- side blog > main: @sturduststrailss basically a blog for ALL the sukuna fics i reaccomand!! pls lmk if you want to be moots i would love to have moots! ♡

pinterest: there are ALL my inspos for my fics 📍💌

spotify: where there are some playlists while reading 🎧🎧

requests: open

my works are mostly sfw -> m.list

get to know me + rules

do not copy, translate, feed my work into ai or repost my work.

☆ get to know me / about this blog

hi, i'm stardust ♡ and welcome to my safe place!

for now i'm mostly posting for Sukuna, but i'm open to write for:

• JJK

• MHA

• AOT

• Blue Lock

• Death Note

• Haikyuu!!

• if you have a request for something else, just ask, im really open about everything

requests: open

a little about me:

im actually half italian, half thai

i speak italian, thai, english, spanish, french and japanese

i LOVE reading classics

i like to paint 🎨

i really like Yatora from Blue Period

any age can interact here — i just write what feels right

my socials are alr in the main page of the blog!

imma a huge BL manhwa reader — Opposite Attract, Codename Anastasia, Low Tide in Twilight, Full Volume, Nerd Project, pearl boy and so many more i've lost count.. TT

im a super fan of Trapnest 👀my fav character is Reira despite what she did to Shin!

90% all the fics i write is inspired by some songs i was listening to

i also enjoy playing yansim (i dont support the creator! Heavily.)

my fav aus to write sukuna are two: boxer!kuna or military!kuna (id see him as a colonel tbh)

my tiktok 🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️ is private but lmk if u follow me bc mnot aware👀

what i write / don't write:

✅ fluff, angst, smut,slow burn

❌ r4pe, noncon, fauxcest or any type of that.

Sukuna always loved the fact that his girlfriend had the same passion as him.

Boxing wasn’t just something the two of you did after work or on weekends. It was your whole lifestyle.

Early morning roadwork together. Wrapped hands. Bruised knuckles. Ice packs. Protein shakes at two in the morning after late training sessions.

He loved having someone who understood every sacrifice without needing an explanation.

But there was one thing he absolutely couldn’t stand.

The men.

Every damn guy at the gym somehow found an excuse to look at you.

It started innocently enough.

“Need someone to hold pads?”

“I can spar if Sukuna’s busy.”

“You’ve gotten faster.”

“You cut your hair?”

Little comments and little smiles.

Little stares that lingered a second too long.

Sukuna obviously noticed everything.

Especially how they watched you while you trained.

You weren’t flashy.

You didn’t wear revealing gym clothes.

But the way you moved…

Your footwork was beautiful.

You were quick and precise.

Every jab snapped back to your guard instantly, every hook carried ridiculous power for your size.

Watching you work the heavy bag was almost hypnotizing.

Apparently…

He wasn’t the only one who thought so.

One afternoon he was wrapping his hands while you worked mitts with the coach.

“Again.”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Faster.”

POP! POP!

“Beautiful.”

Sukuna looked up.

One of the newer guys was standing nearby.

Not training.

Just…

Watching you..

Completely zoned out.

His eyes followed every movement you made.

Sukuna’s eyebrow twitched.

“…You got a problem?”

The guy blinked.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring for five minutes.”

“I-I wasn’t staring—”

“You were.”

“I just think she’s really talented.”

“Yeah not shit that’s my girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Than quit looking at her like she’s the only thing here.”

The poor guy immediately walked away.

The funniest part?

You never noticed any of it.

You were painfully oblivious.

One day you happily jogged over to Sukuna after finishing sparring.

“Kuna!”

You wrapped your sweaty arms around his waist without caring who was watching.

“I landed that combo we practiced!”

“I saw.”

“And Coach said my defense finally looked good!”

“It did.”

“And Ken said—”

“Who?”

“The new heavyweight, he said my left hook reminds him of yours!”

“Ken.”

“Yeah!”

Sukuna smiled.

It wasn’t a happy smile.

Very, very unfortunate for Ken.

Everyone at the gym eventually caught on.

Not because Sukuna was possessive.

Because he was…

Territorial.

If someone stood a little too close while talking to you… Sukuna suddenly appeared beside you.

If someone offered to spar…

“I got her.”

If someone tried correcting your technique…

“She’s fine.”

“Sukuna.”

“What?”

“I’ve literally been boxing since I was fourteen.”

“I know.”

“So I can survive talking to people.”

