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NSFW. boyfriend!satoru just can’t stop playing with your tits
The very first time you slept with Satoru, you immediately knew he was a certified tit guy.
He’d spent what felt like forever massaging them, sucking on your nipples, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh—completely lost in it—while you were practically throbbing and dying for him to finally fuck you.
Two years later, nothing had changed. If anything, he’d only gotten worse.
He touched them every single chance he got: insisting on showering together just so he could lather your breasts with slippery soap and play with them under the hot water, absentmindedly teasing your nipples when he slung an arm around your shoulders on the couch, and even sucking melted ice cream straight off them like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But your ovulation week? That was his absolute favorite.
Your tits always swelled up—rounder, heavier, impossibly more sensitive. And today was one of those days.
It was stupidly hot, so you’d skipped the bra entirely and thrown on your usual lazy outfit at home: tiny sleep shorts and a thin, loose tank top with spaghetti straps.
You hadn’t thought twice about it… until you felt Satoru’s gaze burning into you.
“Fuck,” he breathed, mouth hanging open, eyes glued to your chest. “They’re practically spilling out over the edge of that little top, baby.”
Before you could even respond, he closed the distance in five long strides. One large hand settled possessively on your waist, pulling you flush against him, while the other boldly traced slow, reverent circles over the full, heavy curve of your breast.
“Goddamn,” he muttered, voice already husky. “Look at you. So fucking full today.”
His thumb brushed over your nipple through the thin fabric, and it stiffened instantly, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight between your legs. A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.
He didn’t wait for permission. He never really did when it came to your tits. In one smooth motion, he tugged the strap of your tank top down your shoulder, freeing one breast completely. The cool air hit your heated skin, making your nipple tighten even more.
Satoru’s eyes darkened with hunger.
He leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue over it slowly, savoring the way you shivered. Then he latched on, sucking greedily while his hand continued kneading the soft, overflowing flesh of your other breast.
You could feel how hard he already was against your stomach
He pulled back just enough to speak, lips glistening, voice wrecked. “C’mere. I need both of them in my mouth.”
Without warning, he scooped you up like you weighed nothing and carried you to the couch, dropping down with you straddling his lap. He yanked the other strap down, fully exposing your chest, and buried his face between your tits with a deep, contented groan.
His hands never stopped moving—squeezing, pushing them together, thumbs flicking over your sensitive peaks as he alternated between sucking and licking like a man starved.
You were getting so turned on watching him play with your tits that you didn’t think twice. You slid off his lap, dropped to your knees in front of him, and eagerly pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, hard and flushed, already glistening at the tip. The sight made your mouth water.
You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your body burning with need, the heat intensified by your ovulation.
“Oh god, you’re gonna spoil me rotten baby” he said softly, almost in awe as you pressed your swollen tits around his length.
You pushed them together tightly, enveloping him in soft, warm flesh. Then, looking up at him, you parted your lips and let your tongue hang out obediently, waiting.
“Fuck— that’s it,” he moaned, eyes darkening. “Such a good girl.”
He started thrusting slowly between your breasts, savoring every slide. With each upward thrust, the flushed head of his cock brushed against your waiting tongue, leaving a trail of salty precum on it.
“You’re getting so turned on, aren’t you?” he murmured, voice sweet and filthy at the same time. “I can see it in your eyes…Bet you’re already soaking those little shorts for me.”
He kept a steady rhythm, fucking your tits while his hands gently squeezed and played with them, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples and your own hands.
“Feels so fucking good… warm and soft,” he groaned, hips stuttering a little when the tip of his cock dragged across your tongue again. “You drive me crazy.”
Your cheeks were flushed, thighs pressing together as the ache between your legs grew stronger. Every thrust made you wetter, your body throbbing with need while he used your heavy, sensitive breasts exactly how he wanted.
Satoru’s breathing grew heavier, his thrusts a little faster, but he held back, clearly trying not to cum yet. He wanted to save it for your pussy.
“C’mon, baby,” he rasped, voice rough with desire. “I’ll fuck you nice and deep just like you need.”
He suddenly stood up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you toward the bedroom, kissing you hungrily on the way. His hard cock pressed against your soaked shorts with every step.
Once he laid you down on the bed, he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and full of lust.
“I’m gonna cum so much inside you…” he murmured against your lips, voice low and filthy, “I’ll fill you up until it takes.”
You whimpered at his words, a rush of heat flooding your body as you imagined it — your belly swelling, your tits growing even bigger and heavier, and Satoru being even more obsessed with them, sucking and fucking them while you were pregnant.
He smirked, noticing the way your thighs squeezed together.
“Yeah? You like that idea, don’t you?” he teased, sliding his hand between your legs. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure to abuse these pretty tits even more when they’re full of milk.”
