Grapesandraisins - Classy Ho

The US economy genuinely might collapse within a week. lol

Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

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Something like this would be so colossally helpful. I'm sick and tired of trying to research specific clothing from any given culture and being met with either racist stereotypical costumes worn by yt people or ai generated garbage nonsense, and trying to be hyper specific with searches yields fuck all. Like I generally just cannot trust the legitimacy of most search results at this point. It's extremely frustrating. If there are good resources for this then they're buried deep under all the other bullshit, and idk where to start looking.

love & company || r. sukuna

❦ biker ryomen sukuna x female biker reader || non-curse au

❦ oneshot

❝ you're beginning to lose hope of ever fixing your bike as the moon rises over the horizon when a man built like a brick wall and covered in tattoos stops to help you out. he's standoffish and his words are cold - but as it turns out the version of him you see is soft. who knew this man could ever become your best friend, let alone something more? ❞

❦ warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. friends to lovers. fluff. hurt/comfort. p in v. fingering. oral (f! and m! receiving). degradation (slut). choking. pet names (princess, brat, woman, girl). size kink. rough sex. unprotected. biting. hair pulling. manhandling. toxic relationship (not sukuna). manipulation (not sukuna). reckless driving. use of alcohol and cigarettes. reader is implied to be short/small mostly in comparison to sukuna but he's huge so. ooc warning for sukuna given that this is modern and i want him to be more realistically human. i probably got some of the bike information wrong.

❦ words ; 24.2k.

masterlist

A cool evening wind chills your skin as you hunch over your bike on the side of the road. You’re thankful for your thick leather jacket to protect you from the brisk winds, but it doesn’t make it easy to work when your thoughts continue to stray to the fast-approaching night.

Your Kawasaki motorcycle puttered to a stop an hour ago and you’ve been on the side of the road ever since. Of course it would happen today of all days, where your patience runs thin and you want nothing more than to be curled up in bed.

Your small array of tools that you keep for times like these are finally proving useful, but you can hardly bring yourself to care as you run out of things to check. You’re almost certain the issue is a clogged fuel line at this point but without the necessary tools to check, you’re fresh out of ideas on what to do aside from calling a tow truck.

The sound of another passing motorbike is grating on your ears as someone speeds by on a bright red Ducati and you want to curse them out just for having a working bike, but to your surprise, they circle back a minute later and pull up next to you.

A broad-shouldered figure steps off the bike, pulling a dark helmet off and giving his head a shake, running a hand through his pink hair to give it a naturally windswept look. Tattoos line his sharp jaw and scars litter his right eye. Deep near-crimson eyes lock on you, a mildly cold expression spread over the tall man’s features. He’s just about the textbook definition of what you would think of as a ‘bad boy’.

He looks you over before taking in the state of your bike. The sight of you covered in grease and oil sitting in defeat on the ground is amusing to him to say the least- you don’t much look the part of a biker between your small figure and approachable stature but one look at your bike and attire tells him not to judge a book by its cover.

“Need a hand?”

Unfortunately for the tattooed man, he’s caught you in a bad mood.

“No,” you grumble, picking up your wrench and dipping back into a rhythm of checking everything.

“I’ve got more tools than just a wrench,” he offers. Your intense gaze looks him over again, surveying the black leather hanging off his shoulders and red helmet that matches his bike tucked under his elbow.

“I can handle myself,” you insist, not keen on accepting a stranger’s help, especially given his cold expression.

“Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he retorts with a click of his tongue. “Just askin’ if you want a spanner or pliers.” His eyes flicker to the moon rising in the sky. “Or a flashlight.”

You follow his gaze out to the rising moon, its light not offering enough of a look at your bike to be all that helpful as night begins to fall.

You sigh, wiping perspiration from your forehead with the back of your hand. The man’s lips quirk upwards in a minute smirk at the sight of the grease you accidentally wipe on your head. He thinks it’s cute.

“A spanner would be helpful,” you give in, pulling a pair of pliers from where you’d set them down beneath your knee to show you did at least have a couple of tools handy.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, the tall man turns to the backpack he’d set on the ground behind him. He sets his helmet on the seat of his bike and pulls out a spanner, handing it to you in place of the torque wrench you’ve set at your side.

He’s silent as you thank him and begin adjusting the spanner’s size to detach the fuel line. Standing in silence, he does little more than watch given that you don’t seem to want his help.

When the fuel line finally detaches, you groan as you realize you’d been right about the problem the entire time and the line is blocked. Without an air compressor, there isn’t much you can do to get your bike running again and your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Now d’you need a hand?” He asks with a raised brow and a small smirk.

The look you shoot him is fiery and he’d be a liar to say he doesn’t think your attitude is cute. It suits the strange vibes he gets from you in the best of ways.

“I’ll just call for a tow,” you insist, still refusing the help of the stranger you know nothing about, aside from the fact that he has just about the most high-end street legal sports bike in pristine condition and you find it to be pretentious.

“Suit yourself. I can fix it for free, though.”

You press your lips into a thin line, brow furrowed as you look over his features. The man practically towers over you, he’s built like a tank and dwarfs you in every sense. His expression is aloof, giving away very little about him. You have no reason to believe he’s lying though, so with a sigh, you give in and hand him the spanner he’d lent you.

The man lowers himself beside you, disconnecting the other side of the fuel line entirely as he begins pulling apart the carburetor. You sit back, watching your bike attentively as though he might do damage to it, but his fingers move deftly as if this is all muscle memory to him.

“What’s your name?” You ask as the silence stretches on. It’s a surprisingly comfortable silence, as he grabs a rag and water bottle from his backpack. He glances at you as he wets the rag and begins cleaning the carburetor.

“Sukuna.”

“You know your way around a bike.”

“Been riding for a while.”

You nod. Despite his kind actions, his words are distant and frigid, so you decide not to push the subject.

It’s silent for a while as you sit with your hands splayed on the asphalt behind you, watching his actions. Your eyes survey the man hunched over your bike, admiring the smooth lines of the tattoos that line his jaw, more ink just barely visible along his neck from beneath his jacket. His hair looks freshly dyed and his right eye is dotted in long scars that have you wondering what happened.

If the situation were any different, you might be hesitant to accept his help, but in truth you’re too tired to complain.

It’s not much longer before your bike is back together. Wiping his hands with the rag, he nods to the bike.

“Give ‘er.”

Pushing yourself to your feet, you turn the key. The engine flips once, twice, three times, before finally sputtering to life.

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you sigh in relief, shaking your head. “I thought the issue was the fuel line,” you groan over the sound of the engine.

“It is. You need to replace it, this should get you a few miles away though.”

You nod affirmatively, reaching down to hand back his tools. Sukuna dumps them in his bag and throws it over his shoulder.

“You’re a lifesaver, I don’t know how to thank you,” you tell him, your mood no longer sour as your bike continues to roar, thankfully not dead on the side of the road anymore.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He simply shrugs.

“Let me buy you a drink, or something,” you insist in spite of your exhaustion, though his cold demeanor doesn’t give you much hope that he’ll accept anyway, so you figure you’ll be able to get some rest regardless of the offer.

As he turns to grab his helmet, you half expect him to start his bike and drive off without another word, ignoring your offer entirely. It’s just the impression he gives you, but he surprises you.

“Keep up, then.”

Your brow raises and before you have a chance to complain that you’re covered in a layer of sweat and grease and you’d meant at a later date, his bike is roaring to life.

You scramble onto your own bike and follow him closely. Sukuna is half-shocked when you actually pull up into the parking lot of a small bar right behind him, pulling your helmet off and shaking your head in an effort to fix your hair.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t find everything about you intriguing. From your bike to the way you ride and your feisty disposition all packaged in such a tiny figure compared to him, he thinks it’s cute. Maybe even something more than that.

He leads the way to the bar wordlessly as you complain about the grease coating your body, but he barely notices the oil marking your skin. He’s used to it, if anything, from working on his own bike.

You aren’t even sure if he’s listening given his flippant attitude and lack of response, but you drone on regardless. It’s better than silence.

Choosing to ignore your frustrated rambles, he orders a whiskey and glances in your direction.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” you tell the bartender with a sweet smile, waving your hand in the air like you don’t much mind what exactly you’re drinking. It’s your turn to surprise Sukuna.

“Don’t think I caught your name,” Sukuna says as you lean over the bar beside him.

You tell him your name with a sweet smile, your mood clearly improved as you take the whiskey and damn-near down it in one swift movement.

When your eyes land on Sukuna again, he’s smirking. He’s not really sure what to make of you nor you of him, but he certainly likes it.

Though you both elect not to have any more alcohol in favor of driving home later, conversation comes easily for the rest of the hour. At least, as easily as it comes for Sukuna.

“Where’d you get your bike?” You ask decidedly, trying to make conversation with the stoic individual.

“A shop up north.”

“Looks like it cost a pretty penny.”

He hums in approval.

That’s about how most conversations with him go, so when you throw your jacket on and insist you should get home, you’re admittedly surprised when he pauses and holds his hand out expectantly.

You stare up at him curiously. Not once had you gotten the impression he was interested in any of your conversations, yet now he wants something from you? You can’t decide what to make of this, what to make of him.

“Sorry, um,” you stare down in confusion at his expectant hand, mouth opening and closing as you try to decide what to say.

“Your phone,” he instructs and your pretty eyes widen as you stare up at him, the difference in stature between you both now incredibly apparent as he dwarfs you when standing over you.

“Oh!” You stare at him with pursed lips and pull your phone out, opening it to your texts. He sends himself a text and hands your phone back wordlessly, before turning his shoulder as he walks out abruptly, leaving you further confused.

Chasing after him, you just barely catch him as he kicks his bike’s stand up and throws his helmet on.

“Thanks again!” You call after him. He glances over his shoulder and though you can’t see his expression behind the dark visor of his helmet, he smirks back at you before driving off.

As you just barely make it back home on your sputtering bike, you manage to replace the fuel line and shoot him a text.

11:53 PM You || fixed the fuel line. thanks again, youre a lifesaver

11:55 PM Sukuna || thanks for the drink.

In all honesty, you figure that’s the last you’ll ever hear from him, but you quickly find out that the cold disposition he gives off isn’t really all there is to him when he asks if you want to go to a bike show a week later.

He fails to mention that his youngest brother Yuji would be joining you for the show, but as you walk the show floor with him and his younger sibling, you realize his brother likely just got all the conversation genes.

Sukuna is still aloof, he doesn't say much to you outside of comments about the bikes and even though he’s the one that invited you, you still can't tell if he enjoys your company. Although he’s quiet, his presence is surprisingly alluring and you're grateful to have someone to listen to your ramblings, even if he doesn't seem interested.

As you walk the length of the convention hall, weaving between crowds of people that seem to part at Sukuna’s menacing figure, Sukuna pauses to look at gorgeous black Yamaha. You barely catch the way he silently stops, managing to point out the pause to Yuji just in time to keep you all from getting separated.

“Don’t think I’ve heard him talk this much in ages,” Yuji comments with a raised brow. You tilt your head towards him, following his gaze to Sukuna.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” the younger man scratches the back of his head. “I don’t have my license yet but I like lookin’ around. He’s usually pretty snippy about which bikes I should be looking at,” he shrugs. “You guys must have a lot in common for him to be so chatty.”

Chatty, you practically scoff to yourself. The man barely said ten sentences to you.

You do notice the way he shoots Yuji a glare or groans about his chatting on occasion, though. Not once does he direct that at you.

Even still, you don't expect him to keep inviting you out. Ten sentences isn’t exactly something to form a friendship on.

Continuing to surprise you, you still hear from him. Next thing you know, you’re invited to ride with him and his brother Choso, invited out to dinner with a group of his friends and he even accepts your invite to see a horror movie with a couple of your friends.

You’re quick to learn that Sukuna is just like that.

Sukuna’s mild and somewhat haughty disposition is something you grow accustomed to as you learn how to talk to him. Though you find yourself talking mostly at him, you realize that’s just how he likes things. He pays a surprising amount of attention to your words, though you don’t tend to notice until he shows it through actions later.

He shows up to your work with takeout on his lunch break when you mention you forgot your lunch. He goes shopping with you despite his distaste for malls when you tell him you need some new clothes. He’s more agreeable when you’re around and his friends are quick to point it out, insisting you need to be there at all times to make him more tolerable, though they’re mostly joking.

He does treat you differently from the rest of his friends. You figure it’s just because your friendship is new, though.

After being invited along on a ride down the highway to a neighboring small town with Sukuna’s friend Uraume and his brother Choso, you eye up Sukuna’s plate. You’d ordered no side with your meal but god his fries look good. You shoot him a curious glance, met with his typical aloof expression, if not one of mild irritation. Glancing again at his fries, you reach over to steal one, pleased when you pop it in your mouth.

Sukuna rolls his eyes at you, muttering under his breath about you ‘being a brat’ and how ‘you should have ordered a side’, but it’s all a show as he lets you steal another one when you smile sweetly at him.

When Choso follows your act, wanting to try the fries as well, Sukuna swats his hand away with a hiss. “My plate isn’t a buffet,” he growls contemptibly. Choso wrinkles his nose, shaking his hand of the harsh slap.

When Sukuna gets up to use the washroom, Choso waits until he’s out of earshot to comment.

“How the hell did you get away with getting some of that asshole’s fries?”

You shrug. “Dunno. He just let me.”

“Grumpy bastard…”

Again, you insist you just don’t know him well and he’s being kind so the action is brushed off.

A week later, Sukuna insists you tag along with his buddy Toji to get drinks, but when you arrive at the meeting spot and pull your helmet off, Sukuna is haughtily arguing with the raven-haired man.

“C’mon, it’s cheap. Their food’s fine.” Toji insists with little more than a raised eyebrow and an unamused sigh.

“What food?” You ask with a smile as you saunter over to the two much taller men.

“Red’s,” Toji responds gruffly, his unamused expression turning to one of intrigue as he realizes you must be Sukuna’s friend. “You must be y/n.”

You grin at him as he smirks.

“Toji,” he introduces himself. “Now can ya tell this asshole that Red’s is cheap?”

Sukuna’s arms are crossed over his chest. “We can do better for cheap.” He all but hisses, his eyes fixed in the distance.

“I’ve never been,” you glance between the two with pursed lips, mentally chuckling to yourself at how much you have to look up to both men. “I think it sounds good.”

Sukuna’s arms fall to his side as his fiery eyes lock on you. He pauses for a moment, sparing a glance at Toji, but those deep eyes return to you with a begrudging sigh as he grumbles something under his breath.

“Fine.”

Toji’s eyes widen as he dangles his keys from his hands, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he fists the keys as he gets ready to get in his car and head to the bar. He pauses before opening the door, a shit-eating grin spread over his scarred lips.

“Think I need ya to tag along more often, y/n.” He catches the tilt of your head and chuckles. “Think ya tame this shithead a bit.”

Sukuna roars something at Toji as he tries to catch him before the door slams and the car speeds off, leaving you giggling at the interaction.

Toji’s not the last to point it out, either.

You don’t think much of it, though. Sukuna just shows he cares through his actions and that’s how you come to know him as your best friend.

Sukuna is, of course, smitten with you. He adores how perfectly you seem to understand him. He loves the way you invite him along to everything with your friends despite his tendencies to scare others off. He loves that in spite of the trouble he gets himself into, your opinion of him never changes. He loves that you text him about stupid things, and that even when his response is inhospitable, you continue to text him like you would any other friend.

Because you’re his best friend. And he won’t admit it to anyone, but you know. He knows you know.

You get him. 

So of course when you excitedly text him about your date, you have no way of knowing that his naturally cold responses are no longer his usual tone. They’re frigid, maybe even mildly snarky, but over text you don’t see the way his brow is knit tightly in contempt.

When he meets your boyfriend for the first time, you notice the strange tension between your best friend and partner. Your boyfriend brings it up but you had warned him in advance that Sukuna comes across that way, so you brush it off as little more than Sukuna being himself.

Yet, you notice the little things. You’ve known Sukuna for a long time now. You notice the way his jaw tightens when he sees your boyfriend lean down to kiss you at a dinner for your birthday a year into your relationship. You tilt your head questioningly at him from across the table, a silent query, but he doesn’t give you a response, that mild expression never once leaving his eyes as he leans back in his seat.

“Kuna?” Your sweet voice pulls his attention down to you when you pull him aside as everyone is saying goodnight outside the restaurant. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

You cock your brow at his flippant response, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “I know you well enough to know you’re lying,” you insist with an expectant look.

God, that look makes his hardened expression falter. Sukuna is well aware that he’s unapproachable, scary even. His form is built and he towers over most everyone, not to mention his constant disinterested expression and the tattoos he sports.

You often tease him for his ‘resting bitch face’.

Yet here you are, hand on your hip, so small and sweet, a fire lit behind those gorgeous eyes of yours. Cute.

“It’s just been a long day, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He knows you don’t believe him, but it’s the best you’re getting and you know that as well as he does. Hurt flashes through your eyes and he does feel a pang of guilt, but he keeps it locked away as he sighs and pulls something from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Your wide eyes look up at him in shock. You’d insisted no one should get you a gift, but when you texted him this morning and told him your boyfriend, so cheerily talking to your friends behind the two of you, had forgotten your birthday, he couldn’t leave you empty-handed in that way.

You gingerly reach out and take the box from him. You know what it is instantly and the way your cheeks redden, the way it shocks you to silence has him smirking, mostly to himself. His hands remain in his pockets, his unamused expression locked on your hands that hesitate as you slowly open the velveteen box.

Lying so beautifully strewn in the box is a necklace you pointed out to him when you’d gone shopping together what must have been years ago now. A gorgeous silver chain lays delicately holding a dainty bejeweled star with your birthstone in the center. Of course he’d been paying attention. He always does.

“You didn’t,” it’s all you can manage as you stare at it in disbelief. To your surprise, Sukuna is smiling softly down at you, a rare sight that you want to burn into your retinas.

“You deserve a good birthday.”

You know it’s a dig at your boyfriend, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Maybe that should be a sign, but you’re too caught up in the moment as tears brim your eyes.

“This was so expensive though, I- I- can’t-”

“You can and you will.”

You know when Sukuna demands something, he means it. This is one of those times.

Tears threatening to spill, you wrap your arms tightly around his toned middle. If he weren’t a giant in comparison to you, you might have bowled him over with the force you hug him with.

Sukuna relishes in the moment, memorizing the feeling of your body in his arms, the way you bury your head into his chest, hiding your tears in his hug as they inevitably stain his white V-neck, but he doesn’t care. His arms wrap tightly around you, one of the rare times he returns one of your affections.

When you part from him, using your free hand to wipe your eyes, Sukuna takes the box from you, moving to put the necklace on with ease. He moves like every action he takes is practiced as he confidently clasps the necklace around your neck.

“It’s beautiful,” you hum as you look down at it, running a delicate finger over the pendant.

The salmon-haired man hums mildly. “‘Course. You chose it.”

You examine his eyes, your expression unreadable as you contemplate Sukuna’s actions.

He may be agreeable around you, he may be willing to make compromises with you that he won’t for others, but this is new for him. This is sweet, and he knows you’re thinking such a thing too when he meets those pretty eyes staring up at him. He doesn’t care anymore, though.

He wants you to be happy.

When your boyfriend confronts you about the necklace later that night, you tell him the truth. Maybe you hope he’ll realize he fucked up. Maybe you hope he’ll right his wrongs.

Instead, you end up in an argument as your boyfriend insists that his mistake in forgetting the date was honest but that Sukuna overstepped boundaries.

Maybe your best friend did, in truth.

And so as your boyfriend snaps when you defend your best friend and the argument takes a turn for the worse, maybe it shouldn’t be that same best friend that you turn to. Maybe that will just make things worse.

But the phone only rings twice before he picks up.

He sounds tired, his voice coated in sluggish exhaustion as he mumbles a ‘hello’ on the other line. You hear the rustling of sheets on the other end, a pang of guilt clawing at your throat as you know you’ve woken him up.

“Kuna?” The tone of your voice is foreign to him. Meek, strained. Even earlier in the night when you had confronted him about his cold disposition, your tone still held that unwavering strength and fire that he loves about you, so this wakes him up.

Leaning up on his elbow in bed, he squints at his phone.

“It’s three in the morning, y/n.”

“I know.” You pause and Sukuna waits for you to explain. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s listening. “We got into a fight.”

Sukuna sighs, full of disdain, though not towards you. Never towards you.

“You safe?” His voice is surprisingly soft, though you chalk it up to him being tired.

You nod, before realizing he can’t see you. “... yeah.”

He hears you sniffle on the other end of the line and has to physically resist the urge to say things he’ll regret about your boyfriend. “Right. ‘M on my way. Stay put.”

He hangs up, wasting no time in throwing on a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black V-neck. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, although it doesn’t do him any favors and he isn’t about to waste time styling it. As it stands, you’ve seen him in a worse state after some particularly wild nights that had ended with one of you on the other’s couch.

His bike roars to life outside his apartment and he’s off into the cold night air, barely grazing his skin as his leather jacket and helmet protect him from the bite. He pushes the limits of his bike and of the road as he speeds past any cars he comes across on the short drive to your house, and he’s glad he did when he spots you on your front doorstep, head in your hands in little more than pajama shorts and a tank top.

He’s off his bike in an instant, shaking his head as he takes his helmet off in an effort to fix his hair before he kneels in front of you.

You’re relieved at the sight of him, clearly fresh out of bed and having hurried right over. Your knight in shining armor. Or at least a shiny red helmet.

His brow furrows as he looks you over, spotting the goosebumps that litter your bare legs and arms. 

“Shit,” he mutters as he rolls his shoulders and shrugs his leather jacket off, wrapping it around you. It engulfs your figure almost entirely, draping over you like a dress. If the situation was any different he would think it’s adorable.

You look up at him between long, wet lashes, fresh tears streaking down your makeup-stained cheeks. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying and you’re sure your exhaustion and defeat are written across your face in bright bold lettering by the way he frowns.

“Did he kick you out?”

“It’s a long story,” you mutter, just barely audible.

“I got time.”

There’s a note of contempt that floats between his words and you know just as well as he does that he’s resisting the urge to beat down your door and knock some sense into your boyfriend.

Your mouth opens then closes enough times that Sukuna grows impatient, muscles in his jaw clenching as he grows closer and closer to busting down your door when you finally find words.

“We’ve been fighting on and off since we got home,” you admit. Sukuna raises a brow. That was four hours ago. “He was pissed about- about-” you stammer over your words, biting your lip as you fiddle with the necklace that sits beautifully around your neck. Beautiful like you.

“Me,” Sukuna dryly finishes your sentence.

You frown and he knows he’s right. Of course. Maybe the necklace was overstepping this time, but he’d watched your shitty boyfriend step on you more times than he could count and hadn’t once said a word. He respected you and your fiery demeanor entirely too much to ever want to see you upset.

Yet no matter what path he chose, it seemed you would be upset regardless.

“He took my phone and went through everything,” you clear your throat as your voice cracks mid-sentence, staring down at the phone in your hands. The screen is cracked and Sukuna isn’t sure if he wants to know whether it was shattered before today or not.

Your words set him ablaze in anger. It burns like an itch on his skin and it takes every last ounce of self control that he has to hold himself back and just listen. The contrasting cold air is nice on his skin, soothing what little fury it's able to with its brisk touch.

“Do you remember that photo we took together on Halloween?”

Sukuna nods slowly. He knows exactly where this is going. It was well over a year ago, before you’d started dating your boyfriend, when you had convinced Sukuna to dress as a king and you his queen. He’d had a surprising amount of fun with it and with enough alcohol flowing through his veins, his words had grown more frivolous. He’d spent all night calling you his queen or his princess, pretty much until the moment he’d thrown up, the words ejecting from his dialect along with the alcohol. Regardless, the proof was in the texts between you from that night.

At some point in the night, you’d gotten a photo taken clinging to his shoulders, a calm smile on Sukuna’s lips as he’d carried you with ease. It made him smirk the following morning recalling the memory, glad it hadn’t disappeared with the words or alcohol.

Regardless, he’d missed his chance to shoot his shot, growing too accustomed to having you around to consider you didn’t see his change in attitude around you as anything more than friendly, so he’d retreated to his usual detached self.

Clearly that detachment wasn’t enough for your boyfriend as you flip him your phone screen. So it is newly broken.

God give Sukuna the strength to sit still.

“And you’re outside now, why?”

“I felt sick, I needed air.” You shrug, fiddling with your phone in your lap. “He got mad that I walked away and we ended up fighting again, then he slammed the door in my face.”

