pint glass full of water in one and an advil in the other for morning. you’re almost taken aback at the gesture before he stomps over to your nightstand, placing them down roughly and crossing his arms expectantly.
“go to sleep now, or i swear i will forcefully hold your eyelids shut until you do.” he snarls. you just stick out your tongue and pout childishly at him. he concludes you’re spending way too much time with gojo.
“good night.” you say to him before pulling under your covers and turning over. he stays silent and waits till he plugs your phone in and takes off all his rings before snuggling finding his way into bed with you.
he double checks to make sure you’re still asleep before softly pecking at your cheek and yanking your back to his chest.
he leans over to check again, just for safe measure.
frat!kuna wants to hear your pretty noises (shy!reader)
even though sukuna wasn’t very vocal, that didn’t mean he didn’t want you to be. when you randomly went quiet underneath him, he wasn’t pleased. his thick cock split you open, causing your gummy walls to flutter around his length. you were squirming underneath him with your pupils blown wide as you took him. sukuna was in awe—you looked beautiful under him just as always—but something was missing. aside from the sound of skin on skin, it was quiet. too quiet.
“don’t go silent on me,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “i need to hear you.”
you were flustered. you turned your head away in embarrassment and shook your head. he snapped his hips again, tip nudging your cervix. you bit your lip to suppress the moan threatening to escape from you.
“are you embarrassed?” sukuna asked. “there’s no need to be, i promise.”
you hesitated, moved by his reassurance. he felt good and you wanted to show him that. but, you were shy. plus, it wasn’t like he made any noise other than his praise and a few low grunts here and there. you didn’t want to do it alone.
“taking me so well,” sukuna groaned. “so fucking tight you’d think i didn’t take good care of you.”
you let out a quiet moan, back arching. it was so hard to keep quiet, especially with the way he buried you to the hilt. you were so full of him you couldn’t think straight. heat pooled in your stomach as he fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.
sukuna was close too, how could he not be? your warm walls hugged his length tightly, practically sucking him into your tight cunt. the sight of you under him was enough to get him off. but without the sound of your broken cries, he wasn’t sure if he could finish just yet.
sukuna decided instead of telling you you weren’t alone, he’d show you. the groan he let out snapped you out of it. you clenched around him immediately at the sound.
“‘kuna,” you whined without even realizing it. “feels s’good.”
“there she is. my pretty girl, don’t hide from me. let me hear how good it feels, yeah?”
you nodded and spread your legs even wider. sukuna angled his hips slightly to where his cock reached your sweet spot with each thrust. the delicious stretch was blinding. you cried out his name as you took all of him. his balls slapped against your ass, the lewd sound filling the room and egging him on even more. sukuna groaned into your ear and whispered to you.
“you’re close? come for me, need to hear it and feel it.”
you weren’t as quiet when you came. your orgasm shattered over you at his words. you cried out his name and gripped his bicep. as you came down from the high, you panted, lip quivering as you caught your breath. sukuna followed you right after. he buried you to the hilt with his cock, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your pussy. he groaned softly before collapsing on the bed beside you. his arms found yours, pulling you close to his chest. you put your ear to his chest and listened. his heart was pounding so hard like it was about to burst. you looked up at him with a small smile. he mirrored it and pressed his lips to your forehead.
“to be honest, i don’t think i can go again without hearing you,” he admitted. “don’t be afraid, i got you. always.”
there's a rlly rlly old series of fics, it's 4 fics of each of the seijoh4 and all named after sweet things like vanilla or candy or ice cream or something and the issei version is him helping you move and then fucking u against the counter in a sundress CAN ANYONE FIND THIS
finding oliver aiku standing on the other side of your front door unannounced at 9:53 p.m. is a surprise for a number of reasons.
the first being that he’s never just shown up in all the time that you’ve been doing…whatever this is.
the second is that it’s his birthday, and he should be out clubbing with sendou and the rest of his team.
however, to his credit, he looks anything but drunk. rather, he looks stone cold sober. a little sad, even. he’s in dark slacks and a white button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands shoved in his pockets.
“nah,” he tells you. “i drove.”
you make a face. “it’s your birthday.”