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.
it took you nearly a decade to get used to the rhythm of your menstrual cycle.
hot soups daily, magnesium supplements with every meal. paracetamol when the cramps got too bad. breathable clothes. only getting up to change your pad, or grab snacks from the kitchen.
but most times you’d simply be curled up in bed with a heat pack on your belly, watching 4-hour video essays on soviet architecture or obscure video games. at some point, you started wondering if fertility was worth all this suffering.
until you started dating sukuna.
even now, you weren't sure how you managed to pull him. this gorgeous, 6'2 mountain of a man with calloused hands and a line of women begging for a chance, finally picking you for the princess treatment.
safe to say, he was your everything. so if you were feeling particularly distraught by your hormones that month, you’d call your boyfriend.
“baby,” you mutter into your phone, staring at the ceiling with an empty pack of chips on your belly. “when are you home?”
“hour left.” there’s the sound of metal scraping against asphalt, then a tool falling. his sigh crackles through the speaker. “you okay?”
your eyes tear up.
“no.”
he’s home in twenty-two minutes.
the front door slams. heavy boots drop to the floor in two familiar thuds followed by the rustling of plastic bags (probably the takeout you asked for before he hung up).
he calls your name from the foyer, and you’re already reaching for him when he fills the doorway of your shared bedroom. still in his worn carhartt pants, a smudge of grease coating his forearm.
the moment he spots you, his tired, pale gaze softens.
“i love you,” you whine as he approaches, willing him into bed with a single, pitiful look.
his jaw ticks, and though he doesn’t say it back (he rarely does), he doesn’t have to anymore. not when his hand slides under the blanket and finds your belly, palm warm and calloused, pressing hard where it hurts most.
“want me to help?” he rasps against your neck, already curled into your side like a guard dog.
you know what help meant during these days. towel down, clothes off, and fucking all the cramps out of your body until you fell asleep with his cock still inside you.
“yes.”
he doesn’t wait, mouth crashing to yours in hunger, then softer across your forehead, eyelids, and the hinge of your jaw. he sucks a bruise into your neck until you’re grabbing at his shirt, which is how he knows you’re ready.
“on your back,” he commands.
you obey, letting your legs lie slack on the mattress.
his kisses travel down your belly, shoving your ratty t-shirt up to your ribs. his lips drag over the scorching skin where the heat pack just sat. he bites the soft flesh of your hip, then soothes it with his tongue.
“ryo,” you bite your lip.
his eyes flicker up from your waist, mid-nip. “yeah?”
“you don’t have to.”
“i know,” he kisses your hip, just above the elastic of your panties. “i want to.”
he hooks his fingers into your shorts and yanks, taking your underwear with. the cool air hits your slick, aching core and you gasp. he’s already there, hands shoving your knees apart so he can settle his broad shoulders between your thighs.
“scoot down, baby.” he instructs, grabbing your hips with those big, strong hands and pulling you further down the bed.
you’ve had sex on your period before. sukuna never minded the grit and grime of it all, and a part of you wondered if, really, he found a personal pleasure in fucking his girlfriend while she bled.
the first time you’d been shy about it, he’d looked at you like you’d grown a second head.
it’s just blood, he’d say. i’m a grown man.
but this was different.
because this time, he wanted to eat you out.
“fuck,” he breathes, placing either hand on your thighs and pressing. his eyes are narrowed, lips parted in awe at your pussy.
he leans in, breath tickling your skin as he continues assaulting your thighs with kisses and bites. you’re already squirming when he dives deeper. the flat of his tongue licks a long, vulgar stripe from your entrance riiiiight up to your clit.
“ryo, baby,” you whine, hips bucking. “please don’t be a tease, i’m–”
he wraps his arms around your thighs, locks you down in place, then devours you whole. his mouth is ravenous, pressing flush against your cunt like he’s been starving for it all damn day.
and sure, he’s eaten you out countless times before, but it’s never felt this lewd.
he laps at your slit, hot and messy, then dips his tongue inside just to feel you clench. you slap your hand over the back of his head, fingers threading through the pink locks to pull him closer into you.
“kuna–”
he latches onto your clit and suckles hard. between those quick, ruthless flicks, you can feel the smug curl of his smirk digging into your folds.
“taste so fuckin’ good, bunny,” his voice rumbles against your pussy. “can’t believe you never let me do this before.”
you were far past coy and shame, your back arching with the taut feeling brewing in your gut.
and then, as if his hot tongue wasn’t enough, he shoves two thick fingers inside your red-slick entrance without warning. the stretch is perfect, and before you can even gasp at the fullness, he begins to curl them. they press against your favorite spot over, and over, and over until you’re practically vibrating from stimulation and itching to cum.
and when your hips buck into him again, your boyfriend chuckles against you. he sucks on your clit a final time, popping off with an obscenely wet sound that makes you shudder.
“suku,” you breathe heavily, gazing down at the mop of messy hair peeking over your hips. “don’t stop yet…”
kuna’s eyes are blown with desire, a smirk tugging at his mouth. like a wolf after a hunt, his mouth is stained with a wash of red that suddenly looks torturously attractive to your sex-drunken mind. why haven’t you let him do this before?
he pulls out of you, slick digits rubbing slow, messy circles against your clit for a few languid moments. you’re pretty much ready to burst, eyes shut as you moan raggedly, before he suddenly decides to detach from you completely.
