first day, first lecture, actually. he stepped in late, and the only empty seat left was beside you. you both stared at the professor in pure, utterly confused silence, question marks probably floating on top of your heads as you tried to gather anything. after five minutes, you simply turned and asked him to let you pass so you could leave.
he grabbed his stuff, joining you. he asked if you wanted to grab coffee, and that’s how it all started.
three years later, you were the untouchable sukuna ryomen’s girlfriend. your relationship was private, no one knew any details (it wasn’t like anyone would dare to ask sukuna, especially with the way his resting face was a terrifying glare to everyone else) and you two preferred it that way.
no one knew the details. no one knew how sukuna was deeply and utterly smitten— the scowling, terrifying, muscular 6’4 man turning immediately into lovesick puppy for you. clingy, needy, obsessed, your guard dog of a boyfriend never ever let you doubt his love. he always made it clear, whether it was his arm’s wrapped around you every chance he got, or him spamming your phone whenever you weren’t around, using any excuse to talk to you, or the way he dropped everything for you, making it clear you were his first priority, or the way he listened intensely to every word that left your mouth and noticed everything about you— which showed when he referenced your words from months ago, or bought you gifts you didn’t even mention, or could tell you weren’t okay from a single glance.
it really was not a lie that sukuna ryomen loved you. he knew it. you knew it. his frat knew it. everyone that really knew sukuna knew he loved you.
which was why the break up broke you.
that night didn’t even seem real. he had ignored you for a total of three days, replying to your texts dryly, which was already odd. then, he showed to to your place in the middle of the night, jaw clenched, eye bags dark, like he hasn’t slept in days. he didn’t elaborate, didn’t explain— simply told you he was tired, that he couldn’t do this anymore, and walked away.
like he didn’t just ruin you. like you two weren’t discussing your shared future a few days ago. like you two hadn’t already agreed what stupid fucking roses you wanted at your wedding. like he hasn’t kissed you so softly just a few days ago, murmuring soft pleads for you to never leave him.
to make it worse, he didn’t disappear after. he attended your shared lectures as usual— sitting behind you, always behind you, like he needed to keep you in his vision. he left your notifications on, which you knew because he remained the first to view every story until you blocked him. he kept going to your favorite cafe beside campus (he didn’t even like their coffee) at the exact same time you always did, his sad eyes set on you, buying a single water bottle each time, until you stopped going. you even had to stop going to the library late at night, because he would always be there, blank notebooks open as he pathetically pretended to focus when his eyes wouldn’t leave you alone. even late at night, when you would scroll through your chats, you would see his bubble. tying. erasing. there.
it was worse, because it was obvious that he still loved you.
it made you want to scream, really. it would have been better if he just… pretended you didn’t exist. ignored you. blocked you first. flirted with girls in your vision. did anything to make you feel like he didn’t care anymore. like he didn’t give a fuck, so you could move on. so you wouldn’t get the stupid urge to show up to his place and ask him what the fuck his issue was. so you could hate him.
but again, unfortunately for you, sukuna was never good at hiding his love for you.
it was going to be okay, though. because sukuna already broke it up, and moving on was clearly the only good solution. it wasn’t like he will ever come back, anywa—
bzzz.
dilf420: bro. ur fucking bf is sulking and ruining my party. can you come pick his drunk ass up. ill pay u.
you blinked once at the notification, then twice, then immediately opened it. you really should have blocked the whole frat.
you: broke up. no longer my bf. also, ur broke.
toji replied immediately.
dilf420: idc that u two broke up he’s drunk and blabbering about missing his fucking wife come pick his ass up
you stared at the dm blankly, eyes staring at the words like it would disappear if you blinked.
his fucking wife.
your throat felt dry. heart physically hurting, like someone’s fingers were digging into the muscle and squeezing it the way sukuna used to squeeze your fingers before kissing each knuckle. it hurt, so much, your vision slowly blurring the longer you stared at the three words.
on the other side of the phone, sukuna was pressed against toji, shoving his face into the cracked screen, face flushed from the alcohol, lips almost pouting, hair messy from running his hands through it so many times. “is she answerin’?” he muttered, voice slurred. “my pretty wife, is she comin’?”
toji sighed. “nah, man. she left me on read. you’re so fucked.”
sukuna groaned, stumbling slightly before he was leaning on the wall, eyes shut in pure devastation. “she hates me. what if she doesn’t wanna get back?”
“…you showed up at three in the morning and broke up with her without giving her a reason, bro. on gojo’s soul, she does not want to get back.”
it was silent for a few seconds before a quiet sniffle echoed in the room, and toji’s head snapped to the untouchable, scary figure sliding down the wall, face buried into his hands, shoulders trembling. toji’s eyes widened briefly, but sukuna grunted, the sound shaky. “not a fucking word.”
the next monday, you were still recovering from toji’s dm as you slid into your morning, 8:30 am lecture. you were half-asleep, buried in sweatpants and a hoodie, hood up in an attempt to hide from the world. your eyes were drooping sleepily, head slowly slipping from where your head rested on your palm, the tip of your pen slowly seeping ink into the paper.
someone slides beside you, and you freeze. you knew that cologne. you bought that cologne.
you didn’t move a muscle, shoulders tense, eyes suddenly focused as they stared ahead. you could feel his gaze, his thigh pressing against yours in the annoyingly small seats. you could feel the heat from his skin, even from the thick fabric of your sweatpants.
…what the fuck was he doing?
your jaw clenched, before you took a quiet deep breath, convincing yourself he must have not looked properly when picking a seat. it takes a few minutes, but you’re finally able to focus back on your professor again, ignoring the way you could feel his gaze shifting to you ever few seconds.
“…i’m sorry.”
you sucked in a sharp, annoyed breath, gaze still ahead, fingers tightening around the pen in your grasp, eyes unamused. he slowly placed a cup on your desk— your favorite coffee, from your favorite cafe. you froze, and you could see him wincing from your peripheral vision.
“…give me a chance explain, please?”
you carefully pushed yourself up, grabbing your bag and notebook, and silently stepped out of the hall. outside, toji was standing, a sigh on his lips as he caught up with you despite how you only spared him an annoyed glare.
“he loves you, you know that.” toji murmured. “give him a chance to explain.”
“no.” you muttered. “he’s a coward who left me without an explanation. now he wants to give me one?”
toji grimaced. “that wasn’t his brightest moments, but… come on, he’s your sukuna.”
“he made it clear he’s not.”
that night, you were dragged to one of their parties, curtesy of gojo begging you to show with tears and snot running down his face, using a lame excuse about how everyone in the frat misses you. you didn’t buy it, but you had to stop the embarrassingly loud bawling boy on your doorstep.
now, you sat in their kitchen, perched on the counter, an overly sweet drink between your fingers, and a staring ex-boyfriend on the other side.
sukuna was sulking.
eyes set on you, lips pursed, arms crossed— he ignored everyone who stared at him just so he could keep his eyes on you. geto and nanami sighed as they passed, geto offering him a bottle casually, and sukuna grabbed it, eyes still on you before he tilted his head back and drowned half the bottle down, only stopping when nanami pulled it back while snapping about expensive liquor.
the thing about sukuna? he was a lightweight, and an emotional drunk. that usually manifested in a shorter temper when he wasn’t with you, and him being unbelievably clingy with you, and now, a few hours after gulping random drinks down?
it manifested in him dragging himself to stand in front of you, lips wobbling and eyes tearful, looking like a kicked puppy instead of the frat bro everyone was terrified off. “baby…”
you hated how your own heart clenched, fingers digging into your palm to prevent yourself from cooing at him and tugging him into your hold safely. you only narrowed your eyes at him, and his eyes glossed even more. he opened his mouth, probably to beg, only to halt dangerously.
you, unfortunately, knew him too well. you let out a loud groan, quickly jumping off and dragging him to an empty bathroom upstairs, shutting the door just in time for him to drop to his knees and empty his stomach out into the toilet. he let out a choked sob between retches, and you sighed, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a hand slowly rubbing his back. “dumbass.”
“i miss you so much,” he immediately whimpered, eyes shut painfully. “i miss you so, so, much. please, angel, forgive me, please— i want you back, i need you back, ‘m a stupid son of a bitch for every breaking it off, i need you in my life, please—“
he was interrupted with another gag, and you sighed, resuming to rub his back as he continued, your own vision blurry, heart shattering at the broken sob he let out once he was done.
“breathe.” you murmured softly. “come on, kuna, breathe for me. you can do that, yeah?”
“no,” he choked out. “i can’t— can’t even breathe without you, baby. please, please, forgive me for being a dumb idiot, i need my wife back, please—“
“if you breathe now, and we can talk tomorrow.”
it was almost humorous how he immediately straightened up, red, watery eyes wide, nose red and cheeks flushed from the alcohol. you sighed, reaching over to wipe his tears away, and he let out a pathetic whine, immediately leaning into your touch. you finally helped him up, forcing him to brush his teeth before you opened the door, quietly leading him into his room.
inside, he immediately flopped into bed, tired, sad eyes staring up at you. “you’ll… talk to me, right? please, baby?”
“tomorrow,” you murmured, throwing him a pair of shorts. “just sleep now, okay?”
he nodded frantically, eyes shutting quickly, obediently.
no one would believe this was the version of sukuna ryomen you knew— now when everyone else got the loud, short-tempered, rude, asshole version of him. you stared at him softly, watching his breathe even out, eyes fluttering shut, before you sighed softly, and stepped out of his room.
the next morning, you woke up to sukuna in front of your door, hair messy and eyes exhausted, yet holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers and your favorite coffee, the other messily trying to adjust his shirt to look more presentable. the second you opened your door, eyes sleepy and hair messily, lips pulled into a frown, he froze.
red eyes widened softly before his body relaxed, eyes softening, and breathed out slowly. “…hi.”
you reluctantly opened the door wider, letting him in. he stepped in, 6’4 solid figure suddenly seeming small, gently setting the items down, hands that are used to throwing punches leaning down to carefully adjust a delicate petal before he straightened up, eyes falling back on you, so full of unsaid emotions that they were already glossing over.
after a few seconds, he swallowed harshly, throat bobbing before he took a step closer. “i missed you.”
you frowned, eyes narrowing. “why did you break up, sukuna?”
“please,” he choked out the second the name escaped your lips, eyes wide in pure devastation. “please, angel. ryo, kuna, baby, pretty boy— anything but that.”
your frown deepened. he let out a defeated, shaky breath, and stepped even closer. “i broke it because i was a fucking idiot. i… i never loved someone so much, angel, i never cared about someone so much. you made me the happiest person alive, and… i knew you deserved better.”
you froze. he sniffled, taking another step closer, eyes desperately and voice breaking. “angel, i… i’m a selfish, possessive asshole, and you deserve someone perfect. i was so scared that you’ll wake up one day and end it, so i… just did.”
your vision clouded with tears, and he dropped to his knees, eyes wet with unshed tears. “i was a stupid, fucking idiot. i should have stayed, talked to you, got the reassurance i know my angel would give me, but i didn’t want to be selfish… i thought i was doing what’s best for you…”
he let his head drop, face falling to press against your abdomen, a loud, pained whimper escaping him. “turns out i was a fucking idiot for ever considering letting you go. i… i have been miserable, angel, bawled my fucking eyes out an embarrassing amount of times. i miss you so much, baby, i can’t— i can’t live with you. i can’t sleep, eat, breathe,” he gasped, hands trembling as they slowly reached to hold into your waist, and let out a louder sob once his fingers touched your body, tears soaking your shirt. “i need you in my life, angel. please, i can’t live without you. my heart only exists to beat for you. i was a fucking moron to ever think about letting you go. you deserve so much better— and i promise, ‘ll be better. i’ll be a better boyfriend, a better partner, a better everything— just, give me a chance,”
you sniffled. the second you did, his head snapped up, eyes wide and tearful and horrified, and he immediately shot to his feet, ignoring his own soaked face as gentle fingers slowly cupped your cheek, wiping your tears away. “please don’t cry, i can’t handle you being upset, please—“
“you idiot.” you finally whispered. he froze, eyes wide and pained, and you only stepped closer, letting your head drop into his chest. his arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you until no space existed between you both. “are you stupid?”
“i am. i’m sorry, baby,” he whispered back. “i’m so sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m—“
“shut up.” you croaked out. “you’re an idiot. i love you as you are, you asshole.”
“i know, baby. i’m sorry.” he buried his face into your neck, his tears damping your shirt once more. “i’m never leaving you again, angel. not even physically— i’ll be so clingy you’ll get sick of me. i can’t live without you, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”
you let him hold you, eyes shut tiredly. “…idiot.”
he let out a sharp laugh, holding you even tighter, pressing wet kisses all over your face until a smile broke on your pretty lips, and you could physically feel him finally breathing normally, still pressing kisses to your face, gentle and needy and desperate. “i know, angel. only an idiot would ever walk away from you. never, ever again. i love you. never, ever again. i’ll marry you, my love. never leaving you again.”
a/n i hate tumblr i had to write this three times </3 anyways hi ^^ still obsessed w these headers…
5 times sukuna was heavily yearning + 1 time you finally noticed.
oblivious, lonely reader who’s used to doing things alone x downbad!sukuna. jealous!sukuna. gn!reader. reader wears glasses. uncle!sukuna. sukuna calls reader angel. he’s so down bad bro. ooc sukuna as usual. mentions of nsfw contents.
