badgaldee

chef!sukuna x obsessed!reader

cw: f!reader, little plot much smut, squirting, Sukuna is really mean, degrading (calling reader slut and dumb), choking, some slapping, no aftercare sorry, rough, mentions of Uraume, mentions of cannibalism, d in p, overstim, cursing, random shit happens my bad continuation of THIS hc For the lovely @strawbrryfields4ever <33 hope u like

chef!sukuna who you couldn't get enough of.

As if you hadn't pissed him off the first time…

Your dorm room was quiet.

Too quiet, honestly.

The soft hum of your desk lamp filled the space as you sat curled up on your bed, knees tucked to your chest, phone resting in your hands. You weren’t even really doing anything on it—just scrolling mindlessly, rereading old messages you shouldn’t be rereading.

His messages.

Your stomach twisted.

You hadn’t answered him all day.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because you did.

Too much, maybe.

Every time his name lit up your screen, your chest tightened. You’d type something out, erase it, overthink it, panic, then lock your phone like that would somehow solve everything.y

It didn’t.

It just made things worse.

Your phone buzzed again.

You froze.

You already knew who it was.

Slowly, nervously, you looked down.

Sukuna: You alive?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You typed: yeah

Then erased it.

Then typed: sorry I’ve just been busy

Erased that too.

Another buzz.

Sukuna: Don’t ignore me.

Your heart started beating faster.

You swallowed hard, your thumb trembling slightly as you locked your phone again, pressing it against your chest like you could quiet everything inside you.

“I’ll answer later…” you whispered to yourself.

You didn’t.

Minutes passed.

Then another buzz.

You squeezed your eyes shut before even checking it this time—but you did anyway.

Sukuna: Come outside. Now.

Your breath caught.

Outside?

Now?

Your gaze flickered toward the window, the dark campus stretching out beyond it, lit by scattered streetlights.

Your heart started racing for a completely different reason.

You sat there for a full minute, frozen.

Then:

You: why?

The reply came almost instantly.

Sukuna: Don’t make me come get you.

Your stomach dropped.

He would.

You knew he would.

And somehow, that made everything worse—and better—at the same time.

You stood up too quickly, nearly knocking your chair over. Your hands moved on their own, grabbing your hoodie, pulling it over your head, sleeves covering your fingers like armor.

“Okay… okay…” you muttered under your breath, trying to steady your breathing. “Just go outside. It’s fine.”

It didn’t feel fine.

Nothing about this felt fine.

By the time you made it down the hallway and out of the dorm building, your heart was pounding so loud you were sure it was audible.

The night air hit your face, cool and sharp.

And there he was.

Leaning against a car like he owned the entire campus, phone in hand, expression already edged with irritation.

The moment he saw you, he straightened.

“There you are,” he said.

Your steps slowed.

“…hi.”

Too quiet.

Too small.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he took you in—your hunched posture, your covered hands, the way you wouldn’t look at him.

That familiar tension snapped into place.

“What’s your problem?” he asked bluntly, pushing off the car.

Your chest tightened instantly.

“I don’t have a problem…”

“You do,” he said, walking toward you. “Because you’ve been ignoring me all day.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I just—”

“Don’t lie.” His voice sharpened. “I can see when you read my messages.”

You froze.

“…I didn’t know what to say,” you admitted quietly.

“That’s not an excuse,” he shot back. “Since when do you not know how to talk to me?”

“I always know how to talk to you,” you said, voice trembling. “I just… didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“And instead you said nothing?” he snapped.

You flinched.

“I-I thought you were mad at me,” you rushed out, words starting to trip over each other. “And I didn’t want to make it worse and I didn’t know how to fix it and—”

“Mad at you?” he cut in, brows pulling together. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know!” Your voice cracked, panic rising. “That’s why I didn’t text you, I thought if I said something wrong you’d actually get mad and then—”

“Then what?” he pressed, stepping closer.

you backed up slightly without meaning to.

“I don’t know…” you whispered, your breathing uneven now.

“Look at me,” he said.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes stayed locked on the ground.

“I said look at me.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“I can’t…” you murmured.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll mess it up,” you said, voice breaking. “I always mess things up when I’m nervous and then you’ll get annoyed and I just—”

Your words dissolved completely as your breathing hitched.

You felt it coming.

You tried to stop it.

But the tears came anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, voice shaking. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I just didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want you to hate me and—”

Your voice broke completely.

