𝜗𝜚 your (hot) psychology professor, Geto, Pavlovs you into orgasming in class
more like this
ೃ࿔*:･
“M’gonna cum-“ you wail, nails clinging to your professor’s back as he fucks into you, cock stretching you out perfectly just as it always does.
And, just as he always does- he denies you.
“Oh no, gorgeous,” Suguru Geto purrs into your ear, “I believe you haven’t been given permission. Have you?”
You moan, hips bucking futilely. This happens every time- you’re right there, right on the precipice of an Earth-shattering orgasm, and he makes you wait. Makes you count.
“Five.”
“I can’t hold it-“
“You will. Four.”
You soak his base, strings of glossy slick snapping midair.
“Three, two… and one.”
“Oh, fuck!” You cry, tears streaming into your hair as your body caves in, cunt spasming around him as you ruin the ironed, white sheets of his bed.
That was last week, but now you’re staring at him again. Not from below, no, or even from above, grinding your hips down- but from the distance of a lecture theatre as Geto speaks on and on about psychological advances and studies.
“So, to preface the idea of the multi-store memory model, we must return back to Bartlett’s idea of rationalisation. Page 32-“
Geto blinks, textbook in hand and glasses perched on his nose. Then, he smiles. “Ah, well, I suppose this is your final class of the semester.”
There’s a flurry of confused nods and exhausted smiles, students slumped in corners with battered headphones lying on crowded desks.
“I should give you a rest… how’s this, hm? I think I’d be cruel if I didn’t let you all leave a tad early… how’s ten seconds?”
A flutter of agreement, disbelief shadowing faces already heavy with eyebags from relentless studying. Yours included- you’re confused; Geto has never ended class early, not once, no matter how many times you may bite your lip at him or suggest it with a cheek resting on his bare thigh.
“I'll count, then.” He directs casually, perching on the corner of his desk. “Let me begin! Ten…”
You freeze. Oh my god. Not now, please, please not here-
“Nine.”
Your panties flood automatically, thighs clenching unwillingly below the desk as classmates start packing textbooks into their backpacks, unaware of the slight issue you’re having.
“Eight.”
His tone is steady, grounding in the usual way he lectures on the brain and ethical debates and Milgram’s Agency Theory- and the way he breathes into your ear in the dark, fingers sliding between your thighs coolly. The thought makes you squeak behind your palm.
“Seven.”
You jolt forwards accidentally, and the girl next to you shoots you a quizzical look.
“You okay? I’m just glad he’s letting us go early, I’m like, totallyyyy behind on all this.” She says, plugging her headphones into her ear.
“Mhm, y-yep, me too.”
“Six.”
You snap back to the front of the theatre immediately, Geto looking anywhere but your flushing face. There’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing, yet he’s refusing to acknowledge it.
“Five.”
He’s refusing to acknowledge the psychological toll he’s taken on you, wiring your brain to associate countdowns with orgasms. You almost laugh in delirium- your psychology professor has permanently changed your brain chemistry: with his dick. How funny.
“Four.”
You’re struggling to relocate the humour in it, however, when you feel a bead of slick pool in your underwear. Your clit catches on the seam of fabric below your jeans just right, and you almost gasp- it’s quickly stifled behind a hand, nails clawing at your thigh.
“Three.”
You’re going to cum. You are going to actually orgasm in the middle of a lecture theatre, surrounded by peers and students who have no clue about the reason for your sudden violent twitching.
“Two.”
He looks at you then, violet piercing into your heart-shaped pupils as you tremble in your seat, pussy clenching around nothing but the soppingly wet fabric of your ruined panties. Your nails dig into the denim of your jeans, indenting the skin below with the force of it all, and Geto just smiles. Because he knows.
“One.”
Your vision almost whites out. Thighs smack together under the desk, unable to unglue themselves as your classmates slowly trickle towards the exit. Some thank Geto, some just rush out without glancing twice at him, hellbent on sleeping as early as possible.
Until it’s just you and him, the last student finally meandering out of the door. Beneath your sweater, your chest heaves in an attempt to catch any breath you can.
“Do you need to ask any follow up questions, my favourite student?” Geto’s voice drips with humour, his mouth quirking into an unabashed grin. “Perhaps about… Pavlov?”
“No-“ you gasp, voice a little wobbly as you come down from the aftershocks. “Jesus, I can’t believe you.” You’re embarrassed, cheeks pink and panties ruined, still slumped breathlessly in the chair.
Geto just tilts his head, waves of inky black careening over his shoulder as he begins to walk towards you. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and you flinch like you’ve been electrocuted.
“Good.”
ೃ࿔*:･
masterlist
a/n: I HATE my psychology course atm i just don’t care about PET scans and oxyhaemaglobin
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Nanami was fast asleep, back towards you the only sound being his soft snores that feel up the empty and dark room. Well, almost dark. Your screen was dimly lit as you doom scrolled.
Instagram, TikTok, Pinterest—repeat. You weren’t tired although you promised your husband you’d atleast try to start getting some proper sleep.
You also complain about how unfair it is, how easy he can fall asleep. But you guess that’s just the perks of old age. You turn your sound up a bit as you scroll through reels. Not even five minutes later, Nanami’s up.
His eyebrows furrow as he adjusts his eyesight. “Honey.” His tired voice rings in your ear, you discard your phone elsewhere on the bed. “I tried, I can’t it’s hard for me to fall asleep quickly.” He lets out a huff before pulling you into his chest where you can his heartbeat.
“Maybe, if you reduced the time you spend on your phone before bed—“ he kisses the top of your head. “Then maybe you might be able to go to sleep.”
You let out a weary sigh, “I’ve tried that.” You can hear him scoff. “baby love, you tried it for two minutes and you went back on your phone. “Yeah.” You nod, “still effort.” You feel him shake from the vibration of his laughter. “A for effort.” He teases.
Nanami drapes the blanket over the two of you, His fingers find your cheeks and just your face in general. “Relax them, relax your face muscles.” Once he feels you relax, he then takes his hands off. “Now drop your shoulders.” You do as he says. “Why are you so tense, hm?” He asks through the process.
You let out a deep breath, “Am I tense?” he nods, “Relax your arms and exhale.” You obey, “good, look honey, you’re doing so good.” he whispers into your ear.
You smile against him. “Now this is gonna sound a little silly—“ his hands find your waist. “Imagine some peaceful scenery, where you’re at. Could be the beach, mountains, anywhere”
Your breath comes warm against his chest, “my girl.” he murmurs pressing one more kiss to your head. “my sleepy girl.”
sometimes I write what I want to experience and it’s sad because like 💔💔
roomie!sukuna who has a weird habit of oversharing his ventures with his sexual partners to you and toji like he's just telling you about the latest thing on the news.
but it's because deep down...he knows it interests you both, that he's imprinting on you both in a way you don't even realize.
sukuna talks about how he casually dirty talked this girl while they were at a movie theatre?
you and toji are doing it on the couch during your movie night, toji's arm around your shoulders as he whispers about how badly he misses the taste of pussy, wondering the last time you had a dick that wasn't made of silicone. or how you gently rub on toji's upper thigh and giggle into his neck about how you used to love getting overstimulated with your ex, but you just find it so hard to keep pushing yourself and how badly you wish you had someone to overstimulate you until you squirt
sukuna talks about how much he loves cumming in panties as a goodbye gift to his one night stands.
suddenly, your knocking on his door, pout on your lips as you sheepishly tell him your going out with your girlfriends for the night, and if he has anything he wants to say or do. next thing you know, your on the dance floor with the sticky, hot feeling of toji's load against your cunt, dripping down your thighs and the promise that he'd clean it up when you get home and give you another load to see you nice and warm when you sleep.
and everytime, neither of you take note of the knowing look in sukuna's eyes as he watches how you both glance at each other after every filthy thing he tells you.
"such fuckin' perverts," he grumbles to himself, fisting his drooling cock as he listens to the thuds of toji's bed against the wall, knowing you both are trying out his recent mention of dry humping, because 'it can be done by anyone, don't have to be dating to rut against each other.'
𐙚 — I’m the Type to Bend Over, Take all the D*ck !
𐙚 JJK men [GOJO+GETO, CHOSO, HIGURUMA, NANAMI, TOJI+SUKUNA] x fem!reader | artwork by @/thatsallitchief | divider by @/cursed-carmine | mdni | m.list
𐙚 If there was anybody on campus that everyone wanted to get their hands on, it was you. Luckily for some guys, their wishes came true.
𐙚 a/n: these are separate but if you squint hard enough they’re connected :p
𐙚 Satoru Gojo ! ft. 𐙚 Suguru Geto !
[blowjob, slight hair pulling]
It all started at frat!jo's party.
“Well aren’t you just the prettiest star with my cock in your mouth?”
Satoru’s hand had a fistful of your hair, holding you steady while he fucked that pretty throat of yours. He finally got his hands on you after trying for for-fucking-ever. Satoru liked pretty things, and the way his heart leapt the moment his eyes landed on you for the first time was cartoonish. And it seemed you were friends with everyone except him! Even his twin brother ?! But fuckkk it was worth the wait.
“Fuck- that’s a good girl take it.” Your eyes, your pretty eyes looked up at the white haired male while he stared right back down at you. He moans at the way your knees spread on the floor, skirt hiked upon your waist while your fingers teased that pearl between your legs. So wet, the eye rolling whimpers making your pussy throb. “Gonna c—um so deeep down your- fuck- throat star.”
Frantic fingers rubbed at your clit, hips rutting against the wet fingers. Saliva began to leak down your chin, tears caught up in your waterline. And Satoru…oh Satoru. Your hips sputter against your fingers- they didn’t feel fast enough to match the speed he fucked your throat. Pretty blue eyes rolled, mouth falling open as he pushed your head deeper onto his big cock, warm globs of cum filled the space while your pussy fluttered, swallowing every drop.
“Now Satoru, who throws a party and isn’t even present- woah.” The door opens, pretty boy Suguru Geto stares at the scene in shock. Now, he’s walked in on Satoru plenty of times, but the shocker was you.
You smack Satoru’s hand in your hair, his eyes shooting open as you released him from your mouth. “Sh-Shit star wait m’still sensitive-“ All 8 thick inches, pink tip leaking sadly at the loss of warmth
“Shut up! I thought you locked the door? Stupid.”
It’s Suguru who closes the door (after stepping in and locking it). “I got to say, I’m quite surprised to see you Y/N. Thought you didn’t like Satoru.” A teasing smirk raises on his lips, Satoru’s long arm wrapping around your shoulder, cock throbbing against your skirt.
“Was all just sexual tension, right star?” A slap to your ass has you scoffing.
“You come to join Suguru?” He asks excitedly, and that’s how you ended up with your skirt wrapped in Suguru’s fist while he fucked you into Satoru’s mattress like his life depended on it. The white haired man watching while he stroked his sensitive cock to match Suguru’s rhythm. Other than the beats of the music outside, the rhythmic thump ! thump ! creak-thump ! of Satoru’s bed showed. the poor wall behind it no mercy.
“Mmmhp- f-fuck slow down-“ Breathless broken moans pouring into the soft material below you. So wet that Suguru slipped in and out of you with ease, his thick cock head bullying that sweet spot inside of you. So deep that your pussy squeezed around him, the wet squelches of your pretty cunt messily painting a white ring around his cock.
“Hah— hahhh fuck Angel- y’feel so good..”
“S-Sugu-“ Your broken whines send Satoru’s thumb to cover his tip, cum threatening to spill over that pretty face of yours. Suguru shudders, eyes squeezing shut. His hand finds the center of your back, pushing you down to deepen your arch. “O-OH—!” Your body trembles, his biggg dick slipping even deeper into your waiting heat.
“Gonna cum so deep Angel- shit- shit— cumming…fuckkkk”
Fuck. Satoru wanted to take a picture at the scene, his cum splattering across of your face while Suguru’s cock was buried to the hilt as he filled you up, and you better not waste anything.
𐙚 Choso Kamo !