— ☆ —
1. movie nights.
you had a specific, detailed, high maintenance routine for watching movies. you had slowly perfected the process— a mental to do list popping up every time a new movie dropped that you needed to watch.
first, you needed to be in your designated ‘movie night pajamas’, the most comfortable you owned. your favorite blanket had to be there, along with your favorite pillow for support. you liked watching in your home more than cinemas, because you disliked the idea of not being able to pause the movie for whatever reason. who decided to make bathroom breaks that short, anyways?
for snacks, chips poured into your favorite bowl, your favorite niche flavor. a chocolate bar sat beside it just incase the movie got intense enough for you to crave it. your favorite drink was set beside them in a thermal cup, allowing you to drink it as slow as possible without it melting too quickly.
your phone had to be on dnd, blocking out every notification. the room had to be cold, and you avoided any distractions because pausing the movie on piracy websites meant three minutes of closing ads to turn it back on.
tonight, everything was perfect.
you were perfectly wrapped in your blanket, eyes wide as it watched the screen perfectly, chips tasting perfect, drink perfected, everything absolutely perfect—
bzzz.
you immediately groaned. who could possibly be showing up? you hadn’t ordered food. no one was invited over. it was late. what could possibly be urgent enough to prompt someone to ruin your little routine?
you paused the movie (which took three minutes of pressing ‘x’ on ads urging you to ‘text hot, single ladies in your area’, and ‘ai bots who can make you cum in three minutes!’), pushed the blanket off, and pulled the door open with a soft pout you didn’t even register, just to pause when you saw sukuna standing there, eyebrows furrowed, frowning.
you and sukuna weren’t that close, really. you were in the same friend group, but you always felt nervous around him. he was intimidating, scary, too cool for you. he always stared at you blankly, and you decided he was judging you for… everything. you were awkward, nervous, a little odd.
so, him showing up to your home at midnight was a little… nerve-wracking. his red eyes slowly scanned your comfortable, worn out pajamas, messy hair, tiny pout that faded as your eyes widened, before he blinked blankly. “sorry for showing up unannounced.”
he didn’t sound apologetic. at all. his tone was monotonous, almost unamused.
“can i come in?”
you slowly blinked, before realizing how dumb you must look. you grimaced internally, stepping aside, letting him in. immediately, his eyes landed on your little set up, and he arched an eyebrow. “movie night, huh? watching part two of your little movie series?”
“how did you know?” you mumbled, genuinely confused. much to your surprise, his lips twitched up in something that looked like admiration, amused, and it was the closest you ever got to see him smile.
holy fuck, he was so gorgeous it felt unfair. now that you were actually focusing on the man towering over you, dressed in a black shirt and gray sweatpants, tanned skin peaking from under his clothes, muscles on view—
“it’s your favorite series, and it just dropped. i can recognize the sketchy ass website because you hate netflix. you have your little movie night routine, pajamas, chips, and drink.” he murmured casually, nonchalantly, as if it was normal that the guy you thought disliked you knew this much about you. “i listen, you know.”
your jaw was slack, eyes wide. he only snorted, arching an eyebrow. “don’t tell me fucking gojo was right and you really think i hate you.”
you paused. “well…”
“are you serious?” sukuna scoffed. “you’re my fucking favorite in the group, dumbass.”
“what?” you mumbled back, more confused. “you always glare at me. you never talk to me. i was starting to think you didn’t even know my last name.”
he stared at you, almost as if you were insane, then sighed. “you really are oblivious, huh?”
“hey—“
he shook his head, still looking mildly amused. “here’s the notes suguru said he would drop by to give you and forgot. i know you like studying early.”
“oh. you didn’t have to—“
“i wanted to.” he immediately stated, face serious. “‘ll leave you to it, can’t have someone ruining your perfect night. goodnight.”
with that, he was out, leaving you even more flabbergasted.
what. the. fuck.
2. hangouts.
you were still getting used to the idea that sukuna told you that not only did he not hate you, but that you were his favorite in the group. to you, the idea was unbelievable. flabbergasting. maybe even a little more scarier than being hated by him for some reason, but you managed pretty well.
at least you were more comfortable hanging out with your group now.
however, you had a tiny little habit. you hated the coffee at the place your friends loved, so often, you just walked away to the place next to it to buy your own coffee. it provided you a break, making the little pit of your stomach that grows when having to be around people, even your best friends, for too long reset, and you just get a chance to catch your breath.
today wasn’t different. in the middle of the hangout, you grabbed your wallet and slipped out, enjoying the tiny walk in fresh air before you stepped into your favorite cafe.
the familiar barista immediately lit up at the sight of you, boredom fading from his face. he was your age, friendly with a cute grin that grew whenever you two chatted— something that made you feel at ease when ordering.
“my favorite customer,” he immediately greeted, grinning. the bell at the door chimed, and you both didn’t pay any mind to it. “i wonder what you will order this time.”
you snorted. you both knew you ordered the exact same thing every single time. “yeah, i wonder too.”
he chuckled, eyes flickering to the screen. you could feel a figure stopping behind you. “well, you know your total.”
you hummed, about to pay, when the familiar scent of sukuna’s signature perfume finally registered in your mind as he moved to step beside you, eyes narrowed, jaw slowly twitching. “make it two.”
you slowly glanced up. the barista looked up in surprise, before he nodded calmly. “of course.”
before you could register it, sukuna’s card was pressing against the machine, paying for you both. your jaw went slack for the second time this week, flabbergasted once more, but sukuna was already pulling you out of line so that the people behind you could pay.
and, more unfazed that he should be by his own actions, he casually held out the receipt. “here. you take the code and collect points on their app, right?”
“…how the fuck do you even know that?” you mumbled, utterly confused. “why are you here? how did you find me— did you even know what you ordered—“
“easy there, angel.” he murmured, calm. “you always carry the receipt and i see you type something from it on your phone often. ‘m here because the coffee in the other shop is ass. you always come here, so i figured i would try my coffee with you. i know what i ordered because i know your order.”
you openly gaped at him. he only reached over, grabbing both drinks, arching an eyebrow. “are you gonna gape at me forever or drink this sweet shit?”
“…did you just call me angel?”
his amusement immediately faded, ears turning red as he shoved your drink your way, looking away. “absolutely not. hallucinations. let’s go.”
that was what he chooses to deny? not that he knew your movie night in details? that he knew your exact drink? that he knew you secretly collected points from your favorite coffee shop?
you let out a tiny chuckle, amused, following behind him. that somehow managed to make his ears even more red, a scowl pulling on his pretty lips.
fuck. he was gorgeous, and adorable.
how horrible for you.
3. aquarium.
you laid face-down on shoko’s bed, face showed between the pillows, eyes shut in pure horror. “‘m so screwed.”
she sighed for the nth time from where she sat on the ground, studying. “you quite literally could not be more not screwed.”
“i have a crush on him, shoko. i never have crushes. and now i have one, on fucking sukuna. the guy once punched a guy for breathing ‘his’ air. he fucking hates people. i am so utterly fucked. he will kill me.”
she glanced up, as if she knew something you didn’t. “he won’t kill you. kiss you? maybe.”
“stop being delusional.” you mumbled, voice muffled as you buried your face into the sand further. “‘m so fucked.”
she sighed. “you’re delusional too if you don’t realize what’s happening. anyways, isn’t it the twenty seventh? your monthly aquarium night?”
you jumped up, gasping. “it is! fuck!” you quickly grabbed your phone to check the time, before opening the aquarium’s instagram page just in case there were any updates.
and, unfortunately, right there on their instagram story, posted twelve hours ago, was a simple statement.
‘couples only day!’
“oh, fuck my fucking life.” you mumbled, eyes on the story, shoulders drooping. “shoko, be my aquarium date.”
“couples only, huh? if only these weren’t the conditions,” she mused, almost flirty, before tilting her head.
“yes.”
“ask sukuna to go with you.”
you blinked once, twice, before pulling up your phone, nodding, serious. “good idea. ‘m asking gojo or geto.”
“that is quite literally not what i said.”
“you’re a genius.”
you sent off a quick text to geto and gojo, jumping off her bed to head to your own apartment to get ready. after dressing up all cute for the sake of your loved marine animals, you glanced down at your phone, where a vague text from gojo said he couldn’t, followed by maybe three million crying emojis (which was maybe because he had begged before to accompany you said no. aquariums were a single, you-only trip), and geto sent back a simple ‘he’s almost there’, and a thumbs up.
what kind of reply was that? you frowned, sending five questions marks, about to ask who the fuck ‘he’ was, when your doorbell rings.
you pulled the door open, and freeze when your eyes landed on the one and only sukuna. he glanced at you, eyes blank, and nodded once. “let’s go.”
“…where?”
he raised an eyebrow. “the aquarium. date night. let’s go.”
“…are you sure?” you immediately mumbled, voice uncharacteristically low. “‘m, uh, kind of enthusiastic about this. nerdy. geeky. um, annoying.”
his lips twitched up into an endeared smile that he immediately pushed back. “i know what ‘m getting into. let’s go.”
you grabbed your jacket, eyebrows furrowing. “suguru could have just said he couldn’t come. i’m sorry he sent you instead.”
“oh, he could come.” sukuna stated blankly, stepping into the elevator behind you. you glanced up at him, confused, and he stared back blankly, as if waiting for you to collect dots you didn’t even see. he only sighed after a few minutes, shaking his head. “this is both cute and infuriating. so, which stupid creature is your favorite?”
you expected a night with sukuna to be awkward. tense. uncomfortable. a night where you had to hold back so you don’t become labeled as talkative, or annoying, or too much.
you didn’t expect for him to be a good listener. nodding at whatever you said, asking questions at first to keep you talking until you were comfortable rambling. you didn’t expect him to hold your things so you could comfortably get closer to the glass, or stay longer at your favorite animals, or ask you about ones that seemed interesting, his eyes soft and lips twitching upwards just the slightest. you didn’t expect him to disappear at one point and come back with a few limited-edition items from the small gift shop either, dumping them in your arms wordlessly as you two were walking out.
“thank you for being my fake date for the night, kuna.” you mumbled as he was dropping you off, sleepy, eyes soft and voice slurred. he paused at your words, lips twitching into a frown before he eyed how sleepy you were and only sighed.
“of course, angel.” he muttered, reaching over and nonchalantly pressing a kiss to your forehead before he turned around, walking away. “…sleep well, goodnight.”
gaping at him seeming like a new routine, except this time, your sleepy eyes were set on his back as he left, almost getting distracted by his muscles showing through the fabric. oh, you were so, utterly fucked.
4. the beach.
you sat quietly on the sand, wrapped tightly in a towel, eyes ahead as you watched gojo, geto and shoko shoving each other in the water. choso was on a towel beside you, deeply asleep and snoring. toji was playing around with megumi and nobara and yuji, who was yapping about how his uncle dropped him off and disappeared. everyone was enjoying themselves.
you were freezing.
you had gotten there earlier, having known they would all show up too late. you liked swimming alone with no eyes on you, so with too much sunscreen, you stayed in the water under the sun in what you knew was the perfect time for you. by the time everyone else arrived, you were already drying in the shade.
oh, how you wished you had a dry towel—
a dry towel dropped into your lap before the thought even finished. you froze, glancing up at the sky, before immediately closing your eyes again and wishing for a million dollars just in case.
“don’t stare at the fucking sun.”
ah. your genie.
you peaked through your lashes at sukuna, who glared at you, a hand going to shade your eyes from the sun. he was dry, holding a small bag which you assumed was for his wallet and phone and car keys and towel, the sun kissing every spot on his perfect body, as if purposely teasing you.
fuck. how could someone be so pretty?
he sighed, pulling a cap out of the bag. he pushed it on top of your damp hair, shading your face, and slumped beside you. “switch towels. mine is dry.”
“hi.” you mumbled dumbly, blinking a few times to snap yourself from the daze seeing his beautiful red eyes in the sun put you through. his lips twitched, face softening, and he only pulled the cap down further. you finally remembered how to think. “don’t you need your towel dry?”
“‘m not going into the water this late.” he stated. his eyes flickered to choso asleep, and he rolled his eyes, standing back up. you watched shamelessly as he effortlessly pulled the heavy umbrella so it was covering the sun kissed stoner, sighing, voice lower. “that dumbass.”
“i spray him with sunscreen every two hours. flipped him once.” you mused, taking the chance of sukuna being distracted to switch towels, sighing in relief once the warm, dry, soft towel wrapped around you. “thank you, kuna.”
“don’t mention it.” he grunted, then frowned once he registered your words, “you rub sunscreen on him?”
“oh, no, it’s a spray.” you hummed, pulling it out. “isn’t it cool?”
he glanced at the spray bottle, shoulders slowly relaxing. “mhm. it is. can you spray me?”
you nodded, moving to stand up, immediately stumbling in the towel. firm fingers immediately steadied you, and you deeply hoped he couldn’t feel the warmth radiating off you from being flustered as he slowly let go.
you slowly sprayed him, the sunscreen leaving a shiny coat that made him look even more beautiful. after making sure every part of him was covered, you slowly sat back down. “try to rub it to make sure it’s even.”
he hummed, eyes shut, slowly spreading it out, spreading it out on his tan skin.
what a fucking sight, really. he was so, unbelievably gorgeous. you were so fucked.
“…you went early, huh?”
“…yeah.” you mumbled, eyes still on him, hoping he keeps his eyes closed.
