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in which; ryomen sukuna is stubborn and completely obsessed with his ex. he can’t seem to understand why she’s so angry with him, and why she won’t take him back. one thing he knows for sure though, is that despite her anger; he’s still not blocked. what was that saying his mother used to say again; closed mouths don’t get fed? that’s for certain, ryomen’s mouth is open and begging y/n to take him back.
cw!: none, just a text fic. (i feel like sukuna’s ooc, but it’s hard to apply a character like him into a modern setting. i think he’s a very interesting character and there’s alot of his qualities you could focus on rather than just the fact that’s he’s angry, he’s definitely a character who fixates on something when he wants it (his obsession with megumi, for example.))
sukuna was used to getting hit on. normally, he flat out rejects anyone that even makes an attempt to flirt with him. tonight he's taken you on one of your usual date nights, but imagine his surprise when the woman who approaches your table is hitting on you instead of him!
"ryo. ryo, ryo, ryo, i don't know what to get!" you pout, extending a leg underneath the table to graze your husband's calf as he grunts, brows pinched together in concentration as he stares down at the menu
"doesn't matter. i'm ordering half the stuff they have here anyway... you hungry for dessert too?" he questions, and you give him a deadpan look before he dramatically rolls his eyes, eliciting a giggle from you that has the corner of his mouth tipping upwards in a smirk
"fatty," he murmurs, and you make a point to dig the tip of your heel into his shoe, yet even through the pain, he maintains that annoying grin, and you shake your head with a laugh
the restaurant sukuna chose to take you out to tonight was located on the outer edges of the city near the water. your seating is overlooking the ocean, and you're not sure where you should stare—either at the lapping waves shimmering underneath the sparkling sun, or at your husband (an equally irresistible sight). he's wearing a tight black shirt with the first few buttons open, revealing the intricate details of his tattoos and the large expanse of his muscles and chest
a waitress eventually approaches your table. she's pretty—tall, lean, and wearing a dark red lipstick that suits her well—and you feel your heart sink a bit. you're sure she was staring at your table earlier, and you'd already assumed she was keeping an eye out on sukuna. almost subconsciously, you sit a little taller in your chair as she greets you two
"hello! i hope you guys are doing well. what can i get started?" she starts in an extra sweet voice, and you avoid her eyes and instead drum a single manicured finger against the table to distract yourself
you know you have nothing to feel insecure about, but anyone would feel a bit down if attractive women were constantly hitting on their husband, right?
without looking up, sukuna starts
"i'll have a plate of crab cakes, four fish tacos, one chicken marsala, one miso marinated black cob, two fettuccini pastas, one lobster ravioli, and one lava cake—and the center of it better not be undercooked. my wife doesn't like whenever it happens and i want her dessert to be nothing short of perfection." sukuna finishes, and the waitress looks genuinely distressed as she quickly jots down everything he said
"uhm, and all that is for just the two of you?" she questions hesitantly, and sukuna's gaze snaps up with a scowl
"yeah. and?"
you try to stifle your laughter as she quickly shakes her head with a smile, still writing everything down. your husband was... a bit of a big eater.
"no, no, i was just wondering— oh. did you say wife?" she frowns, and you try not to wince at twinge of disappointment in her voice
"if you were thinking i'm single, you're out of luck." sukuna states boldly, not bothering to give her any further attention as he folds up the menu and hands it to her
"uhm... i wasn't wondering about you. i was wondering about you." — and suddenly her gaze is pinned on you, and your eyes widen a fraction
"me?" you squeak in disbelief, and she smirks. it's cocky and slanted and it instantly reminds you of your husband's habit when he's teasing you, and you can't even try to hide the smile on your face as you cover it with your hand, caught off gaurd and embarrassed
"yes, you. you are beautiful. so, are you happily married to this guy, or just marri—"
"that's enough." sukuna stammers, and he looks genuinely mortified by the look of curiosity on your face. you giggle, shaking your head
"thank you... you're very beautiful too." you smile, and she actually blushes at your words, telling you she'll be out with your food soon as she walks back inside the restaurant with a lot more pep in her step than before
sukuna reaches over to pull your hand out of your lap and onto the table, and he adjusts your ring with furrowed brows as you giggle
"ryo—"
"i can't believe that woman's audacity—hitting on my wife! when i get home, i am writing the most deplorable review of this restaurant." he snaps as you let out a sudden laugh
"don't be silly, you big grump! she was nice," you smile, and he drags a hand down his face as if this was the worst day of his entire life.
sukuna wasn't used to women hitting on you. no man ever tried because all six feet of your husband was always looming behind you like a guard dog just waiting to rip someone's head off for looking at you too long, but he never suspected he had to look out for women too!
his brows are furrowed as he rubs a thumb over the diamond on your ring finger, and your gaze softens before you cradle his own larger hand in your own and press a kiss onto his knuckles. he blinks at you a few times before turning away with a huff, the tips of his ears a light shade of pink
"you're mine. you'll never indulge in anyone that tries anything with you, right?" he murmurs, still staring at your interlocked hands as you pout
"of course not." you promise gently, and he seems satisfied by your response as he holds your hand firmly in his own
after a moment of thought, he opens his mouth once again
"do you think we should make out to confirm our status for everyone else here?"
you’re well aware that your relationship with satoru isn’t exactly normal. people seem to think you have no clue, but you’ve never been ignorant. for all the casual jokes and whining clinginess, you can tell your boyfriend is deeply, possessively in love with you.
it shows in everything he does. satoru likes to hide it behind a veneer of playfulness. you don’t mind. in all reality, you find it pretty cute—the doting, the teasing, the silly jokes that all veil that intense want that lurks in him. he wants you so bad it’s impossible to ignore. no, more than that: he needs you so much it bleeds into everything he does.
he’s teasing when he winds an arm around your waist, joking when he drops his chin on your head and pulls you away from whoever you were talking to. there’s a casual, unspoken jealousy to the action, but he’s so good at pretending it’s just gojo being clingy. it’s just what everyone expects of him. you’re the only one that knows better. you can see the angry glint in his eye, hear the way satoru’s heart picks up in his chest every time you reciprocate. you’re the only one he lets past infinity, the reason he’s been working to make it cover you as well. he just can’t bear to see other people touching you—you don’t blame him, do you?
best of all, you’re the only one that sees him desperate, that gets to watch him unwind. he worships you. you don’t have sex as much as you make love, his hands roving your body and plucking sweet moans from between your lips. satoru will murmur as he takes you, voice unbearably vulnerable and unspeakably intimate. “no one else can make you feel like this, baby,” he says on a moan. on the next, quiet and sure, “even better, i’m the only one that gets to see you like this. they don’t even know what they’re missing out on. i won’t let them ever find out.” he holds you tightly, kisses you ardently, and if you let him, he’ll fuck you until his legs give out. until he has no more love left to give.
so maybe you’re a little too encouraging. so what? who cares if you let your gaze linger on another man just to watch satoru’s eyes sharpen? what does it matter if you’ll play ignorant to another man’s advances, just to revel in the way satoru steps in and stakes his territory?
sex like that is even better. satoru gets mad, possessive—not at you, never at you. but your entire body becomes a canvas for him to stake his claim on, and it makes him rough. he’ll grip you until you bruise, kiss you until your lip splits, fuck you deep and hard so that you wake up the next morning sore, just so he can dote on you all over again.
“he’s so needy,” utahime complains to you one day, after he’d dragged you home from an event. he’d claimed he just wanted you all to himself for a moment, to get away from such boring company. it’s more honest than everyone suspects. he really does hate to see you talking to other people. “he wants to leave, and you leave. he hates when you talk to other guys. i swear, whenever you’re not paying attention to him, it’s like the sun’s frozen over. and then he has to act up until you’re looking at him again. how can you handle a guy that clingy?”
“i think it’s cute,” you reply. “i like how much he likes me. makes me feel like i’m the only girl in the world, you know?”
utahime snorts. “he sure seems to think so. remember last week? it’s like he didn’t even realise that girl was flirting with him.”
he hadn’t. or maybe he had, and satoru simply revels in your jealousy as much as you do his. you’d attached yourself to him like a limpet, fingers curling around his bicep as your head leant against his shoulder. you were polite to a fault until you chased her off, so clingy that satoru couldn’t tear his eyes away. in the end, he’d barely said three words to the girl before you monopolised all of his attention. he’d grinned wide and proud, and been twice as clingy as you were thereafter.
(when you got home, well. you’d been on top, riding him to a slow climax while he stared up at you worshipfully. his thumbs rub circles into your thighs, and with every rock of your hips, he lets loose an unabashed groan. he’s so free in his pleasure, so open about how good you make him feel. satoru never lets you doubt how perfect you are for him.
he comes first, for once. heaves and whines into your mouth even as he tells you to keep going, tells you that i’m sorry i want you so bad, baby. that doesn’t mean you need to stop—take me for all i’ve got, kay? he whispers those promises until you follow him over the edge, curled on top of him and breathing deep against his collarbone.
“you’ll never leave me, will you?” he asks, except he doesn’t say it like a question. he says it like a vow.
“never,” you promise. “you’d be dead before i let you get rid of me.”)
apocalypse - two
undergroundboxer!kuna x reader [soulmate au]
warnings [mdni] - angst | sad chapter | mainly reader focused | not much tbh
wc - 8.5k
series masterlist
∞
the days blurred together after the night you met your soulmate.
at some point, winter fell into spring and the cold was officially gone.
you only knew that because the hydrangea outside your balcony had finally bloomed after many mornings you had spent watching and waiting.
everything else looked relatively the exact same. morning sunlight still spilled across your spacious bedroom in soft golden rectangles. ani still slimbed into your bed every morning at precisely eight, curling against your ribs until you reluctantly reached over to scratch behind his ears sleepily.
the city kept moving but you simply couldn’t.
something had changed within you.
you slept more or maybe you just spent more time laying in bed with your eyes closed, because sleep rarely came anymore and it wasn’t because of he who shall not be named. it was simply because your body refused to rest and whenever it did, it was shallow enough that the bond never really let you forget him.
sometimes he’d be awake before dawn, most times he didn't sleep at all. sometimes he’d train until your shoulders ached and sometimes his nightmares crawled beneath your skin just before sunrise.
so, all seems to be well in his world, not much has changed.
the only difference is that you didn’t soothe him anymore.
for years, you’d spent your time doing little things without thinking, the purest intentions nudged forward by the sheer hope that your soulmate wasn’t all bad. gone were the mornings you’d spend stretching, the coloring books you’d purchased to calm him sat untouched on your desk in the study room and you didn’t spend nights hugging yourself to sleep.
it wasn’t even out of spite, at least not entirely. you simply couldn’t bear the thought of taking care of someone who had looked you in the eye and told you that there was no us.
after everything you had done for him.
there is no us.
his voice echoed while brushing your teeth, while making coffee and when you sat your pharmacology exam.
there is no us.
the cruelest part was that your body still betrayed you.
every friday night, anxiety settled beneath your ribs before sunset.
every saturday morning, you woke with bruises blooming beneath your skin that didn’t belong to you.
your soulmate still existed. he still fought and bled and despite everything, some pathetic part of you remained attentive to it, just enough to make sure he was alive.
you hated yourself for that most of all because hope was a difficult thing to kill, especially after you spent years nurturing that very hope.
but you could feel the hope within you die slowly, one disappointment at a time.
“she’s doing it again.”
you blinked slowly as shoko’s voice drifted into focus from somewhere across your apartment.
“hmm?” you hummed as you looked up at the girls who were standing before you in your living room, arms crossed.
“you’ve been staring at nothing for the past ten minutes…” utahime chimed in lowly, “kinda like you have been the last few weeks. ever since that night.”
neither of them asked what happened that night anymore, not because they weren’t curious. after you had remained silent the first ten times they asked, they decided that you would tell them on your own time.
but they had seen enough. they knew ryomen sukuna was something to you and utahime had very quickly concluded that the underground fighter was your soulmate.
they found you at home with swollen eyes and mascara halfway down your cheeks and they knew something inside you had gone frighteningly quiet since.
