#also meat hooks!

[den-ai-d]

The October reward, Pyramid Head! Better late than never eh? 😅

Looks like he's deep into that guy eh? Poor lad.

Three alts available on my patreon; small spicy preview of that under the cut😉

[utane]

Mel finds out why uncle Mud had the outdated uniform

(and Mud is reminded why he hates Joshua)

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

btw. rambling.

with how it ends with peri doing a meta comment hoping they'll get a season 2. i think it's safe to assume the writers want a season 2. and with that in mind, it makes what happened with Dev something more similar to sequel bait than actual end of his character. i mean Peri's introduction was even through Dev, without him he'd be just. there. which would be a shame just in terms of writing. especially when the writer also clearly likes Peri since our man is the one having the final line of the season. in the same way I'm pretty sure the writers care a lot about Dev too, I mean, even in this finale at his darkest hour you had constant reminders of how he's just. desperate for his father's attention. So yeah.

Dev not remembering is likely not his intended final ending, just the logical one for this finale that also pushes you to want to see more. Hazel's friends and brother remembering is an opening for new situations in a second season (Hazel may get pushed to make wishes by them, even if sometimes involuntarily; Hazel may make more wishes directly involving them, allowing for newer stories that couldn't be carried by just Hazel Cosmo and Wanda); Dev forgetting is the bait to make you want a second season

[wings-0f-sorrow]

been playing d/b/d again since getting my steam account back and shoutout to the ji/ll in the match i had just now who was just standing there doing absolutely nothing in the corner downstairs while i was on the hook just simmering. honestly shoutout to everybody that game that match was. something.

[datastate]

i always take forever to eat soz

[fridayiminlovemp3]

do i believe that taylor and karlie kissed at the 1975 concert in 2014 … well that’s one secret i’ll never tell xoxo

[obligatory-name-change]

You ever have opinions about media but you can't think of a way to talk about them without sounding Absolutely Deranged

[cactuscryptid]

Ive always thought it strange for Clone Wars to include a pretty long arc about younglings finding their place as Jedi and experiencing this big catalyst of emotional growth, only for them to die like 3 or 4 years later or however long it takes for Order 66. Like you get us attached to these kids but we know they're going to die like VERY soon??? And when they bring back Gungi in The Bad Batch, it just makes me more sad???? Because all his friends were murdered??????? Idk maybe im not meant to think about it but im considering a Clone Wars rewatch and remembering all the arcs that become entirely irrelevant after the finale its really bad I hate star wars

[knottingnoodle]

[bibleofficial]

i love pastagirls so much. they just say smthg ‘fancy’ re: probably italian & u can assume it’s just some noodle

[fear-is-truth]

contains : erotic & horror themes, including depictions of monsterfucking, violence & blood. reader is imagined to be black, though interpretation is open. MDNI 18+ note. english is not my first language, ignore typos

MAMA USED TO SAY AINT NO GOOD EVER CAME FROM A MAN WHO TALKED SMOOTH. told you that they’re either preachers or predators, and neither’s worth your virtue or your time. (sometimes, you think maybe she was just trying to ward you off pretty white boys.)

she also told you all about vampires.

according to her, vampires couldn’t cross a threshold unless you bid them, that holy water’ll make their skin slough off like boiled peaches. she said they couldn’t cross running water either.

that part, you’ve since learned, was nonsense.

it was a vampire who damn near carried you across the creek last week when your heel got wedged between the rocks. he didn’t flinch at the current—simply hitched up his trousers and waded through, big arms hooked beneath your thighs like you weighed nothing at all.

your mama was a wise woman, but there are things she couldn’t have known.

after all, she never met remmick.

he first came to you when the heat broke. the song of cicadas gone silent, purple bruised sky leaking copper. june’s breath turning sweet and spoiled like ripe fruit. you opened the door barefoot, porch boards sun-warm beneath your soles.

now he comes and goes as he pleases.

his skin is as cold than the river stones under your feet that day. cold even when he’s fully sheathed inside you, fucking into you nice and slow.

his pupils stay tar-black until he’s hungry. then they bloom red—rich and furious, red as poppies—just as he’s yanking your bloomers down, breathing hard against the inside of your thigh.

his mouth unhinges in such a way that can only be described as serpentine. you’ve seen the full spread of it. a row of fangs where a human’s teeth should be, gums slick and red like fresh meat. tongue, long and deft, moves with inhuman control—circling your clit, lapping at it in slow, surgical swipes like it was shaped for that purpose alone.

he keeps the claws tucked away most days. but you’ve seen them. curved obsidian sickles catching the lamplight, retractable like a cat’s. the first time he let them slip during sex, he raked them down your back mid-climax—tore your nightgown straight down the spine, left welts that stung for days. another time, remmick clawed through the headboard, splintered it clean, hips stuttering while his mouth stretched wide, teeth bared. you watched it happen from beneath him, utterly struck by the sheer violence of it. and the beauty.

he’s not entirely invincible, though. the smell of garlic makes him recoil in disgust. sunlight and silver blisters his skin on contact.

remmick is the monster you’ve been warned about. the thing with claws and fangs, glowing red eyes and cold skin.

you’re not stupid. you knew better. that’s why you keep a silver charm strung around your neck. holy water in a flask on your bedside table, and most importantly — a stake under your pillow.

but knowing hasn’t stopped you from letting him kneel between your thighs and lick you open with that obscene mouth in search of ripeness. hasn’t stopped those cold lips from murmuring “mo chroí… cailín milis…” against your skin as he pushes in slow, every thick inch of him dragging against soaked velvet walls.

you want him.

in ways that aren’t just carnal, even if you both pretend otherwise.

and maybe—just maybe—your mama wasn’t warning you about monsters.

maybe she was warning you about the mistake of falling for one.

[szilverer]

Reisz only exists because of a string of murders. They don't know it, but they were born from a cocoon of corpses. Their very body is a graveyard.

Maybe that's why the concept seems to matter so little for them. Isn't death natural? They intimately cannot understand the fear of death yet, and they intimately know they are the odd one here. (There's a factor at play here that affects them on an instinctual level.)

They have once said with unexpected uncertainty:

It's everywhere, if you stop to pay attention to it.

Reisz' thrill-seeking might be defined as death-seeking by some. That's a fair take.

They have no actual interest in dying – not yet, not when they can still feel alive with simple pleasures, not when feeling their own pulse is enough – but they wouldn't mind if they died as long as the event was worth it. If they are to die, they don't want to be a tree falling silently in a forest. They want it to be meaningful. If not for others, at least to themself: a fun death. An adrenaline-fueled death. A death mid-laughter. A death like an exhausted child finally falling asleep.

What are your character's thoughts on permanent death?

The funny bit is that they don't quite know about the Far-Shore. I don't remember a single explicit explanation about it in-game, so according to my own rules, it's as if they don't fully know! (Kinda have to suspend my disbelief here because of the entire Dilmun Club, but I blame TBI-induced memory loss issues for these bits. They are aware it's a place but not what it means. It's more as if it were an euphemism for them, or another word for the concept of afterlife.)

I think they'd be a lot less nonchalant about death if they were fully aware it's less "eternal unconscious rest" and more "eternal conscious suffering" down here in the Neath. Might experience a twinge of guilt (!) over the ones they've permakilled, even. But as it is they don't feel anything. It barely registers. Sometimes they mistakenly assume to be doing others a favour.

Has your character died before?

They have seen the Boatman three times, so far. Coincidentally (fate, mayhaps) each one had them engulfed by crushing all-encompassing darkness:

⚠️ [ SPOILERS for early LF (coffin) & vaguely alluded evolution below ]

THE FIRST:

here is a blurb I wrote on that very day waiting for my actions to recharge, and an equally old doodle:

They had recently gotten A Bringer Of Death from early Dangerous MYN and were still processing how easy it was to take another life. For no reason other than being asked to. They were also rescuing a lady they didn't care about just because they were asked to. None of these things haunted them. Isn't that strange? Wrong? Doesn't that mean there's something wrong with them?

Does it matter?

They heard death wasn't permanent on the Neath, but it's not like they had seen it (again, this was veeeery early on my account). It's not like they were hoping to come back. They just found it really funny. Something about being in a coffin, being down on the earth-- it was really, really, really funny. The laughter rose from their bones.

THE VELVET-LINED BOX.

They woke up, went kinda insane about it and brutally smashed their skull right away. The entire thing lasted like. 10 minutes total. Maybe 11 or 13.

its kind of a mechanic plot hole, so my HC is that the Boatman personally transported them out of the coffin because he knew Reisz had a major role to play in Evolution & he wouldn't let them stay stuck in a death loop under the earth forever. also got another post gushing about the vivisepulture here :3c

THE SECOND:

I won't go into detail, but if yk ik. Very reminiscent. A surprisingly traumatic experience considering the perceived time they spent sinking? Also very dubious if it counts as a real death or if they reached that place by being plucked by the Boatman again. Either way I count it as a death. It sure felt like one.

THE DIVING BELL.

Regardless, Death is a companion.

THE THIRD:

my (player) first and Only oopsie D: with major repercussions :D

This is already long enough so imma link the post here. TL;DR they got betrayed by their own crew and ended up chomped, brought to the Pillared Sea's zee-depths while being torn to pieces in the process; and then somehow returned perfectly healthy, healed and in one piece on their own bed back in London.

A LACERATING PREDATOR.

Not only had the Boatman plucked them up again, but this time so did the Fathomking beforehand.

Reisz was deeply disturbed by the whole event, infected by a sense of wrongness they couldn't explain. Shouldn't this have been a permadeath? Surely it must have been. Did they have special treatment, for some reason? Three times is a pattern.

Either way, they don't look back, so they've been successfully ignoring all the uncomfortable questions this brought up. (They haven't quite dared zailing back around these waters ever since, though.)

I thoroughly avoid menace areas so if I don't do another oopsie their fourth death shall be another scripted one... 👁 👁 waiting

#14

What is your character's relationship to death? Are they afraid of it? Intrigued? Unbothered? Has your character died before? What are your character's thoughts on permanent death?

