smau: featuring the jjk men where reader accidentally looses her engagement ring and she's freaking out but they're there to console her and tell her that everything is okay.

main: @flvvffy

permanent taglist: @cornthebluedog @tntoothless @vleixieee @impeachybabie @bloogiro @sweeteraspie @originalcloudtrench @renny-kuna26 @paradisestarfish @flyhighwithme1277andgotothesky @melancholicreaper @eloise-doukakis @hiiuu2222 @eclipseahmed3 @i-heartdinos

꒰impatient꒱ husband!nanami almost missed his son's birth ꩜ angst to fluff; comfort. art by @/mamitasoa7x0312

Nanami's heart beat louder than it ever had as he drove to you. 

Ignoring every traffic light and speed limit. This wasn't like him, but he could feel bad about it later. Right now, there was only thing he had to do – get to you.

As fast as he fucking could.

Were you scared? Were you in pain?

Of course you were in pain.

And he wasn't there.

His foot slammed the accelerator again, the hospital building finally coming into view up ahead.

It wasn't meant to happen this early, he was caught off guard at work – but as soon as your anxious voice reached him from the phone and tried to explain that your water had broke, he left the office without a word. Later he'd notice the missed calls from his boss, but again – he didn't care. 

Everything was out the window the minute you needed him.

You were in pain. You were having his baby.

What was supposed to be a joyous moment shared by the two of you, now meant nothing but fear from both sides.

Another traffic light ignored, but it was finally the last one.

The nurse must have thought he was losing his mind when he reached the front desk, giving her your name through ragged breaths. "Mr. Nanami?" she tried to confirm, and he only managed an exhausted nod.

His hair was a mess, tie undone, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. But when the nurse finally showed him the way, Nanami followed close, almost overtaking her as if this was a race.

And finally, the sterile hospital corridor led to a door, and the door led to you.

Looking as sweaty as he was, holding your swollen belly with two hands, face twisting in pain.

But when you saw him, something visibly changed – your breathing hitched, your shoulders dropped, and the pain gave way to a smile. One the two of you desperately needed.

"Ken?" you whispered, tears already slipping through your beautiful cheeks. 

"I'm here" he rushed to your side, sitting next to your bed and placing both hands on top of yours. On your stomach, near your son. "I am so sorry, my love" he took one to kiss your knuckles, the other gently rubbing your skin, small circles he hoped might settle the two of you.

"I'm so happy you're here" you cried, interlocking your fingers with his, the golden wedding band glistening in the cold overhead light. 

"What did the doctors say? Do you need anything? Water? How bad is the pain? Is he ok?" Nanami wasn't even sure what he was saying, just going through the practicals first. As if you knew it was the only way to help him relax, you let out a soft giggle. 

"Everything is fine" you reassured, looking down at your stomach and the person you had been waiting months to meet. 

Nanami followed your gaze, taking his eyes from you for the first time. He brought his body forwards a little, leaning over to press a kiss just above your belly button. "Already impatient, just like your mother" he shook his head, finally allowing himself to relax.

"I'm not sure about that" you smiled. "Looks like he was ready and didn't want to do overtime, like someone I know" 

Nanami looked up at you then, letting out a small chuckle himself. He pushed up, cupping your cheek gently. "He's perfect" he said, with a kiss to your forehead. "So I'm sure he takes after you"

In your husband's embrace, you finally began to breathe a little easier. The pain was coming and going, getting more intense with every contraction, but Nanami was right there holding your hand, rubbing your back, instructing you through breathing exercises. 

His brows furrowed when you groaned, wishing he could take all the pain from you and give to himself. But he didn't let you see him so worried – Nanami was completely focused on you. 

"You're doing so well" he kissed your shoulder when it hurt too much. "I love you" he whispered, as you almost broke his hand with how hard you squeezed it. 

Nanami didn't care about anything else in the world right now, just his two favourite people. The one in his arms, and the one he was about to meet. 

love is blind ! or perhaps, silent ? ⤷ ゛ ✮ sukuna’s  wife gets some godawful advice . . .

you wanted to be the perfect partner for sukuna, naturally. which in turn meant doing exactly what the wives of the court insisted: learning the sacred art of not speaking to your husband for as long as you can to, “cultivate intimacy”  . . ? or so you were told.

unfortunately, much to your displeasure, you had only lasted until the third hour. reason being—to put it quite plainly—ryomen sukuna is quite the relentless man . . .

he let out a sigh. a very loud, obnoxious sigh.

“i wish for my wife to talk to me.”

nothing.

“i wish for my wife to deign to speak to her husband.”

. . .

“i wish for my wife to cease such an absurd performance, and speak to me how she normally does. it is tiresome. the silence. do you not agree?”

your footwear scuffed softly against the cobblestone path as you came to an abrupt halt. the warmth that normally lingered in your gaze gave way to mild annoyance, though not enough to be mistaken for genuine displeasure.

try as you might, you could never remain upset with your beloved for long.