“i was thinking we’d go shopping today?” shoko questioned, eyes wide and hopeful, a grin stretching her cheeks as she rocked back and forth on her feet.
you had barely left the apartment as of late and your friends were growing extremely concerned, especially at the lack of shopping bags lining your door, as they did every spring sale.
you smiled gently, eyes drowned in grief, “maybe another day, m’feeling tired.”
the girls both shared a look, exchanging glances that spoke volumes, pupils lined with worry and apprehension alike.
you weren’t tired, you were grieving.
you weren’t even grieving a relationship or a man, you were grieving every version of your future you’d quietly built over seven years. the one where fate had known what it was doing, the one where your soulmate looked at you the way the men in your favorite romcoms do.
you had hoped those years of turmoil and sleepless nights meant something, that it would lead to something that would make it all worth it.
truly, the only thing you could think of to describe what you were going through was bella swan in new moon. that one scene that practically shaped your childhood in which she was grieving edward through the seasons, the depression pulling her deeper with each month that passed.
except, you didn’t have edward cullen who’d devoted himself to bella.
instead, fate had given you ryomen sukuna.
a man who had spent years implicitly convincing you he was impossible to love only for you to discover he’d been right.
∞
ryomen sukuna knew anger better than anyone.
he knew the way the emotion would sneak up on him, the way it grasped at his lungs until he shook with it and most of all, he knew how to use it.
that was one of the first things toji ever learned about him.
when he was sixteen, the anger made him reckless and at twenty-three, that same anger made him dangerous.
except, toji didn’r recognize this.
this wasn’t anger, it was something much worse, almost like self-loathing.
the heavy bag lurched violently beneath another punch, then another and another. over and over again. as if sukuna was aiming to hurt himself.
“sukuna.”
sukuna ignored the man, his fist colliding with the bag hard enough that something inside his hand shifted unpleasantly.
it didn't matter, though. nothing did. so he punched it again.
“you’re gonna break your fuckin’ hand, kid.”
sukuna stopped then, chest heaving as he catched his breath. sweat trailed down his chest, shimmering against his tattooed skin till it caught on the fabric of his waistband.
the gym was quiet, not unusual for a tuesday afternoon. most fighters didn’t bother training until evening, leaving only the rhythmic squeak of trainers against worn canvas and the dull thud of sukuna’s fists against the bag echoing through the room.
usually, sukuna liked the silence but lately, he despised it.
the silence only made her louder.
he still felt her, fucking everywhere, every goddamn day.
except she had changed, fundamentally so. before meeting her, the bond had been easy to ignore, to push aside and dismiss as a hindrance more than anything else.
his soulmate was merely an idea, a voice without a face and warmth without eyes.
now? now she was this pretty fiery thing with a pair of doe eyes that he saw everytime he closed his own. fuck, she was the prettiest goddamn thing he’d ever seen and he wished fate wasn’t so cruel to give him a dream when he was a fucking nightmare.
he couldn’t escape her anymore.
“enough.” toji’s voice cut cleanly through the gym as sukuna began punching once more at the mere memory of her devastating features.
toji walked over, caught the heavy bag with one hand and held it perfectly still, muscles straining against his compression shirt.
sukuna glared at the motion, “move.”
“fuck off, ya little shit,” toji scoffed, moving to shove sukuna back and away from the bag and he could see the pink-haired fighter’s nostrils flare in irritation, “get yourself together, you have a fight today, you don’t wear yourself out.”
sukuna merely breathed heavily, eyes deep and almost wounded, cheeks flushed with exertion as toji glared right back.
“you look a fuckin’ mess.” toji muttered with a scoff, taking a hold of the cigarette that rested behind his ear, lighting it quickly before resting it against his pink lips, “your girl?”
sukuna’s jaw clenched at his words as he bit at the velcro strap on his right glove, allowing it to tumble onto the ground before ripping the other one off.
only then did he collapse on the floor of the ring, chest heaving as the adrenaline began washing away, quickly replaced with utter detestation.
not for her, not even for toji but for him. he fucking despised himself.
his eyes were trained on the stained ceilings as the words left him, “she fuckin’ hates me.”
toji remained silent for a moment, taking a drag of his smoke before shrugging, “did you expect any less? you made her life fuckin’ miserable.”
sukuna ddin’t even feel the anger coursing through him at his words because there was none. he was right. toji was completely correct.
she had every fucking right to hate him, hell, isn’t that what he wanted anyways?
he just didn’t expect it to be such a hard pill to swallow, his soulmate hating him.
“that why you’ve been distracted?”
toji’s question made sukuna scoff instantly, eyes shifting to glance at the black haired man.
“distracted?” sukuna scoffed, “i won every fuckin’ fight like i always fuckin’ do.”
toji scoffed, taking another drag, “you’ve taken more hits this month than you have the last two years.”
sukuna’s jaw clenched because toji was right.
“you missed asahi’s left hook last week.” toji continued, voice monotonous and emotionless to anyone that didn’t know him.
but sukuna recognized the edge in his voice and it irked him, “it was a good move-”
toji scoffed instantly, “it was predictable as fuck and you know it. that’s a hit you could dodge with your fuckin’ eyes shut, don’t play with me, asshole.”
toji scoffed, shaking his head as he turned away, walking towards the ropes.
sukuna’s eyes remained on the ceiling, chest clenching in a way he wasn’t used to, a weight that was new or one he’d never noticed before.
and he wasn’t sure why his mouth opened to toji of all people but he did.
“she stopped calmin’ me down.”
toji paused before turning to gaze down at the man whose crimson gaze remained fixed on the crack in the ceiling that toji vowed to fix years ago.
“the nightmares are bad again…and i’m so damn angry all the fuckin’ time…” sukuna’s mouth spoke before he could stop it, “i knew she was takin’ care of me, i just didn’t think-”
he paused then, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring as toji allowed a small sigh to leave his lips.
sympathy wrapped around him at the sight of the young man grieving something he never even wanted. a part of him knew it was sukuna’s fault and sukuna’s fault alone.
the other part of him, the part that had taken the angry sixteen year old under his wing, knew that sukuna didn’t know better. he wasn’t taught better.
all he knew was pain and violence so what would calloused hands do with something so soft and fragile like a soulmate? he was bound to break it.
toji knew this was something sukuna had to do alone, it was growth that he would be forced to go through because toji knew how helpless one could be without their soulmate. and now that the two had met, there was no going back for sukuna and he would soon learn that for himself.
“if you can’t go a day without thinkin’ of her, maybe you’re not meant to be apart…” toji stated lowly in a rare show of wisdom before bringing the smoke to his lips, “tonight, you’re goin’ against gojo again. you know how he is with his elbow, i expect you to fuckin’ see it comin’ this time.”
with that, toji turned and jumped down from the ropes towards his back office, leaving sukuna to mull over the older man’s words.
not meant to be apart?
well, sure, they were soulmates, they were meant to be inseparable. but fate had made a mistake with him by tying an angel to him.
what the fuck did she do to deserve him?
after their meeting, he couldn’t even stomach the sight of another girl.
the others didn’t have her eyes, the mole by her collarbone, the plushness of her pretty lips.
they were all kinds of wrong.
she used to stretch every morning. he remembered because his own muscles always felt strangely light even after a brutal session.
his nightmares also became less frequent around the same time she’d started university.
reading, coloring, coffee, music, warm blankets.
she was all those little things, thousands of miniscule details that he’d never asked for but needed more than anything.
they were things she’d never stopped doing, warmth she never stopped carrying…until now.
slowly, sukuna flexed his aching fingers with a low grimace. everything fucking hurt.
not because he trained harder but because she’d finally let him carry the weight alone.
just like he’d asked her to.
∞
shoko had started letting herself into your apartment way more often.
not because she lacked manners but because you had stopped regularly answering your phone.
she simply had no choice and your spare key that was usually left in the vase by the door was now in her possession.
you heard the front door open somewhere beyond your bedroom, followed by familiar footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors.
“morning, anikan!” shoko’s voice softly greeted the fluffy brown cat guarding your door like a doberman. a sleepy meow followedbefore your bedroom door practically slammed against your wall.
“absolutely not.”
you cracked one eye open.
shoko stood in your doorway, already dressed for her literature lecture in an oversized brown leather jacket and jean shorts.
she narrowed her eyes at your body burrowed beneath egyptian cotton, wide eyes peaking from beneath the duvet before glancing at the blackout curtains.
“dude, it is eleven thirty.” shoko stated, arms crossing as she walked further into your room, socked feet padding against the carpeted floors before stopping at the edge of your bed, “didn’t you have a lecture at nine? you’ve missed a million fucking lectures!”
“i’m caught up.” you groaned into your pillow, pulling your pink throw blanket against your chest, as if it would shield you from her judgmental gaze.
“you watch recordings in bed.”
you shrugged, “yeah, they’re fucking recorded for a reason.”
shoko stared at you for a long beat before her eyes shut, letting out a sigh as if she was mustering up all the patience known to man, “i never thought i’d say this, but i miss your neurotic self when your priority was your damn routine.”
you felt your heart clench gently. you knew she meant well but her words had stung because no one missed yourself more than you.
you missed your discipline, your inability to stay at home all day, your daily walks and the way you looked forward to writing your stupid notes.
dread filled you at the mere thought of leaving the comfort of your penthouse.
you swallowed the lump in your throat, “sorry to disappoint, sho.”
shoko instantly sighed, moving forward to sit at the edge of your bed, hand resting against your waist above the blankets, “what happened? what happened to you? where’d you go?”
the gentleness in her voice almost made you cry, eyes blurring with tears as a lump grew in your throat once more.
you attempted to blink them away but all that did was make it trickle down your hollowed out cheeks, “i don’t feel like myself anymore.”
silence filled the room for a moment as you closed your eyes and buried your face into the blanket.
then shoko’s hand moved up your back between your shoulder blades before moving back down in comforting and warm caresses.
“you don’t have to feel like yourself today,” shoko stated quietly, “you can just pretend, yeah? eventually she’ll come back. come to class with me then we’ll get matcha from that place downtown that you love.”
you felt the knot in your chest loosen just a bit before you peaked up at her from beneath the duvet, red rimmed eyes and all, “the one in chinatown?”
shoko grinned gently, fingers pushing back the strand of hair on your forehead to behind your ear, “yup. they have a new strawberry one for spring.”
shoko’s chest tightened at the way your eyes lit up just the slightest bit, finally shifting the blankes to below your chin, “i know that you’re bribing me but that sounds super good.”
shoko smiled softly, “mhm. they even have this pink cold foam.”
you groaned, “okay, i’m up. give me twenty.”
∞
fourty minutes later, you found yourself walking across campus with your hands crossed against your chest, adorned in a mini slip skirt and a quarter sleeve shirt, feet adorned in a pair of designer flipflops. your face was bare, dark circles beneath your eyes that were hidden behind expensive dark sunglasses, your tote against your side.
the humanities building sat on the opposite side of the university from the science building and you’d never really had a reason to come here besides occasionally dropping shoko or hime off.
it was definitely an older building, tall stained glass windows caught the late morning sun, spilling ribbons of amber across worn wooden floors. shelves upon shelves lined the corridor, overflowing with books and students sat scattered across window seats with books in hand, reading quietly.
you frowned slightly, “this building is so pretty, why is the science one so boring?”
shoko looked entirely too pleased as she smiled, “i told you, it looks like hogwarts.”
by the time you reached the lecture theatre, most seats had already filled up.
“i’ve never seen a lecture so full.” you stated as shoko sat at the very front row, pulling out her ipad as you sat beside her.
“oh, you’ll know why soon.” she giggled softly, turning her ipad on as you furrowed your brows at her ominous words.
just as your mouth parted to question her further a man stepped through the doorway carrying a leather satchel and a ceramic coffee cup.
your eyes followed the man, tall and broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit. his blonde hair was neatly styled, reading glasses resting low against the bridge of his nose as he set his coffee carefully on the desk.
he was both extremely attractive and young for a literature professor.
