pro tip: don't talk bad about yourself in front of sukuna | mdni suggestive
to say sukuna doesn't like when you disrespect yourself would be untrue, because he doesn't even let you get that far. you're his, which means when you talk bad about yourself, you're offending him too.
he'll slap your ass as he passes by you getting a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, in nothing but one of his shirts and an old pair of pj shorts, hair a mess. he lets out a "fuck, don't tempt me right now," his eyes scanning you from head to toe with that familiar heat in them.
your brows furrow in confusion and you literally go to the bathroom to look in the mirror to check that your appearance didn't magically ameliorate from the last time you saw yourself. he follows you and you're almost offended when you look in the mirror. is he playing a prank on you?
"what? i literally look-"
his hand comes to grab your throat gently but firm, a brow raised as he stares down at you and then through the mirror. "you look what?" his gaze is daring you to say something negative.
you can feel that he's not joking. you swallow, "um, good?"
he hums satisfied and pulls you closer, bending down to kiss you, the way his tongue smoothly finds its way into your mouth has heat spreading through your body.
he pulls back and looks you over again appreciatively, smushing your cheeks playfully before walking away. "s'what i thought."
tiktok trend with boyfriend sukuna wiping the bottle after he takes a sip. . . his reaction!
you sat your phone against your desk, the charm dangling in front of the camera, obscuring the view for a brief blurry second before sukuna scoffed, a large hand reaching out to flick it out of frame. “damn thing’s in the way.”
as you settled beside him, sukuna shifted into the camera’s frame too—naturally taking up more space than the camera could properly capture—large, broad shoulders, spiky, mussed salmon-hued hair pushed back from his tatted hand running through it way too many times, displaying all his sharp, sinister-looking features that stood out under the bright light in your dorm room.
a long roman nose that almost looked sculpted by the gods rather than born, edged brows pulled into a permanent annoyed expression, peach-colored lips soft despite the permanent grumpiness etched into them.
deep pools of onyx-colored ink seeped into his tanned skin, veins bulging faintly through the markings.
you glance over at your annoyed, pouting hulk of a boyfriend who, despite his rough exterior, is all soft for you.
you smile. “thanks, kuna baby.”
he shrugs, dismissively letting out a rasp-filled grunt. “tch.”
you poke his cheek in return, and he only sighs, but you feel the way he slowly melts into it, subtle and hesitant, like a grumpy stray cat pretending it doesn’t secretly enjoy pets.
“get on with it,” he demands.
you give him a pointed look.
his eye twitches before he grumbles, voice rougher this time, “get on with it, baby.”
“see? was that so hard?” you say sweetly, playing coy.
he rolls his eyes, head falling back against the chair, tongue clicking inside his mouth.
“don’t push it,” he says gruffly.
you squeal, ignoring his warning, clapping your hands together as you pull out the original-flavored ramune soda, the glass bottle clinking beneath your manicured nails while the clear liquid sloshes inside.
having tried every flavor but this one, you were excited—but more than anything, you were practically buzzing from the tips of your fingers to your toes at the trick you were about to play on sukuna.
he doesn’t really keep up with social media or trends—thinks they’re stupid. he only has an instagram because you begged him to get one so he could see your posts, and it’s literally just a black profile picture with the username mygirlfriendmadememakethisbullshit, and a bio that reads:
“fuck off im married.”
you’re not, but sukuna declares every single day that you’re his bride-to-be, ridiculously possessive about it too.
you’re his.
he’ll do anything to make sure you know that.
thankfully, his complete lack of knowledge when it comes to social media means you can play all the stupid, silly pranks on him, and he never sees them coming. and his reactions never fail to amaze you.
sometimes, you swear you can practically see steam billowing from his ears like some cartoon character. he’s embarrassingly easy to rile up.
your lips curl into a mischievous smirk for only a second before you replace it with a silky, saccharine-glossed pout.
