...Well, Husband!Sukuna is actually being scolded by his wife, and he's taking it like a little bitch champ
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“Please, watch your step, my lady,” Uraume warned, taking the lead a few paces in front of you to guide you through the chaotic scene your husband had made of Shibuya. It was quite impressive, you had to admit, but you weren’t about to praise him for his mess–you’ve seen better, and you’ll make sure to let him know that as soon as you’re done giving him a piece of your mind.
They paused a few steps in front of you, waiting for you to catch up to offer you their hand and help you over the smoldering rubble. You paused when, above your head, you heard Sukuna’s familiar maniacal laughter as he toyed around with a curse, tossing the poor thing all over the city without any real effort or care for the civilians among you.
“Fucking manchild,” you sneered under your breath, following Uraume’s lead through the burning mess. In the distance, you watched a plane fall from the sky, crashing into a fiery pit of rubble before exploding. “His gluttonous need for mayhem disgusts me.”
Uraume chuckled, “I believe there was a time when you found that to be a charming attribute of his, my lady. And if I remember correctly, you used to eagerly partake in the chaos as well.”
“Don’t mistake my words, Uraume. I only meant that this madness isn’t something to indulge in alone–he’s keeping this all to himself.”
They hummed over your explanation with a small smile. “I see. You’re upset that you’ve been left out.”
“Precisely,” you hissed, taking their hand again when it was offered to you. “He should have waited for me.”
“To be fair, Sukuna-sama wasn’t aware that we’d be attending. Otherwise, I’m almost certain he would have waited for you.” You didn’t believe that for a single second. “This way, my lady. I believe their fight is nearing its end.”
When you finally set your eyes on your husband again, he was watching over the burning corpse of the curse he’d been fighting. At your side, Uraume dropped to their knee on the charred sphere you were standing on. In another life, one that was set a thousand years ago, you might’ve knelt before your king, too.
However, this was a different era, and you’d had a thousand years to stew in your anger and contempt after being neglected and abandoned by your husband. To say you were livid was an understatement; therefore, the only one who would be doing the kneeling between you and Sukuna was going to be Sukuna kneeling for you.
“Who are you?” he dared to ask, not even turning to look at you or Uraume.
“It’s nice to see you again, Sukuna-sama.”
You rolled your eyes at the pleasantries that always dripped off Uraume’s tongue when they addressed your husband–as if he deserved it.
“I’ll have to disagree with you, Uraume,” you gritted out, finally earning the attention of the insufferable man you bound yourself to all those years ago. “I feel rather nauseous upon our meeting.”
He glanced at you over his shoulder, red eyes, mirthless and unamused, narrowed in your direction as he tried to fit the familiar pieces together. Then, as if the realization struck him at once, they ever so slightly widened in surprise, then filled with just a touch of fear.
Good.
“You spineless coward.” His throat bobbed as he gulped, watching as you paced forward, paying no mind to the singed ruins burning the hem of your kimono. “You disgusting, petulant, monstrous, little brat–do you have any idea how long you’ve left me alone?! To deal with the consequences of your actions that you left behind without a moment’s notice?!”
He grabbed your wrist to stop you from stabbing your finger into his chest. “You’re angry-”
“Yes! I am angry! You did not tell me you were abandoning me-!”
“I did not abandon you-”
“Do not play dumb with me!” Your hand surged up to grab onto his face, fingers digging into his cheeks to pull him down to your level. So easily, he could have pried you away from him, yet he didn’t. Instead, he only rolled his eyes and waited for you to finish. “You said you were going away for a while.”
“And that was true. It has been a while, yes?”
“I did not think you meant a thousand years!”
“Your mistake then.”
You were about to grind your teeth down into little nubs with how tightly you were clenching your jaw. A sneering hiss passed your lips, and you harshly dragged your hand away from his face.
“This boy that you’re inhabiting–your vessel-”
“Yuji-”
“I do not care for the brat’s name!” Sukuna flinched at your tone. “Does he feel pain when you are fronting in his body?”
“No.”
“Good.”
With his answer, you didn’t hesitate to back hand him across the face, putting all your rage into the one swing. He grunted with the impact to his cheek, but took the attack as he should–wordlessly and without punishing you back.
The space around you went quiet, only filled by the crackling sound of embers and distant screams of anguish as you dragged your hand back, shaking out the tingles quickly before holding it out to him, which he begrudgingly took to heal it for you.
“That has quelled the worst of the anger.”
He only grunted in response to that, tracing his thumb over the back of your hand until it didn’t ache anymore.
“There.” When he let go of your hand, you didn’t pull it back. You kept it held out in front of him until he groaned and grabbed it, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before lowering it to your side in a soft, delicate motion. “Good?”
“Adequate,” you corrected him, crossing your arms and sliding your hands into the sleeves of your kimono. “With that out of the way, I will admit that I’ve missed you.”
He exhaled a faint sigh of relief, the smallest smile ticking up on the corners of his mouth before disappearing. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“Have you really?”
“Indeed. Want me to prove it to you?”
“No need.” Your nose curled at his insinuation, eyes glaring over his new body. “I’ll take your word for it. I’ve no interest in lying with someone so young and who lacks the proper number of appendages. You’re missing two of your arms.”
He chuckled, “Among other appendages, but yes, I’m aware.”
You grabbed the uniform he was wearing, bunching it in your fist to push it up to his chest, revealing his boringly bare torso, no belly mouth in sight. “And the best part about you is also missing. How tragic…”
“My apologies.”
With a scoff, you released the uniform top, returning your hands to your sleeves. “When will this affair be over? And I mean completely over. I want my husband back, and I want him in my husband’s body.”
“Hard to say. I have a few more things I’d like to do.”
“Make it quick then. I want to spend the New Year together-”
“It’s not that simple-” At his interjection, you raised your brows, making him fall silent before he sighed, “I’ll make it quick.”
“That's the way.” You took a small step toward him, closing the gap between you. “Lean down.”
When he did, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, which made him grumble, “That’s it?”
“It’s all you deserve.”
You gave his chest a pat before turning on your heel, only to be caught by your wrist and pulled back against him. His arms circled around your waist as his face pressed into the crook of your neck. Sukuna inhaled deeply and released it with a sated groan, hand dragging down your hips to palm your asscheek.
“You’re not really leaving already, are you?” He pressed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. “You should stay. I’ll fight you next. It'll be the most fun we've both had since I left.”
“No, thanks.” You let him place only one more kiss to your skin before pushing away. “Don’t make me wait too long, Sukuna. I’d hate to have to find someone else to take care of me.”
He snorted, “Like who? No one else can handle you.”
You shrugged innocently. “I hear Satoru Gojo’s in Shibuya. Sealed up tight in the prison realm. Maybe I’ll just take it for myself and free him. Maybe then I’d renounce my title as your queen and devote myself to fighting for his cause. Offer myself up as his wife, too–I’m sure he’d appreciate a step up in the competition, don’t you?”
You could feel his anger wafting off of him in waves, hitting you in the back of the neck as you grinned.
“I’ll kill you both.”
“Hurry up while you still have a wife waiting for you.” You hid your snickering behind your hand when you heard his irritated grumbling. “Let’s go, Uraume. I need a new kimono before you take me home.”