“i have heard you the first time sukuna, what is that you want?” you huff, the words drawn out in mild exasperation. tilting your head back to look up at him, your lips pressed into a faint pout, brows knitting together in a questioning glance.

sukuna only halts with you, standing a few feet ahead of you. “sukuna?” he repeats, perplexed, his gaze narrowing slightly at the unfamiliar distance between you. 

usually, you referred to him by far gentler names. my beloved. simply, husband. my lord, when you wished to pester him. simply “sukuna” was a new low he had never imagined he would reach.

he scoffs, “to engage in conversation. i thought it to be rather obvious, was it not?”

you inhale sharply, as though it were painful to neglect your husband in such a way. perhaps it was. and yet, it was for the better.

“well, i cannot.”

“ . . . you, cannot?”

“i cannot.”

…. 

“have i done something to displease you? or wound your honor?” 

you look at him with quiet seriousness, a sorry attempt to stand your ground.

“no. you are disturbing the ritual,” you say, voice a mild but firm whisper, as though the contents of your speech were not meant to fall upon the ears of another.

“the ritual…”

“yes, the ritual.”

“what ritual do you speak of?”

“the one i am attempting to complete it.”

you huff under your breath. “or rather, the one you are making rather difficult. i have already spoken too much, and you are not helping.” 

you attempt to resume your way down the path, tucked between silk-draped garden pavilions, only for your unreasonably large husband to step in front of you. all four arms are crossed over his bare chest, a black haori draped over his broad shoulders.

when you finally glance at him, to your surprise, there is a deadly seriousness in his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine.

“where are you going? i believe we are in the middle of a conversation, are we not?”

you only suck in a sharp breath, splaying a fan to cover the lower half of your face, your eyes darting toward a nearby patch of cherry blossoms, anywhere but his own. “i cannot speak with you.” you reply softly, a gentle warmth rising to your cheeks, soft as ripened plums, taking a small step back from him.

his gaze narrows slightly, studying your unusual timidness, along with your peculiar mannerisms. “you do see how you are poking at my nerves, yes?”

“well, that only means it is working. so if you would only let me complete it to its entirety—” 

“working…?” he scoffs, only taking another step forward until there is nowhere left for you to retreat.

you take another step backward, then another, then another, until your shoulders brush against the wall behind you. only then do you finally stop. sukuna places a hand beside your head and stares down at you, all four eyes narrowed.

“wife.”

the single word causes you to blink. “you will explain this ritual to me. at once.”

you let out a groan as you raise the fan to cover your face entirely. “why is it that you cannot respect my privacy?” your voice slipping out in a low, uncertain whisper.

sukuna lets out a low chuckle at that.

well, you believe. you cannot see his face after all, but there is no trace of displeasure in it.

shortly after, you feel his warm heavy hand, one stained with years of work and war, gentle to the touch, lowering your wrist, and therefore the fan. his voice is low and soft, as if coaxing an answer out of you:

“you do not actually wish to be apart from me like this. do you?”

you only let out a soft groan as you give a small shake of your head; eyes soft and pliant, though a small frown lingers over your features.

“ah . . i see,” he hums, eyes scanning over your face before his lower hand comes up to cradle your chin. “and, who, has forced you to do such a thing? because it certainly has not been me.”

you sigh. “i have not been forced.” shrinking back behind your fan.

“i had wanted our marriage to be more intriguing, so i sought out the other wives for advisement.” you pause, watching him carefully. “they said i should not speak to you, so that things would be calmer . . and more . . intimate . . between us once we reunite. though i have heard little of the latter.”

you look up at him once more, lashes blinking uncertainly, as though searching his face for approval. except instead of any shocked or amused reaction, he simply stares at you for a long moment, then exhales slowly through his nose.

“please do not speak to those women again,”

“they are fools.” he says flatly. “you do realize we are as intimate as can be, correct? i have seen you cry. i have seen you without your robes. i have seen you at your most unguarded, and yet you still think there is more to achieve.”

you only smack him lightly with the spread of your bamboo fan. “you cannot just say that!”

“the reason this ‘ritual’ of theirs works is because they do not love their husbands,” he continues, unbothered. “that is why there is peace when they do not speak.”

. . .

“oh.”

and then, a small snicker escapes him, causing your head to whip toward him. an everso slight frown pulls at your lips before he promptly falls silent.

“you mock me.”

“i have said nothing.”

“you are smiling.”

a soft silence spreads between the two of you, lingering, to that of a breath being held for too long . . . before a low burst of laughter escapes his throat. a quiet, unrestrained cackle that makes your chest loosen despite yourself.

his hand comes up to rest over his mouth, while the other remains crossed over his chest, his shoulders shaking with each contained laugh.

“do not laugh!” you insist, though your voice wavers with lingering amusement. “i have done this for you!”

“must you look so aggrieved? i am only laughing with you.”

you huffed, loud and dramatic; “how can you laugh with me when i am not laughing at all?”

“very well”, he began, an infuriatingly smug smile working onto his face, “i’ll wait for you to start then.”

and then, as though a switch had been flipped; every trace of amusement vanished. the smile disappeared, his features settling back into the impassive countenance of a ruler, as if nothing at all had been amusing.

unbelievable.

but only after a moment does it slip from you too: soft at first, almost disbelieving, your laughter spilling out in quiet, uneven breaths before settling into something gentler. you cover your mouth with your fan, though it does little to hide it.

“i would prefer this be forgotten.”

