Ꮺ୧ ˚ ﹒𝒛𝒐𝒘𝒊

From the bits and pieces of his backstory you managed to put together, his family was wealthy enough to have the sort of connections to make his shows possible - but it was his own personality that made them profitable.

"Come on," he beamed, picking out a guest at random, gesturing for them to come up on the stage. They blinked, looking around nervously before hesitantly pushing off the arms of their chair and starting for the stairs. "Let's play a little game, okay?"

You'd seen it before.

Every Friday through Sunday for the past six months.

Traveling to different cities, rehearsing in the evenings, practicing stage direction rather than his tricks. He never needed to work on those. Just guiding you on where he wanted you to stand and what he wanted you to do.

Brighter smiles, wider twirls, deeper bows.

It was fun. Almost everything about him and this was.

Getting dolled up on his dime, letting him help you zip up the last couple inches of your bodysuit, listening to the chatter of the audience from backstage. Using the expensive products he provided, a full face of makeup and hair completely done, sprayed into place so it wouldn't so much as budge while you were up there with him. How you could feel the applause in your chest standing up there at the end, how right it felt to have his hand in yours when he clasped it and made sure you took your bows by his side. He made you feel needed.

You knew his routine by heart. Memorized every line, knew every step and sword that he'd pretend to slice through you in a box with, daggers being driven into wood while you were tucked safely in the hidden compartment.

But it wasn't really just the tricks people came to see.

It was him.

Something intangible about him, not just his shining blue eyes or the stray wisps of white hair poking out beneath his hat, but the energy surrounding him, the way his words boomed out through his wired mic and entangled you in his web of carefully-crafted illusions. Sure, you had the tiniest crush on him, but you told yourself it was simply the amount of time you'd been spending together, the chemistry that came with putting on performances night after night where he rambled to an entire audience of people how gorgeous you were.

Anyone who saw him would either want him or want to be him.

Even now, when he was just doing the whole boring pick a card thing, the one practically every magician did, the whole audience was only paying attention to him, trying to spot his sleight of hand.

They never did though.

Always left whispering 'how did he do that?' or trying to ask for his autograph as he walked off stage, sometimes even waiting out back to catch him on his way to his car.

This show was no different.

The same spiel, the same jokes, the same good night speech, twirling his wand in that big hand of his before waving goodbye at the crowd, all while you smiled and held onto the pretty white bunny he used that you affectionately named Gojo Junior.

The third most important part of the act really, after Satoru in second. He liked to tell you that you were the star, as if you both didn't know that he'd do just fine without your support. He could probably pick any other girl off the street at a much lesser risk of getting pepper sprayed - but he scoffed and scolded you the one time you joked about being replaceable.

Tonight came with one change you hadn't expected though, one in the form of friends you hadn't thought even existed popping up when you were both preoccupied with taking photos with a few lingering fans.

"Yo, Satoru," someone called out, and you looked up to see a man, maybe about his height clasping a hand on his shoulder. With another guy, and a pretty girl who was distracted on her phone, brown eyes glazed over with boredom. "Nice show."

"Thanks," Satoru smiled, relaxed, easy. Not the showman. Performance dropped, almost seeming like a normal guy who just happened to be in a full tuxedo, tilting his hat off as he glanced between his friends. "Didn't think you guys would come."

"After how much you talk about it?" The girl dryly said, not looking up as she exhaled.

"And her?" The other man chimed in, his deep grunt catching you off-guard as your head snapped over to him at the realization he was talking about you.

Or, well, belatedly processing that he meant Satoru was talking about you to his friends.

Satoru was unfazed though, buzzing through brief introductions and offering up their names while you nodded along, your outfit started to rub a little around your thighs as you shuffled on the soles of your heels.

Standing a little bit behind him, like you always did, watching him banter back-and-forth, used to fulfilling the role of the accessory on his arm until someone crossed the thin line separating what was staged and what was real.

"Are you free after this?" His pink-haired friend casually asked you, cocking his head to the side as he sized you up, dark eyes dragging over your exposed body and the shimmery fabric clinging to it. Sukuna, wasn't it?

