Please Please Please - Blog Posts

french toast

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

an: enabled by @babiemay thank her for giving me the BIGGEST best friends older brother sukuna brain rot i've ever had in my life. (ooc sukuna again btw)

**part of my best friends (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

--

based on the seventeen years that sukuna has known you, he figures that you’ve already worked up some type of overthinking storm in your head when you arrive at his apartment two days later. and he knows for a fact that he’s right, because you’re at his doorstep with a pinched look on your face, clutching your purse like you’re about to get robbed. 

“hi pretty girl. did someone make an attempt on your life today?” 

you can feel your cheeks burning at the term of endearment, so phased you can barely coherently respond - or understand - what it is he said. 

“no?” you respond, nearly sweating under his eye contact as he smiles. 

“then why are you looking at me like you think i’m going to eat you?” he asks, annoyed as he gestures for you to walk into the kitchen. 

you feel your head run in a spiral, at the implication of his words, as he places his hands flat on your shoulders, and guides you to sit at the stool on his little kitchen island. the entire ordeal - the breakfast, the fact that he’s peeling off your coat and pressing a kiss to your temple, and the lingering touches - they make your skin burn, almost itch with nervousness. 

he stands on the other side of the counter, leaning forward on his forearms, as he smiles at you. and you try your best to figure out what exactly it is that’s beaming in his eyes as he leans forward. 

“pick your poison.” 

you feel yourself pale. 

“huh?” 

he frowns, as he leans back. 

“for breakfast? what did you want to eat?” he clarifies. 

you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“anything’s okay. don’t trouble yourself. i-i can even help.” 

you walk over to his side, pulling up your sleeves and giving him a peachy smile, as he takes the opportunity to step towards you. your back hits the counter and sukuna makes it a point - resting both of his arms at your sides - as he traps you within his hold. 

“talk.” he states, almost sternly. 

“hm?” 

sukuna leans closer, leaning his forehead against yours, as he takes a deep breath. it reminds you vividly, of two nights ago, when he pulled you straight onto his lap. and murmured into your skin that you were his pretty girl. and that he was going to prove it to you. 

“talk.” he states, the tone in his voice irritated. 

you look up at him, at his eyes razor focused in on yours, and spot no inclination of irritation on his face. despite the fact that you were almost positive that it was dripping from his tone. though, you always found him particularly hard to read.  

“now.” he murmurs. 

you sigh. 

“what are you trying to do right now?” you ask. 

he rolls his eyes. there’s the irritation you were hearing. 

“make you breakfast.” he deadpans. 

“is that all?” 

“what are you getting at?” he asks. 

sukuna often finds that talking to you is like digging a hole. that it takes patience. because he’s not going to find what he’s looking for forthright. but he knows for a fact that there’s something down there. 

it’s aggravating. but he persists.  

“promise you won’t make fun?” you ask. 

“i will do no such thing.” 

“sukuna.” you whine, crossing your hands against your chest. 

sukuna finds this part of you endearing. because it reminds him of all the different ways he’s seen you. when you were four and barging into his house to play wii with his little brother, explaining barbie movies at the dinner table, and tagging along on his family vacation when he was fourteen. 

and how after all this time, you still have the same tendencies. you bounce your right leg when you’re nervous, tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re finished rambling, and curl your hands into little fists and cross your arms - entirely unable to meet his eyes - when you’re embarrassed. 

sukuna clears his throat, as you look up at him. and you know the expression all too well. that he’ll wait all day if he has to. 

“no making fun. i’m serious, sukuna.” 

“it’s almost like you know you’re going to say something stupid.” 

“don’t call my feelings stupid.” you murmur. 

“well, i’ll keep calling them stupid until you tell me what they are. i’ll be honest if you let me.” 

this is something you can appreciate about sukuna. that he won’t beat around the bush. or say things just to coddle. it’s the same as the other night, where you told him about what happened at the bar, when he didn’t rush to your defense like almost everyone else does. and when it comes to this, you figure that he’ll be straightforward. 