“He kicked you out,” Sukuna states matter of factly, venom dripping from each and every word.

“He locked me out,” you shrug again, but Sukuna doesn’t care for the details. You have no keys, not to your bike or your house, no jacket, you’re in shorts and a tank top… jesus.

“What a fucking prick.” With that, he’s on his feet and you know he’s about to slam his fist on your door. Or through it. Sukuna may be kind with you but the bad boy persona he sports isn’t a persona at all- Sukuna would not hesitate to knock your boyfriend clean out. He’d been to jail before, one more time wasn’t a big deal if it meant keeping you safe.

“Kuna.” He pauses at the plain tone you say his name in. It’s not a warning, it’s not scolding. He doesn’t know what to make of it. “Not now.”

He huffs and clicks his tongue. His jaw clenches as his shrunken, furious pupils stare down at you, but when he notices your legs are shaking from the cold, he relents.

“Fine.” The word is grumbled as his hands reach for your waist and lift you to your feet with little more than a hum when you’re standing at your full height, barely reaching his broad shoulders. He leaves a hand on the small of your back, setting his helmet over your head and zipping his jacket up over your small frame in an effort to keep you safe when you climb onto the back of his bike.

Sukuna glances back at you as you cling to his toned abdomen, his bike pulling away quickly. Riding with Sukuna is familiar. Though you normally follow him, his quick riding pace and not-entirely-legal maneuvers don’t scare you the way they once did, because everything Sukuna does feels practiced, rehearsed.

Pulling into his apartment building, he pulls the bike into a parking spot and lets you hand him the helmet as you follow him up to his apartment.

It’s a bit of a mess, dishes sit in the sink, empty bottles and cans littering the counter and a garbage bag sits at the door, but it doesn’t matter because you’re warm and you’re safe and it’s not like he’d let you take the couch anyway given the current situation.

Sukuna moves to at least tidy the couch, fully expecting you to make yourself at home like you always do, but when he turns to see you’re staring at the ground in the entrance, his jacket wrapped around you like a blanket, he frowns. That’s not like you.

In fact, in all the years you two have known one another, Sukuna’s never seen you so spaced out.

“Did he hurt you?”

It’s his best guess as to why you’re so out of it, but when you shake your head, he’s simply at a loss.

Sukuna doesn’t do comfort. He’ll watch your favorite movies with you and make you food, but he doesn’t do words of comfort. He’s a man of action, and although the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on is standing in his apartment, he doesn’t dare to act on the stray thoughts running through his mind, even though he knows you deserve to be treated right.

Coming to stand in front of you, he sighs.

“Whaddya want me to do?”

Anyone else would assume he’s irritated with your presence, but you know it’s a genuine question. Your friend doesn’t know what you need and he’s trying his best to figure it out. He’s trying to help.

“Can I have a blanket?” You ask him, shoulders hunched in exhaustion.

There’s silence in the apartment as Sukuna moves to his bedroom to grab a blanket.

“The red one please!” You call after him as though that isn’t the one he’s already grabbing. He knows your favorite.

Returning to you, he drops the red blanket in your arms, his heart twisting as you pull his jacket off and hand it to him in exchange.

“Can I, um, come in?”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow questioningly, subconsciously fiddling with the tongue piercing in his mouth. Not once have you ever asked him to come in. You always, always, made yourself at home, even though it was much to his dismay the first few times you’d let yourself into his apartment in spite of his grumbles and irritated huffs.

Sukuna’s reaction is all the permission you need as you realize he must find the whole situation strange, but everything feels foreign to you. It’s not like you haven’t stayed at Sukuna’s before, it’s not like the couch isn’t your second bed, it’s that you feel like you’re betraying your boyfriend by being here.

Not that Sukuna would do anything anyway, you know he doesn’t see you in such a way. You may be his closest friend but he’s never once shown any sort of other interest towards you. Even if he did see you that way, he’s just not that kind of person.

Still, you gingerly sit at the edge of the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping yourself in the massive blanket. Sukuna moves to sit beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He looks at you expectantly, waiting to see what you want to do, if you want to talk.

But you don’t answer, and Sukuna is at a loss of what to do. A contemplative silence settles over you as he leans his head back against the couch, eyeing you and hoping you’ll say something.

“Can I ask you something, Ryo?”

The use of the nickname he lets only you call him quirks his brow as he realizes you’re serious.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

That’s… not what the gruff man was expecting to hear.

His jaw tightens as his piercing eyes stare down at you. He rubs a hand over his face as he tries to make sense of the question, too tired to be thinking this deeply over something. He stares at you pensively as though the world rests on this one response.

“Yeah. You’re pretty.”

Your eyes fall to your knees and the way Sukuna’s head tilts, you’re sure he thinks he’s made a mistake.

“Thanks, Kuna.”

“The fuck did that prick say to you that has ya askin’?”

You hesitate, avoiding his discerning eyes as Sukuna’s chest surges with anger. Your best friend’s fist clenches in his lap as he leans forward, examining your expression.

“What the fuck did he say?” Sukuna’s voice is monstrous, but you could never fear his anger knowing he’s never once directed it your way. You know he’s irritated you haven’t answered yet, but even between his irritation and the gruff tone he uses, he could never scare you.

“He told me I couldn’t do better than him.”

“And?” Sukuna pushes demandingly, his fingers clasping the back of his couch so hard you wonder if he has the strength to crush it.

“That he’s way out of my league and should have chosen…” you trail off, not oblivious to the way Sukuna quirks a brow for you to continue. When you meekly whisper your friend’s name, Sukuna’s seething.

Fury practically drifts from his body like smoke and to your surprise you do hear the couch creak beneath his hand.

You’ve only ever seen Sukuna this angry once before.

Sukuna’s closest friend aside from you, Uraume, often accompanied you on your trips to the bar with Sukuna and would join in on your rides with their own bike. The two of them were two peas in a pod, similar in all the ways you weren’t, but if anything it made you closer to Uraume for having an understanding of Sukuna.

For that exact reason, you’d spotted Uraume’s discomfort a mile away when someone began hitting on them. Uraume could handle themself, so you didn’t think much of it until the man’s hand was tightly gripping Uraume’s arm.

Alarmed, you pointed out Uraume’s discomfort to your drunk best friend and he didn’t hesitate to clock the man hitting on them.

So when Sukuna is on his feet with a familiar rage brewing and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, you know you have to calm him down before you’re bailing him out of jail again. It’s not something you want to make a habit of.

“Kuna, it’s okay.”

“No!” He hisses, swinging his hand through the air as he stares at the door.

“Please, I’ll be okay, I promise,” you try to insist, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“It’s not okay for him to say shit like that to you,” he growls, glowering from where he stands over you, eyes on the door. He wants to leave, you know he does.

“It’s not, I know, but it’s not your problem.”

“Not my- What the fuck don’t you get?”

Your eyes widen at Sukuna’s question. His voice is frigid as ever, but for once you feel the shards of ice pricking your skin.

“What?” Your dumbfounded and hurt question hangs in the air momentarily as you try to process this outburst.

Sukuna’s scarred eye twitches as he runs his tongue over his teeth. He huffs out a breath as he sees your expression, forcing himself to calm down so as not to make this about him. He doesn’t want to say something he regrets, and he certainly doesn’t want that icy tone to be directed at you, ever again.

“He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

Your shoulders fall at his words, his chest heaving as he stares at you with an unidentifiable emotion.

“Where’s this coming from?” Your brow knits tightly over the bridge of your nose. As you subconsciously chew on your lower lip, Sukuna has to do everything in his power not to stare at your lips.

“Look, I just care, alright? Or somethin’.”

You barely know how to react to your best friend’s admission of care for you. Not once has he ever shown an ounce of his care through words. Sure, he’s shown it in other ways, but this is a first for him.

His gaze is fixed on the kitchen, so he barely notices when you stand up and set your hand on his arm, your thumb comfortingly rubbing his arm.

“I appreciate it, Kuna.” You tell him with a tired smile, doing your best to reassure him that you’re okay in spite of the situation. “Just… can we please just watch a movie or something?” You’re too tired, too worn out to handle everything going on right now and you’re afraid the buildup of emotions in your chest will overflow if you don’t distract yourself soon.

Sukuna’s focus fixes on your hand on his arm, the way it seems to burn into him in a way he’d long grown painfully familiar with. It wasn’t uncommon for you to grab his arm and drag him somewhere, or hug him each time you said hello. Hell, the Halloween you’d both gotten entirely too drunk, you’d been on Sukuna’s back half of the night giggling and telling him, your King, where to take you.

Yet this time, the burn hurts. It hurts him to see you here with dried tears on your cheeks. It angers him to know your boyfriend had gotten away with treating you in such a way for so long.

He lets out a breath through his nose and takes a seat on the couch again at your insistence, watching as you drape the big blanket over the both of you. And god is it cute when you do, making sure he’s completely covered from the waist down like you’re tucking him in.

When you lean back against the arm of the couch, slinking comfortably back into the cushions and grab the remote, Sukuna feels his body begin to relax too, allowing himself to focus on your wellbeing here and now rather than the fact that he wants to pummel your boyfriend.

He’s not shocked when you flip through options and eventually settle on a Studio Ghibli movie he knows you’ve seen a million times because he’s seen it one too many times.

You know he doesn’t mind although he isn’t the biggest fan of the movie. Either way, it’s nearly five in the morning and you both know you’ll be asleep before you know it.

–

The next morning as cool air pours through a window and birdsong decorates each blow of the breeze, the pounding of your head is a rude awakening. It’s too early for you to be up given that you were awake so late, but your phone seems to think otherwise.

Your eyes flicker open blearily, and you lean up in bed with a yawn, realizing suddenly that you’re in Sukuna’s room and he’s nowhere to be found. Sitting up fully, you bring a hand up to your temple, pressing on it in an effort to ease the pain as you search for your phone, finding it eventually on the floor a small distance away.

Hopping down from the tall mattress, you yawn as you stare at the screen, your heart clenching at the sight of the contact photo on-screen as your phone rings. Your boyfriend has his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both grin. With the way your screen is now shattered, it looks almost like a scene from a movie in the way it’s practically screaming a warning at you.

You’d spent far too much time alone with your thoughts the previous night. Hell, even with Sukuna’s comfort, his disdain for your boyfriend had been a bit of a wakeup call. Still, your thumb hovers over the green button.

“Hello?” Your voice is broken as you answer the phone.

“Thank god baby, I was so worried about you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you outside last night, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

You take a couple of steps forward, walking towards the living room as your eyes lock onto the tall man draped over the couch, his limbs entirely too long for the cushions. He must have carried you to his bed at some point and taken the couch.

Your stomach twists as you realize your boyfriend’s words are all lost on you, you didn’t hear a single one. You’re not sure when you tuned him out, or how long you’ve been staring at Sukuna when your boyfriend’s words pull you from your thoughts.

“Y/n? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it. What did you say?”

He sighs in frustration on the other side of the line and you wince as his tone gains a familiar edge. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you so we can talk.”

“I- um-” you pause, brow furrowing as you stare at your best friend, who begins to shuffle from his uncomfortable position on the couch as your soft voice awakens him from slumber.

“Y/n?” Your boyfriend’s voice cuts through the haze again, but you’re at a loss for words as Sukuna lifts his head, irritation written across his face at being awake, but when he flips over on the couch and spots you, his demeanor softens.

“Yeah. You’re pretty.”

Sukuna’s words ring in your head over and over and you bite your lip. He pushes himself up on the couch, moving to stand a small distance in front of you in three long strides.

Sukuna may not have a way with words, but you never had a hard time telling what he was thinking just by the way he looks at you. As he stares down at you with a tilt of his head, you know exactly what’s going through his mind.

Like that, it all clicks. Of course he hated your boyfriend. The signs were always there, you just didn’t pay them any mind. The reason he was colder than usual towards your boyfriend is as obvious as the sun in the sky.

Sukuna thinks you’re pretty. He wasn’t trying to comfort you when he said that. That’s not who Sukuna is. That may as well be an admission that he would move mountains for you.

“Y/n, baby? What’s going on? I want you home, now.”

Your chest twists at his tone and as your eyes meet Sukuna’s, you wonder if your phone is loud enough for him to hear when his lip twitches.

You clear your throat, your eyes never once leaving Sukuna’s from where he stands with tousled hair, wrinkled sweatpants and a bare chest. It’s not unfamiliar to you, you know Sukuna is beyond hot. You know Sukuna could take anyone he wants home and you know he has a streak of doing so, but now that you think about it, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen Sukuna with anyone, and you know why now.

“You left me outside all night in the cold.” Your voice is meek, still mindlessly chewing on your lip as you stare at the tattooed man’s eyes, now lit ablaze with a fire that hadn’t been there earlier. “You know what- I should go.”

“What? Baby, come on we need to talk-”

“I have nothing to talk to you about. We’re-” You pause, your stomach stirring uncomfortably as all of your emotions seem to collide and collapse within you. You feel the tears that threaten to spill, your composure that threatens to break as you ball your hand into a fist at your side.

Sukuna’s hand twitches beside him as he does everything in his power not to lean down and kiss you then and there. He wants you. He wants all of you. He wants to show your boyfriend everything he’s about to lose.

He wants to make you his. He wants you to make him yours.

Yet, all he can reasonably do is set a hand on your upper arm. He can’t be selfish. Not when you’ve come to him in your time of need.

“We’re done.”

“Nonono, we are not done, hold on-”

“I’ll come grab my bike and my things soon-”

“-let’s talk about this, I just made a mistake, okay-”

“-goodbye.”

“Don’t hang up, baby, hold on, fuck-”

Your hand falls to your side as you stare up at the taller man.

He doesn’t say a word as a tear runs down your cheek, shortly followed by a sob wracking your body. Sukuna’s hand moves from your arm to the back of your head as he pulls you into his chest, holding you there as you cry against his bare skin, tears wetting his toned pecs.

It’s not his ideal morning, but at least he can shamelessly say now that he wants to rearrange your boyfriend’s face with his fist.

He won’t say it anyway, though. He knows better.

Your best friend doesn’t say anything but his actions speak volumes as he holds you to him protectively, unmoving as he envelops you into his form. He exhales deeply as he holds you tightly to his body, his fingers gripping you tightly. It’s reassuring to know you have him in your time of need and eventually your tears begin to subside.

You blink your wet lashes against his skin as your warm breath fans his chest and abdomen. He shoots you a disgruntled look as your lashes tickle his skin and he jolts at the feeling.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns through gritted teeth, but it holds no malice.

You chuckle through tears. “Sorry, Ryo.”

He rolls his shoulders and holds you again, letting your face fall against his chest once more. This time, you’re careful to keep your eyes closed to avoid tickling him.

He’s surprisingly patient with you as he lets you stand there, only moving to take and silence your phone when he grows frustrated with the vibration.

When you finally settle, he leads you back to the couch, tossing his shirt and the blanket off the couch and onto the floor.

“Did you move me to the bed?”

He hums affirmatively, his chest warming as you smile at him. “Thanks, I could have taken the couch though. It looked a bit too small for y-”

“No.”

You breathe out through your nose in a half-hearted laugh. There’s never any use arguing with him when he’s made up his mind, so you give it up. Oh well.

“Can I stay here for a bit?”

You figure Sukuna will huff and puff and make a show out of it but he nods easily.

“Thanks,” you sigh, sinking back into the couch.

You stare at the ceiling. What a morning. You’ve barely been awake for ten minutes and your heart is pounding in your chest just from sitting beside your best friend, someone you’ve known for years.

Someone you’d long pushed any attraction for down into the depths of your heart in an effort to save yourself the heartbreak of being with someone who seemed to have no interest in you. Hell, you’d once thought he was emotionally unavailable, and yet…?

You can’t help but stare.

He’s exhausted, you’re not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stay awake as his head bobs down onto the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar as sleep settles over his form. You smile softly at the sight, swallowing at the yearning feeling of wanting to settle into his warmth, though you know you shouldn’t.

You’re a mess. You’ve heard your boyfriend- ex- say things you aren’t ready to admit to yourself that leave fresh stinging wounds. Hell, that’s an entire can of worms you don’t want to touch right now. Your belongings, your bike, your entire life is all trapped in his house, in the house of someone that-

God why had you let him step all over you like that? It leaves you frowning as your heart twists and clenches uncomfortably. You loved him. Deep down, you know it’s the reason. You convinced yourself he loved you too.

You curse yourself for overlooking your feelings for Sukuna, for pushing them down. He’d always cared deeply for you, the signs had always been there, yet you never paid them any mind.

Chewing on your lower lip again, you get to your feet and grab the blanket off the floor, draping it over him. Your thumb brushes over the faded black lines that race over his shoulders and down his collar bones as you tuck the blanket over his shoulders.

He hums subconsciously, a serene smile pulling at his lips.

You smile back, turning to get some rest yourself. When Sukuna kicks his foot out suddenly and damn-near trips you, you let out a surprised yelp, spinning around to confront him.

“What the hell, Kuna?” You harshly snarl at him.

His lidded eyes just barely open, your reaction earning a smirk from him. There’s his feisty best friend.

“C’mere, it’s cold.”

It’s not cold, and Ryomen Sukuna is not sly, but your stomach flutters and your heart jumps to your throat anyway. Your shoulders fall to your sides in surprise, unable to be frustrated with him.

He flips the blanket up, his arm extended over the back of the couch. His expression is mild as usual but when you take him up on his offer and plop down next to him, his racing heart tells you everything you need to know.

Pulling your knees up onto the couch, you let him pull you against is chest, your head resting on his broad shoulder as he barely lasts a minute before the rhythm of his breathing steadies and his head falls back on the couch again.

You’re not long for the world of the waking either as you succumb to the temptation of sleep on his warm chest.

When your eyes flicker open again, your head has fallen into Sukuna’s lap and he’s splayed in what looks like an uncomfortable position with his arm and leg hanging off the couch. His head is still leaned back against the back of the couch with his mouth hanging open as soft snores part his lips.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him asleep. You’ve spent many hungover mornings at his apartment and vice versa but now in the gentle morning light with the distant sound of birdsong as the only noise disturbing his snores, he looks peaceful.

You shuffle on his lap in an effort to get a better look at his serene expression, but his strained groan suggests that you may have awoken him earlier than he would have liked.

“Can ya cut that out?” He grumbles without opening his eyes as he reaches down and adjusts your head to lay more on his abdomen.

The irritation in his voice doesn’t hold a candle to the sincerity in which his arm now cradles you against him and you giggle, to which he opens an eye to observe you.

“Sorry,” you hum. He exhales as he closes his eyes again, sliding further down on the couch.

You lay in bliss on his toned and horribly attractive bare chest for what only feels like a few minutes before his eyes peel open and he’s drinking in the sight of you, his gorgeous best friend, smiling at him from his chest.

And oh my god, Ryomen Sukuna is blushing.

Would you really be his best friend if you didn’t point it out?

“Kuna?”

“Hm?”

“You a lil flustered?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows deeply. “I am not.”

“You’re blushing.”

“It’s warm in here, you’re laying on top of me and we have a blanket,” he refutes with an edge to his voice that tells you that you’re poking a nerve.

You also know him well enough to know it’s faux anger, playful if anything.

“Funny, I was told it was cold a couple of hours ago.”

His lip curls, chest rising and falling beneath you as he huffs. “You push my buttons.” You can see from the way a muscle in his jaw works that he’s fiddling with his tongue piercing.

“I could push more than just your buttons,” your voice drips with confidence, lowering an octave at the implication. You pull a hand out from beneath your chin, running a dainty finger across the length of his collar bone.

Sukuna’s pupils dilate in an instant, his attention drawn to your finger. He swallows hard, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk. All signs of his contempt forgotten, warmth swirls in those gorgeous eyes of his, but the smirk on his lips is devilish.

“Careful, princess,” he warns in a gruff voice that has you clenching your thighs together with wide eyes. Sukuna’s brow twitches as he feels your legs shuffle, entirely too happy with himself at getting such a reaction from you all from two words. He chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you as you hide your face in his chest, heat radiating from your cheeks.

Tension is ripe in the air between you both when you finally meet Sukuna’s intense gaze and it makes a question pop into your mind.

“How long?” The words are blurted out and Sukuna shifts beneath you to get a better view.

“What are you on about?”

“How long have you liked me?”

Sukuna’s scoff hits the air before he can even register he’s made the noise. “Go get ready or whatever so we can pick up your shit.” His brow is pulled into a tight scowl as he all but shoves you to the ground.

You barely manage to catch yourself before falling on your ass, rolling your eyes as you steady yourself.

“Kuuuna!” You coo with a grin, but before you have a chance to tease him any further, Sukuna lunges at you. “Wait, wait-”

You shriek in protest as he barrels into your legs, effortlessly lifting you over his shoulder. He pays no mind to any of your protests, nor your kicking and squirming against him as he dumps you with little grace on his bed.

“What-”

“Stop complainin’ and go change or shower or whatever y’ gotta do. I want your bike back.”

Sitting up as you attempt to reorient yourself, you blink a couple of times and manage to call his name out just before he’s turning away.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you tell him, staring down at your pajamas.

“You’ve been leaving shit here for years, find something in my closet.”

“Have I?” You wonder aloud, suddenly realizing your hungover mornings passed in his apartment are likely the culprit for many missing outfits. “Wait, why do you want my bike back?” You realize suddenly, but he’s already shutting the door to his room and leaving you in tranquility.

Standing in the silence broken only by distant birdsong and the muffled sounds of traffic, you find your gaze lingering on the door where he once stood.

How long? You wonder to yourself. How many signs, how many signals had you missed or brushed off all these years under the assumption that your grumpy best friend was just that- your best friend?

You set a hand over your fast-beating heart, trying to steady the pace it’s beating at as emotions run rampant through you. Between the shock of realization of Sukuna’s feelings and the shitty night you’d had- your birthday, by the way- you can’t help the shaky exhale that parts your lips.

It’s a lot to take in.

You take your time showering, enjoying the way the warm water rinses away all signs of the prior night. It’s a warm respite from the days that are beginning to grow frosty as winter approaches. Most importantly, the white noise of the water falling drowns out the steady stream of jumbled thoughts flowing like a river through your mind.

Perusing Sukuna’s closet, you do manage to find more of your clothes than you had expected.

“My nice leggings were here the whole time?” You mutter to yourself as you pull them from a pile of pants. Along with them, you manage to find a pair of jeans, more shirts than you’d care to admit, an old jacket and a hoodie.

Pulling on a form-fitting black low-cut shirt and a red leather jacket, you poke your head out of the bedroom door.

“Why’d you never give any of this back?”

Sukuna’s leaning out the window with a cigarette held between two fingers. He blows a puff of smoke out into the cool fall air before turning to you. He’s still in his sweatpants but has pulled his shirt on.

“I used to bring ‘em back to your place when I visited but they always ended up back on my couch,” he shrugs simply. “Wasn’t worth the time.”

“I didn’t know it was this much clothing.”

“Your memory’s shit.”

“Ouch,” you hold a hand to your heart, feigning being hurt.

He stubs out the cigarette, waving the smoke out the window with his arm before shutting it. “Done in there?”

You nod and exchange places with Sukuna as he showers. He takes less than a quarter of the time you did and is out with the most effortlessly cool style that you can’t help but be jealous of him.

His typical black leather jacket hangs off his shoulders with a vintage Harley Davidson shirt beneath. He sports ripped jeans on his lower half and blackout shades sit atop his spiked pink hair.

“See something you like?”

You barely manage to utter out a pathetic ‘uh’ before Sukuna’s chuckling at you as he catches you eyeing him from your place on the couch. He makes his way around the couch, patting your shoulder encouragingly.

“Let’s go.”

Shaking your head to clear your mind, you get to your feet and follow Sukuna to the door, stopping him before he can leave.

“Hey. Can you stay on the sidewalk while I talk to him?”

The tall man pauses at your serious tone, examining your expression. “Why?”

You know why he’s asking.

“I’m serious, Ryo. I don’t want you two fighting.”

“He treated you like shit, y/n.”

“I- I know.”

His jaw clenches. “The piece of shit deserves-”

“I know, okay? Please, this is what I’m trying to prevent. Besides, if you get into trouble, I’ll leave your ass in jail this time.”

His head falls back, eyes closed as he comes to terms with just how serious you are. He rolls his shoulders backwards once before nodding. “Whatever, fine.” His tone drips with exasperation and anger and you can only hope at this point that he means what he says.

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, falling into place beside him as he leads the way down to his bike.