You paused, considering what to say. Sometimes after shows you let Satoru convince you to come back to his place or whatever hotel room he booked, staying up late ordering pizza or whatever junk food he was craving while you watched old movies together. But he always passed out on the couch, hand in a bowl of popcorn and drool dribbling from his lips, and you usually left before he woke up.

"I'm actually-"

"She's still mine for the next, ah, two hours?" Satoru smirked, looking down at his wrist to check his watch for the time.

Except, it wasn't his watch.

Sukuna glared at him, attempting to snatch his watch back only for Satoru to take another bow, bending down too low just in time for his hand only to close around air.

"Too slow," Satoru cooed with fake sympathy, stepping back and unclasping the watch from his wrist just to dangle it in front of his face. "Gotta be quicker next time."

"Clean up isn't going to take two hours," you huffed at Satoru, snatching the watch first before holding it back out for his friend to take.

"I know," your boss pouted at you, pretty pink lips pushed together in a dramatic (and fake) display of disappointment. "I have some, um, notes I need to go over with you."

"Oh," you blinked, glancing towards backstage. "I guess I'll go get changed then."

Your performance had been pretty damn perfect.

No missteps or mistakes you could remember making, at least, frowning at your reflection as you slipped out of your heels back in your dressing room. You had already returned Gojo Junior to his cage in the corner, the bunny happily napping as you scanned the bag next to his set up for your extra clothes.

While you picked them up and started to throw them across the makeup chair, a little voice in your head slyly suggested the slim chance that Satoru was jealous. That just maybe your feelings could be mutual instead of just one-sided pining blinded by the persona you were used to him putting on.

Two sharp knocks had you snapping out of it, glancing back in time for the door to creak open before you could answer it.

"Is my lovely assistant dressed in there?" Satoru's warm voice called through the thin wood, and you instinctively checked the mirror, making sure your makeup wasn't messed up before you actually replied.

"Yeah," you called back out, stifling a sigh as you resisted the urge to put on a little more lip gloss.

"Damn," he shamelessly flirted, swinging open the door the rest of the way.

"Is that your way of asking to help?" You sarcastically muttered, shaking your head just slightly as you sighed.

"Can I?" He asked, almost managing to sound earnest.

You rolled your eyes at him, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach at the sight of him standing there and staring at you.

It wasn't that you thought his flirting was serious. You just sorta wished it was. It couldn't hurt to tease him back just a little too, right?

His blue eyes burned down your body, his jaw tensing as you turned away from him. You reached over your shoulder, making your own little show out of getting ready to strip down, glancing back to see how his face went slack. Watching him hold his breath, his grip tight on the wand still in his hand, knuckles bone-white.

"You'd make a terrible assistant," you wryly murmured, mouth twitching and fighting back a smile at how he was just standing there.

"My sincerest apologies," he purred, feigning remorse, a familiar grin twisting up on his lips as he reached up to tilt his hat, leaning against the doorframe as your fingers stopped just above the hidden zipper along the back. "Can I assist you in getting out of that then?"

You didn't say yes out loud.

Nodded just enough to answer for you, biting down on your bottom lip at the thump of the door shutting behind him.

"I'll start with the zipper first," he muttered, delivering the line like you were some audience member he had to impress. But his breath was warm on the nape of your neck, little goosebumps running up and down your arms as you barely stopped yourself from shivering at the sound of him so close.

"How sweet of you," you hummed as casually as you could, a little more pleased than you ought to be at how it felt for his long fingers to skim over your spine to reach the zipper. His other palm settled on your waist, your nose scrunching up as you realized he must have managed to slip his wand away without you noticing just to have both hands on you.

"Only to you," he quipped back, and before you could make a quick retort, he was tugging the zipper down all the way, sucking in a sharp breath at the freshly exposed skin.

Did he want to touch you as badly as you wanted him to? Ached for a connection that would catch sparks instead of fizzling in the shadows? Where you'd both stop acting like your chemistry ended once you stepped foot off-stage?

