SATORU WAS laying on his back, a lazy arm draped around your waist while you slept against his chest. Your cheek squished against him, your lips slightly parted. He brushed the hair out your face to see you better.
“You’re kidding me,” he whispered to himself, a smirk pulling at his lips. He poked your cheek gently, the overwhelming urge to just squeeze you and kiss you hit him all at once, you just looked so cute in the mornings. His self control lasted about three seconds, his finger gently poking your cheek, giggling to himself. You frowned in your sleep as if even your unconscious self disapproved his actions, but his heart just melted even more.
Unable to stop himself, he wraps his arms even tighter around you, pulling you impossibly closer against him as he rolled onto his side, placing kisses all over your head. “Fucking adorable..”
A muffled groan came from against his chest, your eyebrows knitted together as you started to wake up from all the fuss. Your hands push at his chest, he loosened his arms around you.
You look up at him, blinking several times as your eyes adjusted to the light. “There she is,” he beamed, pinching your cheek.
“..what are you doing?” You slap his hand away gently, clearly not amused from the fact you had been woken up so early because of him squeezing and poking you.
“You just looked to cute sleeping, i couldn’t help it.” He kisses your forehead, then your cheek before placing a kiss on your lips, pulling back to admire you again, looking way too pleased with himself. You look away, going shy from being called cute, a faint blush appearing on your cheeks. “Whatever..” He almost squealed like an idiot from the sight, pulling you close against him again. “I can’t believe your real.”
“Satoru.” The warning in your voice only made him giggle more. Even though you were annoyed, he couldn’t help but feel a little amused by the whole thing. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He kisses your head once more before finally releasing you.
a stranger mistakes Sukuna for just another man checking you out at the bar
The bar is packed, but the music’s just loud enough to keep the mood alive without swallowing conversation whole while warm, low lights flicker off every glass and the polished mahogany, painting the room in a soft, golden haze. Over by the high-top, you’re wedged between Shoko, Yuki, Utahime and Akari, laughter bubbling out of you so hard you nearly spill your drink.
A few meters away, Sukuna emerges from the back hallway, drying his hands on a paper towel before tossing it into the trash. He’s halfway to the booth where Gojo, Toji, Suguru, and Choso are already arguing over something stupid, but the second your laughter cuts through the noise, his dark crimson eyes snap to you, and he freezes mid-step.
Tonight, you’re absolutely breathtaking. Maybe it's the way the warm light catches in your hair, or the dress that fits every curve just right, or maybe it's just you. All he knows is that you look so beautiful that watching you feels almost unfair.
He just stands there, massive and completely still, his face softening into open admiration as he drinks you in.
Next to him, a man leaning against the end of the bar catches the moment the huge, inked brute suddenly goes still. Curiosity flickers across his face as he follows Sukuna's line of sight across the room, and the second his eyes land on you, his eyebrows shoot up in appreciation. He takes a slow sip of his drink, then slides a little closer to Sukuna, nodding toward you like they’re already in on some joke.
"You noticed her too, huh?" he asks with an easy grin, sounding entirely too sure of himself.
Sukuna doesn’t bother to look at him. His gaze stays glued to you, watching you laugh with Shoko, and a small, proud tilt curls at the corner of his mouth.
"Hard not to," Sukuna rumbles. "She looks way too damn good for a place like this."
"Right?" the stranger says, taking another slow sip of his drink, clearly taking that agreement as an invitation to keep talking. His gaze drags over Sukuna’s massive build, the plain shirt, joggers, and face tattoos, and a cocky smirk appears on his face, like he’s already decided he’s got the upper hand. “Hottest woman in here, hands down. Gorgeous, carries herself well, and that smile… I was just about to head over, buy her a drink, see where the night takes us.”
Sukuna finally turns his head, sizing the man up with calm, almost lazy interest. He’s objectively handsome—tall, impeccably groomed, his shirt tailored tight over a sharp, well-built frame. He looks like the type who’s used to getting whatever he wants and moves through the world with the confidence that says he’s never had to fight for attention.
"Yeah?" Sukuna rasps, amusement flickering in his eyes as the man keeps embarrassing himself.