“no,” you whine, feeling the coil in your belly unwinding. “no, no–”
but when your eyes open again, he’s already lying flat on his back, pulling you by the hips.
“sit on my face,” he instructs.
your eyebrow rises, still delirious from your near-climax. “sit on your–”
but you’re being yanked on top of him already, his hands tights against your waist. you yelp at the sudden shift in gravity, leaning your arms against the bedframe for balance.
you look down and–
oh.
his face is right beneath you. slick lips and a sweat-glazed forehead, his dark eyes staring hungrily at your hovering cunt like it’s his last meal.
“sit.”
he doesn’t wait for you to oblige, pulling you down hard. your clit hits his nose, pussy smothering his mouth, and then he gets to work.
his tongue thrusts into your entrance, then drags a looooong, hard stripe up your entire slit. he’s groaning into you, the deep vibrations shooting straight up your spine.
“oh,” your breath catches, “oh, fuck.”
his strong arms flex around your thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin there. and when his pace increases, you feel his nose flicking against your clit with every lap. the sound is obscene. little lap lap lap’s of wetness filling the room alongside your mewls.
so with your body trapped and your orgasm waiting just around the corner, you decide to chase it.
you grind desperately against his face, tits bouncing from the recoil as your pussy rubs greedily against his warm mouth and tongue. his face is smeared with slick, barely able to catch a breath, yet sukuna doesn’t stop.
he takes your pussy like a champ, praising you with low growls that shoot straight through you. his hands travel up to your hips, tracing slow circles like he’s telling you it’s okay, baby. this is how i show my love. use me as you like.
so you do.
through your milky gaze, you catch a glimpse of him looking up at you with those dark, narrowed eyes and a slight furrow in his eyebrow. almost feels like he’s grinning.
and then, just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter, you feel him chuckle darkly against your clit.
“gonna cum,” you whine. he’s still working steadily at your clit, alternating between long licks and sharp suckles until the coil in your belly reaches an apex. “i-i’m gonna fuckin’ cum–”
he groans against your clit one last time, and the sensation finally sends you over the edge.
“ryo–” you moan. “ryo, ryo, ryo–”
you cum with your head thrown back, knuckles white on the headboard and your thighs clenching so hard you nearly suffocate him. he keeps lapping you through it, drinking in every little sound and spasm until your vision whites out.
your hips continue gyrating lazily against him until you’re a babbling, flushed mess.
“atta girl,” you catch when the ringing in your ears subsides, feeling his lips press a wet kiss to your oversensitive clit. “so fuckin’ pretty like this.”
you use the remnants of your energy to collapse next to him with a loud, satisfied exhale.
he pulls you into his side. you smile in delirium, half-naked and probably a total mess from the waist-down. but you’re so sleepy, and he’s so warm, and you’re in that short moment after climax when nothing matters; you’d change the sheets later.
you’re drifting already, limbs feeling like lead when the mattress shift as he stands up. there’s the rustle of fabric, then footsteps, but you’re too tired to tell him stay.
then a damp towel presses against your thighs, hips, and pussy. enjoying the coolness, you breathe peacefully, letting your sweet boyfriend clean you up from the mess he made.
he crawls back in once he’s done, pulling you into his chest.
“cramps gone?” he asks.
you nod against him, boneless and golden. “thank you.”
“mhm,” his palm finds your belly again, lips pressing to your temple. “just for my girl.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You knew you were getting sick the second you woke up. Your whole body felt heavy, your throat burned every time you swallowed, and your head was pounding so badly that even opening your eyes felt like too much work. You tried convincing yourself it wasn't that bad, but the second you pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, the room started spinning. You groaned and let yourself fall back onto the mattress, deciding that maybe pretending to sleep a little longer would somehow fix everything.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and Nanami walked in. He was already dressed for work, his tie still hanging loosely around his neck while he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. The moment he looked over at you, he stopped. He didn't ask if you were feeling alright because he could already tell the answer. Instead, he quietly walked over to the bed and rested the back of his hand against your forehead before letting it linger for a second.
"You've got a fever."
You sighed dramatically before looking up at him. "I'll live."
"I know you will."
His answer was so calm and matter-of-fact that you couldn't help smiling despite how awful you felt.
"I just need more sleep."
"You need more than sleep."
You watched him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. "What are you doing?"
"I'm staying home."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
"But you're going to anyway."
"Yes."
That was the end of the conversation. Nanami wasn't stubborn in the loud, dramatic kind of way. He was stubborn in the quiet way. Once he made a decision, there was no changing his mind, and you knew better than to waste your energy trying.