“here,” you hum, holding the bottle out. “you try first.”
sukuna’s large hand practically swallows the bottle, fingers covering most of the label before he tips it back and takes a long swig.
immediately, he makes a face—teeth clenched, jaw tightening as he sucks in a breath, grimacing, his expression twisting in disgust.
“tastes like garbage,” he says bluntly, holding the bottle out for you to take back. “too sweet.”
you crinkle your nose. “what? gimme. i’ll be the judge of that. your tastebuds suck.”
he stares at you, his expression completely deadpan.
“clearly they don’t if i’m with you.”
heat pools low in your stomach from his compliment. you smile, pink dusting your cheeks, teasing him back.
“duh. i’m the exception.”
you snatch the bottle from him, bringing the edge of your shirt up to wipe the rim—erasing a part of him, or at least that’s what sukuna thinks as it takes him a second to fully process what you’ve just done.
his mouth tilts into something almost amused, a dangerous sort of smirk, but his crimson eyes narrow to slits, irritation flickering through them as the telltale vein in his forehead pulses.
you bring the bottle to your lips, forming a small “o” around the opening.
sukuna’s red-inked eyes narrow further, tracking every minuscule movement, locked onto you completely like a predator watching its prey—well, without the bloodshed.
“ooo, yummy,” you hum. “tastes like bubblegum.”
he swears you’re going to be the death of him—he’s had enough with your little tricks.
“what the fuck was that, huh?” he snaps. “treatin’ me like i’m some fuckin’ scum?”
you laugh nervously, trying to play it off, but he’s already moving.
rough hands manhandle you effortlessly, yanking the bottle from your grasp before he takes another massive swallow.
one large hand grips your jaw, thumb prodding at your soft lips, forcing your mouth open, holding it wide as he spits the fizzy soda back into your mouth.
he settles against his chair again like nothing happened, watching intently as you swallow it all down.
his hand lightly slaps your cheek, palm heated against your flesh, no real sting—only the phantom lingering touch that makes you feel a little too desperate for more.
“don’t do that stupid shit again,” he says, voice low, sending a shiver down your spine, your heart stuttering with a sudden, aching need for him.
꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ masterlist - kofi - emergency comm info!
note: first time writing for sukuna.. how did i do?? this was inspired by a tiktok trend btw
taglist: @seraphsmuse @xoxojisu @esilek @candiiee @cvnt4him @panchikogirlfriend @lotusstarr @cupkiki @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @wonubby @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @luckybibucky @sk1ppy-art @myths-and-ledgends @icanread-icantwrite @changkyunnnie @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @calliopemanga @izutwos @doubelieveme @ivankinnieclatter @roronoafushiguroaratakahakari @green-orange-bloom @sparklylanddetective @lem-hhn @gaige312 @ryobaby @hrts4cupid @buuxbear @b00rants @v4mp1r3b4tzz @trilxogyyy @loveergirll @searchingfornothinggg @megumisrighttoe @rarebambi @vitya124 @prettisilky take a look at this post to be added, or removed!
part 2 available due to popular demannddd — your brother's hella annoying! | art credits: @/to00fu
yuji’s older brother was terrifying — and no amount of yuji’s sunshine optimism could rebrand that fact.
“he’s a sweetheart, i swear!” yuji had told you once, flashing that bright, guileless grin of his. “he just looks intense. all bark, no bite.”
you had stared at him.
all bark? no bite?
the man looked like he’d chew your arm off, spit it onto the pavement, and then critique the flavor like you personally offended his palate.
you’d never actually had a conversation with him, not once. whenever you were over at yuji’s place with nobara and megumi, he was more of a presence than a participant. just shadow leaning against the kitchen counter, a tall silhouette passing through the hallway, the low timbre of his voice drifting from another room. you weren’t even sure he knew your name. you weren’t sure he’d ever looked at you long enough to register your existence....
and it wasn’t the piercings or the black-painted nails. not the tattoos curling along his arms like inked warnings that made him terrifying. those were… cool. unfairly cool, actually.
it was his demeanor.