“tell me next time. ‘ll go with you.” he sighed. “these idiots always come when it’s already too cold.”
you nodded slowly as he finally finished, slumping next to you on the little beach mat gojo had gotten, so close that his thigh was pretty to your covered figure. he frowned. “your lips are pale. still cold?”
you grimaced. “‘ll be okay. thank you for the towel—“
he sighed, an arm wrapping around your shoulder before he was pulling you towards him. you missed the way his body relaxed, lips twitching into a repressed grin, the face of a man finally achieving one of his long lost goals.
holy fuck. you were pressed to his side, his body oozing warmth. he smelled great, and you could feel his muscles every time he shifted. as you stared ahead, trying to pretend like you weren’t malfunctioning, your eyes landed on shoko, gojo and geto staring back at you guys from the water, jaws slack.
well. at least it wasn’t you this time.
5. studying.
as much as it seemed otherwise, studying with gojo actually helped you. you both kept each other in check— you stopped him whenever he started yapping, and he distracted you whenever you were spiraling. you both were a team when studying— having been one since the first semester, when you both met.
during breaks, however, was when you really liked studying with gojo. you both sat with thirteen expensive pastries in front of you, gojo’s treat, and he grinned excitedly. “oh, this will be so good. you go first.”
“you don’t have to tell me twice.” you mumbled, picking one up. you immediately moaned in delight, holding the rest to gojo, who reached over and took the rest from between your fingers. “fuck. this is so good.”
gojo let out an even louder moan. you both ignored the disgusted glares from the people around you, happily chewing. “oh, these are fucking godsent. thank you for being my taste buddy.”
“thank you,” you mumbled, grabbing another one. “you’re the one spoiling me with these. you’re, like, my dream man right now.”
gojo let out a loud laugh, before pausing, shivering in horror at whatever he imagined. “do not let sukuna hear you saying that. he’ll have my head.”
“why would he have your head for that?” you mumbled, mouthful, and distracted by the heavenly taste of these. you weren’t even a fan of pasteries, but these were on another level. you tried another, and immediately groaned. “fuck. try this one.”
you immediately extended your hand out to gojo. he, as usual, ate half of it off your fingers instead, and dramatically melted in his seat. “ten out of ten. perfect. stunning. i will marry whoever made these.” he swallowed, and quickly ate the rest off your fingers to. “and he will because he’s, like, in love with you.”
“you flipping liar.” you mumbled, unamused with the obvious fake news. “he doesn’t. he’s just a good friend.”
“he’s not a good friend,” gojo snorted. “he almost shoved my head into the toilet bowl yesterday because he was bored. he likes you.”
you did not believe him the slightest. “uh-huh. wanna try the red one?”
“yes, please.”
later that night, you were curled up in bed— going over everything you had studied earlier to lock the information into your mind. the groupchat was blowing up after choso was caught kissing someone (you already knew the news. choso blurted about his ‘secret’ crush to you before when he was high, and forgot.) and you just shot back a sticker laughing, said you were studying and you needed more caffeine to deal with this, and shut your phone off completely.
you really needed caffeine.
everytime you shut your eyes, all you can see is a cold, cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite shop. the condensation running down, the inviting taste, everything—
fuck. you needed one so bad. you frowned, turning your phone on to glance at the time, and paused when a notification stood out from between the ones on the groupchat.
sukuna: pick u up for coffee in five?
you stared at the message, then slowly glanced down at the sweatpants and oversized hoodie you were in, your hair messy, broken glasses on because you were too lazy to get these specific ones fixed and you lost the other, before sighing. you needed caffeine too bad to worry about how you looked in front of him right now.
you: please :c
a car honked downstairs a few minutes. you quickly grabbed your wallet and your half-dead phone, rushing downstairs, grabbing an oversized jacket on the way so you could tug it on top of your thick hoodie, grimacing at how much of a mess you looked. you slid into the passenger seat, and sukuna only stared at you, eyes slowly taking in your appearance, lips softly pulling up.
“don’t say anything.” you immediately mumbled. his smirk widened, but he didn’t speak, immediately resuming to drive, eyes ahead. “‘m so sleepy.”
“uh-huh. let’s get some caffeine in you.” he murmured, turning more serious. “don’t overwork yourself tonight. did you have dinner?”
you nodded, ignoring how your heart felt like it was twirling in your chest. “i did. ate and drank and slept well.”
he hummed. “good.”
in the coffee shop, he got the same as you, paying despite your complaints. once the drinks were out, he grabbed both, wrapping yours in tissues to keep your fingers from being cold before handing it over, humming.
you were looking over notes in your phone, too tired to register his actions. you only quietly took the cup, immediately sipping, shoulders slowly rolling down, tense muscles relaxing. “thank you, kuna.”
he clicked his tongue. “don’t mention it.”
in the car, you focused on sipping the coffee, and he cleared his throat. “gojo said you two were on a study date this morning. pastries and shit. said you called him your dream man.”
you snorted. sukuna glanced over, utterly unamused, almost pouting. “i love gojo.”
his lips immediately formed a scowl. “you love him?”
“not like that,” you snorted. “he’s just… he was the first person who was nice to me in university, you know. the first person who made sure i never felt like a burden. he means a lot to me, platonically.”
he was silent for a while, then nodded, pulling up in front of your building. “good. you deserve to never feel like a burden. you… mean a lot to me.”
was he trying to kill you? you immediately shuffled out, heart beating like it was trying to escape your chest, cheeks burning. “you mean a lot to me too, kuna. um, goodnight. thank you for picking me up.”
“don’t mention it, angel.”
+1.
against your will, you were dragged to a party.
you would have been enthusiastic, really, if finals hadn’t just ended— leaving you too sleep deprived that you couldn’t even walk straight. gojo had came over to force you out and picked your outfit out for you, keeping in mind your pleads for it to be something warm, and you ended up in the passenger seat of his car, asleep soundly, vaguely aware of his whining about you needing to be awake as he drove you there.
you could only remember little snippets between your tiny naps, really.
gojo having his arm around you as he dragged you in.
you slumping down beside choso, immediately falling asleep on his shoulder.
sukuna crouching down in front of you, concerned, eyes worried.
sukuna covering you with a blanket.
sukuna sitting beside you, pulling your head into his shoulder instead.
geto replacing choso. you shifting, head falling into his shoulder because he was warmer.
sukuna immediately pulling you back towards him, an arm falling around your waist to keep you close, bickering with geto.
after that, you drifted into deep sleep— the kind that only came after a week straight of pulling all nighters. and, when you woke up again, you were wrapped in a blanket, on the roof, on a tiny couch with your head on sukuna’s lap and a cigarette between his lips.
the second he registered you awake, he pushed the cigarette into the ashtray, eyes soft, fingers on your shoulders to help you sit up. “you okay, angel?”
“mhm. sleepy.” you mumbled, blinking slowly, still half asleep. you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “thank you for watching over me, kuna. you’re, like, my angel.”
“…don’t mention it.” he whispered— although, it sounded more like a pained whimper. “i… yeah. don’t mention it.”
it was silent for a few minutes. you both stared up at the sky, lost in thought, before sukuna cleared his throat.
“…the stars are pretty.”
“mhm.”
he paused, before speaking again. his voice was low, soft, but it was laced with quiet frustration that you could tell wasn’t pointed at you. “we’re, uh, done with the semester.”
“…mhm.”
he clicked his tongue, and sat up, like he’s restarting. “…we’re good friends.”
“we are.” you mumbled, still dazed from your delicious, needed nap. he let out a small groan, face buried into his palm.
“fuck.”
“…kuna?” you murmured, voice soft, sleepy. his eyes finally flickered up, frustrated and almost disappointed in himself, and you only gave him a small, sleepy smile. “i like you too.”
and finally, it was his turn for his jaw to go slack, eyes widening, before he turned to you quickly. “you’re not fucking with me, right? you like me?”
you nodded, sleepy, but focused. “i like you.”
he didn’t hesitate before dropping to his knees in front of you, eyes soft and almost pathetic. “say that again. please.”
“i like you, kuna.” you repeated, quieter, softer, more serious.
he let his head drop, face pressed against the blanket covering your thighs briefly, voice muffled when he spoke. “…you have no idea how many years i have been dying to hear this, angel. fuck.” when he lifted his head back up, his red eyes were almost glossy. “‘m marrying the fuck out of you one day.”
that managed a sleepy laugh out of you. “take me on a date first, at least. we haven’t even kissed yet.”
his eyes lit up at the mere thought— before you watched him visibly holding himself back, trying to appear more relaxed, probably to not scare you off, despite his reddening ears at the idea. “right. dates. i will date you so fucking good, i promise, you will never think of anyone but me again. not even that stupid barista who clearly wants you so bad. only me.” he nodded, serious, scowling, before his eyes softened again. “best dates of your life. where do you want to go? dinner? coffee? aquarium? your little movie night routine at my place? do you want me to make it a surprise? i will be the best boyfriend— wait, fuck, not that yet—“
you reached over, softly pressing your lips to his,
he froze, eyes probably wide, then immediately melted the second your fingers gently cupped his face to pull him closer, letting out a soft, little sound into the kiss that had his face flushing further.
once you pulled away, your eyes met his dazed ones, and he slowly sucked in a deep breath. “….fuck.”
“dinner sounds good.” you whispered back, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, and he shut his eyes, as if it took visible effort not to groan. “next week?”
“you think ‘ll make it to next week?” he let out a sharp laugh. “you have me fucking kneeling for you, angel. tomorrow. 8. please.”
“okay.” you murmured, voice soft. “now, come back up, i will want to continue napping on you.”
satoru gojo with a baby who looks exactly like you.
his genes didn't even try. not a speck of white in his baby girl's hair, not a sliver of crystal blue in her eyes. she's all you—from the eyes to the nose to the laugh. good lord, satoru has been blessed by the gods.
he fell in love with her the moment the doctor handed you the little bundle of joy. and when he first carried her? you just laugh at the way he almost melts to the floor.
everytime he gets home from missions, he goes straight to where you're playing with mini you. his daughter giggles upon seeing her dad. he crashes on top of the two of you, careful not to squish neither of you. first and foremost, he kisses you. then, the baby. then back to you, then back to her—it goes on and on until you go and tell him to shower.
at night when your daughter makes a fuss, it's satoru who gets up and soothes her. he carries her over to your shared room, lays her in the space between, and talks to her about anything—his latest mission, his students, her big brother megumi, how the two of you met, his bestfriend suguru, her uncle nanami, her aunt shoko.
all the while, his baby listens earnestly, eyes wide and curious like yours. she even responds sometimes! no, she can't talk yet, but she's already a good listener.
"maybe we should take you to see uncle suguru. do you miss him? who do you miss more, him or papa?"
"ah."
"there's only one answer to that. why are you hesitating?" he pokes her cheek, and holds back the urge to bite and chomp.
"ba.."
"papa? yes! that's right. you miss papa more, right?"
"ma!"
satoru gasps dramatically, "mama? you're already with her 24/7!" your baby grins, and he's in awe by how much of you he sees in her.
he picks her up with ease, and settles her on top of him. he glances at your sleeping form, "you look like your mom, you know?"
your baby also glances at you, one hand reaching out before satoru grabs her little wrist and holds it to his chest. "mama's sleeping. she's tired, we need to let her rest."
your daughter babbles, "ma-ma-ma."
"yes, mama. you look like mama. that means you're also pretty and beautiful." he kisses her cheek.
"pi. pi!"
satoru nods in understanding, acting like your baby just said something revolutionary. "yes. pretty. that's you," he pinches her nose, she huffs. "and mama. my pretty girls."
"when you grow up, you need to marry someone who'll preach your beauty like how i do to your mom, okay? never date a boy who doesn't tell you how beautiful you are every passing day." satoru whispers, eyes locked onto an identical pair to yours.
his daughter only yawns in response, dropping her head into his sternum. satoru adjusts her so she's laying on her back in the middle of you two. instinctively, your baby wiggles around, searching for your warmth in her sleep. satoru only sighs with a smile. what a velcro baby he's raising.
from jade: self-indulgent dad gojo fic bcuz im ovulating and im sleepy and i got crazy baby fever from spending a few days at my aunt's and her two month old baby boy and i also wrote this instead of stressing out over my groupworks so enjoy tehe
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ a feared, sleep-deprived sukuna shows up to the library just to take care of you, only to end up being the one who melts into your arms instead.
✿ ◞◟) ryomen sukuna 𝓍 gn!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 fluff, established relationship, college!au, sukuna is a menace (publicly) but a loser (privately), back hugs, acts of service, soft kisses, big scary man reduced to putty.
the library was supposed to be neutral ground.
that's what everyone agreed on, at least. the massive, radiant-lit study hall on the third floor of the student union existed in a strange little bubble of collective silence, where people from every corner of campus could huddle over their laptops without having to acknowledge each other.
it was functional — boring, even — it was the kind of place where the most exciting thing that could happen was someone accidentally crinkling a chip bag too loudly.
which is why, when ryomen sukuna walked through the doors, twenty pairs of eyes snapped up at once.
he didn't look at any of them, he didn't need to; his presence alone was enough to suck the air out of the room — all six foot something of him, broad shoulders straining against the worn black fabric of his hoodie, tattoos crawling up his neck and disappearing into his jawline like dark vines. his face was all sharp angles and quiet menace, the kind of face that belonged on a wanted poster or a magazine cover, depending on how brave you were feeling. most people weren't feeling brave.
sukuna was holding a pink hydro flask.
no one dared to comment on it, not when he was scanning the room with those heavy-lidded crimson eyes, jaw set in its usual resting position that hovered somewhere between bored and actively hostile. a girl in the corner actually pulled her knees up to her chest, like she was trying to make herself smaller, and a guy two tables over dropped his pen and decided, very wisely, to just leave it there.
then sukuna's entire face changed.
it wasn't really dramatic; sukuna’s expression didn't soften so much as it unclenched — the tension bleeding out of his brow, the hard line of his mouth twitching into something that wasn't quite a smile but was definitely adjacent to one. his shoulders dropped half an inch, and his eyes, still sharp but suddenly warm in a way that felt almost illegal to witness, landed on a table near the window; you.
you didn't look up right away.
you were absently chewing on the end of your highlighter, eyebrows pinched together as you stared down at what looked like a truly offensive amount of organic chemistry notes. your hair was piled into a messy bun that was already escaping in several directions, and you'd stolen one of sukuna’s hoodies once again — the gray one with the ripped cuff, which he'd specifically told you not to steal because it was his favorite, which meant you'd worn it approximately four times in the past week.
sukuna crossed the room in seven long strides, ignoring the way people practically threw themselves out of his path. by the time he reached your table, the hydro flask was already extended toward you, bumping gently against your elbow.
you finally looked up, and your whole face lit up like someone had flipped a switch.