“sure,” he shrugs. “can i come in?”
and because you really don’t have a good reason to say no to him, even if your weak heart and sense of self-preservation say otherwise, you step aside.
oliver helps himself to a glass of water in your kitchen, and it feels oddly domestic for such a small act. he stands facing the sink as he drinks, and you come to lean back against the counter beside him, arms crossed.
“i didn’t get you a present,” you tell him
(you almost did.)
“that’s okay,” he says, voice quiet as he puts the glass down and shifts a little closer, his hip touching yours. oliver wraps an arm around your waist and leans in, forehead coming to rest on your shoulder. “this is all i wanted.”
something shudders behind your ribcage as the warm scent of his cologne curls around you.
“you must have broken a lot of hearts at the club leaving so early tonight,” you joke, deflecting because the thought of saying anything more significant leaves the ghost of a burning sensation in the back of your throat.
he sighs into the bare skin of your shoulder, his breath warm, nose brushing against the strap of your tank top. “wasn’t there long enough for that.”
idly, you softly run your fingers along the hair at the nape of his neck, and he leans into you more heavily as you do. “did you at least stay long enough for cake?” you tease.
“i didn’t want to be there if you weren’t there,” he replies, thumb stroking the sliver of skin between the hem of your tank top and the waistband of your shorts.
your breath hitches in your throat, and it’s impossible to mask the noise. impossible to pretend his words haven’t struck a chord that yawns awake in the marrow of your bones.
(this is supposed to be casual, after all.)
“i don’t do clubbing,” you tell him.
“i know,” his lips are brushing against the curve between your shoulder and neck now. “that’s why i’m here.”
“and i don’t have cake, either,” you breathe out, voice unsteady as oliver shifts again, bringing your hips flush with his own.
he kisses behind your earlobe. the curve of your jaw. the corner of your mouth.
he cups your face in his hands, thumbs sliding over your cheeks. his eyes are bright.
i might not know, but again, I end up only thinking of you, girl
characters: itoshi rin, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu x fem! reader (separate)
synopsis: you're the only one who makes them feel this way.
tags: jealous blue lock boys, possessiveness, kissing, toxic aiku and kaiser LMAKDDND, childe (genshin) and sunday (hsr) make an appearance!, angst???, crack, suggestive, petnames, lmk if I missed a tag :D
a/n: shoutout to nishi!! she proofread this for me (except yukki's that's a surprise for u LMAOSNDJE) anyway this idea came up during our practice for our year end. So hope everyone enjoys!! (also it's my first time writing for yukki and aiku :P)
ITOSHI RIN
it was usually you who got jealous, not him.
he never minded how others treated him or you, rin never cared when girls threw themselves at him because you're the only one that occupied his every waking dream.
so no, rin admits he's never felt jealous in his life.
well, that was until today.
this was a rare time during your finals week - rin wanted to take you out on a date, to unwind and relax before the whirlwind of exams and projects take you along.
when rin entered the room you said you were in - he didn't expect the sight he had to take in.
you were dancing with an unfamiliar man, both of you looking awfully close - and the expression you had on your face made rin's stomach turn.
there was music also, a jingle of some sort that hurts his ears. he's visibly irritated now, he wanted to rip you away from the man even if that would cause a scene.
the feelings that brewed inside of him were indescribable but it made rin sick, he wanted to hit something- wanted to whisk you away to somewhere he could hide you.
despite the confusion with what he felt, he stalked closer to where you were still dancing with that other man.
when the music stops and your eyes meet rin's, you easily slip out of the man's grasp and go to hug your boyfriend.
he ignores the feeling of satisfaction that creeps inside of him when your arms secure itself around his nape.
"rinnie!" you say, and your voice washed away his worries - the ugly feelings brewing inside his chest and he brings out a small smile.
"yeah?"
"sorry i didn't tell you sooner! i was supposed to practice something, i was told just now." rin's eyes automatically flit towards the silver haired man you were dancing with.
"it's fine." rin tells you, even when he directs the man with a glare. he doesn't hide this action and you're left giggling.
"are you jealous?" you only smile, irises sparkling with mischief. and rin's heart can't help but beat rapidly against his chest. in which he's sure you knew, because you were smiling wider.