the air shifted when he entered a room. he attracted attention without trying. people gravitated toward him on campus like moths to a flame they absolutely knew would burn. whispers followed him down hallways. eyes lingered. every girl you’d ever overheard in the cafeteria had dissected his features at least once: the sharp cut of his jaw, the slash of crimson in his eyes, the way his gaze felt like it could peel skin from bone if he focused it long enough.
and the hair.
that soft, pinkish shade that had no business looking so… cute?
you would’ve expected him to dye it black. something dramatic. something that matched the rest of him.
with all the stories yuji had told you about sukuna being some kind of hidden softie, you almost started to wonder if you were talking about the same person.
“i’m serious,” yuji had insisted one afternoon, sprawled across his bed while you sat cross-legged on the floor. “he just doesn’t show it to people.”
you raised a brow. “people? or you?”
yuji only grinned. “like that time in middle school, when those third years wouldn’t leave me alone.”
you remembered that story.
apparently, a group of older boys had cornered yuji behind the gym. and sukuna showed up, not because yuji called him but because as yuji says he has that 'older brother instinct'.
“he didn’t even touch them,” yuji had said proudly. “he just asked if they were done. they literally apologized. to me.”
you blinked at him. “that’s not sweet. that’s terrifying.”
“yeah, but he walked me home after,” yuji argued. “and he bought me ice cream. he pretended it was because he wanted some, but he doesn’t even like vanilla.”
you had rolled your eyes.
“and then,” yuji continued, undeterred, “there was that time i got sick before finals? like, really sick. i had a fever and everything.”
sukuna had skipped school to stay home. made soup from scratch. forced yuji to take medicine on schedule. sat at the edge of his bed the entire night because yuji kept shivering.
“he kept checking my temperature every hour,” yuji said, softer now. “and when i woke up in the morning, he was still there. he looked like shit, but he was still there.”
you snorted. “you’re telling me that grumpy, scowling man spoon-fed you soup?”
“he said if i didn’t eat he’d ‘pry my jaw open himself,’” yuji admitted. “but yeah. basically.”
and then there was the third story; the one yuji always told with a sheepish laugh.
“okay, and that one time,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “when i said i wanted to quit track.”
yuji had come home frustrated, convinced he wasn’t improving fast enough. sukuna had listened, actually listened, before flicking him in the forehead.
“you’re not a quitter,” he’d said bluntly. “you’re impatient.”
and then, the next morning, sukuna had shown up at the field at six a.m.
to train with him, in winter.
“he hates mornings,” yuji emphasized. “like, genuinely despises them. but he ran laps with me. every day. for three weeks.”
you had stared at him after that one, arms crossed.
all of it sounded… cute.
in theory.
but every time you saw sukuna in person leaning in a doorway with that bored, predatory gaze, black nails tapping against his phone, tattoos stretching when he crossed his arms; you simply could not reconcile the image.
you mean to tell me that man is a sweetheart?
nope, absolutely not.
yuji could keep his bedtime-story version of sukuna.
weekends at yuji’s had started to feel routine in the best way — shoes kicked off by the door, snacks scattered across the coffee table, textbooks open but rarely respected. the four of you rotated between pretending to study and actually getting distracted every five minutes.
today was supposed to be productive.
“i really don’t understand this term…” you muttered, pressing your fingers to your temples like you could physically massage the information into your brain. the words on the page blurred together, academic jargon twisting into nonsense the longer you stared at it.
megumi leaned closer, calm and patient as ever. he nudged your hand aside gently and pointed to the paragraph. “you’re overcomplicating it. don’t read it the way the book phrases it,” he said, voice low and steady. “explain it to yourself in simpler terms. what’s it actually trying to say?”
you frowned, listening as he reworded it, breaking the concept down piece by piece. he was good at this; making dense material sound almost manageable.
a loud groan shattered the fragile concentration.