By the time you woke up from another nap, the apartment smelled like homemade soup. The curtains had been closed enough to keep the room dim without making it dark, your water bottle had been refilled, and your medicine was neatly sitting on the nightstand beside you. There was even an extra blanket tucked around your legs that definitely hadn't been there before. You smiled to yourself because you hadn't noticed him doing any of it.
When Nanami came back into the room carrying a tray, you blinked at him in surprise. "You cooked?"
"I did."
"I thought we'd order takeout."
"I considered it," he replied as he carefully placed the tray in front of you. Before handing you the bowl, he reached over and adjusted the blanket around your shoulders like it was second nature. "This seemed better."
You looked down at the soup before taking a spoonful. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was warm, comforting, and exactly what you needed.
"This is really good."
"I'm glad."
That was all he said, but you caught the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he picked up the book he'd left on the bedside table.
After you finished eating, he handed you your medicine along with a glass of water. You stared at the pills for a long moment before looking back at him.
"I don't want to take it."
"I figured."
"It tastes disgusting."
"It does."
"So maybe I just... don't?"
Nanami looked at you over the top of his glasses.
"No."
You sighed dramatically. "...It was worth a try."
"It was."
You couldn't help laughing before taking the medicine anyway. The second you swallowed it, you made a face.
"I hate that you're always right."
"I wouldn't say always."
"Most of the time."
"I'll accept that."
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Nanami wasn't the type to hover over you or ask every five minutes if you needed anything. Instead, he simply noticed the little things before you did. Whenever your water bottle was almost empty, he'd refill it without saying a word. Every time you kicked the blanket off while you slept, you'd wake up with it tucked neatly back around you. When you started coughing more than usual, he'd already be walking back into the room with a mug of tea before you even thought to ask for one. He never made a big deal out of taking care of you. He just did it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
By the evening, your fever had finally started to come down. Your head still hurt, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been that morning. You stretched carefully before looking over at him.
"I think I'm starting to feel better."
"You look better."
"I think your soup fixed me."
"I think the medicine deserves some credit."
"I disagree."
"I know."
You smiled, shaking your head. "You know, you've been taking care of me all day."
"I have."
"You really didn't have to stay home."
"I wanted to."
There wasn't any hesitation in his voice, and he didn't seem embarrassed by the admission either. He simply said it because it was true.
"I'd rather be here."
Your heart melted a little.
You shifted closer until your shoulder lightly bumped against his arm. He glanced over from his book.
"What?"
"I missed you."
"I've been sitting beside you all day."
"I know." You smiled softly. "I still missed you."
He looked at you for a long moment before quietly closing his book and setting it on the bedside table. Without saying anything else, he opened one arm, silently inviting you closer.
You didn't hesitate. You leaned against him, resting your head on his chest while his arm settled comfortably around your shoulders. He was warm—comfortably warm—and listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat somehow made everything feel better. The ache in your body wasn't completely gone, but with him holding you, it didn't seem nearly as overwhelming.
After a few quiet minutes, you looked up at him.
"Thank you."
"You've thanked me enough."
"I don't think I have."
Before he could say anything else, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. It wasn't rushed or dramatic. It was slow, gentle, and familiar, the kind of kiss that said everything neither of you really needed to put into words.
For just a second, Nanami looked surprised, but it disappeared almost immediately. His hand came up to rest against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin as he kissed you back just as softly. When the kiss ended, he stayed close enough that your foreheads were still touching.
"You know," he said quietly, "there's a very real chance I'll catch your cold now."
You smiled.
"And yet you kissed me back."
"I did."
"No regrets?"
"I'll survive."
You laughed, shaking your head.
"You're unbelievable."
"So I've been told."
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear before pressing one last gentle kiss against your forehead. Then he reached over, pulling the blanket back around your shoulders with the same quiet care he'd shown all day.
"Now get some sleep."
You looked up at him with a sleepy smile. "You'll stay?"
He looked at you like the answer should have been obvious.
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere."
With your hand still resting in his and the steady warmth of his presence beside you, you let your eyes slowly close. Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all. Not when Nanami was the one taking care of you.
You knew you were getting sick the second you woke up. Your whole body felt heavy, your throat burned every time you swallowed, and your head was pounding so badly that even opening your eyes felt like too much work. You tried convincing yourself it wasn't that bad, but the second you pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, the room started spinning. You groaned and let yourself fall back onto the mattress, deciding that maybe pretending to sleep a little longer would somehow fix everything.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and Nanami walked in. He was already dressed for work, his tie still hanging loosely around his neck while he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. The moment he looked over at you, he stopped. He didn't ask if you were feeling alright because he could already tell the answer. Instead, he quietly walked over to the bed and rested the back of his hand against your forehead before letting it linger for a second.
"You've got a fever."
You sighed dramatically before looking up at him. "I'll live."
"I know you will."
His answer was so calm and matter-of-fact that you couldn't help smiling despite how awful you felt.
"I just need more sleep."
"You need more than sleep."
You watched him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. "What are you doing?"