“I know, doesn’t mean they get to.”

The irony?

You were exactly the same.

Just… but much quieter about it.

A young woman once asked Sukuna if he’d help her with body-shot drills.

Before he could answer—

“I’ll do it.”

You smiled politely.

“I’m his partner today.”

The woman looked between the two of you before quietly backing off.

Later, Sukuna smirked.

“So.”

“So?”

“You jealous?”

You scoffed.

“No.”

“…Maybe a little.”

He laughed—a genuine, deep laugh that echoed through the empty gym.

“You hypocrite.”

“Says you.”

“I never denied it.”

“Fair…”

Then you bumped your forehead against his.

“Besides…”

You looked up at him with a tiny grin.

“They can stare all they want.”

Your hand slipped into his wrapped one.

“I’m still going home with the heavyweight champion.”

His ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“Shut up.”

“You blushed!!”

“I didn’t.”

“You definitely did.”

“One more word and I’m making you spar ten extra rounds.”

original work, do not stole, copy, plagiarize my work - sturduststrails

How baby!yuji was made?

You and Sukuna never planned to have a baby. Realistically speaking, freshly married, you both wanted to enjoy being husband and wife first. You talked about traveling, decorating your home, teasing each other over what color to paint the nursery “one day”—but that day always felt far away.

Still… You already had a little note in your phone titled “Baby Names.”

It started as a joke.

One night, curled up on the couch, you’d asked, “If we ever had a boy… what would you name him?”

Sukuna had rolled his eyes dramatically.

“…You’re planning our nonexistent kid already?”

“Just answer.”

After a long pause, he’d quietly replied,

“…Yuji.”

You smiled so brightly that he pretended not to notice.

From then on, the list slowly grew.

A few boy names.

A few girl names.

Tiny conversations that always ended with, “Not anytime soon, though.”

And that was the truth.

Neither of you were trying for a baby.

Life simply had other plans.

Weeks later, you found yourself unusually tired.

You blamed stress.

Then came the strange cravings, the mornings where even the smell of coffee made your stomach turn, and the moments where Sukuna would look at you suspiciously before asking,

“…You okay?”

"’m just tired.”

“You’ve been ‘just tired’ for a week.”

Eventually, mostly to prove him wrong, you bought a pregnancy test on your way home.

You weren’t nervous.

If anything, you were expecting a negative.

Sukuna was in the kitchen making dinner when you quietly disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later…

Silence.

You stared. Once. Twice. Three times.

“…No way.”

Your hands started shaking.

Not because you were unhappy.

Just because your entire future had shifted in the span of a few minutes.

When you walked back into the kitchen, Sukuna immediately looked up.

“You alright?”

You couldn’t even find the words.

You simply held the test out.

He frowned, took it from your hand…

…and went completely still.

Neither of you spoke.

For what felt like forever.

Then, almost in disbelief, he looked back at you.

“…We’re having a baby?”

You nodded, tears already forming in your eyes.

A slow smile spread across his face—the kind of smile you rarely saw, soft and completely genuine.

He crossed the room in two steps and wrapped you in the tightest hug.

“So…”

His voice was quieter than usual.

“I guess we really are meeting Yuji sooner than we thought.”

You laughed through your tears.

“Maybe.”

“No,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

“I think it’s him.”

Neither of you knew what kind of parents you’d become.

Neither of you knew how much your lives were about to change.

All you knew was that your little family had just begun.

RED FEATHERS hawks x reader

Hawks lounged against the headboard, golden eyes half-lidded as he watched you step into the bedroom. The late afternoon light spilled across the rumpled sheets, highlighting every curve of your body still flushed from the shower. He crooked a finger, voice low and teasing. "C'mere, dove. Been thinking about you all day."

You climbed onto the mattress and straddled his lap. His hands immediately found your hips, thumbs stroking slow circles over bare skin. The red wings at his back shifted, feathers brushing your thighs as he pulled you closer until your core pressed against the hard line of his cock through his sweats.

"Missed this," he murmured, leaning in to nip at your throat. His tongue followed the bite, licking a hot stripe up to your ear. "Missed how wet you get for me." His fingers slipped between your legs, parting your folds and sliding two digits inside without warning. You clenched around him, hips rocking instinctively. Hawks groaned, pumping his fingers deeper, curling them to hit that perfect spot.

