artemis ⋆˚꩜｡

── ⋅˚₊‧ଳ‧₊˚⋅ᝰ.ᐟ Gojo Satoru playing the guitar for his daughter because she’s his biggest fan.

“Dada! Dada!” gargled your daughter as she stumbled towards Satoru, who’s holding his guitar on his lap, a cloth in hand as he gently wipes off any dirt on it. He decided he’d clean it but it seems like in his daughter’s eyes, it’s a sign that it’s time for song time with her daddy.

“Princess?” He responds as he places the cloth down to look at her, she’s staring up at him with big doe eyes that were filled with utter awe for her father. She stomps for her feet on the ground and clapped her hands together, “Are you playing?” She asks excitedly as she flaps her arms around and Satoru lets out a playful scoff as if the question was stupid before adjusting his guitar properly, “Ofcourse daddy’s playing,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

Your daughter lights up as she sits down on the floor and looks up at her dad, he laughs and gently pats the space next to him, “nah, you can’t sit on the floor, come sit next to me on the couch,” and ofcourse without any hesitation she got up and climbed on couch to sit next to him, her legs crisscrossing as she patiently waited for her dad to play a song for her.

Satoru adjusts his guitar in his lap as he starts to play and his daughter immediately lights up as she sways without a care. Satoru doesn’t think she cares about the song, she just likes seeing her dad play the guitar and his probably.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟’𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 | 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

𝑷𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅: 06/05/2026

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.0k

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: Hello anon!! THANK YOU SO MUCH for this Chrollo request!!! I've had an idea for a fic like this for ages, but thanks to you, I finally got the inspiration I needed. Have I mentioned how much I love writing for Chrollo?? Sometimes I even cry, lol. Honestly, this scenario reminded me a bit of a one-shot where Chrollo is a family man to a little boy, and their son finds a rare spider in his room right next to his teddy bear "Brollo". I swear I still love that shot to this day. Anyway, I hope my writing was close to what you were looking for. Happy reading, everyone! :-)

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑵𝒐𝒏𝒆! (𝑵𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒆, 𝒏𝒐 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒏𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔).

══════════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════════

The sound of heavy rain drumming against the tall windowpanes was the only noise that dared to break the stillness of the night. Hidden beneath the shelter of a dense, isolated forest, far from the spotlight and the chaos of major metropolises, sat the house. It wasn't a temporary, cold safehouse for the Troupe, but a home. Every single detail of that space had been meticulously planned and decorated by Chrollo. It was the cozy refuge he had secretly dreamed of when he was just a barefoot boy sleeping among rags and scrap metal in Meteor City. There were heavy, dark tapestries covering the floors, solid wood furniture that exhaled a faint scent of varnish, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves overflowing with antique, leather-bound books. A sanctuary of knowledge and comfort that he had built, above all, to protect his greatest treasure.

On that rainy night, Chrollo sat in a time-worn velvet armchair beneath the soft, golden light of a reading lamp. Without his iconic leather coat with the St. Peter’s cross and without the white bandage on his forehead, he looked strikingly disarmed. He wore only dark sweatpants and a gray knit sweater with the sleeves pulled slightly up his forearms. His black hair, free of gel, fell in soft, rebellious strands over his eyes. He flipped through the pages of an ancient tome with an almost hypnotic tranquility.

A soft rustle coming from the hallway—decorated with pastel wallpapers and small, playful paintings—caught his attention.

Small, hesitant footsteps echoed against the rug. Standing in the archway of the living room, dragging a fluffy pink blanket across the floor, was your five-year-old daughter. She wore adorable flannel pajamas patterned with little bears. Her resemblance to her father was breathtaking: the same straight black hair, the pale skin, and, above all, those round, deep, dark eyes that looked like two shiny black cherries. Seeing his own image reflected in such a pure, innocent little creature made Chrollo the most doting, whipped father in the world, even if he maintained his usually serene composure.

Chrollo closed the book without haste, the muffled thud of the pages joining the rhythm of the rain. He extended his free arm, offering a silent invitation.

— Still awake, my little star? — his voice echoed low, musical, and hypnotic—the exact same calm tone he used to dictate orders to the Troupe, but now filled with an infinite sweetness. — What's wrong?

The little girl rushed toward the armchair, scrambling up the upholstery with a pouting lip until she settled into her father's warm lap. She buried her face in his knit chest before whispering:

— I had a bad dream, Daddy... The trash monster was chasing me in the dark. I called for you and Mommy, but the wind was too loud and you couldn't hear me.

Chrollo’s chest tightened slightly. He wrapped his long arms around her, pulling the blanket up to cover her small back and pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head. That description touched an old, invisible wound in his mind. The "trash monster" and the "silence" were the very real ghosts of his own childhood in Meteor City. He instantly remembered an old VHS tape, salvaged from the debris decades ago, which he used to clean and play on an old TV to dub and translate the lines for the other children... long before the disaster with Sarasa shattered everyone's innocence and gave rise to the Spider.

Chrollo spoiled her threefold for that very reason. He had sworn to himself that his daughter would never know what it felt like to be hungry, cold, or forgotten by the rest of the world. She would never be a victim.