꒰ 𓈒 ׁ ︎ ︎ ✿ GOOD @ GOODBYES ! ㅅ `͈ 𓏼 )ა
first kiss 𝑤. ͏͏ sukuna ac. su2kuna ಎ
⎯⎯ ✉️ awky ⨍ reader 2.2k
the only shocking thing about ryomen sukuna was that he was a surprisingly good boyfriend. like, embarrassingly good to you.
he was still the occasional dickhead, obviously. but at least he nice about it. he always went at your pace, never pushed when you got shy or overwhelmed, never made you feel stupid for needing reassurance. hell, he even showed up with a bouquet of lilies for your first “official” date with him.
and the date itself wasn’t anything extravagant either. no fancy rooftop reservation, no over the top attempt to sweep you off your feet. just a quiet little restaurant tucked between buildings, warm lighting spilling across wooden tables while soft music played somewhere overhead.
simple. intimate. perfect for you.
a secluded booth in the corner, sukuna sitting across from you with an unfairly soft look in his eyes whenever you got shy and toyed with your food.
and you were doing fairly well. right up until the date ended that is.
because now here you were, heart hammering violently against your ribs, butterflies wrecking your stomach as you hurried, nearly ran, toward your apartment door, leaving behind one very confused sukuna standing a few steps away.
which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the smoothest way to end a date with your boyfriend.
“oi.”
you froze with your hand on your purse, about to reach for your keys, head snapping up at his voice as he made his way toward you, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
you turned your head slowly, eyes trailing up his tall frame, though looking at him only made things worse; his pink, coral strands faintly glowing under the streetlight, tan skin catching the light, black markings accentuating the sharpness of his features.
yeah. you didn’t stand a chance.
“. . . what?”
he scoffed. “what?” he mimicked under his breath, head tilting slightly, eyes sharp and fixed on you. “you forgetting something?”
your brain only buffered, eyes darting between his face and everything else: left, right, anywhere but him. “no..?” — humming under your breath as you dug through your purse.
lip gloss.
receipt.
wires.
a sonny angel, for some reason . . ?
everything but your keys.
normally, you weren’t this awkward. you just weren’t used to this. dates with people you actually found attractive. emotionally. intellectually. physically. romantically. sexually—
“you regret comin’ out with me?”
oh . . .
for a second you almost forgot he was there. well not really. sure, you tuned him out but you could definitely feel him. you could never really ignore ryomen sukuna; the sound of his breathing, the shift of his weight, his presence pressing against your senses, it was all there.
“what?” you blurted, finally looking at him in the eye.
sukuna leaned against the wall beside your door, pink hair shifting against his forehead, his expression unreadable, save for the faint amusement in his eyes.
“you heard me.”
your brows knitted together, mouth opening, then closing, before finally speaking: “no…”, your voice coming out a soft whisper.
his slitted eyebrow only cocked up at you, a faint laugh escaping his throat. “no?” the single word rolled off his tongue slowly, thick with amusement as he watched you, heat crawling higher up your neck under his stare, your movements growing clumsier the longer he looked at you.
“you’ve been diggin’ through that bag for, what, five minutes now. plus you nearly jumped outta a moving vehicle.” he continued lazily, pushing himself off the wall beside your door. “it makes a man wonder.”
“i’m not doing anything,” you said, quieter now, finally meeting his eyes for half a second before looking away again. “you’re the one who keeps staring me down.”
“mm,” he hummed, “so, lookin’ at you’s the issue.” his eyes flickering over your face once more, slow and unhurried. “that right?”
well, yes, that was part of the problem. but it wasn’t thee problem. because the actual problem was much worse. the actual problem was that you liked sukuna. like. like-liked. and he liked you too.
“well, no! i just—” what an insufferable man. “i really liked going out with you,” voice going a mile a minute before taking a deep breath, lacing your fingers together in front of you, fidgeting under his gaze. “i loved it.. actually.. i’m not trying to run from you or anything.”
“just nervous.”
“nervous?” he repeats after you, the word foreign on his tongue, “that’s what we’re callin’ it? you’re just embarrassed ‘cause you’ve got it bad for your boyfriend.”
your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, heat flooding your face all at once. “what?! no! don’t put words in my mouth.” you blurt, your hand flying up to shove his chest with a dull thud.
sukuna only lets out a low laugh before his hand comes up quickly to close around your wrist mid motion; his grip gentle but firm, holding you there as his other hand stays buried in his pocket. barely trying.
“so… you gonna say bye properly now?”
you gulp, your hand relaxing in his soft grip. “well… how do you want me to say bye?”
sukuna doesn’t answer, instead, he gently lowers your hand between you, scarlet eyes locking onto your softer, pliant eyes.
“your call.”
and the space between you two seems to freeze, soft silence of the night stretching between the two of you. easy on his end, unbearable on yours.
“w—well…” your eyes flick between his for a second before betraying you entirely, dipping down to his lips without meaning to. “i—” you huff. your throat feels dry, yet it feels unreasonable. sukuna wouldn’t judge you, you hope.
“i wanna kiss you… goodbye...”
“platonically,” you added after a moment.
. . .
his brows lifted slowly.
“you wanna kiss me. platonically?”
“um.” your voice came out smaller than intended. “yes.”
“yeah? and i’m sure those pretty little eyes of yours are lookin’ at me real platonically too.”
“that too.”
silence.
then sukuna hummed low in his throat, all amusement, already taking a step back.
“ah. got it.” he turned slightly, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “well, in that case— have a nice night.”
your eyes widened immediately. “wait—”
he kept walking.
not far. just enough to be annoying.
“sukunaaa,” you whined, hurrying after him before your fingers caught around his forearm, dragging him back to your doorstep. “not like that.”
a soft huff escapes him, his mouth quirking upwards, canines softly refracting the dim light — not quite a smile, but rather satisfaction. “hm?” he glanced down at your hand on his arm. “so now it’s not like that?”
your grip tightens for a second before you realize it and quickly loosen your hand, heat rushing straight to your face. “i—no, i mean—just—don’t pretend you don’t know what i mean…”
his gaze flicks over your face for a second, slow and unreadable, before he scoffs “you’re the one makin’ it complicated.”
“shut up,” you mutter instantly, but there’s no real bite to it, just embarrassment as you finally tug him a little closer.
his hand comes up, settling near your jaw, thumb resting against your warm cheek. your fingers catch lightly at the front of his shirt as you rise onto your toes.
before you could overthink, your lips meet his.
it’s quick. chaste. shy even.
his eyes flutter shut a moment after, his free hand coming out of his pocket to steady you by the waist, warm and heavy, yet restrained, seeping through your clothes.
he doesn’t kiss you back immediately, letting you mold against him. he tilted his head, lips pressing gently against yours; warm, and embarrassingly sweet.
you pull off his lips slowly, a hesitant look in your eyes, your breath catching lightly as you settle back down flat on your feet, hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt.
your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could hear it. did he like it? did he think you were a bad kisser? to be fair, you didn’t kiss many people. or often. but what if—
“hell,” he mutters, like he didn’t expect that, “you even kiss cute. kinda sweet.”
you pant, “what does that even mean?”
his gaze flicks back to your mouth and the slight furrow of your eyebrows.
the way your fingers still cling lightly to his shirt, the shy warmth clinging to your skin, even that stupid little clip tucked into your hair.
a quiet exhale leaves him through his nose, almost a laugh.
he lets out a soft laugh, leaning down slightly to your height. “i’m annoying?”
you only nod, biting down on the plush of your lip before looking away again, suddenly very interested in anything but him.
except before you could give an actual rebuttal, his lips meet yours deeper this time, no longer testing the waters. still gentle, but an unspoken certainty lingering in the way he kissed you. his mouth warm against yours, moving slow and unhurried, giving you all the time in the world to keep up, hell, even backout if you wanted to, the space between you disappearing.
his hand shifts from your waist up to your jaw, cradling your face and simply holding you in place for the moment. his other arm staying firm at your side, keeping you close without pulling too hard, steadying your wobbly steps against him.
you swallow down a gasp before your eyes slip shut, your nose bumping lightly against his, the angle a little awkward, a little clumsy, yet perfectly you.
it only makes him breathe out something softer against your mouth, amused, as if it’s exactly what he expected from you.
the kiss deepens for a few more seconds — slow, and warm — until it didn’t feel like teasing anymore. just a need held taut beneath careful restraint.
then he pulls back just slightly, just enough for air, his thumb still lingering at your cheek, in no rush to let you go.