"I'm staying home."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
"But you're going to anyway."
"Yes."
That was the end of the conversation. Nanami wasn't stubborn in the loud, dramatic kind of way. He was stubborn in the quiet way. Once he made a decision, there was no changing his mind, and you knew better than to waste your energy trying.
By the time you woke up from another nap, the apartment smelled like homemade soup. The curtains had been closed enough to keep the room dim without making it dark, your water bottle had been refilled, and your medicine was neatly sitting on the nightstand beside you. There was even an extra blanket tucked around your legs that definitely hadn't been there before. You smiled to yourself because you hadn't noticed him doing any of it.
When Nanami came back into the room carrying a tray, you blinked at him in surprise. "You cooked?"
"I did."
"I thought we'd order takeout."
"I considered it," he replied as he carefully placed the tray in front of you. Before handing you the bowl, he reached over and adjusted the blanket around your shoulders like it was second nature. "This seemed better."
You looked down at the soup before taking a spoonful. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was warm, comforting, and exactly what you needed.
"This is really good."
"I'm glad."
That was all he said, but you caught the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he picked up the book he'd left on the bedside table.
After you finished eating, he handed you your medicine along with a glass of water. You stared at the pills for a long moment before looking back at him.
"I don't want to take it."
"I figured."
"It tastes disgusting."
"It does."
"So maybe I just... don't?"
Nanami looked at you over the top of his glasses.
"No."
You sighed dramatically. "...It was worth a try."
"It was."
You couldn't help laughing before taking the medicine anyway. The second you swallowed it, you made a face.
"I hate that you're always right."
"I wouldn't say always."
"Most of the time."
"I'll accept that."
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Nanami wasn't the type to hover over you or ask every five minutes if you needed anything. Instead, he simply noticed the little things before you did. Whenever your water bottle was almost empty, he'd refill it without saying a word. Every time you kicked the blanket off while you slept, you'd wake up with it tucked neatly back around you. When you started coughing more than usual, he'd already be walking back into the room with a mug of tea before you even thought to ask for one. He never made a big deal out of taking care of you. He just did it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
By the evening, your fever had finally started to come down. Your head still hurt, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been that morning. You stretched carefully before looking over at him.
"I think I'm starting to feel better."
"You look better."
"I think your soup fixed me."
"I think the medicine deserves some credit."
"I disagree."
"I know."
You smiled, shaking your head. "You know, you've been taking care of me all day."
"I have."
"You really didn't have to stay home."
"I wanted to."
There wasn't any hesitation in his voice, and he didn't seem embarrassed by the admission either. He simply said it because it was true.
"I'd rather be here."
Your heart melted a little.
You shifted closer until your shoulder lightly bumped against his arm. He glanced over from his book.
"What?"
"I missed you."
"I've been sitting beside you all day."
"I know." You smiled softly. "I still missed you."
He looked at you for a long moment before quietly closing his book and setting it on the bedside table. Without saying anything else, he opened one arm, silently inviting you closer.
You didn't hesitate. You leaned against him, resting your head on his chest while his arm settled comfortably around your shoulders. He was warm—comfortably warm—and listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat somehow made everything feel better. The ache in your body wasn't completely gone, but with him holding you, it didn't seem nearly as overwhelming.
After a few quiet minutes, you looked up at him.
"Thank you."
"You've thanked me enough."
"I don't think I have."
Before he could say anything else, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. It wasn't rushed or dramatic. It was slow, gentle, and familiar, the kind of kiss that said everything neither of you really needed to put into words.
For just a second, Nanami looked surprised, but it disappeared almost immediately. His hand came up to rest against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin as he kissed you back just as softly. When the kiss ended, he stayed close enough that your foreheads were still touching.
"You know," he said quietly, "there's a very real chance I'll catch your cold now."
You smiled.
"And yet you kissed me back."
"I did."
"No regrets?"
"I'll survive."
You laughed, shaking your head.
"You're unbelievable."
"So I've been told."
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear before pressing one last gentle kiss against your forehead. Then he reached over, pulling the blanket back around your shoulders with the same quiet care he'd shown all day.
"Now get some sleep."
You looked up at him with a sleepy smile. "You'll stay?"
He looked at you like the answer should have been obvious.
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere."
With your hand still resting in his and the steady warmth of his presence beside you, you let your eyes slowly close. Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all. Not when Nanami was the one taking care of you.
You knew you were getting sick the second you woke up. Your whole body felt heavy, your throat burned every time you swallowed, and your head was pounding so badly that even opening your eyes felt like too much work. You tried convincing yourself it wasn't that bad, but the second you pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, the room started spinning. You groaned and let yourself fall back onto the mattress, deciding that maybe pretending to sleep a little longer would somehow fix everything.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and Nanami walked in. He was already dressed for work, his tie still hanging loosely around his neck while he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. The moment he looked over at you, he stopped. He didn't ask if you were feeling alright because he could already tell the answer. Instead, he quietly walked over to the bed and rested the back of his hand against your forehead before letting it linger for a second.