Pushing the dark thoughts away with a subtle, comforting smile, he caressed the girl's soft cheek.

— The monster cannot come inside here, I promise. How about we watch a movie to scare that bad dream away? — he suggested, his dark eyes gleaming with deep affection.

The girl raised her head quickly, her eyes bright with joy.

— A movie? Yes, please!

Chrollo adjusted her in his lap and picked up the remote, navigating through the options until he selected the classic animation Tarzan—one of the movies he had watched many years ago with you, Y/N. Back then, the two of you would spend hours hunting for old tapes discarded by the outside world; relics that the elite of major metropolises threw into the trash when the casings grew moldy, scratched, or when they simply upgraded to newer technology. To the rest of the world, they were useless debris shipped off to the dumpsites of Meteor City, but to you and Chrollo, wiping the dust off those black plastic cartridges and rewinding the magnetic tape with an old pen felt like unearthing a treasure. It was your only window into a universe filled with color and stories.

As the movie went on, the room was flooded with nostalgia. Chrollo kept his daughter pressed close to his chest, his long fingers tracing calm patterns through her hair, acting as her shield against any storm. However, as the narrative progressed and reached the iconic scene where the mother gorilla, Kala, rescues baby Tarzan and holds him tightly against her chest to protect him, the domestic sanctuary seemed to fall silent. The soft, welcoming chords of You'll Be in My Heart began to echo through the space.

Chrollo paid close attention to the screen. That image of a mother adopting a helpless child in the midst of danger, and the lyrics promising absolute protection, struck the leader of the Spider deeply. He looked down at the little girl in his lap, who was watching the scene with wide, shining eyes, completely absorbed by the melody. There was a profound, mutual connection there: to that little girl, Chrollo's chest was the safest place in the universe, and to him, that little spider represented the purity he would defend with his very life. The comfort of the song and the warmth of her father's embrace left the girl overflowing with genuine happiness, completely banishing any lingering trace of her nightmare.

The gentle scent of soap and the warmth of your recent shower accompanied your silent footsteps as you walked into the living room. Standing by the archway of the door, drying your hair with a towel, you paused to watch the scene. The glow from the TV illuminated the faces of Chrollo and your daughter, who was already starting to doze off, yielding to her exhaustion. Recognizing the chords of Tarzan echoing softly through the room, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. You shook your head, overcome by a warm, affectionate feeling. Of course he would choose a movie from your youth. Chrollo had this incurable, lovely habit of wanting to show their little spider how everything from their childhood—even the simplest things salvaged from the trash—was better.

Sensing your presence in the room with that sharp perception that never left him, Chrollo raised his eyes from the screen. When they met yours, his lips curved into that subtle, private, complicit smile that belonged solely and exclusively to you. They didn't need words; an entire conversation was transmitted in that single look over the little girl's head.

You walked slowly toward the armchair, and Chrollo didn't hesitate. He extended his free arm, wrapping it firmly around your waist and pulling you close, guiding you to sit on the wide armrest of the chair. Before you could say anything, he leaned up and sealed your lips in a passionate, deep, and calm kiss—one that carried the profound relief of someone who had finally found their safe haven after a long journey.

— She insisted on staying up because of a bad dream, — he whispered against your lips, his voice like a warm breath. — But the music did its job.

— And you used our childhood as an anesthesia, — you replied in the same whispered tone, caressing the rebellious strands of his hair. — It’s strange, isn't it? Looking at all of this... having a real home. It’s wonderful, but sometimes it feels like a dream too good to be true.

— The outside world can label us as the monsters of the Gen'ei Ryodan, — he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an overwhelming intensity. — But inside here, within these walls... you and she are my only truth. You are my safe haven, Y/N.

As the movie's melody continued in the background, your words caused Chrollo’s mind to travel back in time, transporting him to the exact moment their destiny had changed forever. He remembered every detail, even the exact hours on the base's old wall clock. It was ten in the evening on a gray Tuesday when you, with trembling hands, handed him the results of that makeshift test. They were in their early twenties—two young adults raised in the hell of Meteor City, masters in the art of stealing and killing, but completely clueless on how to handle maternal matters.

The revelation had been a staggering shock. Chrollo, the man who never lost his composure, had frozen for several long seconds, staring at your stomach as if trying to decipher the most complex mystery in the universe. The rest of the Troupe, gathered in the main room, reacted chaotically. Feitan let out a grumble in his native tongue, crossing his arms, genuinely confused about how a baby would survive among assassins. Phinks burst into a loud laugh, slapping a still-shocked Chrollo on the back, while Shalnark frantically began searching his phone for "how to care for newborns." Pakunoda, however, simply walked over to you with a rare, welcoming smile, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder—a silent promise of protection.

The beginning wasn't easy, but Meteor City, with all its scars, ended up being their ultimate support system. Thanks to a local support group that aided underprivileged pregnant women, especially young teenagers from the area, you learned the first steps of motherhood. Chrollo insisted that you stay on absolute bed rest there, but under conditions no other woman in that city had ever experienced. For months, the Troupe focused their missions on plundering top-tier medical supplies, imported vitamins, designer baby clothes, and the highest quality food, shipping most of it back into the dumpsites of Meteor City just to supply the local clinic and ensure that you, and the population, had the absolute best.

