suguru is obsessed with aftercare...and you apparently
There’s a soft rock song playing in the background when Suguru finally finishes inside you, his hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead and his eyes looking at you with that soft gentle quality he only reserves for you.
He swipes his thumb over your cheek as your eyes flutter open, allowing for the last wave of post-orgasmic bliss to wash over you.
“Hey gorgeous,” Suguru whispers softly, slowly making his way out of you and peppering kisses along your jaw, neck, and chest.
“Hey loser,” You reply back, smiling up at him as your eyes drift close again.
Suguru slowly gets up, making you groan as you feel the loss of his weight and his warmth. “Come on, you should shower,” He says, lifting you up with his strong arms and carrying you to the bathroom.
He strokes at your hair and allows his hands to roam all of you, as if he’s trying to remember you through engraving your body on his fingertips.
You push at him delicately, creating distance as you stretch out your limbs languidly.
“I have to shower,” You say faintly, your voice hoarse and your throat a little sore. Suguru closes the distance once again, kissing your lips with fleeting warmth and slowly trailing his hands all across your body again.
“I don’t see why I have to go for that,” He mumbles in between kisses, alternating from kissing your lips, to your earlobes, to your neck, and to your jaw.
“I have to shower,” You reiterate, feeling a soft giggle bubble in your throat as you feel his touch hovering over somewhere ticklish.
“Exactly, let’s go,” Suguru says, dropping his hands to yours and leading you towards the bathtub.
“I don’t remember showering being a group activity,” You chuckle as you see Suguru pout.
He shakes his head, his long raven hair falling perfectly over his shoulders and accentuating his form as if giving him an outline. “It is now,” He replies defiantly.
You shake your head and give him a look that has no heat in it whatsoever—only love, a quiet bubbling love that is subtle but definitely there. “Well you can find someone else to shower with because it won’t be me.”
Shaking him off of you, you make your way to the shower, stepping in and you’re about to turn on the water before you feel someone wrap their strong arms around your waist.
Suguru pulls you into a deep kiss, a one that is not messy but slow. It’s slow and it’s purposeful. A love letter laced in tongue.
He gives you a soft laugh when he hears you moan softly into his lips, pulling back to brush hairs from your face and tuck it behind your ears, “It wouldn’t be the same,” He says finally after looking at you for ages. Stroking at your cheek and holding your jaw.
“What?”
“It’d have to be you, it’ll always be you baby.”
You look at him incredulously, your heart beating a mile a minute before you watch him turn away and walk out of the bathroom, leaving you to shower like you asked.
You can’t help but miss the way his arms slotted around you perfectly, and the way his breath felt on your skin as he poured out his sentiments.
When you finish, you see Suguru on the bed, hair wet and wearing a big band tee and long pajama pants, smoking a cigarette while looking out the window.
You climb on the bed and slot yourself right in between his legs like you belong there—and part of you thinks that in more ways than one, you do belong there.
He reaches up at your face and cups it in his hands, pulling you down to kiss him. Soft, sweet, and deep like everything is with him.
He palms at your hair, and kisses you like he means it—like he really wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you.
When you pull back you give him a smile, your voice dipped in honey and totally saccharine, “You smell like cigarettes.”
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The first thing anyone on campus learned about Ryomen Sukuna was simple
Avoid him.
The second thing they learned?
Avoid him harder.
Sukuna was the kind of guy professors dreaded seeing on their attendance sheets. The kind of guy who made freshmen cross the street when they spotted him walking toward them. He wasn’t even trying to be intimidating half the time—he just naturally looked like he was one bad day away from committing a felony.
He was rude.
Arrogant.
Mean for absolutely no reason.
And unfortunately for everyone else, he was also ridiculously attractive… which made things worse.
The frat house he shared with Toji, Choso, and Geto had gained its own reputation because of him. People threw parties there, sure, but they also had entire group chats dedicated to warning others about interacting with Sukuna.
“Don’t ask him for notes.”
“Don’t ask him for directions.”
“Don’t ask him for anything.”
“He called me an idiot for holding a door open for him.”
“He told me my major was useless.”
“He told me my face was annoying…I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HIM.”
So naturally, when the campus sweetheart showed up at the frat house asking for him…
Everyone was… confused.
You stood on the front porch clutching your bag, looking entirely too adorable to be standing in front of this house. The afternoon sunlight caught your smile as you thanked Choso for answering the door.