Silence dropped hard between you.

Sukuna froze.

“…shit.”

All the irritation drained from his face instantly, replaced by something else—something caught off guard.

“Hey—” His voice lowered immediately. “Hey, no, don’t—”

You turned your face away, trying to hide it, your hands coming up to cover your face as your shoulders shook slightly.

“I didn’t mean to—” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it…”

He stepped closer again, slower this time, more careful.

“Hey,” he tried again, softer now. “C’mere baby.”

You didn’t move.

So he did.

His hand gently wrapped around your wrist, tugging just enough to bring you closer—not forceful, just steady.

When you didn’t pull away, he pulled you into him, one arm coming around your shoulders.

It wasn’t perfect.

A little awkward.

But careful.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said quietly, his voice right above your head now. “I was just… annoyed. That’s it.”

You clutched lightly at his shirt, your voice barely there. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologizing princess,” he said immediately. “You didn’t do anything that bad.”

“I ignored you…”

“Yeah, and I came at you too hard,” he admitted. “So we’re even.”

You let out a small, shaky breath.

He shifted slightly, one hand coming up to awkwardly wipe at your cheek.

“You’re really sensitive,” he muttered—not harsh, just… noticing.

You nodded faintly against him.

“…I know.”

He exhaled through his nose.

“Yeah. I can tell.”

There was a pause.

Then he gently tilted your chin up, giving you time—waiting.

This time, you managed to look at him.

Your eyes were still wet, lashes clumped slightly, expression soft and fragile.

“…I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore,” you admitted.

He blinked.

“…what?”

“I thought you were getting tired of me,” you whispered.

He stared at you for a second—then let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff.

“You avoided me… because you thought I was avoiding you?”

You nodded a little, embarrassed.

“…yeah.”

He shook his head slightly.

“That’s…” He huffed. “That’s actually insane.”

Your face fell slightly.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m not saying it like that,” he cut in quickly, softer now. “I just—” He paused, then sighed. “You’re overthinking everything.”

“…I know.”

Another quiet moment passed.

Then he nodded toward his car.

“Come on.”

“…where?”

“Out.”

You hesitated. “…like… now?”

“Yes, now.”

“…okay.”

—

You ended up sitting on the hood of his car in a quiet, empty parking lot, far from the dorms, far from everything loud and overwhelming.

The sky stretched endlessly above you, scattered with stars.

A paper bag sat between you.

Sukuna handed you a burger.

“Eat.”

You blinked. “…you brought food?”

“Obviously.”

“…for me?”

He gave you a look. “No, I brought extra for decoration.”

You gave a tiny, shy smile.

“…thank you.”

You ate slowly, still a little sniffly, your emotions settling bit by bit.

After a while, you leaned back slightly, looking up.

“It’s really pretty…”

“Yeah,” he said—but he was looking at you, not the sky.

You didn’t notice.

Your fingers fidgeted with the wrapper again.

“I really wasn’t trying to ignore you,” you said softly. “I just get scared I’ll say something wrong.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“…you don’t have to do that with me,” he said.

“I know… I just can’t help it sometimes.”

“…then tell me that,” he replied. “Don’t disappear.”

You nodded. “…okay.”

A small silence settled—comfortable this time.

Gentle.

He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly under your eye.

“You okay now?” he asked quietly.

“…yeah.”

“You sure?”

You nodded again.

He studied your face for a moment—then leaned in slowly, giving you time.

You didn’t pull away.

Your breath caught softly as his lips met yours—gentle, steady, nothing like the intensity from earlier.

It felt safe.

Warm.

When he pulled back, he stayed close, his voice low.

“…next time, just answer me.”

You gave a small, shy nod.

“…I will.”

His hand found yours again, fingers lacing together.

And this time—

The apartment is quiet when Suguru gets home. The door clicks shut, and it’s the only sound for a second.

You don’t really think about it—you just get up and walk straight to him.

“There you are,” you say, grabbing onto his sleeves like you need to make sure he’s actually there. “You’re late, baby.”

He looks tired. Not overly dramatic about it, just… heavy. Like the day stuck to him. But he still gives you that small smile. “Work ran longer than expected.”

“I don’t like that,” you mumble, already pulling him down a little so you can reach him better.

And then you just start kissing him.

His cheek first. Then again. Then his jaw. It’s not planned—you just keep going like you missed him more than you thought.

“Baby,” you say against his skin, “you worked too much today.”

