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.
They were always too big, considering his behemoth size above the rest of his peers. Long, spindly fingers that over the years in the military, became thick with callouses and scars. Yellowed with cigarette butts, a knuckle here and there slightly out of place from all of the fractures and breaks.
The palms of his hands were completely webbed with delicate lines from both age and the extensive length of times he had worn his fingers in a fist. He had tried to make them look a little better, had gotten tattoos, would lotion when he could remember. The ink ran deep, little swirls and designs eating up the thick, aged skin on the back of his hands, fingers blotched on the first knuckle with little images or letters. It had started to bleed and fade that strange sort of navy that tattoos do after a prologued time under the skin.
But no amount of ink on the planet would erase the blood that they carried each day. Breaths silenced by those jagged palms, lives ended with just one pull of an index finger. His hands were dirty. Worse than the muck constantly tucked under his trimmed nails. They were forever stained crimson with decisions he would never be able to take back.
Right now, he was fighting hard to stop his fingers from trembling. He’d never felt his heart race this way. His palms were tense, outstretched to minimise the age lines that spanned them, and waiting for when the weight settled between them.
His breath stopped.
Bundled up in blankets and a tiny pink hat, those same hands that had carried grenades and guns and knives, was now so carefully balancing a tiny baby girl. No bigger than the length of his hands held open side by side, weighing nothing more than just a small few pounds and ounces.
Just her face was visible. Still a little smushed up from birth, peach fuzz coating the softest, pinkest skin. Her eyes shut, tiny lashes splaying across little rosy cheeks. She had his nose. Well the one before it has been broken four times. A little button nose, a little long, with a tiny bump down the bridge. But she had the poutiest little lips on the planet. Glossy with salvia, undoubtedly a carbon copy of her mother’s.
Simon was breathless and speechless.
This tiny thing, no bigger than this calloused, ugly hands… it had come from him. And the fact somebody loved him so much to give him one.
He could feel the hot sting of tears in the corner of his eyes.
His daughter stirred, her little face scrunching up even more before she yawned. Simon only watched, how her tiny pink tongue flexed in her mouth, how the fat of her cheeks shifted to accommodate that teeny tiny jaw to open as wide as it could go. Then, she settled back into the blankets, clearly comfortable in Simon’s hands. She squeaked quietly before settling in completely.
The first tear streamed down Simon’s cheek. Then the next. And the next.
His hands. Those calloused, ink stained, bloodied evil-doing hands. He had hated them for as long as he could remember.
But now, holding the smallest, most delicate, precious being in the world.
Synopsis: Your son looks just like Rin // fluff, suggestive at the end
“What is that.”
“Sae, it’s your son,” you sigh, lying in the Hospital bed, completely exhausted of a night of giving birth.
“Why does he look like that.”
“I don’t know, what does he look like?” you’re currently so tired that you haven’t opened your eyes in hours, just weakly replying to Sae’s dumb questions. You saw your son after the birth briefly, but didn’t really see much of him due to him being cuddled in towels and having his eyes closed.
So what the hell does he mean?
“He looks…he looks exactly like Rin.”
You open your eyes slowly, “Really? That’s a surprise.”
Your eyes begin to focus slowly and get used to the bright light of the Hospital Bed, now being able to see your son in Sae’s arms.
He’s tiny.
A little bundle of…anger?
He looks extremely unsatisfied with the entire situation he’s in.
You crack a little smile. “Do you think he looks like Rinnie because he’s angry?”
“I told you to not call him that. And no,” with a sigh, Sae pulls the blankets away from your son’s body, revealing green hair, “Look. It’s green.”
You blink a couple times and then shrug. “I mean…your Father and your Brother both have green hair. It’s no surprise.”
“It shouldn’t work like that. My child is supposed to look like me, isn’t he?”
“What? You’re seriously angry about that? You’re completely ridiculous. Rinnie is your Brother, be happy your son is like him.”
“Don’t you dare say that. Just because he looks like him, doesn’t have to mean he’ll be like him,” Sae shivers at the thought of Teenage Rin in flow state.
You grin, “I actually hope he is exactly like Rinnie. I love his grumpy attitude and he’s just so adorable in general. He’s such a sweetheart.”
“Whatever floats your boat, Itoshi.”
You gasp and giggle, “Itoshi Sae’s first try at humour?? Will this affect the Aldi opening hours??”