“okay . . . was that . . a good goodbye?” you murmur, breathless, still a little dazed as you finally force yourself to step back.
he lets out a low “hm” under his breath, his thumb dragging lightly against your cheek. “yeah. it was good.”
“s’pose i can let you go now.” removing his hands from your sides, drawing a small, inward pout from you.
your hands went back to your purse, fingers already digging through it again—until sukuna stopped you.
“here.”
you pause.
and there they were.
your keys, dangling right in front of your face from his fingers with a soft jingle, cute, colorful keychains swinging in the quiet night air. you gasp before snatching them immediately.
“you bastard! you saw me looking for them!”
he lets out a soft huff of laughter, not even trying to defend himself. “you dropped them while you were busy runnin’ from me,” he hums, shifting his weight back against the brick wall beside him, a faint, sly smirk settling in on that stupidly handsome face of his, “when i asked if you forgot somethin’, you said no.”
you scoff before rolling your eyes, “well! i thought you were talking about saying bye?!”
his gaze flicks over you, steady and thoroughly amused. “two things can be true at once.”
you make a small sound of frustration and snatch the keys tighter in your hand, glaring up at him through your lashes anyway.
“…thanks,” you mutter.
“…go on,” he murmurs, voice low. “before i change my mind and keep you right here.”
and you knew he wasn’t joking. that man was about one breath from devouring you right then and there.
you turn quickly, fumbling with the lock, the soft jingle of your keys echoing in the stillness, his presence still radiating from behind you. his gaze dropped briefly to your hands . . .
“you alright?”
“yes.”
“you’ve missed your keyhole three times now.”
“i know!” you shoot back immediately.
the door unlocked with a soft click, warm light spilling out into the hallway.
“ okay . . . ” you hummed.
“okay,” he repeated, looking down at you expectantly, waiting for you to head inside.
but instead, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist.
a low, rough laugh rumbled out of him before his arms circled around you instantly, strong biceps trapping your head against his chest. his scent, a deep, clean mix of cologne, so distinctly him, filling up your senses and making your head feel all dizzy.
despite his rough exterior, sukuna was soft, surprisingly so. maybe it was the steady weight of his chest against your body, or maybe it was the quiet way he held you that made it hard to think. either way.
you liked it.
you pulled away first with a small cough and an awkward straightening of your clothes, cheeks warm enough to burn through metal.
“okay! um— bye, sukuna,” you blurted awkwardly, already backing toward your apartment door.
except your shoulder clipped the doorframe on the way in.
“fuck—”
you fumbled with the handle in a panic before practically stumbling inside. “bye! goodnight!”
and then, you’re gone.
the door shutting a little too hard behind you, a muffled “ow!” coming from behind the door.
outside, sukuna exhales through his nose, shaking his head as the corner of his mouth curled upward.
𝜗𝒞 husband!toji and your son don’t play when it comes to you. mlist.
the sun beats down softly on the neighborhood park. megumi’s small sneakers kick up tiny clouds of dust as he scrambles up the slide ladder for the fifth time, his dark hair sticking out in every direction. you sit on a bench opposite of it, keeping half an eye on him while scrolling absently on your phone.
toji stretches beside you, one arm draped lazily along the backrest behind your shoulders.
“look, mama!” megumi calls out from the top of the slide, waving both arms wildly to get your attention.
you wave back with a grin, “i see you, baby! big slide this time, huh?”
toji huffs a quiet laugh at the sight of his son, “kid’s fearless. gets that from me.”
“mm, or from the fact you let him climb on literally everything at home,” you tease before nudging his side.
your husband can only smirk at that. he tilts his head toward the colorful truck parked near the entrance gates, its cheerful jingle floating over the playground. “i’m gonna grab us some ice cream before that line gets longer. ya want the usual?”
you nod happily, “cookie dough flavor, please.”
“got it,” he stands, ruffling your hair on his way past—his version of affection in public, “don’t let the lil’ gremlin run off.”
megumi still waves wildly from the top of the slide, wanting your eyes on him the entire time so he can show off his skills. “mamaaa! watch!”
“i’m watching, baby!” you call back, laughing as he launches himself down with a gleeful yell.
toji heads off toward the truck with his hands in his pockets, broad shoulders cutting an easy path through the scattered families. you turn your attention back to megumi again, who’s now trying to cross the monkey bars with fierce determination and very little upper-body strength.
suddenly, a shadow falls over the bench. you glance up to find a man standing there. he looks like he’s in his mid-thirties, polo shirt, friendly smile that’s just a shade too bright.
“mind if i sit?” he asks, already lowering himself beside you without waiting on an answer. he nods to megumi, “cute kid. yours?”
you shift away slightly, giving him a polite nod. you feel uncomfortable already, “yeah. thanks.”
he leans forward, elbows on his knees, watching megumi dangle from the bars. “he’s got energy. bet he keeps you on your toes,” his gaze slides to you, “you come here often? i feel like i’d remember seeing a beautiful lady like you.”
the compliment lands heavy. even more because it’s unwarranted. you offer a tight smile, “we try to come on weekends.”
“lucky weekends, then,” he grins, teeth white and even. “i’m kyle, by the way. just moved to the area. always nice to meet friendly faces. especially ones as pretty as yours.”
before you can respond, small footsteps thunder toward you. megumi abandons the monkey bars mid-dangle and bolts over, cheeks flushed a rosy pink, eyes wide as he takes in the stranger sitting next to you. without a word, he climbs straight into your lap, wrapping his arms around your neck like he’s staking a claim.
“mama,” he says seriously, staring at kyle with that unblinking stare only little kids can manage, “want juice now.”
you bite back a laugh at that protective yet adorable tone of his, hugging the little child close. “we only have water in the bag, sweetie. but papa’s getting ice cream, ‘kay?”
kyle chuckles awkwardly as he senses megumi staring intently at him. “hey, little man. you’re a fast runner.”
megumi just burrowes closer to you, resting his head on your shoulder with a huff, “hmph, you’re not my papa.”
toji appears at the edge of the playground, three ice cream cones balanced easily in his large hands. even from where you’re seated you can see the shift in demeanour—the way his lazy stride goes still, shoulders lightly squaring and chin lifting as he clocks the man sitting too close.
he reaches the bench in a few long steps. he doesn’t say anything at first, just looms, all sharp edges and quiet menace. kyle finally trails off mid-sentence.
toji hands you your cookie dough cone, megumi a smaller one with sprinkles and keeps the plain vanilla for himself. then he sits—directly between you and kyle, forcing the stranger to scoot over or be sat on. he chooses scooting.
“problem?” toji asks, his voice low and flat, piercing eyes hidden behind the sunglasses as he nonchalantly takes a slow bite of his cone.
the man blinks, “uh, no. just chatting.”
toji turns his head toward you, ignoring kyle entirely. “he bothering you?”
you shake your head slightly. you’re more amused than anything now that toji’s here, “we’re fine.”
megumi, now oblivious to the tension, licks his ice cream happily. he’s already forgot all about the strange man now that his father has returned, “papa, look! sprinkles!”
toji’s mouth curves. just barely. still trying to hold himself back from making a scene. “nice choice, kid,” he hums before glancing sideways at kyle.