“are you trying to have sex with me right now?” you ask. 

you look at sukuna, specifically at the way his eyes widen, before he breaks out into a laugh. and not just any laugh, because he’s nearly keeling over with how amusing he finds it. howling even. and it makes even more blood rush to your cheeks, humiliated for even bringing it up. 

sukuna grins, lifting his hands up from the sides of the counter and wrapping them around your neck.you can feel your breath hitch in your throat, as you instinctively shut your eyes. he’s going to be straightforward. 

“your feelings are stupid.” he whispers, right into your skin. 

you pull back, staring at him dumbfounded, as he places one of his hands on your waist. and he’s staring back at you, the expression in his face slightly amused. 

“that’s not nice.” 

“i’m not a nice person.” 

it’s frustrating. the tone that he uses with you. it teeters between placating and teasing you and you find it hard to decide which one exactly it is. and it seeps right under your skin, lets your irritation come to a head faster than it usually would.

“okay, well. sue me! you had no problems doing god knows what in my room the other day. and-and then you were making jokes about how you were going to eat me. the second that i got here. and-and you know how you are-” 

“and what’s that?” 

you pause.

“what?” 

“you said you know how you are. well, i don’t. enlighten me please.” he clarifies. 

sukuna’s pleased with himself. because he’s figured out exactly what it is, that’s brewing in that head of yours. and naturally, he has every intention to make you mince your words. 

“you-” 

you’re not sure how to say this. if there’s a polite way to call him what he is. 

“i’m what? a manwhore?” he asks. 

“no! you-” 

“you think i’m a horny freak, right? that i want to lift you up, take your skirt off, and have you right here on my kitchen counter?” 

you feel your eyes go wide, as you swallow hard, and feel the nervousness take residence in your stomach. sukuna senses it fast enough and makes his efforts to diffuse it. 

“do you think i would only invite you here because i want you to please me? do you think that’s the only way i can enjoy your company?” 

you can feel yourself getting too overstimulated, your head nearly steaming - at the implication, at the way he’s looking at you, and the fact that his lips are a few feet away from yours - and his smug grin crawling underneath your skin and making you twitch. 

you cover your face with your hands, feeling the warmth on your palms, as you feel his hands curl around your wrists, prying them off of your face. and when you look up at him, at the soft smile on his face, as you can’t help but frown at him. 

“no…” 

sukuna smiles. 

“are you lying to me?” 

you deflate. 

“maybe a little.” 

sukuna secures his hands around your waist, before fully lifting you up and placing you on the counter. and he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek before he wordlessly starts rummaging through different cabinets in his kitchen and the fridge, fully intent on making you the breakfast you were promised. 

you can’t help but watch him, as he muses around his kitchen, slicing vegetables on the cutting board and fruits on the side. at how he entirely discards the conversation you just had like it was nothing. 

from two feet away, sukuna is very, very appreciative of you. because you’re not very proud. and despite your first attempts, you’re honest too. because he knows for a fact that your hesitation to state your thoughts is because you don’t want to write sukuna off as something so…lewd. even if you think it’s true. and that of course, any hesitation on your part comes from something deeper than him. 

the deep seated distaste you seem to have for yourself. though sukuna’s entirely unsure why it’s there in the first place. he slices a strawberry in half, letting the eggs cook at his side, before he makes a residence standing in between your legs. 

he hands you one of the halves of the strawberry, before popping the other in his mouth and leaning into your space. 

“i don’t think you’re a manwhore.” you clarify. 

“okay. i don’t think you’re one either.” he responds. 

you smile.

“but you do think that’s the only reason you’re here?” he pokes. 

“no! no, i don’t think that. i just-” 

you sigh, placing your hands flat on the fabric of his hoodie, as you crumple it into your fists. 

“sorry. i’m not very good at this type of thing. and-and you’re like…you know. reputation. and you obviously have needs! and megumi thinks you’re a womanizer.” 

sukuna snickers, as you release his hoodie, and you deflate slightly. mainly at the fact that he’s not offended. and letting you ramble - and say ten different things you shouldn’t - openly. 

sukuna doesn’t shy away from what exactly it is that you think of him. or what that godawful sea urchin megumi thinks either. because it’s naturally, quite simple. and somewhat true. because he finds it hard to stay in one place for a long time. and as you very keenly put it, he had needs. 

though, that rule, as sukuna was painstakingly reminded of, didn’t apply to you. because again, you transcended any normal guideline that sukuna had. which is why he was keen on making you breakfast two days later, on his day off. and make your favorite, which he specifically remembers from the camping trip. 