"I mean, c'mon, look at her," the stranger continues, sipping his drink. "She looks like she’s got real standards. Probably has a great job, drinks the good stuff. She needs a guy who knows how to keep up with her and actually treat her right."
Leaning back against the bar, Sukuna crosses his massive arms over his chest, thoroughly entertained by the sheer audacity of it all. Listening to a complete stranger explain what kind of man his wife needs is absurd enough that he's more than happy to let him keep digging his own grave.
"Yeah, she’s something else alright," Sukuna drawls. "You really think she'd go for you?"
"Oh, I know she would," the man replies, adjusting his cuff with a smug grin. "I've got the job, the car, the looks. Women like her know a good thing when they see it."
A deep, amused huff rumbles out of Sukuna. If this idiot so much as crossed a real line, he’d snap his neck without a second thought. For now, though, watching this polished suit walk himself straight into a wall is way too funny to interrupt.
"You've got it all figured out, huh?"
"Hey, confidence gets results," the stranger says, grinning. “Tell you what—friendly wager.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his leather wallet, fishes out a crisp, high-value bill, and slides it across the bar between them. "This says I'll have her number and a kiss before the night's out."
Sukuna tilts his head, a wicked smirk slowly spreading across his face.
"Alright,” he says. “Mind if I go first?"
The stranger gives Sukuna one last once-over, lingering on the intimidating ink on his face, the back of his neck, and the lines wrapping around his wrists and biceps. To him, Sukuna looks like someone who got lost on his way home from the gym, or maybe a prison, though he’s a little too well-kept for that. He lets out a dismissive chuckle, already certain there's no way a woman like you would give a brute in joggers the time of day.
"Go right ahead, man," the guy says, waving him on. "Show me how it's done. No chance in hell you're pulling her."
"Watch," Sukuna says simply, pushing off the bar and walking across the floor, his massive frame cutting right through the crowded room.
Over by the bar, you're mid-sentence when a broad, warm palm gently taps your shoulder. You turn around, and the moment your eyes land on your husband, your whole face lights up.
"Hey," you breathe, the sight of him instantly making your cheeks flush warm. He looks stupid hot tonight, towering over everyone around him.
Sukuna steps in so close that your back presses into the edge of the bar, his body boxing you in until there's nowhere else to go. He pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to you, leaning down until his mouth hovers right at your ear.
"Can you look up that Korean place we went to, like, two months ago?" he rumbles, his voice low and soft against your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver racing down your spine. "I can't remember the name."
"Oh, so now you need me?" you tease, but your fingers are already flying over the screen. "Yeah, hang on…"
Across the room, the man at the bar narrows his eyes, watching you take Sukuna's phone without a hint of hesitation and immediately start tapping away. He smirks, swirling the melting ice in his glass, already convinced he's seen this play before. Classic move, he thinks, assuming you're just typing in a fake number to get the giant out of your personal space. He's already rehearsing his opening line for when Sukuna walks away empty-handed.
You hand the phone back to Sukuna, a triumphant little smile tugging at your lips. "Found it."
“Thanks, baby,” Sukuna murmurs, sliding the phone into his pocket.
His palm reaches up, fingers gently catching your chin, and he tilts your face up to his. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, sweet, unhurried, and so deliberate it makes your heart skip a beat. When he pulls back just a breath, his crimson eyes catch yours, gleaming with smug, mischievous heat. A knowing smirk tugs at his mouth as he shifts his weight, about to step away.
Across the bar, the guy rolls his eyes, muttering, “A polite peck? That doesn't count for shit—"
He doesn’t even get to finish the thought. The second Sukuna starts to pull away, your hands fly up, and your fingers twist tight into the front of his shirt. You yank him back down, but even then, you still have to rise onto your toes, stretching just to reach him. Your mouth crashes into his in a kiss that’s deep, intense, and filthy enough to strip away any composure he might have had left.
A low, surprised rumble vibrates against your lips before Sukuna's arm snaps around your waist and his other hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. He only deepens the kiss, his thumb digging into your hip while you cling to his shirt just to keep him close.
The stranger hasn’t moved at all, his jaw practically welded to the floor. His eyes are wide, blown out in pure shock, watching as the gorgeous woman he’d been so sure about just yanked a terrifying brute down for a kiss that leaves nothing to the imagination.