"hi, baby," you said with the cutest smile.
your voice was so casual, so utterly unbothered, like you weren't currently being stared at by half the library, like the six-foot-four tattooed menace looming over you was just a random guy, just your guy.
"you forgot this," sukuna said.
and his voice — god, his voice. it was still that same low, gravelly rumble that made freshman cross the street to avoid walking past him, but there was something else underneath it now; something softer, almost shy, if shy was a word that could ever apply to ryomen sukuna. the boy set the pink hydro flask down next to your elbow, and his long fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary.
"you always forget it. your head's gonna dry up and fall off one of these days."
you laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that came from your chest, easy and warm.
"that's not how dehydration works."
"you don't know that. you're not a doctor."
sukuna was already pulling out the chair next to you, the metal legs scraping against the floor in a way that made several people wince; he didn't seem to notice, or care, sukuna dropped into the seat like he belonged there, which he did, because he'd been sitting in that exact chair every tuesday and thursday for the past four months, ever since you'd declared this your official study spot.
"i'm pre-med," you reminded him, twisting the cap off the hydro flask and taking a long sip.
water dripped down your chin, and you wiped it away with the back of your hand, completely unselfconscious. sukuna watched you do it with an intensity that should have been unsettling but somehow just looked like devotion.
"pre-med isn't med," he said, but his heart wasn't in it.
sukuna’s heart was somewhere in the vicinity of your pinky finger, which was suddenly very close to his hand on the table. he stared at it for a long moment, like he was trying to decide if touching it would make him seem desperate.
( he was desperate. he was always desperate. but he had a reputation to maintain, or whatever. )
"did you eat?" you asked with a little smile, capping the bottle and setting it aside.
your knee knocked against his under the table — deliberately, sukuna knew, because you always did that when you wanted his attention. like you didn't already have all of it, constantly, every single second of every single day.
"yeah."
"liar."
sukuna looked away.
"i had a protein bar."
"that's not food."
you were already digging through your backpack, and sukuna watched your hands move with that same quiet intensity, cataloging every small movement; the way your nails were painted a chipped, faded lavender, the way the sleeve of his hoodie kept slipping down over your fingers, the way you bit your lower lip when you were concentrating, just slightly, just enough to make something twist low in his stomach.
you emerged victorious with a granola bar, thrusting it toward him like a peace offering.
"eat."
"i'm not hungry."
"ryomen."
and that was it, that was all it took; just his name, falling out of your mouth in that particular tone — not angry, not nagging, just warm and expectant — and sukuna was reaching for the granola bar like his hands had stopped belonging to him. he tore the wrapper open with his teeth because he was still him, still a little feral around the edges, but he ate it.
every last bite, even though he'd genuinely not been hungry, because you'd asked him to.
you smiled at him, small and pleased, and then you turned back to your notes like that was just a normal interaction, like you hadn't just made the most feared man on campus eat his vegetables, metaphorically speaking.
sukuna watched you for another very, very long moment, and then he did something that made the girl at the next table literally drop her phone.
he rested his chin on your shoulder.
it was such a small thing, such an unconscious thing — the way sukuna leaned into your space, his chest pressing against your back, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck. his eyes fluttered half-closed, and he made a sound that was almost a sigh, something low and content that vibrated through both of you. sukuna’s arms came up to wrap around your waist, loose enough that you could still move, still highlight your notes, but present and anchoring.
"you're heavy," you said.
but you were already leaning back into him, your head tilting to give sukuna better access to your neck, and your hand came up to rest over his, your fingers slotting between his like they'd been made to fit there.
"mmh. you're warm," he mumbled against your skin, and his voice was so soft now, so private, like he'd forgotten there were other people in the room entirely.
sukuna’s thumb slowly traced absent patterns on your hip, over and over, a mindless rhythm that he probably didn't even realize he was doing.
a guy at the table across from them — some lanky kid with a beanie and an aura of misplaced confidence — whispered something to his friend, and sukuna's eyes snapped open; just for a second, just long enough to pin the guy in place with a look that said i heard that, and i will remember your face, and you should probably leave now.
the guy left, and his friend followed, looking vaguely nauseous.
you poked sukuna's hand.
"stop terrorizing the other students."
"he was staring."
"everyone's always staring. you're kind of noticeable."
sukuna made a noise that might have been a grunt of acknowledgment. his grip on your waist tightened slightly, and he pressed his face more firmly into the junction of your neck and shoulder, breathing you in. you smelled like vanilla and coffee and that specific laundry detergent you used, the one that made all your clothes smell like clean linen and something floral he couldn't name.
sukuna had started buying it for his own clothes too, which was embarrassing, but no one had to know that.
"you should study," you said, even as your free hand came up to card through his hair.
pink strands slipped through your fingers, surprisingly soft, and sukuna practically melted against you; his whole body went loose and pliant, the tension draining out of him like water from a cracked vase.
"didn't you say you had a paper due?"
"finished it."
"when?"
"this morning. at four."
you stopped moving your hand.
"sukuna."
"don't start."
"four in the morning?"
"couldn't sleep." he said it like it was nothing, like it wasn't a confession, but you knew him too well to let it slide.
you turned in sukuna’s arms, just enough to look at his face, and what you saw there made your chest ache; dark circles under his eyes, barely visible in the phosphorescent light but definitely there. a certain tightness around his mouth that he only got when he was running on empty.
"baby," you said softly, and his expression flickered, cracked, just a little. "why couldn't you sleep?"
sukuna looked away a second time, jaw working, and his hand naturally found yours under the table, fingers interlacing, squeezing once, hard.
"just didn't. it's fine."
"it's not fine. you need to take care of yourself."
"i take care of myself."
"baby, you eat protein bars for dinner and stay up until four in the morning writing papers you could have written during normal human hours."
you cupped sukuna’s face with your free hand, thumb brushing over his cheekbone, and he leaned into the touch like something starved finally finding warmth.
"that's not taking care of yourself. that's surviving."
sukuna didn't say anything for a long moment, he just looked at you, with those eyes that everyone else found so terrifying.
you'd never understood that.
his eyes were just eyes — intense, sure, and the color was unusual, but all you saw when you looked at him was the person who remembered to bring you water when you studied, the person who carried your groceries even when you insisted you could do it yourself, the person who'd stayed up with you until three in the morning last week, not because you'd asked him to, but because you'd had a terrible nightmare and he'd felt it through the wall between your apartments and had shown up at your door in his boxers with a glass of water and a quiet "you okay?"
"i'm not good at this," sukuna finally said, and his voice was rough, scraped raw around the edges. "the whole... being a person thing. i'm not good at it."
"you're good at it with me."
"yeah?
and there it was — that flicker of vulnerability, there and gone so fast you almost missed it. the reminder that beneath all the tattoos and the resting bitch face and the reputation that preceded him like a shadow, ryomen sukuna was just a guy; a guy who didn't know how to take care of himself but would burn the world down to take care of you, a guy who'd learned how to be soft not because you'd asked him to, but because you'd looked at him like he was already soft and he'd wanted so desperately to live up to that.
"yeah," you said, and you kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and brief. "now put your head down. i'm gonna finish this chapter, and you're gonna nap for twenty minutes."
"i don't nap."
"you do now."
sukuna stared at you for a beat, two beats, and then, with a sigh that was mostly for show, he folded his arms on the table and laid his head down, cheek resting on his forearm, and his other hand stayed wrapped around yours, thumb still tracing those absent patterns on your skin.
"twenty minutes," he mumbled, already sounding drowsy. "not a second more."
"whatever you say, baby."
sukuna's eyes drifted closed, and the last thing he saw before sleep pulled him under was you, bent over your notes, highlighter in hand, wearing his hoodie and looking like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
across the library, someone's jaw was still on the floor.
the pink hydro flask sat between them like a promise, condensation beading on its surface, and sukuna — scary, shitty, tattooed sukuna — smiled in his sleep, just a little, because your thumb was tracing patterns back.
Plastic eggs in every shade of pink, lavender, yellow and mint green peeked from behind rose bushes, nestled in the crook of tree branches, half hidden beneath the garden bench.
Your daughter darted across the fresh spring grass in her Easter dress, her basket swinging wildly as she spotted another egg behind the hydrangeas.
"SEVENTEEN!" she shrieked, holding it up proudly before shoving it into her collection before sprinting toward another.
And there, standing beside you on the back porch with his arms crossed and a look of barely concealed suffering on his face, was the most feared being to ever walk the earth, your terrifying husband, Ryomen Sukuna.
Wearing a pair of fuzzy pink bunny ears.
A giggle escaped you before you could stop it.
Then another.
You'd slipped them onto his head while he was distracted watching his daughter nearly faceplant into the koi pond, and the look he gave you when he realized what you'd done could have curdled milk.
"Are you finished, woman?" he asked, voice flat.
"I'm sorry- I'm sorry-" You wheezed, trying to catch your breath, 'It's just- you look so-"
"Choose your next words very carefully."
"-cute."
Big and scary and covered in tattoos and wearing BUNNY EARS-
Another laugh bubbled up, and his eyes narrowed.
Cute, he thought, jaw ticking. She calls me cute. The woman has a death wish.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, something warm curled in his chest at the sound of your laughter- bright and unguarded, the kind of joy he'd spent his whole life convinced he'd never inspire in anyone.
"That so?"
In one fluid motion, he plucked the ears off his head. You expected him to crush them, maybe toss them into the yard, but instead-
"Think they'd look much better on you."
The ears settled onto your head before you could protest, and suddenly Sukuna's hands were on your hips, pulling you against him until your back pressed against his chest. The hard line of his cock -already half interested, the bastard- ground against the curve of your ass through your sundress.
"There we go," he purred against your ear, and god, you could hear the smirk in his voice, "my pretty little rabbit."
"Sukuna-" You glanced toward the yard where your daughter was currently trying to climb into a bush after a particularly well hidden egg, "she's right there-"
"She's busy." His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, and you shivered despite the warm spring air, "And you know what happens to little rabbits who tease wolves?"
His hand found the hem of your sundress. Fingers brushing your bare thigh -feather light, teasing- before sliding upward with agonizing slowness. The fabric bunched as he went, inching higher, higher, until his palm was dangerously close to the thin cotton of your panties.
Easter fucking Sunday, he thought, thumb tracing circles on your inner thigh, and she's out here looking like a goddamn snack. Sundress. Bare legs. Those stupid cute ears. How's a man supposed to behave?
"Wolves eat them right up," he finished, voice dropping to that low rasp that always made your knees weak.
You could feel his lips hovering just above your neck- so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, the promise of his tongue-
"DADDY! DADDY, LOOK!"
Your daughter came barreling across the lawn, basket bouncing, face flushed with excitement-
And then her foot caught on absolutely nothing.
She went down hard, knees hitting grass, basket tumbling, eggs scattering across the lawn.
Sukuna's eye twitched.
His hand was already off your thigh, body tensing to move-
But before he could take a single step, she popped back up like a spring loaded jack-in-the-box, grass stains on her knees and a golden egg clutched in both hands.
"I'M OKAY!" She barreled up the porch steps like she hadn't just eaten dirt two seconds ago.
Sukuna froze mid motion...
This fucking kid, he thought, eye still twitching, is going to give me a heart attack before she's ten. Takes after her mother. Reckless. Clumsy. Absolutely no self preservation instincts-
"Look what I found!" She held up the large golden egg like it was the Holy Grail, completely unbothered by her spectacular wipeout. "It's the SPECIAL one! The big gold one! It was hidden in the birdhouse and I almost didn't see it but then the sun made it all shiny and-" She paused, tilting her head at you. "Mommy, why are you wearing bunny ears?"
Sukuna's chest rumbled with silent laughter against your back, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders now that his little disaster child was upright and unharmed.
"Because," he said smoothly, finally releasing you and crouching down to his daughter's level, "Mommy's my little rabbit. And do you know what Daddy is?"
She scrunched her nose, thinking hard, "...The Easter Bunny?"
"The big bad wolf." He bared his teeth in a grin that made her giggle instead of flinch- because to her, he was just Daddy, not a monster, not a curse, just the man who scared the monsters and hid golden eggs in birdhouses and carried her on his shoulders when her legs got tired.
"Wolves don't go with Easter, Daddy." She rolled her eyes with all the exasperated wisdom of a six year old.
"You should be a bunny too." She thrust the golden egg into his hands and turned to sprint back into the yard, "I'm gonna find ALL of them before the timer goes off! WATCH ME!"
"Oi!" Sukuna barked, straightening up, "Slow the fuck down before you-"
"I'm NOT gonna trip again, Daddy!"