Feet planted on the ground, glued in place as he stayed there, both of you refusing to budge, daring the other one to break.

"Well?" You swallowed hard, keeping your head forward so you wouldn't have to see his face. "Are you going to help me with the rest or not?"

"As you wish," he quoted, murmuring all sweet and low in your ear as he started pulling your bodysuit off, taking his time to wiggle it past your hips and down your thighs, using it as an excuse to run his palms over every inch of you possible.

You tried to find a sliver of rationality. You'd even take regret. But there was just excitement brimming beneath the surface, desperation and craving melting together into you were just putty waiting for him to mold.

"Should I keep going?" He asked in that pretty whisper of his, making your heart stutter and race, mind reeling at his proximity, at the increasingly real possibility that you were really about to find out what more meant with him.

"Please."

He stripped you down to just your thin seamless panties fast enough it really did feel like magic, just to take off his top hat and put it on your head instead. You reached up to touch the brim, but then you were being picked up, his big hands sinking into the soft flesh of your thighs as he hoisted you in the air, carrying you with your back still pressed to his chest over to the old couch in the corner, turning around and plopping down so you were on his lap.

You gasped, surprised at how sure he was even now, in this totally new territory of your friendship? Relationship? Acting like he'd planned it all out, knew how to execute every lingering touch, practiced the way his lips would graze against the shell of your ear.

"For my next trick," he grinned, his hand skimming down your stomach and stopping just between your thighs. "I'm gonna make your panties disappear."

Your lips parted, about to giggle at how sleazy he sounded, but then you blinked - and they were gone.

"Holy shit," you breathed, too surprised to care about how much you sounded like one of his fans. "How did you-"

"That's a secret, baby," he wryly chuckled, showing you an empty hand before he used it to cup your dripping cunt. A funny pulse shooting straight down to the pit of your stomach as he pressed a feather-light kiss to your shoulder. "Spread your legs a little more for me, princess."

You always complied when it came to him.

And he always made everything worth it.

Watching two of his thick fingers disappear into your soaked cunt, with his gloves still fucking on, mouth hanging open at the way he kept plunging in and making a fucking mess of you on the couch. Could anyone else hear the filthy squelch of his digits pumping in and out through the paper-thin walls? Your moans of his name getting sloppier and sloppier, somehow turning Satoru into weak whimpers of Toru as he wrapped one strong forearm around your waist to keep you from squirming while he worked to stretch you out for his, ah, wand?

God, you couldn't even think about it like that without being filled with the lewd mental image of him trying to stick his real wand inside of you.

"I-I thought you had notes for me," you groaned, grabbing onto the dark material of his pants as you rested your head back on his broad shoulder, struggling to hold onto your slipping thoughts with every brutal drag of his fingers inside you. The fabric made it somehow even hotter, your brain going all fuzzy as he dove in all the way.

"I lied," he bluntly confessed, burying himself down to his knuckles just to see you shudder, keeping you supported as he fucked you harder with just his nimble fingers, his practiced motions making you forget how you were supposed to feel about your suspicion that he was jealous being proven correct.

He didn't want to see you with someone else.

And when you were here, when he had you like this, you couldn't really picture yourself out on a date when he occupied all your thoughts anyways.

"Are you on birth control?" He paused long enough to ask, although you were hardly coherent enough to answer.

"Mm, mhm," you half-yelped as his fingers swirled up to poke and prod in a particularly sensitive spot.

"Thank God," he groaned, yanking his digits back out, and it was only at his absence that you realized the ridiculously hard thing you hadn't noticed poking your ass was his cock.

How the hell was it so-

"S'toru," you attempted to say his name, your throat growing dry at the thought of his size before he readjusted you off of him just enough to pull his pants down and let it spring out, a thick vein bulging along the side of it, his tip a pretty shade of pink and pre-cum already leaking along the slit.

"Change your mind?" He asked, as if your toes weren't already curling at the anticipation, thighs trembling as your body aches to have him back inside you.

"N-no," you mumbled, heat pooling deep enough in your stomach you could probably drown in it. "You're just, um, bigger than I thought."