Though you rode behind him less than twelve hours ago, somehow it feels different today as he places his helmet on you and pulls you tight to his broad form. His feisty little backpack, so cute in his helmet. He’s not oblivious to the way your hands roam his abs either as a smirk pulls at his features. It’s a sweet momentary distraction from his searing anger.

It takes every ounce of self control that Sukuna has to stay at his bike as he watches you ring the doorbell of your own house. Thank god for the cold air keeping his anger from simmering through his skin. He’s sure he’d be a pile of molten anger otherwise.

You shuffle uncomfortably at the doorstep, knowing entirely too well that this is going to go poorly. You were practically asking for a fight by showing up with Sukuna but what better option do you have? Your wallet and keys are still sitting soundly on the nightstand of the bed you’d spent the last several months sleeping in. At least, that’s where they should be.

It takes a moment before the door creaks open, your ex’s surprised wide eyes staring back at you.

“Shit, thank god you’re home-”

You barely manage to duck from his grasp as he attempts to pull you into his embrace. Your heart pounds hard in your chest as you face your ex, whose face contorts to one of pain when you duck away from him.

“I told you-” You mentally curse yourself as your voice breaks. Closing your eyes, you readjust and face your ex with confidence. “We’re done.”

“We need to talk,” he insists, his voice sickeningly sweet, and it almost makes you want to gag the way he swings between sweet nothings and manipulative cords that twist your heart.

“We talked for four hours last night. There’s nothing left to talk about!” You swing a hand through the air for emphasis as your voice rises, staring at him in disbelief. “Just let me in, I need my keys and-”

His arm swings out to block the door, knuckles white as he grips the frame of the door. His brow curls upwards in… frustration? Irritation? Anger? Pain? You’re not sure. “This is your home. You belong with me.”

You swallow the bile in your throat like a stone straight to the pit of your stomach. Once words like that would have made you swoon, now you feel as though you’re a deer in the headlights staring at a man you don’t recognize. A man who holds the barrel of a metaphorical gun.

You spare a glance behind you for reassurance, spotting Sukuna sitting at his bike. If it’s possible for a man to have smoke spewing from his ears, Sukuna is the spitting image of such a thing. His face is red with anger, hands clenched at either side of his body as he tries desperately to hold himself back.

He still remembers the way you excitedly told him about your new boyfriend. About how sweet he was, how kind he was. Although it pained him to know it was someone else making you happy, he was just glad you were happy. But when you had invited him to meet your boyfriend, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel as though the man didn’t match your description.

He’d tried to convince himself he was just being jealous, but the more time he spent around you, the more he noticed.

The last straw for Sukuna was when you had invited him, your boyfriend, and some of your closest friends along to see the latest installment in the Predator franchise. You’d stopped for dinner first and your boyfriend had insisted on ordering for you.

Sukuna hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but he had found it strange when a salad had been set in front of you. Not once had Sukuna ever seen you order a salad. Well, he had, but as a side. Never as the entire meal.

He’d tried to brush it off but when you’d decided on popcorn at the movie and your boyfriend had insisted you didn’t need it, Sukuna made a point of ordering a large one and sharing it with you.

Now as you look back at him uncertainly, every bone in Sukuna’s body screams to move. Yet his brain tells him to listen to you. He takes a breath in an effort to stay calm, deciding to respect your wishes.

“You brought him here?” Your ex pales as he follows your line of sight.

That seems to give you the confidence to face him again as anger sears through your blood. “You left me outside alone! He came to get me!” You search his face for any sign of remorse. When you don’t find it, tears prick at your eyes. Over a year spent together and he can’t even show you an ounce of kindness.

“I told you baby, it was a mistake!”

“No- No. No, a mistake is forgetting to turn off the sink, not leaving me outside in the cold with nothing but a broken phone.” Your voice drips with venom as the cold of the previous night envelops you in its memory, a reminder that this is for the best.

“Your phone isn’t broken, get over it y/n.” You glance down at his fist as it balls at his side.

“You shattered it.” You deadpan.

“Can we forget about the phone? For fuck’s sake.” He lifts his fist in the air to bring it up to his forehead as he attempts to calm himself down. “Look-” he shoots Sukuna a glance before smiling, his voice growing honeyed. “We’ll figure things out, okay? Why don’t you come in?”

You hesitate. You see the red flags as clear as day now that the fog has lifted, and you know Sukuna is grateful when you pleadingly look at him. His signal to come beat the shit out of your ex. Well, no, it isn’t. But he wishes it was.

Regardless, he’s up the front lawn to the door of the small house in an instant, standing behind you with all the self-control he can physically muster.

“We’re having a private conversation, would you mind-”

“Whatever you can say in front of me, you can say in front of him.” You insist, backing into Sukuna as your ex reaches for your arm. You’re thankful in this moment that your closest friend is nearly seven feet and built like a brick wall as it could never really matter who he’s up against, he’ll always be the scariest one in the room.

Your ex’s mouth curls into a snarl, eyeing Sukuna’s hands that rest easily on your upper arms.

“You’ve gotta be-” he grumbles to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand that isn’t blocking you from entering the house. “Come on baby, you know you belong with me and not-” he cuts himself off as he shoots Sukuna an icy glance.

You shift uncomfortably at the tone he uses as he says that you belong with him, growing uneasy the longer you’re in his presence. Steeling your resolve, you straighten yourself and muster as much confidence as you can.

“This isn’t about Sukuna. You left me outside in the cold last night and I called my best friend to get me,” you tell him without missing a beat. Sukuna is practically grinning behind you as your ex’s jaw clenches but you don’t see the exchange between the two men. “Oh, and I don’t belong with or to anyone.”

Sukuna squeezes your arm in reassurance.

“I need my keys and wallet. I’m taking my bike and some clothes.”

Your ex mulls over your words before relenting finally, just as you’re beginning to think you’ll be without belongings. “Fine, but he stays outside.”

You glance up at Sukuna, whose expression is unreadable. “Fine,” you agree, slipping from Sukuna’s grasp and into the house. Your ex goes to close the door in Sukuna’s face, but a steady hand stops him just as you dash out of sight into your old bedroom.

“Let go of the door, man.”

“Leave the door open, man,” Sukuna warns mockingly in a sneer.

“She’s my-”

“She’s not. She’s not yours. She doesn’t belong to you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Sukuna.” He rolls his eyes, pressing more of his weight against the door, but it’s nothing compared to the bulk Sukuna packs.

“Consider yourself lucky I’m not rearranging your face right now,” his deep eyes blaze as he leans closer to your ex, his words dangerously low. If ever Sukuna is thankful that he knows he’s a scary person, it’s right now as your ex flinches back and relents, leaving the door open and leaving Sukuna at the door.

Your ex disappears from Sukuna’s sight and he stands up straight, turning to the side as he stares at your bike. He knows you can handle yourself, but he still doesn’t love the prospect of you being alone with your ex for any period of time.

Sukuna especially hates how long it takes. He’s not sure how much you need to pack and he can’t make out whatever you’re talking about with your ex but each passing moment he grows less patient and less willing to wait outside.

Just as he’s thinking of stepping inside, he sees your tiny figure with a backpack and a suitcase, keys dangling from your fingers and your wallet held firmly in your hand. The relief on your face when you lock eyes with Sukuna is somewhat heartwarming, but what isn’t is the way your ex tries to grab your wrist as you make your way to the door.

You pull against him but his grip fastens.

Sukuna sees red. He sees red and he doesn’t think twice about stepping into what was once your house.

“Don’t touch her.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of Sukuna making his way towards you with gritted teeth. “No, no, no! Sukuna! It’s fine, I can handle this!” Your hand with your wallet and keys flies up as you maneuver yourself between him and your ex.

Your ex’s hand doesn’t loosen even when your arm physically blocks Sukuna from laying a beating on him.

You take a breath, looking between the two men. “I’m leaving. Please let go,” you say softly, so calmly it almost breaks Sukuna’s heart that your ex’s actions seem so normal to you.

“We aren’t done talking-”

“We are. I’ll be back for the rest of my things later.” You tug your wrist again, sending a pleading look to your ex, but his grip only tightens. “Please let go.”

“Y/n, please. Please, we can work this out.”

“Let go,” you tell him firmly, ignoring his words.

“Please-”

“I don’t know if you’re incapable of listening or if you just want your head bashed in, but I’d listen to her.” Sukuna’s voice is a warning, dripping with malevolence you’ve never heard from him before. His chest is pressed hard against your free hand and you aren’t sure you can hold him back much longer.

“Ryo,” you plead, looking between the two men as you try to pull your wrist again. Your ex’s hand twitches at Sukuna’s words before loosening and falling to his side. You breathe out a sigh of relief, glancing down at the bruising markings his fingers left behind.

“So he’s Ryo now, huh?”

You glare pointedly at your ex, knowing that one wrong word will have him with his face caved in.

Sukuna’s intense stare never once leaves your ex, but he does allow you to hand him your suitcase and gently tug his forearm to follow you out the door.

Your ex watches from the door as Sukuna follows you to your bike. His intent gaze has your hair standing on end but you choose to ignore the feeling in favor of hopping on your bike.

The sound of your bike roaring to life puts both you and Sukuna at ease and you ride down the driveway, stopping next to his bike. He jogs after you with your suitcase still in-hand.

Sukuna is quiet, which isn’t unusual for him but you can practically feel the anger coming off of him in droves like smoke. Kicking your bike’s stand out, you hop off and flip his Ducati’s storage compartment open, pulling out a couple of straps to secure your suitcase to the back of your bike.

“Ready?”

You pull your friend’s attention from your ex finally as your hand comes to rest on his bicep. His eyes travel from your face to your arm that rests on him, where he can see the way your wrist is reddened and sure to bruise.

Realizing the sight of your reddened arm has his jaw clenching with anger, you move it behind your back and out of sight.

“Kuna, please.”

His intense gaze examines yours as the breeze faintly ruffles his spiked hair. He’s completely still apart from the muscle working in his jaw as he thinks over his options at this moment, but his chest heaves as he sighs in exasperation and gives in.

“Whatever,” he growls, shooting a poisonous look back at the door that your ex hasn’t moved from. Sukuna haughtily pulls his helmet on over his head, flipping his visor down before getting on his bike and accelerating quickly.

Based on the way Sukuna weaves through traffic and carelessly speeds through lights, you know he’s furious. You pull your bike into the parking spot next to him a couple of minutes after he pulls in, finding him pacing in the parking garage.

Shutting off your bike and pulling off your helmet, you approach him with angled brows, trying to reassure him. “Thanks for coming with me, I appreciate it.” He’s blinded by rage and you’re not even sure if he hears you. “Kuna, I’m okay,” you insist, reaching out to put a hand on his arm but he still brushes past you.

Sighing, you unload your suitcase from the back of your bike and return the bungee cables to the storage compartment of the Ducati as you let Sukuna blow off some steam.

Once everything is ready to go up to Sukuna’s apartment, you turn your attention back to him.

“Can we go up to your place?”

“He hurt you,” Sukuna hisses with pupils the size of pinpricks. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know that anger was directed elsewhere.

“It’s nothing really, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Fucking asshole, I should have-”

“Nope, we’re not going into that. I don’t want to know what you think you should have done.”

You grab your suitcase and begin rolling it through the parkade to the elevator, relieved when you hear a frustrated grunt behind you and a pair of keys clinking. The ride up to his apartment is silent, shrouded in anger.

Really, you should be the angry one but if anything, you're more relieved. Relieved that you have someone like Sukuna to stay with, someone who’s so willing to come get you at three in the morning when you need him most.

Sukuna swings the door to his apartment open, slamming against the doorstop loudly before creaking shut. His hand flies to his pocket as he trudges across the apartment, tossing his leather jacket on the couch and leaning out the window as he lights a cigarette.

A puff of smoke leaves his mouth as he swings his head back with closed eyes.

Shaking your head, you decide not to give him a hard time for his bad habit and give him space as you busy yourself with setting the couch up nicely for yourself to sleep on given that you were now homeless, among other things.

Sukuna takes his time at the window, stubbing out his cigarette when it’s barely an inch long and finally approaching you from where you sit on the floor looking through your bag, taking inventory of what you have and what you’ll need to pick up eventually.

Your pretty face smiles up at him when his shadow blocks your view and he finds himself relaxing more from the sight of you than he had from the nicotine.

“Are you okay?” You tilt your head, noting that he seems more calm now and he nods.

“Should be askin’ you that.”

“I’m okay. I mean it,” you insist.

His eyes flicker down to your wrist again but he knows better than to doubt you and he knows you can handle the pain. Sitting down on the couch behind you, he leans back and watches you quietly.

“I got the things that were most important, but hopefully I can go back and grab everything else eventually,” you note, more to yourself than him. He still hums in acknowledgement. “Why’d you want my bike back so bad, by the way?”

Your friend leans forward on his knees. “So I can still go for rides with you.”

“What, do I make a bad backpack?” You tease with a grin that has Sukuna’s shoulders falling to his sides as his anger subsides completely.

“Hard to drive when you’re feelin’ me up, princess.”

Your lips purse as your cheeks redden, caught off-guard by his nonchalant smirk. You’d felt up his abs a bit during the ride to your old place, sure, but being called out still had the tips of your ears heating up.

You stubbornly avoid his gaze, going back to figuring out if you’d forgotten anything. Deep chuckles resonate from behind you as your new roommate ruffles your hair and gets to his feet.

“By the way we’re goin’ out tonight.”

You tilt your head, eyes following Sukuna as he saunters over to the fridge and pulls out an energy drink.

“Where’d you have in mind?” You ask curiously, not entirely sure you’re in the mood to go out.

“That new rom com movie or whatever that you wanted to see is showing tonight. I got tickets.” He reaches back into the fridge and pulls out your favorite beverage, tossing it to you.

You barely manage to catch it, mumbling a thank you. “I don’t really know if I’m up for it,” you admit, staring at the drink in your hands.

“I already bought the tickets,” he shrugs, laying back on the couch again. “Suck it up.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste but you know it’s likely for the best that you’re out of the house so you do, in fact, suck it up.

It quickly becomes time for the movie and you find yourself back in the parking garage a couple of hours before sunset.

“Can you drive?”

“You gonna feel me up again?” Sukuna raises a brow at you, but a hint of a smirk pulls at his lips.

“... Can I?”

Your confidence catches him off-guard and he blanches, his lips parting as he stares at you. His eyes flicker to your lips and that single action has your heart beating fast and hard in your chest. The fluttering in your stomach as you wait for him to react is enough to make you wretch and you consider yourself lucky that he seems to pull himself together as his lips tug upwards into a sly grin.

He takes a step forward, dipping his head down to whisper in your ear. “Don’t stray too low while I’m drivin’.”

You’re left choking on air as Sukuna’s tone sends a jolt of electricity straight up your spine, setting your entire body ablaze. Your eyes trail the length of his body, pausing as you watch him pull his leather jacket over his thin white shirt. The way his muscles ripple and tense with each movement has you swallowing hard as you realize just how built and toned he really is.

You’re thankful you aren’t caught and are spared from Sukuna’s teasing as you hop onto the back of his bike, purposefully making a show of feeling up his abs. Moving from his pecs, across the peaks and valleys of each set of muscles, down until you take pause as you feel the waist of his pants connect with the tips of your fingers.

Sukuna groans, looking over his shoulder before he puts on his helmet. “Not while I’m driving, got it?”

You nod at him, batting your eyelashes sweetly. He huffs, adjusting the crotch of his pants before pulling his helmet on. He waits for you to follow suit before pulling out of the parking garage and heading to the theater.

Sukuna’s warmth is both a beacon of hope and a searing flame to your skin. A comfort and an exciting new idea to explore. You hold onto him tightly, your body melting into his heat as he drives much more carefully with you hooked onto him than he had earlier in the day.

Sukuna pulls into a spot by the front door of the theater and waits for you to let go before hopping off of the bike himself.

“Popcorn?” He asks you mildly, hands in his pockets.

“Um, that’s alright.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I don’t need popcorn.”

“Don’t need or don’t want?”

You pause, your brow knit as you silently question what he means, but Sukuna’s seen this play out before with your ex and he wants to break this habit.

“Do you want popcorn, y/n?”

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly. “Yeah, it’d be nice.”

Sukuna nods, surprising you as he grabs not your forearm or bicep as he usually does, but your hand. His much larger, veiny hand folds over yours, his fingers tangling with yours. Your hand is so small in his and even the feeling of your hand against him feels like a reminder of just how cute you are to him.

Your cheeks are surely dusted in a red glow, but you don’t mind given the surprisingly pleasant eagerness in your chest.

With popcorn in-hand, Sukuna leads you into the theater, taking you to your seat and relaxing into the reclining chair. He lifts the arm rest between you, not once disconnecting your hands like it’s the most natural action in the world.

And in all honesty, it is. Everything with Sukuna is easy. It feels right. It feels right in a way you’re not familiar with and it’s exhilarating.

Given the cheesy scenario he set up for, you half-expect Sukuna to make a move during the movie, but his thumb simply continues to rub soothing lines over your knuckles.

It’s after the movie that he surprises you.

Bounding down the stairs ahead of Sukuna as you tug him along with you, you’re practically gushing about the movie that you’re positive he barely paid attention to. It isn’t his style of film but he doesn’t mind either way.

“-I mean come on, how can you not love Owen Wilson in that role?”

“Mm.”

“-and it’s so charming watching him start to learn and care about her world-”

“Mhmm.”

“-oh my god and when she realizes she loves him and she shows up at the tournament-”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Despite how little he has to say about the movie, he’s just happy you enjoyed it.

“-and when he gets her flooowers?-”

Sukuna chuckles as you continue to gush over the movie at him. Still hand-in-hand, he tugs you along, quietly listening to your rambles as he makes his way to his bike. His chest swirls with anticipation as you pay his actions no mind when he turns towards the storage compartment of his bike as you continue rambling on.

It takes only a moment for his hand to reach the delicate item he’s in search of, deftly wrapping two fingers around the dainty object. Keeping his hand behind him, he turns to you with a soft smile. Lidded eyes stare at you with mirth, an expression that isn’t typical for Sukuna, so your rambles begin to fade into silence as you tilt your head curiously at him.

“Flowers, hm?” He asks, pulling a beautiful, blooming red rose out from behind him. He holds it out to you, pulling you closer by the hand that’s still intertwined with his as you purse your lips in disbelief.

“I- I-” You stammer over your words as your mouth goes dry, eyes fixed on the gorgeous flower held in Sukuna’s fingers.

It’s almost a strange sight to behold- the same man you’d seen passed out on your couch dozens of times, the man you’d had to bail out of jail on more than one occasion, the same man who grumbled and complained every single time you went to Red’s Bar- now holding a dainty little rose for you.

“W- when did you even have time to get this?” You shake your head, it doesn’t matter. “Sukuna, this is so much I-”

His brows raise as your rambles begin again and although he’s flustered you more times than he can count over the years, he’s never seen you genuinely nervous like this.

“-you really didn’t have to do anything like this for me-”

“Y/n.”

“-taking me to the movies is already a big deal and I know the last day has been a hassle for you-”

“Y/n,” Sukuna chuckles this time, his grip on your hand tightening as he squeezes it in an effort to get your attention.

“-I didn’t get you anything, I don’t-”

“Y/n,” Sukuna leans down, capturing your lips against his. His lips are soft and the kiss is uncharacteristically sweet. His hand slides out of your grasp, sliding up your arm and coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you closer to him. He parts from your lips with a smirk. “Shut up, princess.”

You stare breathlessly at him, eyes flickering wildly between his eyes, his lips, before resting down on the rose again.

“Take the damn flower.”

“R-right!” You gingerly reach out, holding the stem as you bring it up to your nose. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“Well, someone had to,” it comes out as more of a grumble as his brow furrows, but his fingers curl into the skin of your waist as he speaks, betraying the meaning behind his words.

“Mhmm, someone.” You agree teasingly, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Kuna.” You rise up onto your tiptoes, resting a hand on his chest as you lean up to kiss him, just barely able to reach his jaw.

His chest vibrates in a content hum. “So short,” he mocks, tilting his head to meet your lips again. Pulling his other hand from his pocket, he pulls the flower from your fingers, setting it in the storage behind him and finding your waist to bring you flush against him.

Your hands slide up the length of his hard musculature until you find his neck. Your fingers tangle in the short hair at his nape and another hum slips from his lips, swallowed by your kiss.

He leans down to meet your height better as the kiss gains urgency, years of pent up emotions flooding from Sukuna’s every movement. His fingers curl into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Kuna?”

He grunts into the kiss, smirking against your lips when he slides a hand from your waist down to your hips.

“Can we-” you breathe out between kisses, “-go home?”

Sukuna parts from your lips, examining your expression with blown pupils, so wide you can barely see the deep color of his irises. He swallows hard, his chest rising and falling fast as he nods silently.

You let out a surprised squeal when he grabs you by the hips and effortlessly lifts you onto his bike.

“-can do it myself,” you insist but Sukuna doesn’t register your words, too caught up in the intoxication of your smell, your feel, your taste. He wants more.

Hopping on the bike in front of you, he waits for your helmet to be on before he starts his Ducati and throws his helmet on. Your hands take their place around his toned abdomen, sliding down without a moment’s thought.

“Behave,” Sukuna hisses loud enough that you hear him even over the sound of his bike’s engine. He doesn’t need your visor up to know you’re smiling innocently at him.

He clicks his tongue and speeds out of the parking lot back towards his apartment. Though he’s still more careful driving with his sweet little backpack clinging to him, you’re not oblivious to the fact that he is driving quicker than usual.

Relaxing against Sukuna’s toned back brings with it a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s strange, despite him speeding through traffic and the sparking tension between you both, it’s easy to close your eyes and relax against him.

It’s not a feeling you’ve had with your ex for a long time. Although you ignored the flags throughout your relationship and defended him when he didn’t deserve it, it wasn’t always that way, but Sukuna has always been a safe and worry-free escape from the world for you. Since the first day he drove into your life, since you first realized that Sukuna enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

He’s a hard book to read and an easy presence to be in.

Your eyes flicker open, not realizing you’d grown so relaxed holding onto him that he’d already pulled into his parking spot, parking beside your Kawasaki.

Sukuna instinctively moves to get off his bike, expecting you to follow him, but pauses when you move rather sluggishly behind him. Pulling his helmet off, he shakes his head in an effort to fix his hair before he eyes you over his shoulder.

“You gonna get off?”

To anyone else, it might come across as aggressive, but his tone is mild as ever.

“Sorry, Kuna.”

You exhale and push off the bike with a hand resting on Sukuna’s shoulder blade. He watches you curiously, tucking you under his shoulder and leading the way back up to his apartment.

Pulling out his keys in the elevator, he ducks his head to get a good look at your expression.

“Tired?”

“No! … Well, yeah, but I was just relaxing,” you tell him and he hums, his eyes swirling with mirth. You cross an arm over your chest, your breast pressing against your arm. His eyes flicker to the sight, pupils dilating as he swallows hard. “See something you like, Sukuna?”

Your lidded eyes and purring voice has the taller man teetering on the edge of self control. His mind reels with thoughts that aren’t appropriate for the elevator and the moment the door opens, he’s making his way to his apartment like a man on a mission.

Desire pools between your thighs at his eagerness, made more apparent in the way he fumbles at the door with his keys.

It’s not even a second after the door is closed and he maneuvers you against the door, helmets on the ground as his fingers move to flip the lock behind you before they travel up the side of your body, admiring your curves before he cups your face.

He captures your lips, hungry to taste you again. He wants to devour you, he wants to mark you and make you his. Your lips move in tandem with his, matching his fervor with equal eagerness.

Your fingers rake his chest, thumbs sliding over the length of his collarbones. The feeling of his broad chest beneath your hands drives you crazy and you press back against him, your breasts pressing against the expanse of his chest.

“Kuna, wait,” you breathe, chest heaving as you part from him. Vermillion irises lock on you as he pulls back, his fingers gripping your waist almost bruisingly. “This isn't…” You pause, your mouth opening and closing hesitantly.

“Out with it,” Sukuna encourages hoarsely.

You shoot him a wry smile at his blunt impatience. “This isn’t just a hookup for me, you know.”

He raises a brow at you. “You think that’s what this is for me?” You might even assume he sounds offended.

“No! No,” you clarify, shaking your head as your pretty eyes go wide. He rolls his shoulders, leaning his face closer to yours as he intently watches you. “I just… I-” you pause again, avoiding his intense gaze.

“It’s not a one night stand, y/n.” Sukuna’s pupils shrink as he speaks solemnly. He feels you relax in his grip, your eyes coming up to meet his. “Relax n’ let me take care of you.”

