smau: the jjk men find your sketchbook with only drawings of him

main: @flvvffy

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

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

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.