[ sex while under the influence, smoking during sex, fingering, squirting ]
You’ve always been plug!Choso's favorite customer.
You never once had to pay for a damn thing, all he asked for was company while he smoked. Choso who liked you so much (just as much as about anyone) he bought you pretty pink papers to roll your weed up in.
“Stop..teasing Cho.”
Choso who spoiled you so much he called you Princess, and you didn’t mind. The same man who had his pretty lips wrapped around your lipgloss stained blunt. Red eyes low while he lazily rubbed the thick tip of his dick over your cum coated hole. Like the princess you were, you had that pretty back arched for him just the way he liked you to, pink lacy panties pulled to the side.
“It’s so wet princess..” He sighs, tilting his head back as he took a hit of the blunt, inhaling the smoke before passing it down to you.
See, Choso liked taking his time with you. Every movement he made during sex was calculated, he knew what spots made you scream, and he knew what spots would have you squirting all over his bed. Many people wanted you, but Choso had you. He didn’t want to date, just company while he smoked…and pussy.
With his focus on that pretty gaping hole of yours, ready to take him again, Choso fed you like you wanted- like she wanted. Low groan escaping his lips, your eyes closing feeling yourself make room for his big dick as you sucked him in. His hands trembled lightly at your hips, fingers digging into your skin. Inch by inch he pushed all those inches deep inside.
“Mmmfuck Cho-“ You gasp softly, your other hand fisting the sheets while he rocked against you steadily. Your lips kissed the blunt, inhaling the smoke. The moment you took that deep breath, Choso pulls allll the way out with a pop ! before shoving his cock all back in.
“Shitttt, Princess.” He whines, your warm gummy walls swallowing him, begging him to go deeper. But Choso knew what you wanted, he always knew. Shaky hands hold the blunt up towards him. The room stuffy with sex and weed. The slapping of skin echoing throughout as he pounded into that pretty pussy slow but so hard. “Need to fill you up hm?”
The blunt passed back and forth between you two, the pap pap pap sound getting louder by the second. “A-Ahh Cho——w-wait fuck-“ Your head was spinning, mouth agape while he hit that spot over and over again. Drool spilled from your lips, and Choso looked down with those red eyes…
You cry out, the blunt between you two gets put out by Choso so he could fuck you faster with no distractions.
The sight so pretty he wanted to take a picture. “Rub that pretty clit for me princess…that’s right- good girlll.”
Bite marks on the back of your shoulders (that he’d definitely get yelled at for later), your pussy sucking him in and creaming. That white ring getting bigger and bigger by the second. “Right there-“ You groan, fingers making quick work of the sensitive pearl between your legs as you leaked down your fingers.
“Mmm right here?” He smirks down at you, biting his lip while he angled for that spot— that spot he knew drove you crazy.
It only made him want to go faster. To cum inside of you again. “Wanna see this hole— mmph— dripping when m’done-“ Your eyes roll, a shuddering sigh as your body relaxes, a cool breeze pouring over you, your pussy squeezing around him- milking him.
“Th-There she is..” Choso buries himself inside of you, angling at that spot to pour alll of his cum into. “Hahhh fuck..” He lets his head fall back, letting out a soft groan as he planted his seed.
“Spread open, princess.” his voice soft in your ear, inch by inch of his slick coated cock pulling out from your leaking pussy.
“mmmph..” you hold your pussy open for him, his cum seeping out and dripping down onto the soft surface of his bed. Your fingers take a quick dip inside, a small sigh leaving your lips while you throbbing around the digits as more of his cum poured out. Choso always came a lot.
Choso stroked his cock at the sight. Both of you sensitive to the slight overstimulation. But you held it open for him, and his cock slips right back in and out, in and out as you tug gently at your clit. Your legs had a slight tremble to them, eyes squeezing shut while he rutted back into you.
𐙚 Nanami Kento !
[choking, squirting]
It’s always a hassle when you don’t want to go to the gym with 𐙚 med student!Nanami, after promising you’d lock in this time.
“M-M’sorry Nana- f—fuck s’too deep-“
“Hahh…You’re not sorry, sweetheart. You do this every week.”
Your poor couch wasn’t ready for the “at home” exercise Nanami had planned for you this week.
“Does it hurt?” He hums. The firm grip on the back of your neck loosened. Your breath unsteady as your legs shook with a wet globing mess of his cum mixed with your juices trailing allll down your thighs. Shaking your head, you hiccuped, the cushion pillow beneath your head caught majority of your cries and pleasure filled tears.
“Feels good…” You whine, pretty pussy squeezing around Nanami’s thick cock that was buried to the hilt inside of you.
“Yeah? Where does it feel good sweetheart?” He coos, voice soft in your ear. Nanami’s hips pull back, dragging his longgg cock with him until the thick head pops ! out of your pussy. He took a long swipe of his cum pouring from your hole before he thrusted back in all at once. You squeal, the grip on your neck tightening back to just the way you liked it- the way Nanami knew you liked it.
“Ri—-ight there- !” A sharp gasp is pulled from your body, Nanami’s hand finding a grip on your ass cheek to see the mess he was making. Sweet groans spilled. Nanami’s glasses began to fog. He throws his head back, biting down on his lip with a small smack ! of your ass that has your pussy squeezing around him.
“Yeah? You like when I fuck you here sweetheart?” Cock bullying your puffy pussy. You swear you could feel him right in your heart with the repeated thrust thrust thrust he poured into you. And fuckkk you were so wet, Nanami couldn’t help the loud whine dripping from his lips.
“—-um— gonna…gonna cum ‘gin Nana.” Your eyes squeeze shut. Your warning whimpers did nothing for the man pounding into you. He made it worse- thick fingers leaving your ass to that pretty pearl right between your legs. “Nana-“
“She’s taking me so well, sweetheart.” His thrusts slowed, fingers rubbing circles around your sensitive clit that has your hips jerking. “Listen to that…” The wet sounds echoing across your apartment alongside your moans would definitely be a complaint from your neighbor later.
The fingers worked at your clit. Pound after pound he poured into you, tugging at the sensitive nerve until he felt that wet splash onto his thighs. “Fuck fuck— fuck !” The loud broken whimper of your high came crashing down, Nanami’s fingers still rubbing- his cock still fucking into you while you squirted.
“Good girl, sweetheart.” His hand leaves your neck, his body feeling hot as he leaned over you, kissing the pretty tears away from those pretty eyes. “So good for me, hm?” He cums with a shuddering sigh deep into your womb. The warmth making you shiver, repeated kisses littering your cheek as you panted against the pillow.
“We’re going to the gym tomorrow. Right sweetheart?”
𐙚 Toji Fushiguro ! ft. Ryomen Sukuna !
[degrading: reader gets called a slut, blowjob, fingering, spanking, choking, public sex, anal]
Now, college is fun. You’re a smart girl who has good grades. A smart girl who likes to party and have fun also. But too much fun can cause you to get pulled over by your favorite policemen. Unfortunately, the moment you got pulled over this time you were fucked.
“I know this car. Damn, you must like getting pulled over doll?”
“Tsk tsk. Brat, can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
The taunting voices of 𐙚 police officer ! Toji and 𐙚 police officer ! Sukuna had you sighing as they knocked on your window.
Sukuna lets out a laugh, the both of them leaning on either side of your door— Toji taps the window with a smirk on his face. You let your windows down as you leaned your head on your steering wheel.
“What is it this time? You high?” Sukuna asks, straight up as he peered into your window. It wasn’t your first time getting pulled over by the two- in fact it’s always them when you get pulled over, and fuck they loved their job a bit too much when it came to you.
“No sir…” Which wasn’t entirely a lie, you were high but you’re sober now from how long you were over at Choso’s…
“Mmmhm. So why’re y’swervin like that this time of night, doll face?” Toji gruffs out as he shakes his head, tapping the roof of your car. “Cmon get out, you know the routine.”
Sukuna watched as you unbuckled your seatbelt, and he opens the door for you. The pink haired man’s flashlight flashed into your car as per the protocol, but you all knew they weren’t really going to arrest you.
Two of Toji’s thick fingers beckon you forward. His eyes trailing up your exposed legs curiously, a smirk curling in the corner of his scarred lip. It really wasn’t a good time. You were in really short shorts with one of Choso’s t-shirts that was a bit big on your frame that it exposed your bite mark littered shoulder, and the faint hickey’s littering your neck. No bra.
And then he got a realll good look at you. Your face flushed in embarrassment (and something more), your lips puffy looking, and most importantly…you squeezed your thighs together. Even Sukuna caught on and gave a knowing look to his partner.
“Hiding somethin’?” Sukuna’s deep voice from behind you sent shivers down your spine.
“No sir, Officer Sukuna.” You squeak. His body walking around yours as he looked you up and down, curious brow raised. Toji snorts, patting his shoulder as the taller man joined his side.
“Who was it this time? That Gojo boy?”
“Or is it the uhh- shit- what’s the long haired ones name?”
“Suguru Geto?”
“Yeah that one.”
The two cops laugh, beginning to talk about how much Satoru got on their nerves and how many parties they’ve had to give warning to. You roll your eyes, shifting in your step. “It was neither.”
Toji licks his lips as their focus turns back towards you. “Alright doll face. Sure I don’t need to check between those legs this time?” You bite your lip at the footsteps nearing you again. His thumb grazes your chin, tilting your head up and fuck he smelled good.
“I’m sure, Officer Fushiguro.” Your voice sweet, innocent sounding just the way everyone hears it while you bat those pretty lashes….Except Toji knew it was bullshit the moment you started acting sweet. His eyes narrow. Pulling back from you he starts walking to their car, talking Sukuna on the shoulder. The taller man pulls you in by your waist.
“What I tell you ‘bout lying brat? Hm?”
The road was dark apart from the orange hue of the campus streetlights nearby. Your body was hot as you whimpered against the dark hairs resting at the base of Toji’s cock, bent over with your legs spread, Choso’s cum leaking down your pussy while Sukuna spreads the soft skin of your ass open to watch.
“Lost your damn mind, doll face.” His big cock stretching your fucked lips, his hand finding your hair and tugging. A loud smack ! to your ass as you squealing around the twitching muscle, pre cum sliding down your throat.
Toji finds a slow steady rhythm at first, and oh…those pretty eyes looked up at him. “That’s it…take it.”
“You spoil her too much.” The man behind you huffs at his partner. Toji tugs at your hair, pulling a moan right out of you while he smirked.
“Shit- can’t help it. She’s s’pretty —heh- with my dick in her mouth. Aren’t you doll face?” He groans, saliva dripping down to his heavy balls that slapped against your chin.
You hear the clink of Sukuna’s belt being unbuckled, those thick fingers caressing your clit, making you shiver as you rolled your hips slightly for more friction. However, cum still dripped from that pretty pussy. “Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” He curses before those two fingers slip into your hole with ease- with familiarity. A loud squelch ! echoed throughout the dark road as he curled them inside of your heat.
“Fuckin slut.” And his fingers reached deep, causing you to squirm. You whine, hips pushing back. “Mmmph ‘Kuna-“ Your moans muffled. Your hand found the thick of Toji’s thighs to steady yourself while he fucked your throat.
“Tch, he pumped you full too.”
He adds another finger, the trio working you open. When it came down to Sukuna and Toji, you genuinely had to brace yourself. Toji’s cock slips from your mouth for you to take a breath, “Tongue out.” His hand holds your chin, watching your mouth fall open.
“That’s a good girl.” He stroked his cock with the collected spit. Two long strokes of his deep pink cock, the tip thick and almost red. Two thick veins underlined it down to his base. He tapped it against the flat of your tongue. Your tongue licks the dribble of pre cum, kissing the gorgeous tip. You hear Sukuna let out a soft groan behind you, his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers fucked you faster.
“right there-“ you gasp, your eyes fluttering shut for a. “p-please m’so close ‘Kuna—“
“Gonna take care of you doll face.” Like they always did.
“Let us show you grown men fuck.”
“You’re really hardheaded. Thought I told you I didn’t want this pussy to be filled the next time I fucked you?”