Your cheeks redden at your best friend’s boldness and you shuffle as you press your thighs together.

“I better not be your rebound, y’know.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice now, the elbow holding him up against the door sliding down as his face grows closer to you. God, he’s tall. He’s tall and built like a monster, and between the size of his hands, his muscles, not to mention his height… Your wide, almost timid eyes flicker down to his crotch. He catches the action and smirks. “Don’t get nervous now,” he leers.

“I’m not!” You squeak, the blush spreading to the tips of your ears. “And… you’re not a rebound.” You grab his shirt collar as you pull him in for a kiss, much sweeter than the covetous one you’d shared a minute ago.

Sukuna’s eyes flutter shut as he finds himself relaxing into your touch when you slide your hands up his neck and into his dark, undyed undercut.

“I like you, Ryo.” You admit when you pull back just enough for the words to reach his ears. His smirk can be felt against your lips.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” In true Sukuna fashion, that’s his way of reciprocating your admission, because he doesn’t do feelings. But you know. You know exactly what he means.

You grin against his lips, giggling like a giddy school girl who’s just seen her crush smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles at your sudden timid delight.

“You’re such a loser,” he chuckles, his hand moving from your waist to hold your chin. He kisses you softly, your giggles persisting against his lips. Your fingers curl gleefully in his hair when he pulls back with impishly narrowed eyes. “You’re makin’ it hard to kiss you.”

“Sorry,” you chirp, your eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s just cute- you’re cute.”

“Me?” He pulls back, standing at his full height and making a point of showing off his broad shouldered stance. “Cute?” He tilts his head quizzically as if to prove a point but if anything, you find the strands of hair falling out of place over his forehead cute.

“Yeah, you.”

“I’ll show you cute,” he grumbles, and suddenly you’re lifted off the ground effortlessly. You shriek in surprise in his ear as you grasp at the back of his leather jacket. He mumbles something about you being a brat before dumping you on the couch and crawling over your body.

His form looms over you and you’re both suddenly very aware of the immense size difference between you both, something which might be one of Sukuna’s favorite things. He loves how tiny you are, how easily he can handle you.

Sukuna takes pause, his usually dour gaze filled with longing, admiring what he’d wanted for so long as you stare back at him with wide eyes. He loves the fiery attitude you always sport, but this flustered side of you is new to him and he drinks it in like a drug.

Your chest rises and falls quickly, eyes darting from his arms that cage you in, down the expanse of his chest that peeks through his V-neck, back up to that alluring tattooed face. His sharp jaw, his ever-present smirk, his intense stare, it’s all so goddamn sexy and you’re flustered to silence like a deer in the headlights being hunted by a wolf.

“Funny, you seem to have lost your bark,” he comments tantalizingly, dipping down to kiss your jaw. Now with your body trapped beneath him, he feels the way your hips twitch. “What happened to the brat from earlier?”

You swallow down a moan as his voice sets you ablaze. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, fingers gripping him tightly. You take a breath to readjust and bat your lashes up at him as you push through the sudden nerves that seem to chase you. “Brat? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuna.”

Sukuna grins, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “There she is,” he hums, bringing himself down to his elbows to kiss you wholly. His lips move urgently against yours, tongue swiping your lower lip almost immediately. He groans when you grant him access by parting your lips, drinking in your taste. You gasp in surprise as his tongue piercing grazes your tongue, a strangely pleasurable new feeling.

Your hands slide from his biceps up his neck, keeping him close, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss. When you shift beneath him to clench your thighs as heat pools in your lower abdomen, he groans.

“Fuck,” he hisses into your mouth, catching you by surprise when he nips your lower lip. He pulls back for only a moment but in that split second the look on your best friend’s face tells you everything you need to know. You’re his prey, and he’s about to devour you.

“Kuna-!” You gasp in surprise when kisses down the side of your neck, leaving behind purple bruises as he sucks and nips at the side of your neck. Reaching the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, his teeth graze your skin before gently sinking in, testing the waters with a glance at your face.

You whine, squirming beneath him.

Sukuna withdraws with a smirk, running his tongue soothingly over the reddened skin. “Kinky little thing, aren’t you?” He purrs, rolling his hips against you so roughly you whimper. “Shit,” he mumbles and returns to his ministrations, his hips rolling against yours like a dog in heat.

“Sh-shut up, Kuna…” you groan, rutting your hips up into him. His movement stutters with pleasure and he nips your skin again in response. “Darlin’, hold onto me,” his husky voice commands against the skin of your ear.

“Hm? Ah-!”

Sukuna slides a muscular arm beneath the small of your back, pressing you to him and urging your arms to cling to his shoulders. You wrap your legs around his waist as he picks you up, holding your small frame to him in one arm.

He carries you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him as you press kisses to his collarbone, leaving behind marks of your own. He hums, plopping you down onto the bed and standing to shrug his jacket off and unbuckle his belt, letting it and his jeans drop to the floor.

You’re sure your face is red as a tomato, pupils dilated as you admire his body, your gaze landing on the boner that’s pulling the fabric of his black Calvin Klein boxers taut. You swipe your tongue out over your lips, bringing your lower lip between your teeth.

Your best friend grins, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. You let out a surprised gasp, gripping at the sheets at either side of you.

“G’nna take my time n’ treat her right,” he purrs, falling over you as your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He could be talking about you or your pussy, it doesn’t matter either way.

He lifts your shirt up over your head and you arch your back to make it easier. You’re so pliant for him and he adores your obedience, adores the desperate, lustful look in your eyes.

“Shit, girl,” he mumbles, his eyes eating you alive on the spot as he admires your body. You’re so small in comparison to the way his figure looms over you.

Catching your gaze, he squeezes one of your breasts, slipping the other from the fabric of your lace bra to press the warm flat of his tongue to your nipple. You jolt as pleasure buzzes through your body, moaning when he sucks the hardened bud between his lips. The cool metal of his piercing intensifies the pleasure when it grazes your skin and causes goosebumps to raise on your arms.

Your hands find his hair, tugging enough that Sukuna smirks against the plush of your skin.

“So needy,” he hums. Your thighs clench around his waist as the vibration of his voice against your skin rocks through you.

Your lidded eyes stare down at him and you take the opportunity to tug his shirt off. He complies, tossing it across the room. His heavily tattooed chest, abdomen, arms- he’s gorgeous and you can barely believe he’s standing over you right now, eyes for only you.

“Kuna,” you mumble between moans, jerking as he flicks your nipple with a smug grin.

He mutters out a ‘what’ before sinking his teeth into your breast. You gasp, eyes widening and bucking your hips against him as your head swings back into the mattress. As you arch your back for him, Sukuna deftly slips your bra off.

“Stop being a tease,” you plead, the hard length of his cock twitching against your core as you tighten your legs.

“A tease? What do you want then, hm?” His voice is cocky, knowing. He wants you on your knees begging.

“Kunaaaa,” you groan, laying the back of your arm across your eyes, suddenly timid.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, pulling your arm away from your face. He grabs your other arm and holds them both down above you with one large hand. “What do you want, brat?” His face is inches away from yours now and he rolls his hips against your core teasingly despite the ache he feels.

“I-” you pant, pausing to look at his intense stare. “Wan’ you to eat me out.”

“Yeah?” He hums, lowering his head so that his lips brush yours. “Thought you had manners?”

“Please, Kuna,” you beg in a whiny voice. Sukuna smirks, getting to his knees at the edge of the bed and draping his arm over your hips to hold them down as he sprawls your legs out before him.

“Fuckin’ soaked for me,” he groans, his breath warm against the fabric of your panties. He wastes no time hooking his fingers through the fabric to pull them aside. His digits brush your folds as you buck your hips in a desperate attempt at friction.

Chuckling softly, Sukuna languidly licks up your cunt, savoring your taste with the slow movement. You squirm beneath him, raking your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips towards his tongue.

“Patience,” Sukuna hums and flicks his tongue out to circle your clit. His piercing grazes the sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes go wide with pleasure.

“Such a- hah- asshole- ah-!” Sukuna doesn’t give you the satisfaction of teasing him as he pushes his long tongue into your dripping chasm, your walls clenching around the muscle in ecstasy.

Sukuna groans as your fingers tug his hair. He lets you buck your hips into his mouth and ride his face, relishing in the sound of your moans and pants.

The feeling of his tongue inside you is already so intense that when he brings a thumb up to flick your clit, the sudden desire that pulses through your body straight to the knot tightening in your core has you bucking your hips in surprise. His grip on your hips fastens as he holds you down again, keeping you from squirming out of his grasp.

The desire and heat pooling in your core quickly grow in intensity as Sukuna’s experienced tongue plunges through your folds, drinking up your arousal.

“K-Kuna- I- I’m gonna-” your words are mere babbles as you try to speak through the bliss, your orgasm steadily approaching.

“Let me taste it, princess.”

The feeling of his voice with his tongue within you, the way his piercing suddenly flicks your gummy walls, his thumb on your clit, the way he calls you princess, it’s so much that your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, causing your body to jolt and jerk against the mattress.

Sukuna’s thumb leaves your clit as he holds down one of your thighs to keep you from crushing his head as you moan and pant out his name while your body spasms. He slows his ministrations to drink every last drop of your orgasm before flicking your clit with his tongue one last time, pleased when you jolt.

He pushes himself up, wiping your slick from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Shit, you’re hot,” he mutters. You barely have a moment to come down from your high before he’s pulling you to the floor by your waist, dropping you on your knees. His hungry expression and throbbing cock tell you everything you need to know as you look up at him through your lashes.

Your fingers curl around the waist of his boxers as you pull them down his thighs. His rock-hard erection slaps against his abs as you free it from the confines of the fabric. Sure, Sukuna is a monster of a man at nearly seven feet tall of solid muscle mass and you’d felt him grinding against you, but your eyes still widen at the sight of his cock.

You feel your mouth water as you stare at the angry red tip, veins protruding and pulsing with desire on either side.

“Think you can take it?” He asks and although it’s a teasing and husky tone he uses with you, he is genuinely asking as well. You nod eagerly and he grins. “Good girl,” he purrs.

Bringing a hand up to his cock, you wrap your fingers daintily around the thick base, looking up at those glimmering vermillion eyes as you run your tongue from base to tip, eliciting a heavy groan from the man.

“Christ,” he groans, his head flying back in pleasure. You smirk and take the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the leaking slit before teasingly pulling back with a pop!

His hips shudder as he does everything in his power to stop himself from using your mouth, to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat with no warning.

“Needy, Ryo?”

You don’t expect the way that sets him off, lights his desire ablaze anew as he fists your hair and leans down with a clenched jaw to look you in the eyes.

You whimper in surprise, closing your thighs from where you sit on your knees as your cunt pulses from the way he handles you so roughly.

“Let’s get it straight right now which of us is needy,” he growls with a smirk, eyeing the way you shift your thighs. “You gonna be a good little slut for me?”

You nod up at him, pupils dilating as he tugs your hair. He grins, narrowing his eyes. “Words, woman.”

“Yes, Kuna,” you purr back at him. The wild look in his eyes intensifies as he receives your consent and pushes the tip of his cock past your lips. His jaw goes slack in pleasure as you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up his precum.

“Shit,” he groans out, watching as you take his cock without breaking eye contact while he thrusts further into your mouth. You gag when he reaches the back of your throat, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes and you shut them as you take his length. “Ah ah, look at me. Takin’ me so well.”

Sukuna knows you can’t take his entire cock in your mouth, he knows there’s a fairly large size difference between the both of you. It doesn’t stop the way he pushes your head down on his cock watching the way tears run down your cheeks as you so obediently let him handle you.

Saliva runs down the length of his cock and you bring a hand up to the base, pumping what you can’t fit in your throat. His hand pulls your mouth off his cock, adjusting his hand to hold your head back against the bed so that he can relentlessly fuck into you, massive cock hitting the back of your throat and gagging you with each thrust.

He throws his head back as you pump the base of his shaft while he fucks you, being his perfect little doll. His abs flex and twitch when your muscles tense as you swallow around him.

“Such a nasty fuckin’ throat.” He barely gives you any time to breathe as his pace increases, along with the pace of your hand to match. His chest heaves as he moans, letting you dig your nails into his thigh for purchase while he uses your throat.

His cock twitches as you moan when he hits the back of your throat and his eyes shut tight with pleasure, jaw going slack. When he jolts again with the next thrust, you know he’s close so you hum contentedly, sending vibrations up his shaft and causing his hips to jerk erratically as he chases his high.

“F-fuck,” he groans out before his hips stutter and your eyes widen when his cum unloads down your throat, thick ropes of salty sweet arousal swallowed as he keeps himself warm within your mouth. You move your lips slowly around his girth, milking every last drop of his orgasm. You pull back after a moment to allow yourself a chance to breathe, panting as you stare up at him.

His chest heaves and his cock twitches every few seconds, telling of the orgasm he’s just had. Still, his eyes burn with desire when he finally opens them.

He reaches down to pick you up and sets you at the edge of the bed on all fours roughly.

He squeezes your ass before slapping it once. Your body jolts in surprise as you gasp.

“Princess, you on any birth control?”

“Mhmm, you can go raw.”

You hear him mumble a curse beneath his breath. “You tell me if it’s too much,” he tells you, catching the way you glance over your shoulder at him and nod.

In spite of the rough way he uses and handles you, he’s still very attentive to your pleasure and comfort.

He pays no mind to the fact that you actually liked the panties you’re wearing as he physically tears them off of your body, tossing the ripped fabric aside. You whine in complaint, shooting him a look from over your shoulder.

“I’ll buy ya new ones,” he huffs, returning his attention to your body.

Squeezing your ass in both palms, he leans down and buries his face in your pussy, licking a stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. He hums at how wet you still are, moving a hand up your spine to hold you down and keep you arched for him.

His teeth sink into the plump of your ass and you squeak at the sudden burst of pain that quickly twists to pleasure when he soothingly laps over the mark he’s left.

He slides his hand down from squeezing your plump ass to glide a finger through your lubricated folds. You lean into his touch, gasping when he suddenly plunges one long finger into your lubricated pussy.

Your walls are tight as they pulse around his long finger. He eases another digit in, pumping them slowly as he realizes just how tight you are.

“Relax, darlin’,” he hums soothingly, curling his fingers against your walls a couple of times before he finds your g spot. His voice is such a stark contrast to his rough tendencies, but it’s soothing to have him so worried for your comfort.

“Ryo, f-fuck-” you moan out as his fingers languidly curl against your gummy walls which gradually relax against his long fingers. With a couple more pumps of his fingers, he pulls them out, leaving you pulsing around nothing and craving his touch as you shift your hips in search of friction with a whine.

Sukuna grunts when he lines himself up with your plump cunt, pumping himself a couple of times before he slowly eases his tip into you. Your eyes widen at the delicious burn of the stretch, fingers curling in the sheets as you adjust to his massive size. And god this is only the tip.

You cry out, the feeling of his girthy cock filling you up blurring your vision as the pain transitions to pleasure before the process begins all over again with each movement he makes. His cock throbs, making you feel impossibly full.

Sukuna wants to ruin you, he wants to tear you apart on his cock, but he doesn’t want to hurt his sweet little best friend, so he watches the way your face contorts in mild pain, waiting for your expression to relax as he slowly feeds you his cock, inch by inch.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’,” Sukuna purrs, his thumb stroking your back in contrast to the fact that he’s still holding you down and keeping you arched for him.

His cock head brushes your cervix, pressing against it as he bottoms out, fingers curling against your back at how tight you’re squeezing him as he waits for you to adjust.

Your shoulders relax beneath his touch and you whimper as he slides his cock out to the tip, setting a moderate pace so as not to shock you. The feeling of his thick, veiny cock is like nothing you’ve ever experienced, his size just so much to take that you moan and whine with each thrust of his cock into your tight hole.

You grip at the sheets beneath you, gasping as Sukuna speeds up his thrusts and presses you hard into the mattress, muffling your moans.

“Kuna- mmph,” you let out a muffled whimper, jolting when he slaps your ass roughly, no longer holding back.

“F-fuckin’- shit-” he groans, his fingers gripping your skin bruisingly as he holds you in place. He leans forward, sliding his hand from your back to your neck, restricting your airflow subtly. Pleasure tears through your spine as he leans forward and pushes in deeper with each thrust, pulling moans and screams of his name from deep in your throat.

“K-Kuna, I’m- hah- close,” you whimper, words muffled by the sheets beneath you. He loosens his fingers from your neck, grabbing your waist with both hands as he pulls your ass closer to him, pounding into you faster as he chases his own high.

“Shit, y’r such a good lil slut for me,” he groans, feeling your walls tighten around his thick length with each thrust.

Pleasure tightens deep within your core, knotting and curling as he fucks you so deliciously that your juices are already dripping from your cunt around his hilt. His eyes lock on the sight and he throws his head back in pleasure, his own high not far behind.

With one last hit against your cervix, your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before as your entire body shakes and jolts, your knees and legs giving out.

If Sukuna wasn’t holding you up, you surely would have collapsed as stars cloud your vision and you moan his name like a mantra. Your eyes are glossy and your mind delirious as he continues to fuck you through your high, your walls milking him in a way that has him quickly climbing towards his release.

With only a few more erratic thrusts that have you whining under him in overstimulation, his cock twitches suddenly as his entire load fills you up, mixing with your juices and dripping out of your swollen lips down your thighs that Sukuna is still holding up.

He moans as he slowly lets your body go and you sink to the mattress, panting beneath him as his cock slips from between your thighs. His eyes flicker to your pretty pussy, his cum leaking out with each pulse of your walls. His chest heaves as well as he slowly gets to his feet and walks to the side of the bed, sliding up against the headboard.

Sukuna pulls your body up from where you’ve collapsed, wrapping his arms around you as his sweat-slicked skin sticks to yours. He’s much gentler now, looking you over for any signs that he might have hurt you accidentally, but when you finally open your eyes, they’re glossy with pleasure and filled with adoration.

He can’t help the way he genuinely smiles, not a common thing for the tepid biker, but when you grin and giggle in return, it makes his heart jump.

He practically turns to putty in your hands and as you silently bask in the afterglow of the best sex of your life and lean into Sukuna’s embrace.

“Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” He asks after a moment and you’re surprised by the way his fingers softly graze your skin.

“You were great Kuna, don’t worry,” you answer, yawning afterwards.

He hums in relief, leaning his head back for a moment before taking it upon himself to get you cleaned up before you pass out. Grabbing a towel, he wipes your thighs and tosses the towel in a hamper at the edge of the room before pulling the covers over your figure and crawling in behind you.

“Ryo?”

Sukuna hums quizzically.

“Do I get to know how long now?”

“You’re a brat,” he growls in your ear as he pulls you flush against his chest, his arms folded around your middle.

“Yeah yeah, just answer the question,” you grouse, rolling your eyes. You have an inkling of a feeling that you know when he realized his feelings for you, but you’re curious nonetheless.

He sighs, knowing you’ll never let him live this down. “Dunno. It’s been a while,” he avoids the question.

You flip in his arms to face him with raised brows. He groans, avoiding your gaze.

“I guess around the time you got with your ex,” he admits, his eyes locked on the wall behind you as he tucks your head under his chin to avoid your intent gaze.

“Is that why you stopped seeing people?”

“You noticed?”

“Kuna, you had a new girl under your arm every time I saw you for a while.”

He grunts, pulling you tighter to his body.

Giggling, you kiss his collar bone. “That’s sweet.”

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls heavily as he lets out a long sigh. You can practically feel the way his cheeks are heating up as you tease him, something that you’d only managed a handful of times in all the years you’ve known him.

“Sorry, am I embarrassing the big bad motorcycling bad boy?” You push, squeaking in protest as Sukuna wastes no time in shoving you away from him in an attempt to push you off the bed. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry!” You insist, looking to him for mercy as you cling to his arms, clutching desperately at the flexed muscles.

“And?”

“And…” you search for the words he’s looking to hear in his eyes, gripping his arms tighter. “I won’t do it again?”

“And?”

“I’m sorry I ate the rest of your leftovers this morning?”

His brow furrows. Oh shit.

“I mean… no I didn’t. They’re still there,” you mumble, avoiding his judgemental gaze guiltily.

Sukuna’s hold on your shoulder begins to lax as you teeter at the edge of the bed, threatening to drop you to the floor. You scramble to try to grip him tighter.

“I’ll buy you new food!”

Sukuna sighs and drags you back to him. You let out a relieved puff of air against his chest, snuggling back into his warmth. “Jus’ wanted you to say when it was for you.”

You tilt your head up at him, only able to see his chin. “When what was?”

“You know. When you realized what you think of me or whatever.” Sukuna’s gruff tone is telling that he isn’t used to such sincere conversations. Although you’ve known him a long time and he’d told you about damn near every sexual encounter he’s had, Sukuna’s most record-breaking relationship was a shocking three months.

Of course, Sukuna isn’t a romantic, and she didn’t know him well enough to know that he was putting in effort, so it didn’t last long.

“Oh. When I realized I like you?”

He grunts.

You hum in thought, moments throughout your friendship scrolling through your mind like a slideshow.

Of course, your forefront thought is when Sukuna first stepped off that stupidly well taken care of Ducati and surprised you when he managed to not only get you home on a running bike, but let you buy him a drink. He’s always been ridiculously attractive, but no, those weren’t feelings.

You think of all the times you hung out with friends and they would point out his change in behavior. You’d always think on the statement, watch the way that aloof look of his turns mild when he faces you, but you didn’t want to think about it too much.

You ponder on the time you’d called him on a whim early in your friendship when your date had bailed on you. Sukuna did not want to see the cheesy romance movie you had tickets for, but he’d sucked it up and shown up. You’d offered to buy him dinner as a thank you, but he paid regardless. It was the kind of thing a real date would do, but he’d complained so much you brushed the thought away.

When you were entirely too obsessed with Game of Thrones and insisted he be your king in a big fur cloak for Halloween, maybe then something had changed.

“You want me to be some guy from the show you like?” He’d grumbled and guffawed over having to dress up at all, insisting he’d been planning to put in minimal effort.

“Pleaaase, Kuna?” You were practically on your knees by the time he’d agreed with a roll of his eyes. “You’d make a good Robb Stark,” you insist before second-guessing yourself. “Well, if he was grumpy and kind of a dick.” You shrug, grinning up at him as he shoots you a begrudging look through narrowed eyes.

It only takes you a few days to put together the costume given the abundance of medieval king and knight costumes around.

His arms cross over his rugged chest, the fabric of his shirt pulled taut by the movement. “You can’t be serious.” He stares at the tight faux leather coat you hand him with a scowl.

“He wears something similar!”

“I’m not wearing this.”

“Please, you said you would!” You pout at him as you sport your best puppy dog eyes.

“No.”

You jut your bottom lip out, taking a step towards him as you shove the leather top to his chest. His eyes narrow, gears turning in his head until he shuts his eyes, giving in.

Your eyes light up as he pulls the top from you, groaning as he pulls it on over his shirt. It’s tight on him, which you expected given Sukuna’s sheer size, but it’s a strangely hot look on your rugged best friend. Even more so when he lets you drape the cape over his shoulders and set a cute little crown on his head.

“No, absolutely not,” he hisses, slapping your hand away when you try to clip the crown in place with a bobby pin.

“You’re such a pain,” you tease as you try again, holding an extra pin between your teeth.

Standing back, you admire your work as you receive a very unamused look in return. Sukuna’s build makes for a very kingly stature in spite of the contrasting tattoos and it makes him hot. In fact, you’re half afraid someone will whisk him away at the Halloween party given how nicely he’s cleaned up.

Your lips twitch downwards at the thought. You don’t want him to be whisked away. You want your king by your side.

“So?”

Snapping you from your thoughts, your eyes light up again. “You look great,” you tell him with a grin. His eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize.

He hums, examining your expression. “Well, go get ready then. Gonna sweat through all this leather n’ shit.”

“Oh like you aren’t used to leather,” you roll your eyes, but you oblige, getting your matching Talisa Stark outfit on.

When you return to Sukuna sitting on his couch, you muster your best impression of your character. “My king?”

Your best friend’s attention turns to you, eyes widening as you approach him in a floor-length queen’s gown with a matching gray cloak and a crown pinned into your hair. “Shit, y’ look good,” he breathes out.

Your cheeks heat up and you scratch at the back of your neck. “Thanks, Kuna.” You clear your throat and your mind to the best of your ability as you offer him a hand. “Ready?”

He hums, taking your hand before grabbing his keys and offering you his arm. “My queen?”