“playground’s big. y’know—lots of empty benches.”
toji’s tone reveals that it isn’t a simple suggestion, but a clear warning that the stranger should immediately leave if he doesn’t want to find out what a man would do for his wife’s comfort.
kyle stands quickly, brushing imaginary dirt from his pants. “yeah, i should. . . nice m-meeting you,” he stammers and hurries off without looking back.
you nudge toji’s shoulder with yours after kyle disappears from sight. “jealous much?” you tease, though you’re quite grateful for your husband’s intervention.
toji grunts whilst licking a drip from his cone. “not jealous. just don’t like strangers thinkin’ they can as much as talk to my wife.”
“so you are,” you laugh and press a kiss to toji’s cheek. it’s adorable in a way. this big, muscular gruff man being jealous and protective.
megumi interrupts as he finishes his ice cream cone in record time. he tugs at toji’s sleeve with a whine, already hopping off your lap, “papa! push me on the swing?”
toji stands with a grunt, scooping megumi up with one arm while still holding his ice cream in the other, “higher than last time?”
“yes!” megumi cheers loudly.
you watch them head toward the swings. toji’s indulgent smirk and megumi’s little legs kicking in excitement put a smile on your face.
some things never change. and you wouldn’t want them to.
(｡ᵕ ◞ _◟) clingy baby saga continued, ft. breastfeeding toji
megumi had officially became a velcro baby.
megumi always started the day crying in his crib, refusing to stop until you took him in his arms. his clinginess meant that you had to be the one who was doing all the feeding, changing diapers, nap times and what not.
getting megumi to sleep in his crib was a nightmare. you wanted to start planning to wean him off the nip but it seemed like a far fetched dream.
toji could see your sanity slipping. your sleep schedule was getting messed up, you were barely awake, having to get up to breastfeed him since he refuses the bottle vehemently, constantly holding him - and trust me, toji’s baby was not light.
“you should get out for a day,” toji said without turning away from the stove. “check into a hotel and get some proper rest.”
you sighed, megumi nibbling on pancake bits on your lap, refusing to sit in his high chair, “i dont know if that’s doable. feels impossible to detach myself from megumi.”
he turned, shaking his head, “indulging him will make it worse. you need rest, baby.”
“i know,” you shut your eyes for a minute, “it’ll be a nightmare for you.”
“i know,” he breathed out a laugh, “that brat holds onto you like he’s trying to worm his way back in your womb.”
you threw a grape at him, but you were laughing too.
“please,” he placed a plate in front of you, “you need rest.”
your tired eyes met his worried ones. a beat passed in silence.
you conceded, “okay.”
———
toji helped you carry your bag to the car, throwing it inside. the sun was barely up, soft rays peeking through the sparse clouds.
you checked your purse for your phone & wallet and looked up to meet your husband’s eyes.
“are you sure?” you asked him for the fifteenth time.
toji just smiled patiently, “you’re not allowed to worry your pretty brain today, remember?” he stepped towards you to circle his arms around your waist.
your arms instinctively looped around his neck as you looked up at your husband. you ran your hand over his stubble, reaching on your toes to press a kiss on his chin before pulling back.
he chased after you, planting his lips on yours.
you stayed that way for a minute, revelling in the rare moment of intimacy without stressing about anything else.
“wish i could drive you, doll,” toji mumbled into your lips.
“it’s best you don’t,” you reassured him, knowing that if megumi came with you both in the car he’d start up a tantrum before your getaway could even have a chance to start.
you both pulled away and said your goodbyes before you drove to a luxury hotel your husband booked for you, excited to nap and drink and do whatever else the package includes.
———
the first cries of the baby echoed in an empty feeling house shortly after you had left.
toji had remained awake, working around the house, sterilising megumi’s bottles & clothes, throwing something in the microwave for himself, picking up discarded socks and jackets off the floor.
he straightened his shoulders as he walked towards his son’s nursery.
“morning, bud,” his voice was still gruff as he picked the tiny creature out of the crib.
megumi stilled for a moment, looking up at his father’s face and then around the room to find his mom.
his face started scrunching up more the longer it took you to materialise out of thin air, tiny fists balling into his father’s shirt as he started getting ready to bawl.
“easy, kid,” toji kept his tone neutral, determined to not show megumi how nervous he was. he walked to the changing table and laid him down on it.
toji managed to get him into new nappies and megumi only cried halfway through it. once he realised his mom was not coming even though it’s been literally five minutes since he woke up.
“fucking hell, brat,” toji picked him off the table and thus started his eight hour long attempts of keeping his son from crying himself to dehydration.
he was not going to give in and call you before the eight hours were up.
his grip tightened on his squirming son as he walked out into the kitchen with determination.
———
getting the kid to eat was proving to be fucking impossible. toji was about to pull his hair out and it had been only 38 minutes since you left and 17 minutes since megumi woke up.
megumi’s tantrum due to lack of mama was amplified due to his hunger. the milk dispensing nipple was nowhere to be found and the baby was simply inconsolable.
“can you at least try the bottle,” toji brought up the bottle back to his son’s lips, only to be met with more crying and resistance. again.
he set the bottle on the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose while he held the crying machine in his other arm.
….seven. eight. nine. FUCK.
the breathing and counting exercise suggested by his therapist was fucking bullshit. toji gnashed his teeth as he thought of what to do next.
megumi was now pawing at his chest, like he did with you whenever he was hungry.
an idea popped into his head as he looked down at his son.
“hell no.” toji swore as he met his little devil’s eyes. almost as if megumi could read his mind he started whining more.
“just fucking kill me.”
that is how he ended up on the coach, a hole in his shirt in which he inserted the stupid baby’s stupid bottle through, trying to imitate the boob.
megumi looked downright offended as he stared at his audacious father’s pathetic attempt at replacing you.
toji sputtered, taken aback by the baby’s reaction, “what?! there’s a damn boob, you brat.”
megumi’s face scrunched up again, and then commenced a new wailing session.
toji was getting really concerned now, megumi had not only refused any sustenance so far but he was also rapidly expending his energy on crying so much. at this rate, he was going to make himself ill.
toji considered giving in and calling you here for a second and then he saw your texts.
toji closed his eyes as he rocked megumi, knowing it was a futile attempt to calm him. he hit dial.
“baby?”
“hi doll,” toji stuck the phone between his ear and shoulder as took out the bottle inside his shirt.
“is everything okay? why is megumi crying? oh god, toji, should i come back??”
“calm down babydoll,” toji grimaced as he held megumi away from the phone. “everything’s just fine.”
“are you lying to me?”
“a little,” toji admitted, raising his eyes heavenward. “but ‘s all fine. how’s the spa.”
“what do you mean a little? tell me everything. should i come back home?”
“I’ve got things under control, trying something new, megumi will adjust eventually,” he prayed he could actually hold his promise as he said, “trust me, will ya?”
you went quiet for a while and then sighed. “okay.”
“so how’s the spa?” megumi was starting to doze off on toji and he took the opportunity to head to his office, megumi asleep against his chest and you telling him your itinerary for the day, majority of which was catching up on sleep.
he could sense the apprehension in your voice but the elation was hard to hide. it choked him up a little to think of how much of a toll the last couple of weeks must’ve taken on you for you to need ab escape to be relaxed.
he revved up the printer, making minimal movements. this was the first time megumi was quiet in his arms and that was literally because he cried himself to exhaustion.
“alright doll,” he whispered after you were done telling him about the massage he had booked you was starting in a few minutes. “have fun, i love you.”
“I love you, too, toji.”
“alright,” placing the phone down, toji grabbed some tape & collected the paper from the printer, heading to the kitchen with megumi in his arms to reheat his milk.
when megumi woke up, laid down in the hard, muscly arms of his dad but his face was…you?
a distorted image of his mom looked down at him, muffled voices that sounded suspiciously like his father’s coming out of his..mom?