He lets out a quiet breath. “This is your solution, baby?”

“Yes.”

You don’t hesitate. You hold his face and kiss him properly this time, slower. When you pull back, you just kiss his nose right after like it’s nothing.

“You’re a lot,” he says, but his hands are already on your waist.

“And you love it.”

“I manage it,” he mutters.

“Same thing,” you say, kissing him again, a little longer just to prove it.

He exhales and pulls you closer. “You’re clingy today, baby.”

“I’m always clingy,” you say, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re gone all day. I’m allowed.”

He rests his chin on your head for a second. “I was working, not disappearing.”

“Still gone.”

You pull back and look at him properly this time. He looks tired in a way you don’t like, and it makes you go a little quieter.

“Sit,” you say, nudging him toward the couch.

He gives you a look but sits anyway. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing dramatic,” you say, standing behind him.

You put your hands on his shoulders and press a little. He tenses at first, then kind of melts into it after a second.

“You’re really stiff,” you say.

“Not surprising.”

“Mm.”

You keep going, trying to work out the knots. You’re not even that good at this, but he doesn’t complain. Every now and then, you lean down and kiss his head or the side of his face without really thinking about it.

“Feels nice,” he says quietly.

“Good,” you mumble. “That’s the point.”

After a bit, you tap his shoulder. “Okay, get up.”

He barely opens his eyes. “Why?”

“Bath. Come on.”

He sighs like he’s too tired to argue. “You’re doing a lot tonight, princess.”

“I know.”

You take his hand and pull him to the bathroom. The room fills with steam pretty fast, and when he gets in, he just kind of sinks into the water like he’s been waiting for it all day.

You sit next to the tub, brushing his hair back from his face.

“Relax, baby,” you say, leaning down to kiss his temple.

He looks up at you, softer now. “You’re taking care of me.”

“Yeah,” you say, a little quieter this time. Then you kiss him again, slower.

You help wash his hair, fingers running through it, not rushing anything. It’s quiet, but not awkward. Just calm.

When he gets out, he looks a little better. Not completely, but enough.

You hand him some clothes and nod toward the table. “I made food.”

He pauses. “You cooked?”

“Don’t make it a thing.”

He looks at you for a second, then back at the food. “You didn’t have to do all this, baby.”

“I wanted to.”

He walks over instead of sitting right away and touches your face, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re good to me,” he says.

You shrug a little. “Just eat.”

“Bossy,” he mutters, but there’s no real attitude in it.

You stay close while he eats, leaning against him, kissing his cheek every now and then just because you feel like it. Sometimes his jaw. Once the corner of his mouth when he pauses.

“You’re still doing it,” he says.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t stop you.

By the time everything settles, he doesn’t look as worn out anymore.

When he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your forehead, his voice is quieter.

“Thank you, baby.”

Choso Kamo had always been clingy.

At first, you thought it was cute. He always wanted to be near you—following you to the kitchen, sitting way too close on the couch, resting his head on your shoulder while you tried to do homework, even standing outside the bathroom door just to keep talking.

“Choso,” you laughed one day, trying to shut the bathroom door, “I promise I’ll survive five minutes without you.”

“I know,” he said calmly, leaning against the wall. “I just prefer being near you.”

That was sweet… for a while.

But lately, it felt like too much.

Every second, he needed your attention.

If you were texting someone, he’d quietly ask, “Who’s that?”

If you said you wanted alone time, he’d frown like you had stabbed him.

If you got up to grab water, somehow he was right behind you.

It started making you feel crowded.

That afternoon, you were already stressed. School had been annoying, your head hurt, and all you wanted was to sit in silence for ten minutes.

You dropped your bag by the couch and sat down with a sigh.

Finally.

Peace.

For about thirty seconds.

Then Choso walked in and immediately sat beside you—close enough that your legs touched. He gently leaned against you.

“You seem tired,” he said softly.

“I am.”

He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.

You closed your eyes, trying to stay calm.

Then he asked, “Do you want me to make tea?”

“No.”

“Food?”

“No, Choso.”

“Did someone upset you? You can tell me.”

You took a deep breath.

“I’m fine.”

He stayed quiet for maybe ten seconds before softly saying, “Are you sure?”

That was it.

You snapped.

“Choso, can you please just leave me alone for once?!”

The room went completely silent.

His head slowly lifted from your shoulder.

He blinked at you like he didn’t understand what you said.