She made it exactly three steps before her foot caught on the edge of the garden border.
Down she went. Again. Basket flying. Eggs scattering. A spectacular faceplant into the soft grass right beside the birdbath.
Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose.
Definitely takes after her mother.
"I'M OKAY!" She scrambled up, snatched her basket, and kept running like nothing happened, "THAT ONE DOESN'T COUNT!"
You pressed your lips together, trying desperately not to laugh at the long suffering expression on your husband's face.
"She's fiiiiine," you offered.
"She's a goddamn disaster." But there was no heat in it. Just exhaustion. And underneath that -buried deep where he thought you couldn't see it- pure, helpless adoration.
He turned back to you, "Tonight," he said, reaching out to adjust one of your bunny ears, "when the brats asleep... I'm gonna eat you alive."
"is that a threat?"
"That's a fucking guarantee." He pressed a quick, hard kiss to your mouth -there and gone- then turned toward the yard with a grunt, already moving to shadow his disaster of a daughter before she could break an ankle.
You watched him go, heart still racing, thighs still tingling from where his hand had been.
Across the yard, your daughter grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the fence to help her reach an egg that was "definitely too high up and you're tall so you HAVE to get it Daddy, it's the rules."
He let her.
Let this tiny human boss him around like she owned him- because in a way, she did. You both did.
୨୧ ― The playground falls silent when Sukuna’s shadow darkens the entrance.
Six foot four of raw muscle and barely contained violence, his black fitted shirt strained against broad shoulders. Scarred knuckles told stories of shattered jaws and walls alike. The tattoos that snake up his arms and across his face, ancient markings that ward away anyone foolish enough to cross him. Three prison stints. Fourteen confirmed hospitalizations of those who dared cross his path. And whispers… dark, unsettling rumors, of bodies that were never found.
But, cradled against his chest -those same hands that have crushed windpipes- holds his little girl, five years old with eyes just like his. She clutches her plastic watering can painted with daisies, her other hand firmly gripping Sukuna’s shirt like she’s taming a beast.
"Down Papa! My flowers are thirsty!!" she demands, completely unfazed by her father whose mere presence makes grown men piss themselves…
"Tch. Such a brat, just like your mother." Sukuna growls, the same tone that makes other parents clutch their kids a little tighter when he walks by, but the girl laughs and squeals with delight as he swings her around and sets her down.
The other parents keep their distance, their fear of Sukuna quite palpable, fueled by the whispers that cling to his name like a curse. But they watch- oh how they watch. Their eyes following him, as if expecting him to do something to prove the rumors true. Sukuna notices, a cruel smile splitting his face, revealing teeth, "What're you looking at?" he snarls at a gawking teenager, who stumbles backward in terror.
Their fear amuses him, but their opinions? Worthless.
He doesn’t care what they think, doesn’t care what they say.
He isn’t here for them anyway. He’s here for one reason, to make sure no one’s foolish enough to lay a hand on his little girl. If anyone dares, if anyone is stupid enough to try, they’ll see it firsthand. They’ll realize the stories don’t even scratch the surface. He’ll show them exactly why they should fear him- why calling him a monster is an insult to what he truly is.
"Papa! Look!" his little girl holds up a tiny daisy, "This one's for you! It's a gift, from me to you." She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling and full of love, as if he doesn’t scare the shit out of everyone else.
His face, usually frozen in a permanent scowl, softens imperceptibly, "Put it back in the ground, kid. Flowers need to grow..."
"Nooo," she pouts, "Mama gave me more seeds to plant and this one told me it wants to be with you!" She reaches up, impossibly small hand extended.
"Stubborn little-," he mutters as he crouches down, allowing her to tuck the flower behind his ear.
"See, now you're pretty just like the garden and mama!" She beams at him, her arms spread wide in a dramatic gesture of pride.
For a split second his eyes widen, surprised at the words coming out of her mouth. Pretty? Him? "I'm not pretty…" he growls, but doesn't remove the flower.
"You are to me," she says softly before wrapping her little arms around his neck, squeezing him tight and kissing him on his tatted cheek, "I love you, Papa."
Sukuna feels his heart skip a beat, then two, his throat tightening as the words leave his little brats lips. He can't bring himself to say it back- not here… He can't form the words he desperately wants to say…
Instead, his rough hands wrap around her, one hand on the back of her head, the other pressing her into his shoulder, "Yeah yeah…" His grip is gentle, almost tentative, like she might disappear if he squeezes too hard, "Me too…"
He feels her lips curl into a smile against him, and it's the only answer he needs. She understands, just like you do, the way he shows his love instead of saying it.
"C'mon," he ruffles her hair, "your mother will have my ass if I don't get us home." He takes her hand, fingers engulfing hers.
"Don't worry, Papa, the flowers will protect us!!"
As they walk home, her tiny hand disappearing in his massive one, Sukuna still wears the bloom behind his ear. A passing man stares a bit too long for Sukuna’s liking and receives a glare promising slow, creative violence if he doesn't look away immediately.
But his daughter just swings their joined hands, chattering about which seeds she'll plant next, completely unafraid of the monster whose reputation makes hardened criminals wake in cold sweats.
She is his one weakness, though he'd gut anyone who suggested it.
And he is her guardian- her hero, and she reminds him daily.
The fearsome Sukuna, brought to his knees by a little girl who talks to flowers.
with marriage it seemed that the level of sukuna’s possessiveness had heightened.
he held onto you tighter, snarked at anybody who dared to look at you too long and was always attached to you when going out. you didn’t dare question it, you did secretly enjoyed it.
“who did this to you” a boom in his voice, a certain tenderness, it only made sense for him to question the current marks on your skin.
you’re holding baby!yuji, trying to soothe him, he’s whining restless, his little chubby cheeks flushed and stained with tears.
“what?” you look up, catching sukuna’s gaze, exhaustion painted your features, your hair a bit disheveled, yet you were so beautiful in his eyes.
“give him here” sukuna offered, grabbing yuji by his armpits, “what is the reason behind those marks” he jutted his chin towards the bite marks littering your neck and arms.
“he’s teething, it’s making him irritable” you shrug.
sukuna stares at the squirming baby, his little face scrunched and damp with drool.
“teething..” he says as if deep in thought.
[exhibit a]
later that day, he brings in a wooden object dropping it onto the table infront of you.
“is that a teether?” you pick it up admiring the shape and the well rounded curves as if carved with much detail and thought.
“the problem is biting, this will solve it” you listen to your husband’s explanation, admiring his ability in hand carving this tool.
yuji takes the teether from you, stares at it and then drops it.
“tch, brat.”
[exhibit b]
the next day, you walk into the room and stop dead in your tracks.
“what…is that”
in sukuna’s hand is something that you don’t recognize, but with the ominous aura emanating from it you can tell it’s clearly not a baby item.
“i improved it”
you gasp, cupping your mouth “it’s a cursed object isn’t it?”
“it is durable” your husband doesn’t budge.
“that is absolutely not going in his mouth”
yuji giggles, making grabby hands towards it.
your son was a traitor.
you snatch it out of his hands, “no” you warn.
sukuna clicks his tongue, visibly annoyed “you deny him effective tools and then complain when he bites you, wife”
“i would rather be bitten than let him chew on something that might kill him!”
sukuna waves a dismissive hand,
“he is my son, it would not kill him” he states as if unbeknownst to the fragility of toddlers especially his own.
“that is NOT reassuring” you huff, throwing away said cursed object. such things had no place in your household, not on your watch.
[exhibit c]
later that evening, yuji is worse, fussier, clingier, with drool soaking through his clothes.
you coo, rocking him in your arms, trying to distract him but he continues to whine, little sobs breaking through making your heart clench at the sight.
you look over at your husband, exhausted “i don’t know what to do..”
sukuna watches for a moment, then having made some decision, “give him here”
“are you sure?” you murmur.
his expression darkens, “do you question me over my own spawn”
“yes?”
he takes yuji anyway, at first the fuss continues. yuji whines and scrunches up his eyes and then as if moved by an invisible force he grabs onto sukuna’s hand.
chomp-
you try to warn him but it’s too late, yuji hums happily gnawing on your husband’s finger, tiny gums working with surprising force.
sukuna’s entire body goes rigid and you brace yourself, for him to pull away or get annoyed or something.
yet he doesn’t, he just sits there staring at his son that’s latched onto his finger.
“this is highly inefficient” he comments, yuji makes a small content noise, still nibbling.
sukuna’s shoulders relax and so do yours in tandem,
“are you just gonna let him do that, kuna?”
“it is effective”
looking at baby!yuji’s calm expression you suppress a giggle, “well i guess this works”
your chest softens as sukuna remarks,
“strong bite” as if assessing his son’s strength.
yuji’s response is to simply bite down harder, sukuna’s eye twitches at the sting but he doesn’t pull away.
firefly; this is based entirely off of my younger brother, we have an eight year age gap and so he’d bite me a lot when he was teething lol (＃＞＜) ಿ
sinners but giving up on being a human is nothing compared to life without your husband
I'll be in a minute, he said. Baby, don't worry, I'll take the car and we'll go back home.
But when Suguru left the barn, he didn't know what would happen mere minutes later.
He didn't know that some strange people would try to get inside, and dear neighbours who used to visit your little shop would suddenly turn mad.
"A vampires," Shoko murmured, staring at the man you've just killed.
His head cracked open by a hammer that Gojo brought upon it, and bloodshot eyes still staring at your trembling figure.
"A what?" Utahime asked, trying to lurk outside the barn, before Shoko quickly pulled her back in.
"You can't go out, they may be everywhere," she hissed, looking at everyone in the circle.
You, Satoru with blood smeared over his cheek, Choso walking back and forth in nervousness, Utahime choking on a cry, Sukuna looking for the guns and bullets and Toji, grabbing an axe from the basement.
"So what do we do?" Satoru asked, trying to clean his crimson cheeks with a flannel shirt.
Shoko frowned, glancing over her shoulder as if trying to assess the shitshow you've just found yourself in.
Your local witch. Shaman. A hag, as some old fucks liked to call her. But the only one who kept a clear mind.
"Gather the garlic, crosses and silver – anything you can find," her voice was stern, and eyes went back to the rest of you. "And on no account talk to them or invite them in."
Everyone started to scramble, walking around the barn and barricading the doors, just to close yourself off from the those devils.
"W-wait," you cried, grabbing her hand. "Suguru, what about Suguru? He went to the car and–"
"And you should hope he's back home," Satoru murmured, looking somewhere over your shoulder.
As if waiting for the raven-haired man to turn the corner any minute.
Your cheeks burned in anger, fists clenched. "He's my husband, I cannot leave him."
Satoru frowned, his eyes reflecting the same pain that filled yours. "And he's my best friend. But do you think we have another option?"
You stood face to face, both huffing and puffing while the chaos around you erupted.
How was it possible that within the mere hours everything suddenly turned upside down?
Just a while ago, Suguru's hands were still on your hips, swaying you both softly to the gentle hum of the piano. Dark hair swinging every time he swirled you, heavy smell of cologne hugging your body sweetly, homely, as if the world ended at the end of his fingertips. He laughed jolly, till his chest trembled and warm breath tickled your ear. Your lovely giggles made his eyes curve like a moon, and fingers dug softly into his plush hair.
As long as it was two of you, the rest didn't matter.
The opening of the new bar in your small town was meant to help you blow off some steam.
With singers and dancing, Gojo behind the piano and Sukuna serving disgustingly strong drinks.
With empty rooms where you secretly shared kisses, drunkenly, madly in love, while Suguru's hands drifted over your body. The curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, honeyed moans he swallowed every time you clenched around his length and giggled softly in fear someone would her you.
But no one did.
Because no one mattered as much as him.
So how–
"Hi baby."
Everyone suddenly froze.
You, with your back turned towards the barn door. Satoru, with his ocean eyes, looking over your shoulder. Shoko gripping a bunch of garlic, and Sukuna pointing the rifle at your husband.
You turned slowly, seeing Suguru walking towards the bar with one hand in his pocket and the other swirling car keys around the finger. He looked normal, healthy, with the same handsome smile and deep purplish eyes tracing your cherry cheeks. Dressed in a clean, white shirt, with sleeves rolled up through his muscular forearms and hair kissed gently by a night's wind.
"Baby, come on. It's time to go home."
Your feet started moving, and a hand reached out, as if something in your bones reacted instinctively to your husband's gentle call.
But before you took a step, Satoru pulled you back.
"Satoru–"
"Let him come inside willingly," he whispered, careful not to make a direct invite.
Suguru came closer, with a smile not leaving his face and a chuckle bubbling in his throat. You looked at his relaxed body, with long legs drawing nearer and nearer, creamy skin coated in droplets of sweat after hours of dancing, until he... stopped.
"Baby, I thought you were tired," he laughed, tilting head. A few black strands nuzzled against his cheeks.
"I am, but..." come inside, you wanted to say, but Satoru tightened his grip on your wrist.
"But what? Let's go, we still have a long way to go."
You glanced back, seeing your friends standing still, as if awaiting the sentence. Shoko walked to your side, throwing a single head of garlic his way.
A whitish ball rolled on the ground, stopping near Suguru's leather shoes.
"Shoko, what are you doing?" he asked with amusement. "Why is everyone so–"
"Take it," she said.
Suguru frowned. "Why?"
"Just take it."
His raven hair shook, but body dipped down, taking a dirty ball between fingers. "And what now?"
Yeah, what now?
Shoko didn't know.
None of you knew.
Because him not reacting hurtfully to garlic could mean two things:
One, he truly wasn't a vampire, and you needed to take him in quickly.