“nerds,” nobara announced dramatically, flopping across the couch like a disgruntled cat. “stop being boring and play mario kart with us before i lose my mind.”
yuji popped up beside her, already holding two controllers, grin wide and mischievous. “c’mon, you’ve been staring at that page for like twenty minutes. that’s unhealthy.”
“i’m stuck on this chapter,” you argued, glancing helplessly at megumi as if he might shield you from temptation. “i can’t get my head around it— maybe later—”
“ughhh,” nobara dragged the sound out as if you’d personally offended her. “you have, what, four days until your exam? one game won’t kill you. relax a little.”
yuji wiggled a controller in your direction, teasing, sing-song. “you knooow you want to~”
you exhaled through your nose, already feeling your resolve crumble. “fine. one game,” you conceded, pushing yourself up and heading toward the couch.
nobara shot megumi a look. he didn’t even glance up from his book.
“i’ll pass,” he said simply, flipping a page.
“this,” nobara declared, pointing at him accusingly, “is why people don’t invite you to parties, megs.”
“pretty sure it’s because they’re afraid he’ll knock someone’s ass out,” you added dryly, settling into the couch.
“that too,” yuji agreed cheerfully.
megumi didn’t rise to it. “you three are enough chaos,” he murmured. “statistically, adding more variables would only worsen the outcome.”
“listen to him,” nobara scoffed. “he thinks we’re a science experiment.”
“you kind of are,” megumi replied without missing a beat.
you barely had time to laugh before a new voice slipped into the room.
“is that so?”
you turned.
sukuna was slouched against the doorway at first, then moving closer, folding himself over the back of the couch with lazy confidence. he wore a black tank top that clung to his frame, tattoos winding down his toned arms in sharp, deliberate lines. black-painted nails tapped idly against the couch fabric as crimson eyes flicked over the group.
and then, briefly, over you.
your spine went rigid.
“can i join?” he asked, though it didn’t really sound like a question. more like a challenge.
yuji lit up instantly,he held out a controller. “of course, big bro! get in here.”
sukuna took it without breaking eye contact with the screen. “don’t cry when you lose,” he said lazily, voice edged with amusement.
nobara straightened, competitive spark igniting. “please. more people for me to absolutely destroy.”
he huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. “confidence. i’ll enjoy crushing that.”
yuji grinned, already shifting over and patting the empty space beside him. “c’mon, sit here—”
but sukuna didn’t move toward yuji.
instead, he adjusted the controller in his hands and walked around the couch with unhurried steps... and then he was lowering himself onto the cushion beside you. very beside you, likeeeee close enough that his thigh pressed against yours the moment he settled.
holy fucking shit.
yuji blinked, then snickered deciding to turn to the screen and set up the game.
nobara’s eyes flicked between you and sukuna, interest sharpening, but she said nothing. just smirked knowingly and turned back to the screen.
and you?
you were suddenly hyperaware of everything.
the heat radiating off him. the faint scent of something clean but distinctly him. the way his black-painted nails contrasted against the bright plastic of the controller. he leaned back casually, spreading his legs without a second thought, broad shoulders relaxed, posture loose and claiming.
his knee brushed yours and stayed there.
you, meanwhile, were sitting ramrod straight, spine stiff like someone had slid a metal rod down your back. your hands gripped the controller a little too tightly, knuckles paling.
calm down! it’s just proximity.
“you always sit like that?” his voice murmured beside you, low enough that it didn’t carry to the others.
you swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “like what?”
“like you’re about to be executed.”
heat crawled up your neck. “i’m not.”
“hm.” his knee nudged yours lightly, “could’ve fooled me.”
you forced yourself to relax, or at least pretended to. sinking back into the couch by a fraction. it only made everything worze. his arm stretched along the back of the couch, fingers lazily draped just behind your shoulder. he occupied space like it belonged to him. you, meanwhile, felt like you were borrowing air.
the race began in a burst of color and sound, and nobara and yuji immediately fell into their usual chaos.
“don’t you dare— yuji!”
“i didn’t even touch you!”