You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the first spark. The first real spark. As he loosened up throughout the night and repetitively called you his princess, you knew you were spent. Each and every time he used the name had you giggling up a storm and while you’d brushed it off as intoxication at the time, you knew the truth deep down.

So when he’d returned to his aloof self the following morning, you swallowed down your feelings.

You couldn’t bear the thought of losing your best friend and he didn’t have a good track record with relationships. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared, even now.

“Halloween,” you utter finally, unsure of just how long you’ve been silently contemplating an answer in his arms.

“Figures,” his chest rumbles in brief laughter.

“You knew?”

“Nah, thought it was the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. That’s why I started dating other people.”

Sukuna doesn’t respond but he buries his face into the crown of your head, drinking in your warmth, your intoxicating scent, and your soft skin against his as he closes his eyes.

No more other people, you’re his.

“Was it me callin’ you my princess?” He asks of the night you realized you’d caught feelings.

“That, and you make a good Robb Stark.”

He snorts. “I remember being told I was a dick.”

You shrug, smiling against the warm skin of his chest. “I don’t retract that statement.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and warmth spreads through your body as you relax against him, eyes closing as exhaustion spreads across you like a warm blanket. You know the kiss is a sassy retort, but it shamelessly works on you.

“Fine. I retract my statement.”

“That’s my princess.”

–

“Can you stop moving so much?”

Unsurprisingly, Sukuna’s got an attitude today and he absolutely plans on making it your problem as he huffs.

Your gloved hands work carefully to thoroughly cover every last strand of his short hair with dye. You know very well the only reason he’s being such a menace today is because you’d suggested a change in color and he’s afraid it’ll look bad.

In all your years of knowing him, he’s always had the same pink hair, so you were thrilled he was allowing you the honor of dying it back to its original color, black. You’d actually insisted on orange or red, but black was the only thing he was willing to compromise on.

You make your way back around him and find his scowling face looking up at you. Covering the last few strands of hair over his forehead, you boldly sit on his lap.

His demeanor changes in an instant as you straddle him and his hands eagerly find your hips and begin roaming up your waist and back down to your thighs. You shoot him a warning glance as you accidentally smudge some black dye on his forehead, but he pays you no mind as he continues his ministrations.

“Kuna,” you warn sternly, trying to wipe off the black marking before it leaves a stain, but it’s too late. You sigh and look over your work.

“Just a quickie, c’mon,” he insists with a grin.

“I don’t want to be covered in black dye,” you retort and Sukuna groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “How long do I gotta wait?”

“Thirty minutes.”

He frowns, eyes following your movements as you pull off your gloves and throw them in the trash of your shared apartment. He can’t for the life of him tear his eyes from you as you proceed to wash your hands before grabbing a damp towelette to wipe at his forehead.

Suddenly feeling like a child as you take care of the marking on his forehead, he swats at your hand.

“You’re a menace,” you mutter, avoiding his hand with practiced precision as you wipe away any traces of hair dye from his face.

He smirks, he likes the way you tease him and if anything it only makes him want to bend you over the table more.

Still, when you pull back to inspect his face and leave a gentle peck on his lips, he knows you don’t mind his attitude.

You know it’s all a ruse of sorts. Not around others, but around you it is.

Dating him for so many years came with its fair share of complications, especially given that Sukuna’s communication skills were about as good as those of a rock. He often didn’t pick up on small signs that you were bothered by things and vice versa, as he’s a tough book to read.

Regardless of any small arguments, nothing ever got out of hand surprisingly. You can’t imagine your life if Sukuna hadn’t shown up to get you the night your ex kicked you out. What Sukuna lacked in the department of emotional understanding, he made up for with his actions.

Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.

Each and every ‘I love you’ is met with a kiss, a squeeze of your arm, a tug towards him.

Sukuna has his own way of showing you he loves you.

He picks you up from work with flowers, shocking those around you when the grumpy-looking tattooed man hands you flowers that surely won’t make it home in great condition on his bike, but it doesn’t matter.

He runs you a bath when he fucks you into oblivion and your legs give out. It may be his own hand that inflicted your weakness, but it doesn’t matter because he shows you just how much he cares for you through his aftercare routine.

He makes your coffee with far too much milk and sugar for his own taste and complains about it the whole time, but it doesn’t matter because he still does it every morning for you.

Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.

When it comes time to wash his hair, he closes his eyes when you help him wash it in the sink. Your fingers move so delicately, taking care to wash out all the dye.

When he dries his hair with a towel and sees the way you delight at the sight of his freshly jet-black hair, he chuckles.

“Why do you never grow your hair out?” You ask, running your hands through his spiked hair. The color suits him and brings out his eyes in the most stunning way, you’re sure you have stars in your eyes from the way you’re staring at him.

“Dunno. The other color looks good,” he shrugs.

“It does!” You agree with a grin, “but so does this!” You insist. “It’s hot.”

He hums, looking himself over in the mirror. In truth, he doesn’t mind it. He only really indulged you because you’d insisted, but it worked out given what he had in mind for the night. It would look good in photos.

“When is Shiu getting here?” You ask curiously, interrupting Sukuna’s thoughts as your short arms wrap around his middle from behind.

“Hour from now.”

You gasp suddenly. “I need to clean up.”

“I can clean you up,” Sukuna smirks, lifting his arms in an attempt to see your face from where you stand behind him.

“Kunaaa,” you whine. “I need time to get ready.”

He groans dramatically. “Fine,” he grumbles, watching as you prance away happily to get ready.

You, Sukuna, Choso, Toji, Shiu, and Uraume were all going out in celebration of Toji’s newest addition to his family, a young boy. It was surprising that he was the first to settle down, but when you’d met his wife, you could see that she was his world, the way he relaxed at her touch and his own edge calmed in the same way Sukuna’s does around you.

Sukuna lays on his bed, watching as you choose a gorgeous black dress that hugs your curves so delectably that he wants to tear it off of you then and there. The whole time, he fumbles with something in his pocket, grateful when you don’t notice the small box accidentally fall from his grasp and onto the bed.

You chat with him about your work the whole time. Sukuna’s mind is elsewhere but given that he’s never all that chatty, you don’t notice. Looking yourself over in the mirror, you let out a relieved breath when you manage to be ready with only a couple of minutes to spare.

“Y’ look gorgeous.” Sultry words are whispered in your ear, followed up by a kiss to your neck as your boyfriend comes up behind you. His hands rest softly on your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder, bending down to your height.

You watch his actions from the mirror, the way his lidded eyes look over the curves of your figure, the way he slides his arms so delicately around your middle to envelop you in a tight hug, it’s these moments that you treasure the most.

The quiet moments where you simply enjoy one another’s presence.

Your lives are so busy that you don’t always get time to yourselves, so melting into his arms in that moment, you wish it would last forever.

Of course forever is a long time, and Shiu certainly doesn’t have the patience to wait in his car that long for you both. You’re not entirely sure why Sukuna doesn’t want to take your bikes, but you don’t push the subject. Your boyfriend’s mind is a mysterious place.

Your group gathers at a restaurant that’s a bit fancy for everyone’s tastes, but Uraume had insisted on it given the occasion. The real surprise was that Sukuna had dressed up a bit as well, sporting a sleek black pair of slacks, a black long sleeve button-up, and a red tie. His ensemble went well with your black dress.

Over the years, Sukuna’s friends had become your friends, long before you started dating, even.

Choso and Yuji were like your little brothers, and Uraume and Toji your closest drinking buddies. They got along surprisingly well with your friends too, especially Choso and Yuji who, unlike Sukuna, seemed to have a talent for getting along with everyone. Shiu generally only tagged along when Toji was around, but their banter was always welcome.

As Toji shows off photos of his son Megumi alongside his daughter Tsumiki, you notice Sukuna whispering something to Choso, casting oddly uneasy glances in your direction. Frowning, you glance over yourself once as though there’s something wrong with your outfit. No… it looks fine. So what’s Sukuna being so secretive about?

You brush it off as nothing, sure you’re overthinking things… until he pulls Toji aside after the man finishes showing off photos of his son.

You tilt your head quizzically to Uraume as you lean over towards them, ensuring Sukuna can’t hear you.

“Is Kuna acting weird to you?”

“Yes,” Uraume follows your gaze, narrowing their eyes. “Perhaps he misses Toji?”

“Are we talking about the same person?” A small smirk quirks up the corners of your lips.

Uraume laughs lightly with you. “You’re right,” they agree, but the thought doesn’t leave your mind.

It’s not like Sukuna doesn’t have off days like everyone else, but this is a strange change of demeanor for him. He seems strangely fidgety, as though he can’t sit still. His leg had bounced under the table throughout most of dinner and he was strangely eager to get the bill.

He had been horny all day, the best guess you have is that maybe it’s that and he wants to get home.

Still, it doesn’t explain him being so secretive throughout the night. In fact, he’d barely spoken a lick to you. Which isn’t entirely uncommon, but in place of words he would normally find comfort in your touch. Yet tonight it felt as though you’d hardly seen him despite sitting next to him most of the night.

You resort to asking him about it later, though an uneasy feeling tugs at you the more you notice it.

You’re almost grateful the dinner is over when it is as you intertwine your fingers with Sukuna like nothing is wrong. Shiu leads the way across the expanse of grass by the restaurant to his car one lot over, chatting with Toji as you and your boyfriend trail behind.

With Choso and Uraume a short distance behind you, you figure now is as good of a time to ask as any.

“Is everything alright, baby?” You tilt your head to look at your boyfriend.

Something glimmers in his eyes, an emotion you don’t recognize. That’s odd.

“‘Course.”

Well, that’s not reassuring.

“Okay… Nothing’s wrong?”

He shoots you a small smirk, kissing the top of your head.

“Nothin’s wrong, princess. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

You sigh, unable to help the feeling that he has something up his sleeve, but also able to recognize that whatever he’s plotting, he clearly has no intention of telling you. Regardless, you’re relieved that his nonchalant attitude seems to have returned. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about after all.

You miss the way he glances between the two groups, nodding to both as you sigh and give in.

“Alright, Kuna. I love you.”

Sukuna stops to face you and you blink at him perplexedly. Time seems to stand still as his chest rises and falls so quickly, he’s sure you can hear his heart beating out of his chest as he fumbles in his pocket for a moment.

You open your mouth to question him but your words die on your tongue when your boyfriend swallows hard before making a quick movement down onto one knee and your eyes go wide, your heart pounding in tandem with his.

It’s just the two of you in that moment, all sounds drowned out by beating hearts, lights and movement a blur behind you both. Everything is just Sukuna. Just you.

“Y/n,” he begins hoarsely. His voice shakes slightly and he curses himself for it but he doesn’t dare look away from your gorgeous wide eyes.

Your lips part, a lump forming in your throat. It feels as though it could choke you and you swallow hard but it only seems to encourage the tears you had yet to notice welling in your eyes.

“I had this whole speech planned,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Practiced n’ everything.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you bring one up to your mouth to suppress your shock and awe when he pulls out a small red velvet box.

“But I don’t think that shit's for me. So I decided to keep it simple.”

Nestled delicately within the box is a gorgeous silver ring with a beautiful diamond held delicately in the center. The ring splits into three separate parts just before the gem that all twist with smaller jewels around the metal.

“Marry me?”

Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.

From the way he holds you to the way he listens and kisses you between words. From the way he brings you lunch at work when you forget to the way he drives more carefully when you’re cuddled behind him on his bike.

Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.

And you love him too.

“Yes!”

masterlist || husband!sukuna headcanons & more || husband!sukuna smut oneshot

a/n ; please follow/like/reblog/share if you enjoyed ♡

GODS AND MONSTERS — sukuna x female reader [oneshot]

summary: a thousand years stretch thin between love and loss. sukuna carries the weight of a life unfulfilled, and you, unknowingly, ache for something you can't name. when fate threads your paths together once more, will the echoes of a forgotten bond be enough to heal what time has unraveled?

content warnings: big three (fluff, angst, smut). smutty content [soft sex/p in v/unprotected/creampies/breeding kink/body worship/praise/posessiveness/ oral & fingering (f. receiving)] reader death and reincarnation in modern day world, mentions of violence/killing and gore, soft sukuna, implied heinen era, uraume mentioned, angst with a happy ending

read on ao3!

the king of curses sat in the suffocating stillness of his endless existence, the weight of time pressing heavy on his shoulders. his once-mighty form, feared by all, now hunched under the burden of a life that had lost its purpose. uraume had long since perished, their unwavering loyalty a mere memory now, one more fragment of the life he had left behind. sukuna’s claws had been idle for centuries, yet the echoes of his rampages reverberated in the emptiness of his soul. 

for what?

he’d asked himself this question for centuries, the edges of the thought dulling like the once-sharp memories of the one he fought for. you. whoever you were. he remembered only pieces — a laugh like sunlight on water, a touch that once brought him to his knees. but the details? gone.

his queen. his beloved.

your name, your face, your voice — they’d all blurred into a hazy outline, cruelly erased by the passing millennia.

until today.

he wandered through the chaos of the modern world with the same detachment he’d carried for centuries, only vaguely aware of the noise and light surrounding him. the buzz of something humans called technology swarmed in his ears, but none of it mattered.

then he felt it.

a shiver ran down his spine — alien, electric, alive. his steps faltered, his hands twitching at his sides. and when he lifted his gaze, there you were.

a colossal billboard loomed above him, glowing against the twilight sky. and there was your face. your face.

you were dressed in modern clothes, nothing like the regal silks and gold he remembered. your hair was different, your posture foreign, but your eyes — they were the same. the curve of your lips sent a jolt through him, and the name emblazoned across the billboard hit him like a curse:

y/n - world tour starts tonight.

“...no.” sukuna’s voice cracked, the sound foreign even to his ears. his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood, as a wave of raw emotion surged through him. “no... it can’t...”

the tears came before he realized what was happening, hot streaks down his face that carved into his hardened visage like rivers into stone.

“it’s you...” he whispered, his voice trembling. “you came back.”

the memories slammed into him then, a cruel gift from the depths of his long-forgotten soul.

“you can’t die before me, you hear me?” you had said with a teasing smile, pressing your palm against his chest. “i’ll haunt you for eternity if you do.”

“as if i’d let you go first,” he’d replied, brushing your hair aside. his voice had been firm, commanding, but his eyes betrayed his desperation. “you belong to me, in life or in death.”

but you had gone first, hadn’t you? you left him behind, shattering him in a way even the strongest opponents never could.

the world around him blurred as he staggered back, unable to process what he was seeing. you were alive. reborn.

the billboard taunted him with your image, a ghost of the past mingling with the present. your name, your face, your existence — it was no illusion. the bond he’d once treasured but had long since forgotten pulled at him like a chain around his neck.

“you didn’t wait for me...” his voice cracked, a low growl laced with anguish. “but you’re here now.”

with newfound determination, sukuna’s claws flexed. a spark of purpose reignited in his crimson eyes. he would find you. nothing — no mortal, no curse, no god — would keep him from you now.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna sat in the darkened corner of the venue, an invisible shadow among the throng of humans screaming your name. the irony wasn't lost on him: you, who once belonged solely to him, now belonged to them — a god in their eyes, worshipped by their cheers and adoration.

you stepped onto the stage, bathed in an ethereal glow, and sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. you were magnificent, the power you exuded rivaling the strength of your past self. your voice rang out, rich and hauntingly familiar, threading through his soul like a melody he had clung to in his loneliest nights.

but when your gaze swept over the audience and landed on him, it was as if the world stopped.

his heart, once hardened by centuries of blood and despair, cracked at the faint flicker in your eyes. the recognition was there, brief as a shadow crossing the sun. your lips parted slightly, your brow furrowing as if you were trying to place him.

and then it was gone.

the realization stung more than any blade ever had. you didn’t know him. the face you had traced with reverent fingers, the body you had clung to as if it were your lifeline — it meant nothing to you now.

sukuna leaned back in his seat, his crimson eyes never leaving you. he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until blood dripped onto the floor.

how could you not know me?

he had watched entire civilizations fall, mountains crumble, and oceans dry, but this — this was worse than any apocalypse. the tables had turned so cruelly that he almost laughed. you had been his queen, his everything, and now, he was nothing more than a nameless face in the crowd.

the song ended, and the thunderous applause jolted him from his thoughts. he saw you bow gracefully, your smile dazzling and far removed from the quiet, intimate ones you reserved for him.

but as the lights dimmed and you walked off stage, a flicker of something passed over your face — a hesitation, a pause.

you were looking for something. or someone.

sukuna’s claws twitched at his side. could you feel it, even now? the tether that bound us? or had that, too, been severed?

he stood abruptly, his towering frame casting a shadow against the neon lights. the humans around him flinched but paid him no mind, their excitement for your encore drowning out the strange presence among them.

you were close enough for him to feel, to smell, to sense every tremor of your soul. but he couldn’t touch you. not yet.

“is this what it feels like?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the noise. “to be forgotten by the one who once knew me better than anyone?”

he let his head tilt back, crimson eyes closing briefly. the memories surged forth unbidden.

“kuna,” you had said once, your eyes closed. your hands reached out, finding his face with unnerving precision. “don’t move.”

he hadn’t. and you had traced his jawline, the sharp curve of his nose, the furrowed lines of his forehead.

“i’d know you anywhere,” you had whispered, your voice soft and certain. “even if the world burned around us, i’d find you.”

but now? your gaze had brushed past him, the faint recognition extinguished before it could ignite.

he moved toward the backstage entrance, his aura commanding even in its restraint. the guards hesitated, their instincts warning them of something primal, something ancient. they stepped aside without understanding why.

as he neared the corridor where you stood, signing autographs and smiling for photographs, he paused. his hands trembled slightly, the weight of millennia pressing down on him.

how do you confront someone who once promised to find you in any lifetime but now looks at you like a stranger?

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the backstage was chaos, the kind that always followed a sold-out performance. your team swarmed around you, fussing over makeup touch-ups, post-show interviews, and wardrobe changes. yet, their chatter and praise fell on deaf ears. you sat on the plush chair in front of a vanity, staring blankly at your reflection.

you were supposed to be happy — ecstatic, even. this was the dream you’d worked tirelessly for, wasn’t it? and yet, as you sang those sugar-sweet songs to a crowd of adoring fans, the ache in your chest only deepened.

yearning was a funny thing. you had been chasing something your entire life, channeling it into melodies that felt raw and true. but the industry had its claws in you now, morphing your art into polished, soulless hits about first loves and fleeting crushes.

you sighed, pressing your palms to your temples. something was missing. you didn’t know what, but it gnawed at you, an emptiness that no amount of applause could fill.

then came the commotion.

the door to the backstage area slammed open, the sound cutting through the noise like a whip. the air shifted, heavy and electric, and for some reason, every hair on your body stood on end.

you turned, and there he was.

a towering man with wild, spiked hair and piercing crimson eyes strode into the room, his presence so commanding that your team froze in place. whispers erupted around you, someone asking who he was, but no one dared to stop him.

his gaze locked onto yours, and the room seemed to vanish.

your chest tightened, the ache that had been with you for as long as you could remember suddenly stopping. just like that.

you didn’t know him. not by name, not by face. and yet, as he stood there, staring at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch, it felt like you should.

“who...” your voice came out a whisper, barely audible above the silence that had fallen.

he didn’t answer immediately. his crimson eyes softened, just for a moment, and you saw something flicker in them — pain, longing, desperation.

“you feel it too, don’t you?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

feel what? you didn’t know what he was talking about, but tears pricked at your eyes anyway. a strange, overwhelming frustration bubbled to the surface, a storm of emotions you couldn’t name.

“i don’t understand,” you murmured, your hands clenching the fabric of your dress.

his expression shifted, his jaw tightening as if your words caused him physical pain. he took a step closer, and your breath caught again.

“you’re not supposed to,” he said quietly, his tone almost bitter. “not yet.”

your vision blurred as tears threatened to spill over. why did this stranger — this man you had never met — make you feel like this? like your heart was both breaking and being made whole all at once?

“why do i feel like i know you?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice trembling.

he exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of something unseen.

“because you do,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “or you did.”

the cryptic answer only frustrated you more, and a tear slipped down your cheek. you looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, but he stepped closer, closing the distance.

his hand hovered near your face, as if he wanted to wipe the tear away but didn’t dare to touch you. he wanted to reach out, to touch you, to trace the lines of your face as you once had his, but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

“don’t cry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something in it — something raw and aching — that made your chest tighten again. “not for me.”

“then what for?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. “why does it feel like i’ve lost something i can’t even remember?”

his expression broke for a split second, a crack in his carefully controlled facade. he looked down, his jaw clenching.

“because you have,” he admitted finally. “but it’s not your fault.”

you stared at him, the tears falling freely now. “who are you?”

he met your gaze again, his crimson eyes burning with something ancient, something eternal.

“someone who will never stop looking for you,” he said simply, and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with nothing but the echo of his presence and the strange, heavy silence he left behind.

because now, the power lay with you. the king of curses was no longer the one sought out in a crowd. you were the untouchable one, the star shining so brightly that even he, a god among curses, felt small beneath your light.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

grief was supposed to follow loss, but how could you lose someone you never had? it didn’t make sense, this hollow ache in your chest. the man had been a storm, sweeping into your carefully constructed world and leaving just as abruptly, like a phantom that no one else seemed to notice.

you sat in the empty dressing room, the after-show glow long faded, replaced by a cold, suffocating silence. your head was in your hands, your thoughts a jumbled mess as you replayed the encounter over and over.

“no one saw him?” you had asked, desperation creeping into your voice. your crew had exchanged confused looks, some shaking their heads while others muttered that maybe you were overworked, imagining things.

but you knew better.

he was real. the way his presence made the air feel heavier, the way his crimson eyes seemed to peer straight into your soul — those weren’t things your mind could conjure on its own.

yet, there was no trace of him.

no name, no explanation. no footsteps leading to or from the backstage area. it was as if he had materialized out of thin air and dissolved back into it.

you leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as tears pricked at your eyes again. why do i care? you thought bitterly, wiping at your face with the heel of your hand.

but you knew why.

there had been something in his voice, something in the way he looked at you. he spoke as if he knew you, as if he had been waiting for you.

and now he was gone.

your chest tightened, a grief so raw and sudden that it almost took your breath away. how could you feel this way for someone who had stormed in and left without so much as a name?

you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms. “why didn’t i stop him?” you muttered to yourself, the frustration bubbling to the surface. you should have done something, anything, to keep him there, to demand answers to the questions that now haunted you.

but you didn’t. and now, all you had was an empty dressing room and a gnawing ache that wouldn’t go away.

you closed your eyes, the memory of his face flashing behind your eyelids. there had been something so familiar about him, something that made your heart ache even now.

who was he?

and why did it feel like losing him was the greatest tragedy of your life?

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the small cafe was quiet, a sanctuary away from the chaos of your everyday life. the hum of soft chatter and the gentle clink of cups were a soothing background as you stared at the menu, pretending it was the most interesting thing in the world. the matcha latte was supposed to be your solace today. not a solution, but a temporary distraction from the gnawing emptiness in your chest.

then you felt it.

that same heaviness in the air, that same electric charge.

you didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. the man who had crashed into your world and disappeared just as quickly. your grip on the menu tightened as your pulse quickened.

slowly, you looked over your shoulder, and there he was. standing near the door, his crimson eyes fixed on you like he had known you’d be here. like he’d been searching for you all along.

the tension between you was palpable, a thousand unsaid words hanging in the space between. neither of you spoke, but the look in his eyes said enough. you needed to talk.

and now, here you were, sitting across from him in a corner booth. your cap and mask were still on, a feeble attempt to cling to anonymity. your hands rested on the table, dangerously close to his, as if your subconscious craved the contact your mind wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

his hands were larger than yours, decorated with black tattoos that curved and twisted like they belonged to something ancient and untouchable. his nails were sharp, almost claw-like, yet they didn’t scare you.

your own hands, smaller and calloused from years of training and performing, felt almost fragile in comparison. but there was a quiet strength in them too, a resilience that had carried you through the ups and downs of your career.

you didn’t know where to start. you couldn’t even find the words, but he didn’t seem to mind. his gaze was steady, almost unbearably intense, as if he was memorizing every detail of you all over again.

“you came back,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “i never left,” he said simply, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

you frowned, your fingers curling against the table. “what does that even mean? you disappeared. no one saw you leave that night.”

he exhaled slowly, his eyes briefly dropping to where your hands were resting — so close, yet not touching. “because no one was meant to,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

frustration bubbled up inside you, but it was laced with something else — something warmer. “who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling. “and why do i feel like i know you?”

he was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. when he finally spoke, his voice was lower, almost reverent. “you do know me. or at least, you used to.”

your chest tightened, the ache from before returning with a vengeance. “why does it feel like i’m grieving someone i don’t even remember?”

his hand shifted slightly, the tips of his fingers brushing yours so lightly that it was almost imperceptible. your breath caught, the touch sending a jolt of something raw and familiar through you.

