Taming the Cam King

**Chapter 1: Midnight Challenge**

You’ve been living with Ryomen Sukuna for just over two weeks now, and it’s been a test of patience you didn’t know you had. The apartment is nice enough—sleek, modern, with a killer view of the city—but the walls are paper-thin. Every night, like clockwork, the sounds start. Deep, guttural moans. Low growls of pleasure. The unmistakable rhythm of a man who knows exactly how to work his audience. You knew he was a camboy—hell, he’s practically a legend online with a following that could fill a stadium—but knowing it and *hearing* it are two very different things.

Tonight, though, you’ve had enough. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, you clench your fists as his voice filters through the wall again. 'Fuck, yeah, just like that,' he purrs to his viewers, and your skin prickles with a mix of irritation and something hotter, something you refuse to name. You’re not some blushing wallflower; you’re a woman who takes what she wants, and right now, you want silence—or something better.

You swing your legs out of bed, the cool floor grounding you as you storm to his door. No knocking. You push it open, and there he is—Ryomen Sukuna, shirtless, tattoos sprawling across his chiseled chest, a wicked grin on his face as he lounges in front of his camera setup. His dark hair is mussed, and those piercing eyes lock onto you instantly, amusement flickering in them.

'Well, damn,' he drawls, not even bothering to mute his stream. 'Looks like my roommate’s come to play. What’s got you so riled up, sweetheart?'

You cross your arms, standing tall in your thin tank top and shorts, refusing to let his cocky tone throw you off. 'I’m not your sweetheart, Sukuna. I’m here because I can’t sleep with your damn moaning echoing through the walls. Either keep it down, or I’ll make you.'

He laughs, a low, dangerous sound, leaning back in his chair, thighs spread wide. 'Make me? Oh, I’d love to see you try. You think you can handle a guy like me? I’ve got thousands of people begging for a piece of this.' He gestures to himself, all arrogance and raw, unfiltered charm.

You step closer, the air between you crackling. 'I don’t care about your little fan club. I’m not begging for anything. I’m telling you to shut up—or I’ll shut you up myself.'

His grin widens, and he stands, towering over you but not intimidating you for a second. 'Big words for someone who’s been listening to me every night. Don’t pretend you’re not curious. I can see it in your eyes—you’re dying to know what’s got everyone so hooked.'

You don’t back down, stepping right into his space, your chest brushing his. 'Curious? Maybe. But if I’m taking a taste, it’s on my terms, not yours. You’re used to being in control, aren’t you? Let’s see how you handle someone flipping the script.'

His breath hitches—just for a split second, but you catch it. 'Oh, you’re trouble,' he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. 'I like trouble. How about you show me what you’ve got, then? Right here, right now.' He nods toward the camera, still rolling, his smirk daring you.

Your lips curl into a sly smile as you grab his chin, forcing his gaze to stay on you. 'Turn that damn thing off. This isn’t for your audience. This is for me.'

He hesitates, clearly not used to taking orders, but the heat in your stare makes him comply. With a click, the camera’s off, and the room feels suddenly smaller, heavier. You push him back toward the bed, your hands firm on his shoulders, and he lets you—for now. 'You think you’re such hot shit,' you taunt, straddling his hips as he sits on the edge of the mattress, his hands instinctively gripping your thighs. 'But I’m about to show you what it’s like to lose control.'

His eyes darken, pupils blown wide with lust. 'Keep talking, babe. I’m already hard just thinking about how you’ll try to break me.'

You feel it beneath you, the evidence of his words pressing against your core, and a thrill shoots through you. Leaning in, your lips hover over his, teasing. 'Oh, I’m not trying, Sukuna. I’m doing. And by the time I’m done, you’ll be begging for more.'

His hands slide up to your ass, squeezing possessively, but you grab his wrists, pinning them above his head with a strength that surprises even him. 'My rules,' you whisper, your voice dripping with command. 'Let’s see how long you last.'