Your head leaned back onto Toji’s shoulder, his big hand squeezing around your throat. “Sh-Shit— ahh- ah please!” Fast fingers rubbed at your clit. His cock fucking into the welcoming hole of your ass, while Sukuna’s big hands held your thighs spread wide open.
“Please what?” His hips slammed into yours, biggg cock stretching out the gummy walls of your pussy wide.
“Can’t take it-“
“Oh you can take it.” Toji huffs in your ear, the flushed head of his cock slipping in and out… in and out with ease. The sticky mess acting as lubricant between your legs. Your legs that shook violently in Sukuna’s grasp.
“M-Mhm..feels s’good don’t it?”
“Yes—! Yesohfuckohfuck”
They found a steady fast rhythm that had you hiccuping. The sounds of skin slapping and your incoherent moans echoed throughout the dark road. Anyone could drive by and see you being fucked by them.
Toji’s groans were loud in your ear. “Takin’ us s’good doll face…like a goood slut.”
“To—ji!” You whimper.
His grip on your neck loosening, “Yeah? You like that pretty girl? Like us fillin’ you up?” and he coos, bringing his fingers to your lips, “Spit.”
Saliva drips down your chin, the gathered spit going straight between your legs. You yelp, hips bucking as the feeling rushes over you. The wet splash between your legs splattered, only making them go faster.
Sukuna lets out a warning grunt. His face a light shade of pink, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Gonna fill you up the way I want to. Understand brat?”
“mm-‘hmm” You whine out, lips parting, your moans growing louder by the second. Between the cocks filling your holes, the fingers rubbing your clit, and the hand around your throat- fuck you could do this for days.
“Dont ever let me catch you like this again.” Sukuna’s voice was hot in your ear, Toji’s chuckle following after. Your insides were so warm. Letting out a breathless moan, you relax against Toji’s chest. Your holes full as they pulled out.
…and as a safety precaution, Sukuna drove you back to your apartment while Toji drove your car there.
𐙚 Hiromi Higuruma !
[public sex, pussy eating]
𐙚 law student!Higuruma abided by campus rules- any rules for that matter. He did things fairly by the law, he was a future lawyer after all.
“I—oh fuck-!” Sometimes, he didn’t. Very rarely.
His hands were hot on your thighs as he held them up, your back against the cool polished wood of the table. Front and center in the campus courtroom used for mock trial. Hiromi found his face buried comfortably between your legs.
His tongue lapped at your slick coated folds, moaning at the taste. Higuruma loved being between your legs after all. The way he ate you out with care, his nose rubbing against your clit. Your pussy dripping with saliva and your juices.
“You taste heavenly, have I ever told you that my sweet girl?” The way he ate you with care, the smell of your body oil filling his nose while he dove deeper into your heat. His tongue took a long stripe up to your clit, carrying your juices with it while he sucked on that pretty pearl.
“Hiro— ah-ah-“ You whimper, withering in his grasp. Your hand found his hair, pulling him in deeper. His tongue slips into your hole, your warmth welcoming him, and he groans. Your slick made a mess of his chin, his lips, and his nose.
“Mmfuck sweet girl. Tase’ so good.” His eyes close for a second, just taking in you. Fuck you drove him crazy. He lets up for just a bit, big eyes staring up at your skirt. You were still in your outfit, panties pulled to the side while he tongue fucked you.
“M’so close Hiro…f-fuck keep licking there.” The sloppy sound of Higuruma salvaging his meal echoed throughout the large empty room, sky dark outside. You were in there after the building closed for the day after all, even after the janitor did his rounds.
Two of his fingers slip there way into your hole making you squirm. He curls his fingers alongside his tongue, pressing up against that sweet spot inside of you. Your legs shook.
“Give it to me…You know what I want.” He spits a fat glob into your hole, fucking it right into you as as he panted, smug smile on his lips as he loosed his tie. You let yourself fall apart, his fingers reaching deeper into your pretty pussy.
“Gonna cum Hiro-“ You whimper. Higuruma’s tongue latches back onto your sensitive clit with such a loud nasty suck. “Ohh oh fuck- shit- shit- Hiromi!”
He still sucked on your pearl as you squirted. His fingers still fucking sloppily into your pussy, the wet squelch getting wetter by the second. You whine, pushing his head away, you pussy throbbing from the hard wave of your orgasm.
Table wet beneath you, legs spread wide open after Higuruma stands up straight to look down at your panting body. His tongue swiped across his lips. Painfully hard cock straining his pants. His thumb traced sweet circles on your inner thighs, cooing softly. “Such a good girl…mm I have to reward you now, don’t I?” His warm body leans over yours, wet kisses trailing up your body until they landed on your lips.
You whine, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled your legs to wrap around his waist, your hands wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him in closer. He rutted against your unclothed pussy, groaning softly into your mouth. “On your stomach.” He taps your thigh gently.
Now, Higuruma made sure you stayed out of trouble. You were his sweet girl after all. He took care of you in the best ways that he could while keeping up with his studies. He didn’t worry about any other guys, because Higuruma knew the way he made you break had you coming back to him each and every time.
“This is what you wanted, am I right?” His hips slam against your ass, the grip on your hips firm but gentle. Your hands held on to the front of the table, as you look back at him. His tired eyes were closed, head tilted back in pleasure, adam’s apple moving as he swallowed. Higuruma’s hair was tousled from the way you pulled on it, and his face a sweet shade of red.
“Just- just what I needed Hiro…” You moan, lips falling open. It was no secret that Higuruma’s dick was big, dark and pretty, long enough to kiss that spot inside of you and farther with every thrust. And your pussy loved it. Loved the feeling of being full of Hiromi Higuruma’s cock, the top law student of his class.
“Yeah?” His hand comes down on your ass with a smack ! making you moan louder.
“Yes—fuck yes!”
“You’re always running back to me Sweet Girl.” He deepens your arch, pushing the center of your back just a bit before he picked up pace. Smack ! Smack ! Smack ! the room echoed. Higuruma swallowed all of your broken moans. Your legs shaking, the grip on the table turning your palms white.
His hand rubs your back, to your shoulders, to the front of your neck. You yelp as he pulls your head back, your mouth open as pleasure filled tears slip from your pretty eyes. “Look at you…so beautiful.” He shudders. “Want me to cum inside?”
You’ve never said yes more quickly in your life. You could feel him deep inside, bulging your stomach. Higuruma lets out a groan, hand hot against your neck. “Rub your clit for me sweet girl, wanna cum at the same time.” He grunts, his deep groans like music to your ears.
Fingers rub at your slik coated clit, your pearl tingling with every thrust- with every touch. Your whole body buzzed, eyes rolling. “M-Mgonna cum— fuck fuck I f-feel it- Oh-!”A loud moan is ripped from you with one final thrust from the man, his cock buried to the hilt as he cums deep inside of you, fucking every last bit into that pretty pussy.
He pulls out once soft, not even the slightest drop of cum spilling. “Hold it in.” The hold on your neck softens, and you lay your head on the table, body tired. Sweet kisses litter your back as you panted.
Summary: Dating a women’s studies major has turned Sukuna into the frat house’s most feared feminist. Now the frat boys can’t make a sexist comment without getting a lecture, while you sit back and watch.
A/n: just fun lil thing i thought of :)
The frat house was unusually quiet, no music, no party, no sports discussions.
This was because Ryomen Sukuna was standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking genuinely disappointed.
“Did you just call her a bitch?”
Satoru Gojo, halfway through stealing someone’s energy drink from the fridge, blinked. “What?”
“You called that girl a bitch.”
“She literally stole my hoodie after our hookup,” he shrugged him off.
Sukuna pointed at him. “And? Speak like a man. Have some respect.”
“No, seriously.” Sukuna continued. “You don’t get to call women bitches because you’re annoyed.”
Satoru stared. “Who are you?”
“My girlfriend says that’s misogynistic.”
“Your girlfriend also made you stop saying ‘females.’”
“And she was right, it’s disrespectful. Some shit incels say.”
The entire frat house collectively recoiled.
Across the room, you sat on the couch, sipping an iced coffee and watching the chaos unfold. A smile on your face, because god were you enjoying this.
This was better than reality TV.
Satoru pointed at you. “YOU DID THIS.”
You raised your coffee in acknowledgment.“Damn right.”
———————————————————————————————
The frat party was loud enough to shake the walls. Music blasted through the speakers.
Drinking games to your left, a fist fight to your right; and you were just observing from the kitchen.
And in the middle of it all, Toji was sprawled across the couch with a beer in hand.
His girlfriend was standing nearby talking to some friends when Toji waved his empty can in the air. “Hey.”
She glanced over. “Yeah?”
“Grab me another beer.”
A few people looked over.
She frowned. “What?”
“You heard me.” Toji pointed toward the kitchen. “Get me another beer.”
Before she could argue, another voice cut through the room.
“No.”
Toji closed his eyes. “…God.”
Across the room, Sukuna was already walking over.
You perked up immediately, ready for your boyfriend to set Toji straight.
Sukuna stopped directly in front of Toji. “Hell no.”
Toji looked exhausted. “No what?”
“No disrespecting your girl in front of me.”
A few people turned their attention to the potential altercation.
Toji rubbed his forehead. “I asked her to get me a beer.”
“You ordered her.”
“It’s not that serious, right baby?” He said, trying to save his ass.
Sukuna crossed his arms. “If you want a beer, use your legs, or ask nicely.”
Toji stared, “You cannot be real.”
His girlfriend was already trying not to laugh.
Sukuna pointed toward the kitchen, “Go get your own drink.”
“Or what?”
The entire room collectively leaned forward.
Sukuna grinned. “Or I’ll disrespect your face by punching it.”
You giggled. Only Sukuna could point out misogyny while trying to solve the issue with violence.
A guy standing nearby immediately whispered, “That’s the most Sukuna version of feminism I’ve ever heard.”
Toji looked around the room. Nobody was helping him. Not even a little, most probably in fear of Sukuna.
Finally, Toji sighed. “Fine.”
Sukuna nodded. “Good choice.”
Toji turned toward his girlfriend. “Sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly she had more confidence than before. “Sorry for what?”
Toji was clearly embarrassed now, “Sorry for talking to you like that.”
“Thank you.”
Sukuna gave an approving nod. “There. Growth.”
“Shut it,” he said staring down Sukuna. “You know what? I’m getting my own beer.”
As Toji disappeared into the kitchen, the room broke into applause.
His girlfriend laughed and shook her head.
Then she turned to Sukuna. “Thanks.”
Sukuna shrugged. “Don’t thank me.”
He pointed across the room toward you. “Thank her.”
Everyone looked.
You were sitting comfortably on a stool in the kitchen; chin in hand, eating chips like you’d been watching a sporting event.
You gave a little wave.
“Kuna’s a women’s studies soldier ,” she said proudly. “I teach him everything I know.”
———————————————————————————————
The fraternity and sorority had gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas for a charity fundraiser. People were throwing out suggestions.
Raffles. Bake sales. Auctions.
Then Satoru snapped his fingers. “I got it.”
Immediately, you looked concerned, because he never had good ideas.
“We do a joint event with the sorority.” Satoru grinned. “The girls wear maid outfits and serve drinks.”
The room erupted into approval.
“That’s genius.”
“People would love that.”
“Easy money.”
Across the room, Sukuna slowly lowered the energy drink from his hand.
“Interesting.”
“NO,” Gojo yelled. “Let me have this one good idea,” he groans.
Sukuna stood. “Let me understand… the women wear maid costumes.”
“Yeah.”
“And serve drinks.”
“Yeah.”
“And what are the men doing?”
Toji shrugged. “We could do some strength challenge.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Lifting something heavy.” Several people nodded.
“Classic.” Sukuna stared. Then looked at you, looking for approval to go on a rant.
Sukuna turned back to the room. “The women get assigned a service role. The men get assigned a strength role.”
More silence.
“Based on gender.”
The room collectively sighed.
Sukuna pointed dramatically. “Why.”
Satoru finally spoke. “Because that’s what people want.”
Sukuna gasped.