“ugh, he’s so yummy.” shoko shook her head, eyes fixated on the man as her apple pen rested between her teeth.
your eyes furrowed, “does percy know you drool over your literature professor.”
shoko turned to you with a small grin, “mhmm. he joins me sometimes.”
you scoffed with a small giggle as she shook her head once more.
“he’s gorgeous…” shoko sighed dreamily, “professor kento nanami, what a fucking man.”
your eyes turned to him once more, heart stilling when you noticed his gaze already fixated on you. was he mad that you were here when you weren’t in his class?
then he offered a small smile, one that washed away your worries, replacing it with relief. you met his eyes as you offered a polite one of your own.
then you felt it, the subtle creeping of anger, hot and wild, beneath your ribs. fuck, this really wasn’t the time.
your eyes shut momentarily, willing yourself-him-to calm down, simply for your own peace and not his. your thumb momentarily brushed against your knuckles, soft but achingly warm.
professor nanami began speaking then, greeting the class before offering a short briefing about the learning objectives for the lecture.
your eyes were still closed, feeling the anger ever so slowly wash away.
“devils dick?” shoko whispered gently as you merely nodded once, eyes opening once more when the overwhelming sensation dissolved into nothing more than indifference.
“m’fine.” you stated once before shoko merely nodded, sensing your reluctance to speak about it before you both looked back at professor nanami.
he was speaking about symbolism in nineteenth century literature with a calm intellect that somehow made an entire lecture room lean forward to grasp onto every word.
you knew part of it was his achingly handsome features, but his teaching was truly interesting.
“you know he’s a non-existent?” shoko mentioned as your brows furrowed just a bit.
he had no soulmate? it was a bit poetic. the man who read and taught love sonnets and poems would never know the feeling of being tied to one person. of fate choosing someone that was supposed to make you whole, to fit the pieces of you that you didn’t know were missing.
“lucky bastard.” you huffed out, leaning back and crossing your arms as shoko snorted gently.
you believed non-existents were the lucky ones, not the ones with soulmates. because non-existents had the privilege of choice, the ability to love someone intentionally.
that was far more romantic, in your opinion. they weren’t stripped of the choice and forced into obligation. they were free.
six weeks ago, you would’ve pitied him and now, you envied him.
no phantom bruises, no sleepless nights, no wondering whether fate had ruined your life before you’d even lived it.
a type of peace you’d forever grieve.
you looked back towards the front of the room and for the first time in weeks, you wondered what that might feel like.
at that exact moment, professor nanami looked up, hazel eyes meeting yours for a moment, faltering gently before moving on.
he was all professional and brief, but something about his expression lingered and you weren’t sure if you liked it.
the hour lecture had passed relatively quickly, possibly because it was actually interesting.
It was nice. not life-changing but interesting enough to pull you from the fog you’d been living in.
the shopping district buzzed around you, people weaving between boutiques with paper bags swinging from their wrists while the sun beat down on the pavement.
somehow, your little matcha outing had turned into a full shopping spree, courtesy of solely you.
shoko held two shopping bags in each hand, huffing as you made your way out of another boutique, your own hands full of bags as well.
“you did not need another pair of ballet flats!” shoko huffed out as you glanced at her through your dark sunglasses, smiling gently.
“no, i didn’t,” you flipped your hair over your shoulder with a flick of your head, “i wanted it. plus, it was on sale so it was practically free!”
shoko groaned as you began walking down the pavement once more, your eyes already searching for the next place you would inflict damage upon your father’s black card in your bag, “it was still like five hundred bucks!”
you merely shrugged with a giggle at her glare.
for the first time in weeks, the conversation felt easy. not effortless but easier. you were making a very active effort not to think about the reason why your wrist was aching just a bit.
as you both rounded another corner, the familiar green logo across the street caught your eye and you slowed instinctively, “i want a pau chocolate.”
shoko stopped in her tracks, looking up at the bakery before nodding frantically, “yes, please! i need fucking fuel, my feet hurt!”
you rolled your eyes before making your way into the trendy little bakery, daniel caesar playing softly from the speakers as shoko immediately took a seat, shopping bags at her feet.
you laughed gently as she huffed before her screen lit up with an incoming call and you knew who it was from the small smile painting her lips when she caught sight of the name.
“it’s perc. i should take this.”
you rolled your eyes affectionately, “gross.”
shoko grinned, “whatever. i only spoke to him twice today, couldn’t even say goodbye to him this morning.”
you made a face, “please get a hobby.”
“my hobby is my soulmate.”
the words landed heavier than either of you expected, your face dropping just a bit as shoko’s smile faltered almost immediately, “s-sorry-”
you instantly forced a grin, scoffing out a laugh that was equally as forced, “ew, don’t apologize, you’re good. i’m gonna grab our pastries, you take the call.”
shoko instantly shot you a smile before accepting the call as you moved to stand in line, faintly listening to the uncharacteristic softness in shoko’s voice.
a familiar ache settled beneath your ribs, a bitterness you despised. not jealousy but longing. you wished you had what percy and shoko did.
once, that would’ve been you.
you shook your head softly before reading the menu on the wall despite knowing exactly what you wanted.
“i wouldn’t suppose you’d have any recommendations for me, would you?”
you turned instantly and your lips parted at the sight of professor nanami stood behind you in the queue, a neatly folded newspaper tucked beneath his arm.
a newspaper? how old was this guy?
it was a bit endearing, though.
he looked oddly out of place outside campus, less professor and more…man. his tie had been loosened slightly, sleeves rolled neatly to reveal his veiny forearms.
you smiled softly up at him, “unless you have a raging sweet tooth, i wouldn’t take my recommendation.”
his lips twitched upward a bit, “hmm. i wouldn’t have guessed.”
you merely tilted your head, wide eyes fluttering up at him with a gentle smile.
“i don’t believe i’ve seen you in my lectures before,” he spoke once more, “you are not one of my students, right?”
you shook your head, “no, i was just sitting in with a friend. i’m in pharmaceutics.”
“i thought so,” he hummed thoughtfully, “i would have remembered y-”
he cut himself off, a flush of pink coating his cheeks as your breath hitched gently, heat crept into your cheeks despite yourself.
“i-i didn’t mean-” he began as you shook your head, a small giggle leaving your lips.
he seemed instantly relieved to hear your laugh, lips tilting up as his blush deepened and it was almost...cute.
“you’re very-um-” nanami paused momentarily as your head tilted, eyes expectant as you waited for his next words, “you just-”
your brows raised just a bit when he stopped himself once more, almost stumbling with his words, uncharacteristically unsure before sighing gently.
“i never do this and please feel free to decline,” he began with soft eyes, almost hopeful, “but i know this great dessert place downtown, they make excellent pastries as well.”
there was a tiny pause, momentary before he continued, “would you want to…may i take you there?”
your heartbeat stilled, not because of the fact that this was nanami but because it wasn’t sukuna.
nanami’s eyes were gazing down at you, open and honest, so sweet, it made something in you squeeze at the thought of crushing that expectant look in his eyes.
your lips parted before your eyes shifted to glance at shoko who was giggling into the phone with percy.
soulmates.
the word felt bitter now and your eyes drifted back toward nanami and his kind, patient eyes.
the sort of man you stayed up hoping for when you were just a girl, the sort of man you hoped fate would tie you to. not a violent underground fighter or someone who broke your heart before he’d ever held it.
maybe it didn’t have to be that way. maybe love wasn’t something you have to stumble into, maybe you could make a choice.
maybe this was how broken hearted people moved on.
or possibly…some wounded, childish part of you wanted sukuna to feel exactly what you felt for years.
the very thought made you feel sick but it didn’t disappear.
nanami waited patiently without rushing you. he didn’t attempt to fill the silence and didn’t try to assume your answer either. he almost waited for the mention of your soulmate, the rejection he was accustomed to and fully understood.
“okay.”
the word left you quieter and more hesitant than you’d intended.
nanami’s eyes widened just a bit, “oh, uh, are you sure?”
you silently scolded yourself for the lack of certainty in your voice, immediately smiling reassuringly with a small nod, “yes. yes, i would love to.”
nanami’s expression warmed, not triumphant, but almost relieved.
“amazing…” he smiled warmly, “i can pick you up on friday?”
you nodded with a gently grin, “friday. here, put your number in.”
nanami grinned as you handed him your phone, cheeks flushed as he typed in his digits before handing you your phone once more, “i’m looking forward to it.”
you blushed softly as you smiled a bit, “me too.”
nanami nodded once, still adorning a soft grin as you both made small talk as he ordered and paid for your pastries which you thanked him for.
soon, he excused himself politely, kissing your cheek softly before walking away, leaving you standing there with a strange mix of emotions. the most prevalent among them all was guilt.
you were feeling guilty.
you almost wanted to scoff and shake yourself to sense. you were doing nothing wrong.
if your manwhore soulmate could sleep with other people, you could go on as many dates as you wished, even sleep with them if you wanted to.
you quietly grabbed your tray and walked over to shoko, taking a seat on the table just as she closed the call.
were you seriously going on a date? a date?
the mere thought sent you into a spiral that shoko’s voice instantly breached, “were you talking to professor nanami?”
shoko’s brows were furrowed, both at the sight of you talking and the unsure expression on your face.
“mhm…he, um, he…asked me to go out with him on friday.”
the revelation had shoko’s jaw dropping instantly, eyes searching your face for any sign of you messing around with her.
“professor nanami….asked you out….on a date?”
you merely nodded your head, grabbing the pastry on the plate and taking a bite of the buttery delicacy, a bite larger than you could handle as you chewed slowly, occupying your brain with chewing instead of spiraling.
shoko’s eyes were still wide, jaw somewhat slack, “oh my god…”
you simply shrugged despite the war taking place inside of you.
half of you wanted to run after him and tell him you couldn’t go out with him, that despite the devastation of it all, you did have a soulmate and even though you, so badly, wanted revenge, you simply couldn’t stoop that low.
the other part of you longed for the feeling of being wanted. sukuna had spent years making you feel impossible to love and nanami had known you all of sixty minutes and decided to take a chance.
both parts of you were rooted in a sadness so deep, your stomach churned at the mere thought of moving on from your soulmate. and shoko could see it.
“are you sure, babe?” shoko asked lowly, eyes furrowed as she leaned closer, “you just don’t seem like you’re in the right headspace for this…maybe wait-”
you shook your head once, “i won’t spend another second grieving someone i never had, someone that doesn’t even want me.”
shoko’s eyes widened just a bit as you revealed more than you have the past few weeks. she wasn’t sure what happened at that party but she knew that ryomen sukuna had killed something in you that night, a light she so desperately wanted to see glint in your eye once more.
so with that, she nodded instantly, “we’re gonna need another dress.”
∞
the days blurred as they tended to lately. soon enough, friday had come and the dread swallowed you whole.
shoko and hime had both attempted to distract you all week to make sure you wouldn’t overthink your decision, however, your thoughts could only show mercy for so long.
every feeling of sukuna reminded you of him, of what you’d agreed to, of what you lost.
by six thirty, you had completely regretted saying yes.
“you changed your outfit four times.” utahime huffed out, arms folding over her chest as she sighed.
“five.” shoko corrected from where she sat beside her, cross legged on your bed with ani on her lap, scrolling on her phone with much more patience than utahime.
“i don’t know what to wear!” you sighed, looking around your walk-in closet with exasperation.
utahime blinked, “since when?”
“you always know what to wear.” shoko furrowed her brows as you huffed gently, leaving the closet to take a seat on your vanity, shoulders slumped as your eyes fixated on your fuzzy socks.
“i’ve never been on a date before.”
silence filled the room before you heard both girls shift.