[traffys-heart]

one piece men + making out hcs | nswf-ish

while i work on the match-ups have some more hcs abt our fav boys. btw how do u guys feel abt repeating characters? i was really trying to avoid doubling up matches but w over 50 of u unless marine fodder #78 wants to get some i think i might have use some ppl twice. apologies for the inadequacies o(TヘTo)

characters: monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji, portgas d. ace, sabo, eustass kid, killer, trafalgar d. law

cw: lowercase, gn! reader, alludes to sex, boners, biting, virgin! loser! law

monkey d. luffy

luffy is really enthusiastic when the two of u make out. he doesn't mind if there are other ppl around and would always try to seek u out during parties. something abt the afterglow of a battle + being around his favorite ppl just fires him up to wrap u up in his rubbery arms and kiss away ur surprised gasps. luffy usually tastes like meat, sweet barbecue sauce, and a hint of whatever tropical drink he was guzzling down prior.

his stretchy abilities easily allow him to feel closer than u then a normal body could. coiling his arm around ur waist multiple times like a statement belt only to pull u impossibly closer so he can shove his tongue deeper down ur throat makes his head kinda light and eyelids heavy. occasionally u explore his mouth too, but he always cheats and stretches his tongue forcing himself to take control.

bonus: he has definitely gotten carried away before and gotten you two actually tongue tied. in his own passion of open kisses he found u struggling to pull away, panicked and wide-eyed as you pointed to the apparent knot between ur tongues.

roronoa zoro

zoro is a messy lover. when he gets his calloused hands on u he makes sure to hold ur face as gently as he knows how. his lips are soft and he tastes strongly of sake and variations of cheaper booze. u could get drunk off his mouth from feeling and lingering alcohol together. his hands never stop cradling ur face, he enjoys the soft moment of intimacy throughout so much violence in his life.

while he handles u with care, his tongue could be fighting u like a marine. similar to his captain, he much would rather push himself into ur mouth than have u take the lead. he also enjoys having u in his lap, while he rocks u back n forth. the motions of u rubbing his strong arms and chest while he loses himself in ur lips may lead to something else up in the crow's nest.

vinesmoke sanji

sanji prides himself on being a gentleman and yet all of his manners fly out the window when u push ur tongue into his mouth. his facial hair tickles ur face and sends tingles to the rest of ur body while his hands struggle on deciding whether to rest on ur waist or face. he tastes like mint, as his hygiene is impeccable, and pre-timeskip his upper lip may or may not have tasted like shaving cream.

the blond would gladly let u guide him through the motions as move ur tongues together. he would never brute force himself between ur lips and adores how sweetly u place chaste kisses on the corners of his mouth before u reach him. he would love to keep u as close as possible, however even after a few minutes of making out ur chef is going to need to sort out the growing tent in his pants.

portgas d. ace

i think ace was shy at first and allowed u to take the reins due to his lack of experience. not only would the makeout sesh be hot (haha) but sloppy too. strings of saliva would fall from both ur lips as u pant for air and ace runs a hand through his messy hair. blown out pupils stare at ur mouth expectantly like a patient puppy waiting to be told he can have his treat.

in terms of taste he probably just tastes like his last meal and charred bits of food. ace is going to be insatiable once u get him hooked on the feeling on ur tongues intertwining and mouths moving against each other in ways that send sparks down his spine and into his shorts. I doubt he would mention his erection, but it's not like u can't exactly tell.

sabo

ugh. sabo is a yapper and unfortunately not even making out can get him to shut up. hot open mouthed kisses pressed against his stupidly perfect lips would only lead to a cheeky smile and commentary on his luck. sabo tastes like English breakfast tea, and while his appetite is almost as crazy as his brothers he often cleanses his palate with the hot beverage. while his arms circle ur waist he makes sure to strip himself of his leather gloves if he hasn't already, wanting to feel ur skin on his own.

u should be careful not to rile him up too much or he might burn ur tongue. he hasn't had his devil fruit for long and deep emotion can easily set him off. sabo enjoys making out best when ur on top of him while he's lying down. during leisure moments in the Revolutionary army he wants nothing more than to spend his days lazily sliding his tongue against urs and trying to memorize the cavern of ur mouth.

eustass kid

kid is the type to pat his lap while he spreads his legs and gesture for u to come sit. and I would absolutely fall for it every single time. despite placing u on his knee the guy is 6'8 so i doubt ur gonna be taller than him. small kisses on his lipstick clad lips only act to annoy him because u both know what he really wants from ur mouth. when he finally gets bored of ur games he decides to bite ur lip and use ur surprise to bring ur open mouth to his own.

he has a lovely tongue piercing that sends a contrast of cold metallic steel whenever he runs it across ur own. sometimes he'll take his goggles off and let his bangs fall in front of face, tickling ur forehead in the process. while he is a rough lover, this is one of the view times where he lets his guard down and indulges himself in another. if u weren't wearing any lipstick beforehand he'll make sure u are by the end of this.

killer

n/a: killer wears a mask so u can't make out :(

jk I wouldn't be that mean to the 8 killer fans out there! if he does ever remove his mask and share something so personal like his own face to u, the first thing he wants to do is finally kiss u. and pirates aren't known to be the most self retraining ppl so ofc ur sweet kisses would lead into a steamy make out session with the blond. for some reason i can imagine this happening on the floor as the both of u awkwardly stumble around on ur knees until u fall into his lap.

as he gains more confidence he would move his hand behind ur head to press u closer to him. he spent so long watching ur lips grace everyone else in the crew with smiles and kisses on the cheek he can't seem to stop himself from wanting to reap all the times he should've taken u in his arms and he didn't. in terms of taste, unfortunately due to his diet full of pasta he will be tasting entirely like spaghetti.

trafalgar d. law

law has watched movies and read books where people make out but actually acting out the scene himself? entirely different playing field. he would be sitting uncomfortably on the edge of his bed as u stare up at him curiously. u've given each other quick pecks before (all that have led to wonderful wank bank material) but now it was time to get serious and fulfill a long time dream of his.

after hyping himself up for a few seconds he turns to u and u begin to crawl towards him on the bed. finally making out for law is overwhelming, erotic, and kinda sweaty. he can't stop his palms from sweating and he doesn't want to weird u out by putting his damp hands on ur body so he awkwardly keeps them by his side. he's already planning his escape to the bathroom after this encounter but it's totally worth it, esp bc the two of u r watching sora, warrior of the sea: the germs of germa after this!

[yanderenightmare]

how is our little playboy bunny navigating all her apex predator clientele, I wonder

♡ AN: from the Promptlist

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, hyrbid au, sex club, sex worker reader dystopian laws, subjugation

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: Playboy Bunny

A run-down of your usual clientele?

Your most regular visitors are wolves. They come in big packs of dozens at a time. Cops. Dirty cops. They usually book a private room so that they can be as rambunctious as they want, leaving their guns and badges out on the table just to remind you of who they are.

They like their drinks bitter, their cigars fat, their stakes rare, and usually wind up depriving you of your leotard sometime during the evening when making you sit on their blue laps, passing you around between them as if you were just another piece of meat for them to share.

They can get quite loud and heavyhanded and don’t tip very well, either. So, they’re not your favorite clients. Their fur is also rough and unkempt, and after catering to all their knots, you spend the entire night tossing and turning, trying to dispel all the cum they leave in your womb.

But you know, at least they’re straightforward.

The felines are harder to read. Dogs are dogs for the most part—except for foxes—but big cats differ greatly from one another. 

Lions mostly ignore you as they talk amongst themselves. Politicians, most of them. Congressmen, senators, and such. Their manes are always slicked back with gel, soft and smooth, all dressed in expensive suits steeped in cologne.

They keep you on their lap with a paw on your ass, sometimes squeezing your tail. They just want you to hold their drink and bring it up to their lips when they give you a bounce.

It’s honestly rare for them to do much else than ask you to fetch stuff like more ice or cigars. But sometimes one or two of them will have you join them someplace private. They’ll talk about the wife they have at home. Sharp-toothed and long-clawed and never in the mood to fuck anymore.

They volley with their praise, telling you how soft and sweet you are, such a good bunny rabbit for them, then switching it up with sneers, calling you a slutty little cotton-tail whore.

They scare you.

Jaguars and leopards are a bit different. Wallstreet brokers.

They’ll smooth-talk to you. Heavy on the compliments. Flirting with you and smiling when they make you blush or giggle nervously. They like that—selling it, making you want their touch.

Oh, and when they’ve gotten you really flushed and hooked, they’ll groom you. Using their sand-textured tongue to lap up all that sweet-smelling nervousness like you’re a desert. Kneading your soft parts like you’re their own personal stress-toy. 

But felines are great tippers, even those who don’t use you much. You think they see it as a status thing. 

Birds of prey are the same. They like to talk. Or, talk is a generous term. They’re vain creatures and will mostly ask for your opinion on their plumage and how you like their feathers—if they aren’t just the most magnificent wings you’ve ever seen in your life.

It took you a while to understand them—what type of money they were—but if the tattoos they keep on their skin are any tell, your guess is mafia.

Funny enough, they seem like one of the less dangerous types of clientele you have. They just like having fun for the most of it, always asking you to kiss their rings before they throw the dice. They’re all gambling habits and signed deals, trying to act as sophisticated as possible, even when they’ve all got freshly bloody knuckles on each visit.

But you’re a well-trained bunny, always sitting pretty and never ever asking a single stupid question that might get you in trouble.

Then there’s the hyenas, of course. They find work where they’re wanted. Candy men and loansharks, but mostly just muscle for the real mobsters.

They also come in packs and take a little too many party drugs. Always left drooling all over you, eyes blown wide and bloodshot, rutting as if they’re competing over who can do you fastest or who can do it the most times—you can’t tell—teeth bared as they sink their claws a little too deep into your flesh, almost hard enough to tear your coat and definitely enough to leave spots the boss won’t be pleased to see.

They’re bad with money and are often chased out and banned from coming again. But they have ways of earning their keep, and somehow, they’re always pardoned after a week or two and welcomed back with open arms.

