college!sukuna + the first time he asks you to watch yuuji for him :)
“Yes mom, everything is okay- no I don’t need you to send me food- ma, please-“ you try reasoning with your mother, phone between your cheek and your shoulder, while trying to cook something up.
It’s been a month since your arrival and she’s worried you might not find the comfort she so desperately wants you to have. You love her, but she can be a little too much. You manage to hang up and then you’re deep in thought, not knowing if you should add pepper or not to your pot, when a deep voice near your ear makes you jump.
“Yo.”
“For fuck- hi?! Couldn’t you, I don’t know, make any kind of noise before scaring me shitless?” You say to college!sukuna, who is looking at your pan from behind your shoulder.
“That looks like a mess,” he responds, ignoring your outburst. He's so nonchalant, almost as if judging negatively something is his natural behaviour towards strangers.
“Get out,” you whine, trying to push him away by putting your hands on his chest. He doesn’t move an inch, merely resorting to stare at you from below his nose. Your breath almost hitches: his eyes are piercing red, and the fact that he has a pair of them tattoed beneath his real ones makes him look-
"You look like a serial killer, should I call the cops on you or are you going to step back?" you say, raising one eyebrow. He blows in your face and gives you space only when he hears you whine. Asshole. Your hands fall from his chest and you slightly touch his torso. Oh, the boy has muscles, that's for sure.
"I need you to watch the brat for me," he tells you straightforwardly.
You're confused. "You need me to watch who?"
He rolls his eyes. "My brother, I need you to watch my brother."
You gape up at him, then raise your shoulders and move around him to get to the fridge. "No thanky youuu."
"Come on. They need me at the studio, a client requested me for a tattoo," he says following you, hands in his pockets.
“Not surprised you’re a tattoo artist. I’m sorry for your clients,” you mumble.
“The fuck did you say?” He snarls.
You huff. “I said, what’s in it for me?”
You turn around closing the fridge door with your hip, and you find him staring at you, again.
“Pal, you have a serious staring problem-“
“I’m ordering take out for ya.”
“Huh?” You respond, a little baffled.
“Are you dense?” He starts, a bored tilt to his tone. He thinks you’re kinda cute, but the fact you talk back makes him want to shut you up. With his own tongue down your throat, possibly. “I said I’m ordering you food. Take care of my brother and you can ask me for whatever you want for dinner. It’s not like you’re a great cook, anyway,” he adds, pointing towards the pan you still have on the stove.
You lightly slap his arm and he fights back the urge to slap you back on your forehead. Affectionately! Maybe.
“You’re so rude. Go, I’ll watch Yuuji. I want seafood boil, thanks,” you singsong. In your peripheral vision you see him stretching out his hand.
“Shake on it.”
You put your hand in his and try to grip him as strongly as possible, but he notices and it feels like he’s trying to crush your bones when he grips your hand back.
“Ow! Okay! Deal!” you say stepping back and massaging your hand, frowning.
“Thanks,” he says smirking.
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Can't talk, thinking about accidentally triggering claiming and mating behaviors in Zhongli -
There's just something about it, you know? Seeing Zhongli, a god - a former Archon- who has placed himself above his base desires and draconic instincts, struggle to hold those very same instincts back when it comes to you.
Perhaps you stayed out just a bit too long for his liking. A surprise rainstorm swept through the harbor, and once you returned to your shared home, you were absolutely soaked. Ah, but you were offered a spare coat from a coworker of yours to keep even just a bit dry - and Zhongli is quietly simmering with displeasure as that scent drowns out yours. Drowns out what should be his scent on you. That which marks you as his. It shouldn't bother him like this; he knows it wasn't intentional. He knows that you merely misjudged the forecasted rain (as you often do, despite him being overly familiar with the weather patterns of the region and reminding you of this constantly) and then accepted help from a man - a coworker, he tries to remind himself . Yet he's barely listening to you as he tugs you out of the offending article and -
Oh...it isn't enough.
There's a cloying, wretched stench stuck to your clothes, and Zhongli's patience is running even thinner as he strips you of these as well. But even after he's kicked those soiled clothes to the side and secured his own coat around you, it still isn't enough. It's as if that offending scent has permeated your skin, sunken in with the rain - and there's a deep seated, rarely seen possessiveness that takes root in his mind. One he hasnt felt since...Archons, since he last took up his former name. It's as though a white hot brand has pierced him and coiled around his senses.
Everything that is logical about this no longer matters; the only thing that makes sense to him is the sudden way he gathers you into his arms and makes haste to the bedroom. Your scent is there, as is his. And this will be a well needed reminder that he doesn't appreciate other claiming his treasure as their own.
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