"So you've been thinking about me too, princess?" He teased, not missing a single fucking thing, apparently.

Your first impression of him hadn't been that far off.

Satoru was a pervert.

And none of your rehearsing, none of your practice could have prepared you for how it felt to be lifted up by the back of your thighs, for that fat head of his cock to snugly press against your entrance and sink in before you had time to blink.

Eyes closing just to feel the burning pressure of his thick length bullying it's way in, pushing past the first ring of resistance to claim the rest of your body as his.

"Can I tell you something?" He whispered in your ear, all hoarse and rough, right as he folded you further, his cock rubbing against your walls and making space for himself.

You tried to respond.

But the only thing that came out was a fuzzy moan, messy syllables slurred together as you felt your insides getting pushed around, shoved up, up, up until you thought there surely wasn't any room anymore. Yet, he just kept pushing in deeper, inch after inch until you started to wonder if he was about to reach your lungs at this rate.

"Been fucking my fist after every show thinkin' about you," he rambled, oblivious to your whines, or maybe just spurred on by them. "Thinking about how this would feel."

He groaned, all deep and gravelly, bottoming out and hitting your womb while he was at it, reflexively jolting just for him to chuckle, pulling you right back down to meet him. Keeping you pinned, his hands on your thighs and your back to his chest, completely connected.

"Y-you could've said something," you cried out, tears collecting in your lashes as the pleasure started to condense into a hard ball at your core, pinging around and demanding attention as he started rutting his hips up, pulling out and pushing in at a pace you couldn't believe he was keeping up.

The couch creaked louder, the frame of it smacking into the wall as his thrusts picked up, your brain freezing as his tongue abruptly dragged up your throat before he started to leave a trail of kisses in time with his thrusts.

"I didn't want to lose you," he admitted, and you wondered if he could feel the way you clamped down, squeezing hard at how raw he sounded.

"You're not going to."

Satoru snapped.

Acting more like a bunny in heat, although this Satoru Junior was much meaner than the sweet ball of fur in the corner.

Fucking into you fast and hard, one of his hands moving to sweep over the swollen bundle of nerves between your thighs, making quick work of stroking and soothing your need as if he could sense it himself. The friction of the fabric only heightened it, his gloved fingers catching over your clit with adoration and perfected pressure. Treating you like his new favorite trick, delicately tracing over it, practicing different patterns until he found the one that made you throw your head back, a strangled gasp stringing through the air as he repeated it again and again.

"Oh, that's it," he purred, putting on his professional bravado to disguise the way his voice quivered at that last word. "Give me a good finale."

You finished for him with a moan you hoped made him proud, squirming in his hold as he continued to finger and fuck you through it, mouth permanently parted as he kept your thighs apart enough you had to feel the force of him thrusting up to fill you with cum.

Warmth that lingered and leaked down your legs, his cock only stalling when the last drops dripped out, both of you frozen in that intimate position as you tried to blink and bring back at least an ounce of sensibility.

"Can we go again?" He muttered while you were still out-of-breath, another strained whimper leaving your lips as his teeth nipped at your neck.

"W-what?"

"I forgot to kiss you," he whined, and you could hear his pout, feel the way his lips pressed together on your shoulder. "You can make it one more round for me, right?"

His cock throbbed inside you, not going soft as he gave you a small kiss just above your collarbone.

"Please?"

"Depends," you murmured, tilting your head to the side so he had easier access to paint your neck with more affection pecks. "Are you my boss or my boyfriend?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be."

reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3

whatever the fuck it was, it all led to this: you pressed against a table in an empty dressing room, a huge body trapping you from behind so completely you could barely breathe.

his hand moved faster than you could react. fingers wrapped around your chin, tilting your head back just enough to expose your throat. his lips brushed against your neck, then his tongue slid out, hot and wet, and you couldn’t stop the quiet moan slipping from your throat. he dragged his tongue slowly along your skin, teeth grazing your jaw lightly, and the second he tried turning your face toward him, you jerked away.