“this isn’t about the clothes.” utahime stated with certainty and your wide eyes glanced up at them.
no, it wasn’t. of course it wasn’t.
you turned to face the mirror, your hair already gathered up in rollers, still clad in your baby blue pyjamas. your eyes met through the mirror, bags under the delicate skin as your reflection stared quietly back.
you could barely recognize yourself.
you always thought yourself to be strong, the thought of crumbling over a man seemed absolutely absurd to you. yet here you were, already practically shattered because of someone who couldn’t care less whether you lived or died.
horror filled you as your reflection grew blurry through the tears pooling in your tired eyes.
“i just…” your voice shook, “i always thought-i didn’t think this is how it would end up.”
the tears left you before you could control it, trailing down flushed cheeks and dull skin, something heavy thumping against your ribs so hard, you wanted to scream.
utahime and shoko watched from their place in your bed, brows furrowed in sympathy as they watched you break at the prospect of living without your soulmate.
you’d spent years fantasizing about what meeting your soulmate would feel like, despite the absolute nightmare he was. you thought of your first everything, but you were always particularly fond of the idea of a first date.
the idea of getting dolled up and running late, of the doorbell ringing and your soulmate standing there with fresh pink peonies because he knew they were your favorite. you thought of how his eyes would widen in awe at the sight of you, who’d reach for whose hand first, who’d kiss who.
ryomen sukuna had crushed more than your hope that day, he stomped on your dreams, on what you believed happiness to be.
something inside of you shifted that night, something was lost and you didn’t know how to get it back.
shoko stood and without saying anything, she crossed the room and gently wrapped her arms around your shoulders from behind, “hey. you don’t have to do this-”
“yes, she does.” utahime stated bluntly despite her clenched jaw at the sight of your anguish.
shoko narrowed her eyes at hime from the mirror, “shut up, hime!”
utahime scoffed, walking into your closet and rummaging through your clothing, “she’s fucking going and she’s gonna have a blast.” she then stepped out with your favorite backless navy silk dress, “because if you don’t then you’re choosing someone who doesn’t choose you.”
the room fell painfully quiet, her words landing right where your ribs ached. shoko tensed from behind you before standing up, her hands still on your shoulders as she glared at utahime.
“are you ser-” shoko began but you were quick to cut her off, sniffling gently before gazing at your reflection once more.
“you’re right,” you breathed out, wiping your cheeks before grabbing your primer, “kento is great, he’s super sweet…” both of the girls watched you expectantly so you turned to gaze up at them, “i just wish…”
you didn’t let the words leave you and they didn’t need to hear it because they already knew.
you wish it were him.
∞
it was ten minutes before seven when your phone buzzed with a text from frankie, the concierge, a sweet old man whom you’d known since you were a child.
frankie: there’s a man here for you, sweetheart. should i send him up?
you quickly sent him confirmation to allow nanami up, thanking him before looking up at utahime and shoko who were watching you brush through your bouncy blowout, “he’s downstairs.”
a gasp left shoko loudly, “he’s early! ugh, he’s such a man!”
and a man, he was.
professor nanami seemed like the sort of man who would arrive early. he was eight years your senior, mature and kind, both traits you had picked up on from your occasional texts throughout the week.
he’d texted you first that same night he asked you out, all polite and formal as he introduced that it was him and asked if you were still okay with the date.
you remember giggling gently at his professionalism before assuring him that you were looking forward to it. he texted you here and there since then, simply asking questions to gauge what restaurant to choose for the date and your overall vibe.
“you literally look unreal.” shoko stated with a shake of her head as you gazed at the full length mirror in your living room.
“he’s gonna faint.” utahime stated, taking a sip of the tea she had helped herself with.
your dainty hands smoothed at the expensive fabric of your dress, the silk hugging you in all the perfect places, backless with a little silk scarf resting against your neck.
a pair of silver heels adorned your feet and a matching clutch in hand.
you did look pretty, at least prettier than you had the past few weeks. you tried to ignore the way the dress hung off you looser than it had weeks ago, collarbones more prominent than usual.
the doorbell rang once, snapping you out of the spiral you were quickly falling into.
you turned to the girls, eyes wide, “go! shoo! don’t let him see you, he’ll think i’m pathetic!”
shoko and utahime both giggled before running over to the door, standing right on the side so they were on the other side of the door when you opened it.
a huff left you but you knew that was the best they would offer and you took it.
your heels clicked as you made your way to the door, taking a deep breath before pulling it open and there he was.
nanami was standing tall in dark trousers and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, revealing skin void of any ink, defined and smooth.
your heart clenched when your eyes drifted to his hand. he was holding a small bouquet of pink peonies.
his eyes found yours instantly when you looked up and for a second, you could see the nerves buzzing under his skin before he smiled shyly, “you look lovely.”
lovely. not pretty or beautiful but lovely. somehow that was even sweeter.
your throat tightened before forcing out a soft smile, “thank you.”
he glanced towards the flowers before holding them out to you, “i remember you said you loved spring because of the pink peonies around the other day so, uh, here.”
you felt your heart tighten as a soft laugh left you, “they’re beautiful, thank you so much. let me just put them in water really quick then we can get going.”
nanami merely nodded as you took ahold of the flowers, allowing the door to shut just to see shoko and utahime silently squealing behind the door.
“he is so cute!” shoko whispered as you slapped her arm.
“shut up, he’s right there!” you whispered back as utahime merely grinned.
“you got your flowers.”
you paused momentarily, shoulders tensing as you swallowed gently.
yes, you did get your flowers, peonies and all.
why was the heavy feeling still lingering beneath your ribs?
you had spent years imagining this and somehow, you got almost every detail right.
except the man behind the door.
you shook your head at the thought before holding out the bouquet to the girls, utahime grabbing ahold of it, “put them in my mom’s crystal vase on the counter, please.”
both girls gave you a thumbs up, grinning in encouragement as you opened the door once more, nanami immediately meeting your gaze.
“ready?”
you nodded with a soft smile, “yup.”
“great. bye girls.” nanami called out, amusement lacing his words to the girls who you could so clearly hear shuffling behind the door. your cheeks flushed as you shut the door.
“have fun!” shoko yelled.
you were quick to lock the door, placing the keys in your clutch before turning to the man, “sorry about that.”
nanami merely chuckled deeply, offering his arm, unassuming and sweet.
you hesitated for the briefest moment before gently looping your hand through it, his arm tensing almost imperceptibly. he was nervous.
the realization made something ache quietly inside your chest.
he wasn’t ryomen sukuna, all untouchable and feared.
he was simply a man hoping tonight would go well and for some reason, the revelation was so endearing, you found yourself shifting closer to him as you made it to the elevator.
“do you live here all alone?” nanami questioned as he pressed the lobby button.
you hummed gently, “technically, my parents live here as well but they just travel a lot, so i’m on my own more often than not.”
nanami gazed down at you, “i mean, it’s a beautiful building…does it not get lonely?”
you sighed softly before shrugging, “i mean, yes and no. i love being alone and hanging out with myself, and i’m kind of used to it. but sometimes…sometimes i wish it wasn’t so quiet. but my friends are over a lot anyways.”
and your soulmate never truly let you feel alone, he lived under your skin.
but nanami didn’t need to know that.
nanami merely hummed in acknowledgement, the rest of the lift ride passing in comfortable silence, neither of you seemed particularly eager to fill it with meaningless conversation.
when the doors opened into the lobby, frankie looked up from behind the reception desk almost instantly.
his weathered face lit into a smile, “well, don’t you look like a million bucks, sweetheart.”
your cheeks warmed as you grinned at the man, “hi frankie.”
the older man looked between you and nanami before his eyes settled knowingly on the bouquet now missing from nanami’s hands, “got ya flowers, huh? peonies too.”
nanami cleared his throat politely, hand moving to rest lightly on your back, “i thought it was appropriate.”
frankie chuckled, “what a gentleman. you take care of her, huh?”
you blushed softly, “frankie!”
the man simply chuckled as nanami offered him a smile before leading you outside, the spring evening beginning to settle over the city. the air was warm enough that the city seemed to glow beneath strings of lights and illuminated storefronts, but a chilled breeze made it so nanami’s hand was warm against your bare back.
nanami walked beside you at an easy pace, matching your stride, conscious of the difference in height as your legs were much shorter than his own.
“i hope you don’t mind walking.” he stated as you immediately shook your head.
“not at all, i love walking.”
nanami smiled gently, “the restaurant isn’t far.”
you merely hummed in acknowledgement as another comfortable silence fell upon you.
“i should confess something.” nanami broke the silence as you looked over at him curiously, “i’ve never done this before.”
your head tilted, “gone on a date?”
he smiled faintly, “asked a student on a date.”
you couldn’t help but laugh softly, “that does sound like an important distinction.”
“i thought so…” he glanced at you briefly, “i’’ve spent the entire week wondering whether it was wildly inappropriate.”
“and?”
“i’m still undecided…but willing to take the chance.” the blonde man nodded once, cheeks warm as you smiled softly.
“well, if it helps, i’m not your student.”
“that’s exactly what i told myself.”
another laugh escaped you, this time real and true, easier than the last.
it surprised both of you and nanami didn’t comment on it. he simply looked ahead again, a small smile lingering on his face. he liked hearing you laugh.
the rest of the walk was easier, blanketed in comfortable conversation and warmth.
∞
kento nanami was a dream.
he was chivalrous, pulling your chair out and opening the door for you. he was kind and attentive, grasping every word that left your mouth like you were revealing state secrets. and he was so handsome, it kind of ached to look at him.
the dinner couldn’t have gone better, filled with easy conversation, soft laughs and gentle touches that were more comfortable than expecting.
the little italian restaurant was gorgeous, candlelit and dimmed. the food was absolutely amazing and he insisted you try some of his seabass.
by the time nanami walked you back to your building, the city had long since quieted. the rush of evening had softened into something gentler, streetlights reflecting across the dark pavement while the occasional taxi rolled lazily down the road, headlights cutting through the breeze.
“i had a lovely evening.” nanami’s voice was as steady as ever, hands in his pockets as you both stood outside the doors.
you looked up at him, a small smile painting your glossy lips, “i did too.”
and you had. that was the worst part.
there hadn’t been a single awkward silence, not a moment where the conversation dulled.
nanami smiled warmly, “i’m glad. can i call you tomorrow?”
you felt your stomach twisting as you nodded, “i’d like that.”
his eyes searched yours for a moment before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss against the warmth of your cheek, “goodnight.”
you blushed gently, “goodnight, kento.”
nanami offered one last grin before stepping back and walking towards the darkness. only when his figure was swallowed by the night did you step inside.
the lobby was quiet which made sense, as it was almost midnight.
frankie looked up from behind the reception desk almost instantly, reading glasses balanced low on his nose as he looked over the evening newspaper.
“i showed you how to check your news on your phone, frank.” you grumbled as you leaned down to unclasp your heels, stepping out of them onto the cool flooring.
his face brightened, “there’s my girl!”
you smiled gently, holding the straps of your heels in hand, “hi frankie.”
“how was the date with blondie?” he questioned casually, setting the paper down, offering his full attention.
you couldn’t help but take note of his hopeful tone, like he already knew the answer he’d wanted.
you sighed gently, walking over slowly before resting your elbows against the polished marble desk the way you had since you were little enough that you could barely see over it.
“it was…” you searched for the word, “really nice.”
frankie smiled, “knew it would be.”
you nodded, “he opened the door and pulled out my chair and everything.”
frankie smiled amusedly, “oh?”
“mhmm…” you sighed sleepily, “i only mentioned the pink peonies once when we were texting and he brought them.”
frankie let out a low whistle, “impressive.”
you laughed softly, eyes shutting as the silence that followed stretched just a little too long.
frankie’s smile faded first, “you seem pretty sad for a girl who went on a really nice date.”
your eyes fluttered open, meeting his own dark ones, “i thought if it went perfect, i’d feel better.”
frankie’s brows furrowed gently, “he not the one?”
his question was heavy, lingering between you for a moment because you simply didn’t want to utter the words.