“because you are,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “and so am i.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. there was so much you didn’t understand, but one thing was clear — this man, whoever he was, held answers to the questions that had haunted you for as long as you could remember.

“then help me understand,” you said softly, your voice laced with both desperation and hope.

his gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in those crimson eyes. “i will,” he promised, his voice steady. “but it’s not an easy story to tell.”

you nodded, your fingers shifting just slightly closer to his, closing the already minuscule gap. “i’m listening.”

and for the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in your chest began to ease.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna remembered the first time he laid eyes on you, though he doubted you would recall it the same way. it had been an unremarkable day by his standards — a patrol of one of his many estates, more out of habit than necessity. the land was prosperous, the people obedient, and the daimyo appointed here hadn’t caused any notable stirrings.

but then, as his entourage approached the training grounds near the estate, his attention was drawn to a rider galloping across the field. the figure cut a striking image — your posture proud, your hands steady on the reins. you rode with skill, commanding the horse with practiced ease, and for a moment, sukuna almost dismissed you as another faceless warrior in his service.

then you fell.

it wasn’t a subtle tumble either. your horse reared slightly, startled by something unseen, and in the blink of an eye, you were unseated, hitting the ground with a thud that echoed even from a distance. sukuna’s men stiffened, unsure of whether to laugh or feign concern, but sukuna himself let out a sharp bark of laughter.

it wasn’t the kind of laugh that came when he watched enemies crumble under his might or when someone dared to challenge him. this was different — lighter, unguarded.

“a warrior brought to the ground by her own steed,” he drawled, his deep voice carrying across the field. his crimson eyes sparkled with something rare — genuine amusement.

you scrambled to your feet, brushing dirt off your clothes with quick, agitated movements. your face was flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger, he couldn’t tell, but the sight only deepened his grin.

his words reached you, and you froze, looking up sharply. it wasn’t difficult to spot him — he was a towering presence, clad in dark robes with his unmistakable tattoos marking his skin. the king of curses himself, watching you with an expression that was almost mocking.

your brows furrowed, and despite the clear difference in your statuses, you square your shoulders, tilting your chin up in defiance.

“i did not fall,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the heat in your cheeks.

sukuna arched a brow, his grin widening. “is that so?” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “and here i thought my eyes were deceiving me. perhaps the earth simply leapt up to greet you?”

your lips thinned, but you refused to back down. “the saddle was loose,” you replied, pulling your horse’s reins as you approached it. “a simple mistake, nothing more.”

his men exchanged glances, some barely holding back snickers, but sukuna held up a hand to silence them. his gaze never left you, his interest piqued.

“a simple mistake,” he repeated, his voice low and almost teasing. “and yet you wear your indignation like armor. tell me, do you always deny the obvious, or is it just when faced with your lord?”

you stiffened, your grip on the reins tightening. “i deny nothing,” you said, your tone sharper now. “but i will not be mocked, not even by you.”

silence fell over the field, the audacity of your words hanging in the air. anyone else would have been cut down where they stood for speaking to him like that, but sukuna found himself… amused.

you turned sharply, leading your horse away with determined strides. “if you’ll excuse me, my lord,” you called over your shoulder, your voice tight with frustration, “i have duties to attend to.”

he watched you go, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“bold,” he murmured to himself, his voice carrying only to uraume, who stood at his side.

“foolish,” uraume replied flatly, though there was no missing the slight edge of disapproval in their tone.

“perhaps,” sukuna said, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure. “but foolishness is far more entertaining than obedience.”

later, he learned your name. he learned that you were the daimyo appointed to oversee this estate, selected by uraume themselves for your loyalty and reliability.

but it wasn’t loyalty or reliability that interested him. it was the fire in your eyes, the way you stormed off without looking back, the sheer audacity to stand tall in front of him despite the yawning chasm of power between you.

“interesting,” he had murmured that day, more to himself than to anyone else.

and in the days that followed, he found himself returning to that estate more often than was necessary, under the guise of ensuring its prosperity. in truth, it wasn’t the land or the people he cared for — it was you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the title of daimyo had not been handed to you — it was a role you had earned through sheer determination and relentless hard work. it was no small feat for a woman to rise to such a position, and you owed much of it to uraume, who, despite their often sharp demeanor, had seen something in you worth trusting.

“boldness isn’t the same as foolishness,” uraume had once said when they appointed you, their words clipped and eyes cool. “but tread carefully. the king is not known for his patience.”

you hadn’t exactly kept that in mind when you first met the king. the memory of your words and actions made you panic even now, weeks later. to stand tall in defiance of the king of curses? to argue with him over something as trivial as falling off a horse? foolish was an understatement.

“you’re lucky to still be breathing,” uraume had remarked when you’d recounted the incident, their tone a mix of exasperation and incredulity.

and they were right. the more you thought about it, the more you realized how dangerously close you had come to overstepping. so when word reached you that sukuna was to patrol the estate again, your nerves frayed at the edges. you resolved to be different this time, to show the respect that was expected of you.

when his entourage arrived, you greeted him with a deep bow, your tone subdued as you welcomed him to the estate. you kept your gaze low, your demeanor quiet.

it didn’t take long for sukuna to notice the change. his crimson eyes narrowed as he observed you, his expression unreadable but heavy with something that felt like dissatisfaction.

“you’ve changed,” he said bluntly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

you swallowed, keeping your head bowed. “i have reflected on my behavior, my lord,” you said carefully, your voice steady despite the tension in the air.

sukuna’s gaze bore into you, and the weight of his attention was almost unbearable. “reflected,” he repeated, his tone sharp with mockery. “and decided what? to cower like a whipped dog?”

your breath caught in your throat, but you didn’t dare respond.

he scoffed, the sound low and disdainful. “pathetic. where is the woman who stormed off in defiance, who claimed the saddle was loose? where is the fire?”

your head snapped up, surprise flickering across your face. “my lord?”

his lips curled into a smirk, though there was no amusement in it. “if you think i spared you because i want another obedient puppet, you are sorely mistaken,” he said, his voice low and cutting. “live as you were, with that stubbornness and defiance. but know your place.”

you blinked at him, your mind reeling. was this… approval?

sukuna turned on his heel, his robes billowing as he strode away. the air seemed to lighten with his departure, and you found yourself exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

a small smile tugged at your lips, and you quickly pressed them together to suppress it. still, your head felt lighter, your chest less constricted.

“know your place,” you muttered under your breath, mimicking his tone. and for the first time in weeks, you felt a little more like yourself.

your head held higher, you watched him leave, the weight of fear easing just enough to let a sliver of confidence shine through.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it was no secret that the king of curses rarely lingered in one place for long — his attention span as fleeting as a passing storm. yet, for reasons only he could justify (or perhaps couldn’t), sukuna spent more time at your estate than his own court, a fact that didn’t escape the whispers of those around you. no one dared to call you his favorite, of course; favoritism wasn’t a concept to be associated with a king as ruthless as him. yet, the pattern of his visits made it hard to deny.

“show me around,” he demanded one afternoon, his voice carrying the weight of authority as he stood at the edge of the estate.

you paused, glancing at him with a mixture of confusion and exasperation. “my lord, this is your estate,” you pointed out, your tone measured but with a faint edge of teasing. “surely you know it better than anyone.”

his crimson eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing through them. “did i stutter?”

you sighed, realizing it was futile to argue. whether bound by duty or something far more perplexing, you relented, gesturing for him to follow. “very well,” you said, leading the way.

despite your reservations, sukuna seemed unusually at ease during these tours. he didn’t bark orders or glare with his usual intensity. instead, he followed closely, his eyes lingering on you more often than the landscape. and though he’d never admit it, his steps slowed whenever you stopped to admire something, as though he were more interested in your reactions than the scenery itself.

at one point, you passed the estate’s orchards, the branches heavy with ripe fruit. you paused, the sight momentarily breaking through your careful composure.

“shall i have someone pick some for you, my lord?” you offered, gesturing to the trees.

sukuna crossed his arms, his lips curling into a smirk. “no,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing. “you’ll do it.”

your brows furrowed, confused by the demand. “me?”

he stepped closer, his towering presence impossible to ignore. “it tastes sweeter when you do,” he said simply, as though it were the most logical thing in the world.

you blinked at him, unsure whether to be flustered or annoyed. his gaze didn’t waver, and with a resigned sigh, you plucked a fruit from the nearest branch and held it out to him.

he took it, his sharp claws brushing against your fingers as he did, and for a moment, the air felt heavier. you didn’t look up, focusing instead on the ground, but you could feel his gaze burning into you.

“acceptable,” he said after taking a bite, his tone nonchalant but his eyes betraying a flicker of satisfaction.

then there were the horseback races. what started as an offhand comment about your riding skills turned into an almost ritualistic challenge.

“again,” sukuna barked one day, his voice ringing with competitive fervor as you both slowed your horses after yet another lap around the estate.

you panted, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as you shot him a glare. “are you ever satisfied, my lord?”

“not yet,” he replied, his smirk widening as he urged his horse forward again.

you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as you gave chase, the wind whipping past your face. the exhilaration of the race, the pounding of hooves against the ground — it was intoxicating. and though you tried to focus on the path ahead, you felt his eyes on you the entire time.

“don’t fall this time,” he teased, his voice carrying over the rush of wind.

you turned your head just enough to shoot him a playful glare. “only if you can keep up,” you shot back.

his laughter — low, deep, and genuine — rumbled behind you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though the weight of his title had been stripped away. he wasn’t the king of curses, and you weren’t just a daimyo. you were two souls caught in a moment of reckless freedom, the lines between duty and affection blurring with each race and shared glance.

was this flirting? you weren’t sure. but whatever it was, it made your chest feel lighter and your heart race faster, though whether from the thrill of the ride or his gaze, you couldn’t say.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

romance was a phrase people threw around with ease — quiet evenings, shared whispers, fleeting touches. but for you and the king of curses, it was something far more visceral. your unspoken language was in the clash of blades, in the crackling tension of your sparring matches, where sweat dripped, breaths mingled, and the world narrowed down to just the two of you.

your blade met his with a ringing clash, the sheer force of his strikes reverberating through your bones. sukuna’s strength was monstrous, his skill unmatched, and you knew he was holding back. his smirk as he parried your blows told you as much.

“is that all, little daimyo?” he teased, his voice dripping with mockery as he sidestepped your next strike with infuriating ease.

you didn’t answer, too focused on the swing of your blade, the shifting of your weight as you lunged again. the cuts on your arms and legs stung, a testament to his superiority, but you refused to yield.

“persistent, aren’t you?” he said, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he deflected yet another attack.

you glared at him, panting. “someone has to keep you in check, my lord.”

his laughter boomed, loud and unapologetic, as he disarmed you with a flick of his wrist. your sword clattered to the ground, and before you could react, he swept your legs out from under you. you hit the dirt with a dull thud, the wind knocked from your lungs.

he loomed over you, his broad frame casting a shadow as he planted his blade into the ground beside you. leaning forward, he rested an arm casually on his knee, his expression caught somewhere between triumph and amusement.

“checkmate,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

you groaned, your body aching from the strain of the fight, and stared up at him. “you’re impossible.”

and then, it happened. neither of you knew what sparked it — perhaps it was the absurdity of it all, the sight of you battered and bruised yet unyielding, or the way he, the king of curses, had momentarily shed his ruthless demeanor.

you laughed.

it started as a small chuckle, then grew into something deeper, uncontrollable. the sound bubbled from your chest, raw and unrestrained.

sukuna stared at you for a moment, his smirk faltering. then, to your astonishment, his own laughter joined yours. it was deep and resonant, free of mockery or menace. just laughter, pure and unrestrained, as though the weight of his title and your station had been lifted, leaving only two souls in the moment.

“you’re insane,” you said between breaths, still laughing as you wiped the blood from your lip.

“says the one who challenges me to fights they can’t win,” he shot back, his grin broadening.

and for that fleeting moment, it didn’t matter that you were lying on the ground, bruised and exhausted, or that he was the most feared being to walk the earth. there was no need for declarations, no flowery words to bind the two of you together. it just was.

the unspoken bond, forged not in tender touches or whispered confessions but in steel and resolve, felt stronger than anything else. and as your laughter faded into a shared silence, you felt it — that indescribable understanding that, in this chaotic, violent world, you had found something rare. something that just was.

dust settled on the sparring ground, the aftermath of your brutal yet exhilarating match with the king of curses. sukuna loomed over you, the faintest sheen of sweat on his brow, though he was far from winded. meanwhile, you lay sprawled in the dirt, catching your breath.

"get up," he said, his tone a little softer than usual, offering a hand down to you.

you blinked up at him, hesitant. “i can manage, my lord.”

“don’t argue,” he grumbled, his hand unwavering.

reluctantly, you reached up. his hand engulfed yours, rough with calluses and strong enough to crush bones, yet his grip was surprisingly gentle as he pulled you upright. for a fleeting moment, his fingers lingered on yours, tracing the small scars and nicks etched into your palms.

you didn’t think much of it at first, brushing dirt off your armor. but then —

“rear my children.”

you froze. your head snapped up to meet his crimson eyes, which for once seemed to betray a flicker of uncertainty. “...excuse me?”

he cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable — a rare sight for someone who usually exuded unwavering confidence. “i mean — you’re strong,” he blurted out, his words rushed and awkward. “your resolve, your... grit. admirable qualities. for a mother. of warriors. my warriors.”

your face heated instantly, the flush creeping up to your ears. “m-my lord, that’s… a rather sudden proposal!”

“it’s not a proposal!” he shot back, his voice raising an octave, uncharacteristically defensive. “just… an observation. a logical one. who wouldn’t want strong heirs?”

you stammered, trying and failing to form coherent words. “i — well — that’s —”

“it’s practical,” he continued, as if convincing himself more than you. “you’re disciplined. resilient. not to mention... stubborn as hell.”

“and you think stubbornness is a good trait in a mother?” you finally managed to ask, your voice squeaking slightly.

he faltered, his ears reddening ever so slightly. “well, it’s not... bad.”

the two of you stood there, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. sukuna, the fearsome king of curses, was fidgeting. his hand still lingered on yours, and it felt like the entire world had gone quiet save for the sound of your racing heart.

“what do you say?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

you blinked rapidly, trying to process what was happening. “i — uh — ”

and then it hit you, the absurdity of it all. the great and terrible sukuna was asking — no, suggesting — something so utterly domestic and human. you couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless laugh, burying your face in your free hand to hide the burning flush on your cheeks.

“is that a no?” he asked, his tone bristling with the faintest hint of impatience, though the uncertainty in his eyes betrayed him.

“i didn’t say that!” you squeaked, peeking through your fingers.

he raised a brow, his smirk creeping back into place, though it was softer than usual. “then what are you saying?”

you groaned, unable to meet his gaze as you mumbled through your hands, “i’m… not opposed.”

for a moment, the world seemed to pause. sukuna tilted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were suppressing a smile.

“not opposed, huh?” he repeated, his voice low, almost teasing.

“don’t make me say it again!” you snapped, your embarrassment reaching its peak.

“hmm,” he mused, finally letting go of your hands, though the warmth of his touch lingered. “practical indeed.”

as you glared at him, still flustered beyond belief, he turned away, his back to you. he was clearly trying to act unaffected, but the faint upward curve of his lips gave him away.

and sukuna? he thought to himself with the faintest hint of pride, maybe smiling isn’t so bad after all.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

how you went from a daimyo to the wife of the king of curses, you couldn’t quite fathom. one day, you were overseeing harvests and managing disputes, and the next, you were draped in silks too fine for your roughened hands, adjusting to the weight of a title you never sought.

sukuna, however, seemed unbothered by the incongruity of it all. he had simply decided that you were to be his wife, and what sukuna decided became reality. your hesitant protests, your concerns about abandoning your duties to the estate — none of it phased him.

“then stay here,” he’d said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “i’ll come to you when i wish.”

uraume, ever the loyal servant, had been aghast. they didn’t voice it, of course, but their disapproval was palpable. yet beneath their furrowed brow and pursed lips, there was a flicker of something else — pride. pride that their lord, fearsome and untouchable, had chosen someone with your mettle.

you were still adjusting to your new role when sukuna visited the estate for the first time as your husband. he was unceremonious about it, arriving without warning, striding into your chambers as if it were his rightful place.

“what’s this?” he asked, eyeing the bright silk robe draped over your shoulders.

“your people insisted,” you replied, tugging self-consciously at the fabric.

he snorted, crossing his arms as his gaze swept over you. “you look like a peacock.”

you froze, your grip tightening on the sash. “a peacock?” you repeated, your tone dangerously low.

“hmm,” he mused, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “not a bad thing. regal, loud, a bit ridiculous — suits you.”

your glare could have set the silk ablaze. “is this your idea of flattery, my lord?”

he chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your cheeks burn. “only telling the truth.”

“then here’s some truth for you,” you shot back, your voice sharp as a blade. “perhaps you should spend more time governing your lands and less time critiquing my attire.”

for a moment, there was silence. then, to your astonishment, sukuna laughed — a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed through the room.

“bold as ever,” he said, stepping closer. his crimson eyes softened ever so slightly as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “it’s what i like about you.”

your breath hitched at the unexpected intimacy, but before you could respond, he pulled away, his smirk firmly back in place.

“come,” he said, turning toward the door. “there’s work to be done.”

and just like that, your marriage was sealed — not with a grand ceremony or a formal declaration, but with sharp words, shared laughter, and a silent understanding that spoke volumes.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

uraume had been left in charge of state matters, their protests falling on deaf ears as sukuna waved them off with a smug grin. "you’re competent enough to handle it," he’d said, the dismissiveness in his tone making uraume's temples throb. they could only bow in grudging acceptance, watching their king stride off to the estate like a man with nothing but time on his hands.

his first night as your husband was spent testing your patience. “it’s tradition,” he declared with a grin that was more wolfish than charming. “we’re supposed to consummate the marriage.”

you had stared at him, unimpressed. “it’s tradition to do so willingly. i don’t see any willing party here.”

his grin faltered, replaced by a mock glare. “a king shouldn’t have to beg his wife.”

“then don’t.”

his brow twitched at your quick retort, and though he tried to argue further, your unyielding stare — a mix of warrior resolve and exhausted defiance — silenced him. eventually, he grumbled, “fine. no bedding. but you’ll sleep here, with me.”

you’d crossed your arms. “on opposite sides of the bed.”

“skin to skin,” he countered, clearly enjoying the bargaining.

“over my dead body.”

“bold of you to assume i wouldn’t oblige.”

the back-and-forth ended with a compromise that involved his bare chest pressed against your back, his arms draped over you like iron shackles. “this is hardly ‘opposite sides,’” you muttered as you felt his warm breath on the nape of your neck.

“you’re warm,” he murmured, his tone almost soft, and that was the end of it.

or so he thought. because the king of curses, who had never known caution, underestimated the awareness of a daimyo — a warrior trained to detect even the faintest signs of an enemy’s advance. when his hand began to creep lower towards your legs during the night, you intercepted it with a grip so firm that his eyes snapped open in shock.

“don’t push your luck, my lord,” you whispered without turning, your voice cutting through the dark like a blade.

to his credit, he chuckled, more impressed than annoyed. “fine,” he relented, withdrawing his hand. “you win this time.”

morning came, the soft light of dawn spilling into the room. sukuna, who rarely stayed still for long, remained entangled with you, his larger frame curled protectively around your smaller one. for the first time in centuries, his guard was down. and when your lips parted to murmur his name — soft and reverent, like a prayer — he froze.

“...sukuna.”

it was just a whisper, but it held a weight that he couldn’t explain. something in his chest tightened, a foreign warmth spreading through him as he stared at your peaceful face, your lashes fluttering against your cheek.

“damn you,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with awe.

because for all his conquests and power, for all the women who had once vied for his attention, none had ever made him feel like this. none had ever whispered his name like it was a blessing, like it was sacred.

and in that moment, as he held you closer, sukuna knew — he had never loved a woman the way he loved you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the days following your marriage passed with an ease that felt both strange and natural. your routines remained the same in essence — horse-riding through the vast lands, plucking the ripest fruits from the orchards, and patrolling the estate to ensure its prosperity — but now, there was a shared intimacy, a silent acknowledgment that you were no longer alone in these moments. sukuna accompanied you everywhere, his presence both imposing and comforting.

you’d ride side by side, your horses kicking up dust as laughter rang out in the open air. sukuna, who once considered these lands beneath his attention, now seemed to find joy in every mundane detail of life here.

“you’re slipping,” you teased him one afternoon, presenting a basket filled with fruits you had picked before he could even dismount his horse.

he huffed, feigning annoyance. “don’t get cocky, woman. i let you win.”

“of course you did,” you replied with a smirk, your eyes gleaming with playful defiance.

on other days, you hunted together. sukuna, ever the showman, would present his kills to you with exaggerated grandeur. “a token for my wife,” he’d declare, dropping a stag at your feet.

you’d roll your eyes, refusing to be outdone. “wait here,” you’d say before vanishing into the woods, returning hours later with a kill just as impressive, if not more so.

“not bad,” he’d admit, the amusement in his tone thinly veiling his pride in you.

“not bad?” you echoed, placing your hands on your hips. “i’ve bested the king of curses himself, and all you can say is not bad?”

“careful, wife,” he warned, though his grin betrayed no real malice. “keep this up, and i might actually start trying.”

nights were a different kind of ritual. after the day's activities, the two of you would collapse onto the bed, the exhaustion of the day settling into your bones. his arm would always find its way around you, pulling you close, as if ensuring you wouldn’t slip away in the night.

one evening, as you lay in his embrace, he traced the scars on your body with calloused fingers, his touch unusually gentle. “these,” he murmured, “are the marks of a warrior.”

you shivered at the sensation but didn’t pull away. “and yours?” you asked, brushing your lips over a jagged scar on his chest. “what do they mean?”

“they’re the marks of a man who’s lived too long,” he replied, his voice low.

you didn’t respond immediately, instead pressing your lips to each scar, as if trying to soothe the pain they carried. when you finally spoke, your voice was soft but firm. “then let me be the reason you stop living like that.”

his breath hitched, but he said nothing, instead pulling you closer.

sukuna laid beneath you, a sight so rare it could have brought the gods themselves to their knees. his broad chest rose and fell in a rhythm that betrayed his composure, his usually piercing gaze softened by an emotion he couldn’t name. vulnerability. no one had ever dared to see him like this, and yet, here you were — your lips trailing over every scar, each one kissed with a reverence that made his heart clench in ways foreign to him.

you felt his muscles tense under your touch, his hands resting on your hips like anchors, grounding himself as he surrendered to the moment. he wasn't used to this — not the softness, not the unguarded exposure. “woman,” he rasped, his voice gravelly, laced with something between a warning and a plea. “don’t you dare stop.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured against his skin, your lips brushing over a deep scar that cut across his side. your voice was steady, but your heart pounded. this was no king of curses before you, no tyrant capable of untold destruction. this was sukuna, your husband, your equal.

his grip on your hips tightened as your lips traveled lower, tracing the ridges of his abdomen. every kiss you placed felt like a silent vow, a promise to love him not despite his scars but because of them. they were proof of his survival, of everything he had endured, and you wanted to cherish each one.

“why?” he asked suddenly, his voice cracking slightly. his crimson eyes searched yours, vulnerable and uncertain. “why do you... look at me like this? like i’m...”

“like you’re human?” you finished for him, your lips curving into a small, gentle smile. “because you are. to me, you’re not a king or a curse. you’re mine, sukuna. and i’ll love every part of you, even the parts you hate.”

he exhaled sharply, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “bold words,” he muttered, his gaze darting away as if embarrassed. “but i’m not complaining.”

“good,” you replied, leaning down to kiss another scar near his hip. “because i mean every word.”

his breath hitched as you continued your ministrations, your touch both worshipful and tantalizing. the coil of heat in his stomach grew, blending with the unfamiliar ache in his chest. it was maddening — how you could make him feel both powerful and utterly powerless at the same time.