"i'm not." he grumbled, pinching your cheek. you grin stupidly at this- loving his current attention on you.
"sure you aren't, like i didn't see you glare at sunday." so that man has a name?
"well, you shouldn't worry your cute little head over- i love you, not him, okay?" you state this seriously, directly looking into his eyes - and rin, in the rare occasions that you fluster the fuck out of him - looked away.
"whatever," he tries to brush it off, yet the redness creeping up his cheeks says otherwise.
MICHAEL KAISER
like all couples do, you get into disagreements with kaiser.
though this specific fight annoyed him to the point that he started ignoring you. of course, him being a lovely boyfriend - didn't mean any of his words! he was just mad, okay?
yet now, you're the one ignoring his calls - when he sends a message your way, all he gets back is the daunting reminder you've left him on seen.
so what better way to make it up to you, than with food? after all, isn't the best way to a woman's heart through her stomach?
kaiser planned on surprising you with tour favorite takeout and some drinks. he, by the way, lowered his pride, just so he could talk to you again.
when he opened the door to the room you were usually in during lunchtime, what he saw made his heart sink.
you were eating with some ginger dude, the food looked homemade too! and you looked so happy eating it, beaming in the guy's direction like that guy was your boyfriend and not michael fucking kaiser.
kaiser gets a little irritated (and oh, it's not pretty), he grips the plastic in his hand and crumples it. he's pretty sure the guy could feel his glare burning into the back of his head, as the same person turned to stare at him, and had the audacity to wave?
your lovely boyfriend who was frankly, still pissed off- marched over to where you both are and he drops the takeout and drinks (gently) in front of you - pushing the homemade food away from your face.
"baby, sorry i'm late." kaiser emphasized the petname, by glaring at the dude in front of you.
"hey! i'm surprised you're here." your comment made his head snap towards you, like you weren't the one ignoring him?
"yeah. i messaged remember?" he smiled, his cheeks felt tense - he just wanted to be alone to actually apologize but this motherfucker can't get the hint?
"is this the boyfriend you were talking about?" the guy asked, and you nodded.
those words made kaiser feel...different, and he stared at you, silent and unbelieving. you only grinned and waved goodbye to the other guy as he stood up and left you both.
as soon as you were alone, you started snickering. and kaiser glared at you yet he wasn't irritated anymore, the pest exterminated itself swiftly.
"were you jealous over ajax?"
"that's stupid and your imagination, by the way." he scoffed, getting embarrassed once he realized how childish he acted.
"don't worry, you were adorable." you giggled before kissing his cheek (he goes red at this, which made you laugh more.)
OLIVER AIKU
one whole year. it had been a year since you said yes to being aiku's girlfriend, and a year since you've been kept a secret.
in normal aiku fashion, he doesn't see anything wrong with this. he assured you that he doesn't want other men to steal you away from him (but let's be real, that isn't the real reason)
so when he spotted you conversing with another guy, he felt a weird sensation climb up his throat. aiku reasoned it was because of an upcoming cold.
yet when he caught how your cheeks stretched into a wide smile, eyes shining from laughing - his fists tightened at the sides.
even if your relationship was a secret, wasn't it obvious that you were together?
with how distracted he was, aiku didn't notice that he went up to the both of you and placed a possessive arm on your back.
you shivered at his touch and stared at him in alarm, yet for some reason - aiku didn't care. he stared the guy up and down before speaking.
"baby, thought i told ya not to talk to strangers." said guy seemed offended by his statement. while you were also confused by your boyfriend's newfound behavior.
"aiku, what-?"
"that's babe to you." aiku interrupted your words and grinned. you also couldn't help the heat coming up your cheeks.
"i'm not a stranger though-"
"did you hear that?" he smiled before turning to face you. uncaring of the audience, he grabbed your chin softly and kissed you.
when aiku pulled away, the guy was (annoyingly) still there - while you were still reeling from his lips. your boyfriend holds your hand firmly before pulling you away.
well not before sending a smug grin over to the guy, of course.