"What the fuck..." he mutters, staring in disbelief. "No way he actually pulled that off..."
Toji passes by on his way to the bathroom and hears the words. Without even slowing his pace, he just glances at the man’s stunned expression, lets out a dry, wheezing chuckle, and deadpans over his shoulder, “That's his wife, moron."
By the time your grip loosens and you drop back onto your heels, your breath is ragged, lips flushed and tingling, and you’re staring up at your husband with nothing but shameless, unfiltered adoration.
Sukuna’s thumb drags slowly across your lower lip, tugging it just a little, while a broad, utterly satisfied grin stretches across his face.
“Good girl,” he rasps, lowering his voice, and the praise sends a jolt right between your legs.
"Every fucking time," Shoko groans from the side. "One drink and you're attached to him again."
"You say that like I'm complaining," Sukuna chuckles.
"I fail to see the problem either," you chirp with a shameless grin.
Shoko shakes her head at you, then looks at your husband. "You know, I used to have a lot less patience for you. It's annoying how much harder you've become to stay mad at."
Sukuna just snorts at that.
"Anyway," he says, giving your waist one last squeeze before glancing at the rest of the group. "You girls joining us at the booth?"
"Yeah, yeah, we'll be there in a minute. Now shoo," Yuki says, waving him away. "We've got gossip to catch up on first."
Sukuna just lifts his hands in mock surrender, huffing an amused laugh as he turns on his heel and heads back toward the stranger waiting at the end of the bar.
“Easiest money I've made all week,” he drawls, picking up the bill. He gives the stunned man a small nod and walks toward his friends at the booth.
true form!sukuna who loves loves loves back scratches.
it’s mainly become routine now: you’ll sleep beside him, on his chest or the crook of his shoulder, while two of his arms wrap around your waist & one cups the right side of your face while stroking hair from the left. and then you’ll scratch him weakly, on the nape of his neck, & suddenly the beast of a man flops over.
“sukuna..”
he doesn’t say anything the entire time. just moves every time your hand does, trying to give you the best access possible while his hands tighten almost threatingly around you, which is his way of encouraging you more. when you start scratching properly he’ll press his cheek against your face and suddenly be preening for more, going at every angle.
only once have you not scratched him & immediately you regretted it. he froze before manually doing it himself, hands moving from your waist to drape your arms over his exposed back (he only doesn’t sleep with a shirt on, ever, because of it) and do it himself
once you swore you heard a purr, but who are you kidding? wouldn’t be beside him.
pda obsessed!choso who is always looking for an excuse to kiss you. he'll wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your shoulders, your neck, and even your arms and hands if you aren't using them. he'll do it even as you're checking out your groceries at the supermarket, ignoring the disgusted stares of the cashier and other customers.
pda obsessed!choso who will pull you to sit on his lap when you're hanging out with your group of friends. he loves to rub circles into your hips or your thighs and stare up at you while you talk to everyone else, completely enamoured by your beauty. the second you're done talking he'll lean up and shamelessly make out with you, tongue and all. he'll make out with you for as long as he likes and doesn't care that he's pulled you out of an active conversation.
pda obsessed!choso who walks with his hand in the back pocket of your jeans because he loves the feeling of your ass rubbing against his hand. he doesn't take his hand away even when you stop walking and stand still to check your phone and instead gropes and squeezes your butt with both hands. you try and push him away out of embarassment but his grip is too strong so you just let him squeeze to his hearts content.
pda obsessed!choso puts his arms around your shoulders and gropes your tits while you wait in queues. he does it so often that you hardly even notice when he slides his hands into your bra and starts squeezing. it's only when he begins rolling your nipple between his fingers that you squeal and slap his hand away, and he switches to kissing your exposed skin instead.
pda obssesed!choso just wants to touch you constantly. whether it be holding your hand, petting your head or groping you, he's happy as long as his hands are on you.
a/n: this is my first tumblr post so i hope its good lol
you were in nothing but your underwear and a sports bra. every window in your house was wide open, every fan you could find was running, although there was no point seeing that all they did was push in more warm air.
you’ve been tossing and turning in bed for the past three hours. the darkness of the night meant absolutely nothing temperature wise, you were still scorching up. sweat clung to every inch of your body, as well as another, larger, heavier, and hotter body.