“Just shut up.”
You giggle even louder, which wakes your baby up. He immediately begins to scream and cry, his little hands grasping for you.
“We’ll have to try for another one in time. One that isn’t loud and looks like me.”
“No the fuck we’re not. You know how much blood is coming out of me right this second?”
“This happened to you every month a while ago. Don’t be dramatic.”
“That’s it, I’m divorcing you.” You stare at him in complete seriousness.
Sae smiles softly and gives you the baby, “Love you too.”
。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。
a/n: English isn’t my first language, criticism is welcomed but please be nice. Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. Do not steal or copy my work, nor feed it to ai.
n: If I had to have a baby with the worst Itoshi, I’d want it at least to look like the best // also, Sae is like mid 20s in this :o
saved you a seat pt.2
wherein the flowers arrive, the apologies are made and the consequences finally catch up.
tw : heavy angst, relationship conflict, emotional neglect, jealousy, breakup, arguments, begging, hurt/comfort, different endings.
part one main masterlist
a/n : PART 2 IS FINALLY HEREEEEE what do we think??!!
⤷ in which… you keep interrupting him with kisses while he's talking about his day. ⊹ ࣪ ˖
The apartment was unusually quiet.
Practice had run late, dinner had been eaten straight out of takeout containers on the coffee table, and now the rain tapped softly against the windows while the two of you occupied the couch.
Or rather… You occupied Atsumu.
One of his arms was lazily draped around your waist while your head rested against his chest. His shirt was warm from the shower he'd taken not long ago, and his freshly washed blond hair had already begun sticking up in every direction.
He looked unfairly cozy.
"...An' then Bokuto somehow convinced Hinata ta race him up the stairs," Atsumu said, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. "Coach walked in right as they started, an'—"
You leaned up. Peck. A tiny kiss landed on his cheek.
He blinked. "...Anyway," he continued, smiling despite himself. "Coach just looked at 'em like—"
Peck. The other cheek this time.
His sentence dissolved into a little laugh. "...Ya serious?"You simply smiled. "What?" "Nothin'."
He shook his head, trying very hard to look exasperated. "So, as I was sayin'..." He cleared his throat dramatically. "Bokuto nearly tripped over a medicine ball because—"
Peck. Right on the corner of his jaw. "..."
He looked down at you. "...Did ya just interrupt me?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "...Ya absolutely do." "I was listening." "Were ya?" "Mhm." "So what did Bokuto trip over?" You blinked. "...Volleyball?" Atsumu burst into laughter, "YA WEREN'T LISTENIN'!" "I was listening to your voice." He immediately stopped laughing. "...That's..." His ears turned pink. "...That's kinda smooth." "I know."
He pointed at you accusingly, "Yer dangerous."
He tried again. "So then Omi-kun—"
Peck. "Omi-kun said—" Peck. "Baby." "Hm?" "Will ya lemme finish?" You nodded very sincerely. "Of course." "...Promise?" "I promise."
He narrowed his eyes. "I don't trust that face." "My face?" "Yeah." "What's wrong with my face?" "It looks like it's plannin' somethin'." "It would never." "...Liar."
He took a deep breath. "ANYWAY." You giggled.
"Omi-kun said if Bokuto broke another piece of equipment, he was gonna make him clean the entire gym. Then Hinata started laughin', an' Bokuto got all dramatic, an'—"
You gently reached up. Brushed a strand of messy blond hair away from his forehead. He instinctively leaned into your touch.
"...What?" "Nothin'." He smiled softly. "...Keep doin' that."You smiled right back. Instead of answering… You kissed his forehead. Very gently. Atsumu completely forgot what he was talking about.
"...Uh..."He blinked once. Twice. "...Where was I?" "You were talking about Bokuto." "Right." "...I think."
He frowned thoughtfully. "Wait..." "...What was Bokuto doin'?" You started laughing. "Oh my gosh." "It's yer fault!" "My fault?" "Yeah!"
He poked your side. "Ya kissed all the thoughts outta my head!" "I don't think that's how brains work." "Well then explain why I forgot." "You have the memory of a goldfish." "I do NOT." "You forgot where your phone was yesterday." "'Cause it was in my pocket!" "Exactly."
Atsumu dramatically sighed. "I see how it is."