You smiled proudly at your boyfriend, waiting for him to call out their blatant sexism.
“PEOPLE EXPECT IT?”
“Yeah?”
“So we’re just reinforcing traditional gender roles for profit now?”
The room erupted.
“IT’S A CHARITY EVENT.”
“YOU’RE MAKING IT SOUND EVIL.”
Sukuna ignored them. “Misogyny is evil.” He pointed toward the sorority members.
“Why are they the ones serving drinks?”
One of the sorority girls raised her hand. “Honestly, I don’t want to wear a maid costume.”
“THANK YOU.” Sukuna was fully activated.
You were delighted to see how this was playing out.
“Explain to me,” Sukuna continued, “why the men can’t wear maid costumes and serve drinks.”
The room went dead silent, and you almost spit out your drink.
Toji blinked.
Satoru blinked.
The sorority sisters were stunned. “What?”
“The men.” Sukuna spread his arms.
“No.”
“Why not?”
The room burst into laughter.
“If serving drinks is easy money, then congratulations.” He slapped the table.
“The fraternity is serving drinks.”
The sorority girls immediately started cheering.
“YES.”
“MAKE THEM DO IT.”
Toji looked horrified. “Absolutely not, I’m not wearing a maid outfit.”
Sukuna leaned forward. “Fragile, typical response from men. Toxic masculinity, machismo, societal expectations.” He says pointing a finger at different men around the room.
You had your face in your hands, trying to hide your laughter. You had to show support for your boyfriend, but couldn’t handle him naming every term he could think of.
Sukuna pointed around the room. “If the costumes aren’t degrading, wear them.”
Silence.
The sorority girls were having the time of their lives. One of them pulled out her phone. “I’m ordering maid costumes right now.”
The fraternity erupted in panic.
“STOP HER.”
“WE CAN STILL NEGOTIATE.”
——-
Two weeks later, the fundraiser ended up being the most successful event in frat history.
Mostly because nobody could resist paying money to watch a group of deeply embarrassed frat bros serve spiked lemonade in maid outfits.
Toji looked dead inside.
Satoru refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Meanwhile Sukuna carried a tray through the crowd completely unbothered.
His maid outfit fit surprisingly well, as he served you a drink.
Across the lawn, Satoru was being forced to say “Welcome home, master” for a twenty-dollar donation.
The sorority was making a fortune.
Sukuna took one look at the donation total and smiled. “Look how good we’ve done so far,” he said enthusiastically.
“I’m so proud of you,” you said before leaning in for a kiss.
“By the way, I think you should bring home this costume when you’re done here,” you said; snapping the thigh high sock on Sukuna’s thigh.
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❀.ೃ࿔* Getting caught stealing clothes out of Heian!Sukunas closet
˚ . ✧ ˚ . ✧ ˚ .
At this point you've taken multiple items and worn them (when your husband was away, of course). You just feel so much closer to him when you're surrounded in fabric that in an odd way almost feels like him. Every time it gets close to his return you make sure everything you've worn gets cleaned and returned like nothing had ever happened to them. Unfortunately for you, your husband's trip ended much sooner than you expected this time.
Although it only been a little over a week, you were missing your husband quite a bit. So much so, you decided to break into his closet earlier than you usually do. You run your hands over the luxurious fabrics before pulling out a red robe that reminded you of your lovers eyes. Wasting no time, you slip out of your own clothes and quickly pull his on. You inhale and you swear theres still a faint hint of Sukunas scent in the fabric.
You don't know it but at that very moment your husband's nearing the gate that protects the estate. "My lord, shall I have a servant alert your wife of your arrival?" Uruame asks looking towards the palace ahead. "No, I'd like to find her myself. I'm sure she'll be overjoyed at my early return." By now you've made your way to the main courtyard. Your husband's robe drags the ground as you walk over to the entrance.
You're unsure when he'll return but you know it'll be at least another week. Until then, you'll wait. For a moment you think you hear the sound of horse approaching but you consider it a figment of your imagination and head back inside. You decide to head to the library. Perhaps a book can help take your mind off how much you're missing your husband. While you're getting settled with a book, Sukunas entering the estate. "Where's my wife?" he calls out for anyone to answer him.
Just like you he's missed you terribly. Although he isn't as open about it as you are, those that travel with him notice how he's tenser and sleeps less when he's away from you. You finally managed to start your book when you hear someone coming toward the library. You immediately recognize his footsteps but you can't believe it. Without a second thought, you throw your book to the side and peak out the door. You let out a screech of happiness before jumping into your husbands arms.
Just as joyous as you, your husband hoists you up and holds you tight but he doesn't fail to notice the amount of fabric that he's got in his hands. "Wife?" He asks curiously. "Hm?" you reply against his neck. "Is this mine?" He holds up a piece of the robe which he can see is an extra sleeve that you clearly don't need. It's then that you realize that it is indeed his robe. "No, what makes you think that?" You attempt to lie. "Well this is certainly a solid clue, don't you agree?" he emphasizes his words by dangling the sleeve in his hand.
"Oh, that? It's just..." You pause attempting to come up with an answer. "Excess fabric! Yes. You know a lot goes to waste when making these robes so I decided to keep as much fabric as possible to prevent that." You nod and smile, knowing he doesn't believe a word you're saying. He doesn't respond as he starts heading to the bedroom you both share. Before you know it tge two of you are in the closet you were stood in just moments ago.
"Why is there a missing spot among my robes?" You turn to look at where he's referring to. "What happened to your robe?" You gasp while feigning shock. "You know very well what happened to it! You're wearing the damn thing!" He exclaims with a smile on his face. You look down at your clothes. "Would you look at that, I am wearing it!" He shakes his head before moving to the bed. Gently he sets you down. "What am I going to do with you, woman?"
He sits at the edge of the bed and you move to wrap your arms around his shoulders the best you can. "Appreciate how much I love you and hate to be away from you?" He brings a hand up to rest over youre. "I think I can manage that." He turns his head to the side to give you a peck on the lips before moving to look back at you. "So care to tell me how you've been sneaking this behind my back for so long?" You give him a mischievous smile before nodding and he can only match your expression.
A/n: Did this in pretty much one go. Kinda proud/Kinda worried you can tell😭
Summary: Dating a women’s studies major has turned Sukuna into the frat house’s most feared feminist. Now the frat boys can’t make a sexist comment without getting a lecture, while you sit back and watch.
A/n: just fun lil thing i thought of :)
The frat house was unusually quiet, no music, no party, no sports discussions.
This was because Ryomen Sukuna was standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking genuinely disappointed.
“Did you just call her a bitch?”
Satoru Gojo, halfway through stealing someone’s energy drink from the fridge, blinked. “What?”
“You called that girl a bitch.”
“She literally stole my hoodie after our hookup,” he shrugged him off.
Sukuna pointed at him. “And? Speak like a man. Have some respect.”
“No, seriously.” Sukuna continued. “You don’t get to call women bitches because you’re annoyed.”
Satoru stared. “Who are you?”
“My girlfriend says that’s misogynistic.”
“Your girlfriend also made you stop saying ‘females.’”
“And she was right, it’s disrespectful. Some shit incels say.”
The entire frat house collectively recoiled.
Across the room, you sat on the couch, sipping an iced coffee and watching the chaos unfold. A smile on your face, because god were you enjoying this.
This was better than reality TV.
Satoru pointed at you. “YOU DID THIS.”
You raised your coffee in acknowledgment.“Damn right.”
———————————————————————————————
The frat party was loud enough to shake the walls. Music blasted through the speakers.
Drinking games to your left, a fist fight to your right; and you were just observing from the kitchen.
And in the middle of it all, Toji was sprawled across the couch with a beer in hand.
His girlfriend was standing nearby talking to some friends when Toji waved his empty can in the air. “Hey.”
She glanced over. “Yeah?”
“Grab me another beer.”
A few people looked over.
She frowned. “What?”
“You heard me.” Toji pointed toward the kitchen. “Get me another beer.”
Before she could argue, another voice cut through the room.
“No.”
Toji closed his eyes. “…God.”
Across the room, Sukuna was already walking over.
You perked up immediately, ready for your boyfriend to set Toji straight.
Sukuna stopped directly in front of Toji. “Hell no.”
Toji looked exhausted. “No what?”
“No disrespecting your girl in front of me.”
A few people turned their attention to the potential altercation.
Toji rubbed his forehead. “I asked her to get me a beer.”
“You ordered her.”
“It’s not that serious, right baby?” He said, trying to save his ass.
Sukuna crossed his arms. “If you want a beer, use your legs, or ask nicely.”
Toji stared, “You cannot be real.”
His girlfriend was already trying not to laugh.
Sukuna pointed toward the kitchen, “Go get your own drink.”
“Or what?”
The entire room collectively leaned forward.
Sukuna grinned. “Or I’ll disrespect your face by punching it.”
You giggled. Only Sukuna could point out misogyny while trying to solve the issue with violence.
A guy standing nearby immediately whispered, “That’s the most Sukuna version of feminism I’ve ever heard.”
Toji looked around the room. Nobody was helping him. Not even a little, most probably in fear of Sukuna.
Finally, Toji sighed. “Fine.”
Sukuna nodded. “Good choice.”
Toji turned toward his girlfriend. “Sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly she had more confidence than before. “Sorry for what?”
Toji was clearly embarrassed now, “Sorry for talking to you like that.”
“Thank you.”
Sukuna gave an approving nod. “There. Growth.”
“Shut it,” he said staring down Sukuna. “You know what? I’m getting my own beer.”
As Toji disappeared into the kitchen, the room broke into applause.
His girlfriend laughed and shook her head.
Then she turned to Sukuna. “Thanks.”
Sukuna shrugged. “Don’t thank me.”
He pointed across the room toward you. “Thank her.”
Everyone looked.
You were sitting comfortably on a stool in the kitchen; chin in hand, eating chips like you’d been watching a sporting event.
You gave a little wave.
“Kuna’s a women’s studies soldier ,” she said proudly. “I teach him everything I know.”
———————————————————————————————
The fraternity and sorority had gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas for a charity fundraiser. People were throwing out suggestions.
Raffles. Bake sales. Auctions.
Then Satoru snapped his fingers. “I got it.”
Immediately, you looked concerned, because he never had good ideas.
“We do a joint event with the sorority.” Satoru grinned. “The girls wear maid outfits and serve drinks.”
The room erupted into approval.
“That’s genius.”
“People would love that.”
“Easy money.”
Across the room, Sukuna slowly lowered the energy drink from his hand.
“Interesting.”
“NO,” Gojo yelled. “Let me have this one good idea,” he groans.
Sukuna stood. “Let me understand… the women wear maid costumes.”
“Yeah.”
“And serve drinks.”
“Yeah.”
“And what are the men doing?”
Toji shrugged. “We could do some strength challenge.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Lifting something heavy.” Several people nodded.
“Classic.” Sukuna stared. Then looked at you, looking for approval to go on a rant.
Sukuna turned back to the room. “The women get assigned a service role. The men get assigned a strength role.”
More silence.
“Based on gender.”
The room collectively sighed.
Sukuna pointed dramatically. “Why.”
Satoru finally spoke. “Because that’s what people want.”
Sukuna gasped.
You smiled proudly at your boyfriend, waiting for him to call out their blatant sexism.
“PEOPLE EXPECT IT?”
“Yeah?”
“So we’re just reinforcing traditional gender roles for profit now?”
The room erupted.
“IT’S A CHARITY EVENT.”
“YOU’RE MAKING IT SOUND EVIL.”
Sukuna ignored them. “Misogyny is evil.” He pointed toward the sorority members.
“Why are they the ones serving drinks?”
One of the sorority girls raised her hand. “Honestly, I don’t want to wear a maid costume.”
“THANK YOU.” Sukuna was fully activated.
You were delighted to see how this was playing out.
“Explain to me,” Sukuna continued, “why the men can’t wear maid costumes and serve drinks.”
The room went dead silent, and you almost spit out your drink.
Toji blinked.
Satoru blinked.