YUKIMIYA KENYU
you weren't even together, so he shouldn't be bothered that you would get attention.
he's not even your boyfriend. what gives yukimiya the right to be jealous of a girl that isn't even his?
maybe he shouldn't have introduced you to isagi. he seemed to be too comfortable in making you smile and laugh and pisses him off that it's actually working on you.
his exterior showed yukki smiling and chuckling along, but to be honest? he's already plotting on how to push isagi out of the room so he can have you all to himself-
"...you okay?" you asked, staring at him, and he felt surprised. he didn't know why but yukimiya felt his hands clam up and heart speed up at your concern.
"oh, it's nothing. i'm fine." even when he's the farthest from fine. isagi still seemed like he wasn't done talking to you and was just waiting to get your attention back again.
and it's like the heavens shined down upon him because in the next moment, isagi was called into another room, leaving you both alone.
because of your other friend's departure, you were waiting for isagi to get back. and at that second, yukki stilled himself - and hoped to god what he was about to do wouldn't be a regret.
"hey..." yukimiya's voice made you perk up and stare at him curiously. his heart rate picks up again.
"is there something wrong?"
so many things are wrong, i should be the one you're talking to. i'm supposed to be the one who has your attention. keep your eyes on me, please? i'm the only one you should love. i want to be yours.
yet he is unable to say this because isagi comes back inside and pulls you up, holding your hand in his.
so, what gives him the right to be jealous when he's not even yours to begin with?
“Rule number one: If you get cum on my plushies, you’re going to be handwashing them and apologizing to them out loud the whole time.”
Oliver stares at you sitting cross legged on your bed. “That’s rule one?”
You frown back at him. “Got a problem with it?”
“No, no, I just…” His gaze drops to the embroidered smile of your precious stuffed whale and he squints at it a little. “Rule one?”
“Okay, well, we can stop at rule one and you don’t fuck me at all.”
“No, no. Rule one, don’t get the plushie dirty. Got it.” He pauses. “Unless—”
“That’s rule number one. Rule number two,” you cut him off. “The plushies stay on the bed during sex. If they fall off, we’re stopping so I can pick them up off the floor.”
Oliver points at you accusingly. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be.”
“Look into Moby’s eyes and ask him if I’m fucking with you.” You hold up the plush whale, its soulless black eyes staring into his, and Oliver sighs.
“Fine, sure. I’ll pick up the whale if it—”
“He.”
“If he falls off. Happy?”
“Hmph.” You hug the plushie to your chest and set it down gently on the bed, patting the top of its head, and Oliver groans inside. He’s half hard already, and you being cute about your plushies is not helping.
Still, your attention’s divided. He grabs you, pulls you into a kiss that he knows will leave you breathless, and you melt into him, plushie hopefully forgotten—
“Hah, mm, wait.”
You’re panting into his mouth, but you pull away. He can’t help but chase the sensation of you, his lips kissing down your jaw and neck instead, relishing in the little moans he coaxes out of you in between you trying to speak.
“Oliver- Mm, fuck. Oliver.”
Your fingers catch his jaw, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling his stubble into your palm as you guide his face to look at you. He knows he looks stupid and lovesick as he stares, but can you really blame him? It’s you.
“Oliver,” you say, your voice stern.
“Yeah?” And he can hear the tenderness in his voice; it’s a fucking miracle you can’t.
“Rule three. I don’t want my plushies exposed to indecency.”
“Eh? I’m a model of decency, what’re you talking about?”
“Gimme a second, to turn them around?”
Your voice pitches up, almost like you’re whining, and fuck, that’s cute. You’re cute, so fucking cute and goddamnit Oliver is hard, and oh.
Yeah, that’d work.
Oliver leans back, hands lifted in the air, the pinnacle of innocence. “Go ahead, grab your plush, baby.”
You stop and look back at him, brow furrowed. “Thanks, I will? What are you— Oh. You– mm. Fuck. Motherfucker.”
You’d turned around to grab your plush, your ass raised — the perfect opportunity. You’re curled around the little whale, and now, Oliver’s curled around you, dick grinding against where you’re oh so terribly sensitive.
“Hey, thought you didn’t want your little friend exposed to indecency,” Oliver rolls his hips, rewarded with another muffled moan.
“Pervert,” you mumble, and Oliver presses a kiss to the nape of your neck in retaliation.
“Just for you, sweetheart.”