“no. he’s not my soulmate.”
frankie’s shoulders deflated as he shook his head, “figured.”
your eyes grew watery before you could stop it, “i really wanted him to be enough.”
frankie reached across the desk and laid one weathered hand over yours, thumb rubbing gently across the back of your hand.
“i spent most of the night thinking that this is what my soulmate should’ve been like.”
the words hung heavily between you and frankie’s expression shifted to something sadder, full of understanding.
“devils dick can suck a dick for all i care.” frankie huffed out and you couldn’t help but let out a watery giggle.
shoko had told frankie to refer to your soulmate as devils dick when you were seventeen and he hadn’t strayed from it since.
“he didn’t want me.” you confessed lowly, almost a whisper and frankie almost missed it if he wasn’t so focused, “i just thought it’d be different. like you and luanne.”
frankie smiled at the mention of his wife, “luanne and i hated each other when we met.”
your eyes widened, “are you serious? you told me it was love at first sight, that you’d eloped the night you met.”
frankie shrugged gently, “you were seven, i didn’t wanna crush your dreams.”
your brows furrowed, huffing as you walked behind the desk, taking a seat on the desk facing him.
“why did you hate each other? how? i mean, you’re both so obsessed with each other, it’s gross.”
frankie chuckled a deep chuckle as he leaned back in his chair, “when we first met, she worked at this diner i walked into. i remember that i swore i’d never marry her. she called me an arrogant prick.”
you snorted, “real.”
“she was so angry at me, she started throwing bread rolls at my head.”
that earned him another giggle, soft and real.
frankie smiled, “point is…life has a funny way of provin’ stubborn people wrong.”
you looked at him for a second before your smile faded, “i don’t think sukuna’s stubborn. i think he’s already decided. he seemed pretty sure when he basically told me to fuck off.”
frankie frowned, “i’ll kill him.” you looked down with a soft sigh, “either way, it’ll work out. sometimes fate asks for a lot more patient from you than she ever should.”
your shoulders slumped, “i don’t think i have any patience left.”
frankie’s heart squeezed, recalling the years he’d watched you feel your soulmate, the nights you came down already on your fourth cup of coffee because he’d kept you up. he’d seen you shut your eyes and blow out candles during every birthday, knowing all you’d wished for is for your soulmate to be good.
he’d watched little pieces of you shape themselves around someone you’d never even met. and now, he was watching those same pieces fall apart.
you glanced at him with a small sigh, “i should head to bed.”
frankie sighed gently, “alright, sweetheart. call me if ya need anythin’.”
you nodded softly, leaning over to press a kiss to the old man’s wrinkled cheek, “night, frank.”
“night, kid.”
your bare feet padded softly as you made your way to the lift.
and somewhere across the city, another man laid awake for the sixth week in a row.
and neither of them knew that the other was also grieving.
∞
an | oops finally! chapter is v reader focused but next chapter will be the reunion ahhhhhh also SMUT omg ! this is kind of a transition chapter to show the grief cuz i know yall want the reader pissed but she's just a girl and she is GRIEVING so leave her alone !!!!
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⊹ ࣪ ˖ Toji comes back from the gym tired to see his wife and son sleeping together in the living room.
જ⁀➴ m.list
you had a habit of sleeping at random times. you could be cooking and suddenly get the urge to put everything down and dive into your fresh, linen sheets.
something that would usually happen is you waiting eagerly for your husband, Toji to come back home from somewhere. you would try your hardest to stay up late, sending Toji a message.
“baby, can you leave the gym early? i can’t sleep without you.” the message would read.
a couple of minutes would pass and Toji is cracking the door open quietly because he already knows the view he is going to fathom.
you, splayed cross the sheets, snoring away the night as if you weren’t begging Toji to come back home like he neglected you and left his beautiful wife sleep deprived.
Toji sighs, taking in what he is seeing.
“Figured.” he scoffs, tongue pressing against his inner cheek.
but after you had megumi, it only got worse. you would spend your afternoons co-sleeping with megumi taking up Toji’s side of the bed.
you would get told multiple times by family and your husband to put Megumi down before he becomes addicted and deprived from your motherly pheromones and refuses to sleep in his crib.
“baby, please put the damn kid down. he isn’t letting you breathe, let alone relax.” is something you would regularly hear from Toji.
ofcourse you wouldn’t listen. who would want to put down their cute, chubby baby who was attached to them and couldn’t sleep without their mom next to them?
tonight was another case of you and megumi being attached by the hip.
you have been curled up on the couch for the past 15 minutes with Megumi melted on top of your chest. you were breastfeeding him until he fell asleep, arms spread across your chest. his cheek was squished against your chest, forming a dumpling shape. he was pouting and lightly snoring from almost drowning in breast milk.
apparently, you soon followed, arms wrapped around Megumi with one leg hoisted up on top of the coffee table. you were also lightly snoring. one of your breasts was still exposed, glistening at the bud with milk.
isn’t snoring a sign of overworking? i mean you did overwork yourself…… by setting up a sleeping spot for you and Megumi to take a nap together, leaving Toji out of the picture. but either way, you did spend a lot of time cooking.
the living room was surprisingly tranquil with hypnotic chirps coming from the kitchen window cracked open to let out the smell of ripe passion fruit from the kitchen after you spent 3 hours baking passion fruit cheesecake.
but either way, you still ended up snoring on the couch after the day ended, as usual.
the front door clicked shut with a groan escaping Toji’s lips. his feet shuffling can be heard from the living room where you and your son were snoring in sync, his palm fisting your shirt from comfort.
Toji reaches the kitchen and drops his duffle bag on the floor near the island counter. he had an exhaustion only his wife could get rid of — an exhaustion he would always run to you to relieve.
“what a fucking day….” toji exhaled, later sucking in all the tension with his breath.
he rubbed his hands over his face, like he could wipe away the exhaustion off with it, but it only came back heavier when he dropped his hands.
he leans over the counter, back hunched with his forearms layed flat, crossed against the cold, marbled counter. his head drops onto the counter while a whine escapes his lips.
all he really wanted was to see his wife, touch his wife — or fuck, even know she was alive, yet he was too tired to move. his back muscles were sore from working out while his forearms felt heaviness from his body weight shifting to them while hunching over the counter.
after a few minutes of fighting against his will to just sleep standing with his strong musk lingering on his skin after the gym, he makes his way to your shared bedroom. the door creeks open to an empty bed with Megumi’s pacifier layed in between the crumpled sheets.
toji calls out softy, as if he diddnt have the energy for anything louder.
“sweetheart…?”
he leans against the door, clutching his tricep with his head leaning against the wooden plates framing the door.
‘where’s my baby?’ he questions himself, confused as to why his wife wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
he sighs and pushes himself off to look for you around the house. his feet pace around the hallways of your guys’ breezy house, searching for any signs of his loving wife.
he reaches the living room and sees you asleep harmoniously. your hair was ruffled against the couch, each strand spread across the headrest. your chest was heaving slowly, moving Megumi’s head back and forth against your chest. your sons hand was fisting at your shirt, jumbling the soft fabric against his fist. your breast was still uncovered, resting near Megumi’s head.
the dim light was radiating on your skin, giving yourself a sunset glow. your breathing was synched to your son, making the melody tranquil.
Toji’s expression softened, eyebrows lifting naturally from his eyes. it’s not surprising to see his wife sleeping with his backstabbing son who was taking his wife away from him, though that was not was he was thinking at the moment.
all he could think about was how tired his wife could of been from taking care of his son to be able to sleep in the middle of breastfeeding.
he makes his way to where you were sleeping, standing above you. he takes in the sight of everything and leans forward, muscled hands bracketing your head. he leaves a lingering peck on your forehead, sighing away his burnout.
“by babies are always tired..” he breathed.
he picks up megumi and coddles him while walking heavily, back muscles sore from work. he steps into megumi’s nursery, kicking the door open with his toes. he places him in his crib, covering him with a blanket and pecking his chubby cheek. megumi makes a few noises of sighing and whining before drifting away to sleep.
Toji quietly closes the nursery door, pushing the door handle down and pulling the door so it doesn’t make a ‘click’ sound, possibly waking him up.
he comes back to you, sliding his hands under you, one hand under your ribs while the other is under your knees. he lifts you up effortlessly, leaving a warmth of your body lingering on the couch. he carries you with tenderness like you’re made out of cooled down molten glass.
the whole trip to the bedroom, you stayed asleep, eyelashes fluttering. your fist gripped his shirt for balance, feeling the warmth of his body heat bleeding into your palm.
he placed you down gently, wary of waking you up from your peaceful snooze. he pulls your shirt, finally covering your exposed breast from the cold breeze. the sheets were cool, contrasting your body. he leaves a warm kiss on your jaw, carefully stepping back. you curl into the sheets, looking for something warm.
something similar to your husbands touch.
Toji rips off his shirt, pulling it over his head from the hem. his sweatpants soon follow, accompanying his discarded shirt. he is left in black, Calvin Klein Boxers with his print visible. he walks around to the other side of the bed, sighing and slipping into bed with you. his forearm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. he curls into you, forming a ‘c’ shape.
you slowly start to wake up, yet still in dreamland, only his warmth on your back being sensed. he groans into your neck, leaving kisses throughout your neck and nape. his hand tightens, not being able to hold back his need for you after a rough day. his calloused hand kneads into your stomach.
you turn around, now facing him.
“hey baby, i missed you.” he coos.
you softly smile, eyes still heavy. you wrap your arms around his neck, moving lower than you already were — as if you could get any closer. he giggles, nose touching yours.
he leads you into a passionate kiss, gripping your hip and jerking it forward. his kiss feels refreshing, like it was exactly what you were looking for. you lean in, caressing his cheek. you let go, head leaning backwards to fully see his face. he looks as if he is love drunk from a simple, casual kiss.
“i missed you too sweetheart, i was waiting for you.” you palm his face while whispering.
a sudden jolt of noise makes you flinch, eyes widening.
Megumi’s crib makes a creek sound, frightening you.
“where my baby… Toji?” you ask confused.
“for fucks sake, i put him in his crib. he was asleep, leaving you restless. the fuck does he want now?” he puffs out.
you turn to look at the baby monitor, witnessing Megumi standing on his feet, gripping the crib bars. his face was visibly wincing and showing fear. he was crying and looking around the room as if he was searching for his mom.
“my baby’s awake Toji.” you throw his hand off from across your waist.
you push the blanket off of you, placing your bare feet onto the cold tiles of the bedroom, quickly getting up to comfort him. Toji scoffs, throwing his forearm across his forehead.
“the fucking brat. always putting me out of my misery.” he groans.
“and i was her baby first.... fucking prick.”
a/n: computah! don’t post for a month and come back w a basic oneshot. oh yeah, and also don’t do any of your college courses summer work! that’ll do it!
“come on babe it’s gonna look so cool!” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy eyes in another attempt to convince him.
you’d been scrolling through pinterest, following your nightly routine, when you came across a really cute couple pic where the guy had lipstick marks all over his bicep, maybe an overly used idea but you still found it pretty cute. and well, safe to say the idea had been stuck in your head for a week before you finally decided to play dirty and convince him to recreate the exact same picture for your perfected instagram feed.
and in your book, playing dirty meant mean puppy eyes and pouty lips with glossy tears sitting tightly on the edge of your lashes, threatening to spill over them.
a sight you knew he was hopelessly weak for.
you grinned to yourself. he was as grumpy as ever, letting out a long groan before throwing an arm over his eyes in a poor attempt to ignore you. huge mistake.
you were sitting on top of him while he lay sprawled across couch with his legs hanging over the armrest. fond as he was of summer, he wasn’t exactly immune to the dry heat that came with it and now he was dealing with a persistent headache for days, causing him to lay in the same spot for hours until the sun went down. currently, he was in his fourth hour of the day.
“babee,” you whined with the exact pout you knew he could never resist.
he groaned again, one hand instinctively settling around your waist to steady you. “y’know you’re a fucking menace.”
you grinned. “does that mean yes?”
a tight silence stretched across his features. he sighed as his voice crawled up to a tone so defeated.