Back in the present, Chrollo gently squeezed your waist, pulling you back into the warmth of his embrace. The leader of the Spider looked at the two women in his life, knowing that every bit of that chaotic journey had been entirely worth it.

The location of that home was an absolute secret, buried deep and heavily guarded beneath the earth. The house was camouflaged on the outskirts of a densely forested, mountainous region, built atop an old, fortified underground military installation. To the outside world, it was nothing but untouched wilderness; inside, it was a self-sustaining luxury bunker with heavy-artillery plating and complete acoustic insulation. The technological security was flawless, entirely designed by Shalnark. The perimeter was equipped with hidden Nen sensors, thermal cameras invisible to the naked eye, and state-of-the-art alarms linked directly to his computer. Not even the rest of the world, the Hunter Association, or treacherous figures like Hisoka had the slightest inkling that this sanctuary existed. For all intents and purposes, you and Chrollo vanished from the map the moment you crossed that threshold.

Suddenly, a quiet, double beep echoed from the built-in panel near the front door, accompanied by a green light that blinked three times. It was the coded signal that authorized members of the Spider were in the drop zone of the covered porch.

Chrollo didn’t even need to stand up. He simply tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes narrowing. In the blink of an eye, the doting-father aura vanished. The transition was surgical, cold, and mathematical; his gaze turned sharp, instantly calculating the variables of this after-hours visit. He carefully adjusted his sleeping daughter into your arms and walked to the entrance with footsteps that didn't make the slightest sound against the wood.

As he opened the heavy security door, the cool night breeze brought in the figures of Phinks and Feitan, wearing their wet raincoats. Shalnark wasn't physically there, but his voice echoed through the small wrist communicator Phinks carried.

— Hey, boss! Sorry about the hour, — Shalnark’s voice sounded cheerful through the speaker. — The system is 100% clean, no tracks left behind on the way here. We just came to drop off the report for the next Mafia movement in Yorknew and... well, the little princess's gift.

Phinks stepped forward with a smirk, handing over a sealed manila envelope containing the confidential intel. Right after, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a heavy object wrapped in dark velvet. Unfolding the fabric, he revealed an antique dagger with a solid gold hilt encrusted with blood rubies and a terrifyingly sharp, custom blade—a relic plundered from a recent underground auction.

— Courtesy of me and Feitan, — Phinks said, proud of the valuable yet utterly inappropriate artifact for a five-year-old child. — So she can start practicing her grip. The balance on this blade is perfect.

Feitan, with half of his face covered by his high collar, let out a low, raspy chuckle.

— Girl needs to know how to cut... if she wants to be a true Spider.

Chrollo took the envelope with the tactical report and then the dangerous dagger. His mind processed the historical and lethal value of the object in seconds. But the moment he looked back inside the warm living room, where you held the softly snoring little girl, all the coldness of the Ryodan's leader dissipated like smoke. His expression softened touchingly.

— Thank you for the report. And for the... effort with the gift, — Chrollo replied in his low, pristine tone, keeping the dagger firmly enclosed in his hand up high, far out of reach of any child. — But she will stick to practicing with crayons for now.

Phinks let out a muffled laugh, shaking his head, while Feitan merely shrugged, turning his back to fade into the darkness of the forest.

— You guys are unbelievable, — you whispered from the living room, watching the scene from afar with a smirk.

Chrollo closed the security door and engaged the armored deadbolts. He walked over to a high, key-locked drawer at the very top of the bookshelf, storing the deadly dagger and the strategic report where his daughter would never find them. Stepping back toward you, Chrollo the father took the reins once more, leaving the danger of the outside world on the other side of the lock.

The little girl's bedroom was bathed in a cozy twilight, illuminated only by the soft glow of a star-shaped nightlight. With millimetrically silent steps, you approached the bed and laid your little spider down onto the soft sheets. You leaned down slowly, tucking the bear-patterned blankets around her small body, and pressed a tender kiss to her warm forehead. She let out a deep sigh, finally surrendered to a dreamless sleep. Chrollo watched everything from the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze overflowing with a sense of peace he had never found anywhere else in the world.

Later, as the silence of the deep night settled in, the two of you finally retreated to the bedroom you shared. Wrapped beneath the heavy sheets with the lights completely out—leaving only the sound of the rain outside as your soundtrack—you began your nightly ritual: talking in low whispers, sharing your deepest thoughts before drifting off to sleep.

Chrollo lay on his side, his face propped up by one hand, watching your features in the darkness. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, his voice came as a philosophical murmur, so distinctly his style.

— You know, Y/N... The Phantom Troupe spends a lifetime crossing continents to steal everything the elite considers valuable. We empty vaults, seize priceless relics, and bring entire mafias to their knees. But the truth is, my most precious treasure isn't locked away in any bank in the world.

You couldn't stop a teasing smile from spreading across your lips. Letting out a soft, muffled chuckle in the dark, you gently poked his chest.

— Chrollo... That is so cliché! Who would have thought the ruthless leader of the Ryodan was capable of such a cheesy romantic line?