“You’re still apologizing to— hnn— Moby after this. Got it? Ffffuck.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver laughs a little, even more when he feels you twitch under him. “Whatever you want, baby.”
( 18+ mdni ) frat!sukuna fumbled what could’ve been love, and now he’s helplessly chasing after you. part 1 / part 2
fratboy!sukuna who doesn’t take rejection well. not because he’s used to having everything handed to him— though, let’s face it, he is— but because the thought of you walking out of his life makes him physically ill. he tried pretending he wasn’t fazed at first, leaning back on the couch with his usual sharp-toothed grin when his frat brothers teased him about what happened. “y/n?” he scoffed, playing it off. “she wasn’t even that special. just another girl. plenty more where she came from.” but there’s a tightness in his chest now that wasn’t there before, and when the laughter dies down and he’s left alone in his room with your name burning in his mind, reality punches him square in the gut. he fucked up. he really fucked up.
you’re gone. really gone.
fratboy!sukuna whose smooth reputation starts to unravel. at first, he tries to brush it off like nothing happened, and maybe the others buy it. but sukuna isn’t eating. he’s skipping practices, skipping classes, surrounded by half-drunk bottles of jack and filled ashtrays that stink up the room. his room feels bigger now, quieter, almost suffocating, and no matter how many times he tries to drown himself in distractions— shots, parties, even other girls dragging their hands over his chest, it doesn’t fucking work because none of them are you.
you weren’t supposed to mean anything, but now you haunt him. you’re in the curve of every laugh that doesn’t sound like yours, in the soft scent of your shampoo that still lingers on his stupid bedsheets no matter how many times he washes them. he aches for the glimpse of you in his classes, on campus, anywhere, but you’ve tucked yourself away from his world, leaving him drowning in a sea of mistakes he’ll never get to undo.
he doesn’t even realize how bad it’s gotten until one of his frat brothers mentions, “you hear she’s been hanging out with gojo?”
fratboy!sukuna who freezes, tension coiling in his chest so hard it feels like he might snap. “gojo?” he asks, eyes narrowing as he leans back in his chair like this isn’t a big fucking deal, like his heart hasn’t just started pounding harder in his chest. “that fucking nerd? the dude who hangs around the library and pretends like he’s better than everyone?”
his brothers laugh, oblivious to the storm building in sukuna’s head. “yeah, man,” one of them replies. “he tutors her in math or chemistry or some shit. heard they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”
that’s it. that’s all it takes to ruin whatever fragile piece of self-control sukuna has left. he sits quietly, his expression unreadable except for the sharp, tell-tale tick in his jaw. but inside, he’s seething. bitter jealousy claws at him, curling in his belly like hot poison. the image of you with gojo— gojo with his obnoxious glasses and clean-cut, self-righteous attitude— makes sukuna sick.
because sukuna knows guys like gojo. he’s thoughtful, polite, safe— the kind of guy your parents would love. the kind of guy who’d ask how your day was, who’d hold your books for you, who wouldn’t tear your clothes off the second you walk into a room. but does he fuck you stupid the way sukuna did? does he know how you squirm when someone’s fingers tweak that one spot between your thighs, or how you go from a sweet little angel to a fucking mess when he pins you down and makes you take it? no. he doesn’t know you like i do.
sukuna knows all of this. he knows gojo could never take you apart the way he can, but that doesn’t stop the bile from rising in his throat whenever he hears his friend mutter something like, “i think y/n’s into him.”
he’s not in any position to be mad. he knows that. but fuck, it doesn’t matter when gojo’s name is all he can hear, and the thought of you slipping further from his grasp turns into white-hot rage bubbling under his skin.
fratboy!sukuna who doesn’t even realize how pathetic he looks when he starts trying to fix this. it starts small— running into you “accidentally” on campus, trying to force his usual cocky grin as he leans against hallway lockers and says, “hey, stranger. you avoiding me or something?” but you barely meet his gaze, brushing past him with nothing more than a cold, “what does it matter?” he tries texting you. his fingers hover over his phone for hours, typing, deleting, then typing again until, finally, he sends, ‘we need to talk’.
no response.
so he tries another approach. he shows up to the same library you’ve started hiding in, dragging his big, hulking frame into the back corner where you sit buried behind books. your eyes widen when he says your name— always your full name, spoken with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine— and he swears he catches a flicker of emotion behind your glasses.