“unfortunately, wife, i cannot grant you that mercy.”

and while you hated to admit it, the advice had been sound; simply at the expense of your last shred of dignity.

part 2, here

you always told sukuna to stop carrying you like a baby, but. he never listens, if he wants to do it—he'll do it.

there you are on his shoulders, you wanted to be put down. your friends, yuki, utahime and, shoko, had already arrived at the party.

"babyy... put me down!" you whined, wiggling between his head. you really, really, wanted to be put down,

"can't baby, you look cute up there." he replied, kissing your leg.

it tickled

your friends, snickering. as they approached you both.

"my, my. we haven't even got into the pool and you both are already playing chicken fight?" utahime giggled, looking up at you.

"it seems you're giving [name] a hard time, sukuna." yuki laughed, patting your knee.

"h-hey! not my fault!" you yelled. you were gonna fall any minute now.

"whatever, girl. approach us when you're finally down. it's gettin’ hot." shoko replied, the three of them already heading outside to the pool.

"what a way to go, kuna.." you mumbled, your head turning back, avoiding his face. though you were on top of him.

he smirked then held you by the waist, you were already in your bikini. he removed his shirt, he ran towards the pool—

"wait! k-kuna!" you yelped, trying to free from his grasp.

"hold on tight baby!" he yelled, running to the pool and jumping in with you in his arms.

splash!

you then emerged from the water a couple seconds later.

god, you have just done your makeup a couple minutes ago!

"ryomen fucking sukuna" you whispered, but. all of them could hear.

oh no.

sukuna vs. girl math

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

sukuna's voice was unfairly sexy. and when i say unfairly i mean it's really unfair to sound so hot when asking or saying something that should be normal. he doesn't really understand where you're coming from — but you swear his voice lowers anytime he's serious, with that sharp edge and yet trying to sound gentle at the same time.

his voice usually sounds the hottest when you're injured — doesn't really matter if it's because you fell on your own or someone else hurt you. when you're alone with him for no one else to see he sits you on the couch and knees infront of you — something he would never openly do infront of anyone but his wife — taking your injured ankle in his hand, analysing the severity of it while literally talking you through it — asking questions almost tenderly.

you're sitting there silent, appreciating the situation even while being hurt — it's not everyday he's so compassionate. the man inbetween your legs is gently touching the wound, thumb brushing where it looks the worst. and then like always, his voice dips deeper like he's more bothered — maybe even worried, about you being in pain than yourself "does it hurt here?" his fingers thighten just enough for you to feel the pressure, making you nod with a frown on your face.

"what about here? it hurts, yeah?" he's applying the same pressure and it stings way worse than the other point — you wince, leg flinching slightly at the feeling — it's not a obvious movement but he notices anyway. "mhmm i see. my poor wife. i will get uraume to tend to your injury. after you're done i excpect you to come find me and tell me how you're feeling."

there it is — his voice sounding strangely comforting for such a scary man — but there's nothing scary about the way he gets on his knees to tend to your injury, or his almost soft voice distracing you from the pain. and somehow, your cheeks getting warm from the intensity of it — the tone he's using usually reserved for the bedroom and yet — it has the same heat.

-> 0.8k, sfw!

you insisted on going to the horror movie night with your new boyfriend, sukuna, after overhearing his idiot frat brothers whispering about you.

“she’s really soft.”

“i've never seen ryo with a girl like her.”

“watch her piss herself at the first jumpscare.”

laughter all around.

and maybe it was stupid, but you wanted to prove them wrong. prove you could handle the same things as the girls he usually kept around. cool girls. confident girls. mature girls who didn’t cling to their boyfriend’s sleeve every five minutes.

so you sat beside sukuna and in that freezing theater, chin lifted stubbornly, pretending your stomach wasn’t already twisting from the opening music alone.

for the first thirty minutes, you held it together.

barely.

smau: featuring the jjk men where reader accidentally looses her engagement ring and she's freaking out but they're there to console her and tell her that everything is okay.

main: @flvvffy

permanent taglist: @cornthebluedog @tntoothless @vleixieee @impeachybabie @bloogiro @sweeteraspie @originalcloudtrench @renny-kuna26 @paradisestarfish @flyhighwithme1277andgotothesky @melancholicreaper @eloise-doukakis @hiiuu2222 @eclipseahmed3 @i-heartdinos

you were standing outside of your boyfriend’s apartment, waiting patiently, you held onto the strap of your overnight bag with so much emotion.

it’s your first time spending the night at his place. you hear his footsteps get closer. you anxiously take out your phone and get a quick good look at your appearance, i mean, you might lose your virginity tonight?

shit.

you’re completely barefaced. not even a coat of mascara. you look like a complete mess.

before you could dig something out of your bag. sukuna was towering over you. “hey” he says softly, the corners of his mouth twitched at the sight of you.

you don’t speak at first—you don’t even look him in the eye, your eyes glue themselves to the ground.

the shame and embarrassment you felt burned. it felt like your face was on fire. so many thoughts kept crossing your mind.

you're working out in the sports facility again, airpods in your ears as you do your RDLs and focus on engaging your glutes.