“I was looking for Sukuna.”
The silence that followed was immediate.
Choso blinked.. “…Sukuna?”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
He looked concerned... very concerned.
Behind him, Toji and Geto looked just as concerned as Him.
“…Why?” Choso asked carefully.
You tilted your head.
“Hm?”
“What do you need Sukuna for?”
“Oh.”
You laughed a bit, like that wasn’t the most valid question-
“I just wanted to see him.”
The concern somehow got worse.
Toji finally walked over.
“Kid.”
You looked up at him.
“Yeah?”
“Did he threaten you?”
“…What?”
“Blackmail?”
“No?”
“This some kind of.. group project thing?”
You shook your head.
Geto had now joined the crowd.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“The project.”
“There isn’t a project.”
Toji sighed.
“Look. You’re nice.”
“Thank you?”
“And he’s…” Toji gestured vaguely.
“Evil..” Choso supplied.
“A walking lawsuit..” Geto added.
“A dick.”
You stared at them.
The three men stared back.
Choso crossed his arms.
“Trust us. Whatever you’re doing with or for Sukuna isn’t worth it.”
The three stared at you like you’d mentioned bombing their frat house.
You smiled awkwardly.
“…His what?”
You laughed softly. “I’m his girlfriend.”
The three men looked like their souls had temporarily left their bodies.
“No.”
You blinked.
“No?”
“That’s not possible.”
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
You frowned.
“It literally is.”
Toji looked horrified.
“You’re telling me Ryomen.. has a girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“The Sukuna?”
You nodded.
“The same Sukuna who told a guy his haircut looked like a public health violation?”
“…Probably?”
“The same Sukuna who got banned from two campus clubs in the same week?”
“Maybe?”
“The same Sukuna who called a professor annoying to his face?”
“That sounds like him.”
Nobody spoke, because frankly?
Nothing about this made sense.
You were the nicest person on campus.
Everyone knew you.
You volunteered, you tutored students, you remembered birthdays. You baked cookies for stressed classmates during finals week. You once helped a lost freshman find her dorm and then carried her suitcase up three flights of stairs. Meanwhile Sukuna once told someone their dog was smarter than they were.
The math WAS NOT mathing.
Then the hallway door opened.
Heavy footsteps approached.
And suddenly there he was.
Sukuna.
Tall, Intimidating, covered in tattoos… and looking incredibly annoyed.
“What the hell is taking so—”
He stopped when his eyes landed on you.
Immediately—IMMEDIATELY— His entire expression changed.
The irritation vanished.
Gone…Just gone.
“…There you are.”
Your face brightened.
“Hi Ryo.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I brought you lunch.”
“Lunch?”
You held up a small bag.
“You always forget to eat lunch on gym days.”
“…Oh.”
The giant terrifying man suddenly looked almost embarrassed.
Almost.
“Well.. thanks.”
“No problem.”
The others looked ready to pass out. Because Sukuna had just said thank you.
To a human being.
Voluntarily.
You smiled and held out the bag, but instead of taking it immediately, Sukuna grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you closer.
“You eat already?”
You nodded.
“Enough?”
“Yes.”
“Water?”
You giggled.
“Yes, mom.”
“You sleeping?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly isn’t an answer.”
You pouted.
“It’s close enough.”
“No.”
The pout deepened.
And to everyone’s horror—
Sukuna sighed and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.
“Brat.”
The others collectively stopped functioning.
You smiled happily.
“Love you too Ryo.”
Sukuna rolled his eyes, but corners of his mouth twitched upward.
“What the hell.” Toji muttered.
Sukuna glanced over.
“What?”
“What was THAT?”
“What was what?”
“You kissed her.”
Sukuna looked confused.
“…Yeah.”
“YOU KISSED HER.”
“And?”
“YOU HAVE FEELINGS.”
Sukuna stared at him.
Then looked at you.
Then back at Toji.
Like Toji was the stupid one.
“Obviously.”
The room went silent again.
Because apparently the scariest man on campus wasn’t incapable of love. He’d just used every ounce of kindness he possessed on exactly one person. And as Sukuna casually wrapped an arm around your shoulders while you happily leaned into him, everyone in the room came to the same realization:
Sukuna wasn’t mean to everyone.
He was mean to everyone else.
You, unfortunately—or perhaps very fortunately—were the one exception.