“you’re a menace,” he grumbled, his gruff tone betraying the faintest hint of affection.

you laughed softly, your hands sliding up to cup his face. “and you’re mine to please tonight, husband. no arguments.”

his eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. “yours,” he murmured, the word heavy with meaning. and as you leaned down to kiss him, he let himself believe it. tonight, he was yours — in every sense of the word.

for all the confidence sukuna wielded on the battlefield — his presence commanding, his strikes calculated and devastating — soft intimacy found him at a loss. it was a battlefield of another kind, one he wasn’t sure how to navigate. his lips moved against yours with a clumsiness that was foreign to him, and though his brow furrowed in frustration, you didn’t pull away.

instead, you smiled softly against his lips, the curve of it so gentle it could’ve brought him to his knees if he hadn’t already been lying down. your hands squeezed his shoulders, your touch warm and grounding, a silent assurance that it was okay. okay to fumble, okay to feel, okay to let himself be vulnerable.

his hands roamed your back, hesitant but firm, the sharp edges of his claws barely grazing your skin as if he feared breaking you. “this... feels different,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with an uncertainty that felt out of place coming from a man like him.

you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers brushing against his jawline. “it’s not supposed to feel like a fight, sukuna,” you said softly, your voice carrying both patience and affection. “it’s okay to take your time. it’s just us.”

just us. the simplicity of those words hit him harder than any blade ever could. no title, no battlefield, no kingdom to rule — just the two of you, bare and unguarded in the quiet of the night.

he huffed softly, his lips quirking upward in a half-smile, half-grimace. “you’re annoyingly patient,” he said, though there was no bite to his words.

“someone has to be,” you replied, the teasing lilt in your voice making his chest ache in a way he didn’t know was possible.

the cicadas outside filled the silence, their rhythmic song blending with the occasional call of an owl. the night air was warm, but the heat between your two bodies was something else entirely. every brush of your skin against his, every whispered breath, felt amplified in the stillness.

when you leaned down again, your lips meeting his once more, he let himself relax into it. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. and though he still fumbled — his movements rough around the edges, his breaths uneven — you didn’t falter.

instead, you guided him with your touch, your lips, your presence. it wasn’t rushed, nor was it perfect, but it didn’t need to be. for sukuna, this wasn’t about dominance or conquest. it was about trust, about letting himself be seen in a way he had never allowed anyone else to see him before.

sukuna wasn’t sure what surprised him more — the way his breath hitched when you lined him against yourself or the way his heart felt like it was being split open in the process. this wasn’t like the countless nights he’d spent with others, pursuing pleasure with little regard for who shared his bed. no, this was different. you were different.

as you sank down onto him, your movements slow and deliberate, his hands gripped your hips like a lifeline, his claws digging in just enough to leave faint impressions on your skin. his eyes were glued to you, watching the way your face shifted with every inch, the trust in your gaze piercing through every layer of armor he’d ever worn.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, almost trembling. “you’re... gods, you’re perfect. too perfect for me.”

your hands rested on his chest for balance, your fingertips brushing against the hardened muscles there. his body tensed beneath you, but his gaze softened.

“look at you,” he rasped, his words a reverent whisper, like a prayer to a deity he didn’t know he worshiped. “taking me like you were made for this — made for me.”

your movements began to pick up pace, and sukuna’s head tilted back, exposing the column of his throat. a strangled groan escaped him, and his grip on your hips tightened.

“so fucking good,” he growled, his crimson eyes locking onto yours once more. “you’re everything. everything i didn’t even know i needed.”

his words spilled from his lips like a hymn, unfiltered and raw. “do you know what you’re doing to me? huh? riding me like this, making me feel like... like i'll fucking lose my mind.”

your lips parted to respond, but all that came out was a gasp as his hands guided you faster, his own hips rolling upward to meet yours. his praise didn’t stop, each word more desperate and sincere than the last.

“strong,” he murmured, his voice strained, “beautiful, powerful... fuck, you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you? my queen.”

that title sent a shiver down your spine, and sukuna smirked, though it quickly faltered into a low groan as you clenched around him.

“that’s it,” he encouraged, his tone almost begging now. “take what’s yours. claim it. claim me.”

the heat built between you, and sukuna felt the familiar coil of pleasure in his abdomen, but this time, it wasn’t just physical. it was something deeper, something terrifyingly profound.

when the two of you finally reached your peak, his voice broke into a string of curses and your name, uttered like it was the most sacred thing in the world. and then, in the blissful haze that followed, as you collapsed onto his chest, both of your breaths ragged and uneven, the words spilled from both of your lips in unison.

“i love you.”

sukuna stilled beneath you, his body frozen for a moment before his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“say it again,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper, his vulnerability cracking through the rough edges.

you smiled against his skin, your voice soft but sure. “i love you.”

his chest rumbled with a sound that was part laugh, part groan. “i’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he admitted, his lips pressing against your temple. the king of curses held you like a treasure he never thought he’d deserve, vowing silently to never let you go.

the silence between you was profound, the kind that spoke louder than any words could. your fingers moved with purpose, trailing the contours of sukuna’s face as though committing every ridge, every line, to memory. with your eyes closed, you traced the edges of his sharp jaw, the slope of his nose, the scarred texture of his markings.

“even if i couldn’t see you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “i’d know you. i’d remember you... just like this.”

sukuna’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling beneath you, his body still intertwined with yours in every way. your words struck something deep within him, a part of himself he had buried under centuries of bloodlust and power.

“you’re a fool,” he murmured, though his voice lacked its usual bite. instead, it trembled, betraying a rawness he rarely let show. “thinking you could know me like that.”

your fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their path, brushing against the corners of his mouth, tracing the faintest curve of a smile that never fully formed.

“i already do,” you said softly, opening your eyes to meet his.

the sight that greeted you stopped your breath. his crimson eyes, always so fierce, were glistening, and a single tear had slipped down his cheek. it caught the dim light of the room, a testament to the vulnerability he so carefully guarded.

“ryo,” you murmured, the nickname escaping your lips without thought, carrying all the tenderness you felt for him.

his brows furrowed, as though he wanted to snap at you for daring to call him that, but the moment passed, and his features softened instead. his large hand came up to cover yours, pressing it firmly against his cheek as though grounding himself in your touch.

“don’t,” he said gruffly, though the break in his voice betrayed him. “don’t look at me like that.”

“like what?” you asked, your tone gentle, though your eyes held a mix of curiosity and concern.

“like i’m human,” he admitted, the words tumbling out like a confession. “like i... like i don’t deserve it.”

your heart ached at his admission, and you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. the warmth of his skin against yours was grounding, and you let your eyes flutter shut once more.

“you’re more human than anyone will ever know,” you murmured. “more human than you let yourself believe.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your words settling over the both of you. sukuna’s grip on you tightened, and he shifted slightly, still buried inside you, as though seeking reassurance in the way your bodies connected.

“you make me weak,” he finally said, his tone low and rough, but there was no anger in it.

“no,” you corrected, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze again. “i make you strong, because you can finally feel.”

another tear slipped from his eye, and you caught it with your thumb, your touch light and reverent. and for the first time in centuries, the king of curses didn’t feel like a monster, but a man — flawed, vulnerable, and utterly, devastatingly human.

the realization hit sukuna like a blow, an overwhelming surge of emotions he couldn't entirely name, but he knew one thing with certainty — you were his. utterly and completely his. his breaths were heavy, his crimson eyes fixed on you, still straddling him, your bodies joined in a way that left no room for ambiguity. every scar on his body, every ounce of power he held, paled in comparison to the sheer force of this truth.

and yet, that vulnerability — the unfamiliar, maddening softness you evoked in him — made him pause, his grip on your hips slackening for just a moment. you tilted your head, brows furrowed as you asked gently, “ryo... what’s wrong? you look so... lost.”

your voice was soft, concerned, and it cut through the haze of his thoughts. but sukuna couldn’t hear the words, not really. the blood roared in his ears, not with the adrenaline of battle but with something far more primal, far more consuming.

he didn’t answer. instead, his hands gripped your waist with renewed fervor, flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion. you gasped, wide-eyed as he loomed over you, his gaze dark and intense.

“you’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and hoarse, more a declaration than a statement. “say it.”

your lips parted, the weight of his words sinking in as your chest rose and fell beneath him. “i... of course, i’m yours.”

it was all he needed to hear. his hips snapped forward, his movements rough yet oddly tender, like he was caught in a battle between possessing you completely and cherishing you wholly. you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulders, clutching him as if he were the only anchor in the storm he was unleashing within you.

“you’re mine,” he repeated, each thrust driving the point home, as if trying to fuse the words into your very being. “say it again. let me hear it.”

“i’m yours,” you whispered, then louder, more sure, “i’m yours, ryo. always.”

his face softened for the briefest moment, but the intensity in his movements never wavered. “you’ll bear my children, won’t you?” he demanded, his voice laced with a desperation he didn’t even try to hide. “tell me you’ll give me a family.”

your eyes locked onto his, your hands cupping his face despite the heat building between you. “yes, ryo. a family. yours. always yours.”

something in him snapped at your words, and his pace quickened, his movements growing more fervent, more insistent. his forehead pressed against yours, and his words became a litany of possession, devotion, and need.

“mine,” he murmured, his voice cracking with the weight of emotion. “all of you — mine. no one else will ever touch you. no one else will ever have you.”

“no one else,” you agreed breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tightened around him, your own body responding to his unrelenting claim.

and when he finally stilled, his body shuddering as he came inside you, the sheer force of it leaving him breathless, he whispered one final time, “mine.”

you pulled him down into an embrace, your hands stroking his back as he lay atop you, his breath warm against your skin.

“always yours, ryo,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear.

and in that moment, with your words and your touch grounding him, sukuna realized that there could never be another for him. you were his salvation, his obsession, his everything. and he would claim you, over and over again, for all eternity.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

love was a funny thing. it crept in quietly, weaving itself into the mundane and the extraordinary until it became inseparable from life itself. it wasn’t always grand declarations or sweeping gestures, though those had their place. sometimes, love was as simple as sukuna rising earlier than usual to make you breakfast, grumbling about how you should “stop being so bloody picky about the eggs,” while still serving them perfectly to your taste. or it was you spending hours grooming his prized horse, treating it with the same care and respect as if it were your own, much to sukuna’s begrudging admiration.

but this time, love took the form of a life yet to come. it began with the subtle signs — your monthly cycle vanishing, a tiredness that wasn’t quite normal, and a growing fullness in your being that was unmistakable. the realization hit you one morning, and though the weight of it could have been daunting, it only filled you with excitement. the thought of a child — a piece of you and sukuna — made your heart swell.

would it be a girl, blessed with your grace and wit, or a boy, inheriting his father’s untamed strength? perhaps both, their traits melding into something new and extraordinary. only time would tell, but the mere thought of it was enough to have you practically vibrating with anticipation.

that evening, sukuna arrived at the estate after a grueling day at court. his shoulders were tense, his usual commanding presence slightly dulled by exhaustion. you spotted him from the balcony, and by the time he stepped into the hall, you were already bounding toward him, your excitement practically bubbling over.

“what’s got you all worked up?” he teased, though the corners of his lips twitched in amusement at your giddiness.

“you’ll see,” you replied cryptically, taking his hand and pulling him toward your quarters.

he allowed himself to be led, curiosity piqued despite his fatigue. once inside, you turned to face him, your hands trembling slightly as they rested on his chest. his crimson eyes searched yours, his brows furrowed in confusion at your sudden quiet.

“ryo,” you began, your voice soft but steady, “i have something to tell you.”

his expression shifted, a flicker of worry crossing his features. “what is it? out with it already.”

you took a deep breath, your lips curving into a smile as you placed a hand over your abdomen. “i’m pregnant.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, the weight of them sinking in. sukuna’s eyes widened slightly, the faintest trace of disbelief flickering across his face before it was replaced with something softer — something rare.

“you’re... carrying my child?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent.

you nodded, your smile widening. “yes. our child.”

for a moment, he was silent, his crimson gaze fixed on you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face in this moment. and then, to your surprise, a rare smile graced his lips.

“you,” he murmured, pulling you close, one large hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested protectively over your stomach. “you’ve given me something no victory ever could.”

you laughed softly, burying your face in his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “i thought you’d be more... theatrical about it,” you teased, your voice muffled against him.

he chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “don’t push your luck, woman. i’m still the king of curses.”

“the king of curses,” you echoed, looking up at him with a smirk, “and soon to be the father of a child who’ll probably have your temper.”

he scoffed but couldn’t hide the warmth in his gaze as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “then we’ll raise them to be stronger than either of us. someone the world will fear — and love.”

in that moment, with his hand resting over your womb and a future unfolding before you, neither of you could imagine life any other way. this was love, in its purest and most profound form, and sukuna, for all his power and pride, had never felt richer than he did now.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

motherhood wasn’t something you had ever envisioned for yourself. you had spent your life leading soliders, strategizing in courts, and ruling your estate with the iron will of a daimyo. being a wife had been an adjustment in itself, but now? now you were a mother too. or at least, soon to be.

your days of riding through the fields and sparring with the guards had been replaced by cautious walks and hushed admonishments from the trusted servants sukuna had personally assigned to you. they weren’t just women — they were warriors, chosen to protect you and ensure you didn’t overextend yourself. but they could do little against your stubbornness, often having to physically steer you back inside when you ventured too far or pushed yourself too hard.

you hated the idea of being confined, of being seen as fragile, but the truth was unavoidable. carrying the child of the king of curses was not just an honor; it was a burden that demanded more from you than any battle ever had.

even if you wouldn’t admit it, you felt it — the constant exhaustion, the strange pull in your body as it adapted to accommodate this new life. was this child mortal, like you? or would they inherit their father’s immense power, the blood of a sorcerer coursing through their veins?

you often pondered these questions during the quiet hours of the night, your hands resting protectively over your belly. whatever the answer, one thing was certain: you would love this child fiercely. and sukuna? he would love them too, even if he didn’t yet know how to express it. and if he faltered, you’d teach him, just as you’d taught him what it meant to love you.

sukuna, for his part, had insisted time and again that you should come to his main estate. “it’s closer to the court,” he argued one evening, his voice edged with frustration. “i can oversee your care personally.”

you shook your head, remaining firm. “ryo, this is unfamiliar territory for me. i need to be somewhere familiar while i navigate it.”

his crimson eyes narrowed, but there was a softness to his expression that belied his irritation. “stubborn woman,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“you love me for it,” you countered, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

he grumbled something under his breath but didn’t press the matter further. instead, he reached out, his hand coming to rest over yours on your belly. his touch was uncharacteristically gentle, almost hesitant.

“just promise me,” he said quietly, “that you’ll call for me if you need anything. anything at all.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch. “i promise.”

and so, you stayed. familiarity surrounded you during this strange, transformative phase of your life. and while sukuna begrudgingly relented to your wishes, he visited often, ensuring he was never too far away. whether it was to bring you fruits from the orchards you loved or to simply sit by your side and watch as your child grew within you, he was there.

you had been a daimyo all your life, a wife for only a brief period, and now a mother. the transition wasn’t seamless, but it was yours. and as unfamiliar as it all was, with sukuna by your side — even if he complained every step of the way — you knew you could face whatever lay ahead.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the months passed slowly, each one bringing your child closer to the world and sukuna further away. the growing unrest among the sorcerer clans demanded his attention, their attempts to topple him becoming more brazen with each passing week. you knew he hated leaving you, especially during such a critical time in both your lives, but the king of curses was nothing if not steadfast in his duty.

“they think they can end me,” sukuna sneered one evening, pacing the room as you watched him from your seat. your belly, round with the promise of your child, rested beneath your hands. “let them come. i’ll end their miserable bloodlines myself.”

you rolled your eyes, though you didn’t miss the tension in his jaw or the way his hands flexed into fists. “and you’d drag our child into it too, wouldn’t you?”

his crimson gaze snapped to you, a dark grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “of course. our child will grow to be strong — strong enough to make those sorcerers regret ever crossing me.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, you chose me,” he quipped, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

but the truth of his absences was harder to bear than either of you let on. while he battled threats to his reign, you were left behind, surrounded by handmaids and servants who were loyal and attentive but could never fill the void his presence left. they tried reasoning with him, explaining that you were in no condition to make the arduous journey to his main estate, and while sukuna begrudgingly accepted their logic, it didn’t stop him from huffing and stomping out of the room like a frustrated child.

“damn stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath one such evening, though not so quietly that you couldn’t hear him.

“takes one to know one,” you shot back, leaning against the doorframe with a frown.

he glared at you, though the heat in his eyes softened as he took in your figure. his shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining out of him as he crossed the room to stand before you.

“you’re impossible,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“and yet, you keep coming back,” you replied, resting a hand against his chest.

he didn’t answer, but the way his arms wrapped around you said more than words ever could.

late at night, when the estate was silent and the weight of his absences pressed heavily on both of you, sukuna would return to your side. his footsteps were quiet as he entered your chambers, careful not to disturb you as you slept. but you always woke when he did, your instincts sharper than ever as your body prepared for motherhood.

he’d settle beside you, pulling you close as he buried his face against your shoulder. “i hate leaving you,” he murmured, his voice raw with exhaustion and guilt.

“i know,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair.

“i’ll end this soon,” he promised, his grip on you tightening. “for you. for us.”

and though you knew it was a promise he couldn’t fully guarantee, the sincerity in his voice was enough. you turned to face him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“just come back to me,” you said softly. “that’s all i ask.”

and he did, every time. no matter how far his battles took him or how heavy the weight of his crown became, sukuna always found his way back to you. because in the quiet of the night, with you in his arms and the promise of your child growing between you, he was reminded of the one thing that mattered more than power or victory — his family.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“uraume...her highness… attacked...”

in that instant, sukuna's blood ran ice-cold. no further explanation was needed. his chair scraped harshly against the floor as he rose to his full height, the air thick with his suffocating fury. without a word, he stormed out, crimson eyes alight with a rage that made his retainers scatter like frightened mice. his strides were long, purposeful, the bile in his throat a constant reminder of what could await him.

when he arrived at your estate, the scene before him made the world tilt on its axis.

it was a battlefield. bodies littered the grounds — servants, guards, handmaids — all sprawled lifeless, their blood staining the earth. the once-pristine estate was in ruins, its walls splintered, its lush gardens reduced to barren desolation. the trees that bore fruit so abundantly now stood stripped, their branches bare and broken. the air reeked of death and decay, a stench that clawed its way into sukuna’s nose as his eyes darted, searching.

and then he saw you.

his daimyo, his wife, huddled in the center of the carnage, a blood-soaked uraume shielding you with the last vestiges of their strength. their once-proud posture was hunched, their breaths shallow as they clutched their blade with trembling hands. and you — oh gods, you.

you were slumped against a crumbling wall, your once-bright eyes concealed beneath a bloodied cloth tied crudely over your face. your body trembled, your hands pressed protectively to your swollen stomach.

“they took her sight,” uraume rasped, their voice weak but still burning with loyalty. they staggered, barely able to remain upright as the sorcerer clans circled, jeering and taunting, their eyes glinting with malice.

sukuna’s vision went red.

“what have you done?!” he roared, his voice thunderous as it split the air.

“the king of curses finally graces us,” one of the sorcerers sneered, raising their weapon. “your wife was a liability —”

they didn’t finish the sentence. sukuna’s claws ripped through their body in one fluid motion, blood spraying as the lifeless corpse hit the ground.

“none of you are leaving here alive,” sukuna snarled, his voice a venomous promise.

in the span of moments, chaos erupted. sukuna moved with the precision and ferocity of a man possessed, tearing through the assailants with brutal efficiency. his cursed energy crackled like lightning, obliterating anything in its path.

“you dare touch what is mine?” he bellowed, his fists crushing bone, his claws slicing through flesh. “i will rip every last one of you apart.”

one by one, the sorcerers fell, their arrogance extinguished by his wrath. sukuna barely registered their screams, his focus razor-sharp as he ended the lives of those who dared harm you.

amidst the carnage, uraume collapsed, their body crumpling to the ground as their strength finally gave out.

“uraume!” you screamed, your voice raw with desperation as you reached out blindly.

the sound of your cry snapped sukuna out of his bloodlust. the last of the sorcerers fell at his feet, their lifeless body joining the rest. the battlefield went eerily silent, save for the sound of your labored breaths.

sukuna knelt before you, his knees pressed into the blood-soaked earth, hands trembling as they hovered over your body. he didn’t know where to touch, how to start — your swollen belly, your trembling fingers, your face, now marked with the absence of those eyes that once pierced through him. his mind raced, frantic with a thousand thoughts, but none of them could drown out the truth hammering in his chest: you were slipping away.

"don’t," his voice cracked, low and raw, a plea that wasn’t supposed to exist in the vocabulary of the king of curses. “don’t you dare leave me, woman.”

you smiled faintly, lips dry and cracked but still unmistakably yours. your hands — gods, your hands, still steady despite your broken body — reached up, fingers grazing his jaw.

“sukuna,” you murmured, his name falling from your lips like a benediction. “i knew you’d come.”

“of course i came!” he snarled, the sharpness of his tone masking the panic beneath. “what kind of fool do you take me for? you’re mine. mine!”

your fingers moved with purpose, tracing the sharp edges of his face, his cheekbones, his chin, the ridges of his scars. your touch was deliberate, trembling but sure, mapping him like a cartographer immortalizing a sacred land.

“i told you,” you whispered, voice faint but steady. “even without my eyes... i’d find you.”

his chest constricted painfully. he grabbed your wrist, not harshly but firmly, as if grounding himself to you. “then find me now! stay with me, damn you!” his voice rose, a command that bordered on desperation.

your breath hitched, your hand stilling against his face. “'kuna… i’m so tired.”

“no.” his voice wavered for the first time. his hands moved to cup your face, forcing you to look at him — or at least, where his face should’ve been. “no, you don’t get to be tired. you don’t get to leave me.” his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away blood and dirt as though erasing the evidence of your suffering.

“look at me — listen to me!” his voice cracked again, his frustration bleeding through. “you are not allowed to die, you hear me? you are my wife, my daimyo, mother of my child. you don’t get to go!”

you smiled softly, that maddening, gentle smile of yours that he hated and loved in equal measure. “you’ll be fine without me,” you murmured, and his hands tightened against your face, claws digging slightly into your skin.

“don’t you dare say that,” he hissed, his voice trembling. “don’t you dare.”

your fingers resumed their exploration, your palm resting against his cheek now. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“shut up,” he spat, but there was no malice in it, only the raw edge of panic. “you can tell me yourself when you wake up tomorrow. we need to name the kid together — argue about it if we have to.”

a weak chuckle escaped you, and the sound shattered something in him. “so stubborn,” you murmured.

“you’re calling me stubborn?” he bit out, leaning closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “this from the woman who refused to come to the main estate even when —”

“shhhh,” you cut him off, your other hand weakly reaching up to rest against his chest. “kuna, let me… just let me…”

“don’t say goodbye,” he growled, his voice cracking as his claws dug into the ground beneath you, his cursed energy crackling wildly around him. “you don’t get to say goodbye.”

you didn’t listen. you never did.

“i love you,” you whispered, the words so soft they barely reached him, but he heard them all the same.

“don’t,” he choked, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“i love you,” you repeated, your hand falling limp against his chest.

and then you stilled.

“no,” sukuna breathed, his hands trembling as he shook you lightly. “no, no, no. you don’t get to — wake up!”

but you didn’t.

his hands curled into fists, claws tearing into the ground as his head fell forward, pressing against your cooling forehead.

“you promised me,” he rasped, his voice broken. “you said… you said you’d always find me.”

but the only sound that answered him was the faint rustle of the wind, carrying away the last remnants of your presence.

for the first time in his long, immortal life, ryomen sukuna felt what it truly meant to be alone. and for the first time, he wished he could be mortal — if only to follow you into the dark.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the battlefield was soaked in blood, a crimson sea stretching endlessly as the scent of death hung heavy in the air. sukuna stood at the center of it all, his figure drenched in gore, the sharp lines of his face painted with a grim expression. bodies lay scattered around him, lifeless and crumpled, their clans eradicated down to the last soul. his cursed energy crackled violently, an unrelenting storm that tore through everything in its wake.

he raised his hand, ready to summon another wave of destruction when something caught his eye — a pair of horses galloping in the far distance. they moved in tandem, their forms blurred by the heat rising from the blood-soaked ground. his breath hitched, his fingers twitching as he froze mid-motion.

a memory surged through him like a blade to his chest. faint laughter, the sound of hooves thundering against soft earth, and the warmth of a voice. your voice.

he lowered his hand slowly, the cursed energy dissipating with a low hum. his gaze fixed on the horses as they disappeared over the horizon, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t think was possible anymore.