"You've got a fever."
You sighed dramatically before looking up at him. "I'll live."
"I know you will."
His answer was so calm and matter-of-fact that you couldn't help smiling despite how awful you felt.
"I just need more sleep."
"You need more than sleep."
You watched him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. "What are you doing?"
"I'm staying home."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
"But you're going to anyway."
"Yes."
That was the end of the conversation. Nanami wasn't stubborn in the loud, dramatic kind of way. He was stubborn in the quiet way. Once he made a decision, there was no changing his mind, and you knew better than to waste your energy trying.
By the time you woke up from another nap, the apartment smelled like homemade soup. The curtains had been closed enough to keep the room dim without making it dark, your water bottle had been refilled, and your medicine was neatly sitting on the nightstand beside you. There was even an extra blanket tucked around your legs that definitely hadn't been there before. You smiled to yourself because you hadn't noticed him doing any of it.
When Nanami came back into the room carrying a tray, you blinked at him in surprise. "You cooked?"
"I did."
"I thought we'd order takeout."
"I considered it," he replied as he carefully placed the tray in front of you. Before handing you the bowl, he reached over and adjusted the blanket around your shoulders like it was second nature. "This seemed better."
You looked down at the soup before taking a spoonful. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was warm, comforting, and exactly what you needed.
"This is really good."
"I'm glad."
That was all he said, but you caught the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he picked up the book he'd left on the bedside table.
After you finished eating, he handed you your medicine along with a glass of water. You stared at the pills for a long moment before looking back at him.
"I don't want to take it."
"I figured."
"It tastes disgusting."
"It does."
"So maybe I just... don't?"
Nanami looked at you over the top of his glasses.
"No."
You sighed dramatically. "...It was worth a try."
"It was."
You couldn't help laughing before taking the medicine anyway. The second you swallowed it, you made a face.
"I hate that you're always right."
"I wouldn't say always."
"Most of the time."
"I'll accept that."
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Nanami wasn't the type to hover over you or ask every five minutes if you needed anything. Instead, he simply noticed the little things before you did. Whenever your water bottle was almost empty, he'd refill it without saying a word. Every time you kicked the blanket off while you slept, you'd wake up with it tucked neatly back around you. When you started coughing more than usual, he'd already be walking back into the room with a mug of tea before you even thought to ask for one. He never made a big deal out of taking care of you. He just did it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
By the evening, your fever had finally started to come down. Your head still hurt, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been that morning. You stretched carefully before looking over at him.
"I think I'm starting to feel better."
"You look better."
"I think your soup fixed me."
"I think the medicine deserves some credit."
"I disagree."
"I know."
You smiled, shaking your head. "You know, you've been taking care of me all day."
"I have."
"You really didn't have to stay home."
"I wanted to."
There wasn't any hesitation in his voice, and he didn't seem embarrassed by the admission either. He simply said it because it was true.
"I'd rather be here."
Your heart melted a little.
You shifted closer until your shoulder lightly bumped against his arm. He glanced over from his book.
"What?"
"I missed you."
"I've been sitting beside you all day."
"I know." You smiled softly. "I still missed you."
He looked at you for a long moment before quietly closing his book and setting it on the bedside table. Without saying anything else, he opened one arm, silently inviting you closer.
You didn't hesitate. You leaned against him, resting your head on his chest while his arm settled comfortably around your shoulders. He was warm—comfortably warm—and listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat somehow made everything feel better. The ache in your body wasn't completely gone, but with him holding you, it didn't seem nearly as overwhelming.
After a few quiet minutes, you looked up at him.
"Thank you."
"You've thanked me enough."
"I don't think I have."
Before he could say anything else, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. It wasn't rushed or dramatic. It was slow, gentle, and familiar, the kind of kiss that said everything neither of you really needed to put into words.
For just a second, Nanami looked surprised, but it disappeared almost immediately. His hand came up to rest against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin as he kissed you back just as softly. When the kiss ended, he stayed close enough that your foreheads were still touching.
"You know," he said quietly, "there's a very real chance I'll catch your cold now."
You smiled.
"And yet you kissed me back."
"I did."
"No regrets?"
"I'll survive."
You laughed, shaking your head.
"You're unbelievable."
"So I've been told."
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear before pressing one last gentle kiss against your forehead. Then he reached over, pulling the blanket back around your shoulders with the same quiet care he'd shown all day.
"Now get some sleep."
You looked up at him with a sleepy smile. "You'll stay?"
He looked at you like the answer should have been obvious.
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere."
With your hand still resting in his and the steady warmth of his presence beside you, you let your eyes slowly close. Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all. Not when Nanami was the one taking care of you.
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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…
You kept visiting the restaurant, but Uraume always tried to keep you away from going anywhere near those same dark doors in the back. Clearly, they just didn't want your visits to stall business.
