campus heartthrob and resident fuckboy GOJO SATORU shocks everyone by going exclusive with you
gojo satoru settling down was as unlikely as catching the hour hand of a clock moving.
notorious for being a lady's man , he had it all going for him. he was all bedroom eyes and cheesy smiles that can make anyone's knees go weak. he was full of loud laughter and nonchalant swagger.
like he didn't give a damn.
cigars for breakfast, skipping lunch to attend classes if he felt so, hard liquor with his frat boys and a different woman in his bed at nightâfor dinner of course.
he had the face, he had the body, he had the charisma. none could blame the poor souls who wanted a taste, even for just one night.
and satoru. oh. satoru was just a guy. who was he to turn away the beautiful ladies? he didn't chase after them, it was just his luck that they came to him first.
then he caught his first glimpse of you. at his party, looking so out of place that made his eyes zero in on you. not even a cup in your hands. looking so good that it made him want to do something bad.
so he slid up to your side with his usual confidence. started a conversation he could hardly care about. and ultimately, was shocked into silence when you hit him with a "sorry, that pea in your bed is going to bruise my back".
rejected him.
rejected him.
and thus began satoru's chase. the chase for your heart.
the local campus gossip forum ruminated , 'the heartthrob, gojo, has been caught getting rejected by unknown woman. the university has since, seen a rise in the number of women left unsatisfied as gojo's bedroom door has been closed for shocking reason. is a reform on the way? is exclusivity on the horizon? '
heads turned as the usually absent satoru was seen attending classes almost to the point of regularity.
gasps rang out when someone leaked a picture of him handing you flowers. red. roses.
so awfully cliche that you couldn't even blame your past self for the disgust on your face in the aforementioned leaked picture.
women raged when a video of him begging you while chasing after you on the sidewalk surfaced in the stories of satoru's frat bro's.
the man who was known for being as careless with his words as people are with their phones after a year, was suddenly mindful of his vocabulary.
when before, smirks and winks were handed out to the girls so easilyânow they were reserved just for you it seemed.
and the crazy part of it all? you made him run. you made him grovel. you made him fix his failing grades. made him fix his fillipiant attitude.
and made him take 2 hiv tests.
made him give a damn.
but you couldn't change his clichĂŠ-ness. he was a sappy romantic. he snuck candy in your stationery, climbed up your window ledge and left flowers in your hair when you weren't paying attention to him.
he even started gifting you books which you had talked about in that first meeting. at the frat party. and that was when you caved in. not enough to let him in your bed. but enough to go out with him.
the frat boys tripped over themselves when they caught satoru in a white formal shirt and black slacks. a red rose in his pocket. the picture of a lover boy. the change was not sudden, he had been chasing after you for months . but it was shocking nonetheless.
and satoru. oh. satoru was in love. the goodness tasted way better on his tongue than cigar smoke. your perfume on his clothes smelled better than nightly sex.
and your hand in his made his heart race faster than any orgasm he had ever had.
he never imagined himself to be tamed by a woman. yet here he was. and he had no regrets.
not when people all around him gaped at your fingers scratching the hair at his nape.
not when his boys hollered at the tattoo of your name over his heart.
and certainly not when you finally let him in your bed.
he still had a long way to go though. to prove that he was there to stay. to prove that he was exclusive to you.
so as he lay stroking your back as you slept on his chest, he planned the perfect little outing to take you on the next day. (and ways to woo you so that you would invite him to your bed again)
choso is a firm believer that pretty girls like you shouldnât have to do anything.
itâs not something heâs ever said out loud, not in those exact words, but you see it in the way he kneels at your feet when your evening slippers are pinching, in the way his hands steady your ankles as he slides them off.Â
you see it in the careful, reverent way he unties the laces of your dress at night, his knuckles brushing your spine, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.
"cho, i can do that myself," you protest for the hundredth time, reaching for the hairbrush on your vanity. youâve just returned from a work dinner, your face aching from smiling, your scalp tender from the weight of your responsibilities.
"don't be like that," he says softly, taking the brush from your hand. heâs already behind you, his reflection meeting yours in the mirror. heâs wearing a simple black sweater now, his pigtails undone, but he still looks at you like youâre the only thing in the room worth seeing. "let me help you."
"youâre going to spoil me rotten," you murmur, but youâre already sinking back against him, your eyes drifting shut as he starts working the brush through your hair in slow, even strokes. the bristles scrape gently against your scalp and you make a small, involuntary sound of pleasure.
"thatâs the point," he says, his voice low. he sets the brush down and reaches for the cloth and cleansing oil. "you're too beautiful to even lift a finger, baby."
heâs wiping the rouge from your cheeks now, the kohl from your eyes. his touch is so gentle, so methodical, like heâs polishing something precious. you let him tilt your chin up, let him clean away the dayâs mask. when heâs done, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.
"cmon, bed." he commands. not harshlyânever harshlyâbut with the quiet authority of a man who knows exactly what you need.
you stand, your hand in his, and let him lead you to the mattress. he undresses you slowly, layer by layer, the silk pooling at your feet. when youâre down to your thin shift, he pulls back the covers and tucks you in like youâre something fragile.
"sleep," he whispers.
but you catch his wrist. youâre not sleepy. not anymore. the tiredness has shifted into something else, something warm and heavy low in your belly.
"stay," you plead.
he hesitates. "youâre tired."
"i want you," you clarify, your thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. "but iâm... iâm exhausted. butâ but i want youâ but i don't want to do anythingâ"
something dark flickers in his eyes. understanding. hunger. devotion.
"then donât," he says. he climbs onto the bed, fully clothed, and crawls up your body until heâs hovering over you. "donât do anything. donât even think. just let me make you feel good."
"chosoâ" you start, already feeling guilty, already reaching for the hem of his sweater.
he catches your hands and pins them gently above your head. his fingers twine with yours, pressing your palms into the pillow.
"no, sweetheart." he says, his mouth brushing your ear. his voice drops, rough and reverent. "you donât do the work. you never do the work. you just lay there, princess, and let me take care of you. let me please you. let meâ" he grinds his hips down, and you feel how hard he is, straining against the fabric of his trousers, and you gasp. "âlet me do everything."
he releases your hands only to finally pull his sweater over his head. you watch the muscles of his back shift in the warm light of your tablelamp, the old scars, the lean strength. when he turns back to you, heâs already unlacing his trousers, pushing them down, kicking them off.
he kneels between your thighs, his dark eyes raking over you. "open up," he murmurs, his hands sliding up your legs, pushing your shift higher. "be good for me, okay?"
you spread your legs, trembling. heâs already so hard, the pink tip flushed and wet, and he wraps his hand around himself, stroking once, twice, his eyes never leaving your face.