The sorority sisters were stunned. “What?”
“The men.” Sukuna spread his arms.
“No.”
“Why not?”
The room burst into laughter.
“If serving drinks is easy money, then congratulations.” He slapped the table.
“The fraternity is serving drinks.”
The sorority girls immediately started cheering.
“YES.”
“MAKE THEM DO IT.”
Toji looked horrified. “Absolutely not, I’m not wearing a maid outfit.”
Sukuna leaned forward. “Fragile, typical response from men. Toxic masculinity, machismo, societal expectations.” He says pointing a finger at different men around the room.
You had your face in your hands, trying to hide your laughter. You had to show support for your boyfriend, but couldn’t handle him naming every term he could think of.
Sukuna pointed around the room. “If the costumes aren’t degrading, wear them.”
Silence.
The sorority girls were having the time of their lives. One of them pulled out her phone. “I’m ordering maid costumes right now.”
The fraternity erupted in panic.
“STOP HER.”
“WE CAN STILL NEGOTIATE.”
——-
Two weeks later, the fundraiser ended up being the most successful event in frat history.
Mostly because nobody could resist paying money to watch a group of deeply embarrassed frat bros serve spiked lemonade in maid outfits.
Toji looked dead inside.
Satoru refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Meanwhile Sukuna carried a tray through the crowd completely unbothered.
His maid outfit fit surprisingly well, as he served you a drink.
Across the lawn, Satoru was being forced to say “Welcome home, master” for a twenty-dollar donation.
The sorority was making a fortune.
Sukuna took one look at the donation total and smiled. “Look how good we’ve done so far,” he said enthusiastically.
“I’m so proud of you,” you said before leaning in for a kiss.
“By the way, I think you should bring home this costume when you’re done here,” you said; snapping the thigh high sock on Sukuna’s thigh.
is what your experiencedbf!sukuna asked after you tried to catch.. his print?
you have been plotting and waiting for the perfect opportunity to do this popular trend on your boyfriend for almost a month. he’s manspreading(of course) on your shared couch his back basically making a dent in it. your resting your back on the armrest your feet on his thighs as he massages your feet. you inconspicuously stare at his couch trying to see if he’s a A, B, C or.. eh you doubt it no way.
you narrow your eyes and tilt your head pretending to be “look” at your phone. “the fuck you looking at?” his rough voice snapping you out of your trance.
you quickly look up into his narrowed crimson eyes. “huh?” he knits his eyebrows together, pressing his thumb into the bottom of your foot trying to get a answer out of you.
you whimper and flinch “ow! and im not looking at anything” he sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes continuing to rub your feet “I ain’t even press that hard brat” you hum. “okay you can go back to what you were doing” “you first” he looks at your phone that has been playing the same video over 20 times, shit, that’s probably what gave it away.
you look down at your phone and play a random netflix series and you look up to see he’s looking back at his phone. you adjust your head so it looks like you’re eyes are on your phone but whole time you staring at his—
“do you wanna fucking bite or sum?” he catches you, again. at this point you give up and continue tilting your head and squinting. “C?..” he scowls, loudly and unashamedly.
“no way your a D..” he grabs your chin and pulls you close to his face. “is that all I am to you, a dick to stare at when your bored, mm?” he questions you quietly.
“no, no of course not!” “well I’d hope so, fucking virgin” your expression drops as he smirks. “what do you mean by C and D?” he looks actually curious now not trying to just tease you, “well, there is this thing called catching print—“ he pinches his nose bridge letting go of your jaw, sukuna shakes his head and sighs. “seriously? how does it work”
you gasp and cover your face, the butterflies scattering around in your stomach from embarrassment. “you don’t know what it is?” “i mean no but im not fucking stupid, and you wanna see how big my dick is, just ask dont be a creep” your eyes widen your eyebrows raising simultaneously.
“w-what no?!” you immediately get flustered due to the fact you’ve never even seen one, well in person that is. “why not?” you just shake your head and try to get up but he quickly grabs your ankle. “sit.” he says low but loud enough for you to ear, so of course you sit down.
“good, now I said why, answer.” he runs his rough hands up and down your legs, making you shiver. “well, I guess you know, you know sukuna im a virgin I’m nervous!” you slap his arm(he doesn’t even flinch, he’s way too big for his own good). “i can be gentle you know, im not almost a ‘monster’” sukuna says sarcastically with a grin, your friends called him that while you were on the phone getting ready and he was listening.
“stop!” you look away but he slides his hand up further. “fine” he shrugs “whenever your ready, I’ll be too” you lookn back at him to see his eyes are boring into yours already. you nod and he continues to rub your feet and you both lie into your previous positions.
ps. i was gonna tag the creator of the 18+ divider but i genuinely forgot so if you know pls tag them💔
Summary: When exhaustion leads to a dumb fight between you and your boyfriend, Spencer, he shows up for you in ways you did not expect. Feel free to listen to I’m With You by Avril Lavigne while reading this.
Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader
Tags: Fluff, light angst, established relationship
Word count: 2.5k
Note: Just something short and sweet for anyone still interested in my writing lol! Good to be back! :3
☆
You loved your boyfriend, Spencer. You loved him more than words could describe. You’ve loved him for the past two years of your relationship. Hell, you probably loved him from the moment your close friend, Angela, set you two up. You loved him in the morning when he was all messy hair and sleepy eyes. You loved him when he was calling you during his break just to hear your voice. You loved him when you were cuddling on the couch together after dinner, watching whatever series you were binging together at the time. You just loved him so much.
You loved him even when you two were fighting.
It didn’t happen often and it was usually resolved just as quickly as it started. Honestly, they were more like simple disagreements than fights. The same could not be said for some of your previous relationships, Spencer knew vaguely that you didn’t consider your time with your exes healthy, but he never wanted to pry into your past too much. You two were creatures of logic, so it was easy to remedy the situation, all you needed was a proper conversation and the entire ordeal was over. After all, whenever people came to either of you for relationship advice, you always told them communication was key.
But sometimes, things aren’t so simple. And sometimes both of you come home from your respective jobs stressed from overtime and with a million things on your minds. He had some strict deadlines mixed with technical issues and last minute urgent schedule revisions, with a healthy dose of corrupted footage to top it all off. At the same time, you happened to be dealing with a new manager breathing down your neck, an issue with the filing system at work that meant you needed to do physical filing all week, half your team calling in sick, and worst of all, the coffee machine broke yesterday.
By the time you got home, you were hangry and so tired you felt like you could collapse at any moment.
You rummaged through your bag for your apartment keys when you almost rammed directly into Spencer in front of the door.
“Oh, hey babe”, you gave him a tired smile he returned before pecking you on the lips.
“Hi honey”, he replied sweetly while unlocking the door, “looks like we’re both home late today.”
You sighed as you walked inside, he was holding the door open like the gentleman he was.
“Yeah”, you kicked your shoes off and dropped your work bag by the door like it weighed a tonne, “what a long day.”
“Tell me about it”, he mirrored your sigh and he also took his shoes off, almost losing his balance and stumbling. He was clearly just as exhausted as you. “What do you want to do about dinner? I’m thinking of ordering either Chinese or Thai, but you get the final call.”
“Spence”, you started, trying not to sound frustrated, “I thought we agreed we would only order in once a week to save money. We already got takeaway yesterday.”
“I know, Y/N”, he seemed to be trying to show the same restraint as you, “but we’re both late today and clearly tired, so I thought it was a better idea than cooking something ourselves.”
“Yes, but”, you entered the kitchen as he trailed behind you, “it’ll be faster if we just cook something, we already have a bunch of ingredients here, they’ll go to waste if we don’t use them soon.”
“I understand that”, he sounded like he was losing his patience, you could feel yourself losing yours too. “But I really don’t have the energy to cook something. Do you?”
You were starting to feel annoyed, you tried to push down the feeling, knowing it was unreasonable, you were just tired.
“No”, you replied, opening up the fridge and crossing your arms as you inspected the groceries inside, “but if you don’t want to help, I’ll do it.”
“Don’t do that, babe”, he groaned, leaning against the kitchen counter and hanging his head down.
“Do what?” You furrowed your brow, bending down to see how many eggs you had left.
“Make me the bad guy”, he responded, lifting his head, “making it out as if I don’t want to help you when you know I would normally, I’m just so tired.”
“Well, so am I”, you tried to keep your voice level.
“Then let’s just order in!”
You sighed even heavier than before.
You two were going in circles. Ironically, logical as you both were, you were also incredibly stubborn. Part of you wanted to concede, give up and let him order some takeaway food. But the other part of you, the fiery argumentative part of you wanted to fight back, prove you were right. It was the side of you that would normally lose out, but the exhaustion was causing a severe lack of judgement and your emotions were too heightened.
“Whatever”, you muttered, shutting the fridge loudly without looking back at him. “I’m not even hungry”, you lied as you left the kitchen, heading to the bathroom to take a much needed hot shower.
You regretted your childish actions almost as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, the dark circles under your eyes and slight downturn of your lips. You looked a mess, felt it too. You were so glad it was Friday and you could sleep in tomorrow. But your gut twisted thinking about that whole interaction with Spencer, you probably could have handled it better, but he could have too. You both had agreed to limit your spending on takeaway food, he was even the one to suggest it.
You shook your head, trying to empty it from the thoughts that were getting too loud, and started undressing to take your shower.
☆
When you emerged from the bathroom later, the apartment was noticeably silent.
You braced yourself, “Spence?” You called out to him. Nothing.
You checked around all the rooms, he was nowhere to be found.
Great, you thought to yourself, you’ve really gone and done it now, he’s probably gone off to stay somewhere else for the night because you threw a tantrum about bloody dinner of all things.
You walked into the kitchen again, placing your hands on the counter where he had just been before you stormed out. It was cold now.
You’d never had an actual argument like that with Spencer, it was so dumb but the feelings felt legitimate. You were doing so well, not letting your temper or bad habits from previous relationships interfere with you and him. Your last couple of exes would have turned the conversation into a screaming match, that was part of why you escaped to the bathroom so quickly, not wanting either of you to start yelling. You knew in your heart that Spencer would never raise his voice at you like they did, but you also thought that about your exes before they went and did exactly that. You’ve never told Spencer about what your past relationships were like, partly because he didn’t pry, partly because you were ashamed.
You cut off the buzz from the old light fixtures by flicking the switch off. You had lost your appetite for real now. Still too proud to contact him, you crawled into bed. The exhaustion made your bones ache and they felt like they were creaking as you relaxed into your soft bedding. You were too tired to think hard about sleeping so early with an empty stomach and without your beloved boyfriend beside you. You were so drained, you didn’t even have time to plan how you were going to try to fix things tomorrow before you dozed off.
☆
You weren’t sure how long you had slept for, but there was bright light flooding into the room between the blinds and you felt reasonably refreshed as you sat up, stretching. You were still a little drowsy, but the absolute exhaustion from last night, hell, from the entire last week, was all gone. You glanced at the bedside table, you had probably slept about fourteen hours.
“Shit”, you mumbled to yourself as you rubbed your eyes, the memories of your little argument with Spencer flooding back. You scrambled to grab your phone from where it was charging on the floor, squinting at the screen to see if there were any notifications from Spencer.
No missed calls. No new text messages besides a few from your friends. Your heart ached in your chest, you could feel the guilt settling on your mind like a weight. You had to reach out to him, say something, make sure he was safe, wherever he was.
You sat back in your empty bed, leaning against the headboard. You glanced down at Spencer’s side of the bed. At some point in the night, you had cocooned yourself in the blankets, so it was bare. You reached out, feeling like you might cry out of frustration at yourself and your big mouth, but before you put your hand down, you heard the sound of metal being banged around, something clattering to the floor and voice faintly swearing. You knew that voice better than any other sound in the world.
You jumped up, practically ripping the bedroom door open as you rushed to the kitchen. You appeared in the doorway, greeted by the sight of Spencer by the counter, hair messy and wearing those green plaid pyjama pants you always thought he looked so cute in.
Hearing you approach he turned to you quickly, holding a dirty mixing bowl with the remnants of batter inside.