“do whatever you want.”
you let out an excited squeal, a scream of victory, before immediately reaching for the red lipstick.
ever since you’d started dating, you’d realized no matter how stubborn or intimidating he could be, never before had it seem as he had the determination to say a simple ‘no’ to you. at first he’d been genuinely confused by it, convinced there had to be some scientific explanation for why he was physically incapable of rejecting you. well, the explanation he came up with was that he was just a guy so in love. a guy weak and devoted in love.
he seemed to accept this half scientific explanation he had for himself wholeheartedly. he was a weak man.
and well, you never opposed to his logic.
you actually loved this side of him, where he was all sharp edges to everyone else with his permanent scowl sitting roughly on his face, for you he was simply a man in love who couldn’t even say a simple no because he adored you far too much.
you smiled as you finished applying the lipstick, settling yourself more comfortably on his stomach for a better angle.
leaning down, you pressed the first kiss against his bicep. perfect. you couldn’t help giggling when you noticed him subtly flexing, despite acting like he was being held hostage.
your lips lingered just long enough to leave a perfect imprint against his skin. and you felt his shuddering breath near your ears, caressing your neck. his hand tightened against your waist. he, again, exhaled softly. the soft breath brushed the side of your face and he caressed your skin with his rough hands.
“thought you were against to this,” you teased with a knowing grin. “it seems like you’re enjoying yourself.”
he gave your waist a light smack. “focus on your job.” you laughed, swiping on the lipstick over your lips once more.
by the time you were finished, his entire bicep was covered in neatly arranged and gorgeous looking kiss marks.
“i told you this would look good.” you said proudly. “kuna let me grab my phone real quick! i need to post this! where do you think the lightning would—“ your words turned into distracted humming as you wandered off toward the bedroom.
when you came back, your steps stopped in the doorway. you rolled your eyes. “this man…”
you gotta be kidding me.
you caught him in front of the mirror, his back slightly turned, flexing his biceps and his eyes trailing the kiss marks with a pleasant glint, admiring the view in the mirror.
“oh my god, kuna you narcissistic animal,”
he ignored you completely.
you winced seeing his smirk. he changed his pose, flexed his arm again and nodded with a certain approval.
campus heartthrob and resident fuckboy GOJO SATORU shocks everyone by going exclusive with you
gojo satoru settling down was as unlikely as catching the hour hand of a clock moving.
notorious for being a lady's man , he had it all going for him. he was all bedroom eyes and cheesy smiles that can make anyone's knees go weak. he was full of loud laughter and nonchalant swagger.
like he didn't give a damn.
cigars for breakfast, skipping lunch to attend classes if he felt so, hard liquor with his frat boys and a different woman in his bed at night—for dinner of course.
he had the face, he had the body, he had the charisma. none could blame the poor souls who wanted a taste, even for just one night.
and satoru. oh. satoru was just a guy. who was he to turn away the beautiful ladies? he didn't chase after them, it was just his luck that they came to him first.
then he caught his first glimpse of you. at his party, looking so out of place that made his eyes zero in on you. not even a cup in your hands. looking so good that it made him want to do something bad.
so he slid up to your side with his usual confidence. started a conversation he could hardly care about. and ultimately, was shocked into silence when you hit him with a "sorry, that pea in your bed is going to bruise my back".
rejected him.
rejected him.
and thus began satoru's chase. the chase for your heart.
the local campus gossip forum ruminated , 'the heartthrob, gojo, has been caught getting rejected by unknown woman. the university has since, seen a rise in the number of women left unsatisfied as gojo's bedroom door has been closed for shocking reason. is a reform on the way? is exclusivity on the horizon? '
heads turned as the usually absent satoru was seen attending classes almost to the point of regularity.
gasps rang out when someone leaked a picture of him handing you flowers. red. roses.
so awfully cliche that you couldn't even blame your past self for the disgust on your face in the aforementioned leaked picture.
women raged when a video of him begging you while chasing after you on the sidewalk surfaced in the stories of satoru's frat bro's.
the man who was known for being as careless with his words as people are with their phones after a year, was suddenly mindful of his vocabulary.
when before, smirks and winks were handed out to the girls so easily—now they were reserved just for you it seemed.
and the crazy part of it all? you made him run. you made him grovel. you made him fix his failing grades. made him fix his fillipiant attitude.
and made him take 2 hiv tests.
made him give a damn.
but you couldn't change his cliché-ness. he was a sappy romantic. he snuck candy in your stationery, climbed up your window ledge and left flowers in your hair when you weren't paying attention to him.
he even started gifting you books which you had talked about in that first meeting. at the frat party. and that was when you caved in. not enough to let him in your bed. but enough to go out with him.
the frat boys tripped over themselves when they caught satoru in a white formal shirt and black slacks. a red rose in his pocket. the picture of a lover boy. the change was not sudden, he had been chasing after you for months . but it was shocking nonetheless.
and satoru. oh. satoru was in love. the goodness tasted way better on his tongue than cigar smoke. your perfume on his clothes smelled better than nightly sex.
and your hand in his made his heart race faster than any orgasm he had ever had.
he never imagined himself to be tamed by a woman. yet here he was. and he had no regrets.
not when people all around him gaped at your fingers scratching the hair at his nape.
not when his boys hollered at the tattoo of your name over his heart.
and certainly not when you finally let him in your bed.
he still had a long way to go though. to prove that he was there to stay. to prove that he was exclusive to you.
so as he lay stroking your back as you slept on his chest, he planned the perfect little outing to take you on the next day. (and ways to woo you so that you would invite him to your bed again)
brat! reader demanding boyfriend 𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 to hold her hand while he carries all the bags
your hands feel weird. empty, you note suddenly.
then you look at your boyfriend walking just 2 steps ahead of you. both of his hands full of shopping bags and grocery packets.
it must be heavy. it is heavy. that's why sukuna is carrying them and not you. you give a sigh of appreciation as your eyes roam over his frame.
tall , dressed in dark shades, muscles pulled taut. quite the head turner. and more than capable of carrying a few bags, you mentally note.
your friends often complained about their partners expecting to split the baggage. half n half and shit that felt so absurd to you that you had obnoxiously bragged about your husband demanding that you 'do not lift a single finger'.
the girls had the audacity to look skeptical.
you pull up the camera app on your phone and click record.
"baby?" you call out, pretending to scroll. the camera records your man as he half turns his head.
"why aren't you holding my hand?" you demand like a spoiled brat. you catch the faint upward tug of his lips as he turns his head to face forward again.
then he releases his pinky from under his grip on the bags and slightly points it. you let out a happy sound and grab onto it. making a point of zooming in your camera on the view.
then you reverse the camera and film your face.
sukuna often tells you to wipe that smug look off your face. but how can you when you bagged such a hot deal?
so you give your brattiest grin and lean your head against his bicep. the camera doesn't capture his face, he is too tall for that.
sukuna doesn't comment, even as he watches the display. what can he say? he quite likes being shown off by his princess.
his cock throbbed inside of you, pulsing against your gummy walls while your legs were slung over his shoulders. satoru snapped his hips over and over again, basking in the sloppy sounds of your sexes connecting. you could barely talk, letting out deep breaths and soft moans. every thrust made you feel more and more stretched, your sensitive body was about to become overstimulated, coming off of multiple orgasms, you couldn’t keep up with satoru, yet you didn’t want to stop. not when he fucked you like he had something to prove to himself.
he leaned forward, pressed forward, kissing the crook of your neck, making sure to drag his teeth over your sensitive skin, leaving wet kisses everywhere—and the more the administered those pecks, the more you gushed.
“shit baby,” he muttered, “you feel so good—with me all deep in you like this.”
you would have never thought that the president of a frat could sound so meek—his body flinching every time your cunt twitched. his teeth dug into his bottom lip ever-so-slightly, making his voice sound broken. his cheeks were a flushed pink, and his hair was practically matted down to his forehead.
satoru couldn’t help but let out a string of moans, breathy and desperate. his eyes squeezed shut as you sucked him in further, making his strokes become messier and languid. the bed creaked with every motion and as he melted into your touch he began to lose himself even more.
you had been hooking up for some time, sure, but every single moment you caught him in this position he always turned into putty.
“oh fuck baby yes,” he whined, words starting to slur together. you felt how his tip kissed your cervix, nudging it with every jut of his hips. “i love you baby, fuuuck, i love it—love it so much.”
his tongue started to lol from his mouth, his thrusts becoming unpaced and feral. you could hardly keep up with him, as he quickly became lost in the way you were clamping down on him, your pussy drooling for his cock.
“say you love it baby—say you love me,” he sighed, eyes opening for a split moment to catch a glimpse of your fucked-out face. he smirked seeing you like that, breaking him out of his pussy-drunk daze, but as soon as he remembered how cushiony your insides felt and fell right back into his whiny state. he continued, voice cracking: “say it, please, please, please—fuck.”
“i love it, toru,” you sniffled, “love your fat fucking cock—love how it fucks me so good.”
your praise sent shivers up his spine, but it wasn’t enough as he let out a strangled whimper. “yeah? shit,”
“yeah, baby, i love you,” you continued, egging on his sporadic thrusts. his abs tied, head tilting back, pushing his thick dick into you as deep as he could, not wanting to leave the warm embrace of your cunt.
a loud groan escaped his wet lips, his body finally giving him, cum filling you up until he was practically dry. his dick throbbed inside you, and a large gap fled from both you and satoru.
“yeah i love you baby—love you so fuckin’ much,” he whispered, as if when morning came you wouldn’t be parting ways until fate would have you meet up at the next frat party.
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toji fushiguro has your body naked in front of the mirror and his warm hands groping your hips. he lets his pinky slide up your puffy, wet slit—just a graze, just over your clit—and he doesn’t let your eyes leave the mirror as he draws back his pinky dripping with your slick.
“go on, princess,” he rasps into your neck. “m’listening.”
but he’s not just listening. your boyfriend is still in his boxers—unfair, really, because you’re clad in nothing & the room is too warm & your thighs are trembling from both the heat and the pressure. he wraps himself around you and slides his hands up to your tits. he gropes your breast once and lets his hands fall away.
your mouth dries. “i can’t.”
but your hips are bucking into him. rolling against his clothed cockhead as your pussy drools from the anticipation. toji laughs, chest warm against your back as he pinches your clit, forcing your hips to stutter & a whine to leave your lips. “y’got a pretty mouth, dollface. wanna hear you use it.”
in the mirror your thighs are still aching, chest heaving, and toji fushiguro has slipped his cock out of his shorts. you’re not sure you heard his waistband snap but his cock is there, flushed and swollen and dripping with precum.
"you see that ?" he murmurs, breath hot against your neck as he pumps himself in his fist all heavy & slow. "see what you do to me, sweetheart? standing there all pretty and wet?”
he lets the soaked head tap against your ass—once, twice—before dragging it lower between your thighs, letting it slip through your slick folds without pushing inside. your pussy flutters at the teasing, & toji watches your chest heave in the mirror through bleary eyes.
"you want this?" he murmurs, cockhead nudging your throbbing folds from behind. "want my cock in this pussy, baby?” he lets his precum smear over the folds. “start talking.”
you swallow, eyes glazed with lust and hips stuttering as you force the courage to speak. “i…i have nice tits.”
“breasts,” toji growls into your neck. “breasts, dollface. say it properly.”
your thighs squeeze. your eyes are teary when you look in the mirror, face flushed, tits heaving. "i have nice breasts."
"mmh," toji slides a palm up your side. he lets his thumb brush against your aching nipple, before twisting and stretching the pebbled peak between his fingers. you arch into him on instinct. "so nice, dollface. and what else? look at this pussy in the mirror, baby. tell me all about it."
his thumb presses into your clit. but then he slides it away.
you moan, loud, slick dripping down your thighs. toji’s cock twitches against your ass, but clearly he’s got the self control of a god.
your lashes are tear rimmed. “i have—i have a pretty pussy!”