unbeknownst to you, there's someone who's eyes can't stop wandering over to you even as he tries to concentrate on his reps. who's subconsciously memorized nearly every aspect of your campus schedule and has been thinking (more like obsessing) over you for the past few weeks and strategizing how to ask you out when so many suitors have attempted and been turned down on the spot.

don't worry though, it's not some middle aged creep who's been stalking you around the city, or a scrappy freshman with no experience in exercising whatsoever who thinks he stands a chance at bagging you while barely passing any of his classes.

shockingly, it's the universities most pined after athlete, the sports captain, sukuna.

it's almost pathetic really, how you've been occupying such a vast amount of space in his mind while dozens of girls are practically lining up in his dms and kissing up to his ass. that's exactly his problem- why? why is he so damn consumed by you, when you barely ever give him the time of day?

but that's the answer to his question. it's because you don't acknowledge him that his mind has conditioned itself into hyperfixating on you. it's because you've never been to his games to cheer in the bleachers when he scores, or thrown yourself at him during his house parties, hell, he's never seen you at any party.

you're completely unbothered by him, and now he's utterly bothered by you.

so that's why he finally says fuck it and stands up from his workout bench, grabbing his phone and walking towards the pool area 5 minutes after you've left to finish off your workout with a few laps.

he sees you immediately, swimming back and forth in such an elegant way that his heart does a stutter that only serves to irritate the campus king even more as he practically stomps over to the pool's edge, nearly seething as he watches you swim towards it.

you're about to turn back around before you notice his towering frame over you and pause, your annoyingly alluring eyes staring up at him in tentative confusion, "... do you need something, sukuna?"

it's not fair how his breath hitches from the sound of his name on your lips, and he has to stop himself from staring at your mouth before he looks back up at your eyes and his words tumble out of his in an uncoordinated mess.

"yes, actually. look, i don't know how the hell to say this- but- these past weeks i've been fucking distracted, by you, and i don't know what the fuck to do about it. you're like a parasite that's latched onto my skull and keeps on digging into my brain and it's driving me insane- i mean- you don't even look at me and quite frankly you're one of the most beautiful girls i've ever seen and you're so fucking smart it's infuriating- so," he pauses briefly to catch his breath, dragging a hand over his face to collect himself as he sighs.

"what i'm asking is... would you wanna go on a date with me some time? i've been meaning to ask you for, i don't even know how long, so if you're gonna say no, please do it now so i can start forcing myself to get over yo-"

"okay."

sukuna stops in his tracks, mind going blank as he looks down at you with narrowed eyes, his mind reeling from the whiplash of your calm reply. "huh?"

you have to fight to keep the smirk off your lips as you repeat once again, slower as if talking to a confused child. "i said okay, give me your phone so i can put in my number."

as if not really believing it he scans your face before hesitantly opening up his contacts and handing his phone over, his brows furrowed in perplexity as he watches your manicured fingers move across the screen and you hand it back to him.

"text me in the evening so we can make plans, i'm free on tuesday."

sukuna's in a state of shock all the way back to his apartment. is this some kind if dream? a cruel joke played by the universe that he'll wake up from any second now?

well, as he steps into his shower half an hour later, it doesn't seem to be either. and before he can stop it the idiot can't stop himself from breaking out into a full blown grin. his teammates will never hear the end of this.

sukuna's voice was unfairly sexy. and when i say unfairly i mean it's really unfair to sound so hot when asking or saying something that should be normal. he doesn't really understand where you're coming from — but you swear his voice lowers anytime he's serious, with that sharp edge and yet trying to sound gentle at the same time.

his voice usually sounds the hottest when you're injured — doesn't really matter if it's because you fell on your own or someone else hurt you. when you're alone with him for no one else to see he sits you on the couch and knees infront of you — something he would never openly do infront of anyone but his wife — taking your injured ankle in his hand, analysing the severity of it while literally talking you through it — asking questions almost tenderly.

you're sitting there silent, appreciating the situation even while being hurt — it's not everyday he's so compassionate. the man inbetween your legs is gently touching the wound, thumb brushing where it looks the worst. and then like always, his voice dips deeper like he's more bothered — maybe even worried, about you being in pain than yourself "does it hurt here?" his fingers thighten just enough for you to feel the pressure, making you nod with a frown on your face.

"what about here? it hurts, yeah?" he's applying the same pressure and it stings way worse than the other point — you wince, leg flinching slightly at the feeling — it's not a obvious movement but he notices anyway. "mhmm i see. my poor wife. i will get uraume to tend to your injury. after you're done i excpect you to come find me and tell me how you're feeling."

there it is — his voice sounding strangely comforting for such a scary man — but there's nothing scary about the way he gets on his knees to tend to your injury, or his almost soft voice distracing you from the pain. and somehow, your cheeks getting warm from the intensity of it — the tone he's using usually reserved for the bedroom and yet — it has the same heat.

Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend

Part 1

The next few nights were busy. Not packed, but busy enough that you could lose yourself in the rhythm.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t busy enough to stop thinking about Sukuna. Every time the door swung open you were eager to look up; and even more disappointed when it wasn’t him.

“Think about it sweetheart.” You hated that those words had followed you. If you tried hard enough, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on yours.

The bell above the door chimed.