He crossed his arms. "I'm bein' sabotaged." "I would never sabotage you." "...Really?" "Mhm."
He leaned closer. "...Then why've ya kissed me..." He pretended to count on his fingers. "...Seven times?"
"Has it been seven?" "It has!" "...Maybe it should be eight."
Before he could react—Peck. His nose.
Atsumu froze. "...Ya kissed my nose." "I did." "...Ya never kissed my nose before." "I do now." "...I kinda liked it." "I know."
His entire face was pink now. Not just his ears. His cheeks matched the warm glow of the lamp beside the couch. "You keep lookin' at me like that." "Like what?" "...Like I'm cute." You stared at him. "...Tsumu." "What?" "You are cute."
He made the strangest sound. Half laugh. Half whine. "Don't say it so casually!" "But it's true." "...I'm supposed ta be cool." "You can be both." "...Can I be hot too?" "You are." "And cute?" "Mhm." "And funny?" "Sometimes, mostly annoying." "HEY."
He finally gave up on telling his story.
Instead, he looked down at you with the fondest expression you'd ever seen. "...Y'know..." "Hm?" "I really like ya." You smiled. "I know." "No, I mean..."
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly bashful despite the grin tugging at his lips. "I really, really like ya." His brown eyes were so bright they almost sparkled. "I get ta tell ya about my day." "I get ta come home ta ya." "I get ta cuddle ya." "...An' then ya randomly decide my face needs kissin'." "It does." "It does?" "Mhm." "...Why?"
You reached up and cupped his warm face between your hands.
His messy blond hair flopped over his forehead, hopelessly untidy from your fingers running through it earlier. His cheeks were rosy. His smile was so wide it made your own impossible to hide. "...Because you're adorable."
Atsumu's brain completely stopped functioning. "...Ya can't just say stuff like that." "I just did." "I know!" He covered his face with one hand. "I can feel myself blushin'!" "You are." "Stop lookin'!" "I can't." "WHY?" "'Cause you're adorable."
He groaned dramatically, letting his head fall onto your shoulder. "I'm never recoverin' from this..." "You'll live." “Barely."
You laughed quietly. Then, almost absentmindedly… You kissed his cheek again. Another peck. Then his forehead. Then the tip of his chin. "...Baby." "Hm?" "...Are ya done?" You tilted your head innocently. "...No." "...I had a feelin'."
Before you could steal another kiss—Atsumu suddenly lunged. "oof—!" He wrapped both arms around you, gently pulling you backwards until you both collapsed into a pile of blankets, your laughter filling the apartment.
"Tsumu!" "Nope!" He buried his face against your shoulder, holding you impossibly close. "Ya've officially lost kiss privileges." "I have?" "Mhm." "'Cause ya won't stop interruptin' me!" "But you weren't talking anymore." "...That's beside the point."
You giggled, squirming just enough to peek at his face. His blond hair was an absolute mess now, sticking out in every direction. His cheeks were still bright pink.
And despite all his complaining… There it was.
That huge, sunshine-bright smile. The one that crinkled his eyes until they almost disappeared. The one you loved so much. "...You're smiling." "'M not." "You are." "'M frownin'." "That's the happiest frown I've ever seen." He huffed dramatically. "...Fine." "...Maybe I am."
He looked at you for a long moment. Then smiled even wider. "...Can't help it." "Why?"
He squeezed you tighter, as if he was afraid you'd somehow drift away. "'Cause I'm holdin' my favorite person." Your heart melted. "...You're so cheesy." "I know." "...Hopelessly cheesy." "I know." "...Ridiculously in love." His grin turned soft. "Mhm."
He nudged his forehead against yours. "An' I'd choose ya..." He pressed one tiny kiss to your forehead this time. "...Every single day."
You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. "...You finally got to kiss me back." He gasped dramatically. "...WAIT." "...I WON." "You won?""I got the last kiss!" You laughed so hard you nearly fell off the couch.
Atsumu laughed with you, bright and loud and wonderfully unrestrained, the sound filling every corner of the apartment.
He'd completely forgotten the story he'd been trying to tell. Neither of you cared. Not when the rain was falling outside. Not when you were tangled together beneath a blanket.
And especially not when Atsumu Miya looked at you with that impossibly jolly smile—as though, after everything volleyball had given him, coming home to you was still the very best part of his day.