“you absolutely did, you liar—”
but with sukuna added to the mix, the dynamic shifted fast. he wasn’t loud about it. didn’t whoop or gloat. he just… dominated.
sharp turns taken flawlessly. boosts timed perfectly. he drifted like he’d been born with a controller in his hand. within seconds he’d blown past both of them, leaving nobara spluttering in outrage.
“oh my god, are you serious right now?”
yuji shouted, “bro! stop targeting me!”
sukuna muttered something under his breath, low and dry. “if you can’t keep up, that’s not my problem.”
“that’s so messed up!” yuji laughed anyway.
you, on the other hand, were in last.
which was humiliating, because you were usually decent at this. but your focus was shot to hell. every time sukuna shifted beside you, every brush of fabric or skin, your brain short-circuited for half a second too long.
“you’re falling behind,” he commented mildly, eyes still on the screen.
“i can see that,” you muttered.
“hm.” there was amusement in the sound. “thought you were going to win.”
you gritted your teeth and focused.
second round.
you forced yourself to breathe, to tune everything else out. slowly, muscle memory kicked in and your turns sharpened and timing improved.
you overtook yuji.
“hey!” he protested. “since when are you good again?”
“always,” you shot back automatically.
up ahead, sukuna was still in first.
of course he was. then you saw the blue shell rotating in his item slot. his camera angle shifted briefly, panning behind him. fucking hell.
you braced yourself, already imagining the explosion, the inevitable humiliation of getting knocked out just as you caught up— and then he fired.
but not backward, rather foward.
the blue shell screamed ahead, locked onto nobara in first after she’d briefly stolen the lead during the chaos. it detonated spectacularly. “you absolute—!” she shrieked, cursing with impressive creativity as her character spun out.
and sukuna… slowed down? just slightly.
your character surged forward, overtaking him and claiming the first place over the finish line. “ha!” you shouted, adrenaline surging. “in your fucking face!”
without thinking you turned and pointed directly at sukuna, grin wide, triumphant and reckless.
the room went quiet for half a beat. ice-cold sweat slid down your spine.
for a split second, you were convinced you’d signed your own death warrant.
he looked up at you and met your wide, poorly-concealed panic with a slow raised brow. crimson eyes glinting with something unreadable.
and then he laughed.
not the arrogant, taunting laugh you expected. it slipped out of him unexpectedly, warm enough that he had to cough lightly into his fist to cover it, shoulders shifting with the motion. his eyes never left your face.
you were still pointing at him, still frozen in your little victory pose.
and now, staring back at him like a confused dog trying to process a new command, head tilting slightly to the side as if changing the angle might help you understand what was happening.
that only made him chuckle again, quieter this time.
“god,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “you’re adorable.”
your brain short-circuited. “…huh?”
before you could process it, he rose from the couch in one smooth motion. he unfolded to his full height in front of you, broad shoulders casting a faint shadow as he towered over where you still sat clutching the controller.
then he extended his hand. and you, brilliant genius that you were, shut your eyes, slightly flinching. it made him pause, a slight crease forming between his brows.
you felt fingers against your cheek.
warm.
calloused.
pinching?
your eyes flew open.
sukuna was standing there, expression unreadable except for the faint curve tugging at his mouth, his fingers gently squeezing your cheek and wiggling it side to side like you were something mildly amusing he’d picked up off a shelf.
“i said,” he repeated, voice low and almost thoughtful, “you’re adorable.”
you blinked at him.
he studied your stunned expression for half a second longer, then let out another quiet chuckle before releasing your cheek.
the spot tingled where he’d touched you. without another word, he turned and walked off, hands sliding into his pockets as casually as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of the room.
the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall.
silence swallowed the living room.
“huuuuuuuuuuuuuuh?!” nobara’s shriek pierced the air like a siren.
I am someone who always submits everything on time. Assignments, projects, files, etc. Always the first one. I'm the one who don't really mind doing the whole work myself in a group project if that means getting that A+.