“Hi”, he said awkwardly, grimacing, “did I wake you? I dropped the bowl when I was trying to put it in the sink.”
You blinked at him, not sure what to say. He wasn’t mad at you?
“Um, no”, you responded, “I was already awake.”
“That’s good”, he hummed, continuing what he was doing, rinsing out the bowl, “you were sleeping like the dead, so I was afraid to wake you before you were fully rested.”
You stared at him before turning your gaze away.
“Where did you go last night?” Your voice came out so much smaller than you expected, you weren’t sure he even heard you until he stopped his motions.
He dried his hands, turning to you, resting his backside against the counter.
“I know you didn’t want me to order in but”, he crossed his arms, “I went down the street to get some takeaway.”
You leaned against the side of the doorway, attempting to appear nonchalant, like the weird foreign tension between you two wasn’t bothering you.
“I’m sorry, honey”, he said softly, you lifted your eyes from the spot on the floor you had been inspecting. “You’re right, we did agree to cook at home more, and I should have tried to get home earlier so we could do that. I was so tired from work, I just didn’t have it in me to stay awake and cook.”
You just quietly nodded, searching for your own words, your own apology.
“I went and got takeout, but by the time I came back you were asleep”, he continued, shuffling his foot as if to occupy himself, “I’m sorry for eating without you, I left your portion in the fridge. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me sleeping next to you, so I slept on the couch.”
Your heart was aching again, you felt so bad making him feel unwelcome in his own bedroom.
“But that meant I could get up early without waking you and make your favourite breakfast”, he looked at you sheepishly, a shy grin on his face.
You stepped into the kitchen immediately, and as you scanned the kitchen table the scent hit you. The sweet, sweet aroma of fresh pancakes. They were the most gorgeous stack you’d ever seen, drizzled with syrup and a little bit of butter resting on top, a bowl full of berries sat next to it.
All the emotion hit you at once, like a wave you didn’t properly brace for. The stupid, meaningless argument last night, going to sleep without him, waking up without him, worrying you had ruined everything, finding him labouring over pancakes for you after sleeping on the couch. You felt tears prickle in your eyes and you felt your body tremble with a sob you couldn’t hide.
“Baby?” Spencer rushed over to you, gently grabbing your sides, “hey, hey, what’s wrong?”
“I’m so”, you hiccuped as another sob hit you, “sorry, Spence.”
“What? You don’t need to be sorry”, he chuckled, pulling you into a hug, letting you wet the crook of his neck with your tears.
“I argued with you over nothing”, you cried, “and you never yelled at me and you even bought food for me and you slept on the couch and you made me breakfast.”
As your body was racked with guilty sobs, he held you tightly, hand coming up to stroke your back comfortingly. He was quietly shushing you in that gentle, sweet tone he always did whenever you got upset.
“It’s okay, honey,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for fighting with you when you were so exhausted.”
“Any way you look at it”, another hiccup, “I was the problem. Why didn’t you tell me off?”
He pulled away slightly at that so he could see your face. You looked at him through wet lashes, embarrassed to be crying over something like this.
“I would never”, his stare was unwavering, you hardly ever see him so serious, “never, ever, shout at you. Okay? You are not the problem. I’ll never raise my voice at you, I’ll never ‘tell you off’, because I love you. You’re my partner, not my pet.”
You sniffled, you suspected this was how he felt but it was still somewhat shocking to hear him lay it out so plainly in front of you.
“I love you too”, you choked out, voice taut from crying. “I’m not used to fights resolving without screaming.”
You had intended for your comment to lighten the mood, but instead, Spencer pulled you in tight, one hand stroking your hair.
“I hate that”, he murmured, his breath tickling your ear and sending little shivers down your spine, “you don’t deserve that. You’re safe with me.”
You felt the last of your tears stray down your face as you squeezed him back. You weren’t sure if it was because of his tone of voice, or the way you were slightly swaying together in a quiet kitchen on a sunny Saturday morning, but you believed him. His arms felt like home.
“Thank you, honey”, you whispered back, your eyes drifting to the kitchen table. “Shit”, you groaned, “those pancakes look amazing.”
He chuckled as he pulled away, wiping the few wet patches left on your face dry before guiding you to the table.
“Come on”, he breathed, ever gentle, ever sweet, his hand so warm in your own, “eat up before they get cold. If you want more, I’ll make as many as you want”
☆
Note: Sorry for disappearing for so long! Life has been super hectic, so I’ve been too busy to write, but I would love to get back to it. I’ll try to work through the absolutely backlog of requests in my inbox first! Please be patient with me and let me know what you think about my latest work!! Thank youuu <3
♡ Masterlist | Taglist: (send me an ask to join!) @adresstayaa @cloverrwritess @spennininomenon @thewayilikemycookie
frat!sukuna, who first insisted that your relationship was strictly sex, nothing more—with some flimsy excuse about how he doesn’t have the time for a relationship, doesn’t have the time to commit to something that serious, and about how a relationship would only drag him down.
so he does what any good friend situationship?would do—he shows up to your place, fucks you until you can’t remember your own name, and leaves before something in his chest convinces him to stay.
frat!sukuna, who has to have you facing him to cum, something about just looking at your face contort in pleasure while you take him in, the way tears rim your eyes while he thrusts into you languidly—he simply can’t bring himself to cum if he isn’t look at you and your pretty face drunk on his cock.
frat!sukuna, who tries to walk out of your apartment the second he’s done with you, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. so he lingers, hovers around your sleeping form until you finally drag him back under your sheets, calling him ridiculous while he presses soft kisses to the back of your neck.
frat!sukuna, who has your drink order memorised to perfection, always leaving your sugary concoction of a drink on your desk before each class begins with a scrawled on note that says ‘don’t get any ideas.’
frat!sukuna, who never denies anything when his frat brothers start calling you his girlfriend—it’s too much work to correct them, he says, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks tinge the same shade as his hair every single time one of them pats him on the back and calls you his girl.
frat!sukuna, who always has to have you close to him, with his arm slug around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist when he’s near you.
“it’s to make sure you don’t run away.”
“now, why would i do that?”
frat!sukuna, who almost decks toji in the face when he sees him flirting with you, his split lip curled into a girl while you laughed at his stupid jokes and for one second, sukuna’s afraid he’s going to lose this, that he’s going to lose you.
frat!sukuna, who starts tiptoeing around the idea of a relationship, insisting he takes you on dates—taking you out to fancy restaurants and late night bike rides when he knows exam stress starts to take over your brain. he’s spent enough time around you to know everything there is to know, but what sukuna doesn’t know is how to handle a relationship.
frat!sukuna, who’s been treating you like his girlfriend since the start, never skipping aftercare, always being there at your every beck and call—and avoiding every girl that had eyes for him like the plague since he met you.
“good god, did she neuter you, kuna?” toji slurred between drinks while sukuna tried to dodge the sorority girls coming his way.
“shut up.”
frat!sukuna, who’s softer during sex now, worshipping your body endlessly, covering you in soft kisses and bites marks before he eats you out like a man starved.
frat!sukuna, who’s basically a guard dog around you, glaring at everyone who so much as shows even mild interest in you, clinging to you like a needy puppy every second of the day that he possibly can.
frat!sukuna, who has words stuck in his throat every single time he tries to ask you out, always stuttering out nonsense he didn’t mean to say because, what if you turn him down? and what if there’s someone better?
frat!sukuna, who gets you a massive bouquet of your favourite flowers, showing up to your apartment in the dead of night, flowers scrunched in his hand, his chest heaving when he finally asks you out.
frat!sukuna, who tries to hide his flustered face when you finally say yes, spinning you around in his arms while he kisses the top of your head—because after all the mental gymnastics he’s done to have you in his arms, he finally gets to call you his girl.
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You knew Sukuna worked too much. You’d known that before you ever started whatever this was with him. You knew that every extra shift, every call‑in, every overtime hour usually meant the difference between him scraping by and actually having enough money left at the end of the week to breathe. You knew that. It didn’t mean you had to like it.
The afternoon had started suspiciously well, which should’ve been your first warning. You and Sukuna had been sitting on a bench outside a convenience store, sharing a carton of fries you’d bought after wandering aimlessly around the city for nearly two hours. Not a date… definitely not a date. Just the two of you hanging out. Alone. On a Saturday. After he’d specifically cleared his afternoon. Totally not a date.
“You keep stealing the good fries,” he complained.
You looked up from the carton. “The good fries?”
“The crispy ones.”
“Those are all the fries.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
You grabbed another one, and Sukuna immediately narrowed his eyes. “That was a crispy one.”
You giggled. “Too slow.”
“I literally bought them.”
“And?”
His jaw twitched, and for a second he almost smiled back at you. Almost–until his phone rang. The smile vanished instantly. You watched him pull it out, and his expression shifted. Not annoyed or irritated, just tired, which made your stomach sink because you knew that look.
He stared at the screen for a moment before answering. “Yeah.”
Silence followed. You kicked your feet against the pavement, picking at the corner of the fry carton while he listened, sighed, and ran a hand through his pink hair.
“How long?” he asked.
Your stomach dropped.
NOoOooOoOOoOoOooO. Not today. Not now. You already knew. You knew before he even said it. Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine.”
You looked away before he could see your face. The call ended. A few seconds passed, then he said, “I gotta go.”
There it was.
You nodded. “Oh.”
His brows furrowed. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged, trying to sound casual. Normal. Totally unbothered.
“Okay.”
Sukuna stared at you. You stared at the road. He knew. You knew he knew, but neither of you were going to say it.
“They need someone to cover,” he said.
“Okay.”
“You mad?”
“No.”
A lie. A terrible lie. Possibly the worst lie ever spoken.
Sukuna scoffed. “You’re literally pouting.”
“M’not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
You shoved another fry into your mouth aggressively. Sukuna stared, then snorted–actually snorted, the jerk.
“I’m not pouting.”
“You look like someone kicked your dog.”
“I don’t even have a dog.”
“You look like someone would kick your dog.”
You glared at him. He looked annoyingly amused, until his expression softened slightly.
“They’re short‑staffed.”
“Okay.”
“I need the hours.”
“I know.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yuji needs new shoes.”
Your gaze flickered up. Sukuna looked away. “Kid grew out of the last pair in like three damn months.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. “And Choso’s helping with rent already. I’m not dumping more on him.”
Your chest tightened, because there it was–the real reason. Not cigarettes, not stupid spending, not because he wanted to leave. Because there was a five‑year‑old waiting for him at home who somehow managed to outgrow everything the second it was bought. Because Choso was already carrying enough at sixteen. Because Sukuna had been playing the role of provider for so long that saying no almost wasn’t an option anymore.
“I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to,” he said quietly.
You hated that, because you knew it was true. He wasn’t ditching you because he wanted to. He needed the money. You knew that, but the stupid hurt feeling wouldn’t go away. Because for one afternoon–one stupid afternoon–you wanted him to pick you. Just once.
You immediately hated yourself for thinking it, because that wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. Bills weren’t fair. Rent wasn’t fair. And Sukuna had never gotten the luxury of putting feelings before survival.
Still… it hurt.
“Whatever,” you muttered. There it was–the dangerous whatever.
Sukuna sighed. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You get this tone.”
“What tone?”
“That one.”
You stood up. “There is no tone.”
“There is.”
“There isn’t.”
“There is.”
You grabbed your bag. “Go to work, Sukuna.”
His jaw clenched. You knew that look too–the one where he wanted to argue but couldn’t, because he really did have to leave. So instead he stood, towering over you.
“Walk home safe.”
“Yeah.”
“You got your keys?”
“Yeah.”
“Phone charged?”
“Yes, dad.”
That earned you a glare.
Good. Maybe he should suffer too.
“You being annoying on purpose?”
“Maybe.”
His eyes narrowed, then he reached over and flicked your forehead. Hard.
“Ow!”
“Brat.”
Then he started walking backwards toward the street. “Text me when you’re home.”
You rolled your eyes.
He pointed. “Seriously.”
“Okay.”