“just give me five minutes,” he pleads, uncharacteristically soft. not the loud, arrogant sukuna you’re used to. not the guy who always had some snarky remark ready. just a man who’s clearly losing his mind, desperate for even a crumb of your attention.
“no,” you reply shortly, returning to your notes even though your hands shake. “there’s nothing to talk about, sukuna.”
he lingers, his throat tight, fists clenched uselessly at his sides. he knows you’re shutting him out, but it doesn’t stop the words from slipping from his mouth in a low, heart-wrenching whisper, “i’m sorry.”
he’s sorry for everything— the dare, the way he couldn’t tell you sooner. but you don’t look up, even though he can see the way your pen falters just slightly in your hand.
“if you were sorry,” you murmur after a long pause. “you wouldn’t have done any of it.”
fratboy!sukuna who realizes nothing— not his smirks, not his charm— will pull you back. everything he did wrong has cemented itself too deep. you don’t believe him. not when all he’s ever been to anyone else is a walking red flag. so one night, after stewing in his jealousy and self-loathing, after imagining your stupid fucking times with gojo on a loop, sukuna snaps. he shows up at your dorm unannounced, pounding on the door like his life depends on it.
you groan when you crack the door open, only to freeze when you see him. he’s disheveled— dark under-eyes, hair a wilder mess than usual. it’s like he hasn’t slept in days. “sukuna,” you hiss as you glance over your shoulder for your roommate. “what the hell—”
“are you seeing him?” he blurts suddenly, leaning into the doorway, his low voice strained and almost... pleading? he’s never looked at you like this before, not with his walls broken down, not this fucking wrecked over anyone.
“you’re showing up at my dorm for this?” you spit, defensive. but when your voice wavers, he knows the question landed exactly how he wanted it. you’re shaken, even if you hide it well.
“i just need to know,” he says, softer now, his large hand pressing flat to the doorframe. “is it true? is he the one you’re fucking around with now?”
you exhale sharply, trying to slam the door, but sukuna pushes it back open. “damn it, y/n,” he growls, his voice breaking slightly. “just fucking talk to me. does he make you happy? does he even know the first thing about you? does he make you feel the way i did when i—” he cuts himself off, swallowing roughly, like admitting any of this aloud hurts more than he expected.
you glare, crossing your arms tight over your chest. “why does it matter? you don’t get to be mad, sukuna.”
“because i love you!” he shouts suddenly, louder than he intended, the words punctuated with raw frustration. they echo down the hallway of your dorm, a sharp admission that knocks the air from your lungs.
everything stalls for a second as you try to process his words— the way his voice cracked, the way his broad shoulders sag after he says it like he’s finally given in to whatever feeling he’s been fighting. “i love you,” he repeats, quieter this time, more desperate. “fuck, i’ve loved you from the moment you smiled at me. i know i don’t deserve you. i know i fucked it all up, but i—”
“stop.” your hand trembles on the door, cutting him off even though tears sting your eyes. because this is what you wanted to hear. this is everything you wished he’d told you weeks ago, before everything shattered. but now? now you don’t know if you can trust him.
“i meant it,” he mutters, his tall frame leaning closer as if begging you to believe him. “none of this was supposed to happen. i wasn’t supposed to fall for you. but i did. i don’t want anyone else, y/n. just... you.”
for a moment, you almost let yourself believe him. almost let yourself fall for that soft, pleading look pooling in his sharp crimson eyes. but instead, you wipe your tear-streaked cheek and whisper, “it’s too late.” and then, before he can stop you, the door clicks shut in his face.
fratboy!sukuna who stands dumbfounded in front of your door for what feels like hours, his head tilted back against the frame as he curses himself for never realizing what he had until it was gone. no parties feel the same, no walks across campus, not even the stupid dares his friends egg him on for. he used to own this place, the loudest and cockiest guy on campus, but now he feels like a ghost— his head spinning with the sound of your voice telling him it’s too late.
maybe it is. maybe it isn’t. he has no idea. all sukuna knows is that no matter who else he touches, no matter what he does to fill the hole you’ve left behind, nothing will ever come close to you.