Chrollo let out a low, husky, and infectious laugh, the sound vibrating against his chest. He didn't deny it. Instead, he moved even closer, his long hand sliding up the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he locked those deep, dark eyes onto yours. He closed the remaining distance and kissed you—a deep, slow, and overwhelming kiss that blended the calm of your home with the fiery passion that had always bound you together.

When his lips finally parted from yours, he kept his face buried against your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your skin. His voice shifted, losing its playful edge and taking on a possessive, cold, and deadly seriousness.

— It might be a cliché... but it is my absolute reality. The world outside can burn to the ground if it ever tries to come near either of you. I would destroy every nation, hunt down every man, and reduce this planet to ashes before I ever let anyone touch my family.

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

syn. you broke up two weeks ago... but you aren't quite done with megumi yet!

cw/tags. college/aged up megumi, he's mean, exes to lovers, kinda toxic? ANGST, jealousy, reader constantly provokes him ect. dirty/suggestive humour.

-> 1.7k words

three days had passed since the dog-walking incident. three days of absolutely no progress.

which meant it was time to move onto the next part of phase two.

phase one had been kamo. get megumi jealous. make him realise that other people could have you if he kept being stupid.

spectacular execution, and even better results, if you did say so yourself.

phase two was much more sophisticated.

୧ ‧₊˚ 𝐁𝐎𝐗𝐄𝐑 𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 and his very fragile girlfriend... ⋅ ✰

everyone fears the monster satoru gojo is in the boxing ring. no one sees how gently he holds the girl he loves.

MDNI ✰ nsfw headcanons below the 18+ divider ✰ overall, very fluffy

art creds to @/thatsallitchief. all dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/pixopix

a/n :: this might not be relatable for everyone, but i made the reader deeply empathetic and prone to bruising because i am too 🙂‍↕️♡ hope you enjoy

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა is incredibly gentle with you from the very beginning. He knows how easily you bruise, so even when he pulls you into a hug after a long day, he wraps his arms around you like you’re made of glass. His large hands rest feather-light on your back, and he always checks your expression first to make sure he hasn’t accidentally squeezed too hard.

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა never lets you near the boxing gym during heavy sparring sessions. The sound of gloves hitting pads and the raw aggression in the air overwhelm your senses, so he sets up a small quiet corner in the back office with noise-canceling headphones, your favorite blanket and a book for the rare times you want to visit.

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა After every fight, no matter how exhausted or banged up he is, Gojo comes straight to you. He lets you fuss over his split lip or bruised ribs while he melts under your soft touch. The empath in you lets you feel how much the violence weighs on him, so he finds peace when you quietly hold his hand and let him decompress in your calm presence.

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა banned himself from giving you playful punches or even light taps. One time he jokingly poked your arm and a faint bruise appeared the next day. He felt so guilty he bought you a ridiculous amount of arnica cream and swore he’d never do it again, even for fun.

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა loves showing you his training routines but always tones down the intensity. Instead of full-power punches, he’ll demonstrate slow-motion technique so you can see the beauty and discipline in boxing rather than the violence. Your quiet admiration makes him train even harder when you’re not around.

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა keeps a secret stash of your favorite snacks in his gym bag. After rough training days, he’ll come home and present them like trophies, knowing physical gifts help when words feel too heavy for your sensitive heart.

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა is very aware that his post-fight adrenaline can be intense, so he always takes a few minutes alone to cool down before seeing you. He doesn’t want his heightened emotions to bleed into you and cause you discomfort.

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა Your nature actually helps him outside the ring. Before big matches, he’ll seek you out just to sit quietly with you because your peaceful energy helps him regulate the chaos in his own head. You’ve become his good-luck charm in the most gentle way possible.

૮₍ boxerjo ⑅₎ა secretly loves when you trace his scars and calluses with careful fingers. You never flinch from the evidence of his violent profession, and instead offer quiet acceptance. It makes him feel truly seen beyond being “the strongest boxer.”

hi everyone, some of you may have seen my old comm post, but it was accidentally deleted, so here’s my new one.

i’m coming on here to say that some really unfortunate things have happened. i found myself in an abusive living situation with my aunt in a completely different state, where she was the only person i knew. she took all of my money, overworked me, and forced her responsibilities onto me cleaning her entire house and caring for her child all while i was working 10–12 hour shifts every day, not including the hour it took me to walk to and from work. there were also times she purposely sabotaged my job and made me late so i could take care of her child. every day i came home and had to clean everything, including the messes her child had made. i was verbally abused and belittled by her and her husband daily. she even allowed her husband to throw things at me, and attempt to hit me. i won’t go into further detail other than to say i was eventually kicked out and left homeless with no money. she took hundreds of dollars from me every single week, so i wasn’t able to save anything. on top of everything else, i was completely exhausted.

i’m now back in my home state, while i do have a place to stay my living situation isn’t ideal, and i don’t have a strong support system. i’m actively searching for a job but haven’t had any luck yet. it’s especially difficult since i don’t have reliable transportation and can’t drive. i grew up in an abusive family, and my aunt’s husband was supposed to help me learn, but instead they only wanted to take my money and make me do their responsibilities for them.

right now, i have very limited resources and support, and i’m doing my best to get through each day while also dealing with declining mental health because of everything that’s happened. i’ve struggled with serious mental health issues that have impacted my entire life, and coping with them alongside all of this has made this time especially hard. i’m trying to move forward, but it’s difficult given my circumstances.

with all of that said, my commissions are open. these are emergency commissions so i can somewhat support myself, as finding a job right now is extremely difficult and this is currently my only source of income.

if you’re able to send anything during this time, it would help more than i can put into words. here is my ko-fi if you’d like to send any tips or donations to support me and my work.