"That's it. Ride my hand, baby." He added a third finger, stretching you open while his thumb circled your clit. Slick sounds filled the room with every thrust of his wrist. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in as pleasure built fast and sharp.

Hawks pulled his fingers free, sucking them clean with a wicked grin before shoving his sweats down. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip. He lined himself up and thrust upward in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt inside your pussy. You cried out, walls fluttering around the sudden fullness.

He set a relentless pace, hips snapping up to meet yours. Each stroke dragged his cock along your inner walls, hitting deep. Feathers from his wings curled around your waist, holding you steady as he fucked up into you. "Fuck, you're tight," he panted, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple, rolling the stiff peak between his fingers.

You leaned forward, bracing your palms on his chest. The new angle let him grind against your clit with every thrust. Sweat slicked your skin where you met. His free hand gripped your ass, spreading you wider so he could watch his cock disappear inside you again and again.

"Gonna fill you up mh?" he growled, pace growing erratic. His wings flared, red feathers trembling. You clenched hard around him as your orgasm hit, pussy pulsing and milking his length. Hawks followed with a sharp groan, burying himself deep as hot cum flooded your core. He kept shallow thrusts through both climaxes, pushing every drop inside.

When you finally collapsed against his chest, he wrapped his arms and wings around you, pressing lazy kisses to your temple. "Round two in five minutes," he whispered, already half-hard again inside you.

The room glowed with a golden-hour light and the scent of vanilla lingered on the sheets. Hawks chuckled before rolling you onto your back. His wings spread wide, casting shadows across your body as he dipped his head between your thighs.

"Taste so sweet," he murmured, tongue dragging through your folds, lapping at the mix of your slick and his cum. You moaned, fingers threading into his hair as his tongue circled your clit.

He sucked your clit between his lips, humming low, the vibration making your hips buck. Two fingers slid back inside you, pumping slowly while his tongue worked faster. "Ah—Keigo—fuck…" you gasped, thighs trembling around his head. He moaned against your pussy, the sound muffled but filthy, tongue flicking rapidly until your second orgasm crashed through you.

You cried out, back arching, pussy clenching around his fingers. Hawks licked you through it, drinking every drop before crawling up your body. His cock, hard again, nudged at your entrance. "Want more?" he asked, voice rough. You nodded, pulling him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He thrust in deep, both of you moaning at the stretch. The bed creaked under his pace, feathers brushing your skin in teasing strokes. "So fucking good," he grunted, hips snapping. Your moans mixed with the wet slap of skin on skin.

Hawks flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. He slammed back in from behind, one hand fisting your hair. "Take it," he growled, feathers tickling your clit from behind. You screamed his name, cumming hard around his cock. He followed with a guttural moan, filling you again, cum dripping down your thighs.

Collapsed together in the sunlit room, he nuzzled your neck. "Love you like this," he whispered, wings wrapping around you both. The picture's warm vibe lingered, scents of apricot and fresh cream mixing with sex in the air.

inspired by a video on tt : @/infastidjta

PLAY WITH FIRE dabi x reader

The bedroom is dim, the only real light coming from the faint blue spill through the sheer curtains and the low, hungry glow of Dabi’s flames licking across his fingers. The sheets are already wrecked—twisted, damp, kicked halfway off the mattress. He’s got you pinned on your stomach, one scarred hand pressing between your shoulder blades while the other hovers just above the curve of your ass.

"Oh yeah? You like how my flames burn your skin?" His voice is rough, smoke-rough, the kind that scrapes right down your spine. "Mh..such a good girl."

He doesn’t wait for an answer. The tip of his index finger ignites, a tiny controlled tongue of blue fire that he drags in a slow, deliberate line across the small of your back. The heat kisses first, then bites—sharp, bright, perfect. You jerk, a broken sound slipping out, and he chuckles low in his throat, pressing you harder into the mattress.

Sweat beads instantly where the flame kisses you. The room already smells like it: salt and skin, the sharp bite of whiskey from the half-empty glass on the nightstand, the faint tang of leather from the belt he’d looped around your wrists earlier. Smoke curls lazily from the singed spot on your back, thin and gray, mixing with the heavier scent of sex that clings to the sheets.

Dabi leans down, tongue flicking out to soothe the fresh mark with one slow, wet lick. "Look at that," he murmurs against your skin. "Pretty little burn. You’re taking it so well." His free hand slides down, fingers parting your thighs so he can push two thick digits inside your dripping cunt without warning. The stretch punches a gasp out of you; he curls them immediately, finding that spot that makes your hips buck back against him.