“so pretty,” he murmurs, tugging your clit before pressing his thumb against it, rubbing slow circles over the bud. “prettiest pussy i’ve ever fucking seen. so wet and noisy for me. tell me more, sweetheart.”
“my pussy is so tight,” you rasp, breathless and hips twitching as toji rubs his thumb against the sensitive bud. “hnngh—so tight and wet for you, toji.”
"yeah?" he murmurs against your ear. his cock nudges your slick folds, pulsing and throbbing at the entrance. "love this fucking pussy, you know that?"
you can only whimper in response.
"love how puffy it is," he continues, dragging his swollen cockhead up your slit, only to drag it down again. "love how it tries to swallow me. see that, baby? see how it slobbers all over my cock?” he pushes his swollen head in as your cunt flutters around him. “fucking perfect.”
“toji—“ you gasp, “please—“
“please what?” he growls, pushing his hips into you. his thick cock swells between your folds, pulsing and stretching your puffy cunt. “want me to play with this pussy, baby? fuck you so hard your tits bounce in the mirror?”
“mhm—“
“words, sweetheart.”
“want you to fuck me,” you gasp out, hips bucking back to chase his cockhead and push him deeper into your folds. “want you to play with my pussy and fuck me till i’m dripping—“
“fuck,” toji groans, slamming into you, hard. “thaaaat’s my fucking girl. see how easy it is to please me?”
Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend
“Whiskey,” Sukuna said, dropping into his usual stool, the seat with the best view of you while you worked. “The expensive one please.”
“You don’t tip enough for the expensive one,” you teased.
A low laugh rumbled from him. “There she is.”
The bar was quieter tonight; rain against the windows, old rock humming from the speakers, neon signs buzzing dimly overhead. The kind of night that dragged exhaustion into your bones.
Sukuna watched you the whole time. He wasn’t subtle about it either.
“You look annoyed sweetheart,” he said.
“I’m working, so duh.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
You slid the drink toward him. “Maybe drink instead of psychoanalyzing me.”
He took a sip without breaking eye contact.
“Boyfriend piss you off again?”
Your jaw tightened for half a second and that smug bastard noticed.
“Mm.” He leaned back on the stool. “So that’s a yes.”
“He forgot to pick me up after my shift yesterday.” You regretted saying it immediately.
Sukuna snorted. “Again?”
“He was busy,” you broke eye contact knowing Sukuna can read you like a book.
“Let me guess; he was drunk or out partyin.”
Silence.
Because he was.
You started wiping down an already clean section of the counter just to avoid answering the question.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly, tattoos shifting against his sharp cheekbones as he studied you.
“You make excuses for him a lot.”
“Yeah… sometimes that’s what it’s like being in a relationship, also you don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.” Another sip. “Saw him in here last week hanging off some blonde in a red dress.”
Your stomach twisted. “He wasn’t—”
“He was.”
You hated that he noticed everything. Hated that some reckless little part of you liked being noticed by him, that it felt like he cared.
“You know,” he continued casually, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “if I had my girl waiting for me after her long shitty shift, I wouldn’t forget her…definitely not if it was you.”
Your hands paused. “Sukuna—”
“No, really.” He leaned forward now, elbows resting on the counter. “I’m trying to figure out what exactly this idiot offers that’s worth all this disappointment.”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
Heat crawled up your neck. He grinned slowly when he noticed.
God, that grin was dangerous.
“You work double shifts,” he continued. “You remember his birthday, your anniversary, probably his coffee order too.” His eyes dragged over you lazily. “Meanwhile he can’t stay sober long enough to pick you up on time.”
“You’re drunk right now.”
“I barely finished my first drink…but even drunk I could never forget such a pretty face.”
That shouldn’t have affected you.
But then he reached across the counter — slow enough for you to pull away if you wanted — and placed his hand over yours.
The touch felt unfairly warm.
“I’m serious,” Sukuna murmured. “You keep wasting yourself on men who don’t know what to do with you.”
Your breath caught. His thumb brushed against your pulse.
“I would.”
Your breath hitched, and you pulled your hand away slightly; shocked by Sukuna’s confession.
“Think about it sweetheart,” he said tapping your hand lightly before pulling away to pay for his drink.
The screen of your phone lit up with a picture of Sukuna looking entirely unamused, his contact name accompanied by a string of heart emojis that you had forced him to set up himself.
You swiped to answer, balancing your water bottle and yoga mat under one arm as you stepped out of the pilates studio and into the sweltering afternoon heat.
“Tell me you’re outside,” you breathed into the receiver, scanning the line of parked cars. “Because my legs are literally shaking and if I have to walk more than ten feet, I’m going to collapse on the pavement.”
A heavy sigh crackled through the speaker. “I’m sorry babe, not outside.”
You stopped in your tracks. “What do you mean you’re not outside? Babe, you promised.”
“I know, but the meeting ran over,” he grumbled, the sound of a pen clicking rapidly in the background giving away his irritation. “I can’t leave for another forty minutes. Order a Lyft.”
“A Lyft? Are you kidding me? Do you know what the surge pricing is right now?”
“When has that became a problem for you and more importantly, for ME?” he shot back, his voice dropping an octave. “Just book the car, baby. I’m sending you the money right now.”
“No, don’t!” you argued, shifting your mat to your other hip. “I still have like, half of the allowance you gave me on Monday. I can just use that.”
“No. Check your phone.”
Your phone buzzed against your cheek. You pulled it away to look at the notification. Sukuna sent you $100.
“A Lyft home is twenty bucks.”
“Yes I know. I sent you extra to get the Black SUV option, just add the change to your allowance or whatever. I gotta go, they’re calling me back in. See you at home.”
The line went dead before you could even get another word in. You stared at the screen, then at the $100 sitting pretty in your account. You looked up. Directly across the street was that insanely overpriced artisanal bakery you loved.
Then, you looked down the block. The entrance to the subway station was right there. The train ride home was exactly $2.75.
An idea immediately took over your brain. If you took the train, you would have $97.25 left. That was practically free money. It would be a crime not to spend it on a little treat.
An hour and a half later, you pushed the front door of your shared apartment open, using your hip to bump it shut because both of your hands were completely occupied.
Sukuna was already home, sitting on the edge of the kitchen island. He had stripped off his suit jacket, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone, exposing the dark ink on his chest. He looked exhausted, holding a car of beer in one hand, but his eyes immediately snapped to you as you waddled in.
His gaze dropped from your face to the three massive bakery bags in your arms, to the iced matcha latte balanced precariously in your grip, along with your mat & bottle. A surprise he always think about since your hands are too small yet you seem to carry everything at oncr.
“Hey,” you chirped, kicking off your sneakers.
Sukuna blinked. He set his can down on the marble counter. “What the hell is all that?”
“Snacks,” you said simply, dropping the bags onto the island next to him. “I got the pistachio croissants you pretend to hate but actually love, two slices of the truffle flatbread, a whole box of macarons, and some weird strawberry tart thing that looked pretty.”
He stared at the feast, then looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing. “You bought all this with the coffee money?”
“Well, no.” You took a sip of your matcha, avoiding his gaze. “I used the Lyft money.”
Silence stretched across the kitchen. Sukuna tilted his head, his expression dangerously blank. “You used the Lyft money.”
“Yeah.”
“The money I gave you to get a safe, air-conditioned ride home.”
“Mhm.”
“So how did you get home?”
You smiled innocently. “I took the train.”
Sukuna closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a long, deep breath. “You took the train.”
“It’s only four stops!” you defended, crossing your arms. “And the bakery was right there! Do you know how fast those croissants sell out?" He scoffed as you defended your point. “Plus, the train is good for the environment. I’m reducing my carbon footprint.”
“Baby, you don’t even know what a carbon footprint is,” he deadpanned, opening his eyes to glare at you. “I sent you a hundred dollars so you wouldn’t have to haul your ass onto a crowded subway car after a workout.”
“If I took the Lyft, I wouldn’t have had enough for the macarons. And you love the macarons.”
“..... So you're saying you did this for me,” he snapped, though his eyes briefly flicked down to the box. “Yeah! I thought about you when I was in line.” You saw him bite the inside of his cheek, supressing a grin that's almost coming out. “You're gonna be the death of me.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic? You’re stubborn as hell!” He reached out, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against his legs. He smelled like expensive cologne and beer. “You have the worst spending habits of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Do not scurtinize me, and fyi; it’s called girl math,” you said smugly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, I saved you money. Technically, I made a profit.”
Sukuna let out a harsh laugh, his hands squeezing your hips. “That is the dumbest logic I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“For you, but not for me,” you batted your eyelashes, holding up the half-eaten croissant. “Bite?”
He looked at the pastry with disdain, then leaned down and took a bite anyway. He chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Fuck,” he grumbled, swallowing. “That’s actually really good.”
“See? My investments always pay off,” you grinned, “High ROI.”
“Don’t use corporate terms, you don’t know what they mean,” he sighed, wrapping his large hands around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “If you ever pull this ‘girl math’ bullshit with our actual bank accounts, I’m having you legally committed.”
“I would never,” you gasped in mock offense. “I only use girl math for the important things. Like treats. And shoes. Speaking of which, since I saved you forty dollars on that Lyft today…”
Sukuna groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “I am not buying you another pair of shoes because you took the fucking train.”
You laughed, thoroughly satisfied. Oh well, free pastries for you, I guess.
an: saw this shit in my drafts. this was true to life btw, my bf will send me money to book an uber after school when we were in college but i'll use it for food so I have something to eat while commuting hahshsjaj. dividers by: @dollywons 🌼 idk who the artist for the visuals above but i got it here + here @pixelins
also! i'm tryign different layouts, do you like it?! or just the simple text is enough? 😇
There is a very specific, highly entertaining phenomenon that occurs whenever you take your husband out in public. You like to call it the “Terror and Thirst” effect.
Today, at the crowded public beach, it is in full swing.
You are currently lounging under the massive shade of a navy blue beach umbrella, a trashy romance novel resting on your lap, watching the spectacle unfold at the shoreline.
Ryomen Sukuna is, objectively, a masterpiece of a man. Standing at a towering 6’4”, he is built like a heavyweight champion—broad shoulders, a thick chest, and a torso carved out of solid granite. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, black board shorts that sit dangerously low on his hips, putting the intricate, sprawling black tattoos that cover his chest, arms, and stomach on full, glorious display.
He is hot as fuck. It’s a fact that is currently not lost on the group of college girls sitting on a blanket about twenty yards away. They haven’t stopped staring, whispering behind their hands, and aggressively adjusting their bikini tops for the last half hour.
But here is the catch: Sukuna is also terrifying.
He has this natural, resting aura of absolute disdain for anyone who isn’t you or your son. He’s a snob, plain and simple. He doesn’t smile at strangers, he doesn’t make polite small talk, and if someone stares at him for too long, he gives them a dead-eyed, chilling glare that practically drops the surrounding temperature by ten degrees.
Case in point: one of the girls giggles a little too loudly, pointing in his direction. Sukuna, who is currently standing ankle-deep in the surf, slowly turns his head. He doesn’t say a word. He just narrows his crimson eyes, his face completely blank, and stares her down.
The girl visibly pales, her hand dropping instantly. She quickly turns around, suddenly very interested in the contents of her cooler.
Sukuna lets out a quiet, dismissive scoff, turning his attention back to the water.
“You’re going to give those poor girls a complex, babe,” you call out, unable to hide your amusement.
Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, and the transformation is instantaneous. The cold, intimidating mask melts away, replaced by an expression so incredibly soft and devoted it makes your chest ache. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a small, fond smile.
“Not my problem that they are annoying,” he says, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the crashing waves. “Besides, I only want one woman looking at me.”
You roll your eyes, though your cheeks heat up. “Smooth, Ryomen. Very smooth.”
“Dada! Splash!”