“i’ll fucking kill you if you ruin my makeup.” “such a pretty face with such a filthy mouth. don’t worry, i’ll find somewhere else to leave marks on you.”

his mouth dropped lower again, this time latching onto the spot where your neck met your shoulder. he bit down, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make you gasp. then he soothed it with his tongue, sucking a bruise into your skin while his hands found your waist. the butterfly top was thin as hell, and he shamelessly yanked it down, exposing your tits.

“fuck, look at you.” your nipples were already hard, sensitive, desperate for attention. he didn’t keep you waiting. his palms wrapped around your chest, thumbs lazily rubbing over your sensitive nipples in slow circles. “perfect tits just begging to be played with.”

you bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but then he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers with just the right amount of pressure. “ah!… hnnnh!” “yeah, that’s it. lemme hear those pretty little sounds.”

he kneaded your chest, teasing and squeezing your nipples on purpose, tugging at them until you arched back against him, your ass pressing against the huge cock straining in his pants.

“nice skirt,” he muttered against your skin. “bet you wore it for me.” “wore it ’cause it matched the top.” “doesn’t match shit. you wore it so i’d have easy access.” “in your dreams.”

his hands left your chest, and for a second you thought maybe you’d pissed him off. instead, he grabbed the hem of your miniskirt and yanked it up to your waist, exposing the wet patch soaking through your panties. the cool air hit your skin and made you shiver.

he spread your legs apart, forcing you to stand wider. one hand slid around to the front, dragging slowly down your stomach until his fingers found your clit through the fabric. he pressed down hard, rubbing over it through the thin lace, and your knees almost gave out instantly.

“ah! fuck… choso!” “look at you. already wet for me, huh?” “fuck you.” “that’s the plan.” his fingers pressed against your pussy through your panties, feeling the heat there. “jesus christ, you’re soaked. and you’re really gonna stand here and tell me you didn’t plan this?”

“my body just does what it… nnngh!… does…” “there she is,” he practically purred, working slow, torturous circles against you. “wanna act all tough? your pussy says otherwise. soaked my fingers through your panties already. guess she’s my biggest fan, huh?” you wanted to argue, but the words died in your throat while your fingers gripped the edge of the vanity hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

his thumb sped up, flicking against your clit in fast, ruthless motions. you were so wet slick was already running down your inner thighs, and he pushed his middle finger barely an inch inside you before pulling it back out, coating his thumb with your wetness. “that’s right, baby. gonna show you just how small my cock really is."

the sound of his voice right by your ear, the wet noises of his fingers playing with you, the sight of it all in the mirror — it was too much and somehow still not enough. you heard the sharp click of his belt buckle, the rough sound of his zipper. then he freed his cock, the tip nudging insistently against your wet folds.

but he didn’t push in. not yet. instead, he wrapped a hand around himself and dragged the tip between your folds, sliding up, spreading your lips apart, pressing right against your clit, then back down, rubbing the head against your entrance without actually entering you. over and over again. slow and fucking torturous.

“wanna feel just how messy you got for me,” he muttered, almost to himself. he watched his cock slide through your pussy, collecting your slick. “look at that. you’re fucking soaked because of me. got me covered in you.”

“you asshol— choso, please…” “shh, i know, i know. but first i wanna see what kind of mess you can turn into. wanna feel you dripping all over my balls before i stretch this sweet pussy out.”

he kept rubbing against you, dragging himself through your folds for another fucking minute. every time the tip brushed your clit, your whole body jolted, muffled little cries slipping from your lips. “aaah!… just… ngh!…”

finally, when your legs were shaking so hard you could barely stay upright anymore, he lined himself up. he pushed in an inch — just the tip — then pulled back out immediately. then again, a little deeper this time.

“look in the mirror,” he ordered. and you did. your eyes were glazed over, cheeks flushed, chest rising with ragged breaths. one of his hands gripped your thigh while the other guided himself against you. “want you to watch me fill this cocky little pussy with my cock.”

then he slammed into you in one rough thrust all the way to the base, and you watched your mouth fall open in the reflection. a high, broken sound tore out of you, eyes widening when you saw yourself taking all of him. he was big, stretching you almost painfully, but your body adjusted greedily anyway, clenching tight around him.