And speaking of being begrudgingly welcomed. Foxes are usually considered runts—not true apex predators, but they're still allowed entry for dubious reasons.

They’re romantic, coming to the establishment in tailored suits and fresh haircuts. Yeah, they might come across as clean, but in truth, they’re scavengers who fight tooth and nail for their cut of the steak.

Blackmailers and extortionists who pawn themselves off as good-faith advisors, meanwhile running their own organization with private investigations going in every direction, always dealing in confidential information they’re not supposed to know.

They're not entirely accepted by the others but are seen for their value nonetheless, if not out of respect and fear.

A strange species, you'd say. They can play well with anyone, not just canines, making it their mission to secure a favor amongst all the big names. Silver-tongued yet sleazy all the same.

You never know what their agenda is—telling you they’ll take you away somewhere, lavish you with the lifestyle you deserve. But you know they’re just trying to get you to spill on your other clients. Surely you must have heard something interesting?

You just smile and play dumb like always—you’re just a bunny, after all, what were they expecting?

Then there are the reptiles—crocs, gators, and snakes. Lawyers, the lot of them. High-profile lawyers.

You have that in common, you suppose. All their clients are your clients, after all.

They like to boast about their winnings. Make you say, “Oh wow!” and “No way, really?”

Oh, and they love to strangle. They’re maybe the most eccentric species you serve—and the most taxing. They’ll slither their tongue in your ear, keeping their hand around your throat, feeling you kick and struggle beneath them, watching your eyes roll back as they nearly squeeze you free of life.

Somehow, they always know the exact moment to let go. And at that point, they’ve achieved their high. Paying double what they’re owed as if in shame before leaving.

Suppose some types enjoy playing with their food more than eating it.

Lastly, there’s the boss. Big Bear.

He calls himself a businessman, but he’s really just a glorified pimp.

He’s begun taking you off floor duty in favor of having you for himself. He’s always had favorites, you’re told. If you play your cards right, he might just add you to his personal harem.

You try your best to cater to him, but his grizzly cock makes your hips feel as if their dislocating each time you take him, not to mention the way he leaves you completely bedridden, feeling like the spoils of a hunt. 

But unfortunately for you, despite your incompetence, he seems to have taken a liking to you.

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[neighbourscat]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 , nicholas alexander chavez

THE LIFE-CHANGING EDIT.

𓈒  ˙ ꪆৎ   ꣹  ۫  𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . celeb!nicholas c. X non-celeb!black!fem!reader || second person ( you, yours, you’re ) + lowercase intended.

+ synopsis. when watching horror movies with your boyfriend leaves you waking throughout the night, you resort to social media to distract you from your disturbing thoughts. scrolling and scrolling, you find yourself on the steamy side of tiktok; your boyfriend the face of this new era.

+ cw. brief description of horror documentary ( no specific title ). mature language! established relationship, painfully horny reader // somnophilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cock-warming for a bit, multiple orgasms + orgasm denial, creampie.

+ nali’s notes; pure filth. wordcount :: 2.6k+

+ to be played: back to sleep, chris brown. || alternative: p power, gunna ( no drake, ver ).

THE LIFE-CHANGING EDIT.

you knew you shouldn’t have gave into your boyfriend’s request for a ‘horror movie’ night. it was the first night of october, so you figured why not ( and you regret that ). you prepared trays of snacks; anything you could find in the pantry: chocolate covered pretzels, leftover tostitos chips and spicy cheese dip — which you couldn’t eat at all, unfortunately. you couldn’t understand how your boyfriend could watch those scenes and continue to stuff his face. like the one with the human man meat-grinding another human man; breaking him down to bits and pieces in order to better dispose of him.

after the second and final movie, you told nicholas to lock up once more — your level of paranoia astronomical. there would be no recovering from those movies, especially not in the month of october — “no one is coming in here,” nicholas said for the fifth time, teasingly, crunching up the empty bag of tostitos. “you don’t know that,” you had said, peeking through the cozy throw blanket. you were sitting criss-crossed, nicholas’s pumpkin-blanket outlined around your face and body.

nicholas laughed to himself, licking at his salty fingers. you saw as he turned his back toward you and started for the kitchen to wash his hands — leaving you all alone in the living area. you tensed, scrunching your knees up to your chest and becoming a tight ball.

on any regular night — when your imagination wasn’t filled with slideshows of dismembered human bodies ( mostly children’s. you swore tv-people couldn’t show that shit on television, even if it was all makeup ) or a creature that melted people and used their gushy remains to grow in height, weight, and strength — you would have the window blinds snapped closed, leaving you and your boyfriend in pitch black darkness.

not tonight. fuck that.

after jumping into bed and diving under the blanket, you demanded your boyfriend to open the blinds — and to leave them wide open. you felt like a small girl again, needing her nightlight and closet doors firmly closed. the jackets that you and nicholas had hooked on the walls were also placed into the closet. the reason why they were out on the wall in the first place, was because there was no room in the closet. but nicholas made room — needing to shut your complaining.

you were in and out of sleep for the next four hours. twisting and turning, latching yourself onto nicholas’ arm or his torso, scrolling through instagram and tiktok; sending your close friends reels and responding to fan accounts of nicholas’ — but you straightened up a bit when an edit took over your screen.

without a second thought, without a slight consideration or hesitation — you hearted the video, added it to your favourites, saved the video to your phone, and commented an excessive amount of heart-eye emojis. and when you scrolled up . .. . you scrolled back down to rewatch the edit. you propped yourself onto an elbow, letting it play and play over and over again. and suddenly, the dark hadn’t been so scary anymore. you kept the volume down low, the lyrics of ‘p-power’ by gunna faint; as well as the moaning in the background.

you pulled your eyes from your phone screen, only for a second at the low sound of nicholas tugging the blanket up to his chest. he rolled onto his side and let out a low breath, the moonlight illuminating his features. you raked your fingers through his hair and with your other hand, you swiped over to view the profile and watched more edits of your boyfriend — finding that over thirty minutes had gone; thirty minutes of watching your boyfriend do his job ( hotly ).

nicholas turned onto his backside once again, pushing the blanket downward and away from his bare chest. his sleeping form was always . .. . too tempting not to feel a little tingling on your insides. nicholas liked sleeping with only his briefs on and no matter how normal that was, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander around; even more so after liking and saving all of those edits.

there was something about actually having him here beside you. there’s something in the way his body was ( so toned and muscular ) spread out on his side of the bed and the way his face is as calm as the waters of a lake during a summer evening, or maybe . .. . it was the little tent between his legs that his boxers revealed, that increased your body temperature.

turning off your phone, you felt bad for being turned on just by the way he looked when he was asleep . .. . perhaps it was the effect love had on you or it was just another kink or the velocity edits, you didn’t know yet, but the aching burn in your stomach didn’t stop you from cuddling up beside him.

you rested your head on his spread arm and snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. the familiar scent made you smile and, for a short moment, you thought you could stay like this. maybe this is what you needed; the warmth of his relaxed body calmed you for a while, but then . .. . your hand moved like it had a mind of its own.

you trailed your fingers along his collarbones and he hummed in his sleep, shifting a bit. he looked so . .. . so cute, you couldn’t stop yourself from travelling far south, to caress his chest and abdomen as softly as possible, trying not to wake him up. and in this very moment, you felt like the luckiest woman on the planet; touching on the man that millions were so very attracted to.

you felt every muscle of his abdomen, which made your bottom lip get trapped between your teeth, to prevent a sigh from leaving you. mindlessly, you scooched in closer — your hand needed to go further down, past his sharp v-line, but you weren’t sure. your hand itched for it. for him, but your mind wouldn’t allow it just yet.

and when the slightly lined abs flexed under your touch, you immediately checked his face, afraid that you might’ve woken him —

— but his closed eyes and steady breathing told you otherwise. so, your arm moved to his exposed thigh. his skin was warm, and as you caressed and fondled with his body, the sinful thought of taking his cock out and stroking him, made you press your thighs together. the moans that would fall from his soft lips and the way he’d buck his hips up begging for more, using your soft hand to chase and tip over the edge, only made your breathing heavier.

and the thought of his brown eyes on you as you gently kissed his fiery tip and pumped the rest of him drove you crazy, to say the least. you could picture it . .. . but you wanted to taste it even more; you wanted to feel him shiver as your mouth wrapped around him. you wanted his world to center around you, your name heavy on his tongue, viscous and filling his mouth like honey until he was drowning in a pool of ecstasy.

you wanted him to cup the sides of your head in his big hands — his fingers holding your braids together in a messy ponytail — and start thrusting himself into the slick warmth of your mouth, pathetically using your throat as his own personal fleshlight, the constant flow of his thick precum and your saliva leaking onto the bed sheets. you wanted to hear him groan deep within the pits of his chest . .. .

but you closed your eyes, restricting yourself to only imagine. your mind no longer filled with horrible images of bloody corpses, but of nicholas fucking himself up into your body over and over again — the crotch of your panties were damp and at this point, you hadn’t realized how your grip on his thigh had tightened or how the muscles rippling through his skin had stiffened.

“ . .. . get on top . ..” his sleepy voice, raspy and deep, rang in your ears and you snapped your head toward him, wide-eyed. the burn in your stomach ached even more at the sight of nicholas’ still closed eyes and messy brown hair. you pushed yourself up a bit, staring down at his face. you poked at his cheek and he rubbed his eyes with a groan. he gave his thighs a pat, at which you got the message: come, and straddled his waist without any question or trouble.