"you donât even have to move," he says, leaning down, caging you in his warmth. "iâll do all the work. iâll get you ready. iâll make you feel so good. all you have to do is look at me. can you do that for me, princess? can you let me love you?"
"yes," you breathe, your voice cracking. "yes, choso, pleaseâ"
he kisses you then, deep and filthy, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that makes your toes curl. his hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding you already wet, already aching. he doesnât make you ask, nor does he make you work for it. he just pushes two fingers inside you, curling them, stretching you open while his thumb circles your clit.
"thatâs it," he praises against your lips, feeling you clench around him. "that's my girl. just lay there and take it. let me get you ready for my cock."
you moan, your head falling back against the pillow. heâs relentless, his fingers pumping in and out, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. you try to rock your hips, try to chase the sensation, but he stills you with his free hand on your hip.
"no, angel." he says, his voice firm. "donât move. let me. i want to feel you squeezing my fingers while you just lay there and let me fuck you open."
you whimper, your hands gripping the sheets because he wonât let you touch him. heâs leaning over you, watching your face, watching the pleasure overwhelm you, and his expression is something almost feral. like thisâserving you, controlling your pleasure, doing all the laborâis exactly where he wants to be.
"look at you," he breathes, his fingers moving faster, harder. "so pretty. so perfect. you're doing so well, baby. letting me make you cum. can you do that for me? can you cum on my fingers like a good girl?"
"choso!" you sob, the pressure building, your body tensing.
"there she is," he croons, his thumb pressing down. "cum for me, make a mess of the sheets."
you break, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you cry out. he rides you through it, his hand moving slower now, drawing out every wave until youâre shaking, boneless, your hair fanned out across the pillow.
before you can catch your breath, heâs moving. he hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wide, his hands sliding up to grip your hips. he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your still-pulsing heat.
"now," he says, his voice rough with restraint. "iâm going to fuck you, and iâm going to make you cum again. and again. until you canât think. until you canât even remember your name."
"please," you gasp, your hands reaching for him again, wanting to touch, to hold.
he catches your wrists and presses them back into the mattress. "no," he says, his eyes dark. "be good, or i'll stop. understand?"
you nod, dizzy, your body still throbbing.
he pushes in with one long, smooth thrust, filling you completely. the stretch burns so perfectly you cry out, your back arching off the bed, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your hips.
"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "so warm. so tight. and youâre justâ letting me use youâ shitâ"
he starts to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has you seeing stars. heâs doing all the workâhis hips rolling, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, his hands holding you exactly where he wants you. you try to move, try to meet his thrusts, but he growls and pins you harder.
"stay still," he orders, his voice strained. "let me do this for you. you had a hard day. you smiled at people who didn't deserve it. now you just get to lay here and take my cock. thatâs all. thatâs your only job."
"ch-choso!" you sob, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. itâs too much, the pleasure, the devotion, the way heâs using his body to serve you. "i love youâ hic!â i love you so muchâ"
"i know," he breathes, his thrusts speeding up, becoming harder, more desperate. his skin slaps against yours, the bed creaking, but he never lets you move. he holds you open, holds you down, fucks into you with a single-minded focus thatâs entirely about your pleasure. "and i love you more. god, i love you so much more."
his hand slides between you again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. youâre so sensitive from your first orgasm, every touch is electric, overwhelming. you canât move, canât do anything but lay there and take it, exactly like he wants, and the helplessness of it, the sheer luxury of being cared for so completely, sends you over the edge again.
you cum with a scream, your walls clamping down on him so hard he chokes, his rhythm faltering.
"thatâs it," he gasps, fucking you through it, chasing his own release now. "atta girl. justâ shitâ i-im gonnaâ"
he thrusts deep one last time and stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes with a broken groan against your neck. you feel the heat of it, the way he spills into you, marking you, claiming you, all while you lay there trembling, his hands still gripping your hips, his weight pressing you into the mattress.
for a long moment, neither of you moves. heâs breathing hard, his chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin. slowly, carefully, he pulls out and collapses beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. heâs still panting, his heart hammering against your ear.
"okay?" he whispers, his hand stroking your hair again, back to the gentle, domestic touches.
you nod, boneless, drifting. "more than okay," you murmur. "felt so good."
"thatâs the point," he reminds you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "pretty girls like you shouldnât have to do anything."
you smile against his chest, your eyes already closing. "then i guess iâm just going to have to let you do it again tomorrow."
There is a very specific, highly entertaining phenomenon that occurs whenever you take your husband out in public. You like to call it the âTerror and Thirstâ effect.
Today, at the crowded public beach, it is in full swing.
You are currently lounging under the massive shade of a navy blue beach umbrella, a trashy romance novel resting on your lap, watching the spectacle unfold at the shoreline.
Ryomen Sukuna is, objectively, a masterpiece of a man. Standing at a towering 6â4â, he is built like a heavyweight championâbroad shoulders, a thick chest, and a torso carved out of solid granite. Heâs wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, black board shorts that sit dangerously low on his hips, putting the intricate, sprawling black tattoos that cover his chest, arms, and stomach on full, glorious display.
He is hot as fuck. Itâs a fact that is currently not lost on the group of college girls sitting on a blanket about twenty yards away. They havenât stopped staring, whispering behind their hands, and aggressively adjusting their bikini tops for the last half hour.
But here is the catch: Sukuna is also terrifying.
He has this natural, resting aura of absolute disdain for anyone who isnât you or your son. Heâs a snob, plain and simple. He doesnât smile at strangers, he doesnât make polite small talk, and if someone stares at him for too long, he gives them a dead-eyed, chilling glare that practically drops the surrounding temperature by ten degrees.
Case in point: one of the girls giggles a little too loudly, pointing in his direction. Sukuna, who is currently standing ankle-deep in the surf, slowly turns his head. He doesnât say a word. He just narrows his crimson eyes, his face completely blank, and stares her down.
The girl visibly pales, her hand dropping instantly. She quickly turns around, suddenly very interested in the contents of her cooler.
Sukuna lets out a quiet, dismissive scoff, turning his attention back to the water.
âYouâre going to give those poor girls a complex, babe,â you call out, unable to hide your amusement.
Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, and the transformation is instantaneous. The cold, intimidating mask melts away, replaced by an expression so incredibly soft and devoted it makes your chest ache. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a small, fond smile.
âNot my problem that they are annoying,â he says, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the crashing waves. âBesides, I only want one woman looking at me.â
You roll your eyes, though your cheeks heat up. âSmooth, Ryomen. Very smooth.â
âDada! Splash!â
A tiny, high-pitched voice interrupts the moment. Yuji, currently sporting a pair of tiny black swim trunks that perfectly match his dadâs, is waddling furiously through the shallow water. Heâs got a pair of bright orange floaties strapped to his chubby arms, his pink hair plastered to his forehead from the ocean spray.