─ ⟡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ a note from aika! tysm for reading!!! yes gawd damn I HAD to repost this because TUMBLR FRIGGIN LABELED THIS AS MATURE CONTENT LIKE WHAT NO??? and the problem WAS MY FRIGGIN HEADER like OMG WHY??? anyways thanks for reading!!! this idea randomly popped to my head when I was thinkin bout how adorable atsumu's smile was LIKE UGHH so cute and I honestly rushed this SO IM SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES!!! I miiiiiight write an osamu version... Maybe maybe... WELL YEA TYSM!!! ⊹ ࣪ ˖
No thoughts just box jellyfish!reader working with the 141, right?
An oddity even amongst hybrids, your particular type of presentation had thousands of singers developing in your skin. Each one loaded with the poison to stop a mans heart. Otherwise, you look completely normal, the perfect weapon to do some real damage on missions.
Of course, this also means you get certain...privileges, on base.
No one dares to bother you, not with the government-mandated patch on your uniform at all times. A large warning symbol indicating harm at contact. Sure, you make sure every inch of your skin is covered, but no one takes a chance.
You spend nearly your entire military career unbothered by people so long as you get the job done.
Until you meet ghost.
Giant of a man, he towers over people in a distinctly hybrid way, though you can't tell what he is. He's a goddamn pain in your side. Doesn't hesitate to grab you, always pushing you to train or work on something. Hissing about improvement.
It's driving you mad.
Your final straw is him standing in the doorway of the gym, refusing to let you leave. He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed down at you "everyone else practiced sparring today, even price."
"Yeah, well find me someone will and I'll be glad to," you hiss, moving to shove him out of the way. "Anyone stupid enough to grapple me on the field will die anyways–"
The air is knocked out of your lungs so fast it makes your mind spin, spine knocking brutally into the floor.
"Not the ones immune to you," Ghost's face is mere inches away. Belatedly, terrifyingly, you realize he took his gloves off and his bare skin is wrapped around your throat without a twitch of pain.
"Wh– what–" you struggle, unable to fight out of the pin ghost put you in.
Ghosts other hand pulls his mask up just enough to reveal his mouth, opened to show off rows and rows of spiny teeth, all the way down his throat. "Leatherback sea turtle. Your venom does nothing to me." He leans closer "I could choke the life out of you and never feel a pinch."
Ghost leaves you lying on the floor, heart racing, gasping for air.
"We start sparring tomorrow. I won't have a liability on my team."
cw: suggestive just a tad bit, this honestly counts as crack; also there was an error and the end of rins message so that’s why it’s cropped
a/n: well… HONESTLY this took so long cus i just got my nails done and school is in five days like omg..so yeah..shidous own pissed me off so much but it kinda fits his character sooo also please notice the ones who got back together were the ones who were on “break”😕
@kohanalive it’s here sis
don’t forget, likes, comments, reblogs, and criticism is heavily appreciated!
cw: swearing, and probably ooc; guys is the title corny idk this seems corny and kinda repetitive 😭
a/n: i fucking hate this shit omg technically no i actually like this but this was def rushed also now that im reading this this is making me laugh ngl; school starts in 10 days guys nothings funny rn💔 but yeah hope u guys like this because this is my last request i cleared out 😭 also im ITCHING FOR SOMEONE TO REALIZE THE YUKIMIYA ONE IS A REFERENCE TO THE FLORIDA PROJECT😫😫😫
don’t forget, likes, comments, reblogs and criticism are appreciated!
nagi seishiro is a lazy bastard, but you knew that already.
the sheets are in the dryer, and the pillows were on the sofa for “safekeeping”—which, in his humble opinion, is just a fancy way to say you didn’t want him dirtying them up without their covers on.
can he blame you?
that’s why it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when he drags you to bed midday as you’re cleaning up. mattress bare in all its glory, nagi still manages to find comfort in them as he lies down against the softness of the bedding.
“ah—! sei!” you gasped at the sudden pull of force, “hey! what was that for?”
nagi only hums dismissively as a response before lifting his head and shifting his body around, then pressing his soft, plush cheek against your chest.
“sei…” you attempt to scold, but your tone comes out halfheartedly against your better judgment. he just looked too cute, too comfortable in your company… or in your tits, rather.
you bring a hand against his head before gently massaging him, making nagi shuffle around with closed eyes before he presses a kiss directly on top of your heart.