A/N: this is based off this trend I keep seeing on tiktok (boyfriend of the sweetest girl you know.. or ect depending on the character and now I’m gonna do one for everyone possible..)
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In 2026, the chicest thing a gay actor can do is never explicitly come out as gay but also make it abundantly clear that he is. Coming out is too modern. Staying closeted is too old fashioned. But this method merges contemporary freedom with Old Hollywood glamour and allure, and it weeds out the dumbest people who truly don’t get it. I call it the Pascal Method.
You clearly don't go here or to queer history and signaling, or both, enough to have this conversation and I'm not going to explain it to you. You could have asked questions, you could have done even a modicum of research. You didn't and you made yourself look ignorant. Goodbye.
#I'm fucking crying#this is an instant classic#this is the next meme#i can't believe I'm here to see a baby copypasta nary two hours old#I can't#lol#i laughed way too hard#iconic
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— in which! a hot lady suddenly moved in next door and got your life utterly fucked.
OR Ada Wong is your not-so-typical unfriendly neighborhood tattoo artist, and you own a coffee shop beside her.
word count! 2.5k
content! cliché, idiots in love, MDNI HEAVY MAKEOUT SESH, f!reader (wuhluhwuh), eng not my first lang, this was s'pposed to be posted with my anniv special but i got hit w writer's block soooo i couldn't finish some of 'em, this is my sacrifice. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!! not beta-ed we die like my wips
loosely inspired by: kaba by tootsie guevarra
Your day started with you banging on your newly moved-in neighbor’s door.
Why? Because who the fuck would think that it’s a good idea to blast metal rock at the crack-ass of dawn? Your neighbor, apparently.
See, it would’ve been fine if it were the first time they did it. But nooo. Since the lot became occupied, your mornings have never been quite the same. If KISS’s I Was Made For Lovin’ You wasn’t playing on loop, you’d think the person next door had been kidnapped.
So, yes, while terribly endearing (haha), you really, really want to sleep in. Maybe a peaceful day where you won’t hear any 70’s rock metal, preferably. God forbid a girl just wants her peaceful mornings listening to birds singing while making coffee.
“What is it, Karen?” Someone grumbled, madly annoyed, just from her tone.
You would’ve been lying if you said that didn’t pissed you off.
But you also would’ve been lying even harder if you said that the drop-dead fucking gorgeous woman didn’t make your tongue twist in a pretty bow.
God, fuck. Why were you always so damn pathetically weak for hot women?
“Hello? Are you just gonna stand there ogling or what?” The pretty woman snapped her finger in your face, just as sassy as her tone. Shit, you were too obvious, weren’t you?
As if snapping out of a trance, you shook your head, a polite smile forcing its return to your face, as you returned her eye contact. Rude and hot. Of-fucking-course.
“I’m sorry, that was quite rude of me, wasn’t it?” You started, kinda sheepish. “Would you mind lowering the volume of your… wake-up call? It’s disturbing some people’s sleep.”
“Are you implying that I’m a nuisance?” She scoffed, already turning her heels and closing the door before even letting you speak. Your polite smile vanished, turning into a bitter scowl. You really would’ve liked her if not for her shitty attitude.
Deciding to be the bigger person, you walked away, disregarding the interaction for the sake of your mental health. But you did notice the dramatic decrease in volume from her bass speaker. Maybe the pretty neighbor was just horseshit at social interactions, after all.
That, ladies and gentlemen, queers and non-binaries, is your very first interaction with your suspicious, drop-dead gorgeous, loud next-door neighbor, Ms. Wong (yes, you still don’t know her first name; her porch did not exactly come with a birth certificate attached to it, y’know).
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You should’ve known the universe has been wanting to fuck you up in the ass. It’s been giving you signs, and you just. like. ignoring. it.
First, it was that hot neighbor and her loud-ass bass. Second, there were your unbearably warm pillows that put lava to shame. Third, your brand new fucking espresso machine that—for the love of everything holy and unholy—refused to turn the fuck on.
Fourth, is—well—how could you say this in a… less offensive tone?
Right.
Fourth, your fuckass, incredibly rude (& hot) house neighbor is also your neighbor here. At your freaking job.
She’s the owner of the newly bought tattoo parlor, right. next. to. yours.
Fuck your life, man.