He keeps the flame low, controlled, tracing another line—this time along the swell of your ass. The heat blooms, then fades into a throbbing ache that melts straight into the pleasure of his fingers fucking into you. Every time you clench around him he rewards you with another slow drag of fire, another murmured "good girl" that vibrates against your spine.

The leather belt bites into your wrists when you try to reach back for him. He clicks his tongue, pulls his fingers free, and slaps your ass once—hard enough to sting, not hard enough to bruise. Then the head of his cock is nudging at your entrance, hot and heavy, the piercings along the underside catching on your folds.

"Gonna fuck you while I mark you," he growls, voice thick. "Every time you clench I’ll burn a little higher. You want that?"

You nod frantically into the pillow. He sinks in with one long, relentless thrust, bottoming out so deep your vision whites. The moment your walls flutter around him he presses the flat of his palm to the small of your back again and lets the flames dance—controlled, precise, painting thin lines of heat across your skin while he starts to fuck you in earnest.

The bed creaks. The whiskey glass tips and spills a little across the wood. Smoke and sweat and leather and the sharp ozone of his quirk fill the air until it’s thick enough to choke on. Dabi fucks you through it, one hand gripping your hip, the other writing fire across your back in lazy, possessive strokes.

"That’s it," he rasps when you come, walls pulsing around his cock, "come on my dick while I burn you. Such a fucking good girl for me."

He doesn’t stop until the sheets are soaked and your back is a map of glowing lines—temporary, beautiful, only his. Then he let the flames die, replace them with his mouth, licking and sucking over every fresh mark while he grinds deep and fills you up, hips stuttering as he groans your name into your sweat-slick skin.

Dabi stays buried inside you for a long moment, chest heaving against your back, the heat of his body pressing you into the mattress. His breath is hot on the nape of your neck, mixing with the lingering smell of smoke and whiskey. Slowly he pulls out, the drag of his cock making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. He unties the belt from your wrists with careful fingers, rubbing the red marks left behind.

"Turn over," he says quietly, voice still rough but softer now. You roll onto your back, wincing as the fresh burns press against the sheets. Dabi’s turquoise eyes trace every line he left on your skin, something almost reverent in the way he looks at you. He leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth, then lower, sucking a bruise into the side of your throat.

"You did so good for me," he murmurs against your pulse. "Took every mark like you were made for it." His hand slides between your legs again, two fingers pushing back inside your slick cunt, feeling how wet you still are. "Still dripping. Fuck, you really do like it when I burn you."

You reach up, fingers threading through his black hair, tugging him down for a proper kiss. He tastes like smoke and whiskey, tongue sliding against yours as he fucks you slowly with his fingers. The piercings on his cock drag against your thigh, already hardening again.

"Want more?" he asks, pulling back just enough to look at you. "Or you need a break?"

You shake your head, legs spreading wider in silent invitation. Dabi’s mouth curves into a sharp grin. He shifts, lining himself up again, and sinks back into you with one smooth thrust. This time he stays close, chest to chest, one hand braced beside your head while the other grips your hip.

"Gonna fill you up again," he promises, voice low and filthy. "Gonna fuck you until you can’t walk straight tomorrow. Until every time you sit down you feel me and remember exactly who marked you." His hips roll in deep, deliberate strokes, the head of his cock dragging over that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

You moan his name, nails digging into his shoulders. Dabi groans, pace picking up, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room. He leans down, teeth scraping over the shell of your ear.

"Say it," he demands. "Tell me you’re mine."

"Yours," you gasp, voice breaking as another orgasm builds. "All yours, Dabi."

He growls in approval, hips snapping harder. One hand slips between your bodies, thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts. The pressure builds fast, white-hot, until you’re clenching around him again, crying out as you come. Dabi fucks you through it, pace turning erratic, until he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside you with a low, broken moan.

He stays there, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours. After a moment he pulls out carefully, watching his cum drip from your swollen cunt. He drags two fingers through the mess and pushes it back inside, possessive and lazy.

"Keep that in there," he murmurs. "Don’t waste a drop." He kisses you again, slower this time, almost sweet. "My good girl."