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.
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.
frat!sukuna crashing out over gojo trying to steal his baby mama!
frat!sukuna wouldn't say he baby trapped you.
because apparently, the whole trap part didn't fucking work in the first place.
if it did, you wouldn't be letting rival frat president!gojo buy you groceries and grin at you like he couldn't wait to get in your panties. freak just wanted to try your fucking breast milk.
the white-haired idiot had no interest in changing diapers or pushing around strollers or burping a four-month old only to end up with a trail of spit down his shirt.
but noooooo, it seemed like you still thought he would make a better boyfriend than the actual father of your child.
sure, okay, it wasn't like the two of you had ever officially dated. but fucking in the bathroom at frat parties was and going out for breakfast together the morning after was kinda close? besides, you were supposed to come to him all doe-eyed and distraught with a pregnancy test in hand to let him lock you down for good and become future father of the year. not just retreat and run away - right into the arms of a waiting buffoon with nothing better to do than beg for your attention.
he'd been trying to step up. but someone wouldn't stop getting in the goddamn way.
sukuna knew you used to tutor him. he just hadn't known how borderline obsessed gojo was with you.
intercepting his calls, pretending to be you over text, trying to tell him the wrong times for appointments and pick ups, everything possible in his power to put himself firmly between the two of you. you didn't even believe him when he tried to tell you either.
rolling your eyes and swearing that satoru would never.
you were naive. a little awkward. the shy sort that got all agitated at the slightest bit of attention. sukuna liked the way you flushed just from a few words, how you refused to meet his stare unless you were laid bare beneath him, biting your lip or burying your face into his collarbone when he groaned your name.
so how the hell had a guy like satoru gojo sunk his claws into you right under his nose?
"he just wants to fuck you," sukuna gritted his teeth, trying not to actually growl when you slid into the booth across from him - all while mr. moron who snuck in walked over to the barista with your baby strapped to his chest.
"i think you're projecting," you muttered under your breath, arching up an eyebrow and swirling a straw around the drink sukuna already ordered you. your favorite.
"i never said i didn't," he sharply retorted, holding his chin up high like it wasn't eating him fucking alive seeing you act like a married couple with gojo when that was supposed to be him.
"come on, it's not like you're actually interested anymore," you murmured, shaking your head as you sighed at him.
"what the fuck are you talking about?" he frowned, brows furrowed tight.
"you're surrounded by sorority girls most weekends," you shrugged, as if he wasn't trying to spend every night you'd let him at your place taking night shifts with his son. "and i just had a baby."
"did he fucking say something to you?" he snapped, squinting accusingly at gojo before swiveling his head back to you.
you were all flustered, your cute face scrunching as you scoffed and motioned for him to lower his voice, "it's common sense. we're not together. of course you're sleeping with other girls. it's fine, i-"
"no, no, i'm-" he protested, but you weren't finished, awkwardly mumbling that it wasn't like the two of you were ever something serious anyway.
"satoru asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday," you added, shoulders sheepishly bobbing up. "so, you know, if you decide to date around too, it's not gonna be weird or anything."
"did you say yes?" he gawked, grinding his molars as he debated on banging his own head against the wall of the cafe.
"well, not yet," you mumbled, tilting your head to the side. "but i'm-"
"you two talkin' about me?" your not-boyfriend chuckled, grinning as he returned with a bag filled with muffins and croissants and whatever else filled with sugar he could find on the menu.
you opened your mouth to speak, but then you abruptly glanced down at your chest, mouth pressing together as you sighed and slipped out of the booth, holding your arm's out to take your baby back. his baby back. "i think i'm about to start leaking. i'm gonna go feed her out in the car."
sukuna almost said that no one would give a shit if you fed him in here. but he knew you better. knew you'd never be comfortable with that - so he bit his tongue, not exactly pleased at the prospect of spending the next twenty minutes sitting here with gojo waiting for you to come back.
"her tits look fuckin' great, don't they?" satoru chirped the second you slipped out the door, loudly opening the bag and popping the first thing he pulled out into his mouth.
"shut the fuck up," sukuna snapped at him, scowling as he resisted the urge to strangle him.
the asshole was just trying to ragebait him.
and it was unfortunately working a little too well.
"can i ask you something?" gojo grinned, crumbs falling to the table as he spoke with a full mouth.