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You don’t even notice when he slips out onto the balcony.

You’re too busy curled up on his bed, scrolling mindlessly, one of his hoodies drowning you, sleeves covering your hands. The door’s cracked open just enough to let the night air in, cool and soft, and there’s that faint smell you always associate with him. Smoke.

You wrinkle your nose a little. “Gross,” you mutter to yourself, even though he’s not in the room to hear it.

A minute later, the door slides open properly. Sukuna steps back in like nothing happened, hair a little messy from the breeze, shirt hanging loose, cigarette already gone. He looks at you sprawled across his bed and just… pauses for a second. Like he always does.

“You’re gonna wreck the sleeves,” he says, nodding at his hoodie, eyes flicking to the way you absentmindedly pick at the loose threads.

You don’t even look up. “Good. Then you can’t take it back.”

He huffs, low and amused, walking over. “Wasn’t planning to.”

You finally glance at him. He’s standing right at the edge of the bed now, looking down at you with that same lazy expression, but there’s something a little softer underneath it.

“You smell,” you say bluntly.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning closer.

“Like cigarettes,” you add, scrunching your nose. “It’s ugly.”

“Ugly,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word.

you were way too drunk and the sigma chi house was spinning.

the music thumped through the walls and your head felt light and fuzzy, but you were smiling anyway, red cup dangling from your fingers as you leaned against the wall for balance. your friends had disappeared ages ago and you didn’t really mind.

that’s when you saw him.

tall. pink hair. tattoos crawling up his arms. he looked really familiar but your drunk brain couldn’t connect the dots. you just knew he was stupidly hot standing there by the stairs with his arms crossed.

you stumbled over with a bright smile.

“hi,” you said, voice soft and sweet. “you have the prettiest eyes. like… scary pretty.”

sukuna looked down at you and his eyebrow raised, but he didn’t move away. the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

“yeah?” he asked, voice low.

you nodded, stepping closer until you were leaning into his space. he smelled so good. warm and a little sweet, just like someone you used to know.

“mhm. my ex had eyes like yours,” you mumbled, resting your forehead against his arm because the room wouldn’t stop tilting. “he was mean looking but really nice to me. i miss him a lot actually.”

sukuna stayed quiet, one big hand coming up to steady you by the waist so you wouldn’t fall.

you kept talking, words spilling out easily now that someone was listening.

“we broke up because i thought he didn’t care enough but… he used to do the sweetest things. like bringing me coffee before class or letting me play with his hair even when he acted all tough about it.” you sighed softly. “i think i messed up. i still wear his hoodie to sleep sometimes.”

his grip on your waist tightened just a little.

“you’re drunk,” he murmured.

“super drunk,” you agreed with a little laugh, tilting your head up to look at him again. “but i mean it. he was the best. made me feel safe even when he was quiet and scary. you kinda look like him, it’s weird.”

sukuna let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a laugh. he guided you through the crowd with a hand on your lower back, taking you upstairs without saying much. you didn’t even question it. his room felt familiar but everything was blurry.

he sat you on the edge of his bed and grabbed a bottle of water, crouching down in front of you so you could drink it. his hand rested gently on your knee the whole time.

“you’re really nice,” you whispered, eyes half closed. “my ex was nice like this too. when nobody else was looking.”

he didn’t answer right away. just brushed some hair out of your face with careful fingers and helped you lie down. when you reached out and grabbed his hand he paused.

“stay?” you asked softly.

sukuna sighed, but it was the soft kind. he sat on the edge of the bed and let you keep holding his hand, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knuckles while you drifted off.

Leaving the bathroom, you hummed a quiet tune as you headed to your bedroom to find your boyfriend on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He perked up at the sound of your footsteps, his shoulders instantly relaxing at the sight of you clad in your soft pajamas. Immediately, he placed his phone by the bedside table and shifted a little to create a little more space for you.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, but the faint amused smile failed to conceal his affection.

Giggling, you dove for the bed, instantly going inside the soft blankets to curl beside him. you sighed, content, as you lazily wrapped your arms around his broad chest, nuzzling your cheek against his bicep. In return, he cuddled back, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame to gently cradle you.

“Night, kuna,” you murmured, as per ritual, closing your eyes.

There was a pause. Then complete silence. 

It made your brows furrow, since he usually gave you a groggy reply. Opening your eyes curiously, you saw his eyes stare back at you, slightly narrowed and lips faintly tugged down into a petulant pouting frown. faint, but definitely there.

“What? What’s wrong?” you asked gently, slightly concerned as you stared up at him with those sweet, pretty eyes. 