Sukunaâs attention snaps to his son. He doesnât say anything, just calmly wades deeper into the water, his massive hands reaching down to scoop the toddler up under the armpits.
âYou want to splash, little man?â Sukuna asks quietly, his tone a low, soothing rumble.
âYeah! Big splash!â Yuji cheers, kicking his little legs.
You watch, completely mesmerized, as your terrifying, snobbish husband hoists your two-year-old high into the air. Sukuna tosses him upâjust high enough to make Yuji squeal with delightâand catches him effortlessly, dipping him down so his little toes drag through the water.
Itâs a beautiful, chaotic contrast. The giant, tattooed wall of muscle, gently playing in the waves with a giggling, chubby-cheeked toddler.
They play in the water for another twenty minutes. Sukuna is quiet, mostly just listening to Yuji babble about the âbig fishesâ and the âsalty water,â occasionally offering a calm nod or a soft chuckle. He is completely in his element, entirely unbothered by the rest of the world.
Eventually, Sukuna wades out of the water, carrying Yuji on his hip. Water is dripping from Sukunaâs pink hair, running down the hard planes of his chest and tracing the lines of his tattoos. It is a sight that should be illegal.
He walks over to the umbrella, grabbing a towel with his free hand and tossing it over his shoulder. He sets Yuji down on the sand.
âGo to mama, buddy. Let her dry you off,â Sukuna murmurs, running a hand through his wet hair.
But Yuji has other plans.
He shakes himself off like a wet puppy, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. He takes two steps toward you, stops, and then his head snaps to the left.
You follow his gaze. A new group of girlsâthree of them, looking like they just stepped out of a swimsuit catalogâhave set up their chairs near the shoreline.
âOh, for fuckâs sake,â you mutter, dropping your book. âNot again.â
Yujiâs eyes go wide. He completely ignores you, turning on his heel and marching straight toward the girls. His little chest is puffed out, his arms swinging with an unearned amount of swagger for a kid who still wears pull-ups at night.
âSukuna,â you warn, pointing at your son. âStop him.â
Sukuna doesnât move. He just stands there, drying his chest with the towel, watching Yuji with a quiet, amused smirk. âWhy? Heâs on a mission.â
âHe is two! He is literally a baby!â you hiss, standing up. âWhy does he act like a frat boy on spring break?â
âSon't ask me,â Sukuna replies, clearly avoiding your eyes, he took a sip from the bottle of water. He doesn't say it, but you can hear the lingering amusement in his voicd. âLet the boy have fun, babe.â
You groan, watching helplessly as Yuji reaches the girls.
He stops right in front of their beach chairs. He puts his chubby little hands on his hips, tilts his head, and unleashes the weapon: your bright, disarming smile.
âHi!â Yuji chirps loudly. âI Yuji!â
The girls immediately stop talking. They look down at the tiny, pink-haired toddler, and the collective swoon is almost audible.
âOh my god, hi!â one of them coos, leaning forward. âArenât you just the cutest thing ever?â
âPweety,â Yuji says, pointing a tiny finger at the girlâs sparkly bikini top. He then flexes his little arm, showing off a completely non-existent bicep. âLook! Strong like dada!â
âI canât believe this,â you whisper, burying your face in your hands. Sukuna lets out a low, quiet chuckle next to you.
âYou are a terrible influence,â you glare at him.
âBabe, I didnât do anything,â Sukuna says, his voice completely deadpan, though his eyes are dancing with mirth. âIâm just standing here.â
Down by the water, the girls are eating it up. They are giggling, offering Yuji a plastic beach toy, which he graciously accepts. But then, one of the girls looks up. Her eyes scan the beach, looking for the parents, and she spots Sukuna.
You can practically see the cartoon hearts pop out of her eyes.
She stands up, brushing sand off her legs, and walks over to Yuji, taking his little hand. âCome on, sweetie. Letâs go find your dad.â
She leads Yuji back toward your umbrella, her eyes locked entirely on Sukuna. She has that lookâthe look of a woman who thinks sheâs about to shoot her shot with a single dad.
âExcuse me,â the girl says, her voice dropping into a sultry purr as she approaches. She completely ignores you, standing right in front of Sukuna. âIs this little guy yours? He wandered over to us.â
Sukuna stops drying his hair. His smilr vanishes, instantly replaced by that cold snobbery. He looks down at the girl, his expression completely blank, his eyes devoid of any warmth.
He doesnât say a word to her.
Instead, he steps forward, completely invading her personal space with his massive frame, forcing her to take a nervous step back. He reaches down and scoops Yuji up into his arms.
âDada! Pweety girl!â Yuji babbles, pointing at the woman.
Sukuna looks at the girl for one more second. Itâs a look that clearly says, You are entirely beneath my notice.
âThanks,â Sukuna says. His voice is quiet, but it carries a heavy, chilling finality that makes the girl flinch. âCome here buddy lets go to mamaâ
He turns his back on her without another word, walking the two steps over to you. The girl stands there for a second, her face flushed bright red with embarrassment, before she quickly turns and scurries back to her friends.
You are trying very hard not to laugh. âYou didnât have to be so mean to her.â
âI wasnât,â Sukuna scoffs, setting Yuji down on your beach chair. âI just didnât care to speak to her.â
âShe was totally hitting on you.â
Sukuna finally looks at you, and the ice in his eyes melts completely. He steps into your space, his large hands coming up to cup your face. His thumbs gently stroke your cheekbones.
âWhatever,â he murmurs, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate register. âI'm marriedâ
Your breath hitches, your heart doing a familiar, stupid little flip in your chest. Even after all these years, he still knows exactly how to render you speechless.
âYouâre such a sap,â you whisper, leaning into his touch.
âOnly for my wife,â he replies, leaning down to press a slow, deep kiss to your lips. Itâs a possessive kiss, one that clearly communicates to anyone watching exactly who he belongs to.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.
âMama!â
You both look down. Yuji is standing on the beach chair, holding up a slightly crushed, sandy seashell. He shoves it toward you, his big golden eyes shining.
You melt. You absolutely melt. You take the sandy shell, pulling Yuji into a tight hug and kissing his salty, sun-warmed cheek. âThank you, baby. Itâs beautiful.â
Sukuna watches the two of you, his hands resting casually on his hips. âSee?â Sukuna says quietly, reaching out to ruffle Yujiâs pink hair. âThe kid might have my charm, but he knows the truth.â
At the end of the day, despite the playboy genes and the endless chaos, they were yours. And you were theirs.