When you first met Simon, he was living in a rubish place with minimal-need furniture. A worn-out couch that he used to sleep in. A camping-like table used to eat tasteless but fueling food, work. He even doesn’t have a tv! He just stare at the white walls of his studio.
You knew Simon got a LOT of money, so why would he lives like this? The guy doesn’t even has a pillow, just old shirt he rolls under his head.
That’s why the tf141 was surprised when they met you -a spoiled little thing. How the lieutnant who lives like a victorian peasant could be with a high-maintenance girlfriend?
You have basically anything.
Outfit from the lastest trend, it even looks like you are the one making them. Fresh blowout every two weeks at the salon -that shit’s expensive. Perfectly manicured nails. An entire closet of shoes and bags.
Some could thinks that Ghost is a skinflint, but he just thinks he doesn’t deserve it. While you-his perfect sweet and pretty girlfriend- deserves the whole world and more. He doesn’t mind throwing all his money on you.
You have been together for a few years now. You kind of started to live in his mid apartment. With that, you brought your own furnitures as there was none in his place.
With your eight pillows, fluffy plaids, infinite wardrobe, enough skincare products to open an entire cosmetic shop.
After months living with Ghost -and sharing your lifestyle with him- you finally made Simon a spoiled thing.
He pouts when he doesn’t have kisses, wears your headband when shaving, grumpy when he doesn’t have his overly too sweet -type 2 diabetes- coffe in the morning. Sleeps with three pillows and your stuffie. Watch tv shows.
You made him gain self-estime. Thanks to your relationship he knows that he’s worthy of sparkle of sweetness and comfort in his life.
ghost has always been protective of you, but now that you're carrying his child, it's getting out of control.
the grocery store was too crowded, too loud for ghost's liking, with kids running around unsupervised. simon's jaw tightened as a teenager rushed past you, almost making you lose your balance. his arm shot out instinctively, pulling you flush against his side.
"watch it!" he growled, his voice dangerously low, and the kid scurried off without glancing back.
you sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. "si', i'm fine. they're just kids, you can't get mad at them."
"you're six months pregnant," he said, as a matter of fact. his hand found the small of your back, warm and steady, guiding you down the aisle at an extremely slow pace. "and this place is a madhouse. unbelievable."
you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.
"simon." you called him sweetly. "it's tuesday. 10 am. there are four other people in this store."
"too many," he mumbled, leading you toward the fruits section with a hand firm on your lower back. he was scanning aisles, cataloging exits, evaluating threats.
an elderly woman reached for a box of apples near you and simon physically shifted to place himself between her and your belly.
the woman was puzzled.
his eyes softened as they dropped to your stomach.
"you're doing it again," you mumbled, fighting a smile.
"doing what, sweetheart?" he planted a kiss on top of your head.
"being overprotective." you exclaimed, intertwining your fingers with his.
simon grunted, moving you toward the checkout. "that's my job."
at the register, a woman cooed at your bump, reaching out without asking. simon caught her wrist mid-air, his eyes glinting with warning.
"for fuck sake. these people are mad." he cursed at the poor woman.
the woman took a step back, embarrassed, and you shot simon a reassuring look.
outside, he insisted on carrying every single bag, all six of them, plus the heavy watermelon you'd asked him to buy. you attempted to carry the small bag of cupcakes but simon gave you a firm no.
your mouth salivated at the sight of the chocolate flavored cupcake that simon handed to you.
his car was immaculate, not a crumb of cookie on his leather seats, no coffee stains. he'd once made soap walk ten miles for dirtying the passenger seat with orange juice.
but you? oh you could do whatever you pleased.
"unbelievable." he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
you took another bite, moaning dramatically. you closed your eyes, savoring it, completely oblivious to the way simon was watching you.
"you've got..." he gestured vaguely at his own face.
"hm?" you blinked, frosting on your nose and your left cheek.
he simply reached over, his thumb catching the smear on your chin. his eyes darkened, thumb hovering near your lips, then slowly, brought it to his own mouth, tasting the buttercream.
"si," you warned, recognizing that look.
"i'm not doing anything, love" he said, voice dropping low. "just cleaning you up."
little did you know, the ever cold menacing lieutenant simon riley got a boner just by looking at his sweet wife lick some frosting off a cupcake.