You were breathing hard now, frustrated words spilling out before you could stop them.

“You’re always here. Always asking questions, always following me around—I can’t breathe sometimes! I just wanted a little space!”

His face changed.

It was small, but you saw it.

That hurt.

Choso sat there quietly, staring at the floor.

“Oh,” he said softly.

That one word made your stomach drop.

“I didn’t know I was bothering you that much.”

“Choso, I—”

“No, it’s okay.”

But it didn’t sound okay.

His voice was too quiet.

He stood up slowly, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m sorry for being annoying.”

“You’re not annoying, I just—”

But he was already walking away.

You heard the bedroom door close.

Then silence.

Real silence.

And suddenly, it felt awful.

You sat there staring at the wall, replaying everything you said.

Too harsh.

Way too harsh.

You didn’t mean it like that.

An hour passed.

Then two.

Still no Choso.

No quiet footsteps.

No checking on you.

No him.

The apartment felt weird without him.

You walked to the bedroom door and stood there for a second.

You knocked softly.

“Choso?”

No answer.

You opened the door a little.

He was sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, staring at nothing.

His eyes were a little red.

That made your chest hurt.

“Can I come in?”

He shrugged without looking at you.

Not exactly welcoming, but not a no.

You walked in slowly and sat on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then you spoke quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

Nothing.

You looked down at your hands.

“I was stressed, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.”

Still nothing.

He finally said, very quietly, “You meant it.”

You swallowed.

“Not like that.”

“But you said it.”

His voice cracked just a little, and it made you feel worse.

“You said you can’t breathe because of me.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I hate that I said it like that.”

He finally looked at you.

His eyes were sad. Hurt.

“I just like being with you.”

“I know.”

“I’m not good at… distance.”

“I know that too.”

He looked away again.

“I thought if I stayed close, you’d know I care.”

You moved a little closer.

“I do know. I know you care. I love that you care.”

“Then why did it sound like you hated it?”

“Because I was overwhelmed and instead of talking to you, I exploded. And that was wrong.”

He stayed quiet.

You reached for his hand carefully.

At first, he let it sit there.

Then after a second, he held yours back.

Small progress.

“I don’t want you to stop loving me like that,” you said. “I just need to be better at telling you when I need space. And I should’ve said it kindly instead of hurting you.”

He was quiet.

Then he asked, “So… you’re not tired of me?”

You almost cried.

“No, Choso. Never.”

His grip tightened.

“I really thought you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

Another long silence.

Then he sighed.

“I was trying not to cry.”

You blinked. “Trying?”

“I failed.”

That made you smile a little.

“I noticed.”

He gave you a small, offended look.

“That’s embarrassing.”

“You’re still cute.”

“I’m still upset.”

“I know.”

“You were very mean.”

“I know.”

“You should spoil me for at least a week.”

You nodded seriously. “That’s fair.”

“And let me cling to you.”

You smiled a little. “Reasonable.”

“But,” he added, softer now, “I’ll try to listen better when you need space.”

Your heart softened.

“And I’ll communicate like a normal person instead of yelling.”

“Good.”

You moved closer until you were leaning against him this time.

After a second, he wrapped his arms around you automatically, like muscle memory.

Safe.

Warm.

Home.

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered again.

He rested his chin on your head.

“I know.”

You tilted your head up to look at him.

“You forgive me?”

He waited dramatically, making you nervous.

Then finally—

“Yes. But only because I love you.”

Your chest ached at how soft he looked saying it.

Without thinking too much, you leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

For a second, he froze.

Then he melted.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go again. The kiss was soft, slow, and full of everything both of you had been trying to say.

Sorry.

I love you.

Please stay.

When you kissed him again, a little deeper this time, Choso let out the softest whimper against your lips, quiet and needy, like he’d been holding everything in for hours.

It made your heart completely give in.

You pulled back just enough to smile.

“There you are.”

His face turned red almost instantly.

“Don’t say that.”

“You whimpered.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

He looked away, embarrassed.

“That was private.”

You laughed softly and kissed his cheek this time.

“Still cute.”

He mumbled something into your shoulder that sounded a lot like, “I regret forgiving you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…No, I don’t.”

You smiled into his chest.

“Good. Because I love you too.”

He held you tighter.

“And next time,” he mumbled, “just tell me you need space before emotionally destroying me.”

You laughed.

“Deal.”

And just like that, things felt okay again.