“Hey, are you stalking me?” You barely registered her saying. Matter of fact, you barely fuckin’ registered her walking up to you—with a nasty smirk.
“No, I—… I work here!” You sputtered, pink dusting your flushed cheeks. You heard her chuckle—god, it was a fucking experience. It was light and airy, amusement dancing in her features. You actually cannot do this right now—
“Whatever you say, weirdo. You own that cute cafe, yeah?”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“Say, if I order, will there be a discount?”
“And for what? Being my neighbor doesn’t guarantee you a—”
“For, you know, letting you stare down for free. Don’t bother denying; I saw where your eyes were earlier—it’s not exactly in my eyes.”
…
The fuck could you even respond to that?!
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You gave one for free.
Out of spite.
“Don’t ever talk about this to anyone, ever again. In fact, don’t even come near my shop. You’re getting banned.” You stood in front of her, slamming the large cup on a nearby table with a glare that could rival a dinosaur. She thinks you look like a noisy kitten.
She then proceeded to stare at you with a twinkle in her eyes that meant you’d definitely see her again. Like, okay, of course you will. You’re damn neighbors freaking everywhere—but that’s not the point!
“Name’s Ada Wong, doll. Y’know, in case you wanna stalk me some more.”
Now that made you storm off in frustration. Loudly stomping your feet and slamming the door like a toddler having a tantrum.
And if you hear a soft, airy chuckle that makes your heart skip several beats for a minute? Well, that’s not the pandora’s box you wanna open.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Days bled to weeks, and weeks sped by to months; you know what became a constant? Your banter with the one and only, your unfriendly neighborhood tattoo artist, Miss Ma’am Ada Wong.
Well, more like she’s bantering, and you’re stubbornly refusing to lose—exactly like an angry kitten being poked like a hundred times (her exact words, not yours).
It’s annoying; it’s hot. Oftentimes, you rub one out to release your (sexual) frustration. And when the post-nut clarity hits? Fuck, you keep on wondering what the hell fucking happened, and why the hell were you not shoving your tongues in each other’s throats? Because holy fuck, there’s tension. That’s a fact. You know that as a fact. Because why else does she stare at your lips while royally pissing you off, looking utterly pleased with herself?
“Hey,” Ada called your name, rousing you out of your reverie. Fuck, you really gotta stop doing that.
“The hell you want, Bobcut?”
“Oh? That’s new. What’s got your panties in a twist?”
“You—I mean, your loud-ass music. It’s deafening my ears.” That got her brow raised. She never really turned up her music today—not at home, not at her shop.
“Okay, weirdo. Do you always—”
“Sweets! Hey!” Ada heard a man shout, calling your attention. If she felt her eye twitch, she refused to talk about that. You were on your break, for godssake! And break meant you spending your time being pissy in her parlor while eating lunch. Fucking hell.
“Oh? Hey!” She saw your eyes brighten up, making hers dim. Not that god-awful man again. She walked away without saying anything, and if you saw her roll her eyes in annoyance? Well, all she’s gonna be doing is to deny, deny, deny.
“Oh my gosh—I told you to stop touching me like that!” Your sudden, distressed shout made Ada still, her hands clenched into a fist. She turned back, again, intervening against her better judgment.
“Doll? What’re you still doing here? Thought we’d leave early.” She said sweetly, as if you literally weren’t arguing about penguin tattoos moments prior.
“Must’ve slipped my mind, ‘m sorry.” You whispered, trembling while looking at her like she was your salvation. God, you hated the fact that her effects on you were still so fucking strong—even if you’re annoyed out of your mind with some fuckwit regular being a little too touchy.
“Naughty. I’ve reminded you that al—” her airy chuckles permeate the air before she is rudely cut off. By a man, no less. That got your eye twitch.
“Sorry, who are you?” The man bitterly said, sizing her up. Ada didn’t spare him a single glance. She just leaned to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smoothly tracing her fingers to pinch your cheek. You felt like you had suddenly entered an alternate universe.
“Let’s get the hell out, yeah?” She whispered with a secret smile, beckoning you to stand up and holding your hand. Just as you did, you felt the man roughly grab your arm, leading you to almost stumble—if not for Ada’s support, gently steadying you.
“Hey, I’m still talking to you!” The man grunted, his grip tightening painfully, making you wince.
“Let go!—the fuck is wrong with you?!” You tried yanking your arm away, but it was futile. Fucking hell, you could already feel a nasty handprint-bruise forming.