“ma mama?” megumi babbled drowsily, confused as he reached out his chubby tiny fists towards his mom.
toji - no, megumi’s mama - just nodded and raised him up to the bottle nip sticking out of the shirt. megumi, too tired to think and too hungry to resist, finally relaxed and let himself be fed for the first time today.
toji sighed in relief as megumi bought his mother act. sure, he might have almost died of humiliation every step of the way and sure, he might have a raging headache and a grumbling stomach but at least his baby was fed and his wife was relaxing.
———
later, when you returned home, megumi had become even more clingy but… at least you were very well rested. you didn’t question the printout of your face on the coffee table or the hole in toji’s shirt right where his pec is.
a/n : idk if i love it goodnight guys cu tomorrow dont hate me pls :’(
ꨄ︎ toji and creative!reader who makes him something to keep him company on his missions.
.ᐟ cw. none , purely fluff , requested by anon.
toji's collection of belongings has grown drastically more diverse since he begun dating you; from his numerous matching bracelets and necklaces, to even some of his sweatshirts and socks that have been graciously crafted by your gifted hands.
you've always been one to have multiple hobbies and outlets to pour your creativity into and toji's more than happy to accept any gifts you place into his hands, hell, he doesn't even need to waste any of his cash on overpriced dishware when he has you making weekly coffee mugs and bowls simply for the satisfaction of stimulating your hands.
his favorite trinket, however, is something special you gifted him just for his missions.
the cold night air whips against toji's face as he sits on the rooftop of some building in shibuya, impatiently waiting for the time to pass on so his damn target just pull up already and he can get all this over with to come back home to you.
he's digging in his dufflebag for something to eat when his hand brushes against it and a small smile subconsciously creeps onto his scarred lips as he pulls it out, your words echoing in his mind as he turns it over in his hand.
"look, now you won't get lonely when you leave. i even made one of you too so i can have my own~"
the gift is a miniature plush, crotched version of you, same skin tone, hair colour, favourite dress and everything, and toji can't help the warm feeling that swirls in his chest as he looks down at mini-you's adorable smiling face.
it's moments like these when he remembers what he's even going on missions for; so that he can buy you that pretty ring he saw saved in your pinterest and that perfect house you'll be able to fill all of your creations to the brim with.
he places the doll onto the brick wall and takes a picture with his phone, letting out a content sigh as he sends you a quick message.
toji<3: [1 image attachment] my pretty girl making sure i get home safe ❤︎
“I want mama!” your son screams, tears filling up his eyes—the same color as Nanami’s.
And speaking of Nanami…he feels helpless.
The boy won’t stop crying, won’t stop calling for you. His little face is red and scrunched up, his cheeks wet, chest heaving with each shaky breath. You’d told him you’d be gone for a few hours—explained it gently, with a kiss to his forehead and a promise that Papa would take care of everything. But none of it seemed to matter.
You’re gone and his world feels like it’s ended.
“Please, baby…Mum will be back any time soon.” Nanami spares a glance at the clock, in thirty minutes you’d be here. “Should we finish your meal in the meantime, mh?” He tries, voice tight, panic folding over his usual calm.
But your son only screams louder, fists pounding the highchair tray, tears flowing freely.
It’s been hours, and Nanami has come to the conclusion that : he doesn’t want me.
He stares at his son’s red, tear-slicked face. There’s no hatred in it, just unfiltered, helpless longing.
“I want Mamaaaaaa!!” Nanami flinches. Exactly, the toddler is longing for you.
The little boy’s small chest rises and falls in erratic sobs, hiccupping on the edge of breathlessness.
Nanami exhales slowly through his nose. You can do this, he tells himself. You’re his father. You can do this.
So, he tries.
He pulls out the little wooden train you carved together one weekend. Places it on the floor. “Do you want to show Papa how fast it goes again?” he asks, voice as gentle as possible.
No response.
He tries the animal book—the one with flaps and texture that always make him giggle. “Tell Papa where’s the lion. Can you find the lion for me?”
Nothing.
Just a heartbreaking, hoarse little “Mama…”
Nanami even tries to put on the cartoon with the talking blue bear. The one your son usually dances to.
As nothing seems to work, Kento feels his heart breaking inch by inch. He picks him up despite the flailing little arms, holds him against his chest, firm but not tight, like you’ve teached him.
His son won’t stop. Not even a little. The screams turn into an open-mouthed wail, the kind that turns cheeks purple and voices raw for hours.
Nanami’s hands tremble slightly. He sits down on the floor with the boy in his lap, gently cradling him, head bowed. He’s never felt this powerless.
Not during cursed missions, not under pressure—but here, in his own home, with his child breaking apart in his arms… He feels not enough.
Not soft enough.
Not warm enough.
Not you.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the crown of his son’s head. “I’m trying. Papa’s trying so hard.”
And that’s when the front door creaks open. “I’m home!”
And just like that, your son’s head snaps up from where he’s been sobbing into Nanami’s lap. Your husband doesn’t even have the time to rise to his feet that the boy is squirming violently in his arms, “mama! Mama! MAMA!!” Nanami lets him go without resistance. He stands slowly as your son flings himself into your arms when you appear in the doorway.
Concern is written all over your face. “I’m here, baby. I’m here…” you look up and see Nanami standing a few feet away, shoulders sagging, eyes tired behind his glasses.
“he’s been crying for hours,” he says softly. “didn’t want anything from me. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t play.”
You nod as your rubs your son’s back. “I’m sorry. He’s just been going through this clingy phase.”
“I know.” Nanami offers a tired smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “it’s okay.”
Later, after dinner and a bath your son is finally asleep, curled on your side of the shared bed, clutching one of your shirts tightly, your scent comforting him.
Nanami stands in the doorway, arms crosses, watching the soft rise and fall of your kid. You come up behind him, circling his waist with your arms, letting your cheek rest on his strong back.
One of his hands intertwin with yours. “He wouldn’t even let me hold him,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt that…useless before.”
“Kento…”
“I know he’s still small. I know it’s not personal. But…” he pauses, swallowing hard. “I tried everything. Toys, books, food, music. He didn’t want any of it. It felt like…like…I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t…probably am, not a good dad.”
Your heart twists at the words. “Can you please turn to face me, love?”
He lets out a deep exhale, like the breath hurts to let go, and turns. When his eyes meet yours, you feel like the weight of the whole world just collapsed onto your chest.
Nanami is silently crying.
His eyes are rimmed red, and cheeks drenched wet.
You gently cup his jaw. “You were more than enough Kento. You held him even when he didn’t want to be held. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t walk away. You didn’t even raise your voice once. That’s not just ‘enough’. That’s what a good dad does. That’s love.”
He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as more tears gather in his long blonde lashes. “I just…” his voice breaks. “I just wanted to be what he needed.”
Nanami wraps his arms around you tighter, letting his forehead drop to your shoulder. He breathes into your neck, letting your scent comforting him—just like his son does.
“I don’t mind not being the favorite,” he murmurs after a while, his voice quiet and raw. “But I hope, one day, he’ll reach for me too.”
You press a kiss the top of his head, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “He will. And when he does…he won’t want to let go.”
sukuna proposes to you infront of the laundry machine
“you put the red sock in with the whites again, didn’t you?”
you stand in the doorway of the laundry room, arms crossed, trying and failing to hold back your laughter.
sukuna, the king of curses, destroyer of worlds, menace to humanity, was staring at the washing machine like it had personally insulted him.
“it was one sock,” he mutters, glaring at the slowly turning load through the glass door. “how was i supposed to know one tiny thing could ruin everything?”
you walk over and leaned against his arm, peering into the machine. one of his white shirts is now a suspicious shade of pink.