“i’m not sure what thing you’re referencing. and make no mistake. i don’t talk in tongues like you do. if i invite you over for breakfast, it’s because i want to eat breakfast with you.” he responds. 

“you were the one who said you were going to eat me.” you defend. 

“you were looking at me like you were scared of me. like how prey looks at a predator before it gets eaten?” 

“oh.” 

sukuna pushes off the counter as he starts plating the food onto and feels his ego inflate when you jump off the counter and cling to his arm when you realize what exactly it is that he made. 

“sukuna. i love french toast!” 

“yes. i’m well aware.” 

"how'd you know?" you ask.

sukuna looks over at you, the look in his eyes so devious, that you know you've certainly walked into something by stating it.

"you told us. on the camping trip. you've always been my pretty girl. even when you were fourteen."

you barely have time to even stomach what it is that he said as he lifts both plates as he makes a gesture for you to follow, seating the two of you back on his kitchen island. and when you settle in, sukuna gets to pick at your mind, with the questions that have been stuck in his head for the past two days. 

“before i divulge my manwhore adventures for you, you have to indulge me first. how many guys have you dated? or talked to?” sukuna asks. 

you hate sukuna’s choice of words sometimes. indulge. it’s almost like he knows he’s saying words that make you nervous. that make the sweat accumulate on the palms of your hands. 

“where’d you learn how to make french toast like this?” you ask, deflecting. 

“i asked first.” 

you swirl the eggs around on the plate - moving them from the left, to the right, and back to the left - before you answer. 

“i had a crush on this guy named dean from sixth grade to eighth grade. all of the boys in school got dared to slow dance with different girls and he picked me. it was an awkward four minutes of halo by beyonce but i loved him after that. he was funny. and cute.” 

“did you date?” he asks. 

“oh, of course not. he started liking this girl named kimi in eighth grade.” 

sukuna’s not exactly sure if this is the question he asked. but you keep going. and it’s intriguing to him nonetheless. 

“in my sophomore year of highschool, i had a crush on this guy named parker. he was kind of nerdy, like the stupid type? my english teacher would always put us in group projects together, and when i asked him why, he said it was because he wanted us to get married.” 

“that’s an appropriate thing to say to a fifteen year old.” sukuna bites. 

“no! my teacher had this dream to go to two of his students weddings, that met in his class.” 

“and what killed that extremely inapprorpiate dream, dead in its tracks?” 

“my best friend. we all somehow ended up in the same friends group our junior year. and they kind of started flirting. dated all the way till our freshman year of college.” you respond. 

sukuna curbs the question that comes to the forefront of his mind. because it occurs to him that his plausible answer to it, one that he despises, is exactly what’s going to be the answer. that if they liked each other, you were going to let them. despite the fact that you liked him first. 

“any more for me?” sukuna asks. 

“my first boyfriend was in my senior year of highschool.” 

sukuna feigns shock, as you fight the urge to laugh. 

“have we finally arrived to a real boyfriend?” 

you laugh, as you settle your hand into his underneath the table. there’s something so inviting about him, the way he’s hanging off the ends of your words and listening intently, that makes you continue. 

“we don’t speak his name.” you state. 

“oh?” 

“he’s not a good guy. we dated until….my freshman year of college. december. and we officially stopped talking the summer of my sophomore year.” you state. 

sukuna bites the urge to ask every question in his mind. on who this guy is, why you continued to talk to him almost an entire year after, and most importantly, why you haven’t talked to anyone else since. 

except for him anyways. for the first time, sukuna finds himself being the exception. in a way that’s favorable to him. 

“that’s all of them! your turn.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s all?” 

“mhm! it’s kind of boring, i’m assuming. in comparison to you.” 

sukuna concludes one thing. that all three of these men, especially the last, were not deserving of you. in the slightest. and that each one had wrecked a sizeable amount of havoc. he curses himself for not paying attention when he was still there.

