"Why is the laundry still not done?"
Sukuna shrugged, continuing to mindlessly tap away on his phone. He was, without a doubt, playing one of those little games that he downloaded specifically for when he had no WiFi. Block Blast? You couldn't remember.
"I'll do it later," he beganāhis eyes still glued to his screen, "juste aprĆØs que je te do."
For extra credit, your boyfriend, Sukuna, once took a French course during college, and now he spends most of his time saying short French phrases to youāon purpose, because he knows you won't be able to know if he's cursing you out, or just shamelessly flirting with you.
"You are such an ass," you groaned. "I reminded you this morning, before lunch, and after lunch; it's six in the afternoon, 'Kuna."
"Ma chƩrie, relax. It's not good to be so tense all the time," Sukuna teased, finally turning to face you. "Thankfully, I know a way to get rid of your stress."
"I wouldn't be fucking stressed in the first place if it weren't for your laziness, you littleāwait. . . What's the French word for 'asshole'?"
"Meilleur et le plus beau petit ami du monde entier."
"That's . . . too many words." You crossed your arms over your chest, amused. "Clearly, you're bluffing."
"Or, clearly, I'm just a man in love," Sukuna said, a sultry look on his face, "āwith his beautiful, amazing, smart, and did I mention, sexy, girlfriend. I'm just so moony-eyed these days, and my heart is just so full of you that I cannot even remember to do the laundry."
"Stop trying to seduce me, dickhead."
"Pfft, I am not seducing you; I am simply avouer mon amour to la lumiĆØre de ma vie."
You paused, whipping out your phone and doing a quick Google Translate, before saying,
"*Si tu n'arrĆŖtes pas de parler franƧais . . . je vais te mettre une baguette dans le cul."
"Merde," Sukuna gasped, in disbelief, before realizing his mistake. "Fuck. Baby, no, I meantā"