“i’m sorry . .. .” you apologized lowly, feeling guilty for being the reason he was no longer sound asleep. nicholas shook his head, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and answered quietly, “don’t be sorry, pretty.” and then, “take what you need,” nicholas said under his breath and the tone made your eyes fall heavy. “you can take me.”

you leaned in and pecked his cheek, but as you pulled away he chased after your lips with a soft pout. a slow, open-mouthed kiss was all it took for the sigh you’d been holding back to finally escape you and when it did, his grip on your hips tightened. his fingers dug and dug into your brown skin, his pulse thumping and pounding. nicholas moved you a smidge, just enough to have you sitting right over his bulge — and his legs trembled, “shhit .. .” breaking the kiss.

you found his mouth again. and as you kissed; his tongue delving between your lips, your hand slid to the grown arousal — his breath hitched as your hand brushed against his hardness through the thin fabric. and you dipped your hand passed the waistband — taking him out of the obstacle that the underwear was.

you gave a clean up and down pump of your hand and nicholas groaned lowly into your mouth. as you gave another and another, he ripped his lips away from yours and tilted his head back into the pillow, the heat and pressure of your hand too delicious. it was almost too much to bear.

his muscles tensed and his breathing became shallow and ragged. nicholas could feel the intensity and pleasure building within him with every stroke of your hand. “need’ta . .. .” he mumbled, his voice low and strained. “holy shitt-oh fuck.” nicholas bit down on his lower lip, eyelids fluttering shut. he needed to be inside of you. he needed to feel your body wrapped around him. he needed you like he needed to breathe.

and when he felt your hand no longer pumping, he opened his eyes — staring up at the ceiling. “wha-what happened?” he had asked, coming to lift up . .. . and his voice died to a scratchy whisper at the feeling of you lining him up between your pussy lips. you moved your wrist; rubbing him side to side, his tip kissing at your clit and just almost pushing into your slit, collecting your syrupy slick — shivers washed your spine.

if it wasn’t for his arms helping, you wouldn’t have started pushing down. nicholas guided your hips down and the sight of his cock disappearing within you was just as overwhelming as the feel of your ribbed walls. “oh. .. . fuckkk.” he groaned deeply, his nails digging into your flesh even harder — the tightness and warmth of you brought tears to his eyes. nicholas could barely keep himself from bucking up into you . .. . but he wanted you to set the pace. he wanted you in control.

“y-you’re squeezing,” he muttered cutely, in a breathless whisper.

you hadn’t realized how needy you were until nicholas was shifting underneath you, burying his cock to the hilt — you felt full all over. you resisted the urge to pound down on him for the sake of his still sleepy daze. your hands landed on his chest for support and you raised your hips slowly.

the wetness of your cunt was enough to slip him in and out with ease — smooth gliding and a wet little smack when you touched down — and soon, you picked the pace up, just enough to hear his deep, guttural moans. you rode him slowly, feeling his tip reach deep at this angle while he eyed you with a drowsy stare. nicholas was losing his mind, his eyes now practically rolling in the back of his head. nicholas released a sharp, low breath, staring up at you then, “you’re makin’ it so hard to keep still . ..”

“you don’t even know,” he said, gritting his teeth.

raising your hips, it took quite some effort to pull him out that far because he was so girthy. your walls were literally pulling at his cock as if you didn’t want to let him go. which you didn’t. you did it slowly, terribly slow, every millimetre had your pussy lips tracing another facet of him.

a breathy moan fell from your lips, which made nicholas force you faster down on him and you clenched, instantly. “let me do it . .. .” he pleaded — the wet, squelchy sounds that came from where your body met his, was quiet enough to indicate lazy, early morning sex between lovers, and the rhythm was not a particularly quick one, but one to make the burn in your stomach feel like it’ll soon be on fire.

“let me, baby.” as you were about to give attention to your clit, nicholas planted his feet into the mattress and snapped his hips up, hitting your g-stop instantly. a muffled cry filled the room and the sudden lack of energy made you fall over him. nicholas snaked both arms around your waist and pulled you in closer, holding you firmly against his chest. “nngh-! just like that!” you whined.

your body worked with his, chasing after release.

"f-fuck-nic, please.. ." your jaw clenched so hard, you thought you were moments away from breaking your teeth.

he wanted to kiss you so badly, but the position was too good and he loved seeing the way your lips formed a small ‘O’ with every few thrusts. “baby . .. . shit, i need you’ta cum.” it was his way of hinting that he was struggling and he hoped you would understand it. “want’cha’ta look at me when you cum .. . okay?”

you gave him an eager nod, holding onto his forearms; you felt his arms flex and strain with how fast he was ramming into you. you wanted to hold it in until he came with you, but nicholas got the pump just right — your breaths were short — and you were having trouble keeping your eyes on his. it didn’t take too much longer to have you thrashing and shivering and cunning so hard. he doesn’t stop then.

his heavy breaths got mixed with curses at the feeling of your walls clenching continuously. nicholas continued to move his cock in and out of you, digging and scratching deep — hitting the spots that he knows only his tip can touch. “cum again . .. .”

“need’a feel it again.” the moonlight and his sweat made him shine, highlighting the sharpness to his jaw, the tension in his arms as he lifted you up by an inch; a slight new angle. wet skin slapping was all that could overshadow your moans and pleas. but he could hear you; loud and clear. his attention was all on you.

you might have tried to say something but your incoherent mumbles weren't meant for him to understand. because of his desperate need to keep you tethered as him, he still does not stop. you're howling, and curling into him, and cunt frothing with an orgasm lost into the next.

“s-shhit, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbled, heaving a breathless sigh. nicholas slowed his hips then; your pussy clenched so hard, so tight, that he could barely move. your clit screamed with the beating and thudding of your heart, loud in your ears and blocking the harsh cries and breathy gasps tearing from your throat.

stifled cries tickled nicholas’ neck, one hand holding your head, you trembled with your nails clawing in his shoulders for strength. he jerked up and gripped your ass tightly, but instead of forcing you to your limits till he came in you, he stilled himself — just sitting inside of you like this burned . .. . so good. nicholas had never felt so close to you, so intimately connected. he could lose himself in you forever.

nicholas was right there, quiet moans escaping him as more time passed. but it was evident that he was still holding out — you could feel his cock twitching. your hands cupped his cheeks, your fingers gently scratching the back of his ears. “why are you torturin’ yourself? hmm?” you asked softly, resting your forehead against his.

he came harder when he denied himself. “th’ build up.” it came out quiet and short and he knew if he stayed like this that he wouldn’t last much longer. “cum, baby . .. .” you pleaded, “please .. .” you squeezed him in just the right way that his chest was rising and falling rapidly. and then he couldn’t hold it in anymore — he was where he wanted to be.

“holy fuck-i’m gonna cum.” his voice was desperate.

the plastic band holding him back from his orgasm snapped as he thrusted particularly deep, and he arched his back off of the bed — letting him reach just a little deeper, just enough to send him over the edge again, more curses spilled from his lips. white filled his vision, red hot pleasure searing his body from head to toe, and you kissed him through it.

you knew you could fall asleep now.

[yummycastiel]

yes, chef! - ryomen sukuna

pairing: reader x modern!Sukuna, f!reader x Sukuna, chef!reader x chef!Sukuna

synopsis: you get hired for an unpaid internship position at three michelin-star restaurant owned by none other than world-renowned chef, Ryomen Sukuna. you're obviously attracted to him, so now you gotta juggle that and also try to survive through your first three weeks.

content/warnings: MDNI, enemies (?) to lovers, pining, mutual pining, workplace romance, power dynamic, implied age-gap sorta, Sukuna is an asshole, swearing, workplace harassment, light smut, heavy petting, kissing, arguing, use of she, no use of y/n

word count: ~8.3k

~ ~ ~

Malevolent Shrine. That was the name of the three-Michelin star restaurant you found yourself standing outside of, neck craned back, stomach feeling queasy as you gripped onto your bag tightly. At first glance, the name was kind of off-putting, a little too sinister for such a popular spot, but it was indeed very popular, one of the best restaurants in the country with a waiting list of three months. 

You opened the double doors, and stepped inside, putting one shaky foot in front of the other. It had a dark industrial interior, blackened steel, furniture made of charred wood, with crimson accent lighting lining the walls. The decor consisted of repurposed butcher hooks hung up high, art pieces of twisted cuts of meat and old-school butcher diagrams. Dark blues rock played softly in the background, adding to the dusky ambience. You’d never seen a restaurant quite like this before, used to all the fancy, fine-dining spots you frequented in culinary school when you were doing research. This was why you wanted to be here, to stand out, to do something different. 

You waited at the front of house, feet shuffling nervously as employees bustled around, preparing for service, laying down napkins, polishing cutlery. All the workers fit the vibe of the place perfectly, wearing black aprons with blood-red stitching and sporting heavy combat boots. Each one of them sported piercings, tattoos of some sort, or dyed hair. You swallowed thickly as you toyed with your own piercings, inwardly hoping they’d be enough to fit in the crowd. 

Someone finally noticed you, a rather important looking individual, no doubt the restaurant manager. You recognized them from your interview for the unpaid internship position a while ago, but they seemed to not recall. They had milky-white skin to match their white hair cut into a bob, a splash of dyed red hair on the back. They hurried you over with a flick of their finger. 

‘’New cook right?’’ They said, eyeing you up and down with a hint of disdain. You nodded quickly as you introduced yourself. ‘’Uraume. General manager.’’ They replied, introducing themselves again, ‘’You’re early.’’ 

‘’My mom always said, being on time means you’re late!’’ You chirped without thinking, and you immediately wanted to slap yourself as Uraume arched an elegant brow. Awesome, embarrass yourself, why don’t you?

‘’Choso, our floor manager, will give you a quick tour, show you everything you need to know. Service is in five hours.’’ Uraume stated, ignoring your little quip. ‘’Sukuna will be around for the staff meeting, you can meet him then.’’ 

Ryomen Sukuna. The executive chef and owner of Malevolent Shrine. A world-renowned chef for his talents with bold and dark flavours, having won his first Michelin star the same year he opened this restaurant. He had been in the top ten best restaurants twice, in the top fifty nearly every year for ten years, named Best Chef four times by Restaurant Magazine, and a dozen other accolades won internationally. He was an artist. A god amongst chefs and restaurateurs alike, and you’d be lying if you hadn't almost pissed your pants when you got accepted as a cook after a grueling, multiple-interview process. He was the man you wanted to meet.  

You nodded at Uraume, and turned to see the man who was no doubt Choso making his way over. He had dark, spiky black hair tied up in two buns, a tattoo across his nose, and dark-eyebags. He looked exhausted, but he was giving Uraume his rapt attention as they introduced you to him. 