That picture you took of him was still in your gallery, and you darn wished you had some more.
chef!sukuna who you meet again in that alleyway where you had sneaked a picture.
Okay fine.
You might have kept walking past this spot every day at different times to see if he'd pop up there again.
But it was all just a coincidence. Swear.
chef!sukuna who was smoking, looking peaceful- without his usual scowl, while watching some clouds floating past the narrow view of the sky between the buildings.
You, ever the genius, thought this was the moment to take another photo.
Peeking in from the side and fumbling with your phone-
"If you're going to take a picture, turn off the flash this time."
Busted.
You eeked, dropping the device down and bending down to pick it up, fumbling around like some nervous schoolgirl.
"SssorryImsososossorry!"
Of course, you were nervous, the previous time you'd seen him, you'd gotten roughly railed against a sterile stainless steel island counter top.
You had been sore for days.
"Pathetic." Sukuna mumbled, flicking ash from the half-smoked ciggy onto the ground.
You glanced up at him, that disgruntled expression and furrowed brow back on his forehead.
Great, making him all grumpy again.
Not really sure why, but you were awkwardly standing beside him now, silently fidgeting with your nails, eyes darting up to his handsome side profile and then back to your feet, shifting and toeing at one another.
"Stop it." Sukuna grunted, eyes narrowing to give you a side eye, bringing the cigarette up to his lips for one last drag.
"Sorr-"
The smoke was blown in your direction, him leaning down on purpose to get it in your mouth.
You coughed, eyes wincing and covering your mouth.
chef!sukuna who just chuckled and tossed the cigarette butt down, crushing it with his shoe, hands folding down to slide into some side pockets. Those same biceps that had manhandled you before were a bit blurry from your eyes tearing up after having that little coughing fit.
But you just had to annoy him some more, accidentally, of course.
"That wasn't very nice."
Sukuna, whose eye twitched, reached a hand back out from his pants to grab you by the top of your hair, having you stumble closer and into his chest.
He let go of the top of your head, hand gently sliding down the back of it, confusing you on the sudden change of touch, until he found the back of your neck, thumb and forefinger digging into the sides, and having you splutter out a choke from the painful pressure.
chef!sukuna who made sure his pupils where directly in front of yours, having you make eye contact. Seems like he had a short fuse.
"Nice? Are you trying to tick me off again? I hold grudges. You still haven't been forgiven for the last time," he almost spat at you, his breath hitting your face and making the hairs on your arms stand up in fear- or how turned on you were getting. Hard to tell.
"No..no..no i just.. wanted to a..!"
"I don't care what you wanted to do. I will have you slobbering against this brick wall if you squeak out one more stupid thing."
chef!sukuna who left you in the alley after the threat.
chef!sukuna who left you utterly smitten and in need of a change of panties. He hopefully hadn't seen the way your pupils dilated, or your thighs suddenly drifted together after being told he'd fuck you in some semi-public space.
This somehow made you crave that mean man even more.
-
chef!sukuna who already felt like something was going to piss him off big time since waking up and opening the restaurant.
Uraume really had tried to keep peace, but you had been too determined, and now you were an official apprentice?
Yes.
Sukuna's apprentice. Unsure if you had just snuck in or if this was official.
He didn't do internships or charity work for aspiring chefs. For… obvious reasons.
Cough. Human meat. Cough.
No less some girl that's been on his ass for about a month now.
So when he opened those large kitchen doors and saw you dressed in some poorly ironed apron and a black uniform, hair done up, and a stupidly determined look on your face………
"URAUME! Close the fucking restaurant for today."
You didn't even get to explain that you wanted to start working here or be useful (your obsession with this horrible man only growing) when Sukuna was already throwing his hat off and grabbing you by the collar to shove against the nearest surface.
"Your empty head keeps thinking of things to do to completely tick me off, doesn't it?" he growled, red irises flicking across your face, a large hand smacking across your face, palm covering your pouty lips.
chef!sukuna who was trying not to snap you in half from the way his blood boiled.
"First, you try to be some paparazzi.. then you camp in MY restaurant and claim to be some regular. And now…. playing some silly prank. An apprentice? You? You're nothing but a dumb slut. I thought i fucked that into your little brain before. Guess i wasn't thorough enough."
The way Sukuna was baring his teeth and getting close enough to have your foreheads touch, his pink bangs falling into your eyes, seemed like he was about to bite you
You just whimpered, eyes wide and breathing heavily into his rough palm. You looked like you were about to have heart eyes from him being so aggressive, trying to slot your thigh between his.
chef!sukuna who caught on to you trying to get some friction before any even happened.
"The hell are you trying to do now, feel at my dick? You can't even wait for me to put it in you?" he dug the pads of his fingers into your cheeks before letting go.
You shortly gasped, taking a breath of air. "No…"
Sukuna's hand quickly returned to your face, delivering a small slap to your cheek for you to shut up.