“ryo get OFF”
“mmm” his sleepy whines vibrated against your neck. how the hell he even managed to fall asleep in this heat, let alone the added body heat that was living between the two of you.
this heat was already irritating you, with sukunas added heat you could feel yourself going ballistic.
“Ryo i swear to god.” you tried pushing down on his shoulders, but it was no use. pushing and shoving did absolutely nothing, his grip on you was steady, even in his sleepy state. this was it. you were going to die of heatstroke, under your massive boulder of a boyfriend.
“m’stop pushin’ me woman.”
“ryomen. it is too fucking hot for your fatass to be on top of me like this.” silence rang out for a few moments, only to then be cut by sukunas snores.
there was no way you were ever gonna be able to sleep like this, so you had to find another way.
“Sukuna move yer ass I needa piss.” he groaned, but still rolled off of you. finally. it was like breathing for the first time.
you stood up from the bed and crept out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door, and plopping on the living room couch. it wasn’t much different from the heat from your bed, yet the slight temperature difference provided you a nice moment of relief.
until it was ruined approximately ten minutes later, by a big fat, scorching hot, log plopping on top of you.
“Sukuna.”
“fuckin’ liar.”
“Sukuna get off of me I’m so serious.” your eyes were near tears at this point, the heat only bringing out your frustrations even more.
“alright alright calm down woman, and go get dressed.” your big lug of a man sat up and leaned back into the couch.
“what? why?”
“I got us a hotel room.”
“Ryo-“
“yes there’s air conditioning. now hurry, cus I ain’t sleeping without holdin’ on to my woman.”
𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀’𝐒 keeping a very, very dark secret from you. ₊⊹ 𝒻. reader
“we’re coming to you live with the latest updates on the four bodies found brutally mutilated outside of shibuya . . .”
your hands tighten on the fabric of sukunas wife beater as the news anchors grimly recounts the attacks that happened only a few blocks from your apartment.
sukuna knows you’re scared.
you’ve done nothing but ramble on & on about the so called spider lily killer — or whatever they’ve decided to call him.
“that’s just awful,” you lift your cheek off his chest to look at the television. yellow police tape & police lights flutter across the screen. “kuna, do you think i should worry? i mean shibuya’s not far . . .”
“i think you’re good, baby,” sukuna’s hand glides lazily up your spine before settling onto the back of your head, fingers disappearing into your hair.
you turn to face him, your chin sitting on top of his muscular chest as you flutter you lashes, searching his face for reassurance. “how do you know?”
the corner of his mouth twitches. “because i said so.”
you don’t question him. you never really do. why would you? he was six foot & like 200 pounds of pure muscle. he’d never let anything happen to you.
so, you nod, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before curling back beside him, your head tucked beneath his chin.
“i hate thinking that there’s really people out there that are just . . . that sick in the head.”
sukuna doesn’t say a word. he was too focused on the television as the news anchors continued listing injuries so grotesque they refuse to show any up close footage of the crime scene
he almost scoffs.
fools.
they weren’t even describing it correctly.
“. . . authorities believe the suspect is highly organized and extremely dangerous . . .”
you press yourself closer to sukuna.
he can feel every ounce of fear running through your body.
every tremble.
every soft gasp as the lead detective explains what motives they think could’ve made someone do something as heinous as this.
vigilante theory?
how generous of them to assume he cares about mortality.
multiple killers?
they’re underestimating how quickly one man can kill.
they were all just so wrong.
a slow smile settles into his face —— small enough that if you were looking, you’d never notice it.
there was something amusing about it.
his girlfriend was so scared of this monster she couldn’t even put a face to.
yet had no idea that the same man she was so afraid of was the rubbing her back to sleep right now.
this is Sukuna. Sukuna loves his personal space. this is you. you also love Sukuna's personal space—especially when he’s trying to nap.