‘’Nice to meet you.’’ Choso said in a low, calm voice as the two of you shook hands, ‘’Let me give you a tour, yeah?’’ You followed him, trying to absorb as much information as you could as Choso drifted around the restaurant. 

‘’I’m sure you know our concept already,’’ Choso was saying, ‘’This is the front of house.’’ You just kept nodding as you took in your surroundings. Tables with no white tablecloths, just wood and iron tables stained dark from years of meat and fire, open kitchen concept with visible flame-grilling and meat cleavers for diners to enjoy. It was intimidating to say the least, but you couldn’t ignore the spark of excitement thrumming in your veins. 

‘’This is our maitre d’, Jogo.’’ Choso introduced quickly, pointing to a short man with brown hair and one eye, the other covered by a patch. You waved, and Choso swept on, taking you into the back of house. The kitchen was cold, clean, silver steel, and other cooks were already at work, busy prepping for service. Choso took you to each station, introducing you to each cook, showing you where the walk-in was, the pantry, the bar, and pretty much everything that was to be known about the restaurant. You wished you had a notepad, a dozen names and places swirling around in your head. 

Choso eventually got to the end of the tour, ending off with introducing you to the Sous-Chef, Sukuna’s second in command and half-brother, Jin Itadori. He gave you a kind smile as you told him your name. He was tall, with pink hair and gentle eyes, a stark contrast to his brother who you’d only seen in magazines, newspapers, and on the internet. Jin gave you a more in-depth run-down of the kitchen and stations, and you listened with rapt attention. If there was one thing you weren’t going to do, it was fail. Not here. 

‘’Tonight, you’ll be stagiaire, chef.’’ Jin explained. Bottom of the brigade hierarchy, where intern-chefs often started, with everything to prove and everything to lose, on trial to see if they’d eventually get hired. ‘’You’ll be assisting Hanami, our grillardin.’’ Hanami was a tall, stern-looking woman, with ivy-tattoos snaking up her long arms. Assisting the grillardin on your first night at Malevolent Shrine almost made your heart sink. Grilled items were Hanami’s job, and in a restaurant like this, a carnivore’s haven, it would be argued to be one that would put the most pressure on your shoulders. You squared your shoulders as Hanami gave you instructions. You could do this, you could do this. 

‘’I’m surprised Uraume picked you.’’ Hanami said suddenly as the two of you worked together, making your cheeks flush. There was no malice in her tone, just a calm observation. ‘’I don’t doubt your qualifications were sufficient, chef, but they typically choose the best of the best, who also fit with the concept of the restaurant.’’ You chewed the inside of your cheek. You knew you probably stuck out like a sore thumb, but you’d be damned if you let that hold you back. You were talented, you knew it, even though every restaurant like this was a proving ground, you were ready to work your ass off to show you belonged here. 

‘’Guess Uraume had some slim pickings, chef.’’ You joked nervously as you sharpened your knife. Hanami didn’t smile. 

‘’No such thing in this place.’’ Hanami said simply, ‘’Don’t be nervous, or pretend you’re not. Any sign of weakness and you’ll get killed in this place, chef.’’ You knew Hanami spoke figuratively (hopefully), but it didn't stop the shiver running up your spine. 

You continued working, doing a decent job of keeping up with Hanami. She was quiet, and spoke in a monotone-bored voice no matter what was happening, but she guided you along the way, showing you the ropes of her station. You appreciated it, thankful to whatever higher power was out there that you hadn’t been shoved with the typical asshole chefs that were abundant in the restaurant industry. 

As the time ticked closer to service, you met the other chefs du partie. Mahito, the blue-haired saucier with scars all over his body. Dagon, the garde manger, Toji Fushiguro, another grillardin, and Suguru Geto, the poissonier. All experts in the kitchen, all well-known in the culinary world. The best of the best, and somehow you’d found yourself among them. Other line cooks milled about, taking a seat next to you as the entirety of the restaurant staff sat in the front of house, the meeting starting soon. Uraume was talking in a low voice to Choso, and Jin was busy talking on the phone frantically. You played with your fingers as you looked around, tugging at your chefs coat as you felt the nerves start to set in within you. 

The room went silent when a hulking figure stepped through the front door. Ryomen Sukuna. When he walked into the room, he commanded it, and you were a bit surprised that people weren’t falling to their knees to worship him. He was tall, impossibly tall, taller than Jin, with black tattoos coiled around his muscled forearms and lining his wickedly handsome face. One deep, crimson-red eye surveyed his staff, like he was looking down on some ants, the other side of his face scarred from a cruel burn he’d gotten in a kitchen accident many years ago. His lips twisted into a scowl as he stood in front of everyone. 

All you could do was gape at him, and you had to check to make sure your jaw hadn't dropped to the floor. Sukuna, in the flesh, and startlingly more sexy than you had anticipated. God, the idea of making a fool of yourself in front of him made you want to throw up. Uraume startled you out of your thoughts as they began the meeting. 

‘’Okay, so we got several VIPs dining with us tonight-’’ They began, rattling off the names of celebrities and actors that made your eyes widen in shock, ‘’Unfortunately Satoru Gojo made a reservation too, so it’s very important that everything is perfect for that little twat.’’ You blinked. Satoru Gojo? He was a new, up-and-coming chef, close to winning his first Michelin star at his own restaurant to which he worked as the Executive Chef, the Six Eyes. People saw him as Sukuna’s biggest competition. 

Sukuna growled, a deep sound in his chest. ‘’Who let that asshole make a reservation?’’ He asked. His voice was a rasp, heavy and grating. You wanted to hear it again. Jin gave his brother an apologetic glance. 

‘’You crashed his restaurant without even bothering to make a reso, you know.’’ He said, his jovial tone the complete opposite of Sukuna’s. Sukuna just rolled his good eye and crossed his arms, muttering something below his breath. Your gaze followed his every movement, his every breath, as if you could absorb some of his greatness just by being in his orbit. 

Uraume kept going; ‘’On the menu tonight, servers listen up, bone-in tomahawk rib-eyes, charred leg of lamb, pork shoulder, and whole-smoked quail, if you have any questions, ask Jin, not Sukuna.’’ Sukuna seemed uninterested in the meeting, thoughts clearly elsewhere, and as soon as Uraume was done, everything covered, everything perfect, he turned and shouldered his way into the back of house. 

Service started in thirty minutes, and as you diligently prepared Hanami’s station, you felt a hand land on your shoulder. You turned to see Jin, smiling down at you, and only a couple paces away, Sukuna. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, mouth going dry as you glanced between the two brothers. 

‘’This is our new chef, Ryomen.’’ Jin said, saying your name, ‘’I’m sure you know my brother?’’ 

Your entire life and culinary career flashed before your eyes. You wanted to make a good impression, no, you needed to make a good impression. This was it, this was your chance to show Sukuna that you belonged here, that you were the right pick for the job. 

Obviously, as you lifted your hand to shake Sukuna’s, you fumbled with your knife, and it clattered to the ground. Your face burned as you scrambled to get it. Idiot, idiot, idiot! You leaned up, biting your lip as Sukuna shook your hand, his rough hands making your heart beat faster. He regarded you with an unimpressed look, a hint of disgust. Okay, ouch. 

‘’Sorry, uh-’’ You mumbled, letting your hand drop to your side, ‘’I’ll clean that, um, it’s such an honor to meet you chef. A huge honor. It’s an honor for me to be here, a real privilege-’’ 

‘’Her? Uraume picked her for the internship?’’ Sukuna’s voice cut through your babble, and you felt your blood run cold. You felt small, tiny, the size of a gnat as Sukuna looked down at you. Was it over? Was Sukuna going to crush your dreams of getting hired here at this very moment?

‘’Come on, Ryomen,’’ Jin tried to smooth out, ‘’It’s her first day, and you know Uraume doesn’t pick people who aren’t qualified to be here.’’ You wanted to throw yourself at Jin’s feet for standing up for you, but all you could do was chew on your lip, holding back tears of embarrassment. No weakness, not in front of him, or ever. You’d long been told you were too sensitive for this world of chefs, and for the most part they were right, but you’d proved them wrong, you’d proved every mentor and classmate wrong. However now, standing under Sukuna’s judgement, you felt the cracks start to show. Get it fucking together, you told yourself. 

Sukuna just grunted, giving you one last once-over before he turned and stalked to his office. Jin turned to you, patting your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. 

‘’Don’t take it personally. Ryomen is like that with all the new chefs, you should’ve seen Dagon on his first day.’’ Jin said, laughing, even though you found none of it very funny, ‘’You held it together pretty well, kid. Just tough tonight out and Sukuna will come to…tolerate you. He tolerates us all.’’ And with that, Jin sauntered off. You stood there alone, too scared to wipe the misty-tears in your eyes. You took a deep breath in, then out, calming your heart as best you could. If you were going to survive in this place, you were going to have to put your tough-guy face on, even though you weren’t sure if it felt like you at all. 

~ ~ ~ 

Service at Malevolent Shrine could only be described as organized chaos. The kitchen was alive with shouting, cursing, prickly jabs, flailing arms, but the food was getting pushed out fast. Everything was cooked to perfection, under the watchful eye of Sukuna. All the chefs moved like a machine, Jin running the expo like he was born doing it, calling for hands, the servers filing in and out of the kitchen. 

You kept your mouth shut, head down and hyper-focused on your station, following Hanami’s every order, reading her movements and learning as much as you could. Your attention was often ripped away, eyes flickering over to Mahito, who shot condescending insults in your direction at every hesitation in your hand. You took the verbal abuse with a yes chef and a no, I’m not going to fuck up chef, and you kept your head in the game. Once you were in the zone, you were in the zone. 

Sukuna barely spared you a glance, thundering commands and inspecting every dish. You weren’t sure what you expected, definitely not Sukuna showering you with encouraging praise, but it would have been nice if he at least gave you a nod, something. You tried to count your blessings that he wasn't yelling at you or breathing down your neck with that dark-red, judgmental gaze. 

Then, everything came crashing down around you, literally. 