The only thing it really did was make you whine some more.
chef!sukuna who lifted you up on the counter, the coldness from the metal seeping in through your slacks…. for about 3 seconds before they were meanly tugged down to one of your ankles, the fabric dangling. Let's not even talk about the apron.
He slotted himself between your bare thighs, giving a light smack to the tender flesh before grabbing the undersides of your legs, pushing your knees almost up to your ears- the position making you gasp and try to bring a hand down to cover your soaked panties before they gave him an overly embarrassing view of your pussy begging to be freed and touched.
That didn't fly at all, and he pushed your arm away to press a thumb meanly right into your sopping cunt, the damp cotton acting as a thin barrier.
chef!sukuna who toyed with you only for a moment before getting impatient and ripping the sheer things open.
chef!sukuna who pressed his hips forward, making sure you'd feel through the slacks what was going to make you get even dumber in a second, the hard outline of the same cock that had you crying a mere week ago. In this same kitchen.
chef!sukuna who kept your legs spread open, keeping you in a mating press so he'd get to watch how his meaty cock prodded and prodded, collecting the juices and slick to coat himself, helping the mean thing slide inside in a few thrusts.
This felt much deeper than getting bent over, every time the tip would roughly press up and leave a kiss at your cervix, your whole body jolted, lewd moans escaping your throat. Tears doing the same by dotting on your lower lash line- too good, too rough. It was like all of your words and ability to form thoughts had been wiped clean.
"Look at you… told y-ya i just had to…shit.. do it again."
"I was right, wasn't i?"
"Cmon, answer me, stupid slut. Don't tell me you're too cock drunk to even reply.''
You really couldn't, even if you tried- some slurred out a beg for more only came out instead of an answer.
You felt that familiar, warm bloom in your lower tummy, the tension so nice and the way Sukuna was holding you down and and and… Your own hand pulled at his forearm, trying to drag it away from your leg and have his hand closer to your face.
"The fuck are you doing?" Sukuna hissed out, slowing the brutal pace for a moment to try and puzzle together what you wanted, panting and narrowing his eyes.
You whined when the buildup was starting to disappear, tugging on it one more time.
Ohhhh..
"How cute… can't cum without this? How tight do you want it?" Sukuna asked, a grin smiling down at your blissed out face.
As if you had a say on how hard he'd squeeze.
A rough hand had wrapped around the front of your throat, squeezing the sides of it just enough to make you feel dizzy. The other arm also let go of your leg to press the middle and ring finger riiight to your pulsing clit, making sure to circle it a few times.
That got you to start shaking, hands desperately both holding on to the arm choking you. One or two tears rolled down your cheek as you came around the girthy dick, your legs, now freed, tensed up and tried to wrap around his waist to keep yourself stuffed.
chef!sukuna who didn't slow down one bit after watching you get your high and only started to make it more intense.
The hand from your throat slid down, popping open the shirt, making sure to bring your bra down with his fingers to watch those tits spill past it, not even giving the pebbling nipples any attention as he was busy guiding the large hand lower.
It stopped right where your lower stomach was.
Preeesssiinngg down on the sensitive part, right where your bladder was.
Not only that, but this made the feeling of his throbbing cock inside much more intense. The overwhelming feeling after having came once didn't help either. And the pressure on your clit and just… too much…
"Too,mmmuch… toomuch! much!" You gasped out, crying while trying to arch your back upwards from the counter, head shaking, and hands gripping onto whatever they could.
"Too much, too much! " He teased back, mocking your high-pitched voice, laughing before the fingers rubbing at your clit started to smack it instead.
Each slap made you twitch and jerk- wailing out some curses and incoherent words.
Your vision went blurry, and you swore you thought you had been brought up to cloud nine.
But this new feeling started to bubble from your core.
Press press.
whose palm squished your tummy down to try and get some more squeaky sounds out of you. But it might have backfired.
A sudden gush came out of you, squirting all over his hand and Sukuna's shirt.
This did make him falter a bit, grunting at the splash getting on his face. But his hand didn't pull away, milking every last drop of your second orgasm as much as he could.
All to see you squirm and look pathetic, really.
chef!sukuna who pushed his hips flush against yours and emptied his load as deep as he could inside with a loud grunt and bared teeth- punishment for getting his pristine counter and floor wet.
chef!sukuna who got you all dressed and gave you a smack on the ass before sending you on your merry way back home. Stuffed full and all loopy from having your guts… and brain cells rearranged.
No sweet aftercare here.
Not that you cared, you'd gotten exactly what you had wanted.
Not Uraume tho.
They were left alone in the restaurant, mopping up bodily fluids from the counters and sanitizing them.
Blood and guts weren't as bad as cum and some squirt.
Maybe you should ask Sukuna if he likes the taste of pussy next time you run into him. As he's big on food and all. Yknow.
Or maybe not, he might bite it clean off if you let him get anywhere near.
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.
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.”
You just lean into him and kiss him again, quick 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.”
You just lean into him and kiss him again, quick this time.
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.”
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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.”
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