Sukuna’s brows furrowed a little more, a habit that he had when he was trying to comprehend how you could be so cute, but that was not the point at the moment—because his pout tugged a little deeper to form a deeper frown.

“…”

You raised a brow.

“…” Sukuna huffed, looking away for a moment, ears burning in a cute pink. “…nothing.”

“It’s not nothing though!” you whined, grinning at the sight of his adorable pink ears. “Tell me, tell me!”

Sukuna made a show of frowning a little more before you heard a snippet of what he was saying, incoherent.

“Huh?”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you before muttering it out again, “You didn’t …ive me a …night……”

You blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t give me a good night’s kiss!” he grumbled out finally, quickly, loudly giving you an irritated tsk as he looked away to hide his blush.

You stared at him, slightly dumbfounded before laughing warmly. “Aww! Kuna!”

Without wasting a time, you cradled his face to tilt him so that he was looking at you before giving him a soft kiss on his lips, smiling against his plush skin. Sukuna hummed in tender satisfaction as he held onto you a little more tighter, caressing the delicate curve of your hip.

After a moment, you pulled away to smile up at him, slightly teasing. “You know you could always initiate the kiss.”

Sukuna gave you a shrug as though trying to hide his previous humiliating admission. “You always kiss me good night first.”

You giggled, pecking his lips. “You’re so spoiled.”

“Brat,” he grumbled, before he abruptly pulled you closer to him, and laid the both of you down on the bed, burrowing his face into your neck. “Go to sleep already.”

“Good night, Kuna,” you replied back once more with a butterfly-fluttering, warm laugh, kissing his shoulder. “I love you…”

"I love you too.”

all works in this series describe moments from different stages of your relationship with Sukuna. while they can generally be read in any order, the mini-series work best when read sequentially.

content: modern au, sukuna x f!reader, husband!sukuna, gamer!sukuna, soft!sukuna, fluff, slice-of-life, crack, slow moments, married chaos, married stupidity, the whole friend group is here too

main masterlist ◦ ao3

𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗

⪼ skincare   Sukuna lets you drag him into your skincare routine ◦ fluff ⪼ your eating habits   fluff ⪼ you feel like picking a fight   chaos, relationship stupidity, petty argument, comfort

𝗛𝗨𝗦𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗗

⪼ gamer!Sukuna mini-series   ⪼ part 1 ◦ Sukuna wants you in his space ◦ fluff   ⪼ part 2 ◦ Sukuna teaches you things ◦ fluff   ⪼ part 3 ◦ Sukuna shuts things down before you ever have to ask ◦ fluff   ⪼ part 4 ◦ Sukuna tries something new just to share it with you ◦ fluff ⪼ drunk!Sukuna mini-series   ⪼ he fixates on a very important question for his wife     crack, fluff   ⪼ he decides to remind his wife exactly who she married     crack, fluff   ⪼ he becomes convinced something is wrong with his tattoos     crack   ⪼ he makes it very clear he's taken ◦ coming soon     crack, fluff ⪼ his favourite sound ◦ the alternative ending   muscles, flexing and giggles ◦ fluff ⪼ his favourite animal is his wife when she's drunk   crack, fluff ⪼ how one huge piece of furniture mysteriously appeared in your apartment   read gamer!Sukuna part 1 first ◦ crack, fluff ⪼ hear me out cake   crack, fluff ⪼ you pretend to give Sukuna the silent treatment   crack, fluff ⪼ valentine's day   fluff, crack ⪼ Sukuna gets hit on while you're busy befriending a stray cat   fluff ⪼ you call Sukuna mid-ranked and it turns out he has softer setting just for you   gamer!Sukuna ft Gojo ◦ fluff, crack ⪼ you decide to fuck around and find out with Sukuna   smut ⪼ you want a cat, and Sukuna absolutely does not   fluff ⪼ you vs. self-checkout vs. Sukuna’s patience   crack, fluff ⪼ Sukuna’s mechanic intuition   fluff ⪼ bad day protocol   chaos, married stupidity, petty argument ⪼ you know Sukuna's in love when he can't hold back the tremble in his voice   fluff ⪼ tracing Sukuna's tattoos while he plays   gamer!Sukuna ◦ fluff ⪼ you wake up in the middle of the night to find Sukuna still gaming   gamer!Sukuna ◦ fluff ⪼ calling Sukuna a good boy   fluff ⪼ you drag Sukuna into the photo booth   fluff

cw: angst + post-partum depression

the apartment is too quiet for a place that now holds three people.

it shouldn’t be.

baby!yuji’s asleep in the bassinet beside the bed.

you sit at the edge of the mattress, shoulders curved inward, fingers loosely clasped in your lap.

he’s been asleep for twenty minutes.

you know that because you’ve been watching the clock. you can’t even look at him.

it’s second hand ticks louder than it should.

sukuna’s in the hallway, shoulders held taut despite the clear exhaustion from work. he’s waiting.

“still awake?” his voice cuts through the room, softer than usual.

“yeah” you swallow, shifting slightly.

sukuna’s eyes seem to scan the room, landing back on you.