“because i told you last week,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.
his eyes narrow at you, but there was no bite to it. not when his hand immediately comes to rest at your waist, pulling you closer with habitual ease.
“you’re enjoying this far too much.”
“i am,” you admit with a grin. “it’s cute.”
“cute?” he repeats, sounding offended in the most dramatic way possible. “i am many things, woman. terrifying. powerful. devastatingly handsome.”
you look up at him. “and cute.”
he huffs, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
the room fills with the steady hum of the washer and the soft scent of detergent. it is domestic in the strangest, sweetest way—something you never thought you’d associate with sukuna.
he was always so composed in battle, so effortlessly confident in everything he did.
except dates.
dates turned him into the most absurdly nervous man alive.
the first time he took you out, he spent twenty minutes pretending not to care which restaurant you picked, only to nearly crush the steering wheel because he was worried you wouldn’t like the food.
the second date, he showed up with flowers and then acted like they had magically appeared in his hand.
now here he is, looking more tense over laundry than he ever had in a fight.
you reach for the detergent bottle on the shelf above, but before your fingers could touch it, sukuna catches your wrist.
“wait.”
his voice is strange, quieter.
you turn to him, brows lifting. “what is it?”
for once, he looks genuinely unsure.
sukuna glances at the washing machine, then at the basket of unfolded clothes, then back at you as if searching for the least ridiculous place in the room to focus.
“i had a plan,” he sighs, voice trembling.
you blink. “for the laundry?”
“for this,” he corrects you, and then, to your complete shock, he reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants.
and pulls out a small velvet box.
“sukuna—”
“before you say anything,” he interrupts quickly, almost suspiciously flustered, “i was going to do this at dinner.”
you look at him, stunned and already smiling.
he scowls at the floor. “but every time i take you out, i get nervous.”
that make you laugh softly. “you? nervous?”
his gaze snaps to yours, and there is something so vulnerable beneath the annoyance that your heart melts.
“with you, yes.”
your breath catches.
he opens the box, revealing a ring that sparkled under the dim laundry room light.
then dramatically drops down to one knee.
“so i figured,” he continues, voice rougher now, “if i asked you here, while we’re arguing over socks and detergent, maybe i wouldn’t lose my mind.”
a laugh escapes you, watery with tears.
“are you proposing to me in the laundry room?”
“i am proposing to you beside a cursed washing machine and a pink shirt,” he says dryly, shrugging. “try to appreciate the romance.”
you laugh harder, covering your mouth.
he stands up straight, then he steps closer, one hand cupping your cheek.
“marry me,” he says softly. “let me spend the rest of my life ruining laundry and making you laugh.”
your eyes burn with happy tears. “yes,” you whispers, then louder, smiling so hard it hurt, “yes, of course i’ll marry you.”
for the first time all evening, sukuna looked relieved.
then the washer beeps loudly, and you both glance at it.
“your shirt is still pink,” you laugh agaisnt him.
he slips the ring onto your finger and pulls you into his arms, lips brushing your forehead.
“then i suppose,” he murmurs, smiling against your skin, “pink is my color now.”
Smau: in which you left your ring at home and they wonder why
Warning: angsty, but mostly fluff, some cursing, not proofread
Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna
@realalpacorn I hope this was good 😣 it got a bit repetitive and stupid I’m sorry 😭 I think I’m a little rusty at this angst thing bae forgive me
ᓚᘏᗢ ⦂ bringing girl dad!toji to your daughter’s shot appointment has yet to be the worst decision of your life…
“okay, deep breath, toji. she’s fine. it’s just a routine thing. we talked about this.” you’re starting to regret asking him to drive you to the hospital.
“i know, babe, i know, but—did you see her face?!”
toji’s pacing outside the pediatrician’s office like he’s about to storm a government facility. like he’s on a mission. except the mission is his toddler not getting poked by any more “cruel, heartless needles.” he’s got one rough and big hand dragging down his face, eyes glossy, shirt collar stretched slightly where your daughter had clung to it before the nurse gently pried her away.
you’re sitting in the hallway chair holding said daughter, a year and half years old, baby-fat arms, dimpled knees, and teary eyes still red from her brief betrayal. she’s sniffly but soothed now, head tucked against your chest, one hand tangled in your shirt.
meanwhile the mighty, collected, very well behaved toji is in shambles.
“they stabbed her,” he mutters dramatically, like it wasn’t a literal trained nurse giving a vaccine in a sterile, kid-safe room. “she looked at me like i handed her over to get executed.”
“baby, it’s a shot. she’s literally going to forget in five minutes.” you try to calm him, which was not helping at all by the way.
“i’m not,” he says, hand over his heart like he just watched a shakespearean tragedy.
you blink. “…are you crying?”
“no.” he sniffs. “i’m sweating. from my eyes. it’s different.”
you fight a laugh, even as you rock your baby girl gently on your lap. “you didn’t cry when you literally got stabbed.”
“that’s different. i signed up to get stabbed. she just wanted a juice box and some bluey reruns, and they came at her with a syringe like she’s an adult.”
you lean back in the chair and look at him, arms cradling your daughter while her breathing evens out. “you’re being ridiculous.”
“am i?” he gestures toward your daughter’s tiny arm, still with the little bandaid on it. “she has a wound, baby. it’s gonna scar her”
okay now he’s being very dramatic, you raise an eyebrow. “it’s a dinosaur bandaid.”
“yeah. a purple dinosaur. her least favorite color.”
“…she’s not even fully aware of colors yet.”
“that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel the betrayal.”
you don’t remember when he got up, too focused on how you’re trying to ease him down. you roll your eyes affectionately and pat the seat next to you. “sit down, drama king. she’s fine, you’re the one who needs a juice box.”
he finally huffs and sits, dramatically sagging into the chair beside you with a big, rough-man sigh that rattles his chest. and then your daughter, like the little emotional kryptonite she is, shifts in your arms, sniffs, lifts her head, and sees him.
“dada…” she whimpers, bottom lip wobbling.
“oh no,” toji breathes, already leaning forward. “no no no, come here, baby, don’t cry—i’m the one who should be crying—”
he opens his arms and she immediately scrambles over to him, face still tear-streaked but already soothed by the sound of his voice. she burrows into his chest and he wraps her up so tightly it’s like he’s shielding her from the entire medical establishment.
“shhh. daddy’s got you. daddy’s gonna fight the needle monster next time, okay? i got hands for all of them. no one touches you again.”
you’re giggling now, covering your mouth. “you’re gonna square up with a pediatric nurse?”
“damn right i am,” he says, face buried in her baby curls. “with a vengeance.”
your daughter makes a soft little hiccup of a sigh, her hand patting his shoulder like he’s the one who needs comforting now. and you’re watching the man who once cleaved enemies in half practically crumble into a puddle because his tiny daughter got a standard immunization.
“she’s braver than i ever was,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “absolute little warrior. my sweet lil killer baby.”
“killer?” you snort.
“killer cute, i mean. obviously.” you’re done with this man.
you lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder. “you know she’s gonna get like four more shots next year, right?”
he goes silent.
“…toji?”
“we’re skipping town.”
“what.” you’re caught off guard.
“going off-grid. living in the woods. raising her feral. no more needles, no more betrayal, just vibes and dirt and blueberries.” he gives the mini creation of you both on his lap with a determined look.
you laugh into his bicep. your daughter hums softly in his lap, now peacefully chewing on the collar of his shirt, completely unbothered. you watch toji watch her—and he’s got that look again. the one he gets when she does anything remotely adorable, like blink or exist.
god, he’s doomed for her. and you’re doomed for both of them.
“you’re so pathetic,” you whisper jokingly and he doesn’t even flinch. toji just smiles, soft and teary-eyed.
“yeah,” he says, kissing his daughter’s little forehead. “and i’d die for her.”