And mom was, undeniably, still the best.
an: we're close to 1k what the hekk!!! what one shots do you wanna see next? i can't write smut for the life of me, english is saurrrr hard!! divider by: @pxrce-lain | the art and gif i got from pinterest! feel free to comment who is the orig art creator pls đ
!Ryomen Sukuna; who falls in love with the concubine he hated the most
Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.
You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.
To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.
Except you didn't.
You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.
"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.
You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."
You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.
The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukunaâs jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.
If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.
He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.
And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.
"You are eating that wrong."
You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.
You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.
"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."
Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.
"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."
"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."
Sukunaâs lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.
He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.
He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.
It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.
"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."
You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."
Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.
"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."
You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.
The shift happened. In Sukunaâs dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.
But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.
The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rotâsomehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."
The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.
And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.
During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.
You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukunaâs attempts to make you try a cup of sake.
But Sukuna had heard it.
He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lordâs table, and dismantled the manâs entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.
"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.
Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.
Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.
Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.
"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."
"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.
His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.
"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.
"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."
You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.
He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.
You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.
"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.
A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.
"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."
You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.
everytime you guys did anything in the comfort of your home together, you made sure to look as good as possible. you did your hair in a way that was both extremely cute but also gave off effortless. your outfits getting sluttier and sluttier each week, which always made your roomie get all fuzzy and warm inside.
you had even added a cute pink blush to your cheeks, in the shade choso complimented each time you wore it. youâd even go as far to wear that pink slutty apron that did absolutely nothing to conceal your perky nipples whenever you baked with him. you were such a fucking tease. and maybe you did deserve what you had coming for you. in fact, you earned it.
yeah sure, like maybeee you were a littleeee weird at times, and did pervy shit like.. all the fucking time when it came to choso kamo. but how many people did you know that would act on what they wanted?? no one. so go ahead and give yourself a pat on the back girl!
while you cleaned yourself in the bathroom after getting into a flour fight with choso, he took care of everything, tidying up spilled flour and batter, wiping down counters, and putting dishes away. that was when he noticed the box.
it sat poorly hidden near the pantry, bright and unmistakable: aphrodisiac-infused chocolates. 500mg. nonetheless you practically emptied out the whole bag. were you trying to turn this man into a sex monster??
his movements stilled. his gaze lingered, a dark shadow flickering in his eyes as understanding clicked into place.
oh?
so that was how you wanted things to be.
fine. he'll bite.
+
"hah?? w-wait! cho- m'sorry!"
âare you always this wet around me? who knew my favorite girl was such a fucking slut.â choso spat disapprovingly. he had you trapped between his spread legs. his arm tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his large veiny hand dipped into your skimpy shorts. with one stroke of this finger, he gathered wetness from your entrance to your clit in one slow drag. you whimper, unable to stay quiet at his teasing.
his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer to him, the head of his cock poking into your lower back, hot, heavy and throbbing. a cold calloused finger slipped in between your folds, easing in and out of you lazily, . âi asked you a question.â his breath tickling the shell of your ear before nipping down on your lobe, making you jolt with a small gasp.
âiâ i dunno?â youâd choke on a whine, what a pathetic attempt to answer his question. displeased, he pressed down on your clit with tight, punishing circles, making you gasp and clench around nothing. he added another finger, curling up inside of you, hitting spots you didn't even know existed. âtry again.â his gaze was piercing, looking down at you expectantly. you turn your head, burying your face in his forearm to muffle the pitiful moans that threaten to escape. he scissored his fingers inside of you, working you open.
i mean honestly.. who wouldâve thought innocent baking with your roommate would lead to.. this? the man you had been thinking about ever since you moved in with him, the one whose shy smiles and quiet sweetness made your heart race... had turned you into a gushing, needy mess on the couch in the middle of the living room⌠i mean sureee you had snuck in aphrodisiacs into the chocolate chip cookies you were making together all while wearing the thinnest clothes you owned. but you didnât think heâd react so intensely to it..
âyouâre such a liar. i can smell it yâknow...â choso murmured, removing his fingers with a wet pop as he began to massage your sloppy folds between two digits, making you whine. âevery time you start dripping for me. you're not very discrete.â with his free hand, he pinched at your nipples that we poking through your sleazy apron, just begging to be touched. âgahâ chosoâ!â
"quiet." he hummed, ignoring your cries. âthis what you wanted, right??â he hummed low and condescending. as if the thick ridge of his cock wasn't twitching against you through his loose pants, creating a wet spot on the back of your shirt.
âch-choso, please, i said i was sorryââ you mewled pathetically, hips sinking down, trying to get his fingers further into your pussy, moaning at the way he curled them up inside of you. choso held you even tighter with his arm, pulling you back into him and halting the movement of his fingers, "didn't say you could move."
he was working you open at a slow tortuous pace, a wet sound filling your ears with each plunge of his strong fingers, obscene enough to make your body go hot. choso couldn't help but look at you with stars in his eyes. he had hardly even touched you, and you were gushing all over his hands. such a slut. he abruptly removed his fingers from yu, though your needy cunt tried to suck them back in, whining at the sudden empty feeling.
he brought his two fingers to your face, covered in strings of your arousal, pruny after being inside you for only a few minutes. âopen up...â he cooed, he sisscored his two fingers, stretching out the clear strings that stuck between them, as if egging you on. you hesitated at first, but of course. you obliged. eagerly sucking at his two fingers. tongue swirling around and in between them as they were pressed flat against the velvety surface of your tongue. lapping at arousal, mixed with hints of vanilla extract that clung to his fingers.
choso couldnât help but feel his dick twitch in his pants, starting to strain against the fabric. you were so fucking nasty. he let out a low huff of amusement against your nape. he extracted his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. now licked clean.
âwhere should i fuck you, hm?â he tutted, landing quick, soft slaps to your cheek to focus your eyes that already began to glaze over, pussy helplessly throbbing. âthis tiny little couch? or my room.. or better yet that little goon-cave of yours?â he squished your cheeks between two of his strong fingers, craning your neck to make you look up at him. however when you looked it wasnât choso at all.. âyouâd probably prefer my room, wouldnât you? you get to make a mess all over my sheets with that needy cunt of yours while i fuck your brains outâŚâ you whimper, soft and barely audible as you bit your bottom lip in anticipation.
choso hauled your sorry ass from the couch to his room, before dropping you unceremoniously onto the edge of his unmade king-size bed in the center of his room. the only light came from the soft glow of the bedside lamp that just made him look so good. his build was impossible to ignoreâhis defined abs faintly pressing through his shirt, biceps stretching the fabric whenever he moved, his sharp jaw set tight. and last but not least, that dark, hungry focus in his eyes that made your stomach flip. his room smelled just like him.. the faint tang of sweat mixed with the comforting warmth of his shampoo lingering in the sheets, subtle hints of his clothes tucked in the corner, all of it unmistakably entirely him, though you were about to make a mess of it all.
he hovered over you, staring down at you intensely.