And there was your boyfriend, tipsy already, and it was barely 10pm.

A knot formed in your stomach.

“Hey babe,” he called loudly, stumbling slightly as he approached the bar.

Several customers glanced over. You forced a smile. “You’re drunk,” you whispered when he got closer.

He laughed. “Missed me?”

No. The thought came before you could stop it.

“I told you I was working.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His arm landed heavily on the counter.

You tried to keep him quiet for a while, and not disturb the rest of the customers.

———

Then his eyes shifted and he froze.

Sukuna happened to walk in twenty minutes after him. He took a seat three stools away, waving at you as he sat down.

Your boyfriend straightened. “Who’s this?”

You closed your eyes briefly.

Please don’t.

Sukuna calmly took a sip of the whiskey you just served him.

Nobody spoke. Nobody needed to.

“Oh.” Your boyfriend laughed humorlessly. “Oh, I get it.”

Sukuna didn’t react.

Your boyfriend pointed at him. “You’re the guy.”

“The guy?” Sukuna asked mildly.

“The guy trying to get with my girlfriend.”

Every muscle in your body tensed. “Stop. Please.”

Your boyfriend ignored you. “What, you think I haven’t noticed?”

Sukuna set his glass down slowly. “You’re making a scene.”

“You talking to my girl isn’t making a scene?”

“She’s working, I come here just for the booze buddy.”

You stepped forward. “Enough.”

But your boyfriend was already spiraling. The alcohol had taken control. “You think you’re better than me?”

Sukuna leaned back. “No.”

That somehow made him angrier. The bar had gone quiet, and customers were pretending not to stare.

Your face burned. Humiliation clawing at your skin.

“Come on then.” Your boyfriend stepped closer. “Let’s go outside.”

Sukuna sighed, like he was tired; like he didn’t feel threatened at all. “You’re drunk.”

“Says the guy sitting in a bar.”

“I’ve had one drink, unlike you.”

“You’re scared huh?”

“No.” The answer was immediate. “And I’m not fighting you.”

Your boyfriend shoved the edge of the bar, his glass rattling. You were frozen in fear and embarrassment.

“Hey.” Your coworker immediately appeared beside you. “That’s enough.”

Your boyfriend barely acknowledged him.

Big mistake.

Your coworker was six-foot-four and built like a fridge.

Sukuna stood. “Let’s go.”

Your boyfriend scoffed. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll embarrass her more than you already have,” he says nodding his head in your direction.

Silence.

Your boyfriend’s face twisted with disgust, and your stomach churned because you thought he was going to swing at Sukuna. It wouldn’t be the first time he got into a bar fight.

Instead Sukuna simply stepped beside him, and your coworker on the other. Together they guided him toward the door.

“Get off me!”

Nobody reacted.

“She’s my girlfriend! Babe say something—“

The words echoed through the bar; and you wished the floor would swallow you whole.

The bell chimed. And he was gone.

Customers quickly returned to their conversations and card games. The music seemed to play a little louder.

Life moved on.

But you couldn’t. You stared at the counter. At the glasses. At anything except the people around you.

Your eyes burned.

No. Not here.

The first tear slipped free. You immediately turned away. Mortified, because how could your life get any worse.

“Hey.” Sukuna’s voice was quieter now.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

Another tear followed. Then another.

God, you hated crying in front of people.

Your coworker squeezed your shoulder, “I’ve got the floor, take a break.”

You didn’t argue.

——-

A few minutes later you found yourself sitting on a crate outside the back of the bar, trying and failing to pull yourself together.

Footsteps approached you, but you didn’t look up, because you knew who it was.

Sukuna sat beside you, and neither of you spoke for a while.

You wiped angrily at your face. “This is so embarrassing,” you say first.

“No, you did good.”

“Everyone saw.”

“Nobody cares.”

“I care,” you blurted out, mascara stained your face now.

His expression softened, which made you look away. You felt guilty for seeking solace in a man who wasn’t your boyfriend.

“God this is hard.” The confession slipped out before you could stop it. “He’s changed so much.”

Sukuna stayed quiet.

“He was such a great guy,” your voice cracked. “I know that’s hard to believe.”

The air felt as though it had thickened.

“And now I spend more time making excuses for him than talking about him.”

Sukuna looked at the floor, then at you. “I know.”

Fresh tears welled up. “He made me look stupid. So freakin stupid.” The words came out small and broken.

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. “You don’t look stupid.”

“I stayed and I continue to stay.”

“You love him.”

You laughed bitterly. “Who knows anymore.”

Sukuna watched you for a long moment. Then gently handed you a napkin. “You remember what I said the other day?”

Your chest tightened. Of course you remembered. “Hmm. I remember.”

He nodded once. “I meant it.” His gaze never left yours. “But I already told you what I had to say.”

The breeze was warm, drying your tear-streaked cheeks. This felt too intimate.

“You have to make a decision now.” Not a demand, no pressure. Just the truth.

Your eyes dropped to your hands. “What if I make the wrong one?”

A painful smile appeared on Sukuna’s face. “You already know what the wrong decision looks like.”

The tears started again; you were just so exhausted. And before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him slightly.

Sukuna froze, then slowly rested an arm around your shoulders.