The two of you lie tangled together in the ruined sheets, the smell of sex and smoke and whiskey heavy in the air. Dabi’s fingers trace idle patterns over the burns on your back, soothing now instead of burning. Outside the window the city hums on, but in this dim, messy room there’s only the two of you—marked, claimed, and utterly spent.

inspired by a video on tt : @/infastidjta

baby!yuji loves dad!kuna

Yuji ALWAYS runs too fast when he sees Sukuna.

The second his dad appears, all common sense leaves his tiny body.

One evening Sukuna comes home, you and Yuji are in the living room when the front door opens.

And immediately—

“DADAAAAA.”

Tiny feet SLAPPING against the floor at maximum speed

You barely have time to say:

“Yuji slow do—” Too late.

His little socks slide on the hardwood floor and suddenly—

THUD.

Dead silence

Yuji just lays there for one second in complete shock.

Not even crying yet.

Just processing

And Sukuna’s entire soul leaves his body.

“Yuji.”

He crosses the room in like two steps while you’re already kneeling down too.

Then comes the reaction

Tiny face crumpling.

Lip wobbling violently.

“…dadAAAAA.”

Instant sobbing.

Not even because it hurt that badly.

Mostly because he was emotionally devastated he fell while trying to get to Sukuna

And Sukuna looks genuinely stressed.

Scoops him up immediately, checking his face, hands, knees..

“You okay?”

“Lemme see.”

“You hit your head?”

Meanwhile Yuji is clinging to his shirt dramatically crying into his neck.

“Was runnin :(“

“Yeah I saw that.”

You’re trying not to laugh because Sukuna sounds personally offended at the floor.

Then Yuji hiccups sadly:

“Floor mean.”

Sukuna nods seriously.

“Floor’s a bitch.”

“SUKUNA.”

And honestly the cutest part is that even while crying, Yuji STILL only wants Sukuna.

Tiny arms locked around his neck.

Wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

So Sukuna just carries him around the house while he calms down.

Not even trying to put him down.

One tattooed hand rubbing his tiny back gently while Yuji sniffles himself sleepy.

Later Yuji whispers sadly:

“Wanted dada…”

Sukuna actually looks heartbroken for a second.

“I know, brat.”

From then on, every time Sukuna comes home and Yuji starts running full speed toward him, Sukuna immediately crouches down with his arms open like:

“Slow your little ass down first.”

Yuji never listens though..

bf!sukuna comforting gf!reader

(pure fluff, comforting + i cried writing this)

The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside rain tapped lightly against the windows, streaking the glass with silver lines while the clock on the microwave blinked 2:13 AM in dull green numbers.

You sat curled on the kitchen floor in one of Sukuna’s hoodies, knees against your chest, staring blankly at nothing and still you hadn’t turned the lights on.

Hadn’t answered your phone.

Hadn’t moved for almost an hour.

And when the front door finally unlocked, you didn’t even look up.

Heavy footsteps paused immediately.

Then—

“Baby?”

His voice changed instantly.

Not the rough, cocky tone he used with everyone else. Soft. Careful. Like he was approaching something fragile.

Sukuna dropped his gym bag by the door and crossed the apartment fast, crouching in front of you.

“Hey,” he murmured. “What’re you doin’ down here in the dark?”

You shrugged weakly.

He looked at your face for a long moment, red eyes scanning every little thing—the exhaustion under your eyes, the untouched tea beside you gone cold, the way your fingers trembled inside his sleeves.

And his entire expression softened.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

The nickname nearly broke you.

Your lips pressed together hard as tears burned suddenly behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered automatically.

His brows pulled together immediately. “Why the hell are you apologizing?”

“I dunno… I just—” Your voice cracked. “I can’t stop feeling like this.”

Sukuna exhaled slowly through his nose, like he was physically forcing himself to stay gentle.

Then he reached out carefully, sliding both hands under your arms.

“C’mere.”

You resisted weakly. “Kuna, I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not.” His voice stayed soft anyway. “And that’s okay.”

Before you could protest again, he lifted you effortlessly into his lap and sat against the kitchen cabinets with you tucked against his chest.

Warm and safe.

One large hand rubbed slowly up and down your back.

“Have you eaten today?”

“…No.” A tiny shake of your head.

He sighed quietly and pressed his lips to your temple.

You hated how pathetic you felt. Hated how dependent this moment made you seem.

“I’m ruining your night,” you mumbled.

That made him pull back immediately.

His hand came up to cradle your jaw firmly, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“But—”

“You think I care about anything else when you’re hurting?”