I came a week later after our college opened back (mid sem break). And one of the professors have already given out the practical work which we had to submit yesterday and get it reviewed by him (at least the tables and data). Now I had mostly done it but the tables were incompleted because literally I came back on Sunday and had two days to conduct everything and then do everything.
It isn't even really a big deal because only four students out of fifty-two students submitted their work. But I thought I'll get it submitted today at the very least (even if we don't have a class with him today). I did everything, I was up till 3 AM. I had only 3 graphs left which I decided to do the next morning. Guess what? I woke up late.
And now, I haven't done it. It's not a big deal, I know. He'll see it tomorrow I know. He knows I am a good student. I understand. But I can't help but feel worthless. I felt so terrible. Why did I wake up late? Why didn't I just completed it last night? Why am I falling behind? I can't afford to fall behind.
Again, I am aware it really isn't a big deal. Yet I feel worthless over such a small issue. I can't vent to my friends because obviously even they'll be like, “It's not a big deal at all, just show him tomorrow.”
Which is why I'm instead venting here.
It's the same way I felt when I scored 7.98 SGPA in the first sem. Just 0.2 more and I could have reached 8 SGPA. But I didn't.
I know 7.98 is still great especially for first sem. And I still have sem 2. I can improve and hopefully get 8+ CGPA in my first year. But that 0.2 just keeps tugging at the back of my mind.
And I am not a topper kid. I am not the #1. I wasn't in High School either.
Perhaps it's because that's the only thing I am somewhat good at? I am terrible at sports. I am alright in some activities like sketching, reading. But not a master ANYWHERE. Academics is the only thing where I barely shine and that's after giving my 100%. If I fall back even here, what else do I have? What is my worth then? My parents have invested so much in me. I can't be worthless. I need to pay them back. I need to be the best. But I am not. Not even near. And I have no body to blame except for myself.
when someone asks me what my love language is but i can't say "pushing people away to see if they'll fight for me and put genuine efforts to come back" so i just say words of affirmation
rhea I jus saw your "Daily goals" post and when I say that u stole words from my mouth 😭😭
I desperately need smn to hold me accountable or I Will Not Study, it wasn't like this in 10th, I was topper and now the backlogs make my back hurt soo baad.
idk accountability mutual for 24?
Omg I'm so sorry for like such a late reply! Actually I went on a hiatus and just recently returned and checked my inbox today only!! 😭
Fortunately, my guy bestie actually did that for me. Gave me daily goals AND asked for updates but he was so scary that I'm lowkey traumatized and now I take back what I said in that post😭 and I have kind of made an academic comeback and mostly am doing fine on my own so that's that YAY♥
Man, my sem break is over and I'm returning to college tonight and I feel SOOOO sad😭. I don't wanna go back. I wanna stay home with my mum dad. And I truly don't understand why I'm so upset because I was completely fine LAST sem. But right now, I feel so sad ugh. I know I'll be fine a few days later as I'll get swamped with assignments, presentations, and tests. But still. I don't wanna goooooooo. 😭😭😭
♡ coming over, but only to see your boyfriend’s adorable nephews !
the door to sukuna’s house isn’t even fully open before yuji launches at you.
“you’re here!”
you barely have time to take off your shoes before he’s wrapped around your waist like a small, excited koala, nearly knocking you back into the entryway.
“hi yuji,” you say, ruffling his pink hair, then smiling at the brown-haired boy behind him. “hi choso!”
“i waited all morning when you said you’d come!“ yuji says, eyes bright and practically vibrating with excitement.
“you already used my phone to text her six times,” choso perks up.
“more than that!” yuji corrects.
“that’s worse.”
you laugh and finally manage to step inside, nudging the door closed with your foot. yuji immediately grabs your hand and starts tugging you further into the house.
“i got my drawings ready!” he says urgently. “and we can play that one game again and choso said we could order pizza—”
“hey.”
you glance over and there he is.
sukuna is sprawled across the couch like a disgruntled king, one arm thrown over the backrest, sharp eyes already locked on you from across the room. his pink hair is messy, like he just woke up from a nap he didn’t want to take, and his expression is that usual mixture of irritation and boredom.