You didn’t know Mahito was behind you. He didn’t warn you, he didn’t say the obligatory behind! So when you took a step back, Hanami’s plated and ready tomahawk rib-eye’s in your hands, you only felt Mahito’s foot behind yours at the last second. You stumbled back with a yelp, dropping the plate, and it crashed to the floor with a terrific crack as the food went everywhere. You landed on your behind, the air knocked out of you, and Mahito let out a shrill cackle. Embarrassment flooded through you, hot and sick, your face flushing red as you scrambled to your feet. You were sure your heart was about to fall out of your sore ass as you mumbled out trembling apologies, your throat starting to close up. A gaggle of servers leapt in to help clean, practiced movements as they quickly and methodically gathered up the plate and the ruined food. 

‘’I’m sorry chef,’’ You rasped out to Hanami, who was already re-firing a new rib-eye. You wanted the floor to open up underneath you and swallow you whole. Every eye in the kitchen was on you, the fucking intern who’d messed up, who didn’t belong. You could almost hear their whispers. 

‘’The hell are you doing?’’ Sukuna snarled from the front of the kitchen. He was leaning over the table, knuckles white as he shot you a terrifying glare. ‘’Get back on the line. If you drop one more thing, you’re done.’’ You nodded enthusiastically, trembling hands grabbing your knife as you tried to focus again. You saw Mahito out of the corner of your eye, slinking back to his station. You knew he was an asshole, but sabotage? He’d tripped you, just to torture you, putting the whole kitchen back by a full minute. You risked a glance at Sukuna, who was still glaring daggers into you. 

You knew Sukuna saw everything. Anything that happened in his kitchen, he knew about, so how come he wasn't yelling at Mahito too? That prick had ruined the flow, not only yours, but everyone’s. This has to be some sick joke, an elaborate plan to get you to run out of the restaurant with your tail between your legs. You choked back a sneer as you avoided Mahito’s gaze. Whatever. You knew every kitchen had a guy like him, you could take it. You’d just cry about it later. 

Service finally finished, and you were completely spent. You had managed to keep it together for the most part, not dropping any more plates, but your performance wasn't exactly stellar. Sukuna had only yelled at you a couple times, pointing out your sloppy work, your slow hands. You sighed deeply, from your chest, as you closed the bathroom door behind you. You trudged to the lockers, sore fingers undoing your chef’s coat. Frustration followed you like a cloud. Your first day hadn’t gone at all like you wanted, your job even harder to do with Mahito looming over your shoulder with his sharp tongue. Momentary doubt flickered in your mind. Hanami hadn’t gotten upset with you, but you worried that she was already thinking you didn’t deserve to be here. Negative thoughts ran through your mind, and you found it hard to ground yourself in reality, when suddenly you heard voices around the corner. You froze, keeping out of sight as you heard Mahito’s voice.

‘’I’ll give it two days for the fresh meat to start bawling and just quit.’’ He snickered. You clenched your jaw. You knew he was talking about you. Toji and Jogo’s chuckles echoed in the hall.

‘’Did you see her face? Goddamn pathetic.’’ Toji taunted, and you weren't even there to taunt.

‘’Don’t know what Uraume was thinking when they picked her. She’s never gonna make it.’’ 

That was the last straw on the camel's back. 

You tried not to run, your legs taking you out the back door, leaving your belongings behind. Leaning against the cold, brick wall of the building, you let yourself fall apart. Breaths came out in choked, tiny gasps, hot tears running down your face. You wrapped your arms around your trembling shoulders, trying to give yourself some comfort as you cried. 

‘’Fucking glad you didn’t cry in there.’’ A growl came from the shadows. You yelped in shock, stumbling back and hitting your head against the wall. The dim light of a cigarette lit up Sukuna’s scarred face, shadows painting a sinister look in his eyes. Just what you fucking needed. Ryomen Sukuna getting a front-row seat to you cry like a damn child. 

‘’Chef.’’ You gasped, wiping at your watery eyes. ‘’I didn’t see you there, I’m sorry.’’ 

Sukuna looked at you, his usual arrogant gaze gone. He looked bored, but that was better than looking angry. 

‘’Mahito giving you a hard time?’’ He asked, smoke billowing from his mouth like a fire-breathing dragon. You considered your options before responding. In any normal workplace situation, you might say yes, tell your boss about how Mahito purposely tripped you, that it wasn't your fault that the kitchen was set back, it was his. Dissolve yourself of blame. But this wasn't your typical workplace.

‘’No chef.’’ Was all you said as you met his gaze. You weren’t about to go crying to Sukuna about some bully. Not today, or ever. Sukuna tilted his head up, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his boot. He stepped forward, into the light of the street lamp. 

‘’You need to toughen up.’’ Sukuna told you, crossing his beefy arms in front of his chest. ‘’Or you’ll never make it.’’ Irritation flared up in you at his words and you bit back a sharp retort. You’d gone past the point of angry tears and were just plain pissed. 

You just laughed softly, putting your hands on your hips. ‘’I think I toughed it out pretty well in there, chef.’’ You replied. You weren’t one to yell, not one to scream out insults or fight back with a sharp tongue. You didn’t need to, because it didn’t feel like you, and because you proved you were better, every single time. Sukuna’s eyes flickered over your face, analyzing you, as if he had expected you to lash out at him. 

‘’You can back out now if you want.’’ He drawled, ‘’So what if you don’t fit here? You’ll fit somewhere else.’’ There it was, that condescension and arrogant tone that seemed to be automatic for him. Already counting you out. Sukuna took a step closer to you, looking down at you from his full height. It irked you a bit, how hot he was. Not only was he a prick, but he was a hot prick, and if you were someone else, and he was anyone else, you wouldn't hesitate to jump his bones. 

But that wasn’t you. 

‘’All due respect chef,’’ You began, squaring your shoulders, ‘’It’s been one day. I’m gonna keep going, and deal with it how I deal with it.’’ You smiled at Sukuna, hoping you could pass it off like you had your shit together. Sukuna stared at you for a moment, eyes narrowing, then he clenched his jaw. Something that looked like annoyance flashed over his face. 

‘’Don’t think a girl like you knows what she’s getting yourself into.’’ Sukuna muttered. You didn’t bother asking him what he meant by that, you didn't want to know. 

‘’Doesn't matter, because I’m gonna find out, chef.’’ You replied easily. 

‘’We’ll see about that.’’ He said in a low, rough voice. Sukuna took a step closer to you, towering far above you. He smelled like smoke and fire, heat rolling off him in waves and you felt your skin tingle at how close he was. His eyes burned into yours, practically breathing the same air. ‘’Have a good night, chef.’’ The last word rolled off his tongue, almost teasing, and he moved past you, brushing against your shoulder as he left you standing there. 

~ ~ ~

Your first week at Sukuna’s restaurant passed both quickly and agonizingly slow. You survived through every service, a couple fuck-ups here and there, but you were learning. Your skills had improved, not that you heard it from Sukuna, but a couple encouraging words from Jin and Hanami were enough to get you through the day. The most you got from the pink-haired executive chef was a nod, the occasional approving grunt, but they made you beam with pride all the same. 

Mahito continued to be a major pain in the ass, doing everything he could to trip you up, to catch you off guard. The blue-haired chef didn’t let up on the insults and barbed comments, but you took it on the chin with a silent glare or a heard, chef. There wasn’t much else you could do about it. Sure, you could yell back, maybe give him a taste of his own medicine, but you were too busy trying to keep afloat you definitely couldn't manage that. You avoided most confrontation, so enduring Mahito’s endless torture was just something you had to suck up. 

You knew Sukuna noticed. His crimson eyes would flit between you and Mahito, face as impassive as ever or with a hint of entertainment in his cocky grin, like he was watching a pair of chihuahuas go at it. Honestly, you were just happy that it wasn't Sukuna himself making your life a living hell. You saved your tears of frustration for the privacy of your walk to the bus stop at the end of the night, pulling yourself back together on your own with a tub of ice cream or a greasy take-out meal. 

Other than that, you were starting to slightly settle into the environment of Malevolent Shrine. Hanami gave you a thumbs-up once, and Choso would sneak you some of the bar’s curated whiskey you’d been eyeing. Even Toji started to tolerate you, clapping you on the back with a huge hand, saying that you weren’t as terrible as he thought. Yeah, you were pretty damn proud of yourself. 

It was Monday night, service finally over with, and mostly all the staff had left, leaving you alone in your rumpled and stained chef’s coat hunched over your notebook you carried with you everywhere in case inspiration struck. You’d been drawing food since you were young, both imagined and actual plates you’d made in high school and in culinary school. If you saw something that got the cogs in your mind turning, you whipped out your notebook, pencil at the ready as you sketched out your idea. You went in with colored pencils after, in the hopes of one day making them into reality. You mostly kept the drawings to yourself, your own little creations that you spent hours pouring over. 

While you leaned over your drawing on the silver service table, you heard heavy footsteps approaching you, and looking up, you almost snapped your pencil in two as Sukuna gave you a strange look. He was in his crisp, white chef’s coat, unbuttoned to reveal a toned chest covered by a black wife-pleaser. You chewed the inside of your lip. Did he really have to look so damn good all of the time? Your stomach tightened as you tried to find words that wouldn’t embarrass you. 

‘’Hey chef-’’ You began, but Sukuna raised a tattooed hand, silencing you. 

‘’What are you doing?’’ He rumbled, his voice deep in his chest. 

‘’Oh, uh, nothing-’’ You stammered, putting down your pencil, ‘’Sorry, am I not allowed to be here?’’ Sukuna ignored your question as he made his way over to stand behind you, looming over your shoulder, his manly smell wafting into your nose and making your heart constrict. Your hand went to cover your drawing automatically, without thinking, and Sukuna reached down, hand pushing yours to the side so he could see. 

‘’You drew this.’’ He said, not so much a question but a statement. You tried to ignore how your skin burned where he had touched you. Shifting nervously in your seat, you nodded. 