Your throat tightened.

Sukuna wasn’t good at pretty speeches. He wasn’t poetic. Wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things.

But he loved hard.

Completely.

“You don’t gotta pretend around me,” he said quietly. “If getting through the day is hard right now, then it’s hard. Doesn’t make you annoying.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

He wiped it away with his thumb instantly.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

And there was nothing cruel in his face. Nothing impatient.

Just worry.

“You stay alive long enough for me to love you through this, aight?”

That did break you.

A sob escaped your chest before you could hide it, and Sukuna immediately pulled you fully against him, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I got you,” he whispered into your hair. “I got you, baby.”

No rushing.

Just his warm hands rubbing your back, fingers threading through your hair, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

Eventually, when your breathing calmed a little, he shifted enough to stand—still carrying you.

“Kuna—”

“Nope. You’re not walking.”

Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you.

“There she is,” he murmured with a faint smile.

He carried you to the couch, wrapped you in blankets, then disappeared briefly into the kitchen.

You heard cabinets opening.

The microwave humming.

A minute later he returned with instant ramen, cut fruit, and water balanced carefully in his tattooed hands.

“You’re gonna eat a little,” he said. “And then I’m putting on that stupid baking show you like.”

“You hate that show.”

“Yeah,” he said flatly, handing you the bowl. “But you smile at the old lady with the cupcakes, so now I’m emotionally attached to Brenda.”

You laughed again—small and watery.

Sukuna pretended not to notice the way your hands shook when you reached for the chopsticks.

Not because he didn’t care.

Because he knew you hated being watched when things got bad.

So instead, he leaned back into the couch beside you, one arm stretched across the cushions behind your head while the baking show played quietly on the TV.

Some overly cheerful woman was crying over sponge cake.

You sniffled. “She dropped it for like… three seconds. Why’s she acting like someone died?”

“She’s weak,” Sukuna said immediately.

A tiny smile tugged at your mouth.

There it is.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Sukuna always noticed.

You managed a few bites before your appetite disappeared again, and when you started absentmindedly stirring the noodles instead of eating, his eyes flicked over.

“That all you can do?”

You nodded guiltily.

“Okay.”

No disappointment.

He took the bowl from your hands and set it aside before tugging you closer until your legs rested over his lap.

Sukuna’s fingers kept tracing slow patterns against your calf through the blanket.

Your head eventually tipped against his shoulder, exhaustion dragging at you now that the worst of the crying had passed.

Quietly, you whispered, “Do you ever get tired of me?”

The room seemed to still.

Sukuna looked down at you slowly.

“Tired of you?”

You instantly regretted saying it.

“It’s stupid, forget it—”

“No.” His hand slid up to the back of your neck gently. Don’t ask me something and then take it back.”

Your chest tightened.

He studied your face for a second before speaking.

“I get tired of the way you talk about yourself.”

Your eyes widened slightly.

“I get tired of seeing you hurt,” he continued quietly. “I get tired of watching you apologize for existing.” His thumb brushed your skin softly. “But you?” He shook his head once. “Never.”

The sincerity in his voice hurt worse than anything else.

Because part of you still didn’t understand how someone like him could say things like that and mean them.

“I’m hard to love,” you whispered.

Sukuna actually frowned.

Like the statement irritated him.

“Says who?”

“…Me.”

“Well, your brain’s a liar sometimes.”

You stared at him.

And he looked so genuinely certain.

Like loving you was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

“You know what you do when I come home?” he asked suddenly.

You blinked. “What?”

“You peek through the blinds when you hear my bike outside.”

Heat crept into your face immediately. “I do not.”

“You do,” he said smugly. “Every damn time.”

“That’s creepy. Why are you watching me watch you?”

“Because you’re cute.”

You groaned softly and hid your face against his shoulder.

He chuckled under his breath, deep and warm, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“And every morning,” he continued, quieter now, “you make coffee and forget your own cup because you’re busy making mine exactly how I like it.”

Your throat tightened again.

“And when you think I’m asleep, you fix the blanket on me.” Another kiss against your forehead. “You remember what days are hard for me without me saying anything. You leave little notes in my lunch even though your handwriting sucks.”

A weak offended noise left you.

“There she is again,” he murmured softly, smiling.

Then his expression gentled.

“So don’t sit here and tell me you’re hard to love.”

Your eyes burned all over again.