And two, the vampires of this sort were much more powerful than Shoko expected.
You turned her way. "Should we–"
"No, he must come inside willingly," Shoko murmured, glancing at Suguru carefully.
He threw the garlic away, sighing in irritation. "Baby, what's going on? Let's go, I'm getting tired too."
You shuddered as your heart tore apart under his pledging gaze.
There was something wrong.
But wrong in the way the world sometimes goes quiet before a storm, when even the air feels a little heavier.
Suguru stood there, just a few steps away from the barn doors, shoulders slightly slumped with exhaustion, hair damp against his neck. He looked like he always did after a long day – a little tired, a little impatient, entirely yours.
"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" he muttered. "It’s cold, I’m tired, and you’re all staring at me like I grew a second head."
"Sugu, I... how about we stay for a while, hm? I'm a bit thirsty, you see," you said softly, fiddling with your fingers.
His head tilted, jaw clenched. "Oh, really?"
There was a moment of silence, with his eyes tracing yours – glassy, shattered, hopeful.
"Then why don't you invite me for a drink, baby?"
Oh. How much you've hoped to not hear those words.
To keep believing that your husband was still yours, watching you with the same loving gaze and warm smile that slashed through your heart.
"Baby," he said more quietly now, "why are you shaking?"
You hadn’t realized you were.
Your hands trembled at your sides, breath uneven, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.
Because now you saw it.
The stillness.
The way his chest didn’t quite move.
The way the cold seemed to cling to him, like he had carried something back from wherever he had been.
"You’re not coming in," your head shook, eyes clamped down, as if looking at your husband was too hurtful. Satoru embraced you, slowly, slowly, pulling you away from the doors.
Suguru frowned, biting down the laugh that tried to push through his lips. "Satoru, I think you're forgetting yourself."
"Sorry, man," he whispered, tightening hands on your shoulders. "Sukuna, could you?"
The man came closer, with a rifle directed right at your husband.
Your eyes suddenly widened, breath hitched, head pounded, as if hit by a hammer.
No.
No, no, no, no.
Before Sukuna could pull the trigger, you released yourself from Satoru's merciless grip and run towards the door.
Toward your Suguru.
"Wait!" Shoko tried to grab you, but everything happened too fast.
The shooting, your scream, Suguru's widening eyes.
A sudden pain piercing your chest, feet slipping outside the barn and finally, finally, those warm arms that grabbed you before Satoru could.
For a moment, there was no sound.
No gunshot echo, no screaming, no Shoko calling your name.
Just him.
Suguru.
Holding you.
Behind you, chaos erupted again – Satoru shouting, Shoko cursing, Sukuna lowering the rifle with a quiet, almost annoyed click – but it all blurred into nothing.
Because Suguru was looking at you like you were dying.
"Hey, baby," he tried to smile, pulling you closer to his chest. Cold fingers pushed away lost strands from your forehead, thumb circling over your pale lips. "Baby, what's wrong? Hey, talk to me, hm?" his voice broke, hands trembling as they pressed against your back, your side, your chest – where it hurt.
His hands shook harder as he tried to find the wound, to stop the bleeding, to fix something he didn’t understand.
But you saw it.
The truth.
In the way his skin felt colder than it should.
In the way his breath didn’t quite match yours.
In the way your pulse felt too loud.
Too bright.
Too alive against something that wasn’t.
Your fingers curled tighter into him. "Suguru…"
He glanced at you instantly.
With those oh so lovely eyes, now slightly wet and shimmering, as if cursed by the stars themselves. Your hand lifted up, pushing away raven hair that stuck to his forehead.
"I don’t think…" your voice faltered, breath hitching painfully. "I don’t think I can stay."
His expression shattered.
"No," he whispered sharply, with a slow shake of his head and first tears dripping down your chin. "No, baby, it's fine. It's okay, I'll help you, hm? Let me just bite you," you shuddered, as if in protest, but Suguru closed your lips with a gentle kiss. "Don't worry, it won't hurt. Baby it won't hurt, I promise."
Before you could answer, another voice chipped in. "Don't listen to him! You'll be damned for eternal life," Shoko's head dipped slightly from the barn. "You'll never again feel the warmth of the sun, never eat anything but human flesh. It's better to die than–"
Your crimson hand traced Suguru's pale cheek, smearing the blood all over his velvety skin. He looked beautiful, mesmerising, almost the same as just a few hours ago, while dancing with you, surrounded by nothing but deep laughter and music.
You giggled, remembering his shiny eyes and hands that swirled your body like a doll. Hips swinging to soft piano and head nuzzling against your neck. The sweetest kisses traced down your skin, before your soft laughter tickled his nerves pleasantly.
"I'd rather be damned than go through this life without you," you whispered, tracing his crushed expression.
He gripped your hand, pushing it against his lips. Soft kisses melted away all the pain that withered in your chest. Purplish eyes tried to memorise your lovely face, fingers pulling you closer to his chest, heart... not beating.
But deep down, you knew that he was still your husband.
Your Suguru.
With eyes curving like a moon and a gentle, weeping smile crossing his face. Raven hair curling around your face like a curtain, when he lowered down. Lips catching yours in a sweet, metallic kiss, almost as lovely as one you shared on your wedding day.
And now, he could be yours forever. As long as rays of sunshine stayed hidden, the world had not barriers.
Although yours would always end up somewhere between the end of his fingertips and deep laughter that inflamed your heart.
"Then let us both be damned," he whispered.
I absolutely loveeeed the scene with Bo and his wife in the Sinners. Although I would definitely come back to him lmao.
୨୧ — Every damn morning like clockwork, 5:45 AM. Tiny fingers pry one of Sukuna’s eyelids open, a small face hovering inches from his own. Her hair still wild from sleep, cheeks flushed with excitement, "Papa! Wake up!" Small hands nudging him while clutching her pink brush and collection of scrunchies against her pjs, "Hair time!"
Sukuna clicked his tongue, a massive hand engulfing her tiny face as he gently pushed her back, "Go back to bed, brat."
"Nooooo!" She whined, pushing his hand off her face and climbing onto his broad back, "You promised!"
With a displeased groan, he rolls over, causing her to slide off his back with a delighted squeal. Sitting up while running a hand through his own disheveled hair, he looks at the brat he helped create with a scowl, "Gimme that," he grumbles, snatching the brush from her.
She scrambles into his lap, her small back pressed against his chest, practically vibrating with excitement. Sukuna couldn’t relate, it was early… too early, like always. He looks down at the top of her head and mutters under his breath, "She was supposed to be a boy..."
Propping yourself up on one elbow, you trace your fingers over his the tattoos that decorate his warm arm, "You say that every morning," you tease him softly.
"Because it's true every morning," he fires back, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward. Awkwardly, he begins working through her tangles, his calloused hands- hands that at times come home bloody, now trying to be gentle with his daughter's delicate scalp.
"Ooww! Papa!!! You're pulling!"
"Stay still then..." he grunts, trying again with more care, "Your hair's a damn mess." As he brushes through her strands, he couldn't help but think how absurd this was- he was Sukuna Ryomen, the fucking guy who’s got everyone pissing their pants in fear… The guy who was born out of bloodshed, who's never had a single care for the lives he's taken. How the hell did he end up with a little girl, a wife, and a home? … His eyes softened as they narrowed, how the hell did he find himself fearing for this tiny things future- the day she's old enough to be married off to a man like him…?
He’s grown soft…
But it doesn't mean he won't rip out the throat of any man who dares lay a finger on her...
You watch, warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of Sukuna struggling, being utterly defeated by a five year old's bedhead, "Want me to take over-"
"No!" both father and daughter respond in unison, making you throw your hands up in surrender before they decide to kick you out of bed.
"I got this," Sukuna insists, his fingers, more accustomed to handling weapons and violence than hair accessories, fumbling with the thin strands. His brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to separate her hair into sections. How the fuck was he supposed to make three even parts again?
Your daughter looks over at you, wholesome pride in her eyes. This was their thing- this morning struggle that somehow means everything to both of them. Even if Sukuna doesn't admit it, he loves being the protective girl dad... enjoys feeling needed and special in this way.
You lean against his bare shoulder as you watch him separate her hair into three uneven sections, trying to remember how braiding works. The girl in his lap patiently waits with the biggest smile, offering encouraging words as if she's the adult coaching the child.
"Papa! Papa! Like this! Over not under, remember? You did it yesterday!"
"Yesterday I fucked it up too." he mumbles, starting over for a third time.
When he finally manages something resembling a braid, secured with her favorite sparkly leopard scrunchie, she hops off his lap to examine his work in the bathroom mirror. You take the opportunity to press a kiss to Sukuna’s shoulder, then his neck, then the corner of his mouth, "Looks like you're getting better~."
"Don't start what you can't finish," he warns, his voice dropping lower as he turns to catch your lips properly. His hand coming up to squeeze your cheek possessively.
Your daughter returns before you could respond, beaming despite the crooked, messy braid that's already coming undone at the bottom, "Perect! Thank you, Papa!"
Sukuna breaks away from you, looking down at her, at this tiny little being who fears nothing about him... not his size, not his tattoos, not how he puts the fear of god in her preschool teacher. She sees only her papa, the man who makes her burnt pancakes and braids her hair poorly.
The man who protects you- her mother, and would do anything for her. The man who would secretly die for her…
Placing his hand on the top of her head, he gives it a little ruffle, "Yeah kid... perfect."
HOUSE RULES⠀─── ⠀Your daughter's friend always heard from her that her parents are disgustingly in love. She doubts it after watching you and Sukuna interacting.
The girl had heard many stories about her friend’s parents.
“You don’t understand,” she had said more than a million times, “my parents are, like, disgustingly in love. It’s embarrassing.”
She had expected something cringey. Kisses in the kitchen. Maybe matching mugs. Some middle-aged couple nonsense. Something wholesome, like in one of those old movies.
She hadn’t expected… this.
She stood awkwardly near the front door, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack. She felt slightly suffocated, as if the walls had eyes and all of them were staring at her.
A deep voice echoed through the house and she swallowed hard, glancing toward the kitchen, where her friend was calmly chewing her toast as if it were just another normal day.
“Are you blind?” Ryomen cleared his throat, one hand on his hip and the other lifting a small yogurt bottle to his mouth, his eyes fixed on his wife. “That’s not how you cut them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” For a moment, the girl thought you were actually apologizing, but judging by the way you stabbed the poor fruit with the knife, it was easy to predict what would come next. “Next time I’ll ask for permission from the master chef before touching a knife.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. It was the kind that showed too many teeth. Almost mocking.
“You really should,” he replied, taking another sip of yogurt as if he were completely relaxed, as if his wife didn’t have her hand dangerously close to a knife. “Because clearly you lack the motor coordination.”
You slowly turned your body, leaning your hip against the counter and crossing your arms, your lips parting to retort. “It’s just a fruit.”
“Presentation matters.” He shrugged.
“Then cut it yourself.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Are you admitting your incompetence?”
“I’m offering you an opportunity, coward.”
“Right—“ Sukuna’s gaze shifted, his eyes landing on the visitor near the door. “Who’s that.” His expression was terrifying to the poor girl.
“My friend, dad.” The teenager took one last sip of coffee and stood up. “She’s walking to school with me.”
“You brought someone into my house without asking for my permission first?” Sukuna placed the yogurt bottle on the counter and crossed his arms.
“That ‘someone’ is her friend,” you interrupted. “And the house is ours. I allowed it. Stop making a scene.” Your voice lowered slightly, as if trying to spare the poor girl from feeling even more embarrassed and intimidated.
“But she didn’t ask permission—”
“I asked mom. She’s the one who decides, anyway,” your daughter said, placing her plate in the sink and grabbing her backpack from the chair.
He let out a low “hm” through his nose.
“Of course,” he murmured, uncrossing his arms only to rest his hands on the counter behind him, leaning his weight back with an almost irritating calmness. “You hide behind your mother’s authority.”
“Sure, sure,” the teenager rolled her eyes, already pulling her friend by the arm toward the door.
“Sweetheart,” you said, your voice softer than anything you had used in the past few minutes. “Aren’t you going to be late? Your father can give you two a ride.”
“I don’t—”
“We’re fine! Thank you so much!” the friend answered far too quickly, dragging your daughter outside.
Ryomen’s gaze returned to you. “Did you see her behavior? In my time, children who challenged their parents learned—”
“You’re too talkative today,” you replied. “And don’t complain, you’re the one who spoiled her.”
He scoffed, leaning over and hugging you from behind.
As the two girls walked side by side, the friend cleared her throat.
“Are they… okay?”
“They’re like that,” she replied. “Gross, right? Imagine listening to that flirting every single day.”
₍^. .^₎⟆ synopsis: it's only a month long work trip to new york. but husband!nanami misses his wife so much that it's affecting his mood, his sleep, his eating, his... everything. is 10 days too early for his friends to call you back to tokyo?
tags: husband!nanami x wife!reader; grumpy x sunshine trope; down bad/love sick!nanami, so much fluff it'll make your head hurt, humor (lots), gojo/geto/shoko being good friends, modern AU
word count: 5.6k
DAY 1
when gojo sees the newest intern leave nanami's office with flushed cheeks and tears sitting on the bottom of their lashes, gojo figures it's time to intervene.
he doesn't bother the knock - as part of the perks of being the CEO's best friend and comfortable position as CFO, one could say - as he strolls into nanami's office without a care in the world. nanami, on the other hand, remains scowling and face obscured behind mountains of paperwork and the comically large computer screen.