⊹ + * ⊹ °. * ✧
idk if i’m very good at this angst shit, but i tried LOL sukuna is suffering real bad in this fswsfs. also, are y’all taking him back or cutting him off for good ??? 👀👀👀👀👀👀 #lmk
( 18+ mdni ) frat!sukuna breaks the only rule he cared about: don’t catch feelings. part 1 / part 2
fratboy!sukuna who notoriously doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. everyone knows he’s trouble— tattoos crawling up his arms, that sharp tongue dripping with sarcasm and filth. everyone adores him just as much as they loathe him. it’s sukuna, for fuck’s sake. the unpredictable, sharp-edged party boy who lives in constant chaos. girls rotate through his bedroom like clockwork, only for him to discard them the moment he’s done. he doesn’t text back, doesn’t offer breakfast the morning after, and never promises shit, but that’s fine, because everyone knows where they stand with him. sukuna doesn’t do strings. he doesn’t do relationships. but he definitely does dares.
fratboy!sukuna who sits sprawled out on the dingy leather couch in the middle of another friday night dorm party, ignoring the blaring music and cheap vodka in someone’s hand. the conversation has turned into a game, one of his frat brothers leaning back with a shit-eating grin and that look that screams, it's your turn. “i’ve got one for you, sukuna,” one of the others slurs, leaning close and pointing across the room. “see that girl? nerdy little thing, y/n. bet you couldn’t pull her.”
sukuna’s eyes flick lazily to you, tucked in the corner. you’re chatting it up with one of your friends, wearing those little wire-rimmed glasses that make you look harmless, a sweatshirt pulled snug over your frame like you're hiding yourself from the party. you don’t belong here. and that’s exactly why the dare piques his interest.
“i could pull anyone,” sukuna scoffs, grinning slow, sharp, and smug. “but, sure. why not?” he doesn’t even think twice about it. it’s just a game. always has been. he strides over to you like he owns the room, all confidence and heat, sliding himself into your conversation without hesitation. that cocky smile is burned into your memory by the time the night is over.
fratboy!sukuna who wasn’t expecting you to be so fucking pretty up close. when you finally tilt your head up to look at him, his world stutters for half a second. you’re biting your lip nervously, adjusting your glasses, and your voice is sweeter than he expected when you mutter, “do you... uh, need something?” pretty. soft. so completely opposite everything he’s ever gone for before. something about it makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t like or understand, but still, sukuna pushes deeper— complimenting your smile, teasing you subtly until you flush, and offering to walk you out when the party dies down. you let him, much to his surprise.
but at first? it’s just harmless fun. he wasn’t expecting to fuck you right away— thought you’d be one of those ‘pure’ types, the ones that get all flustered if someone stares too long at their lips. but you surprise him almost immediately. when he leans in closer and murmurs, “you seem tense, sweetheart. never had a guy flirt with you before?” you blink up at him, smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, and say, “not like you.” it’s enough to make his cock twitch in his jeans before you excuse yourself with a cute little “goodnight,” leaving sukuna more frustrated than he’s been in a loooong time.
fratboy!sukuna who starts bumping into you more often after that night. in class. at the library. in the quad. it shouldn’t mean anything, but everytime he runs into you, there you are— dressed modestly but with this soft, natural kind of beauty that drives him insane. your hair always smells sweet, and when you look up from your books and push your glasses up the bridge of your nose, it fucking wrecks him. he turns it into a game; teasing you relentlessly, taking the empty seat next to you in lectures just to mutter filthy things under his breath that make your cheeks heat up, watching out of the corner of his eye as your thighs subtly clench. sukuna can tell you don’t play games like this, and that’s why it’s so fun for him.
fratboy!sukuna who decides to make a move during yet another party. you don’t go often, but this time sukuna had a hand in convincing you to show up. tossing careless words your way all week, like, “i don’t get why you hide all the time. bet they’ve never seen you in a dress,” followed by a wink. to his surprise, you actually show up— looking fucking gorgeous, no less. your usual baggy sweatshirt gone in favor of a tight little dress that hugs your curves. he wasn’t supposed to react to this, wasn’t supposed to notice how good you look, but fuck, now his mouth is dry, and he wants you bad.