“oh definitely. you’d need to stay here all day if you wanted to here that.” 

you smile brightly. 

“that can be arranged.” you respond. 

sukuna leans forward, lips a few feet away from yours, before he speaks again. 

“you like to play hard to get, don’t you?” sukuna asks. 

“what? what do you mean?” 

sukuna places his hands on the rung of your chair, before pulling it flesh with his own. and he tests the waters, by placing his hand on your bare knee, right near the pleats of your black skirt. and he feels you instinctively press your legs together, but make no moves to push him off. 

“i didn’t make the list?” 

you swallow hard, entirely embarrassed. though, your first real crush you supposed is naturally the one that you’ve denied, vehemently, since you were four years old and yuuji asked you in passing. 

because when your eyes lingered on him for too long, after he fixed the wii controls and dutifully handed you both your controllers back - of his wii, that he was letting you play on - yuuji halfmindedly asked the question. 

why are you looking at him like that? do you like him or something? 

it was a joke, of course. because yuuji just asked so he could start the match of wii tennis while you weren’t paying attention. that in the rush of it, you never got to consider the answer to it in full. though you suppose there’s no better time to answer it than now. 

“i have this best friend. his name is yuuji.” you start. 

sukuna’s alarmed. so alarmed that he pulls his hand off of your thigh, retreating it behind his back. 

surely you didn’t really like yuuji. because that would stop whatever it was that was blooming right now. because he was not his brother, despite their identical pink hair. the farthest thing from it actually. 

“i met him when i was four. and i barged into his house because he wanted me to play wii with him. you see, his big brother didn’t really like to play with him so he figured that i was the next best thing.” you state. 

“he had greasy hands. so did you. it was disgusting.” he states. 

“and yuuji didn’t know how to turn on the game. or-or remember which one it was in. so he called his very cool, much older brother, to help us. i’d never met a six year old before, and naturally if i had, i wouldn’t have thought he was so cool.” 

“shut up.” 

sukuna desperately wants you to continue. 

“seemed like the real serious type. kind of quiet. dark blue shirt, black shorts. the socks that only go to your ankles. i didn’t even know that his name was sukuna until a few days later, when he walked with us to school. he didn’t even introduce himself to me.” 

“did you want to know him that badly?” 

“and he fixed the remote, obviously. had some six year knowledge we didn’t clearly. and-and he turned to me. gave me a smile before he handed one to me and walked away.” you state, shrugging at him. 

sukuna’s satiated with your answer. mostly because, it seems you seem to remember the ordeal in as excruticating detail as he has. that you were wearing a pink dress, gold earrings, and a ribbon in your hair. that your skin was the softest he had ever felt, that you were the first girl who had brushed fingers with him when he handed you the remote, save for his mom of course 

sukuna brings his hand back into your hair, feeling the fabric of the blue ribbon in your hair today, matching with the short cardigan that you were wearing. and he wants to keep this one too. yank it out of your hair and secure it to his keys next to the pink one he refused to return. 

sukuna looks down at the fabric, at your hair sprawled over your shoulder. he can make out the length of your collarbone from underneath your tanktop and settles his lips right into divot, before pressing a lingering kiss into your skin and feeling you keel over in his arms. 

“france.” he murmurs, right into your skin. 

“what’s that?” you ask, dazed from the contact. 

“i learned to make the french toast in france.”

he kisses up the length of your neck, making no inclination to stop even as you barely stutter your words out. and for the second time, can't resist and places his hands on your waist just to pull you straight on top of him.

"makes sense. that's just-just toast for them." you mumble.

sukuna can't help but laugh. he's never going to tire of you.

--

an: ask for a part three I DARE you. (no I really don't but if I did write one reader is meeting sukuna's friends AND the guy who called her ugly ends up being one of them. anyways.)

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So there's a prissy evil drow that's hated by all of his allies, is terrified of failure, is from a noble background, everyone thinks he's an idiot, he lashes out violently to compensate for his own inadequacies, and you can shatter his belief system in one (1) conversation and you're telling me I can't recruit him to my squad and bully him at my camp every damn day?? Like fr??

Trailer soon..

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Soon...