"kento." gojo sing songs, raising two cups of coffee in nanami's direction. the blonde doesn't even raise his eyes from the computer, exhaustion and annoyance etched into his taut skin.
"what."
nanami's tone is icy and sharp, laced with venom and a clear edge that would make anyone else in the firm tense. gojo chooses to breeze past it, however, setting down a cup right next to nanami and sitting on the only empty space left on the desk with a smirk.
"you're in a good mood today." he drawls sarcastically.
nanami's eyes flicker down to the coffee then to gojo's smirk, his scowl deepening.
"i don't want coffee. also, off."
gojo rolls his eyes.
"c'mon, kendoll, it's not like i'm actually sitting on anything important-"
nanami's wired glasses are whipped off of his face in a millisecond, honey brown eyes darkening to bloody brown as he stares gojo down.
"i said. off."
it's spoken with such finality that not even gojo can think of a retort back, pulling a sour face before sliding off the mahogany desk and into the velvet chair across from nanami instead. the taller man just blinks, lets out a frustrated sigh, then resumes his fervent typing on the computer. it only hits gojo now how unnaturally dark the office is, every curtain pulled shut with only peeks of sunlight shining through the miniscule blinds of the office window.
gojo takes the silence as an opportunity to get a proper look at his friend - nanami's face looks more sunken in then usual. his skin color a bit pale, perhaps from the lack of sunlight, the frown on his lips permanent as he re-highlights something on a case bundle. his blazer has been messily disregarded on a sofa nearby alongside his briefcase, where a bento box sits untouched. the cuffs of nanami's white shirt have been rolled up to around his elbows, his tie loosely hanging from his neck (and gojo watches as every few seconds nanami scowls and readjusts his tie, mumbling that the fabric is itchy). his usually perfectly styled blonde curls are sticking out in odd directions, and the office trash can sitting nearby has an array of gum wrappers and take out coffee cups piling up.
gojo lets out a slow breath - yikes. this is worse than i thought.
"you sure about the coffee?" he gestures, pointing vaguely to the steaming flat white still next to nanami. the blonde doesn't even flinch.
"yes. i only drink green tea after 3pm, christ's sake." nanami grumbles, testing even gojo's patience.
"well how the fuck was i supposed to know that?" gojo asks sarcastically, crossing one leg over another. something momentarily shifts in nanami's eyes, before his eyebrows furrow in focus on the document in front of him.
"(y/n) would know."
it's mumbled like a whisper, like a petulant admission of a toddler being denied time to play. gojo thinks back to the voice memo you sent him this morning, promising to bring him back pastries from new york on your way back.
it all clicks for gojo.
a part of him wants to laugh at his friend for how immature nanami's being, for allowing a momentary absence of you to color his decision making and personality at work. but another part of gojo finds it... deeply amusing.
especially when he thinks back to how much he had to nag nanami to finally cave in and ask you out all those years ago, instead of always spending 30 minutes more than necessary at the gym to try and catch a glimpse of you before work.
"i see... all this attitude at work because your wife is halfway across the world for a month?"
that catches nanami's attention, the man's hands dropping down onto his lap as a deep scarlet flush spreads through his cheeks.
"it's not that simple."
the smirk on gojo's face only gets wider.
"mmmm, i think it is just that simple. you were completely fine before she had to fly off-" gojo makes it a point to flex his wrist to stare at his rolex watch. "five hours ago. and you're already withering, loverboy. slowly declining in physical and mental health."
"i'm a fully grown adult. i'm fine." nanami says through gritted teeth, but it has no effect on gojo who is thoroughly enjoying (a) getting to be right and (b) teasing his best friend for being a hopeless romantic. to dig it in, gojo raises his eyebrows and puts on a pouty expression.
"are you sure, pookie? you don't want me to call her right now and tell her it's an emergency, that she needs to fly back to tokyo this instant?" gojo flashes his phone screen, where your contact is open under 'the better nanami'.
nanami practically lunges across the desk to try and get the phone out of gojo's hands, which gojo manages to dodge at the last second by jumping out of his seat. gojo's laughing so hard he doubles over, chest folded to his knees, and nanami's scowl only deepens.
"haha." nanami laughs along drily, clearly not amused. "anyways, it's a really important trip for her, so i don't want to be a bother. now get out, i have a meeting in 5 minutes."
it was going to be a long month without you.
DAY 4
the tension in the office is palpable, given what's at stake.
geto's been working backbreaking hours for the past month straight to pull the proposal together: an ambitious joint venture to combine the legal banking practice of nanami enterprises with the financial expertise of Japan's second biggest bank. everything had to be perfect. audits were rechecked, investment proposals rewritten, every piece of competition law finely tuned and picked over by the entire banking law team.
and nanami's fumbling during the investor pitch meeting.
it starts out small - like mispronouncing the head of the bank's name, which geto subtly corrects (by shaking the man's hand right after and saying it out loud correctly). losing track of where the specific sections of the agreement are. forgetting to bring a pen to the meeting, with shoko having to slide nanami one under the table and shooting geto a worried look.
'is he okay?' her glance seemed to read, to which geto shrugs in response.
truth be told, geto has no idea what's going on with his boss slash friend. he's worked for nanami for three years, and has never seen the blonde be anything less than textbook professional. every detail perfected, suit immaculately pressed, posture straight and elegant.
and now, the man in front of him still has the 'look' of a professional lawyer... but none of the attitude. instead, nanami looks uncomfortable in his expensive suit, adjusting his posture every few minutes and staring off into the vague distance during pitch decks. geto has to call nanami's name three times before the blonde realizes it's his turn to speak to the investors, and it takes every bone in geto's body to suppress a sigh.
"and so if we proceed as planned, i believe we could acquire the high street banks in this area for 4.7 million-"
"sorry for interrupting, but we were told that the valuation was 47 million. not 4.7." one of the investors cuts nanami off, a deepening frown on his face.
nanami's head whipped around to shoko, who nervously adjusts her blazer and adds that the correct figure should be 47 million as well. geto wordlessly slides open the bundle of documents to double check the accounts, then at nanami's pitch deck, and realizes that nanami has somehow managed to delete a zero.
fuck.
maintaining a poker face as nanami lets out a polite apology to the board, geto thumbs through the rest of the presentation whilst cross referencing with the financial accounts. all the figures are off by one zero in nanami's proposal, as if he didn't catch onto some malfunctioning code in his excel sheet.
the fear that runs up geto's spine is like nothing he ever felt before, and geto has to send a discreet text to gojo about the situation.
geto: "nanami somehow messed up all the figures for today's meeting with the investors. all figures are off by one zero."
gojo: "holy shit!"
gojo: "what do we do?"
geto looks at the blinking white screen, then at nanami's flushed face and the investors' clearly unamused expressions, before making a decision for the team.
geto: "idk, fire alarm?"
he's half joking but also half relieved when the fire alarm rings out across the building, and geto smoothly apologises to the investors for the sudden interruption and promises a prompt rescheduling of the meeting.
and the moment they're both outside, geto pulls nanami aware from the crowd of employees gathering outside the building and into a back alleyway that smells that smoke and grilled meat.
"jesus christ, nanami. what happened?" geto swears out loud, heart still pounding with adrenaline and anger.
nanami fists his hair in response, anxious legs pacing back and forth, before he stops and stares at gojo with the sorriest expression he can muster.
"god, i'm so sorry. i know you've been working on this merger for weeks now."
geto's jaw clenches, but it's hard to stay angry when he sees the pained look on nanami's face. the blonde stops pacing and sits down on a nearby bench, head in his hands, and geto feels his anger dissipate into thin air.
"what's going on, kento?" geto's voice drops into a concerned hum, sitting down carefully next to nanami. nanami's fingers brush through his now messy hair, wedding band catching the glint of the sunlight every few seconds, an anxious habit of his.
"i... i just can't seem to concentrate. o-on anything, lately." he admits, sighing. geto raises his eyebrows.
"any particular reason? this isn't like you, and i'm worried."
he places a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing in appreciation to make his support known. he watches as nanami's eyes flicker up to geto's very cautiously, as if debating with himself on whether to say something.
"i miss my wife."
the admission is soft, tender in the way its spoken but firm in the way nanami's face pulls together in tight pain and desperate longing. geto's worry melts away into something more fond, and nanami lets out an empty laugh.
"it's pathetic, i know. she's only been gone for a few days. but damn it, i-i can't sleep, i can't eat properly, i keep misplacing everything in my office-"
"why don't you call her?" geto gently suggests and nanami retracts.
"i don't want to bother her."
geto rolls his eyes playfully, nudging the blonde's shoulder.
"she's your wife. she signed up to being bothered by you for a lifetime."
"it's also a 13 hour time difference between tokyo and new york." nanami weakly reasons, but geto just whips out his phone and presses your number. "hey, what're yo-"
"geto?" your groggy voice rings out from the other side, and a flush of warmth spreads through nanami's body. your voice. he'd almost forgotten what your voice sounded like (he definitely hadn't, but it sure as hell felt like it) - gentle, warm, sweet like daisies in the summer rain. "is everything alright?"
"just peachy. oh, actually, i forgot something- nanami, you don't mind taking over for me do you?" geto expertly lies, passing off the phone to nanami too quickly for any attempts of escape.
"ken?" you mutter from the other side, slightly more awake. nanami cringes internally - knowing that it's 1am there - but can't help his shoulders from melting at the sound of your voice.
"my love. sorry, did we wake you?"
"it's alright. still having trouble adjusting to the timezone here anyways." you yawn on the other side, and he can practically envision your sleepy expression and the glow of your phone illuminating your face. better than any artwork, he believes. "how are you, babe?"
"tired - today was the day of the investor meeting for the merger."
"oh shit, really? how'd it go?"
nanami opens his mouth to answer, as suddenly the crowd of employees are directed to re-enter the building by a grinning gojo and a smug geto who winks at him from afar, forcing nanami to reconsider his answer on the spot.
"had to reschedule. fire alarm went off."
"the fire alarm?"
he can hear the panic in your voice and kicks himself for making you worry.
"false alarm, love. gojo's telling everyone right now that it's safe to re-enter the building."
"oh, that's good. i'm relieved, i don't want anyone to get hurt."
"i know, darling. promise everyone's fine and taken care of."
you hum on the other side, and he can hear you shifting in bed.
"even yourself?"
"hm?"
you giggle on the other side of the line, and nanami wishes he could record that sound to relive it during the day.
"yourself, ken. are you taking care of yourself?"
he straightens up at your question, embarrassed.
"of course i am. w-why wouldn't i be?"
"a little birdie told me my husband was missing me a bit too much."
"damn it, gojo." nanami covers the phone and swears, cursing his friend for ratting him out.
"and i told the birdie that there was no such thing as missing one's wife too much." you add fondly and nanami sighs into the receiver, before pulling away from the phone and noticing geto's phone is at 5%.
"geto's phone is at 5%, so i think i'll have to get going." nanami pauses, wanting to savour your voice one last time. "i miss you a lot, darling. but i'm so proud of you and all you're doing in new york right now. love you."
"love you so much, kenny. good night."
it physically pains nanami to have to end the call and give back the phone to geto, but he's glad he's managed to speak to you (even for a few minutes). geto smiles up at him, smug and satisfied.
"so? was i right or was i right?"
nanami sheepishly shrugs.
"...thank you, geto. i needed that."
"don't worry bout it. and hey, leave the pitch decks to me - go home early and sleep it off, alright? you still got 25 days to go till she's back."
the number sits heavy in nanami's heart - 25 days - as he tries to muster up a brave smile.
DAY 7
it's a sunday.
it would usually be his favorite day, a day reserved for just him and you: his beautiful wife who rises with the sunlight and smells like cinnamon and vanilla by the time he's brewing coffee in the kitchen. but today, when he reluctantly opens his eyes in bed, the spot next to him is empty. and the pillows don't smell like your shampoo anymore.
worst of all, when he pads out to the kitchen, there's no one to hum pop songs and flip pancakes with.
nanami barely registers the bitter black coffee on his tongue as he flicks over the morning newspaper, the information flying by his eyes with no real comprehension. he can feel a slight headache coming on from staring at his phone too late until 3am last night, rewatching videos of you on the honeymoon until exhaustion won over him.
god, is this how people who have military husbands feel like, he wonders? he just feels... beyond awful. like his whole soul has been sucked dry, the dull ache in his heart only worsening when he'd go to the bathroom and see your perfumes lining the counter, or open the fridge to see your favorite jam sitting untouched on the top shelf. the room is quiet save for the humming of the fridge and his breathing, and suddenly the space feeels far too empty.
the silence doesn't last very long when someone then knocks in rapid succession on the front door, followed by an obnoxious voice.
"NANAMIIIIIIIIIIIII IT IS ME, YOUR LOVERRRRRR-"
"shut the fuck up, gojo, it's 9am on a sunday." geto growls from next to him, as shoko chuckles.
"we brought food from the diner you like." shoko offers from the other side of the door, not knowing whether nanami will actually invite them in. a few awkward seconds pass before the door opens, and nanami's unimpressed face greets the three of them.
"we know you've been really down in the dumps for missing (y/n)-" gojo starts, and nanami's cheeks redden in embarrassment.
"i have not-" he starts, but shoko and geto roll their eyes in perfect sync.
"yes you have." all three of them respond simultaneously.
"i think it's cute." shoko offers, and gojo snickers from next to her.
"well, whatever it is, we're NOT letting you mope around in your apartment on such a nice sunday. so we've-"
"you have." shoko corrects, shaking her head sideways. "it was gojo's idea."