‘’Yes, chef.’’ You said softly, a little embarrassed, ‘’I hope it’s okay…it’s just I felt a little inspired and I like to draw out my ideas, you know?’’ Sukuna leaned against the table, still very close, and he took your notebook from your grasp without even asking. You bit your lip, panic rising in you, not because they were private, but because they were all your work, your ideas, and now one of the best chefs in the world was flipping through them. This was definitely a nightmare scenario for you. You could see it now, Sukuna would scoff, toss your notebook on the floor, snap at you and tell you they were garbage and that you should never touch a pencil or a pot again. Your heart raced in your chest, closing your eyes, waiting for the hammer to drop. 

‘’They’re beautiful.’’ Sukuna rasped, and you whipped your gaze up to stare at him, mouth opening in shock. He was turning the pages with care, care you didn’t think he possessed in those huge mitts of his. Sukuna almost seemed frustrated with you, or himself, you couldn’t tell, but still…

He said your drawings were beautiful. Your heart soared, up into the sky, into the clouds as a beaming smile grew on your face. 

‘’You think so?’’ You breathed, then you blinked, ‘’Uh, I mean, thank you chef.’’ Sukuna’s eyes shifted to your face, expression still unreadable. He set your notebook down, fingers tracing over your newest creation. 

‘’Yeah, a bit dainty for my taste but, they look good.’’ He said grudgingly, ‘’There’s some decent ideas in there.’’ Good. Decent. Sukuna gave you crumbs but you gathered them up like gold nuggets. This was the most praise you’d received from him since, well, ever. 

‘’Thank you chef, I really appreciate it!’’ You couldn't help but grin up at him, ‘’See this one? I thought of it tonight during service, so I had to draw it out as soon as possible. I know we don’t do a lot of desserts, but I was thinking of something like this-’’ You pointed at your drawing you’d been working on, ‘’Smoked chocolate torte and-’’

‘’Bourbon-blood orange bread pudding.’’ Sukuna finished for you, leaning in closer as he examined your drawing. You nodded excitedly, he’d read your mind. 

‘’Yes, chef! I was about to draw some bacon-maple ice cream too, you know, thought it’d be a good pair with the pudding.’’ You explained, and Sukuna sighed. 

‘’Those…sound pretty good.’’ He forced out through clenched teeth. Why did compliments leave his lips like it pained him to choke out? You had to suppress a laugh. ‘’Quit all the smiling, chef.’’ Sukuna growled, leaning back and crossing his arms. You blinked, bringing your hand up to cover your winning smile. 

‘’Sorry chef, just excited.’’ You replied, your voice betraying your glee. Sukuna scratched the back of his neck. The kitchen was silent, and it was just you two. You’d never been alone with Sukuna before, and something heavy hung in the air between you. The way he was looking at you made your stomach do a flip, his eyes burning in the dim light. 

Sukuna grunted. ‘’How long have you been drawing?’’ He asked finally, tilting his head, extending a hand on the table to lean on it. Your eyes flickered to his hand, noticing it was inches from yours. Was Sukuna really making conversation with you? Asking you personal questions? You had to be hallucinating. 

‘’Since I was seven, I think.’’ You shared, having to break eye-contact with Sukuna lest you burst into flames, ‘’I always drew food. It was awful at first, but the more interested in cooking I became the more I practiced and I never stopped. It’s my form of journaling I guess, since I’m too impatient to write things out.’’ Sukuna chuckled, low and fucking sexy. 

‘’Funny, since jotting down some ideas definitely takes less time than these damn gorgeous pieces of art.’’ He murmured, a hint of humor in his voice. Your face burned, the word gorgeous slipping from his lips sounding like sin, and you had to remind yourself he was talking about your drawings and not you. As if. 

‘’Well, I think words just don’t quite capture the same as the drawings.’’ You mumbled, avoiding his gaze, ‘’Besides, I half the time I can’t even think of the proper words, so the only way to get my thoughts out is with this.’’ Your hand smoothed over your notebook, suddenly finding the pages much more interesting than Sukuna’s stare. 

‘’I know what you mean.’’ He said. You felt a sudden rush of warmth as his hand reached up to grab your chin gently, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes widened at the sudden contact, but before you could move, Sukuna pushed your head to the side, pointing with his free hand to the art on the wall. ‘’Those are mine. I paint sometimes too.’’ 

‘’You’re kidding…’’ You whispered, staring at the artwork, a picture-perfect painting of a smoking dish that looked so real you could almost smell it. ‘’You painted the art around here, chef?’’ Sukuna’s fingers tightened on your chin for a moment, thumb rubbing over your skin before he dropped his hand from your face. Butterflies erupted in your chest as you returned your gaze to his. 

‘’I did.’’ Sukuna replied, cocky, but not too arrogant. You groaned, rolling your eyes playfully.

‘’Of course you’re amazing at that as well.’’ You joked, tilting your head up towards him. ‘’It’s not even fair at this point, chef.’’ It was Sukuna’s turn to roll his eyes, mouth twitching into a ghost of a smile. ‘’When did you start painting?’’

‘’My parents thought it might keep me out of trouble in middle school. Figured I could ‘harness my passion in a healthy way.’’’ He told you, ‘’Guess it ended up working out.’’ 

‘’Yeah, that’s putting it lightly, chef.’’ You laughed, resting your chin on your hand, ‘’Maybe you could give me some pointers.’’ 

‘’Think what you need pointers in is your cooking.’’ He pointed out with a raised brow, and if his eyes weren’t glittering with humor you’d feel a little embarrassed. As you and Sukuna chatted a bit more, you noticed the time. With a mumble, you excused yourself, grabbing your things to stuff into your bag, but as usual your clumsiness made you make a fool out of yourself again, colored pencils clattering to the floor. 

‘’Oh shit-’’ You sighed, dropping to your knees to grab them, but you were met with a large hand reaching for them. You chanced a look up to find Sukuna’s face inches from yours, his hot breath fanning over your cheeks as he bent down to help you. You felt your fingers brush against his, the soft contact sending electricity through your veins as you found yourself trapped in his eyes. He was staring hard, frozen like a statue, and for a second, his eyes flickered down to your lips. It was reflexive, how you bit your lip under his hot gaze, and you let your eyes drift down to his lips. They looked soft, inviting, calling out your name. 

The sound of another pencil rolling off the table and hitting the floor broke the heavy tension, and Sukuna blinked, rising to his feet quickly and taking a step back. His eyes flashed with annoyance as his jaw clicked, and you scrambled to your feet, mouth too dry to say anything. What the hell just happened? You quickly gathered up your things, shoving them into your bag. 

‘’Have a good night, chef.’’ Was all you managed to croak out, hurrying out of the kitchen, ears burning as you fled. Sukuna didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look back. 

~ ~ ~ 

You wouldn’t say it was awkward as you stumbled through your second week of service at Malevolent Shrine. Sure, you and Sukuna didn’t find yourselves alone for any awkwardness to happen, and your shy glances in his direction didn't help, but it wasn’t bad. 

Except it was. It was bad, really, really bad, because Sukuna was sporting a chip on his shoulder and all his rage was directed at you. Service was torture, and even Mahito couldn’t find the time to step in and add his own abuse between Sukuna berating you, telling you that you were moving too slow, plates not plated perfectly enough, making you do them again, and again, and again. Sukuna zeroed in on any slip-up and went on a tirade about how you were doing a terrible job, even when you weren’t doing a terrible job. He made up things to call you out on, and even Jin had to tell him to take it easy. Dagon and Toji gave you pitying looks, and Choso would try his best to be positive, but it was still awful. You just squared your shoulders and took it, but confusion clouded your nights, making you toss and turn in your bed as you dreaded the next day. 

Had you done something wrong? Had you pissed him off when you shared your drawings? Did he hate you? When he looked at you that night, the two of you on your knees and leaning in close, it didn’t look like hate. In fact, if you were encouraging your delusions, you could even assume he’d wanted to kiss you. You were an idiot. That week, you avoided Sukuna like the plague, hiding whenever he came stomping down the hall, ducking out of the restaurant as fast as you possibly could. It sucked, because you wanted to be around him, you wanted him to be close to you, to look at you again like he’d looked at you that night. 

Running your hand over your face in one exhausted motion while sitting on the bus one night, you mentally kicked yourself. You were crushing on an asshole. A total, grade-A, painfully handsome asshole who hated you, and who also happened to be your boss.

It was Friday night. Service was long and gruelling and you were stationed with Mahito, of all people, no doubt Sukuna purposely putting you there to give you a last kick up the ass. As you stood there, stirring the same pot for hours because that’s what Mahito ordered you to do, you considered quitting for the first time since you’d started there. Sukuna had it out for you, Mahito too. Why put yourself through this? It wasn’t like Sukuna was going to hire you after your trial run anyway. 

Then it happened. Mahito messed up. The sauce he’d prepared was too acidic. Way too acidic. You made a face as you tasted it, and Mahito gave you a glare. You knew Sukuna noticed because he was stomping over to you, but luckily for you, you’d prepared a second-batch. You shoved the handle into Sukuna’s hands, mumbling that you’d made a back-up, just in case, and if you weren’t so damn tired, you would’ve jumped for joy as Sukuna grunted out something that sounded like approval, still giving you an icy stare as he snarled at Mahito to get his shit together. 

The win didn’t last long though, even though Mahito grudgingly thanked you for saving his ass, and even went so far as to be nice to you, Sukuna managed to find something to bully you about later. Your plating of the sauce was too messy, were you completely incompetent? Did you even pass culinary school? 

You were alone in the locker room, hunched over with your head in your hands, trying to find the energy to pick yourself up and head home, when suddenly you heard him. 

‘’You’ll get a hunchback sitting like that.’’ His rumble echoed in the room. You slowly lifted your head to look at him, just about ready to blow up. This fucking guy. 

‘’Excuse me?’’ You muttered, grinding your teeth as you sat up. Sukuna regarded you, leaning against the wall, dressed in a tight, black shirt, chef pants hanging low on his narrow hips. 

‘’You did fine tonight, by the way.’’ Sukuna said, ignoring your question. You felt like you were gonna pop a blood vessel. Your hands tightened into fists as you stood up, glaring up at your boss. 