âdo you want to continue?â
you sat up on your elbows, trying to ignore the tingling in your tummy, a stupid flushed look on your face. âhuh?â
he rolled his eyes, leaning in closer, now peering straight at you. âi asked if you want to keep going. if you want to stop here we can, and we go finish bakiââ
âchoso..â
you glanced away, but you meant it, despite your voice being barely above a whisper. how could you possibly stop when you were finally getting what you wanted?
choso stepped in close, leaning over you and bracing his arms on either side to cage you in, fingers tipping your jaw up until you had no choice but to look at him.
âi need to hear you say it outloud then. you want this?â despite his rough demeanor a few seconds ago, his voice had that usual hint of softness in it, a mix of thunder and velvet. the one that always made your heart lurch in your chest.
ây-yeah.. of course i want itâŚâ you answered quietly with a slight roll of your eyes. brat.. your thighs absentmindedly pressed together, trying to ignoring the heat building up where you needed him most. âwant youâŚâ
he leaned in further, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip, a small smile gracing his features. âokay.. okay good..â
and in seconds he was on top of you, pushing your hips down into the mattress, mouth capturing yours into a bruising kiss, devouring you like a man starving. his hands roaming your body, desperate to feel you, palm resting on the plush of your boob, massaging your nipple between the base of his digits. his tongue delving into your mouth as he pressed himself against you, rubbing right over your clothed cunt.
and you couldnât have been happier.
he lifted you by your hips to meet his own, his clothed boner shamelessly grinding against you, his shaft rubbing right against your clit. you could tell he was big, let alone from the way he walked. but now you were starting to think youâve severely miscalculated.. the heat between you two was palpable. he could feel how badly you wanted him, hell, needed him, your hips bucked against his with a desperation that matched his own. he reluctantly broke the kiss with a small bite to your bottom lip, making you hum in surprise, before dipping his thumbs into his waistband.
he pulled down his sweatpants almost teasingly, now only in his boxers that did nothing to hide his hard on for you, small rivulets of pre-cum oozing through the mesh of his boxers.
you could feel saliva pool in your mouth, as he carefully pulled down his boxers, eyes glued to you.
his aching cock sprung free, placing a small 'thawk' to his abdomen. veins scattered all over his shaft, his tip glossy and the prettiest shade of red, pulsing. the cherry on top of it all was that he was fucking huge. you were almost certain if he'd were to slap you in the face with it you'd get a black eye.
"choso..?" you began shyly. it was almost funny. in your perverted fantasies you always imagined choso to be the shy one, not you. as he made eye contact with you, cocking an eyebrow. was he seriously unaware??? you gave him a look that screamed 'is-that-not-gonna-snap-me-in-two-??'
he scoffed, "in all those sick little fantasies of yours.. you didn't think i'd be big? not even once??" great now he was pouting.. "yeah well i knew you were big, not fucking huge. thereâs a difference.." he leaned in close to your ear, breath tickling the shell, his thumb grazing your bottom lip.
"it'll be a big stretch... besides, i'll be gentle. can you handle it?"
one of the main reasons you liked choso so much was how much of a sweetheart he was, really, the sweetest man on earth. always leaving little notes for you, always buying you the ingredients for you to try new recipes, carrying you to your room whenever you fell asleep on the couch, quietly listening when you rambled about nothing, and blushing so adorably whenever you complimented him! the one thing you didn't know about him is that we was a fucking liar. in fact he had you absolutely folded.
âhaaahâ yâsuch a fucking slut, bet youâve been fucking thinking about this since weâshitâmoved in t'gether,â he grunted into your ear. his heavy cock splitting your pussy open, each thrust announced by a lewd âthwapâ. his sweaty bangs glued to his forehead as his brows knitted together in pleasure. his jaw falling slack as you clenched around him, letting out a small whimper. he had your ass hanging off the edge of the bed with your knees pressed to your chest with his torso, his arms caging you in as he angled himself up deeper into you.
âangh! fuckâmm, choâ you whined pathetically as he drilled into you, âi can'tââ
âa-are you sure? wouldâve thought youâd like it, s-since you think about my cock so muchâ, his hand slid down between you pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing messy circles over it, making you see white. âtell me. is it better than you imagined?â
âmmph! sâmuch betterâ, you babbled borderline incoherent, he just felt so fucking good. his cock was hammering into you with ease from how wet you were, and quite frankly how hard he was. his tip dragging along your spongy walls, filling you out perfectly. it was so much better than any scenario your brain could conjure up.
choso looked down at you, noting the way your eyebrows knitted in pleasure as you dug your nails into his veiny forearms, nothing but soft little whimpers escaping from your swollen lips, his dick already beginning to twitch inside you. âso this is how youânnghâ apologize?? yâthrow this slutty pussy at me.. hoping iâll fucking forgive you?â he snarled, picking up his pace. his hips snapping into you punishingly.
âchosooâ s-said sorry!â you mewled as you continued to gush around him, your weeping cunt sucking him in everytime his tip kissed your cervix. âyou feel so goodâ mâsooooâfuckâhard for you, always am..â he rambled, his voice breaking off into a whine. choso leaned down, digging his canines into the crook of your neck before lapping his tongue over the bruising spot, turning you into a ball of sweat and whimpers as he bottomed out inside you, balls slapping against the curve of your ass.
âcmon.. show me how much of a whore you reallly are,â he choked on a dry laugh, his punishing strokes not stopping. âiâve been so patient for youâ soo fuckinâ good. for you.â the knocking of his hips began to get sloppy, his sweaty forehead buried in the crook of your neck. a white frothy ring forming around the base of his cock, dripping down his sack as he continued to knock you up with ease. âl-let you steal my boxers, f-fucking let you watch me i-in the shower, listen tâme whenever i get off to youâmmph.â
...
âh-huhâ???â, you were to fucked out to actually formulate a proper response. he let you steal his boxers?? and let you run around doing all that other perverted shit on purpose? no wonder it felt too fucking easy.