"excuse me, it's a team effort because you two eventually caved. anyways, we've planned out a whole fun day to help you distract yourself from your wife's absence!"
"i don't have a choice, do i?" nanami lamely responds as gojo barrels into the apartment past him, not even asking for permission to enter. geto nods in amusement and follows suit, and shoko offers him a half shrug and a small smile.
nanami pinches the gap between his eyebrows with his left hand, massaging the headache starting to form, but can't deny that it's nice to hear laughter and something other than his own thoughts in his apartment.
"fine. just- GOJO DON'T EAT ON THE COUCH!"
true to gojo fashion, nanami learns, the day is packed with an array of activities that stands in stark contrast to the usual slow and domestic day he'd have with you.
after a lavish breakfast (with gojo having ungodly amounts of sugar), gojo insisted on renting two seater bikes and looping around the park. then it was lunch at a soba place, a few hours at an arcade, browsing a bookstore, and then dinner with a movie at gojo's place.
"are you having fun?" shoko had asked quietly at the arcade, as geto and gojo argued over who had the higher score. "don't worry, i won't tell gojo."
nanami had let out a small sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets but couldn't help but hide his smile. it was the most relaxed he'd felt the whole week, and he hadn't felt the need to obsessively check his phone for any updates from you.
"yeah. i think... i really needed this. thank you."
shoko winked.
"you're welcome. we're always here for you, you know that right?"
now it's nearing 11pm and gojo excitedly presses stop play on geto's pick for the night - pulp fiction. geto complains, throwing up his hands, only for gojo to wave his protests off.
"hey, you won the rock paper scissors and picked the first movie! now that we sat through that, we have to sit through my favorite movie."
"god, not 'frozen' again." shoko groans into her hands, and gojo gasps in mock horror.
"it's not! we're actually going to watch 'love actually'."
nanami sits up straighter at the mention of the film. no one noticed the way nanami's face morphs momentarily into one of pain and fondness, geto being too busy arguing with gojo about the semantics of choosing the next film and shoko inspecting the popcorn bucket in her hands. but nanami's heart continues to throb with pain.
"back me up, nanami. it's a good movie, right? you've seen it before?" gojo shouts from across the room, flicking the lights off again. nanami wills himself to stay rock solid, forcing his head to nod in agreement.
"y-yeah. i've seen it. it's good."
it was more than good, in truth.
it was the film that he'd taken you to see as the first date. a local cinema, a shared bucket of popcorn, the sudden rain he had to shield you from with his coat.
alcohol.
nanami needs alcohol to get through this movie.
"gojo, do you have any alcohol in your fridge?"
gojo smirks.
"oh shit, is it a drinking night today? yeah, i got a bit of everything- let me know what you want."
and that is how nanami ends up squished between a bored geto and a mildly amused shoko, nursing his third bottle of beer for the night. the movie sounds muted, as if the actors are speaking under the water, as the memories of the date come rushing at him in full force.
"did you like it?" you'd carefully asked, blinking your eyes in the cinema foyer in an attempt to readjust to the bright lighting. the nearly empty popcorn bucket was hugged hazardously under your right arm, and nanami carefully removed it from your arm before binning it. he wanted to slide his own arm in between the gap, but wanted to respect your space, instead settling with walking side by side with you to the exit.
"of course, it's a classic."
you'd laughed, and it warmed his entire body: melodic, loud, just the right amount of you.
"what is it?" he'd asked, bumping his shoulder with yours. you'd shaken your head sideways, muffling your giggles with your hand.
"nothing, nothing. just the thought of nanami kento, heir and ceo of nanami enterprises, the biggest law firm in Japan.... being a secret rom com lover is a bit funny." you'd smiled at him so blindly, his heart skipped a beat. "guess there's a lot more to learn about you, kenny."
he'd smiled back just as bright.
"i guess there is."
as if on cue, thunder had roared and rain started pelting from the black inky sky. people dodged into nearby stores, dog walkers cursed under their breath, and cars started flipping on their windshield wipers.
"fuck, it didn't say it was going to rain today. did you bring an umbrella?" you'd asked as you opened the door, shielding yourself from the rain by standing under the cinema's roof. nanami's warm body had joined yours a few seconds later, his left hand hovering a few inches from yours.
"no. guessing you got here by train?"
"that's correct. but the station's a ten minute walk from here." you'd sighed, shrugging off your jacket when nanami's calloused hand gently stopped you.
"what're you doing?"
"taking off my jacket so i can shield myself from the rain?" you'd blinked up at him, so adorable and clueless. it was a slightly chilly april day, but he wasted no time in shrugging off his own coat and gently draping it over your head.
"your jacket's too pretty to get wet, sweetheart. use mine instead."
you looked so shy, so unsure of yourself, when your smaller fingers curled themselves around his coat. he'd let you have his coat forever, he decided, if you were to ask.
"but... but then your coat will get wet."
"better that then you."
and he meant it.
and he held your hand whilst the two of you ran through the empty streets, the wet cement illuminated by the yellow glow of the streetlamps and the occasional headlights of the cars passing by. both of you were soaking wet by the time you and nanami were standing on the steps of the station, heart pounding and big smiles on your face.
"that was-"
"crazy." he'd finished for you.
"actually, i was gonna say the best day i've ever had." you'd said softly, and his heart thundered louder than the thunderstorm up ahead.
and he'd kissed you then and there.
"nanami, what'd you- oh my god are you okay?"
shoko's concerned voice shakes him out of the memory, and the feeling of something wet sliding down his face registers. the movie's suddenly been paused, and geto kicks gojo under the table for "making nanami cry."
was he really crying? nanami's hand comes up to brush against his cold cheeks, and it confirms to himself that he is crying.
a lot.
"god, i miss her so much." is all nanami can say, the effects of his fifth bottle of beer mixing with his dangerously suppressed emotions of missing you. shoko frowns and geto lightly pats nanami's shoulder, whilst gojo begins to panic.
"shit, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have picked a rom com. uhhh what do you wanna watch instead? howl's moving castle? mission impossible? shrek-"
"not. helping." geto dryly gets out, throwing the white haired man a deadly glare. nanami crumbles like a piece of paper, crying into his hands as he folds over himself, and shoko's hands start rubbing warm soothing circles on his back. she shifts her eyes to the side at geto, gesturing at him to get gojo out of the way, as she attempts to reign in nanami's tears.
"hey, it's gonna be okay. she'll be back in no time."
"no she's not. she's gone for another 3 weeks." nanami complains into his hands, drunk and crying. shoko suppresses a sigh, gently tapping his shoulder.
"i think you're feeling a little off because of all the alcohol and the lack of sleep, yeah? you'll feel much better when you wake up, okay? let's get you to bed."
it's a struggle to get the blonde to fall asleep, given that he refuses to go back to his house - saying it reminds him too much of you - but also as nanami is far taller and heavier than shoko. she struggles to prop him upright as gojo directs them to the guest room, and it takes both geto and gojo's help to gently lay the blonde giant onto the mattress and under the covers.
the moment the door closes behind them, shoko presses herself against the door and slides down onto the floor, exhausted.
"jesus. that man is whipped."
DAY 10
nanami absolutely cannot do this.
the lingering pain of missing your warm body next to him in bed, of seeing your shadows in the corner of his eye every time he walks into the office and passes the sofa where you like to lounge whilst reading files, of obsessively re-organising everything in his office to suppress the memory of you laughing every morning... has bled into a full blown illness.
hence why he's currently locked himself in his office, the blinds drawn completely tight to coat him in darkness, his blazer draped over his shoulders as a makeshift blanket whilst he stares blankly at the computer screen. his head's swimming with equations and dates that don't make any sense, and when his assistant came in half an hour ago to ask for his signature on a set of documents, he'd just grunted in response and honestly, isn't even sure if he'd signed the correct blank spaces before dismissing her.
his limbs feel like heavy weights and his head aches. there's no point to anything, he mopes. no point in answering to emails when you're not there to remind him to fix his posture mid-type. no point in heating up his lunch when it's not one of your meticulously cooked bento boxes, the rice shaped into a heart. no point in dressing properly with cufflinks and a tie and a blazer if you're not there to kiss his forehead, mumbling about how nice the color of his tie looks-
"sir, there's someone here to see you." his assistant's voice rings out from the other side of the door, and it sounds... smug, oddly.
nanami can't bring it in himself to care, dropping his head onto the wooden oak desk and staring at the floor. maybe if he doesn't respond, they'll go away, a childish part of him reasons. but as if sensing his immature response, his assistant just chuckles from the other side.
"i know you're in there, sir. i was just in there thirty minutes ago."
"i don't feel too well, irene. please ask them to come back another time." he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. god, he just wanted to be in your embrace.
a second of silence passes before he hears the door being swung open, illuminating the room with light from the hallway.
"i'm hurt, ken."
no fucking way.
nanami stands up so quickly that his chair tips over, his wild eyes scanning the dark room before landing on your amused smile. you - the actual you, his darling wife - is standing in his office. in a checkered blazer and dress pants accentuating every dip and curve, smelling like roses and sunshine.
he stares, slack jawed, convinced he's gone insane. you aren't supposed to be back in tokyo for another 20 or so days.
he slowly rounds the corner of his desk, walking towards you carefully as your smile only widens.
"thought you'd be excited to see m-"
the rest of your sentence is swallowed by nanami's lips on yours, his hands immediately finding their place on the small of your back to pull you in closer. he kisses you with so much force and fervor that you're practically pushed against the nearest object - his desk - and the mahogany edge bites into your skin as he pushes you further against it, breaking the kiss only for a second to regain his breath before he's gripping you tightly and kissing you all over again. you taste like your cherry chapstick and nanami can't get enough of it, left hand traveling down to squeeze your waist-
"jesus fucking christ, nanami." geto grumbles from the entryway, as gojo covers geto's eyes with a spare folder. it's only then that nanami pulls away from you, cheeks bright red as he attempts to hide himself by tucking his head under the crook of your shoulder.
it also allows him to smell your perfume much better, and enjoy how your chest rumbles with laughter at geto's horrified expression.
"should get you two charged for public indecency." gojo teases, and nanami looks back up at your smiling figure, the confusion now settling in properly.
"wait, how'd you- why- when-"
"gojo called me." you grab nanami's left hand, tracing circles onto his skin and toying with his wedding band. "said you missed me so much it was driving everyone crazy."
nanami blinks at that comment.
"what?"
"apparently someone's been missing me so much they've been snappy at work, mixing up important numbers, and drunkenly crying over 'love actually'."
the murderous look nanami sends at gojo and geto is enough for the men to avert their eyes elsewhere, pretending to stare at a non existent spot on the floor, as your laughter only grows louder.
"it's alright, nami. i thought it was... sweet."
"disgustingly sweet, might i add." shoko pops her head into the office then, waving at you in greeting. "never seen a man deteriorate so fast from his wife being gone for just a week."
"don't you three have work to do? a lot of work, might i add?" nanami weakly adds, practically pleading with his eyes to be left alone with you. his three friends just laugh, before agreeing to give you two space: geto chuckles under his breath, shoko shakes her head sideways in amusement, and gojo winks and obnoxiously yells out that you owe him at least 3 kg worth of pastries from new york.
then the door is slammed shut, leaving him and his wife in silence once more.
"i can't believe you're here." he admits in the dark, not wanting to let go of you yet. his large arms come to wrap around your shoulder as he sits down onto a nearby chair, pulling you onto his lap. when you complain about the lack of lighting he flicks on a button that makes the curtains pull open automatically, and nanami swears there is no more beautiful sight in the world than the way your face is illuminated when the sunlight hits it. "what about your work?"
you sigh contently in his lap, letting your head roll onto his shoulder. you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed nanami's touch, his scent, his everything as well.
"said it was a family emergency and i was needed back in tokyo urgently. i'm sure the associates are equipped enough to handle the case whilst i'm gone." you sit up slightly and caress his jaw. "i'm sorry i couldn't come earlier, ken."
he quiets your comments with a light kiss on the corner of your mouth.
"doesn't matter. you're here now."
"that i am, you soft baby." you joke, poking him in the chest. but all he does is nuzzle into your touch.
"soft for you, darling. thought i was going crazy without you here. i'm not letting you go again, ever." he pouts like a child, and you laugh.
"ever?"
he shakes his head sideways.
"ever."
you raise your eyebrows.
"you know i'll be called overseas more than once, right?"
"doesn't matter. i'm coming with you then." he says it with such simplicity and finality.
"what? you can't do that, you- you're basically the boss of this place." you chuckle, patting his head lovingly.
"then i'll let gojo be interim CEO whilst i'm gone. or sell the company. or fake my own death and come with you to wherever you need to go."
he's joking, of course. but the tenderness in his gaze is real and it squeezes your heart with so much love you can't help but kiss the man silly all over again.
"i love you so much, you know that?"
"impossible." his eyes crinkle when he smiles, unabashed and unrestrained. "i love you more."
you're finally home.
and so is he.
a/n: ahhhhh i got this idea randomly whilst procrastinating on my japanese hw and it came out in like 3 hours! not sure if i'm happy with how it turned out but i love the idea too much not to post,,, sorry for the slight hiatus in posting, my entire life has been consumed by the fbi section chief/hotch!coded nanami fic i've been talking about on my blog for the past 2 weeks (did someone say multi part series??!!!) anyways. hope this came out somewhat okay and was fun to read! i especially love writing the dialogue for this fic because it's very chaotic and funny. alright love you all ty for reading this far if you did ~\(≧▽≦)/~
ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★
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