While Ada? Ada is fucking livid; she could see flames. How dare he touch you? A god-awful, filthy stain in a shoe, man fucking touched you.
“Get your hands off, ‘else you want it gone.” She spat, jaw clenched with a matching glare that could shoot him dead. An icy chill ran down the pathetic man’s spine, making his grip slightly falter. But he couldn’t let go—not yet. He refused to. His ego’s way too big for that.
Listen, if you weren’t—quite literally—stuck being manhandled by an asshole, you would’ve kissed her by now. Like, seriously, she looks so fucking cute protecting you. Your head is becoming concerningly jumbled, and it wasn’t because of the asshole or the situation—well, okay, maybe if the situation was named Ada Wong, theeeeen you’ll bite.
“How about a no—” Before anything could be said or heard, a loud smack! rang in the silent room. One moment, the man was standing beside you (roughly gripping your poor, unfortunate arm), then the next, he was down to the ground, clutching his face with tears in his eyes, sporting a nasty bruise and an ugly lip cut.
“My girlfriend is not yours to touch—more or less, hurt.” She hissed, standing in front of you protectively. You don’t know how she got there, but you do know one thing for certain: something dripped, and it’s not tears nor sweat.
She stomped at the man one last time before facing you, silently scanning where you’ve been hurt. Her eyes zeroed in on your arm; splotches of red and purple in place of fingerprints were visible. “You’re hurt.” Her words soften as she places her hand on the small of your back, leading you further inside.
If you heard her employees (and customers) whisper and whistle in congratulations, well, you grinned in pride (Ada just looked mad defeated, but the smile she was fighting off speaks a LOT).
She guided you to her private booth, closing the door for privacy.
“Hey, I’m sorry for ca—”
“Did you mean it?” You breathe, looking at her with glistening eyes.
“Were you uncomfortable? Sorry, I—”
“No, I don’t give a shit. Did you mean it?” You persisted, gently holding her hands, tracing absent circles—either to comfort her or yourself, you weren’t quite sure.
Ada took a deep breath, her grip on you slightly tightening subconsciously before loosening.
“I do.” She whispered as if it were the first breath of fresh air. “From the moment you bitched about my loud bass, I knew I was done for.”
You didn’t speak, letting her finish. You continued to stare at her in the same fond manner you’ve always had. You continued to admire her raven locks and her bob cut that always manages to frame her face perfectly. You continued to look at her twinkling eyes, which always seemed to bring sarcasm and wit. You continued to gaze at her soft, kissable, pink lips—you’ve never once seen them chapped. Fuck, you’re in this deep, aren’t you?
“I never said anything because, well, I don’t know if you even like women that way—fuck, if you even like me that way.” Even if she couldn’t hold back the self-deprecating laugh she let out, she continued. “I just—I was just content with being whatever we are ‘cause I’d rather have that… than not have you at all.” Her voice gradually faded into a whisper, a testament to how much the ruthless yet graceful lady exterior earlier crumbled in the face of an uncertain variable called love.
Specifically loving a woman you didn’t know loves you back, and is currently clenching her fist to calm herself down, leaving her palm with mini crescents because—holy fucking shit, what do you mean my long-time crush-slash-enemy-ish just confessed to me aaaaaaaaaaahhh—but it’s whatever.
“I—… Fuck, it’s about time.” You threw your arms around her neck, grip slightly tightening with joy. “Thought you were never gonna say something.” You whispered in her ear—catching her off guard.
“I—”
“I like you. So much.” With your voice that only whispers the truth, Ada felt as if this godforsaken world finally did her right.
You leaned close, noses touching as you waited for her permission to continue. She closed the gap, not even a second later.
Her lips were soft, languidly moving in yours like a waltz. Her hand cupped the back of your head, while her other hand traced your back before settling on the curve of your waist—pulling you impossibly closer. You couldn't help but melt into her arms, parting your lips with a gasp. She took that opportunity to swirl her tongue in yours, greedily exploring the crevices of your mouth. Mewls and whimpers bubbled in your throat as she took it with a grin—lightly sucking your tongue.
You didn't know when she pulled away, just the fact that after she did, warm, wet kisses trailed to the column of your neck.
“F-fuck, babe.” You whimpered, mind barely functioning, as she was the only one keeping you anchored.