ât-thought you figured it out, no?â, you could feel the suction of his mouth as he made sure to leave a mark that would definitely show up in the morning. "n-no?" you choked out, horny and confused. he continued to punishingly snap his hips against you, his pubic bone crushing your achy clit, making you helplessly flutter around him. he laughed at the stupid look you had on your face, âhuh.. guess you really are just that fucking nasty..â
you opened your mouth to say something, anything sensible, but before you could even get the words out, he stood up right, pushing your legs even closer to your chest with his body weight. he pulled out of you and slammed right back in with a sick squelch, making you to fly up an inch on the mattress. whatever words you had in that slutty little throat of yours died right there, eyes going cross-eyed while your mouth formed a little âoâ, legs locking him in by his waist, as he pinned your wrists to the side of your head.
choso stared down at the sight of his dick easinggg in and out of you, a soft creamy sheen covering his shaft. âwish you could see it baby," he choked out, his voice breaking out into a moan. "wanted this pussy sooo fucking bad, want you soo fucking muchâ, he babbled, each of his words paired with a little whimper.
he suddenly your hips, pulling you back onto his cock, âsuch a fucking slut. gonna turn you into a suchhh a good girl with my cock. is that what you want??â though it wasnt really a question. he knew it was what you wanted. a large hand trailed up your body before wrapping around your throat, squeezing lightly at it, making your hole squeeze down on him. âis that why you act so fucking bad âround me? soâhnghânasty.â
you babbled out a string of incoherent apologies, âmâshorryyyâsorryâ!â you were unsure if choso could understand what you were saying, you couldnât even understand yourself with the way you went dumb on his cock. âyâshould be s-sorry, youânghâfuckinâ perv.â he didnât slow down, he somehow got even faster, heavy balls slapping against you, the scene coming straight out of a porno.
âtell me. whatâre you sorry for? huh??â he snarled, removing his hand from your throat, placing a small slap to the side of your cheek, before bringing it back down to your hip. gripping in a way that would definitely leave a print. âmâsorry forââ, you choked on a sob, unable to think with the way he was he was filling you out so perfectly. âs-sorry for stealing y-your boxers, a-and sorry forâhahâgetting off to you!â
"huh... should i forgive her?", he panted out. huh? who the he was talking to?? "s-she says yes," he let out a small grunt, eyes glued to your sloppy pussy, the way his cock was being strangled by your cunt. "t-think she's apologizing', f'making you such a dirty girl.." he muttered as he bottomed out.
âsâokay pretty girl, i know you're sorry. hngoddd, sâslutty pussyâs allllll mineeeeâ, his voice went up an octave, tears starting brimming his water line as he continued to stretch out your velvet walls. he pressed his sweaty forehead to your own, the sharp tip of his nose brushing against yours. âmâgonna fill you up, âkay? y-youâd want that right?â he hummed shakily.
your moans and whimpers were pure music to his ears, his leaking tip kissed your cervix as he continued to roll his hips against yours, âcho-choso, wannitâ wantyouâ b-but sâtoo much!â, you could feel unwanted pressure build in your lower abdomen and behind your eyelids, fat globs of pleasure threatening to spill from your eyes. who wouldâve figured the two of you were both fucking crybabies.
âd-donât be like that..â he cooed, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of your face. âyou can take itâyou can, and you fuckingâhnghâwill,â he grunted, each biting word emphasized by sharp thrust, knocking the wind out of you.
you arenât sure how much more of this you could take. âslow downâ mâserious!â you mewled pathetically, creaming all over his cock. choso could tell your orgasm was approaching with the way you kept spasming around on him. he had no intention of stopping. not until he made you sorry for being such a bad roommate of course.
âc-cant, cho, pleasee!â he huffed in response, bringing his thumb to your clit, with a few violent swipes of his thumb, you were gone. with a pathetic whine you felt your toes curl around nothing, the rest of your body locking up, pussy fluttering around his girth. a clear fluid gushing all over his sheets and his hardened abdomen. before you could process the fact that you just squirted all over him, choso captured your lips in a messy kiss, silencing your pathetic moans all while taking out his cock and slapping his leaky red tip all over your twitching clit, coaxing more spasms out of you. not giving you a second to recover.
he flipped you over flat on your tummy, knees bent under your torso and back arched into him. he slid back into you within seconds. landing a sharp smack to the fat of your ass while fucking you through the last few seconds of your orgasm. âch-chosoâ!! sâtoo muchâ, you whined. but your insatiable cunt said otherwise. "y'so naughty. n' so fucking messy, yâkept creaminâ on me, and n-now yâsquirting on me??â. he slid back into you, his body locking on top of you. his jaw went slack, "f-fuckâ", his hips stuttered. once. then twice. and then you felt it. his dick pulsing inside of you, thick and hot ropes spilling inside of you, he panted, frozen inside of you.
his face was buried into your back, sweaty forehead nuzzling into you while bear hugging you from behind. "choso, did you justâ", but he shut you up with a quick snap of his hips.
fucking you in long, punishing strokes, somehow even harder than before. the wet slap of his hips meeting your ass filled up the room once more, somehow even more loud and obscene than the first time. that same white creamy froth now dripping down your thighs and coating his sack.
your face was buried in his sheets, tears of pleasure streaking down your face, each thrust making you moan louder than before, his large hands gripping your hips, making you fuck back into him. the scent of him clinging to the fabric and making everything feel ten times more intense. the smell of him and pure unadultered sex filling up your nostrils.
âgonna fill you upâ nâmake you into a biggg sister, y-youâd be so fuckinâ nice to my lilâ brothers, wonât you?? whaddya think they'd say, w-when i tell them their future sister in law is such a fucking slut for their bigggâ ngh~, brother?â he grunted, arms trapping you in, your back flush against his chest. alll his weight pressing down into you, as if trying to fuse you into his mattress.
the way heâd go from being so mean to acting like a virgin almost gave you whiplash. he slid his hand down to the base of your tummy, pressing down on it, feeling himself stir up your insides, making sure you felt it too. âyâfeel that? mâperfect for you..â he hummed before pressing messy opened mouth kisses along your nape and shoulder, lapping at whatever drops of sweat began to form, eyes shut in pure bliss, his hand swiveling down to rub on your overstimulated bud.
âmâclose,â you whined, face buried into the pillow below you, absolutely covered with either sweat or drool. "i knoww baby, i know.. y'can take it right?" he whispered shakily, chanting your name like a prayer, his hips stuttering, fat cock continuing to completely stir up your insides. his pubic bone absolutely covered in a sick mixture of body fluids. âgonna cum, please, need y-you to cum wimme,â heâd finally open his eyes to peer over into your own fucked out ones, his face buried in the crook of your neck. âfuckkk, can you do that? onee moreâ? my sweeeettt little creep.â and he laughed.
he fucking laughed. did he think it was funny?? the fact you came touching yourself to his dirty boxers like some sort of femcel? you would tell him to gofuck himself, but you couldnât. not when he fucked you this good.
with one final thrust, your orgasms hit at the same time, a wave of euphoria and dopamine washes over you. his body locking up from on top of you. your loud moans muffled by a sloppy bruising kiss as he grabbed your jaw, craning your face towards him, his teeth clashing with yours. whining at the way your cunt clamped down on his twitching cock, milking him for all he had. his hips moved in desperate, fevered rhythm, grinding deep through spasm after spasm, each rope of cum wringing soft, helpless whines from him and a clench from you.
he rolls his hips again with a soft grunt. slow and deep, making sure nothing goes to waste.
his sweat-slick body collapsed against yours, nothing but solid weight and muscle pressing you into the mattress, filling every curve of your back until there was nowhere left to breathe besides the smell of sex and cookies long-forgotten in the oven.