No flirting, no teasing, no smug grin. Just a shoulder to cry on.

———————————————————————————————

The last box was heavier than it looked.

“What’s even in this thing?” Sukuna asked, carrying it down the apartment stairs like it weighed nothing.

You huffed a laugh behind him. “Mostly books.”

“You’re telling me paper weighs this much?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” you smiled.

“I can read.”

“That’s not what I—”

Sukuna shot you a look over his shoulder, and for the first time in weeks, you laughed without feeling guilty afterward. The sound surprised you both.

————

The apartment was almost empty now.

Almost no framed photos on the walls. No more clothes hanging in the closet. No more reminders of all the years you’d spent trying to make something work.

The moving truck sat outside, half loaded.

Sukuna set the last box inside and dusted off his hands. “There.”

You looked back toward the building. It felt strange, you had imagined this moment so many times before. But now that you were finally doing it, it didn’t feel dramatic.

“You okay?” Sukuna asked. His voice was softer these days, but still blunt like always.

You nod, “Yeah, i think so.”

Sukuna leaned against the truck. Neither of you spoke for a moment. The spring breeze tugged at your hair.

For the first time in months, you didn’t feel like you were waiting for the next disaster to happen.

No angry texts, no drunken calls.

No wondering what mood your ex-boyfriend would be in when he got home.

The realization hit you so suddenly your eyes started watering. Again.

You laughed through it.

“Are you crying?”

“I’m not,” you said turning away from him.

“Come here,” he said gesturing to you to come closer.

You wiped at your eyes, “I’m emotional.”

“I know, I’m not judging. No need for explanations.”

Sukuna smirked. Then his expression softened. “You know,” he said, “you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

You looked away.

That was the problem. You’d spent years being strong, fixing problems, and making excuses. Carrying someone else’s weight because you thought that was what love was.

Love is patient.

Love is sacrifice.

Love is sticking it out.

Right?

But somewhere along the way you’d forgotten that love wasn’t supposed to hurt all the time.

Sukuna reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle it made your chest ache.

“You saved yourself,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“The restraining order. The breakup, the move. I’m so proud of you.”

“That was all you.” You smiled. “You did most of the heavy lifting, kinda like right now,” you gestured to the moving truck.

His red eyes met yours. Sukuna stepped closer. Just enough that you could feel his warmth. “But I couldn’t make the choice for you.”

You swallowed. He was right, he offered you a hand, a way out; but he never pushed.

The final decision had been yours.

Sukuna reached for your hand. Your fingers intertwined naturally now.

Although it was still fresh, you had decided on no promises or labels. One day at a time; and of course he was okay with that.

“What now?” You asked, while squeezing his hand.

Sukuna glanced toward the truck. “Now?”

A grin spread across his face. “We unpack six hundred pounds of books.”

You groaned.

sukuna chuckles, “Hey I already carried them.”

“You’re still helping me bring them in.”

Sukuna sighed dramatically. “See? This is how it starts.”

You laughed.

And as you climbed into the truck together, leaving the apartment behind for good, you realized for once, you were looking forward to what came next.

sukuna is not happy about piercing your daughters ears :c (reposted from mimuju! art by @/sgtbake_r on X)

"no. absolutely not. you're not touching her."

sukuna's voice is a low growl, his massive arms wrapped protectively around your toddler daughter in the piercing chair. the lady with the piercing gun pauses, eyes wide at the tattooed giant glaring daggers from his spot beside you. 

she's tiny, maybe 2, all chubby cheeks and wild pink hair like her dad's, dressed in a frilly dress you picked out for her "big girl day," complete with little mary janes. you've been hyping it up for weeks—tiny sparkly studs, nothing crazy, just simple diamonds to match her eyes. but sukuna? he's been grumbling since you suggested it, muttering about "barbaric customs" and "ruining perfection."

"baby, it's just earrings," you say softly, squeezing his knee under the counter. "she'll look so cute! and it'll heal fast. millions of girls get this done."

he shoots you a look, all four eyes narrowing under those sharp black brows. "she's a baby. babies don't need holes poked in their heads. what if it gets infected? what if she hates it?" but he doesn't move, holding her steady on his lap, her little hands clutching his black shirt, babbling happily at the shiny gun like it's a toy.

the piercing lady smiles nervously, gun ready, trying to lighten the mood. "it'll be quick, sir. one little pop on each side. she's been great so far."

sukuna huffs, his breath ruffling your daughter's hair, but he nods once, jaw clenched so tight you see the muscle tick. "fine. make it painless or i'll make you regret it. i am unlike my wife, i have no mercy for mortals."

you bite back a laugh, watching him brace like he's facing a battlefield. the lady counts down—three, two, one—and pops the first stud through your daughter's earlobe. instant wail. a piercing cry that echoes in the small shop, her face scrunching up beet red, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks, little legs kicking wildly.

sukuna freezes, body going rigid, then twitches like he's been shot himself. "what the fuck was that?!" he snarls, his free hand slamming the counter hard enough to make the jewelry displays rattle, tattoos rippling across his skin like living shadows. all four eyes lock on the lady like he's about to curse her into oblivion right there. "do that again and you're fucking dead, you hear me?"

the poor woman stammers, the cheap piericng gun trembling in her hands, face paling. "i-it's normal! just the shock! she's fine, look—the second one's done already, see?" she pops the other ear quick as lightning, and your daughter's tiny fists flailing at the air, her cries turning into quiet hiccups.

you can't help it—you burst out giggling, hand over your mouth, tears in your eyes from laughing. "kuna, oh my god— she's fine! look, sparkles already! she's got her earrings, see how pretty?"

he ignores you completely, scooping her up fully into his massive arms, cradling her against his broad chest like she's made of glass. his glare stays pinned on the lady for a long beat, utterly murderous, promising vengeance, before it softens instantly on his girl. 