“you didn’t eat”

feigning normalcy had started to weigh on you.

you let out a small, humorless breath,

“i don’t think i was meant to be his mother”

“what the fuck did you just say to me?” blaming his tired ears, sukuna incredulously asks, assuming he heard her wrong.

he had to, because honest to god, there was no way his worst nightmare turned real two damn seconds before he turned the lights off to finally go to bed.

you sat your phone against your desk, the charm dangling in front of the camera, obscuring the view for a brief blurry second before sukuna scoffed, a large hand reaching out to flick it out of frame. “damn thing’s in the way.”

as you settled beside him, sukuna shifted into the camera’s frame too—naturally taking up more space than the camera could properly capture—large, broad shoulders, spiky, mussed salmon-hued hair pushed back from his tatted hand running through it way too many times, displaying all his sharp, sinister-looking features that stood out under the bright light in your dorm room.

a long roman nose that almost looked sculpted by the gods rather than born, edged brows pulled into a permanent annoyed expression, peach-colored lips soft despite the permanent grumpiness etched into them.

deep pools of onyx-colored ink seeped into his tanned skin, veins bulging faintly through the markings.

you glance over at your annoyed, pouting hulk of a boyfriend who, despite his rough exterior, is all soft for you.

you smile. “thanks, kuna baby.”

he shrugs, dismissively letting out a rasp-filled grunt. “tch.”

you poke his cheek in return, and he only sighs, but you feel the way he slowly melts into it, subtle and hesitant, like a grumpy stray cat pretending it doesn’t secretly enjoy pets.

“get on with it,” he demands.

you give him a pointed look.

his eye twitches before he grumbles, voice rougher this time, “get on with it, baby.”

“see? was that so hard?” you say sweetly, playing coy.

he rolls his eyes, head falling back against the chair, tongue clicking inside his mouth.

“don’t push it,” he says gruffly.

you squeal, ignoring his warning, clapping your hands together as you pull out the original-flavored ramune soda, the glass bottle clinking beneath your manicured nails while the clear liquid sloshes inside.

having tried every flavor but this one, you were excited—but more than anything, you were practically buzzing from the tips of your fingers to your toes at the trick you were about to play on sukuna.

he doesn’t really keep up with social media or trends—thinks they’re stupid. he only has an instagram because you begged him to get one so he could see your posts, and it’s literally just a black profile picture with the username mygirlfriendmadememakethisbullshit, and a bio that reads:

“fuck off im married.”

you’re not, but sukuna declares every single day that you’re his bride-to-be, ridiculously possessive about it too.

you’re his.

he’ll do anything to make sure you know that.

thankfully, his complete lack of knowledge when it comes to social media means you can play all the stupid, silly pranks on him, and he never sees them coming. and his reactions never fail to amaze you.

sometimes, you swear you can practically see steam billowing from his ears like some cartoon character. he’s embarrassingly easy to rile up.

your lips curl into a mischievous smirk for only a second before you replace it with a silky, saccharine-glossed pout.

“here,” you hum, holding the bottle out. “you try first.”

sukuna’s large hand practically swallows the bottle, fingers covering most of the label before he tips it back and takes a long swig.

immediately, he makes a face—teeth clenched, jaw tightening as he sucks in a breath, grimacing, his expression twisting in disgust.

“tastes like garbage,” he says bluntly, holding the bottle out for you to take back. “too sweet.”

you crinkle your nose. “what? gimme. i’ll be the judge of that. your tastebuds suck.”

he stares at you, his expression completely deadpan.

“clearly they don’t if i’m with you.”

heat pools low in your stomach from his compliment. you smile, pink dusting your cheeks, teasing him back.

“duh. i’m the exception.”

you snatch the bottle from him, bringing the edge of your shirt up to wipe the rim—erasing a part of him, or at least that’s what sukuna thinks as it takes him a second to fully process what you’ve just done.

his mouth tilts into something almost amused, a dangerous sort of smirk, but his crimson eyes narrow to slits, irritation flickering through them as the telltale vein in his forehead pulses.

you bring the bottle to your lips, forming a small “o” around the opening.

sukuna’s red-inked eyes narrow further, tracking every minuscule movement, locked onto you completely like a predator watching its prey—well, without the bloodshed.

“ooo, yummy,” you hum. “tastes like bubblegum.”

he swears you’re going to be the death of him—he’s had enough with your little tricks.

“what the fuck was that, huh?” he snaps. “treatin’ me like i’m some fuckin’ scum?”

you laugh nervously, trying to play it off, but he’s already moving.

rough hands manhandle you effortlessly, yanking the bottle from your grasp before he takes another massive swallow.

one large hand grips your jaw, thumb prodding at your soft lips, forcing your mouth open, holding it wide as he spits the fizzy soda back into your mouth.

he settles against his chair again like nothing happened, watching intently as you swallow it all down.

his hand lightly slaps your cheek, palm heated against your flesh, no real sting—only the phantom lingering touch that makes you feel a little too desperate for more.

“don’t do that stupid shit again,” he says, voice low, sending a shiver down your spine, your heart stuttering with a sudden, aching need for him.