+
after about a minute of making sure he stuffed you full.. he shifts his weight off you before pulling out, careful and slow. his white hot seed spilling freely with each flutter of your puffy cunt, fighting the urge to finger it back into you.
you were utterly exhausted.. eyes closed and lips parted. swollen and glossy. choso settled plush a blanket over you. you glanced over and caught choso tugging on a pair of shorts, slightly wincing as the fabric brushed against his still leaky and red over-sensitive tip.
he cleared his throat, âuh.. you wanna go eat those cookies still?â
that was cute. he still wanted to eat your food after you tried to put some magical sex chocolates in his system without telling him..
wait..
âum.. hold on.. y'didnât.. eat them???â you croaked, voice hoarse. looking at him eyes wide. thereâs no way he fucked like that on the regular⌠your mind raced, picturing him, usually so soft, so careful, so impossibly sweet.. but.. again, the same man who just had you folded into the mattress. fully sober by the way.
he looked away, cheeks faintly pink, voice barely above a whisper, as if his dick wasnât just re-arranging your guts. âwell⌠i saw that you put⌠'aphrodisiac' stuff in there, and i⌠well, i donât knowâi just⌠wanted to help..?â. oh choso. the fact he always founds a way to be so sweet and kind made your heart and pussy flutter.
that's when you noticed something that clashed with the dark monochrome colour scheme of his room. your pink panties that had been missing for like a whole fucking week?! and yes, the ones with the bow.
the only different was the obvious dried up cum stains, and for some reason the fact they were being worn by the torso of a sexdoll�
you almost choked. sitting up right, bringing up the plush blanket with you. a small attempt to keep some of whatever dignity you had left. âhey.. choso.. are those my panties⌠on a toy..?â, looking at him incredulously while he just gaped at you, his neck snapping between you and the sex doll.
âwellââ he sputtered, face heating up, âyou stole my boxers. and got off to me. don't look at me like im weird..â he crossed his arms over his bare chest, his demeanor getting all pouty. his chest was full of faint red crescent shaped marks that popped out thanks to his paleness. âon top of that you tried to give me sex poisonââ
âokay! i get it.. im a big perv, har har. youâre not that innocent yourself... you tricked me.â you huffed at him, still feeling a bit embarrassed at the fact you fell for his sneaky ass shit..
he walked over to you, leaning down to brush his thumb over your cheek. "i wasn't tryingto trick you, you know. i just didn't.. know how to tell you i liked you.â he paused⌠âjust don't move out!.. please." he winced.
you sighed, a small smile working it's way on to your face. "there are better ways to tell me you have a crush on me cho.. and of course i wouldn't move out with you, you're like.. the best room-mate i've ever had."
his heart fluttered at your declaration. the best you've ever had? he really had to made sure he lived up to that title now. he plopped down next to you âsoooo.. cookies?â he hummed innocently. âuhâ normal ones!! and then we can watch a movie.. or somethingâ or do you wanna take a bath firstâ??â he blubbered.
âwell for starters.. how about i get my favorite pair of panties back?â you hummed, patting his bare chest.
âscientists donât want you knowâ is a phrase that always cracks me up because if you actually meet a scientist they will be shaking and crying like an overstimulated chihuahua with the need to let you know
Just want to send out a reminder that the Internet is a prison for your mind. Engage in it for fun, sure, but remember this space doesnât matter. Most of it has turned into a hellish landscape in service to techno-fascists.
Do not come into online space seeking respite. It will chew you up and spit you out. Tumblr may be one of the few bastions from the old days but even here itâs dangerous to linger for too long.
Remember to nurture your friendships and community in real space. Itâs important you have those real connections. Live your life. Experience the world in all its beauty and majesty. The Internet is worth abandoning. There is very little it has to offer you and it will take from you your most precious resource, time.
you find a grey hair in SUKUNA'S beautiful pink locs
you run your fingers through sukunaâs soft pink locks, gently ruffling them as he melts further into your hold with every passing second. his arm stays snug around you while the two of you lie tangled on your couch, lazily watching reels from his phone.
thatâs when you see it.
âsukuna.â
âhm?â he nudges you lightly when you go quiet, shifting just enough to glance up at you. âwhatâs up?â
ây-youâŚâ you hesitate, fingers brushing through his hair again. this time a little more focused. âyou have a grey hair!â you point at it, eyes wide.
he lets out a quiet huff. âso what?â
âwaitâ wait! thereâs more!â your fingers keep searching, and he groans, tossing his phone aside.
âyou done? itâs just a few grey strands. whatâs the big deal?â
your expression crumples, nose scrunching in that way he knows too well⌠cute, but dangerous. his hand comes up instinctively, cupping your cheek.
âwhat are you crying about now, brat?â the âinsultâ doesnât stick, it never did even from the moment he met you.
you donât answer, just sniffle quietly, and he sighs under his breath before shifting. he maneuvers you down beside him on the too-small couch, half his body hanging off the edge, but he doesnât care. his arms wrap around you, warm and steady.
âlove,â he murmurs, voice low and gentle, âyou gonna tell me why youâre crying, hm?â his thumbs brush the tears under your eyes.
you sniffle again. âitâs just that⌠it means youâre getting oldâŚâ
he huffs out a quiet laugh. âyou worried i wonât be as handsome?â
you lightly swat his arm. ânever! iâll just have more competitionâŚâ you mumble, embarrassed, and he chuckles into your hair.
âiâm flattered youâre crying over me getting older.â
âwhen i get a grey, will you cry?â you pout, and his eyes flicker down.
âyes.â he answers without missing a beat.
âis it because iâll be uglyââ
he bites lightly at the junction of your neck.
âowâ ow! it was a joke!â
he presses a soft kiss over the spot right after, lingering there as he buries his face into your neck. âno. i wonât cry because of that.â
âthen what for?â
you feel the warm puff of his breath against your skin as he pulls you closer, arms tightening just a little.
âitâll just means my dream is coming trueâŚâ
he lifts his head, looking at you with so much quiet adoration it makes your chest ache. his eyes soften, almost glassy, like he might cry if he let himself.