“fuck… haaah! mmngh, fucckk, cho—” you whined, palms pressed desperately against the vanity. “look at that,” he grunted, nearly pulling all the way out before snapping back into you again. the sound of his hips smacking against your ass echoed through the room. “look how you take it. what happened to all that shit you were talking now, huh?”

you could barely think straight, let alone form words. he filled you so deep, so completely, stretching your walls while they squeezed around him greedily, and the mirror showed everything — your tits bouncing, his hand gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise. “still… haah!… still waiting for somethi— mmmh! — impressive.”

he laughed, but it broke off into a groan. he sped up, thrusting harder now, the mirror fogging up from your breathing. his hand left your thigh and cracked against your ass with a sharp smack. “yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he hissed, smacking the other cheek next. “can pretend all you want. your pussy’s squeezing me like it wants me buried in here forever.”

blindly, you reached back, grabbed his hair, and yanked his head toward you. he hissed from the pain, but it only made him thrust deeper, harder, his rhythm stuttering. “fuck— ha! ah! — you…” “already am, baby,” he shot back right against your ear, breath hot and uneven.

his hand found your clit again, rubbing tight circles over it in perfect sync with every snap of his hips. the double stimulation was overwhelming. you could feel the pressure building, your orgasm winding tighter and tighter low in your stomach. “cho… please… mmnh!” “please what?” he leaned down, licking a stripe of sweat from the side of your neck. “please faster? please harder? use your words, pretty girl.”

“please, just fucking move.” “there’s my good girl.” he fucked into you faster, deeper, and the sounds filling the room were obscene “the wet squelch of his cock sliding into you, your breathy moans, his low groans, the vanity creaking and rattling against the wall.

he buried his face in your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and you let him, because it felt way too fucking good to stop him. “gonna leave my mark on you,” he muttered against your skin. “make sure everyone out there knows whose pussy this is.” “you don’t” haaah… own m—” “tonight i fucking do.” his teeth scraped against your shoulder.

his thumb circled your clit while pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach, hot and relentless. your thighs trembled, your breathing broke into shaky little sobs. you wanted to hold out longer, just to make him work for it, to prove he was just another asshole with an ego way too fucking big, but he was so deep inside you, filling you so perfectly, hitting places nobody else ever could, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“choso… nngh!… i–i’m gonna.. fucckk!” “cum on my cock. cum on my cock and look me in the eyes when you do it. wanna feel your greedy little pussy milk every last drop outta me.”

your eyes locked with his in the mirror — completely glued to each other, and that was what finally shoved you over the edge. you came with a broken cry, your pussy clenching around him over and over while he kept fucking into you through it. “haaah! ah! fuckfuckfuck! choso!” “fuck, that’s it. squeeze me. squeeze my fucking cock.”

he was close too. you could tell from the way his rhythm started breaking apart, from the bruising grip he had on your thigh. you reached back and wrapped your hand around his throat. “pull out,” you said, your voice rough. “if you cum inside me, i swear to god i’ll cut your dick off while you’re sleeping.”

he froze for half a second before laughing. “you’re fucking insane,” he said, but he still pulled out with a low groan. his cock was wet and swollen, and he jerked himself off twice, three times, eyes flicking between the mirror — your ruined makeup, your fucked-out expression and your bare ass, red from all the smacks, before he came with a loud groan.

“you look so goddamn pretty, fuckfuckfuck.” his cum splattered across your thighs, dripping down onto your soaked skirt, your stomach, even a drop landing on your exposed back. he was still coming, body twitching while he slumped weakly against your shoulder, breathing hard.

you pushed yourself off the vanity on shaky legs and turned to face him. his cum cooled against your skirt, your top hanging open, your hair completely wrecked while he stared at your swollen, wet pussy and smirked. “can’t let the others see you lookin’ like this, can we? want me to clean you up?”

more ? art from @ thatsallitchief on x | sparkle from @ kthice

Puerto Rican Sukuna who watched “in the heights” and telenovelas religiously with his aunt.