“hedgehog!” 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ
in which baby megumi doesn’t recognise dad!toji with stubble!
content: fluff, husband!toji x reader, baby megumi, reader as mamaguro (if you want), domestic toji
you’re in bed, propped up on your side and reading a book as the dim lamplight washes over your skin in hazy flickers. the house is uncharacteristically silent, with megumi in bed and toji away on a mission, and you sigh in relief.
it isn’t like megumi’s a particularly difficult kid — rather, he’s almost concerningly quiet for a four year old, his penetrating gaze unsettlingly perceptive at times — but he’s a kid nonetheless, and what with toji away on mission after mission to support your little family, you tell yourself that the least you can do is try. to fill in the gaps that are left, to show up, to be there for your son.
so you make it your life’s mission to give megumi your absolute undivided attention. to take him out to feed the ducks, to watch pokémon with him, to doodle with him.
sure, the overall family dynamic may be a little rocky and unfamiliar at times, but it’s yours nonetheless. after all, with toji insisting on taking up more and more missions to provide for you and megumi, it at least meant that you could spend more time with your son.
you smile to yourself a little when you hear the door from the hallway.
click!
you look up from your book just in time to see those familiar deep green eyes, the light of your lamp falling across the lick of pale flesh that curled its way across his lips to form a handsome scar. you prop yourself up on your elbows, smiling at your husband.
he looks worn down — exhausted — and yet he’s still wearing that familiar lazy smile he always seems to brandish only for you. he walks slowly to the bed, and you can’t help but note a tiny limp in his step, but you say nothing, instead watching as he sits down beside you, feeling the mattress sink with the added weight.
sitting up properly now, you inspect his face, your eyes raking across those tired, sincere features. you blink slightly at the sight of newly grown stubble. he’d only been gone a week, and yet within that time the gentlest lick of dark fuzz had appeared across his face.
“you’re back.” you breathe out, leaning forward to brush his hair back a little, thumbing through the straight inky strands. “gumi’s asleep…just put him to bed twenty minutes ago. i didn’t know you’d be back so soon, otherwise i’d have—”
you feel a big hand come to meet the crown of your head as he gently ruffles your hair with a smile, a silent attempt at calming your rambling. you lean into his touch almost instinctively, the gentleness of his touch entirely contradicting his sharp, jagged demeanour.
“nah, it’s okay. i missed you guys.” his voice is hoarse, rough around the edges but unmistakably laced with a kind of reserved tenderness.
you smile, and it’s not long before you’re both in bed, him now fully showered, a lazy arm resting around your waist. he exhales against your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, practically breathing in the warm air around you both, the soothing motion of his thumb against your waist lulling you into a state of drowsiness until eventually you’re both asleep.
but that doesn’t last long. the blissful sleep, the gentle bubble of contented relief, is broken by the slivers of morning light across your face and the tug of a small hand on your sleeve. you blink drearily, lashes fluttering back shut slightly in a weak attempt to block out the intense morning light. you feel you vision begin to piece together eventually only to be met by your expectant 4 year old’s face staring up at you, expression serious.
“mommy. who’s that…?” he points at toji’s sleeping body with a tone of slight disgust, as though he’s just seen a pile of dirt in the place of his father.
you smile sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you slowly pull away from toji’s grasp. you gently kick your legs over the bed to fully face megumi now. “your dad, honey. two sec…let’s go get you breakfast. then you can say hi to daddy when he wakes up, ‘kay?”
he doesn’t see to have any resignation as he follows you quietly, dark brows slightly furrowed and chewing his little lip as though he’s deep in thought. he follows you, wolf plushie tucked under his arm, his soft green pjs a bit too big for him, dragging along the floor. he pulls himself up to sit on a chair, watching as you quickly prepare his breakfast.
you slide a bowl of banana porridge across the table and sit across from him, a cup of coffee in your hand, watching with a smile as he eats, that thoughtful frown still plastered onto his young features.
”morning.”
you turn to see toji stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his messy flat hair slightly ruffled. clearly somebody slept well, at least.
he yawns and walks over to the table, kneeling next to megumi’s chair and wrapping an arm around his body towards him to pull him into a sleepy hug. the boy, however, grimaces a little, small hands pressed against tojis head as he tries to push him away with a look of utter distaste.
toji’s relentless though, smirking a little as he tries to press a kiss to the boy’s forehead before lifting him into his arms. megumi turns to face you seriously, small hands pressed firmly against toji’s right eye and cheek in a feeble attempt to get him off. “mommy. mommy, who is he?”
you pause, trying and failing to hold back a small laugh as toji’s face seems to drop, any lingering signs of sleepiness immediately leaving his face. he blinks harshly, looking as though he’s been stung, momentarily stunned, before eventually recovering from the blow and readopting his confident tone again.
“who else, kid? your dad.” he presses his forehead to megumi’s, his flat messy tufts of midnight black meeting your son’s own sea of dark spikes.
you watch megumi’s eyes narrow a little, soft lashes batting slightly as he stares intently at toji’s face, the cogs seeming to turn one by one in his mind as he tries to verify the words through that penetrating gaze.
no doubt, the kid’s perceptive for his age. scarily perceptive, you note.
he seems to somewhat accept the response however as he seems to relax a little in your husband’s arms, a single hand coming up to brush over the gentle stubble forming on his chin. he inspects it wordlessly, brows furrowed.
toji smiles briefly before leaning his chin forward to playfully tickle megumi with the scratchiness, his chin meeting the soft skin of the boy’s rosy cheek and causing him to gasp and lean backwards. he lets out a tiny unimpressed, almost exasperated gasp at the immaturity of the man stood before him, before eventually reacting to the relentless tickles, laughing slightly and playfully pushing his face away.
“take it off!” he squeals, his hand once again coming to meet the fuzz of dark hair on toji’s chin, exploring the unfamiliar texture against the soft skin of his own fingers. “…i don’t like you being a hedgehog anymore!”
“..a hedgehog..?” toji echoes the word with a slight tone of distaste. it was, truthfully, ironic: you had to stifle a laugh upon hearing the nickname come from the very boy with the spikiest, most hedgehog-like hair you’d probably ever seen a 4 year old have.
“yeah, go shave, hedgehog.” you mimic, grinning at toji as he sighs, rolling his eyes light-heartedly and placing megumi down to head to the bathroom.
he grumbles quietly as he leaves the room
“whatever. betrayed by my own son.”
author’s notes:
this is a reupload of a fic i posted back in december ahh i hope you guys like it😓i edited and fixed up some parts because i didn’t like all of it
dad!toji and baby megumi are so dear to me i love them and hope to write about them more in future!!
divider creds @/dividers-are-us and @/cursed-carmine!
megumi’s wide, midnight eyes blink between the two ties his father is holding- one is emerald, plain and simple, and one is maroon with gold accents. toji holds both options up to the base of his neck, seeing which one goes better with the suit he’s wearing.
toji hasn’t been on a date in years.
he’s nervous, to say the least, worried about wooing you and making sure he shows up in pristine condition- suit ironed smooth as butter, hair styled, his one and only expensive cologne sprayed on his collar, toji wants nothing more than to show up and wow you, sweeping you off your feet.
“daddy,” megumi says softly, “help.”
toji clicks his tongue and puts the ties onto the bureau, “well why would you undo the tie in the first place?”
“felt funny.”
toji sighs before chuckling, shaking his head and fixing his child’s tie, sitting under his tiny chin.
behind him, tiny feet toddle into the room, a excited giggle follows as a new presence forms behind him. a soft tug on his pants takes his attention briefly, and he gives her a look over his shoulder. “daddy!”
“yes, tsumiki?”