⪼ Sukuna loves his personal space mini-series
Midday sun blazes against the living room windows, the blinds drawn tight, but still useless against the suffocating heat that seeps into every corner. The air hangs thick and unmoving, making every breath heavy with humidity, and the only sound is the low, muffled hum of a rock station drifting from the battered old radio on the side table. Sukuna's sprawled flat on his back across the couch, one massive arm thrown over his eyes to block out the harsh sunlight, dead asleep despite the heat. His broad, bare chest rises and falls slowly, every muscle slack with exhaustion as he tries to wring a scrap of rest from the oven-hot afternoon.
Sukuna loves his personal space when he's trying to nap. You, on the other hand, happen to love Sukuna's personal space more than your own.
Bare feet silent against the floorboards, you slip into the living room and pause at the edge of the couch, taking in the massive, inviting sprawl of Sukuna’s frame. The empty stretch by his feet and the soft armchair across the room don’t tempt you even for a second. Instead, you climb onto the middle cushions, sinking your knees in before crawling straight up his body until you’re stretched out on top of him. Your whole front presses flush against his bare chest, chin propped on folded hands right over his heart.
Dragging his arm away from his forehead, Sukuna cracks open heavy eyelids, blinking away the last remnants of sleep before his eyes find you and track your every movement, narrowing into a flat, unimpressed stare that lands squarely on your face. The sheer audacity of your intrusion leaves him looking irritated at first, but then, almost against his will, a reluctant warmth seeps into his features as the humidity clings to his skin.
"You're heavy," he lies, letting his voice drop into that low, sleepy rumble that always has your chest tightening with affection, shifting beneath you just a little to be dramatic.
"Light as a feather," you counter softly, wiggling until you're perfectly settled on his chest and grinning up at him.
"More like a sack of bricks," he grumbles, making absolutely no effort to throw you off him. "It’s too hot for this, and you're like a weighted blanket I never asked for. Why are you on me, huh?"
"Because you're comfy."
Sukuna lets out a sharp, incredulous scoff, his chest heaving beneath you. "The armchair's right there. It’s comfy too."
“Your skin’s nicer," you murmur.
"I'm not furniture, woman." He tries to sound stern, but there’s the faintest hint of amusement curling at the edge of his words.
"Aren’t you?" You arch an eyebrow, lips quirking in challenge.
"Unbelievable," he groans, rolling his eyes skyward as if he’s searching for patience. "My whole body’s aching after beating the hell out of each other with Toji at the gym, and you’re treating me like a mattress."
"You make a good mattress," you tease.
"I'm gonna throw you onto the floor," he threatens, but you both know he lost that battle the second you climbed onto him.
"You won't," you shoot back, poking a finger lightly into his side, right over his ribs. "You'd miss me too much."
"I'd sleep like a log," he fires back, his lips twitching as he tries to maintain his glare despite the dull ache in his muscles. "I'd have the whole couch to myself. No tiny parasites sucking the life out of me."
"Fine, I'll go," you sigh, making an exaggerated show of wiggling away with no intention of leaving.
You barely manage to shift before his massive hands leave the cushions, wrapping around your back and locking you tight against his body. His grip is unyielding, pinning you flat to him, while thick fingers slip under the hem of your loose shirt, tracing slow patterns along your spine with his blunt nails.
"Stay put," he grumbles, voice going all low and rough. "You already ruined my nap. You don't get to just walk away now." Even as he tries to sound threatening, his arms tighten around you, making it painfully obvious he has no intention of letting you go.
"Oh, so you do want me here?" you whisper, tilting your head up to give him a smug, victorious grin.
Sukuna lets out a heavy, defeated sigh, his head tilting until his cheek rests on the top of your head as his thick leg hooks over yours, sealing you in.
"Shut up and sleep, menace," he mutters into your hair, fingers drawing lazy circles between your shoulder blades. "You really don't believe in personal space, do you? Every damn nap turns into this.”
"You don't mind," you mumble, nuzzling your cheek into his chest, eyes drifting shut as his touch lulls you toward sleep.
His chest expands beneath you with a deep, contented sigh before he presses a slow, lingering kiss into your messy hair, his grip never loosening.
"No," he murmurs softly into the quiet of the room. "I absolutely don't."
It doesn’t take long before his breathing slows, the lazy circles against your back growing fainter until they stop as sleep finally claims him, too.
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