Sukuna noticed immediately and sighed dramatically.

“Ah, shit. C’mere.”

He pulled you fully into his chest before the tears could fall again, wrapping both arms around you and laying back against the couch with you on top of him.

You listened to his heartbeat while his hand stroked slowly through your hair.

Steady.

Patient.

Safe.

After a long silence, you mumbled against his shirt, “You’re too good to me.”

“Nah,” he said easily. “Just good to the right person.”

And for the first time in weeks— the heaviness in your chest didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.

By the third episode of the baking show, you were practically glued to him.

Not that Sukuna seemed to mind.

One of your legs was tangled with his, your face buried in his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his waist beneath his hoodie like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go for even a second.

Every time he shifted even slightly, your grip tightened again.

He noticed.

But instead of teasing you immediately, he just rested his chin on top of your head and kept rubbing slow circles into your back.

“Tired?” he murmured.

You shook your head against him.

(what a lie)

He could feel it in the way your body melted heavier into his every minute.

Still, you clung tighter.

Sukuna glanced down finally, amused warmth flickering in his eyes.

“You tryin’ to crawl inside my ribcage or what?”

“Maybe.”

Your voice came out muffled against his throat.

A quiet laugh rumbled in his chest.

“Dramatic.”

But his arms wrapped around you even tighter anyway.

You inhaled slowly, comforted by everything about him—the smell of his cologne and rain, the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

It made your chest ache.

Because lately everything in your mind felt exhausting and heavy and loud— except him.

With him, things went quiet.

“You’re comfy,” you mumbled sleepily.

“I better be. You use me as a damn weighted blanket every day.”

“…You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

You lifted your head just enough to squint at him.

He was already smirking.

Liar.

Your expression softened before you could stop it.

God, you loved him.

Loved him so much it scared you sometimes.

Sukuna noticed the look immediately.

His brows lifted slightly. “What?”

“Nothin’.”

“Bullshit.”

You hid your face again.

He snorted softly. “Baby.”

One hand slid under your jaw, gently forcing your face back up toward him.

His expression shifted the second he really looked at you.

Not teasing anymore.

Just soft.

“What’s goin’ on in that head?”

You stared at him for a second too long before the words slipped out quietly.

“I really love you.”

The room went still.

Not awkward.

Just full.

Heavy with something warm and overwhelming.

Sukuna’s entire face softened in a way almost nobody else ever got to see.

His thumb brushed slowly over your cheek.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded, eyes already getting shiny again from how intensely you felt everything tonight.

“So much,” you whispered. “Like… too much.”

A tiny crease appeared between his brows immediately.

“There’s no such thing.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down and kissed you.

Slow. Careful.

You melted instantly, hands grabbing the front of his shirt while he held your face so gently it made your chest hurt.

When he pulled back, he stayed close enough for his forehead to rest against yours.

“I love you more than anything,” he said quietly.

And Sukuna almost never sounded vulnerable.

But he did now.

Raw and certain.

“You hear me?” he murmured. “More than anything.”

Your eyes filled completely this time.

“Oh, c’mon,” he sighed softly, smiling a little as he wiped beneath your eyes. “Why’re you cryin’ again?”

“You’re just…” You laughed shakily. “Too sweet.”

“That sounds fake.”

“It’s not.”

“Hm.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me.”

You smiled for real then. Small.

Beautiful enough to make his chest ache.

There it is.

Sukuna stared at you for a moment like he wanted to memorize the sight.

Then you suddenly climbed fully into his lap without warning, wrapping yourself around him again.

He blinked once.

“…Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

“You cling harder than a haunted doll.”

But his hands were already settling securely on your waist.

You tucked your face into his chest with a content little sigh.

“I just wanna be close to you.”

The honesty of it nearly killed him.

Sukuna leaned back into the couch, one hand smoothing through your hair over and over.

“Then stay close,” he whispered.

So you did.

And sometime later, long after the baking show ended, Sukuna looked down to find you fast asleep on top of him— still holding onto his shirt tightly even in your dreams.

He smiled so softly no one else would’ve believed it.

Then he pulled the blanket higher around you and kissed your forehead carefully.

“Love you too, clingy girl.”

hai! Ive been so busy this month, i wrote this after several episodes in which i felt 100% like reader and I thought it was a good idea to write something, so as not to make other people feel alone.

original work, do not stole, copy, plagiarize my work - sturduststrails