“who… was it?” his voice cracked, the words barely audible, as if he feared shattering the fragile memory. his claws flexed, curling into fists at his sides. his heart, if it could still be called that, ached in a way that was both foreign and unbearable.

he stumbled back, for once his body feeling the weight of his own destruction. he wiped his face instinctively, only to realize his hands were trembling. “why… why does this memory hurt?” his voice was a growl now, anger and anguish intertwining.

he fell to his knees, staring at the ground beneath him. he could see the faintest outline of you — your smile, the way your hair caught the sun, the sound of your laughter as you challenged him to another race. the memory was fleeting, just like you, and it burned him from the inside out.

“who were you to me?” his words echoed into the emptiness, his cursed energy swirling weakly around him like a storm losing its strength.

the silence that followed mocked him. it wasn’t the triumphant roar of victory he was used to — it was hollow, deafening, and suffocating.

“damn it.” his claws tore into the ground, blood and dirt mixing under his nails. “why did you leave me? who gave you the right?”

but deep down, he knew it wasn’t your choice. it never was.

millennia of violence, rage, and destruction had never slowed him. yet now, as his mind clung desperately to the shadow of a memory, he found himself rooted in place. unmoving.

the horses were gone, swallowed by the horizon, but they left behind a gaping hole in his chest that no amount of slaughter could ever fill.

“who am i even fighting for anymore?” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

as he sat there amidst the carnage, the king of curses — feared by all, unmatched in power — felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in ages: emptiness. true, unrelenting emptiness.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna's voice faltered as he finished recounting the story, his usual gruffness trembling under the weight of memories he thought he’d buried long ago. his hands, always so sure and unyielding, shook as they rested on the table. his crimson eyes, usually sharp and menacing, softened with unshed tears that clung stubbornly to the edge of his lashes.

and then there was you. sitting across from him, your hands clasped tightly together as if the very act of letting go would break the fragile connection between you. your own eyes glistened, the ache in your chest a weight you couldn’t name but could feel deeply in your soul.

you didn’t remember, not in the way he did. but your body and soul reacted, resonating with every word like an old song long forgotten. and as your tears spilled, so did his.

“ryo…” your voice was barely a whisper, unprompted but steady, and it shattered whatever composure sukuna had left.

his head fell forward, and for the first time in centuries, sukuna wept openly. no growls to mask his sobs, no threats to cloak his vulnerability. his shoulders shook, and his large hands gripped yours like they were the only thing tethering him to reality.

“you remember…” he choked out, his voice breaking, the tears streaming down his face unstoppable. “you — you remember ...”

you nodded, though you weren’t sure how much of it you truly did. it didn’t matter. your soul knew him. your heart knew him. and right now, that was enough.

your hands reached across the table to cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that fell freely now. “we found each other,” you murmured, your own voice thick with emotion. “and isn’t that all that matters?”

he pulled you into his arms then, the table between you forgotten. you both sank to the floor, holding onto each other like lifelines, crying for what was lost and for what was found.

“i searched for you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice raw and uneven. “for so long. i didn’t even know what i was looking for, but it was you. it was always you.”

“and you found me,” you whispered back, your arms tightening around him. “we found each other.”

and so you stayed there, tangled together, tears mingling as centuries of pain and longing poured out between you. in that moment, nothing else mattered — not the past, not the future, not the world around you.

you had each other again.

and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the room felt electric, every shared breath, every soft sigh charging the atmosphere between you and sukuna. the way he looked at you, reverent and awestruck, as if he couldn’t believe you were real, made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t thought possible. his hands roamed your body with a mix of desperation and tenderness, calloused palms smoothing over your skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

his lips trailed lower, brushing kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your stomach, until he reached the apex of your thighs. he paused, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, and the sound he let out — a soft, almost broken chuckle — made your heart skip a beat.

“let me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “please, let me. i’ve waited so long... i need this, need you .” his crimson eyes glistened as they met yours, raw and unguarded.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat when he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips lingering as if they were trying to tell a story his words couldn’t convey. his hands gripped your hips gently, holding you in place as he moved closer to your pussy.

“you don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. “a thousand years, and nothing — nothing —has ever come close to this. to you. ” 

your breath hitched as his tongue flicked over your sensitive clit, a soft gasp escaping your lips. you tried to pull him up, to bring him to you, but he shook his head, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

“no,” he said, his voice trembling. “not yet. please, just... let me have this. let me show you how much i’ve missed you.”

he sounded so broken, so utterly vulnerable, that you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him. you sank back into the mattress, your hands threading through his hair as he continued.

his tongue worked you expertly, alternating between firm strokes and teasing flicks that had your body arching off the bed. he let out noises — soft, desperate sounds that bordered on whimpers — as if your pleasure was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“you taste like heaven,” he murmured against you, his lips pressing kisses to your swollen clit before moving to your thigh. “i could spend eternity here, worshipping you like this. you’re perfect... so perfect.”

“'kuna,” you breathed, your voice shaking as you tugged at his hair. “please, come here. i need you.”

he hesitated, his lips brushing over your skin one last time before he looked up at you. his face was flushed, his crimson eyes dark with emotion, and he shook his head softly.

“not yet,” he begged, his voice cracking. “just a little longer. please, let me show you... let me have this moment.”

you nodded, your chest tightening at the sight of him so undone, so vulnerable. “okay,” you whispered. “okay, ryo. m'yours.”

his eyes fluttered closed, and he pressed one last, lingering kiss to your clit before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. the love, the longing, the sheer need in that kiss spoke volumes, and as you tangled yourself around him, you knew that this moment was everything you both had been waiting for.

a thousand years may have kept you apart, but now, in this moment, you were whole again.

sukuna's lips were everywhere — your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder. each kiss carried a desperation that made your heart ache. he trembled against you, his hands roaming your body reverently as if afraid you might vanish beneath his touch.

“i can’t —” his voice broke, his breath warm against your skin. “i can’t believe i’m here, with you again. you don’t... you don’t know what this does to me.” his crimson eyes looked at you, raw and unguarded, as if you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbone. “i’m here,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “i’m not going anywhere, ryo.”

he let out a shaky breath and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his fingers tangling with yours as he guided them above your head. he moved slowly, deliberately, as he prepared you, his fingers stretching you with care that seemed almost at odds with the reputation he carried.

“so perfect,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “you feel like you were made for me, like no time has passed at all. do you feel it, too? how we just... fit?”

you nodded, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body arched into his touch. he groaned at the sound, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered, “you’re everything. my everything.”

when he finally aligned himself and pushed inside, his breath hitched, his entire body stilling as he buried himself to the hilt. he didn’t move. he couldn’t. he just held you impossibly close, his arms wrapping around you as if shielding you from the world.

his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and you felt his breath tremble against your skin. “you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion. “you’re mine. you’ve always been mine.”

you tightened your hold on him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “i’m yours,” you whispered, your voice shaking with the weight of the moment. “always.”

he began to move, slowly at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that felt both achingly familiar and entirely new. each thrust was deliberate, as if he wanted to etch the memory of this moment into his very soul.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “so soft, so warm. i don’t deserve you, but gods, i’ll never let you go.”

his pace quickened slightly, the tension in his body coiling as he continued to whisper sweet nothings against your skin. “you feel... gods, you feel so good. i’ve missed this. i’ve missed you . tell me you’ll stay. tell me you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you repeated, your voice steady despite the tears that blurred your vision. “always yours, ryo.”

your words seemed to undo him, his movements becoming just a touch more desperate as he chased the feeling of completeness that only you could bring him. his lips found yours again, and the kiss was anything but rushed. it was tender, a thousand years of longing poured into one moment.

“i love you,” he whispered against your lips, his voice trembling. “don’t leave me again. please.”

you kissed him back, your hands cupping his face as you whispered, “never.” and in that moment, as he held you close and moved within you, the world faded away, leaving just the two of you and the love that had withstood the test of time.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the room was bathed in a soft amber glow from the bedside lamp, the warmth of the heater wrapping around the two of you like an embrace. sukuna lay on his side, facing you, his crimson eyes fixed on your face as if committing every detail to memory. your fingers threaded through his soft pink hair, the motion soothing as your legs tangled under the heavy blankets.

he huffed, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. “humans and their strange contraptions,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the heater in the corner of the room. “a box that makes fire but doesn’t burn anything? ridiculous.”

you chuckled, and his lips twitched into a small smile. “i can’t believe the great king of curses is humbled by a heater,” you teased, poking his chest. “next, you’ll be telling me you’re scared of microwaves.”

“what’s a microwave?” he asked, raising a brow.

you burst into laughter, clutching his shoulder as you leaned into him. the sound echoed in the quiet room, and he froze for a moment, drinking it in. “gods, i missed that,” he murmured, his voice soft as his hand came up to cup your cheek. “your laugh... i could hear it forever.”

you stopped giggling to look at him, your smile fading into something tender. “i’m here now,” you said quietly, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “and i’m not going anywhere, ryo.”

he pressed his forehead against yours, exhaling deeply as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close. “you’d better not,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t think i could survive losing you again.”

the two of you lay like that for a while, the silence filled only by the hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house settling. then, sukuna began to speak, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“did i ever tell you about the time we went horse riding, and you insisted on taking that wild stallion?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

you tilted your head, your fingers still combing through his hair. “no... but it sounds like something i’d do. what happened?”

“it threw you off within five minutes,” he said, his smile widening. “but you didn’t cry. no, you got up, brushed the dirt off your clothes, and glared at the horse like it had personally insulted you.”

you laughed softly. “sounds about right. did i get back on?”

he chuckled, his voice rumbling in his chest. “of course you did. you were too stubborn not to. you rode that damn horse until it obeyed you, and then you rode it every day for weeks just to prove a point.”

“his name was akagi,” you said suddenly, the name slipping out before you even realized it.

sukuna froze, his eyes widening as he looked at you. “you remember?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you frowned, your hand pausing in his hair as you tried to piece together the memory. “i... i think so. he was a red horse, wasn’t he? with a white blaze down his face?”

a slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears glistening in his eyes. “yes,” he said, his voice trembling. “yes, that’s him. you remember, my love. you remember.”

you nodded, tears welling up in your own eyes as the memory became clearer. “and you hated that horse,” you said, laughing through your tears. “you said he had too much attitude for his own good.”

“he did!” sukuna exclaimed, his grin breaking through the emotion. “but you loved him, so i tolerated him. for you.”

the two of you laughed together, the sound filled with relief and joy as more memories began to surface, each one like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place. sukuna held you tightly, his face buried in your neck as he whispered, “thank you. gods, thank you for coming back to me.”

you kissed the top of his head, your fingers threading through his hair once more. “we’ve always found each other, ryo. even after a thousand years. i’m yours, always.”

he looked up at you, his crimson eyes shining with unshed tears. “and i’m yours. forever.”

as the night stretched into the early hours of the morning, the two of you stayed like that, recounting stories, laughing, crying, and holding each other. for the first time in a millennium, everything felt right. you were home, and so was he.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sitting there, listening to sukuna recount the stories of your past life, painted a picture of someone you could barely recognize. a fierce, confident daimyo who commanded respect with every step, who ruled with fire in her veins and passion in her heart. the kind of person who spoke her truths, weaving her desires into words that resonated with everyone who heard them. but now? the years had dulled that fire, replaced it with something meek, something you didn’t recognize as you.

as he spoke about the woman you used to be, his pride was palpable, and it stirred something deep within you. he looked at you as though you were still that person, still that bold, unstoppable force. and as much as it warmed you, it also broke your heart. you had let yourself forget who you were, what you wanted, and most importantly, why you sang in the first place.

or rather, who you sang for.

he was right there, in front of you, the embodiment of every yearning, every note you ever wrote. your songs weren’t just about a nebulous longing — they were about him. and suddenly, the idea of continuing to sing songs crafted by someone else felt like the ultimate disrespect to both yourself and the man who loved you.

the next morning, after sharing breakfast with sukuna — who, despite being less than graceful in a modern kitchen, insisted on helping — you marched into your talent agency's office. the nerves had settled into your gut like a heavy stone, but you ignored them. you knew what you had to do.

the executives barely looked up when you entered, more concerned with their schedules and the demands of the music industry. but when you stood in the middle of the room, hands clenched at your sides, and declared, “i want to perform my own songs from now on,” they couldn’t ignore you.

their response was swift and cutting, full of reminders about contracts, marketability, and their so-called expertise. they warned you about repercussions, about how stepping out of line could end your career.

“then so be it,” you said, standing tall despite the tremor in your voice. “i’ve built enough of a name for myself that i don’t need this label to keep going. i’m not afraid of starting over.”

their protests followed you as you turned and walked out, but you didn’t look back. you felt his presence before you saw him — sukuna waiting just outside, leaning casually against the wall. his crimson eyes locked on yours, a flicker of pride shining in them.

“did you mean what you said in there?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he straightened up.

you nodded, slipping your hand into his. “every word.”

his grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “that’s my girl.”

together, you walked out of the building, the air around you feeling lighter than it had in years. the weight of others’ expectations, the chains of a system that had dictated your life — it all melted away with every step.

as you looked up at sukuna, his presence grounding you, you realized something: yearning wasn’t a weakness or a silly indulgence. it was a force that led you to beautiful things, to him, and to rediscovering yourself.

“what’s next?” he asked, his voice carrying an edge of excitement.

“i’ll write,” you said with certainty. “and i’ll sing. but this time, it’ll be my words, my heart, my truth.”

he grinned, that familiar, almost feral pride lighting up his face. “then let’s show the world what you’re made of.”

and for the first time in years, you felt like that fierce, confident daimyo again. the fire in your veins was back, and you had no intention of letting it go.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

three years had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. your once-thriving singing career had quietly taken a backseat, but not without reason. life had shifted, blossomed in ways you and sukuna had long wished for, and the result was the sound of soft giggles and tiny footsteps filling your home. you were parents — parents to twin one-year-olds who were the perfect blend of you both, a miracle that neither of you could ever take for granted.

your days were now a whirlwind of business meetings and baby bottles. stepping away from the stage had allowed you to pivot into a new role: the owner of a successful label company. while you had initially mourned the end of your singing career, the new path felt right. nurturing young talent and giving others the platform you once had filled your heart with joy, just as much as rocking your twins to sleep did.

sukuna, of course, had his own rules when it came to parenting. he swore up and down that playing your music for the twins was the only surefire way to get them to calm down and sleep through the night. “it’s their mother’s voice,” he’d say, almost smugly, “of course it soothes them. they know quality when they hear it.”

you’d laugh, rolling your eyes at his tone but secretly loving how proud he sounded. and when the babies would finally drift off, their tiny hands clutching the edges of their blankets, sukuna would pull you close, kissing the top of your head like he always did.

one quiet evening, after the twins were finally tucked in, you sat behind sukuna on the couch, your fingers threading through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder. your movements stilled when you noticed it — a strand of silver weaving through his dark hair.

“you’re getting grey hairs,” you murmured, letting out a soft chuckle as your hand continued to trace his scalp.

“hm?” he glanced up at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. “does that bother you?”

“no,” you said quickly, a smile tugging at your lips. “it makes me happy.”

he raised a brow at that, clearly intrigued. “happy?”

“yeah,” you replied, your voice softening as you leaned forward to kiss his temple. “it means we’re growing old together. no more waiting, no more longing. just... this.”

for a moment, he was silent, his hand reaching up to cover yours where it rested on his shoulder. “you know,” he began, his voice unusually gentle, “i didn’t think this would ever be possible. i thought... after everything, after losing you once... that maybe this kind of peace wasn’t meant for me.”

you turned his face toward you, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “you deserve this. we deserve this.”

his gaze softened, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor melting away. “you’re too good to me,” he muttered, almost gruffly, before pressing a kiss to your palm.

“that’s because i love you,” you said simply, and his eyes darted away for a moment, the faintest hint of color dusting his cheeks.

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a rare, unguarded smile. “i love you too, you know.”

you laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair again. “i know.”

and as the two of you sat there, basking in the quiet warmth of your home, the soft hum of the heater in the background and the sound of your twins breathing steadily from their cribs, you felt it in your soul: you had waited lifetimes for this. and now that you had it, you weren’t letting go.

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ପ multi headcanons ଓ

how they brat tame you.

being a brat ‘n spitting their load out.

no nut november.

hit it from the back.

too sweet. (cw aphrodisiacs)

slippery when wet. (cw squirting)

hiding your moans in bed.

she’s a super freak.

gimme gimme more.

three’s a crowd.

ride it like you own it.

but that dick was a 10/10.

just the tip girl.

ride the dick like a carnival.

scream no bologna.

talkin bodyyy.

slut stretch me out.

fuck me like u want me.

getting a screampie.

ପ oneshots/fics ଓ

★ — SATORU GOJO.

fantasize: you screw your fwb to get over your shitty ex. was it worth it though? probably…not.

sweet tooth: two culinary chefs compete on who can make you cream the most. get it?

fifteen seconds of fame: popstar!gojo needs help on warming up his vocal chords. his solution? right between your legs.

bad romance: you get sandwiched between popstar!gojo & his best friend of a bassist, suguru geto.

poker face: instead of receiving his fifth grammy for the night, popstar!gojo gets a…boner.

alejandro: arguing with the famous popstar leads for him to fire you. what happens when you see him with another assistant the next day?

it’s a match! last friday night: you end up ‘accidentally’ matching on tinder with your best friend—then you hook up with him, then the L word gets thrown around. damn!

★ — FUSHIGURO TOJI.

mission failed: nut ruined: you’re hired to kill a famous assassin but instead you end up in his bed.

love me, love me [ not ]: you get arranged to marriage toji. how does a single kiss make you weak so easily?

think i need someone older: fucking your dad's best friend was so wrong but felt so right.

darlin can i be your favorite: you fuck your dad’s two best friends and one of them is you ex-boyfriend (shiu kong)

one of his girlssss: your dad’s best friend finds out about your side hustle of being a camgirl. oops!

★ — SUGURU GETO.

sweet tooth: two culinary chefs compete on who can make you cream the most. get it?

jailbreak: you’re a correctional officer for one of your inmates. sleeping with him? not your brightest idea.

bad romance: you get sandwiched between popstar!gojo & his best friend of a bassist, suguru geto.

ପ thirsts ଓ

★ — SATORU GOJO.

throat goat.

that’s what i thought.

thats what i thought boy.

lip gloss poppin.

super soaker.

suck a what.

★ — FUSHIGURO TOJI.

jealousy jealousy.

want you back.

thinkin’ bout you.

tease me please me.

talk you through.

want a taste.

hate me fuck me.

talk to me nice.

★ — SUGURU GETO.

no talking.

just a brat.

wear my hoodie.

★ — CHOSO KAMO.

my love mine all mine.

draw me, do me.

that’s a good girl.

want your taste.

get humbled.

vampire choso.

sharing is caring

good boy.

missed you.

stuck in the middle.

edge me baby.

★ — SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

said it’s her first time.

remember your safe word.

give me one more.

twos better than one.

tease me please me.

stretch me baby.

kinda kinky.

wanna please you.

lick me up.

★ — NANAMI KENTO.

can’t live without you.

do i pass?

test me.

give me more.

my messy girl.

★ — HIGURUMA HIROMI.

on call.

nose rider.

love me harder.

relax for me.

my girl.

★ — YUKI TSUKUMO.

let me be your woman.

sharing is caring.

stuck in the middle.

★ — HAKARI KENJI.

fill me up.

too flexible.

slip n slide.

★ — SHIU KONG.

on the hood.

© 2023-2024 SCREAMPIED. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work. all rights are rightfully reserved to me.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ jujutsu kaisen fic recommendations ( sfw ! ) ft. gojo , geto , nanami , toji

hi ! :) these are my personal recommendations, might contain suggestive content but nothing too explicit. and these are mostly drabbles because it’s hard to find swf oneshots or series, i’m sorry :3 also most of the fics are fluff

╰┈➤ gojo satoru

✧.* the great war ( @satorulovebot ) got me FUCKING SOBBING THIS IS NOT OKAY. don’t read this in a good mood, it will ruin your day ( not in a bad way tho, this is so good, one of my favs on this app, dk why this isn’t popular )

✧.* how to fake date a doctor ( @lostfracturess ) i know there is a really suggestive content(no smut tho), but :( it’s too wonderful

✧.* i know you still think about the times we had ( @/saetoru ) angstyy but happy ending

✧.* we can dip, if you’re ready ( @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ) unrequited love trope is one of my favorites ….

✧.* yandere!gojo ( @gojoest ) i’m not usually into yandere stuff, but this drabble is really good

✧.* this is home ( ryowritten ) this is rb link because the original blog isn’t available, i’m sorry. but you should definitely read this

✧.* husband!satoru x pregnant!reader ( @sanemistar ) this is soo so sweet ;(

✧.* crybaby ( @suhtorus ) another sweet tooth rotting drabble

✧.* dad!satoru ( @cute-sucker ) aaand another one!

✧.* #needthis ( @kentwos ) this is not the title .. lol

╰┈➤ fushuguro toji

✧.* valentines day ( @lemonlover1110 ) ft. megumi fushiguro ;)

✧.* argument ( @lymtw ) reader is SO ME …… ugh i love hurt/comfort (also read author’s other works please they’re amazing)

✧.* lockedup!fushiguro ( @animamii ) please read this series, this is veryyy good

✧.* bad dream ( @stellawish ) i love love dad!toji

✧.* toji fushiguro is no blind man ( @kissitbttr ) veery suggestive but also very good ;)

✧.* dad!toji drabble ( @kashverse ) this person got a huge amount of fluff drabbles of many characters and their works are freaking amazing

✧.* toji fushiguro had no intentions of getting married again ( @starmapz ) i’m actually rereading it like once in three days no jokes

✧.* olderboyfriend!toji ( @tojibnuy ) i audibly giggled btw

✧.* acts of service ( @levisjinchuriki ) like i said , i love hurt/comfort and this oneshot is amazing

✧.* toji with pregnant wife ( @onehundredelevven ) ughh this is so cute i’m gonna die

✧.* when you caught flowers on the wedding ( @pepperyduck ) it made me want to attend someone's wedding …unfortunately i've never been to one 🥲

✧.* one step forward, two steps back ( @jjk4isen ) this is just cruel.

╰┈➤ nanami kento

✧.* jealous nanami ( @shebrewscoffee ) this is SO nanami i love it

✧.* olderhusband!nanami ( @vampyhvnt ) this is canon actually ….

✧.* evening walks were sacred in the nanami household ( @kashverse )

✧.* nanami is part danish ( @iid-smile ) this is very sweet i’m actually exploded

✧.* his protégé ( @augustinewrites )

✧.* my wife ( @chastiefoul ) you could tell nanami is very married

✧.* heart attack ( @iid-smile )

✧.* disturbed sleep ( @iid-smile )

✧.* nanami bittersweet ( @/creamflix ) i’m sorry this is a rb link too .. and this one HURTS

✧.* the secret wife ( @chuluoyi ) hehe i love this .. you should also read love entries ( gojo ) from this author <3 this is very good

✧.* yuji after anesthesia ( @unabletonotlovesatoru ) this is healing my btw ..

╰┈➤ geto suguru

✧.* the paint doesn’t move the way the light reflects ( @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ) OOH I LOVE LOVE ROYALTY AU AND THIS IS SO SWEET AND CUTE OMG

✧.* i love you, i love you (kill me in the morning) ( @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat )

✧.* six degrees of separation ( @starmapz ) best geto series imo ….

✧.* i crumble completely when you cry ( @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ) arctic monkeys mentioned ⁉️ but seriously this is AWESOME also if you want some good geto fics please check this blog and read their works

✧.* i dream, now, of a normal life with you ( @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat )

✧.* suguru drabble ( @jjk4isen )

✧.* baby, my baby ( @sugudoe ) this is a smau including geto, gojo and nanami, AND THIS IS SOO AMAZING LIKE OML did i mentioned that i LOVE hurt/comfort ??

✧.* twin dad and teacher geto ( @slttygeto )

✧.* teacher!geto with pregnant wife ( @slttygeto ) teacher suguru ..teacher suguru ….

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE WORKS ! ALL CREDITS TO THE AUTHORS <3

Just FYI, this blog supports unions. All unions*. I will be blocking anyone I see spouting nonsense about the WGA strike. Screenwriting is real work, and I have seen some ice cold "hot takes" about this strike in the last day or so. Get off your bullshit just because you don’t want your favorite show to be delayed or canceled. I don't want that for mine either, but writers deserve fair working conditions and fair compensation. Asking them to "shut up about it" is equivalent to asking someone to donate their art to you for the exposure. Exposure don't pay that rent, darlins.

Part of a quality show is the writing.

*labor unions, not the police

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