“look!”
toji smiles at her twirling form with a dress that matches megumi’s tie. “well, don’t you look pretty?”
“daddy, are we gonna get flowers?” tsumiki asks.
toji tenses briefly before chuckling, “we are now.” tsumiki giggles, and at her example, megumi smiles softly. toji chuckles, “you’re both gonna be on your best behavior, right? gonna be real grown up at the restaurant right?”
“yeah!”
never, once, has megumi or tsumiki been included in the dating scene, prior potential romances wanting minimal to do with a single dad and his tiny children. they’d heard about the young children and bolt as fast as they can away from him.
toji didn’t have time for games.
which is why he’s so shocked that this time, megumi and tsumiki weren’t just a welcome surprise, they was welcome to join.
and that means infinitely to toji.
he snugs megumi’s tie under his chin one more time, smoothing out the shirt with his big hands before rising with a sigh, “later you can take it off. but we gotta look snazzy to impress ‘em, right?”
“yes!”
toji smiles, “good boy.” he looks back down at the blue tie megumi wears, matching his wide blue eyes that blink up in excitement at toji. his legs swing back and forth before a tiny finger points to the maroon tie, “you want me to wear the red one?”
“yes please.”
“tsumiki, what do you think?”
“red wins!”
toji chuckles before wrapping the tie around his neck, focusing as the reality and weight of the event settles onto his shoulders; he’s going on a date, a date with his young kids, a first date, and he just hopes that he can prove to you that this wasn’t a waste of time on your end.
he hasn’t been this excited in years- he wants to prove that to you.
snugging the tie, he scoops megumi up and into his arms, extending a hand to tsumiki to take. she does, swaying the knot of hands back and forth. he takes a deep breath in through his nose before slowly releasing it. “you kids ready?”
Smau: in which reign attempts the 'it must have been your other gf' trend
Warnings: fluff, crack, some sexual language, not proofread and rushed cause I'm on the go whoops
Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Ino, Shiu, Hiromi
first kiss with boyfriend!choso except he doesn’t know what a kiss is ᝰ.ᐟ fluff, fem!reader
“do you think it’d be weird if i kissed him?”
maki had looked at you like you had two heads when she asked, “why would that be weird? he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“well, yeah… but, isn’t the guy usually supposed to do it first?”
“choso wasn’t even a fully conscious being a year ago.” she scoffed, “your boyfriend is essentially one of those expanding pill toys we used to soak in the sink as kids. there’s nothing ‘usual’ about you two. I say go for it.”
you nibble the inside of your lip as you think back to the conversation you’d had with your friend just a few hours earlier. she was right, there is absolutely nothing normal about a jujutsu sorcerer and a death painting being in a relationship, so perhaps it isn’t fair to apply the same expectations you would a normal guy to choso. and though he was different from any guy you’d been with before, you could say with utmost certainty that no one has ever treated you as well as your sweet boy does, even if his methods were a little unconventional at times and he still referred to you as his ‘mate’ instead of his girlfriend. but that was just something you’d gotten used to.
the two of you are sat under a tree on a breezy day with your back against the bark and choso’s head tucked in your lap contently. he has his eyes closed but you can tell he’s not sleeping, just resting, his pretty lashes kissing his cheeks. chest rising and falling slowly. if anything, his relaxed stature should mirror onto you but it only makes you more nervous.
gently, you move to hold his face in your hands, thumbs dusting over his cheeks which makes him exhale a breath through his nose a little heavier in response. though no longer a stranger to your touch, it still makes his heart skip all the same. choso and affection had never crossed paths until he’d met you.
and slowly, you lower your face to his, eyes drawing to a close when you carefully slot your lips over his own. you remain there for a beat before you pull away to see a pair of alerted, intense eyes staring directly into yours.
“what did you just do?”
he’s so matter of fact. you still aren’t quite sure if you’re used to how much weight his voice has when he uses it. how it feels like he’s speaking into you instead of to you.
“um, I-“ you swallow, hard. “it was a kiss. i kissed you.”
you hadn’t really thought this through, you realize as your mouth runs dry. feels like it’s been filled with sand.
“why? what is a ‘kiss’?” he’d paused to taste the word, like he’d never spoken it before. because he hadn’t.
“it’s what you do when you like someone. when words aren’t enough to show it. you put your lips on theirs, and… move them.”
you were going to kill maki.
he nods, but he still seems to be thinking on it. “what does it mean?”
“it’s kind of hard to explain. but it’s supposed to be a good thing, you know… that couples do.” he shifts slightly, arms coming up to cross under his head instead. his knuckles brushing against the skin of your thighs, the feeling of his hands making you fidget a bit. they were almost hot.
“how’d it make you feel?” you ask.
“do it again.”
“what?”
he repeats himself, “do it again. you caught me off guard the first time.”
so you do as you’re told. once. just a peck, barely a second. then again, but this time, you stay long enough to feel his lips tentatively start to move against yours. to feel them press deeper into yours when his chin tilts upwards.
a breath is shared between the two of you, lips ghosting against each other’s before you pull away completely.
your heart is beating fast and you know he can sense it.
“so? now how do you feel?” it comes out really soft because you’re nervous and you truly can’t read him right now.
he looks… confused. curious? you don’t know, but there’s a harsh line between his brows while he mulls on his answer.
“warm. like my blood is about to burst through my veins any second now… like—“ his lips close, then part again, but it takes a few more seconds for words to escape and for the first time ever you hear choso trip over his words. “like the feeling you get when you’re getting ready to fight someone. but… different. more intense.”
“cho, it’s okay if you didn’t like—“
he doesn’t let you finish.
“give me more,” and he tacks it on for good measure because yuji’s told him he needs to work on his manners. “please.”
cuteness aggression. (heian era!sukuna x apothecary!reader)
working in the cursed king’s estates was something you thought would’ve been a much more taxing task than this. you were a diligent little apothecary, always minding your business, humming yourself while you picked your herbs, cataloguing each and every one with such care, talking to the flowers as if no one was watching. but he always was.
you always worked so hard, tending to his gardens when you didn’t need to, talking to the little critters that always insisted upon wrecking havoc amongst your precious flowers. and something about the very sight of you sent sukuna spiralling.
he towered over you, his robes big enough to cloak you in your entirety, his biceps the size of your head, big enough to engulf you and keep you hidden away from everyone’s view like he so dearly wished to.
he tried his hardest to stay hidden, all in vein while you spun around, bowing down before him, your robes slowly slipping off your form while you stayed bowed down.
“my lord, i didn’t expect to see you here.”
“no need for the formalities, rise, my apothecary.” he huffed, watching you slowly stand up straight, looking up at him with your big, trusting eyes—like he was something akin to human, not a king of curses.
you held your herbs in your hands slowly fidgeting with it while sukuna scanned you head to two, as if he were committing you to memory.
his heart continually beat in an unsteady rhythm—an irrational part of his mind telling him to hide your away, to smush your face in his hands and tuck you away against his chest instead of letting you go about your work.
and before he could stop himself, his hands cupped your face, nails digging into to the fat of your cheeks while you looked up.
“uh…m—my lord?”
he seemed to be almost unaware that he grabbed you by the chin, turning your head around in his hands before the realisation hit him like a truck—moving his hand away from you before clearing his throat.
“keep up the good work, apothecary.” is all he said before awkwardly patting you on your head, fighting the urge to run his fingers through your hair before walking away, hiding the flush that tinged his cheeks while you cupped your own face, silently screaming about the fact that the sukuna ryomen squished your cheeks.
and poor utahime. they knew they’d have to deal with sukuna’s incoming crash out the very second he made his way to the kitchens.
hey. don’t whip me guys i’ve been good. @yoonsucks @yorikae @cursedkisss
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
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
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