A tiny, high-pitched voice interrupts the moment. Yuji, currently sporting a pair of tiny black swim trunks that perfectly match his dad’s, is waddling furiously through the shallow water. He’s got a pair of bright orange floaties strapped to his chubby arms, his pink hair plastered to his forehead from the ocean spray.
Sukuna’s attention snaps to his son. He doesn’t say anything, just calmly wades deeper into the water, his massive hands reaching down to scoop the toddler up under the armpits.
“You want to splash, little man?” Sukuna asks quietly, his tone a low, soothing rumble.
“Yeah! Big splash!” Yuji cheers, kicking his little legs.
You watch, completely mesmerized, as your terrifying, snobbish husband hoists your two-year-old high into the air. Sukuna tosses him up—just high enough to make Yuji squeal with delight—and catches him effortlessly, dipping him down so his little toes drag through the water.
It’s a beautiful, chaotic contrast. The giant, tattooed wall of muscle, gently playing in the waves with a giggling, chubby-cheeked toddler.
They play in the water for another twenty minutes. Sukuna is quiet, mostly just listening to Yuji babble about the “big fishes” and the “salty water,” occasionally offering a calm nod or a soft chuckle. He is completely in his element, entirely unbothered by the rest of the world.
Eventually, Sukuna wades out of the water, carrying Yuji on his hip. Water is dripping from Sukuna’s pink hair, running down the hard planes of his chest and tracing the lines of his tattoos. It is a sight that should be illegal.
He walks over to the umbrella, grabbing a towel with his free hand and tossing it over his shoulder. He sets Yuji down on the sand.
“Go to mama, buddy. Let her dry you off,” Sukuna murmurs, running a hand through his wet hair.
But Yuji has other plans.
He shakes himself off like a wet puppy, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. He takes two steps toward you, stops, and then his head snaps to the left.
You follow his gaze. A new group of girls—three of them, looking like they just stepped out of a swimsuit catalog—have set up their chairs near the shoreline.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter, dropping your book. “Not again.”
Yuji’s eyes go wide. He completely ignores you, turning on his heel and marching straight toward the girls. His little chest is puffed out, his arms swinging with an unearned amount of swagger for a kid who still wears pull-ups at night.
“Sukuna,” you warn, pointing at your son. “Stop him.”
Sukuna doesn’t move. He just stands there, drying his chest with the towel, watching Yuji with a quiet, amused smirk. “Why? He’s on a mission.”
“He is two! He is literally a baby!” you hiss, standing up. “Why does he act like a frat boy on spring break?”
“Son't ask me,” Sukuna replies, clearly avoiding your eyes, he took a sip from the bottle of water. He doesn't say it, but you can hear the lingering amusement in his voicd. “Let the boy have fun, babe.”
You groan, watching helplessly as Yuji reaches the girls.
He stops right in front of their beach chairs. He puts his chubby little hands on his hips, tilts his head, and unleashes the weapon: your bright, disarming smile.
“Hi!” Yuji chirps loudly. “I Yuji!”
The girls immediately stop talking. They look down at the tiny, pink-haired toddler, and the collective swoon is almost audible.
“Oh my god, hi!” one of them coos, leaning forward. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing ever?”
“Pweety,” Yuji says, pointing a tiny finger at the girl’s sparkly bikini top. He then flexes his little arm, showing off a completely non-existent bicep. “Look! Strong like dada!”
“I can’t believe this,” you whisper, burying your face in your hands. Sukuna lets out a low, quiet chuckle next to you.
“You are a terrible influence,” you glare at him.
“Babe, I didn’t do anything,” Sukuna says, his voice completely deadpan, though his eyes are dancing with mirth. “I’m just standing here.”
Down by the water, the girls are eating it up. They are giggling, offering Yuji a plastic beach toy, which he graciously accepts. But then, one of the girls looks up. Her eyes scan the beach, looking for the parents, and she spots Sukuna.
You can practically see the cartoon hearts pop out of her eyes.
She stands up, brushing sand off her legs, and walks over to Yuji, taking his little hand. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go find your dad.”
She leads Yuji back toward your umbrella, her eyes locked entirely on Sukuna. She has that look—the look of a woman who thinks she’s about to shoot her shot with a single dad.
“Excuse me,” the girl says, her voice dropping into a sultry purr as she approaches. She completely ignores you, standing right in front of Sukuna. “Is this little guy yours? He wandered over to us.”
Sukuna stops drying his hair. His smilr vanishes, instantly replaced by that cold snobbery. He looks down at the girl, his expression completely blank, his eyes devoid of any warmth.
He doesn’t say a word to her.
Instead, he steps forward, completely invading her personal space with his massive frame, forcing her to take a nervous step back. He reaches down and scoops Yuji up into his arms.
“Dada! Pweety girl!” Yuji babbles, pointing at the woman.
Sukuna looks at the girl for one more second. It’s a look that clearly says, You are entirely beneath my notice.
“Thanks,” Sukuna says. His voice is quiet, but it carries a heavy, chilling finality that makes the girl flinch. “Come here buddy lets go to mama”
He turns his back on her without another word, walking the two steps over to you. The girl stands there for a second, her face flushed bright red with embarrassment, before she quickly turns and scurries back to her friends.
You are trying very hard not to laugh. “You didn’t have to be so mean to her.”
“I wasn’t,” Sukuna scoffs, setting Yuji down on your beach chair. “I just didn’t care to speak to her.”
“She was totally hitting on you.”
Sukuna finally looks at you, and the ice in his eyes melts completely. He steps into your space, his large hands coming up to cup your face. His thumbs gently stroke your cheekbones.
“Whatever,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate register. “I'm married”
Your breath hitches, your heart doing a familiar, stupid little flip in your chest. Even after all these years, he still knows exactly how to render you speechless.
“You’re such a sap,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.
“Only for my wife,” he replies, leaning down to press a slow, deep kiss to your lips. It’s a possessive kiss, one that clearly communicates to anyone watching exactly who he belongs to.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Mama!”
You both look down. Yuji is standing on the beach chair, holding up a slightly crushed, sandy seashell. He shoves it toward you, his big golden eyes shining.
You melt. You absolutely melt. You take the sandy shell, pulling Yuji into a tight hug and kissing his salty, sun-warmed cheek. “Thank you, baby. It’s beautiful.”
Sukuna watches the two of you, his hands resting casually on his hips. “See?” Sukuna says quietly, reaching out to ruffle Yuji’s pink hair. “The kid might have my charm, but he knows the truth.”
At the end of the day, despite the playboy genes and the endless chaos, they were yours. And you were theirs.
And mom was, undeniably, still the best.
an: we're close to 1k what the hekk!!! what one shots do you wanna see next? i can't write smut for the life of me, english is saurrrr hard!! divider by: @pxrce-lain | the art and gif i got from pinterest! feel free to comment who is the orig art creator pls 🙏
satoru gojo with a baby who looks exactly like you.
his genes didn't even try. not a speck of white in his baby girl's hair, not a sliver of crystal blue in her eyes. she's all you—from the eyes to the nose to the laugh. good lord, satoru has been blessed by the gods.
he fell in love with her the moment the doctor handed you the little bundle of joy. and when he first carried her? you just laugh at the way he almost melts to the floor.
everytime he gets home from missions, he goes straight to where you're playing with mini you. his daughter giggles upon seeing her dad. he crashes on top of the two of you, careful not to squish neither of you. first and foremost, he kisses you. then, the baby. then back to you, then back to her—it goes on and on until you go and tell him to shower.
at night when your daughter makes a fuss, it's satoru who gets up and soothes her. he carries her over to your shared room, lays her in the space between, and talks to her about anything—his latest mission, his students, her big brother megumi, how the two of you met, his bestfriend suguru, her uncle nanami, her aunt shoko.
all the while, his baby listens earnestly, eyes wide and curious like yours. she even responds sometimes! no, she can't talk yet, but she's already a good listener.
"maybe we should take you to see uncle suguru. do you miss him? who do you miss more, him or papa?"
"ah."
"there's only one answer to that. why are you hesitating?" he pokes her cheek, and holds back the urge to bite and chomp.
"ba.."
"papa? yes! that's right. you miss papa more, right?"
"ma!"
satoru gasps dramatically, "mama? you're already with her 24/7!" your baby grins, and he's in awe by how much of you he sees in her.
he picks her up with ease, and settles her on top of him. he glances at your sleeping form, "you look like your mom, you know?"
your baby also glances at you, one hand reaching out before satoru grabs her little wrist and holds it to his chest. "mama's sleeping. she's tired, we need to let her rest."
your daughter babbles, "ma-ma-ma."
"yes, mama. you look like mama. that means you're also pretty and beautiful." he kisses her cheek.
"pi. pi!"
satoru nods in understanding, acting like your baby just said something revolutionary. "yes. pretty. that's you," he pinches her nose, she huffs. "and mama. my pretty girls."
"when you grow up, you need to marry someone who'll preach your beauty like how i do to your mom, okay? never date a boy who doesn't tell you how beautiful you are every passing day." satoru whispers, eyes locked onto an identical pair to yours.
his daughter only yawns in response, dropping her head into his sternum. satoru adjusts her so she's laying on her back in the middle of you two. instinctively, your baby wiggles around, searching for your warmth in her sleep. satoru only sighs with a smile. what a velcro baby he's raising.
from jade: self-indulgent dad gojo fic bcuz im ovulating and im sleepy and i got crazy baby fever from spending a few days at my aunt's and her two month old baby boy and i also wrote this instead of stressing out over my groupworks so enjoy tehe
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the room fills with absolute, soul-leaving-the-body silence.
you step into the living room, smile bright and easy. “hi! i’ve heard so much about you guys!”
you wave, and your bracelets jingle, your hair bounces, your voice is warm and musical.
and you look…yeah. you look insane.
low-cut top, skirt that fits just right, glossy lips and sparkling eyes. the kind of pretty that makes people sit up straight without realizing.
across from you, gojo’s frozen. geto’s blinking like his brain’s buffering, and toji stares at you, a little dazed.
“choso talks about you all the time!” you continue, undeterred, clasping your hands together.
three heads snap towards choso, who’s’ standing there stiffly, one hand hovering near your back, his face dusted pink.
gojo’s mouth opens and closes. “…huh?”
“girlfriend?” geto repeats for clarification.
you hum, looping your hands through choso’s arm. “yeah!”
“how,” toji adds, very seriously, “did you pull her?”
you gasp softly. “oh my god, that’s so rude—”
choso stiffens, but before he can say anything : “he didn’t pull me,” you continue, almost offended. “i liked him first.”
silence. again.
“you like weird, quiet choso?” gojo asks incredulously. “you can’t even see his eyes! his hair’s—”
“he’s perfect,” you say with a grin. “choso’s so sweet. he listens to me ramble, like, all the time, which is impressive, honestly.”
choso’s ears redden. “i don’t mind,” he says quietly.
you smile at him. “i know.”
gojo presses a hand to his chest. “this has to be a glitch in the matrix.”
toji just laughs. “nah, the quiet ones always—”
“alright,” choso says, and his hand finally settles at the small of your back, gentle but certain. “we’re going upstairs.”
you brighten immediately. “oh! okay!” you lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“lead the way,” you hum.
choso’s entire face goes red, from collar to ears, eyes wide for half a second before he manages a stiff nod.
“…yes,” he manages, already turning, one hand finding yours.
“wait, are we watching that movie you mentioned? the weird one with the—”
your voices fade up the stairs.
after a few seconds, gojo launches to his feet. “how—how did he—she’s—”
“a campus ten,” geto supplies.
“a twelve,” toji corrects.
upstairs, in choso’s room, you curl into his side, nuzzling your face happily into his neck.
“do you think they liked me?” you ask nervously, chewing on your bottom lip.
choso gives you a small smile, kissing your forehead. “i’m sure they did.”
you tangle your legs with his, reaching for the remote. “well, it only matters if you like me, anyway.” you give him a pointed look, smiling. “which you better.”
“i do! i do, a lot,” choso splutters with a reddened face.
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