Ada chuckled, her hand trailing from the back of your neck down to your collarbone. She tugged the neckline of your blouse before popping open a button.
“Can't let other people think you're up for grabs, Doll. Gotta fix that, don't you think?” She mumbled to your skin, expertly finding your sweet spot. She licked a stripe before making marks with a vigour you didn't think she had. It wasn't long until she had you putty on her hold.
You were a mess. A whimpering, moaning mess. Ada thinks she could print out the sight from just her memory. Fuck, you look too pretty with lipstick smudges decorating your lips and her marks that littered your neck—with your brows furrowed in pleasure, and the unsteady rise and fall of your chest.
You're a masterpiece she wanted to be framed on her walls to spend hours worshipping.
“My needy Doll. You’re already this worked out after a bit of kissing? Haven’t even tasted you yet.” She hummed, tucking the stray strands of your hair behind your ear.
She then leaned close to your ear, her teeth grazing the tips, as her warm breathy whisper made you shiver. “Bet my needy doll’s already so wet for me, hm?”
ME NEXT ADA ME NEXT!! also i have to get real formal for a bit, i saw some minors interacting my sttnshp! leon fic and as much as i love love LOVE my readers, i would prefer if you don't interact w my fics w heavy suggestive shit—esp if it has allusions to SEXUAL INTERCOURSE!!! internet safety or whatnot. anywhooooo, did you enjoy this one? i struggled with proofreading this 'cuz ada just makes me crumble into a ball and giggle like a maniac. i really hope i freaking finish my wips like i SWEAR, i have a lot planned but it's hindering meeeeeeeeee!!! i was abt to publish a vanta fic too smh. as always, rbs are appreciated, inbox is open if u wanna send smexy ideas to get me out of my slump and hehhe ily mwah! see u on the next post!
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And he wants to give you all the space you want to deal with your emotions before you're ready to talk to him about it.
But as he sits across from you while you ignore him to watch some cliche soap opera that's been ongoing for 10 years with more than 600 episodes and refuse to eat, he can't help himself.
First, he has to rein the laughter in. He schools his features into one of grave seriousness like he's about to interrogate a criminal and in a solemn tone, finally attempts to address you again.
"Psspss, kitten"
It's almost comical how fast your head snaps up, almost identical to a real ball of fur, head snapping around before your gaze lands on Sylus who is trying his hardest not to laugh.
"Did you just-"
"Are you hungry?" Sylus shows no signs of having said something prior to this at all, looking serene but you're sure you heard him.
When you going back to ignoring him, not deeming him worthy of even a response, Sylus tries again.
"Psspss here kitty"
This time, you're sure of what you heard, indignation filling your veins at his audacity as you get up from where you'd been watching your show, aiming straight for your boyfriend, violence clear in your aura.
Sylus, for all his flaws, knows when self-preservation should take charge as he shoots up from his seat, dodging your attack and making a run for it with you hot on his heels.
"I can't believe you would psspss me like I'm some stray-!" You pick up a throw pillow in the midst of your chasing, tossing it straight at the Leader of Onychinus who ducks at the correct time and successfully dodges it.
"I tried to get you to eat with me before-" Sylus ducks again to dodge your attack- two throw pillows thrown in succession- standing up straight before he resumes running around the couch with you right behind "-and you wouldn't acknowledge me"
"Because I'm still mad at you!"
Sylus stops running at that, turning to face you as you attack him with balled up fists that land no damage at all "Be mad at me all you want" He says, long fingers encircling your wrists and holding them right over his heart "But don't skip your meals because of it"
You frown at him "Acting all sweet now won't work after you watched the season finale without me!"
Again, Sylus tries his hardest to hold his laughter in. But you catch the smile threatening to break on his features anyway.
"You're in timeout" You even point to the far wall and Sylus finally ends up grinning because he thinks you're really cute when you're joking.
His smile drops real fast when he realizes you're not.
Two minutes later, he's standing by the wall, fully grown adult, mob boss, one of the most feared beings on the planet, trying to appease his girlfriend but you know it won't be long before he can't help himself.
When you feel something collide with the side of your foot a while later, you peer down to see a bunched up ball of string at your heels.
With Sylus holding the loose end tauntingly.
The moment Sylus sees you bunch up the ball in your fist as you slowly stand to face him, he knows he's screwed.
But he doesn't need saving. He's right where he wants to be.