‘’Fine? I did fine?’’ You hissed, ‘’That’s real funny because the entire night, no, the entire week, you’ve been riding my ass even when you didn’t have a damn reason to.’’ You expected Sukuna to start going off on you, for anger to flash in his crimson eyes, but instead he just looked at you, almost cautiously. 

‘’I’ve been doing a damn good job Sukuna, and you know it. Everyone knows it. I’ve kept going, excelled wherever you put me, and yet you’re still treating me like I don’t belong here, and I don’t get it. I don’t fucking get it!’’ Your voice shook with anger as you rambled on, ‘’So why the fuck are you going so hard on me, huh?’’ You didn’t even realize you’d called him by his name instead of the honorary chef, but you didn’t care. Sukuna growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. You knew you were red-faced and angry as you faced off with him, but you were surprised he wasn’t hitting back. 

‘’I’m pushing you.’’ He rasped, eyes screwed shut like he had a migraine. You scoffed. 

‘’Pushing me? You don’t even give me any feedback! How the hell is that pushing me?’’ You challenged, taking an angry step forward. 

‘’Because you need to adapt. You need to change. You have to.’’ Sukuna replied in a low voice as his gaze settled on you. You stared, confusion bubbling up inside you. 

‘’Change?’’

‘’You need to toughen up. Get meaner. Like me, like everyone else here.’’ He explained, his hands falling to his sides where they curled into fists. You rubbed your face, closing your eyes and shaking your head in frustration. 

‘’That isn’t me.’’ You whispered, just loud enough for Sukuna to hear, ‘’That isn’t me and it’s not gonna be me. I’m not gonna bend and break, turn into someone I’m not just to fit in. I’ve come this far being who I am, and I’ve done a hell of a good job. I will excel as a chef being me, and you’re not gonna convince me I have to change. I’m not going to change. I won’t.’’ You gave Sukuna a hard stare as you finished your little speech, hoping you’d gotten your message across. Sukuna said nothing as he looked at you, but his jaw tightened, something simmering below the surface.

‘’You don’t understand.’’ He said in a dark voice, ‘’I need you to change.’’ You blinked, jerking back as hit words hit you like a train. 

‘’Sorry?’’ You hissed, heart pounding in your chest. Sukuna groaned, and he pushed himself off the wall. He moved quickly, like he was desperate for something, and in a second he had you pushed up against the wall, both his huge arms caging you in, his head hanging over you as he scowled. His closeness made you shiver, but you were too shocked to move, to even utter a single word as you stared up at him. Sukuna’s eyes found yours, glaring down at you, angry, but his lips were parted, twisting into a plea. 

‘’I need you to change because I can’t fucking handle you.’’ He uttered roughly, ‘’I can’t deal with you, who you are, how goddamn…soft, and-and kind you are, how pretty…’’ His hand came down to brush over your cheek gently, like you were made of glass, sending your heart in a spiral. Sukuna’s eyes were hazy, like he was in a dream as his eyes bore into yours with intense longing that brought the softest of sighs to your lips. 

‘’I can’t handle how brilliant you are, and I hate how much I can’t handle that I want you.’’ 

Oh.  

Sukuna’s eyes fell to your parted lips, his imposing body pressing up against your own, and you could feel the heat of him, his taut muscles feeling like a brick wall. You wanted to say something, anything, but you were scared that if you opened your mouth your voice would shake. The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, and you swore you could hear Sukuna’s heart beating in his chest. Both his hands slowly fell to cup your cheeks, sliding down to your neck, burning-hot palms making you swallow hard. 

‘’Can you handle how much I want you?’’ You finally said, voice weak and soft. Sukuna blinked, then huffed out a rough, almost crazed laugh, and then he kissed you. 

Sukuna’s lips seared your mouth, hot and tasting of smoke as he pressed you up against the wall. Your head was spinning, engulfed by his smell, his touch overwhelming you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting more, needing more. Sukuna’s hands fell to your hips, pulling you flush against his chest, growling into your mouth as his tongue swiped across your lips. You moaned softly, fingers tangled in his salmon-colored hair, melting into his arms as you felt his knee push up between your thighs. The kiss was hungry, tight desire coiling in your stomach and as if he could read your mind, Sukuna’s hands went to your chef’s coat, tearing off the buttons with ease. 

‘’You’re so damn distracting.’’ Sukuna growled in frustration as his mouth left yours and travelled to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, ‘’Can’t focus with you around me, fuck-’’ He swore as you rolled your hips, grinding on his knee, desperate to quell the tight longing in between your thighs. You tilted your head back as Sukuna’s teeth sank into your soft skin, nipping at you, filthy moans tumbling from his mouth, like he was getting off on just tasting your skin. 

‘’Really? I couldn’t tell.’’ You whispered, breathless, barely managing to form a sentence as your hands ran over Sukuna’s muscled, tattooed arms. God, he was strong. Sukuna’s deep laugh reverberated down his chest as his lips fell back on yours. He tugged off your chef’s coat to reveal your tank top, huge hands running up your torso to cup your chest, squeezing, and you whimpered. 

‘’Didn’t think such a sweet mouth could make such filthy sounds, doll.’’ He hummed, lips crashing back down to yours, forcing your mouth open as he hitched your leg around his waist, fingers gripping your thigh tightly. ‘’Shit, we shouldn’t fucking be doing this.’’ 

‘’Don’t care.’’ You mumbled, face flushed red. 

‘’Watch it.’’ Sukuna hissed, one hand gliding up underneath your shirt, feeling your skin with calloused fingers, and you shuddered. He pulled you off the wall, and you both stumbled into his office, his mouth never leaving yours, as if he needed the taste of your lips to function. Sukuna showed no hesitation as he kicked the door shut, pulling you onto his lap, one hand wrapped around your neck, the other sliding under the waistband of your pants. ‘’You taste so fucking sweet.’’ His breaths were coming fast, panting as he bit your lip. ‘’Driving me insane, girl.’’ 

You giggled into the kiss, your thighs opening for him, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. ‘’Sorry chef.’’ You teased as you leaned back, breaking the kiss, and Sukuna almost pouted at the loss. A wicked grin spread across his lips, flashing his canines at you. 

‘’Come back here.’’ He growled, pulling you towards him. As you kissed him, your hands blindly fumbled at his zipper, shaky but sure. His hand came down to grab yours, stilling your movements. ‘’You sure you want this?’’ He asked you, crimson eyes studying yours, ‘’Because I want it. Want it really fucking bad, doll.’’ You shivered, biting your lip as you nodded eagerly. 

‘’Good girl, good fucking girl.’’ He mumbled, his hands diving under your panties, fingers reaching the wet spot between your legs and you let out a pathetic moan as you felt the warmth of his hand finally give you some release of tension. Sukuna let you unzip him, feeling how hard he was for you and you almost paled as you felt how damn big he was. Sukuna smirked, cocky as ever. ‘’See what you do to me, doll?’’ 

“S-Sukuna-“ you gasped out as white-hot pleasure flooded your vision, Sukuna’s fingers expertly curling into you. Sukuna grinned as he stared up at you, mouth open, eyes awe-struck. 

“Yeah, that’s it baby.” He groaned, “Fuck, if I knew how much you wanted me I’d have done this sooner.” 

The office was filled with the sounds of heavy moans and whimpers, but it came to a crashing halt when the sound of footsteps sounded outside. Sukuna and you froze just as you had raised your hips to sink down onto him, your heart racing as you strained your ears to hear. Sukuna growled when he heard a knock at his door, his fingers clenching tightly over the soft skin of your thighs.

‘’You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me-’’ He muttered, giving you a glance, eyes flickering over your flushed face and kiss-stung lips like it pained him to stop what he had been doing. ‘’Keep your mouth shut, hm?’’ He said quickly, voice quiet, giving your cheek a quick kiss before he helped you off his lap. You shrank away, trying desperately to not let out a groan of frustration at the loss of contact with Sukuna, your core aching as you tugged up your pants. Sukuna cracked open the door just enough to peer through and see who it was. 

‘’The fuck do you want?’’ He grunted, and you could see his hand tightening on the doorframe, knuckles flexing. 

‘’Wanted to see if you wanted to join us for a drink.’’ Toji’s voice carried through the entryway, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Here you were, hiding in your boss’s office, like you were a couple of teenagers getting hot and heavy in a school broom closet, seconds away from getting caught red-handed. 

You could almost hear the eye-roll Sukuna gave to Toji. ‘’No thanks, now fuck off.’’ 

The door slammed in Toji’s face without giving him a chance to reply, and Sukuna turned back slowly, resting his back against the door as he took a deep breath. His crimson eyes found you once more, his mouth turning up into a sly smirk. You couldn't help but smile too, cheeks heating up now that the heat of the moment had been interrupted. 

‘’This is your chance to walk away.’’ Sukuna said, running a hand through his hair as he watched you squirm under his hot gaze, ‘’Walk away before we make a mistake.’’ You tilted your head, gazing up at him as he took a step towards you.

‘’Doesn’t seem like you want me to walk away.’’ You teased, voice shaky as Sukuna backed you into his desk, huge hands going to your hips as he lifted you easily onto it and slotted himself between your thighs. 

‘’No,’’ Sukuna whispered softly as he leaned in, kissing your neck gently, sending shivers up your spine, ‘’I don’t want you to walk away. Want you here. With me.’’ You hummed in satisfaction as your hands smoothed over the huge expanse of his back, feeling the tightening of his muscles beneath your fingers. Sukuna peppered your neck with kisses, nipping at your skin and leaving marks you were sure you’d have to cover up the next day. His fingers brushed across the bare skin of your torso, digging in once he found his hold and gripping you tightly, like he was afraid you’d run. 

‘’Does this mean I’m getting hired now, chef?’’ You asked, laughing as Sukuna buried his face into the crook of your neck. Sukuna sighed. 

‘’You’re fucking unbelievable.’’ He grunted, but you could feel him smiling against your neck, then after a moment, he took your face in his hands and kissed you again.

~ ~ ~

a/n: been rewatching the bear...got sukuna chef brainrot and this is the result, let me know if u like ;)