"shh, shh, my little princess. daddy's got you. that mean lady's gone forever, i swear it." he rocks her gently side to side, his huge hand patting her back in slow circles, the other stroking her wild pink hair with surprising tenderness. her cries taper to sniffly hiccups, soothed by his deep rumble of a voice humming some ancient, gravelly lullaby from his cursed past, the kind only you know about.

you lean in, kissing his stubbled cheek, still chuckling softly. "she won't even remember this tomorrow. but you'll be telling the story for years, won't you, kuna?"

he grunts, still shooting one last glare over his shoulder at the lady as you pay and gather her things. "no more piercings. ever." but he presses a soft kiss to her tiny forehead, her sparkly new earrings catching the shop lights like stars, and you know he's already melting inside, utterly whipped for his perfect little girl.

sukuna had one arm draped over your shoulder, pulling you close to his side as you both stand outside the front door of his friends house.

tonight was the night you were going to meet his friends.

your nerves were through the roof, your hands were clammy and your stomach felt like you were on a roller coaster that was twisting, turning and looping voraciously.

you’ve never been good with… people. how you managed to pull sukuna is a mystery. you’re so shy that you practically border on recluse.

sukuna looks at your from the side of his eye. “relax, baby. they’ll like you.” he says, chuckling despite himself at your anxiety. “what if they don’t?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “then we’ll leave.” he shrugged. he banged on the door again. “open the fuckin door.” he says impatiently but with no real anger behind it.

the door swings open and reveals one of his friends, satoru; standing there with a stupid grin. “yo, suks’.” he daps sukuna up. they say their greetings until his eyes land on you. “who’s this?” he asks, his tone lowering and becoming dismissive. you looked up at sukuna, expecting him to answer for you, he just raises one eyebrow, signalling for you to introduce yourself on your own. “i—uh… i’m [name]. sukunas girlfriend..” you mumble, your eyes darting around nervously. his friends eyes scan you up and down critically. “yeah… okay.. m’satoru.” he says quickly. sukunas eyes narrow at the dismissive body language and tone. he noticed it, of course he did. but decided to see how far satoru would push.

satoru leads the two of you inside his house where there are already some people sitting down on the couches. your fingers stays intertwined with sukunas’ the entire time, sukuna finds an empty spot on the couch and sits down, pulling you down with him.

your knee bounces nervously, sukuna puts his large hand over it whilst focusing on the conversation his friends are having. he offered a small smirk as quiet reassurance that it’s okay.

or so you thought????

you stayed quiet in the conversation majority of the time until one of the others guys, suguru, looks at you and decided to talk to you. “so… you’re [name], right? sukunas new girlfriend?” his tone was almost… condescending? but you couldn’t tell if that was just your nerves making you think that. “yeah..” you nodded, giving a small smile. he pauses and eyes you down the same way satoru did before, his eyes filled with judgement. “right.. right.” he looks away.

the rest of the time went by slowly, you stayed quiet majority of the time. until a topic of conversation got brought up about hobbies. one of the hobbies that you took part in got brought up. sukuna nudges you. “yknow.. my girlfriend loves art, don’t you?” he wraps an arm around your waist. “u-uh.. yeah, i paint ‘n.. stuff.” you said shyly. satoru glances at you for a second then at suguru and bursts into laughter. “seriously, who even is this bitch?” satoru gasps out through laughter. your face burns with embarassment, sukunas gentle strokes on your hip paused. “the fuck did you just say?” he removed his arm from you completely and stood up to slowly walk to satoru. towering over him. satoru was carelessly manspread on the couch, holding a can of bear. “what? she just waltzes in here, sits there all quiet, she’s— she’s literally taking up space! why would you even invite her if she’s gonna be boring? she’s not even that hot either!” satoru laughs at his own mean commentary, suguru follows along with his wheezes of laughter.

before satoru can say anything else, sukunas fist was already wound up and crashing down on his face. his whole body snapping to the side as well as his head, the sheer strength of the bunch sent him on the plush carpet of his lavish house. “say it again. i fucking dare you.” his voice a low growl. sugurus laughter was sharply cut off, he sat there frozen in shock. these six-foot-something guys were shit scared of sukuna who was literally in the same height and weight range as them. satoru spat out the blood that was dripping out his mouth. “it was just a joke..” satorus voice was strained. he held his jaw with one hand and cowardly looked away from sukuna. “apologise. the two of you. apologise to my fuckin girlfriend.” your eyes widened. sukuna drags satoru up by his collar and drags him to your feet. “i-i’m.. so sorry, i’ll never say that again. i didn’t mean it.” he babbled on and on. the other friends that were previously attending this hangout were sitting there stunned. suguru sat there wide eyed before apologising to you frantically as to not be next. you waved them off shyly. “i-it’s okay. really, it’s fine.”

you looked up at sukuna, he immediately sensed your discomfort and lingering mortification. “let’s just fucking go.” he grabbed your arm; the veins on his temples popping out from suppressed rage.