âiâll grow old with you.â
â yooo i finally got ideas and posted hell yeahhh, it might be shitty but hey at least it's something
frat!kuna taking care of you at your first frat party . . . (shy!reader)
the bass was so loud it vibrated in your teeth.
you were standing just inside the front door of the massive frat house, clutching the hem of your sweater like it was a lifeline. the place was packedâbodies grinding, red cups everywhere, someone yelling âCHUG CHUG CHUGâ in the distance. the air smelled like cheap beer, weed, and way too much cologne.
you felt completely out of place.
ryomen sukunaâyour boyfriend of three weeks, the walking red flag with pink hair and tattoos crawling up his neckâwas right beside you, one big hand resting possessively on your lower back.
he looked right at home. black button-up half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, that lazy dangerous smirk already on his face. people kept nodding at him as they passed, some even doing double-takes when they saw you tucked against his side.
âyou good, baby?â he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear it over the music.
you nodded quickly, even though your heart was racing. âyeah. just⌠loud.â
he snorted, thumb rubbing a small circle on your back. âtold you it was gonna be loud. you still wanted to come.â
âi wanted to see what your world looks like,â you mumbled, cheeks heating up. you were the shy bookish girl who spent friday nights in the library, and he was the infamous frat president who threw parties that ended up on the campus group chat for all the wrong reasons.
sukuna leaned down, lips brushing your ear. âmy worldâs a lot less interesting when youâre not in it.â
you blushed harder. heâd been doing that latelyâsaying sweet things in that rough voice like it was nothing. it always caught you off guard.
he guided you deeper into the house, keeping you close so no one bumped into you too hard. when a drunk guy stumbled past and almost spilled his drink on you, sukunaâs arm shot out, steadying the cup with one hand while pulling you tighter against his side with the other.
âwatch it,â he growled at the guy, voice low and dangerous.
the guy mumbled an apology and scurried away.
sukuna looked down at you, smirk softening just a fraction. âyou want something to drink? non-alcoholic. i know you donât do the hard shit.â
you nodded, surprised he remembered. âjust soda is fine.â
he disappeared for maybe two minutes and came back with a can of coke and a bottle of water. he handed you the coke, then cracked the water open for himself.
âstay close,â he said, leaning in again. âif anyone bothers you, tell me. iâll handle it.â
you sipped your drink, feeling a little warmer. he wasnât acting like the wild party animal everyone warned you about. he was⌠attentive. almost gentle.
an hour later you were tipsy.
you only had two drinks (sukuna made sure they were weak and watched the guy pour them), but you were a lightweight and the music was making your head spin in the best way. you were giggling at everything, clinging to sukunaâs arm as he led you to a quieter corner of the backyard.
âyouâre cute when youâre drunk,â he muttered, guiding you to sit on a low stone wall.
âiâm not drunk,â you protested, even though you were swaying a little. âiâm⌠pleasantly buzzed.â
he snorted and crouched in front of you, hands on your knees to steady you. âyeah? then why are you trying to take your shoes off?â
you looked down. sure enough, you were fumbling with the straps of your heels.
âtheyâre uncomfortable,â you whined.
sukuna sighed, but there was a little fondness to it. he gently batted your hands away and undid the straps himself, slipping your shoes off and setting them beside you.
âbetter?â he asked.
you nodded happily and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. âyouâre being really nice tonight. i thought youâd be⌠you know. wild.â
he raised an eyebrow. âwild how?â
âthrowing people in the pool. shotgunning beers. starting fights. the usual frat king stuff.â
sukuna chuckled, low and rough, and stood up, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest.
âi can do all that shit any night,â he said, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back. âtonight iâve got you. and youâre too soft for that chaos. so iâm keeping you safe instead.â
your heart did a stupid little flip.
âyouâre sweet when you want to be,â you mumbled into his shirt.
âdonât tell anyone,â he warned, but he was smiling against your hair. âruins my reputation.â
someone yelled his name from across the yardâone of his frat brothers waving a beer pong paddle.
sukuna didnât even glance over. âbusy,â he called back, loud enough to be heard over the music.
the guy laughed and gave a thumbs-up, clearly used to it.
you tilted your head up at him. âyou can go play if you want. iâll be okay.â
ânah.â he leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to your forehead. âiâm good right here.â
later, when you started feeling a little too warm and dizzy, sukuna noticed immediately.
âalright, lightweight,â he said, scooping you up bridal-style without asking. âtime to go home.â
âbut the partyââ you protested weakly.
âthe party will survive without us.â he carried you through the crowd like you weighed nothing, people parting for him automatically. someone tried to hand him a drink; he ignored it.
outside, the night air was cooler. he set you down gently by his car, keeping one arm around your waist while he opened the passenger door.
âin you go, princess.â
you climbed in, giggling when he had to help you with the seatbelt because your fingers were clumsy.
on the drive home he kept one hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles.
âyou had fun?â he asked quietly.
you nodded, head resting against the seat. âyeah. you were⌠really sweet. i didnât expect that.â
he glanced over at you, that lazy smirk back on his face.
âdonât get used to it,â he said, but his voice was soft.
you smiled sleepily. âtoo late. i already like this version of you.â
he didnât answer, but his hand squeezed your thigh gently.
when you got back to your dorm, he walked you all the way to your door, making sure you got inside safely.
before he left he leaned down and kissed youâslow, warm, tasting like the one beer he allowed himself.
âtext me when you wake up tomorrow,â he murmured against your lips. âand drink water before you sleep.â
you nodded, floating a little.
he waited until you locked the door behind you before he walked away.
except⌠he didnât actually leave.
ten minutes later there was a soft knock on your door.
you opened it, still a little dizzy, and found sukuna standing there with a bottle of water, a pack of plain crackers, and your favorite hoodie that he must have grabbed from his car.
âyouâre still here?â you asked, surprised.
he shrugged, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. âfigured you might need help getting ready for bed. youâre swaying like a damn pendulum.â
you let him guide you to sit on the edge of your bed. he knelt down, helped you take off your shoes, then handed you the water and crackers.
âsmall sips,â he said. âand eat a couple of these so you donât feel like shit tomorrow.â
you obeyed, watching him with soft eyes as he moved around your small roomâplugging in your phone, turning off the big light, leaving the lamp on low.
when you finished the crackers he took the wrapper and tossed it in the trash, then helped you change into comfy pajamas (his hoodie, of course).
âcome here,â he said, pulling back the covers.
you crawled in. he kicked off his shoes and slid in beside you without being asked, pulling you against his chest.
âyou donât have to stay,â you mumbled sleepily, even though you were already curling into him.
âi know,â he replied, one hand stroking your hair. âbut iâm staying anyway. someone has to make sure you donât choke on your own tongue or something.â
you laughed softly. âromantic.â
âshut up and sleep, princess.â
you did, warm and safe in his arms, the distant thump of the party long forgotten.