“Promise.”
You huffed. “Promise.”
Only then did he finally leave, and somehow watching him disappear around the corner felt way worse than you’d expected.
The walk home sucked, mostly because it gave you time to think, which was terrible. Thinking was terrible. You replayed the afternoon over and over–the way he’d looked disappointed too, the way he’d tried explaining, the way he’d said he wouldn’t leave if he didn’t have to–and somehow that only made you more upset, because if he’d been a jerk about it, you could’ve stayed mad. Instead, he’d been reasonable, which was annoying.
Your phone buzzed.
Ryo🤰: Made it.
You ignored it.
Another buzz.
Ryo🤰: You home yet?
Ignored.
Five minutes later:
Ryo🤰: Answer your phone idiot.
Ignored.
Then–
Ryo🤰: Don’t make me come check.
You immediately typed back:
You: You’re literally at work.
His reply came instantly.
Ryo🤰: So you’re alive.
You stared at the screen for a moment, then locked your phone.
Nope. Not doing this. You were too sad and too grumpy to talk.
Three hours later, you were curled up in bed, still grumpy, still refusing to text him properly, and still pretending you weren’t checking your phone every ten minutes. The quiet of your room made everything worse, and when the sudden knock at the door echoed through the apartment–three sharp raps–you froze. It was nearly midnight, and before you could even process who would be knocking at this hour, your phone rang. Sukuna’s name lit up the screen, making your stomach flip as you answered with a flat, “What?”
“Open the door,” he said.
You sat upright, confused. “...What?”
“Door.”
“Sukuna.”
“Door.”
“You were literally at work.”
“I still am.”
“What?”
“Open the damn door.”
Still confused, you dragged yourself out of bed and opened the door, only to find him standing there in his work uniform with tired eyes, messy hair, and a paper bag in his hand. You blinked at him. “What are you doing here?”
“You wouldn’t stop sulking,” he said.
“I wasn’t sulking.”
“You ignored me for three hours.”
“That’s not–”
“Sulking.”
You glared at him, but the irritation didn’t hold. He looked genuinely exhausted–dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped like he’d worked a twelve‑hour shift–and yet he’d still come all the way here. Your anger weakened immediately, traitorous thing that it was.
He shoved the paper bag into your arms, and when you looked inside, you found your favourite takeaway–the exact thing you’d mentioned wanting earlier but never ended up getting. Your chest tightened just a little.
“Sukuna…”
He looked away, scratching the back of his neck, suddenly uncomfortable. “I know today sucked,” he muttered.
You stared at him.
“And I know you were upset.” You opened your mouth to deny it, then closed it again, because pretending now felt pointless.
Sukuna sighed. “I just…” He struggled with the words, like saying them physically hurt. “I need the money.”
Your heart squeezed because he sounded almost guilty, like he'd done something wrong when he hadn't. Not really. “I know,” you said softly.
His shoulders loosened slightly, just a fraction.
“I know,” you repeated.
Silence settled between you, and before you could think better of it, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Sukuna froze completely, like you’d hit him with a truck, but after a moment his arms came around you–slow, heavy, warm. You felt him exhale, the kind of breath someone lets out only after holding it in all day.
“I’m still annoyed,” you muttered.
“Mhm.”
“You left me.”
“Mhm.”
“You suck.”
“Mhm.”
He rested his chin on your head. “Still bought you food.”
“…Yeah.”
“Still came here.”
“…Yeah.”
“Still got another shift tomorrow.”
You groaned, and he actually laughed–a low, tired sound against your hair. And despite everything, the stupid hurt feeling finally faded. Because maybe Sukuna couldn’t always choose you first; life didn’t give him that luxury. But even after a miserable shift and an exhausting day, he still ended up on your doorstep at midnight. And maybe that counted for something too.
a/n: Inspireddd by the faaact exams are preventing me from talking to my girlfrieeends :(
lowkey me every time they tell me they gottaaa goo (also, I wrote this while listening to snoozeeee just in case anybooody else wanted to do that too😓)
brat! reader demanding boyfriend 𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 to hold her hand while he carries all the bags
your hands feel weird. empty, you note suddenly.
then you look at your boyfriend walking just 2 steps ahead of you. both of his hands full of shopping bags and grocery packets.
it must be heavy. it is heavy. that's why sukuna is carrying them and not you. you give a sigh of appreciation as your eyes roam over his frame.
tall , dressed in dark shades, muscles pulled taut. quite the head turner. and more than capable of carrying a few bags, you mentally note.
your friends often complained about their partners expecting to split the baggage. half n half and shit that felt so absurd to you that you had obnoxiously bragged about your husband demanding that you 'do not lift a single finger'.
the girls had the audacity to look skeptical.
you pull up the camera app on your phone and click record.
"baby?" you call out, pretending to scroll. the camera records your man as he half turns his head.
"why aren't you holding my hand?" you demand like a spoiled brat. you catch the faint upward tug of his lips as he turns his head to face forward again.
then he releases his pinky from under his grip on the bags and slightly points it. you let out a happy sound and grab onto it. making a point of zooming in your camera on the view.
then you reverse the camera and film your face.
sukuna often tells you to wipe that smug look off your face. but how can you when you bagged such a hot deal?
so you give your brattiest grin and lean your head against his bicep. the camera doesn't capture his face, he is too tall for that.
sukuna doesn't comment, even as he watches the display. what can he say? he quite likes being shown off by his princess.
After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.
Everything was so much weird.
When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.
You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.
But the real shock came twenty minutes later.
The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.
You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.
"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.
You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.
"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.
Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.
When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.
"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"
You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."
The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.
"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.
"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.
"And do you know where you are right now?"
"A hospital?"
"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."
You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign
So you were married.
"Y/n" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."
The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.
Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?
"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."
You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.
"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.
The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.
"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.
"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.
To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.
"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."
You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.
An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.
You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.
"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.
"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.
"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.
"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."
"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"
"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."
He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.
"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."
He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.
Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.
As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.
"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.
'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.
"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.
It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.
You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.
Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.
"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.
He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.
"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."
You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.
"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."
"Okay" you hummed softly.
His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."
You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.
"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"
His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.
"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.
He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."
"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.
"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"
"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"
"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.
"Why?"
"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."
You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."
The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.
"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."
"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.
"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.
Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."
A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.
Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.
Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.
When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.
And then, there was Sukuna.
Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.
To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.
He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much
His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.
At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.
The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.
Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"
"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.
"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.
"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."
The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"
You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."
You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.
"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.
"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."
You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.
"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.
The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.
As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.
Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.
Crash!
The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.
You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.
You froze.
Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.
Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.
You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.
Pink hair.
The backyard.
The jazz music.
The napkin.
A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.
The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.
When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.
"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.
You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.
But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.
As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.
"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.
Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.
Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.
"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."
Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.
"I fucking love you" he whispers
(not me me writing all night just for 36 like and one reblog😣🙏🏾)
"You're not my boyfriend." Try telling Ryomen Sukuna that when another man gets a little too close.
A/N: you aint my boyfriend and i aint your girlfriend 🤨 if u couldnt tell, this was inspired by boyfriend by ari and social house ✌️😗 this is also an old fic i dug out 🚬 anyways exams have been fucking me raw lately and not in a fun way. i should be out here bussing it down at the club, getting lit, making questionable decisions. instead im bussing it down with textbooks and practice exams. tragic. devastating, even. it's okay though, bc i got bts tickets 😛
Art: @/pattyi.i on insta <3
Sukuna never asked for a commitment. Somehow, the arrangement just fell into place anyway. It started with small things: late night texts, showing up without warning, and a heavy black leather jacket tossed over the back of a chair like it belonged there.
Your phone buzzed softly against the counter.
you home.
No greeting, no question mark—just the absolute assumption of an open door.
yeah.
Three dots appeared instantly.
open up.
A heavy knock followed seconds later.
"Geez. No 'please' or anything" you mumbled, tossing your phone back onto the counter.
Opening the door revealed Ryomen Sukuna leaning against the frame as if he’d been waiting all night. A familiar presence filled the doorway before he even spoke, the air growing heavy with his warm, spicy cologne. Red eyes flicked down, assessing the view. “Thought you were asleep.”
“Bruh, you literally just texted me.”
He hummed, brushing past without waiting for an invitation. His hand lingered briefly on the small of your back, pressing just enough to claim the space before letting go. You shut the door behind him. “You’re going to start paying rent at this point." Sukuna stretched out on your couch, arms draped lazily across the cushions with a smirk. “You’d miss me.” An eye roll was the only response you gave him, but neither side pushed the argument.
Weeks passed in a blur of late nights and shared silences. A heavy hand would rest on your waist during trips around the kitchen, fingers brushing the curve of your hip and teasingly lingering during the morning coffee brew. On walks together, he closed the distance entirely, slipping a hand into the back pocket of your jeans. No matter how many times that hand was swatted away with a muttered, “People are going to think we’re dating” the pink haired man just shrugged, keeping his hand firmly planted against ur ass. He always stood slightly behind or beside you, a silent declaration: I’m here.
Sometimes he waited after lectures, leaning against the campus gate with a lazy, half smirk, arms crossed as the crowd filtered past. Spotting him always made your stomach twist, knowing he’d been waiting long before the dismissal bell. His gaze would lock on, serving as a quiet warning to anyone walking too close.
Nights were spent sharing the couch and stealing blankets, half tangled around his large frame while the remaining fabric barely covered your lap. Sometimes he drapes himself across you, a hand brushing lightly down your arm or against your thigh—never intrusive, but entirely claiming the space. When he relaxed completely, your fingers wander over his tattoos, tracing the sharp lines along his face and chest. Each mark felt almost magnetic under the skin. He would hum low, letting the attention slide, a thumb occasionally brushing your wrist to claim the movement. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath your fingertips, a slight smirk evident in the way he adjusted his posture to keep your hand exactly where he wanted it.
There were nights spent falling asleep in his bed after an argument left unfinished—bodies pressed tight, the quiet between you louder than any words. Other mornings started tangled in his arms, hair brushing his chest, fingers clutching his shirt before fully waking up. His hand would curl around your wrist, a thumb tracing small, slow circles. The habits became second nature to notice: how he leaned a fraction closer when a stranger got too near. The amused smirk whenever a tease was thrown back at him. The trademark "tch" or scoff of annoyance that left his lips. Pressing his forehead to yours in the early mornings, claiming the first minutes of the day. Playing the thief with a tilted head and a lazy, "Oops, that's my spot now" daring an argument.
Almost like a couple. But without labels or promises, the unresolved tension grew nearly unbearable.
Tonight, gojo's house was packed. The bass vibrated faintly through the floorboards, drowning out the roar of the crowded room. People moved in a blur of red cups and loud laughter.
Pausing near the entrance to scan the room, your eyes landed across the living room. Sukuna leaned against the back of a couch, looking entirely too comfortable. A few girls crowded his space, laughing a little too loudly at whatever he’d just muttered. One girl rested a hand on tattooed arm. Another leaned in close, fingers brushing his shoulder. He let them.
Your jaw tightened.
His eyes found yours instantly, as if he’d known the exact second you walked through the door. The crowd seemed to fade under his direct stare. Across the room, through flashing lights and shifting bodies, he just watched. A slow smirk pulled at his lips, waiting to see the reaction. The girl beside him kept talking, her fingers resting on his arm, tracing the very same tattoos you usually spent hours mapping out. Sukuna didn’t move away. He just looked on—unbothered and thoroughly amused.
Typical.
Turning away before he could read anything else on your face, you made a beeline for the kitchen. A quick adjustment was made to the hem of the mini black off shoulder dress, the fabric hugging your waist and tight at the hips. Gold open toe heels clicked softly against the floorboards, gold hoops swaying with the quick tilt of your head. The reflective surface of the fridge offered a quick glimpse—makeup intact, shoulders tense, face slightly flushed from the scene in the living room. Pulling the door open, the cool light spilled out as you grabbed a drink.
“Careful with that one” a voice warned.
Turning around revealed a guy leaning against the counter, sporting a charming smile. “Trust me. It’s stronger than it looks.”