His aunt always tells Sukuna he needs to find a girlfriend, have kids and settle down.

Sukuna always chooses to brushes it off with a simple  "no! don't think I'm there yet I'm just living life".

In which is aunt argues back "well you aren't getting younger you don't want to end up like your grandpa and old lonely grump do ya?".

"No tiá" the pink haired man backs down.

"Then find a Esposa so I can have little kids running around mí casa" his aunt says.

He sighs. Why should he have to rush into anything? What’s so wrong about being single forever?

"You'll have to pray really hard for that to happen" He speaks up.

"I do already, what happened to that girl you were with her hair was crazy and she was always on you" the older lady questions.

"that didn't work out tia I'm not really looking" Sukuna mumbles.

He’s never looking apparently, just another weak excuse to get his aunt off his back. But the excuses can only last so long.

"Sobrino, no puede ser soltero porque eres demasiado guapo para vivir así, ya se que no puede ser feliz así " she shakes her head in disappointment. (My God! You need a wife, you're too handsome not to find one. Living this life won't bring you happiness)

"Don't worry I won't die alone plus I have (name) to keep me company" the young man smiles to himself.

"I like her why don't you go out with her" his aunt pats his head.

"Eeh she's not into me and we are good friends" he shakes his head.

"Disparates, you're only saying that because she's too good for you" the older lady shrugs her shoulders.

"That's not it tiá".

"Sí it is and you keep believing that she's never going to like you" His aunt starts playfully hitting him on the arm.

Sukuna takes a bite out of the tostones as his focus shifts back to watching the telanovela. A vibration from sukuna’s phone slightly startles him. His aunt snatches his phone before he can answer the call.  Her face popping up into the gram of the phone.

"Hii mija como estas" the elderly lady beams in the camera.

"Bein señora is Sukuna there?" the younger girl replies back with a smile.

"Oh yes he is he told me that you're too good for him-" his aunt starts before sukuna takes the phone away.

"That's enough tiá" he grabs his phone and walks to the kitchen.

"I love your aunt" she laughs.

"Yea ustedes están volviéndome loco" Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"ey" his aunt threw her sandal at him and good aim to it hit his head.

"Did your aunt cook?" the girl continues.

"Yea I'll bring you some later" he replies.

"No ser tonto invítalo para acá que diga ella que trae Marta" his aunt hushes. (Nonsense have her come here)

Sukuna rolls his eyes "you don't have to come if you dont want to-".

"I can come I'm in that area anyways, what's one quick stop" she says in glee.

"oh ok see you when you get here-" the younger man gets cut off by his aunt.

"tell her to bring Malta”.

“ok see you soon"

He hangs the phone up

"Papa if you don't confess to her now someone else will" the senior lady chimes in.

That stays in sukuna's head he doesn't believe she'll see him in that light, she probably doesn't even feel that way towards him. In reality he's scared that she actually does believe he's not enough for her. So what's the point of getting his heart crushed and a friendship ruined.

"What are you thinking about papa" his aunt questions.

"Do you think she really likes me?" the man asks.

His aunt looks at him in administration "Suku I see the way you look at her and I see the way she looks at you".

"that's helpful" he huffs.

"listen you are an amazing boy any girl will be lucky to have you-".

"but?" he raises a brow.

"You are always grumpy, mean, childish""she starts to rant.

"ok what are you getting at tiá" he sighs.

Maybe he isn't getting it his aunt thinks" you aren't too exciting to be around yet she loves being with you and takes the time out of her day to do it".

"so what?" he lays his head on his aunt's shoulder.

"So anyone who loves you would do things like that" she huffs.

"but what if I say the wrong thing" he worries.

The older lady believes she has an idiot for a nephew at this point. "ey dios mio you always say the wrong thing and she is still here".

Hhe nods in agreement "I just don't-".

Tthe door bell rings, Sukuna gets up and opens the door for her a pack of Malta in her hand.