“you have a boyfriend, y’know,” he says flatly.
yuji pauses mid-tug.
“hi to you too,” you say.
sukuna scoffs.
“don’t ‘hi’ me. you walked in, ignored me, and immediately got dragged along by the brat.”
“i didn’t!” yuji protests.
you laugh under your breath and walk farther into the living room, yuji still clinging to your arm.
“well, i‘m talking to you now,” you tell sukuna patiently.
he eyes you.
then yuji.
then your still-linked arms.
his scowl deepens.
“you came here for them again.”
it’s not even a question.
yuji tilts his head. “but she always comes for us.”
choso snorts quietly, covering it with his hand when sukuna shoots him a glare.
“unbelievable,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “my own girlfriend uses me to get access to my nephews.”
“that’s not true,” you say.
he raises an eyebrow.
“…okay it’s a little true.”
yuji smiles like this is the best news he’s ever heard.
“see!” he says, tugging you toward the middle of the living room. “now come see my drawing!”
you let yourself get dragged down onto the floor while he scrambles for papers scattered across the coffee table. choso reaches over and moves a soda can and a bowl of chips out of the way so yuji doesn’t accidentally knock everything over in his excitement.
then he crouches down beside the table, leaning on one knee as yuji spreads the drawings out like they’re priceless art.
“this one’s you,” yuji says proudly, holding up a page covered in bright marker.
it’s… vaguely you.
you have giant hair and extremely long eyelashes and you’re holding hands with a much smaller pink blob that is apparently yuji.
“it’s so cute,” you squeal immediately.
yuji beams.
on the couch, sukuna clicks his tongue.
“i don’t see myself in that.”
yuji doesn’t even look up. “you’re not in this one.”
sukuna looks offended.
“this one is me and her,” yuji says matter-of-factly.
you glance over at sukuna.
he’s glaring at the back of yuji’s head, then catches your eyes.
“so you come over,” he says slowly, “sit on my floor, and hang out with a seven-year-old who refuses to acknowledge i‘m here.”
“you’re so dramatic sometimes, he doesn‘t do that,” you say.
“i literally asked where i was and he said i’m not there.”
yuji suddenly looks up again and waves another drawing.
“you’re in this one!”
you turn the paper around.
you can see yourself, yuji, choso…
and a much larger, very angry looking stick figure with spiky hair and what might be fangs.
yuji points toward it. “that’s uncle kuna.”
choso leans over your shoulder to look at it.
“that’s the most accurate drawing of him yet,” he snickers.
you hold it up toward the couch.
“see? you’re included.”
sukuna stares at it.
long pause.
“…why do i look like that?”
yuji shrugs. “that’s your face.”
choso finally loses it and starts laughing, turning away and covering his mouth.
sukuna glares at all of you like he’s considering throwing someone out the window.
then he looks back at you sitting on the floor with his nephews, smiling at the drawings like they’re the most important thing in the world.
his scowl softens just a little.
“brat,” he mutters.
yuji looks up.
“the other one.”
then choso looks up.
“what?”
“…order the pizza already.”
choso’s already pulling out his phone with yuji practically hanging off him. “okay, what do you want on it this time?”
and sukuna leans back on the couch, still pretending to be irritated—
even though his eyes haven’t left you three the entire time.
⸝⸝ if you enjoyed this, consider checking out the masterlist for this series. ♡
I hate college sm!! Everyone here is so freaking selfish like dude I'm just asking about what we're supposed to do in the practical because I was absent, not asking for you to donate me your kidney!!! And I'm so fucking swamped with assignments and files (pretty useless imo but anw) that I can't even study what I actually came here to study like tf?
And I CAN'T EVEN READ BOOKS, DRAW, OR WRITE IN MY JOURNAL ANYMORE AHHHH THIS SUCKS FUCK IT😭😭💔