A small laugh escaped you. “I’ll take my chances.”
The guy laughed, stepping a bit closer to be heard over the booming music. “So… what brings you here alone?”
A shrug followed. “Just needed a drink and a break from… life.”
His smirk widened. “I get that. Same here.”
The conversation began to flow more freely, a genuine laugh sparking at a joke he made. It felt easy. The guy leaned in, lowering his voice. “You know, you’ve got this energy. Makes people really want to talk to you.”
A smile crept up, a sudden flutter stirring in your chest—until a familiar scent hit the air. Warm, spicy, and impossible to ignore. The exact aroma that lingered on your clothes every time he pulled you in.
Sukuna.
A heavy pair of arms slid around your waist from behind. His broad chest pressed flush against your back, almost swallowing you as he pulled you back. One hand settled flat against your stomach while the other grazed your hip, fingers brushing the edge of your short dress to anchor you firmly against him. The fabric shifted under his grip, lifting fractionally as you instinctively braced on your heels. Sukuna wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were locked dead on the guy across the counter. Slowly, the pink haired man dipped his head, his nose brushing the side of your neck before settling into the crook of your shoulder. Warm breath ghosted over your bare skin, his fingers tightening just enough to claim you. The gentle sway of gold hoops brushed against him with every shallow inhale.
The guy stiffens. “Oh—uh. Sorry, man, I didn’t know—”
“No” you interrupted, trying to shift out of his grasp. “We’re not—”
“Yeah” Sukuna cuts in smoothly, his voice low. “You should go.”
The guy hesitated, muttered a quick, “Right… my bad” and vanished into the crowd.
You turn inside Sukuna’s arms, looking up at him. “Bruh, what's your problem?”
Sukuna looked down as if nothing had happened.
“You’re not my boyfriend” you huffed out.
His eyes slowly searched your face before letting out a slight scoff.
Pushing lightly against his chest, you snapped, “Stop acting like you own me.”
He simply watched, absorbing the defiance. Then, with a sudden tug at your waist, he pulled you closer. The hem of your dress rode up your ass slightly before his hand reached behind to pull the fabric back into place.
“You want a boyfriend?” His thumb dragged slowly along your jawline, tilting your face up to force eye contact. "That what this is about?”
Silence was the only answer, making his eyes narrow. “Tch. Greedy.”
The music and chatter faded into background noise—the space between you grew heavy. Sukuna hummed softly, his hand sliding back down to the small of your back. His fingers settled there as if they had never left, pressing into the curve. Your heels click softly against the floor as he adjusts his hold, keeping the fit perfect. “And yet” he murmured, leaning closer, “you still let me do this.” Your breath catches when he pulls you a fraction closer.
“Doesn’t really sound like you want a boyfriend” Sukuna said lazily. Dipping his head lower, his lips trailed light kisses along your neck—the same familiar routine he’d done a thousand times before. It made your stomach twist. A sharp inhale brought in his spicy cologne, mixing with the soft sweetness of vanilla perfume until your head spun.
“Sounds like you just want me.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, a low, teasing vibration. “Go ahead… say you’re leaving me.”
The words never came.
A slow smile spread across his face. Because he already knows you won’t.
The air is sharp and smells of damp earth and pine, but inside the Jeep, the atmosphere is pure, unadulterated adrenaline. Sukuna’s in a state of total, infectious joy, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he maneuvers the heavy vehicle through the rugged terrain.
Whenever a tire catches air or a spray of gravel hits the undercarriage, he erupts in loud laughter, and it’s a cheerful, hearty, boisterous sound you absolutely adore.
"Hold on, brat!" he shouts with a feral, wide-eyed grin plastered across his face.
He guns it toward a stretch of lowland that looks more like a soup of dark, sludge-like mud rather than a proper trail. For a few glorious seconds, the Jeep surges forward, its tires spinning and throwing massive plumes of dirt and sludge into the air. Then, with a squelching sound, its momentum dies. The engine roars, tires turn with a whine, but the Jeep keeps sinking until the mud reaches the doors.
Sukuna kills the engine, but he doesn't look annoyed. He’s just been handed a challenge he’s been waiting for all day.
"Stuck," he grunts, though he sounds almost pleased.
He hops out of the driver’s seat, his legs sinking knee-deep into the muck with a wet shuck. You watch from the dry, elevated safety of the passenger side as he trudges toward the front bumper. He’s already covered in filth, his tee clinging to his broad shoulders as he wrestles with the winch cable.
It’s a struggle. The winch is stubborn, the cable slick with mud, and despite the cool breeze, Sukuna sweats. He’s swearing loudly with every heave. His muscles strain as he pulls the heavy line toward a nearby oak tree, a streak of black grease across his cheek, looking wild and undeniably strong.
He pauses for a second to catch his breath, wiping a hand across his forehead and only leaving more mud behind. That’s when he catches you staring at him through the open window with unshielded adoration, resting your chin on your hand.
The thing is—he knows exactly how good he looks right now and that you’re impressed. So he stops his work, standing upright in the muck, and calls out with a smug, pleased smirk, “I know, I know—it’s the best I’ve looked all week. Take a picture. It'll last longer. But try to keep your tongue in your mouth while I’m working, brat.”
You huff out a laugh and lean out further, batting your eyelashes with exaggerated enthusiasm, flashing him a sickly sweet, condescending grin.
“Oh, Kuna,” you coo, your voice syrupy-sweet. Two can play this game. “You’re just so big and strong, aren’t you? Look at you, all muddy and manly, fixing the big, scary truck all by yourself. Such a good boy.”
The smirk vanishes from Sukuna’s face, and he stops abruptly, his hands frozen on the winch cable. He stares at you with a look that’s half a genuine laugh, half a vow to abandon you in the wilderness forever. The smugness is instantly replaced by a deep grumpiness.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ leave you in this swamp,” he growls, his voice dropping to what he thinks is a dangerous, dark rumble, but to you it’s just another Tuesday. “I swear to fucking god, I’m never doing anything manly in front of your ungrateful ass again. Fix your own goddamn struts next time.”
“Don’t pout, baby. Do you want a treat?” you tease, laughing at the pure indignation radiating from him as his ears turn bright red with embarrassment. “Is that what this is about? Come on, who’s my favorite boy?”
Sukuna’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t snap back immediately. Instead, his eyes dart away, and he lets out a sharp, jagged exhale through his nose. He tries to look busy with the winch, but his movements have lost their usual precision as he’s fumbling with the hook.
"Stop it," he mutters, though his tone has lost its edge and is now thick and strained. "I’m not a damn dog. Don't talk to me like that."
"But you’re doing such a great job with that heavy cable!” you chirp, seeing the way his shoulders go stiff. “And just look at those big muscles! I think I might have to get you an extra large pizza tonight just for being so hardworking."
He’s having a battle with himself not to storm over and pull you out through the window. Finally, he lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a huff of suppressed laughter, and you catch him biting his lower lip to keep from grinning. He actually leans into the task with a sudden, renewed burst of energy, as if he’s subconsciously trying to earn more of that ridiculous praise even while he pretends to hate it.
“I’m done with you.” He turns his back to you to finish hooking the winch, his ears not just red now, but a deep, burning crimson that spreads all the way down to his neck. “Go find a stick and build a hut. You’re living here now.”
You can’t help it. You kick off your shoes and hop out of the Jeep, the cold mud squelching between your toes as you splash through the pit. He hears you coming and tries to stay focused on the tree, but you’re relentless. You reach him and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head down.
He tries to stay rigid, to keep up the act of being over it, but as you pepper his grumpy, mud-streaked face with kisses, his resolve crumbles. After finally hooking the cable, his large, muddy hands instantly find your waist, and he hoists you a little too enthusiastically for a man claiming to be annoyed.
"Get off," he grumbles, even as he pulls you tighter against his chest and buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide the smug grin he can't hold back anymore, leaving massive mud prints on your back. "You’re getting filth everywhere."
"You love it," you murmur against his cheek.
"I hate it,” he lies, his voice vibrating warmly against your skin as he squeezes you. “But whatever. Just stay still so I don’t drop you in it, you menace.”
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nanami’s high maintenance girlfriend and her emergencies
nanami had learned, over the course of loving you, that your definition of emergency and everyone else’s definition of emergency existed on entirely different planes of reality.
his phone buzzes against the conference table. then again. nanami glances down with a frown while someone drones on about curse logistics.
baby 💗 kento this is bad
baby 💗 like actually bad
baby 💗 emergency
nanami’s brows knit. across the table, gojo leans halfway over in blatant nosiness. “what’s with the face?”
nanami ignores him, already standing. “excuse me for a moment.”
nanami shuts the door behind him before answering. “hello.”
your voice comes through watery and upset. “kento.”
his posture straightens immediately. “what happened?”
“it’s awful.”
his chest tightens. “are you hurt?”
“worse.”
nanami pauses. “…worse?”
there’s a tiny, devastated inhale. “my nail broke.”
“…your what?”
“my nail, kento!” your voice cracks. “the pretty one. the one with the little bow.”
nanami closes his eyes, slowly exhales out his nose. “i see.”
“it fully broke,” you whisper, sounding genuinely shattered. “like all the way. the shape is ugly and i tried to fix it but it looks worse and i hate it. and—and i tried calling my nail place but they can’t fit me in for any times right now.”
nanami pinches the bridge of his nose. behind his closed eyelids, he can picture you perfectly. sitting somewhere in your apartment, lower lip trembling, staring at your hand. he can hear the tears in your voice.
ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. “give me a moment, honey,” he says, voice even despite the faint headache blooming behind his eyes. “my meeting is almost over.”
your sniffle crackles through the speaker. “okay…”
“i’ll call you back.”
“i love you.”
another quiet exhale “…yes, i know. i love you too, sweetheart.”
he hangs up and returns to the conference room. for approximately one minute, nanami tries. he sits back down. someone resumes talking. gojo keeps looking at him with this expression and waggling his eyebrows.
“…and if we reassign the patrol routes,” someone says, voice fading into background noise. nanami thinks of your watery little kento through the phone. your sniffles. the dramatic devastation in your voice.
he shuts his eyes briefly. for a sane, rational person, this would not constitute an emergency. for you… nanami exhales quietly, standing. “i’m sorry, but something’s come up. please email me the rest of the meeting.”
gojo wheezes loudly and nanami ignores him, already grabbing his coat. he knows, against all logic and reason, knew the second he sees your face all crumpled up and teary-eyed, he’dllsigh, kiss your forehead, take your hand gently in his, and spend the rest of the evening fixing your crisis.
because unfortunately for him, he loves you.
and because even more unfortunately, your emergencies have become his too.
arguing with your boyfriend over something so petty—actually funny that it's still ongoing.
nanami kento made a vow to never let you go to bed with a heavy heart.
your boyfriend, who'd take the blame and apologize for every argument no matter who was at fault.
the same man who swore he'd love you even if you were a louse (put you on his head just so you'd survive typeshi).
it all started on a wednesday afternoon. sunlight streamed through the windows as you both curled into the couch. the tv played a movie—something about high schoolers singing—but your mind drifted off elsewhere.
"are we meant to be?" you queried the man slumped against you.
"not really." he said, entirely unfazed.
"excuse me?"
***
it was day two of ignoring nanami.
he stepped into the bedroom, spotting you curled under the covers with your back to him. the room was dark except for the faint glow from the hallway.
"darling?" he padded over and gently sat on the edge of the bed.
he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face.
"i apologize but i still find the notion of fate disagreeable."
you don't respond.
"it could've picked anyone for me. any random person across town or some celebrity i don't like." you turn, glaring daggers at your boyfriend.
"fate didn't choose you." nanami said softly, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "i did."
he turned his head slightly and tucked the duvet under your chin.
"i believe i chose you every single day since we met." his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "i chose to be the first one you see when you open your eyes. and be the last before you sleep."
his thumb brushes your cheekbone.
"even when my hair turns white. even if my skin starts to wrinkle. even if i won't be able to open my eyes. even if you can't hear me anymore."