“i should’ve done more to those fuckers.” he hissed, turning on the engine. “kuna’, it’s okay..” you put a hand on his shoulder. he turned his head to look at you and his eyes softened. his anger seemed to slowly fade away. “i’m never talking to them again, im blocking them as soon as we get home, i hate them, how dare they talk to my girlf—“ you cut his oncoming rant off. “sukuna,” you said softly, offering him a small smile, “it’s okay. i promise.” you kissed his cheek. he sighed heavily. “alright… they didn’t upset you too much, did they?” he asked roughly, you could tell he was a little bit worried.

you huffed a small laugh. “i’m okay, sukuna.”

𝓡.𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀ᅠ ͏͏ ͏͏ 🌷♡ ͏͏ᅠ ͏͏ ͏refuses to hold your baby

♡. 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓫. heian!sukuna :: slight angst :: fluff

"Do not bring that thing near me."

"This thing is your daughter."

The King of Curses sat upon his throne, and yet you had no issue glaring up at him. As if it were your stare that could cleave. Your hands that could ignite his shrine into blitz and ember.

Bundled in a silk blanket and babbling up at you with eyes as ruby as her father's, your daughter chewed on her thumb. Blissfully oblivious to the tyrant from which she came.

Sukuna refused to hold her.

It was subtle, at first. When she was born, he claimed that it was vital for a baby to stay close to its mother. For warmth, food and comfort.

It had been four weeks, and your husband hadn't so much as grazed her tiny pinkie.

"Why?" You asked, anger blooming in your throat like the flowers he had planted in the gardens for you. He would sully his knees in the soil and his hands in the mud for your benefit, but couldn't bear to hold the life that he had created?

Sukuna's face was hard in a scowl. Each maroon eye glaring into your soul.

A beat of silence.

"I do not want to."

You flared, clinging your baby closer. "Are you ashamed? Ashamed of the life we created?"

"No, damnit woman—"

"Then why!?"

"Because I will mar her!"

The shrine shook as he shoved himself out of his throne. Standing now. It was at his full height that you recognised the being thousands feared. Four arms, two faces, and a stature that rose from hell.

His glare burned, but it wasn't anger. Face twisted in an emotion you hadn't seen enough from him.

"I will— hurt her. Is that what you want?"

Vulnerability.

Your daughter startled. Sniffling at the booming voice that rattled the floors. You watched her face squish and her lip quiver, before a broken, hiccuped sob filled the air.

His shoulders sunk. The fight seeping out of him. You watched his eyes swell with many things you'd never seen before.

Guilt, sadness.

Fear.

Rocking your startled baby, you held her close with soft shushes, but her sniffles soon turned into wails. Sukuna's stood frozen, sullen.

You understood, now.

Cradling the small girl, you stepped forward. Up the stairs to the platform of his throne. Even as he took a step back, you persisted.

"Sukuna. . ." You called to him. Soft in the way that only you were capable of being with him.

He almost flinched.

"This child, she's ours. Our daughter, made with love."

You stood right in front of him now. Taking in his wound up muscles and squared shoulders. Looking more like a deer ready to sprint than a father.

A father who feared that his hands were too rough, too evil, to nurture his own child.

"You won't hurt her. Because she's ours." Reaching forward, you held out the sobbing bundle. Watching his face and the several shades of uncertainty it turned.

You had never seen him so. . . frightened.

You pushed past his hesitancy, carefully placing your daughter into a set of his hulking arms. She was tiny compared to him. Seemed he was processing that too.

Aiding his position, you slipped one of your hands to tenderly hold him by the bicep as he, for the first time ever, held his daughter.

His breath was hitched. All of his eyes gaping at the small bundle in his arms. Watching her as if she were the most delicate piece of porcelain.

Your daughter's sobs stirred into sniffles, then hiccups, until. . . silence.

As big, ruby eyes stared up at her father. Taking him in. His face, his warmth.

And then, she beamed a toothless smile.

Sukuna tensed. A shaky breath hitching.

"She's— she's smiling. Why is she smiling?"

He quickly looked to you. Brows pinched. Looking lost, looking scared.

You offered him a smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Because she knows that her father loves her." Tickling her neck, you hummed as she squirmed a bit and giggled, pressing more into him.

He instinctively held her closer. Eyes unblinking.

You watched as Ryomen Sukuna, The King of Curses, melted. His heart swelling as he stared at his daughter. Even bringing one of his fingers closer to her, so that she could grab at it. Hugging around it with that big, bring smile.

His mouth quirked at the corner. Faint, but tender.

"Yeah. . ." He whispered, voice thick with emotion. Centuries worth of affection for his child, his daughter.

"Your father loves you. More than anything. More than life."

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cheriisoda. art cred: @/lacquerheadd