"Hi kuna" she walks past him into the kitchen setting the pack down on the table.

"hola Mija" Sukuna's aunt gives her a hug.

"ey mija you look tired Que pasa?"

"Oh nothing just studied” the girl shrugs.

“you need to give yourself a little break sometimes" the lady pats the younger girl's head.

"I know but what would I even do with that time" the girl puts her bag down on the nearest chair.

"you could eat like you always do" Sukuna chimes in.

"shh suku" his aunt waves him off.

"hey God forbid a girl is hungry" she laughs.

"maybe you can take her out suku so she can spend her time with you" his aunt says wiggling her eyebrows at him.

His eyes widen. "that won't be necessary tia".

"I'm not opposed to the idea we haven't hung out in a little bit kuna" the girl speaks up.

"we hung out yesterday" he deadpans.

She rolls her eyes "ok but still too long".

" sigue ahí vas a tener niñitos con pelo rosado corriendo todos lados" (soon there will be little pink haired babies running around here) his aunt claps her hands.

"EY TIÁ POR FAVOR" he groans putting his hands on his face in false agony.

"Oh- I don't you think it's early for kids?" She laughs sheepishly.

"never too late" the aunt smiles.

"I'm sorry about her" he breathes out.

She shakes her head. "it's fine kuna your aunt is just joking anyways".

"yea she loves to joke" he scratches his head.

"but it would be funny seeing little versions of you" she laughs.

His face burns red "what do you mean, like our kids".

"what? no" she laughs awkwardly.

"I mean like when you get your wife and then you have kids who looks just like you" she says shyly.

"oh because I thought you meant us having kids", he feels stupid why would he say that. STUPID STUPID.

"oh no no that's be weird right" she laughs.

"yea so weird" laughing off the pain, he sees his aunt on the couch shaking her head in disapproval.

He shrugs his shoulder "what?" He mouths.

"tell her" she mouths back.

"um (name) can I talk to you for a sec" he scratches his neck.

"sure" she looks up at him before putting the malta in the fridge.

"in private" he says looking away from her.

"oh of course ok" they walk out side of his aunt's house.

He doesn't believe he's about to do this, years of yearning, insecurity, doubt, the unbearable feeling of butterflies doing drive byes in his stomach and 18+ thoughts in his brain. Nothing would've prepared him for this moment this exact second.

"How long have we known each other" he questions.

she thinks, "oh um I'm not sure a couple years now".

"ok and in all those years I've never met someone who-" ugh he feels like he's about to puke this isn't real.

"you have been loyal trust worthy caring and tolerant of me, even though I'm such an asshole" he huffs.

"ehh you aren't so bad" she shrugs.

He breathes out. "ok but you have been here and as we got closer l've gained feelings for you, i understand if you don't feel them too but i had to let you know. a smidge of hope that i have left, because I couldn't stand the thought of losing you because I didn't have the balls to tell you how I felt".

She shook her head.

"goodness, finally I'd thought you'd never spit it out".

Hhe looks confused "huh what do you mean".

She gives him that "are you serious" look. "you're so oblivious kuna, it's sad really".

"ugh now you need to spit it out woman" he says impatiently .

"I love you too kuna I hope you know I thought it was obvious" her eyebrows fur.

Sukuna's heart beat starts to pick up."you do? But what about that whole children comment".

"l was just as nervous as you were I'd love seeing little versions of you AND me running around your tia's home" he rolls his eyes.

"l thought she scared you away! was actually going to off- " his words are cut off by her soft lips on his.

Her lips taste like a strawberry cupcake, his favorite in which it became her favorite too. His hands wrap around her waist pulling her closer as her arms wrapped around his neck, while her fingers played in his hair.

"Por fin mi sobrino nos va a morir soltero. Gracia Dios" (omg my nephew isnt going to die alone thank you Jesus) his aunt screams from the window.

Their lips disconnect, she lets out a little laugh.

"tiá Tía eres màs bulloso, vuelve a la casa" he yells out. (aunty you are so nosey get back in the house)