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ masterlist - kofi - emergency comm info!

note: first time writing for sukuna.. how did i do?? this was inspired by a tiktok trend btw

You lay on your tummy in the soft sheets, phone glowing in your hands as you scroll mindlessly. Suguru’s resting on your back, his big body a comforting weight that pins you gently into the mattress. He feels so solid and warm, his chest rising and falling against you with each breath, the room's quiet except for the low hum of the fan and the occasional tap of your finger on the screen.

"Should we order something for dinner?" he murmurs near your ear, voice low and smooth, "Or maybe I can make something just for you? Eggs the way you like them."

You smile into the pillow and nod, his hands starts to wander then. At first they're innocent, sliding along your sides, but soon his palms grow bolder and he slips them under your t-shirt, mapping the curve of your waist and the softness of your skin. His touch gentle yet sure, fingers spreading wide to feel more of your warmth.

A soft moan slips from your lips. It was quiet, barely there, but it made him shift and you felt it immediately. His cock begins to harden against your ass, pressing through his sweatpants as he moves, the more he rocks subtly, the more obvious it becomes... he's getting hard just from touching you like this.

"Are you getting hard right now, Suguru?" you tease, voice playful.

He sighs, a sound full of pain and want. "Fuck yes Princess. And you're such a brat for pointing it out."

Before you could laugh, he flips you over with ease. His strength always surprises you and now you lay on your back, staring up at his handsome face, dark hair falling forward, framing those sharp violet eyes thats looking at you with hunger and he traces his hands up your arms until he pins both your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. The other resting besides your face.

He leans down and kisses you. First came soft pecks, light and teasing against your lips, then the kiss deepens, his mouth claiming yours fully, tongue pushing inside to taste you. You moan into it, body arching up to meet him and he slots perfectly between your thighs, his hips settling against yours as if he always belonged there.

The grinding starts slow, his hard cock rubbing right against your pussy through your thin shorts, with each roll of his hips makes you wetter, the fabric growing damp from how much you want him, then his free hand roams down your side, squeezing your hip before sliding under your shirt again to cup your breast.

You tug against his grip on your wrists, not to escape but to feel the control he has and It sends sparks through you. Suguru notices and tightens his hold just enough to remind you whose in charge as his tongue tangles with yours, the kiss turns messy and hot, breathy sounds filling the space between you.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, lips brushing your jaw. "Look at you. Already so wet for me and I haven't barely even touched you properly, sweet girl." His voice husky and he grounds down harder, letting you feel every inch of his erection pressing against your plump pussy.

Your legs wraps around his waist instinctively, the pressure feeling so good, each movement drags cock right over your clit, making you gasp and he kisses you again, deeper this time, swallowing every little moan you give him, His hand leaves your breast and travels lower, slipping into your shorts to find you soaked.

Suguru groans against your mouth. "So warm and ready. My sweet brat." His fingers teases your folds, circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your hips buck and you try to move your hands but he keeps them pinned, forcing you to take the pleasure he's giving.

He kisses down your neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot that always makes you shiver. His hips never stopping their slow grind, even as his fingers explore you. Two thick fingers pushes inside your pussy, curling just right and the stretch feels perfect and you clench around them, moaning louder now.

The weight of him on top of you is everything. His broad shoulders blocking out the light from the lamp. His scent, clean and masculine with a hint of his shampoo, surrounds you, making you feel safe and claimed all at once.

"Please, Suguru," you whisper.

He lifts his head up to look at you, eyes dark with lust. "Please what? Tell me, baby." He adds a third finger, pumping them in and out slowly while his thumb rubs your clit.

You whimper... "I need you inside me. All of you."

He smiles, that lazy, dangerous smile. "Good girl for asking so nicely." Then he releases your wrists but only to pull your shirt off. His own clothes follows quickly and when he settles back between your thighs, his bare cock rests heavy against your slick pussy.

He takes his time rubbing the head up and down your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Every slide making you tremble, then he pushes in, inch by thick inch, stretching you open until he bottoms out, the fullness makes your head fall back against the pillow.

Suguru stays still for a moment, savoring how you pulse around him and his hands finds yours again, lacing your fingers together above your head and he starts to move, deep and steady thrusts that hit every sensitive spot inside you.

Your moans mix with his low groans. The bed creaks softly under you both, he leans down to kiss you through it, tongues sliding together in time with his hips and weat begins to slick your skin where you're touching.

He angles his thrusts to grind against your clit with every push, the pleasure builds fast and your legs tightens around him, heels digging into the small of his back. "Aaa— Close," you breathe.

"Come for me," he commands softly. "Let me feel it."

You shatter around him, pussy clenching tight as waves of pleasure washes over you and he keeps moving through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking. Only then does he let himself go, burying deep and filling you with hot pulses of his milky cum.

He collapses on top of you, still inside, his weight comforting once more, he presses soft kisses to your shoulder as you both catch your breath.

"Dinner in a minute," he murmurs with a smile. "And maybe round two after."

You laugh softly and nod, running your fingers through his raven hair. The night is still young, and Suguru is far from being done with you.

-`♡´- MAIN MASTERLIST-`♡´--`♡´-GETO M-LIST-`♡´-