it starts with small talk, heated glances, subtle touches— his fingers brushing the back of your thigh when no one’s watching, the deep rasp in his voice when he leans in close and murmurs, “you’re gonna ruin me tonight.” you giggle nervously, but he sees the way your eyes light up. like you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him.
fratboy!sukuna who ends up with you pinned against the wall of his room an hour later, tearing that tight little dress straight off your body. the whole night had led to this— him pushing boundaries, you not stopping him— and now, sukuna admits, you’re better than any fuck he’s imagined. he’s fucking obsessed already. you’re shaking, clinging to his shoulders, your soft moans muffled against his neck as he whispers filthy shit into your ear, voice dipping low like gravel. “knew you’d be fucking sweet, baby. that tight little pussy just begging for me to ruin it.” he lifts you easily, shameless about the way he palms your ass roughly, swirling his thick cock around your entrance before thrusting in completely.
you cry out as he stretches you, and sukuna loses his mind with how tight and wet you feel. he rams into you relentlessly, sweat dripping from his forehead as he fists the back of your hair, tilting your head to force you to look at him. “see that, sweetheart? look at yourself. cockdrunk already, yeah? can’t take your eyes off me, huh?” his grin spreads wider as the tears stream down your cheeks, overwhelmed sobs escaping your lips as your body trembles with every brutal thrust. he knows it’s nasty. he knows he’s going too far, sucking marks into your neck, positioning you how he wants, legs thrown high over his shoulders so he can jackhammer into you, then face down on the mattress so he can admire the pretty way you arch your back for him.
fratboy!sukuna who falls harder than he ever thought he could. it’s not just about fucking anymore— the way you unravel under his touch, the soft, nervous laugh you make when he teases you about being a little nerd, the way you whisper “missed you” everytime he leave— it leaves an ache in his chest, one that spreads further every time he sees you. he wasn’t supposed to like you. you were a fucking dare. but now, you giggle and ramble about some book you love after he’s fucked you raw, completely naked in his lap as you tuck your face under his chin, and sukuna realizes he doesn’t want anyone else in the room except you.
fratboy!sukuna who’s falling, and you notice. you see the change in how he touches you— his hands lingering longer on the curve of your back, the soft way he tucks your hair behind your ear. it terrifies you because for as much as he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the room, you know what he is. you know every girl he’s fucked, every name he’s probably forgotten. men like sukuna don’t fall. they don’t change. he can’t love you— not someone like him.
but then he fucks up. after sneaking you out of his room following another sleepover, one of his frat brothers makes a comment when you pass. “finally bagged her, huh, sukuna?” his friend grins, smug as ever, not noticing the storm brewing in sukuna’s sharp glare. “always knew you’d win the da—” the word doesn’t finish before sukuna slams him against the wall, snarling something about shutting the fuck up and staying in his lane. you freeze. the dare. you weren’t stupid— you put it all together as all the pieces fell into place, and the betrayal sinks deep into your chest.
“what dare?” you ask quietly when sukuna catches up to you afterward, his favorite cocky mask faltering. “tell me, sukuna. was i just some bet to you?”
and the thing is— he wants to deny it. to explain that he didn’t think you’d matter to him, to admit you were supposed to be nothing... but then somehow became everything. but he can’t form the words, and you’re already pulling away.
fratboy!sukuna who doesn’t know how to fix it. he doesn’t know how to look you in the eyes and admit, i fucked up. i fucked up, but i’m in love with you. and now you're gone, just like that, leaving him empty in a way he’s never felt before. of all the shit he’s landed himself in, none of it compares to the ache of knowing he lost you, the one girl he never intended to care about in the first place. you were supposed to be a game. why does it feel like his whole world just shattered?
fratboy!sukuna who hates himself, realizing too late that he never gave a fuck about the dare— that the first time you smiled at him, he was already yours. but now? now he’s sitting alone on that same couch with his cock in his hand, scrolling through blurry photos of you, drunk and desperate because no matter who he tries to touch now, nothing feels like you. maybe he fucking deserves it…
theartofmadeline
gummygunk
