the king of curses rarely ever gave in, with his head held high and his chest taut with assertion there was simply no room for pliability.
for a gentle, softness.
not until the last ray of sunshine had long crept away from the shrine and creatures friend and foe alike had returned home to the sole respite of slumber.
it was only then, in the quiet of the night when the monster vanished.
leaving in his wake a gentle giant, one youâd come to love more if not equally than his usual harsh demeanor.
not with you, never harsh with you, but you saw it in others. the terror he evoked for them in comparison to his ability to mold to your wishes.
sukuna was not one to be soft, no, not until you were both in bed and you dared to leave his embrace.
awoken at midnight with your throat mysteriously parched, you hesitated before shifting in the bruteâs grasp.
sukunaâs hands were grabbed onto your every part, two arms around your waist and one behind your head the other lay lazily on your thigh.
were any servant to walk in, (impossible, lest they wished to keep their heads) the possessiveness in his grasp on you would be unmistakable to read.
you placed both hands over his, barely covering any surface area due to the his sheer size, and tried to push.
the foundation was solid, you were locked in lovable shackles.
you peeped a look back over your shoulder, his crimson hair tickled your neck and his sets of eyes crinkled under your motion, then relaxed.
maybe even in his sleep, sukuna knew you would not be able to get away.
he made sure of that.
âsukuna..â you whispered slowly enunciating his name.
no response, but the grip on your waist loosened.
huh.
you moved finally to sit up. you reached out to the cup of water placed conveniently near your bed and took hasty sips. the cold water was an antidote for your thirst and surprisingly refreshing for the mind.
with a newfound wakefulness you braced to stand up only for an inked hand to grip your thigh, although not intended to be very strong, and halt your motion.
you looked back and the sight devastated you.
there he was, sukuna, your lover, your wedded lord, with his eyes open blearily heavily intoxicated from sleep and a look almost pleading for you to stop.
he whispered your name, his voice coming out rough around the edges and his grip tightened on your thigh, engulfing it entirely.
âwhat is itâ you whispered back wrinkling your nose with a soft smile painted on your lips.
sukuna silently observed you, taking in everything: your slippers half-hazardly covering your feet, your night gown sliding off your shoulder, your hair a little messy and those eyes, your pretty twinkling eyes.
sukunaâs heart pinched.
heavenâs there had to be a limit to the ever encompassing love he had for his wife, it was simply unfair.
you cupped a hand on the side of your lips before saying âiâll be back..â
sukuna watched in dismay as you again attempted to get away from him.
before you could even get a step out you were being pulled back by a force much, much stronger than you.
you tut disapprovingly, brushing him off with a light tap.
âitâll take a minuteâ
sukuna hugged your back, shaking his head no and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. as much as his 7 foot frame could.
energized by his playful demeanor you harnessed your own, twisting in his grasp you face towards him and cup his face.
âsukunaâ you say and he grumbles your name back at you.
âyou wonât even know iâm goneâ
and without pause,
âi willâ
you hold back your giggle opting for a neutral expression.
âmy lord, youâre being rather dependent on your poor wifeâ
âif that is what the situation demands, then so be itâ sukuna rolls over, grunting from the movement and pulls you on top of him.
you pushed up at his chest, now with an apparent upper hand ready to appeal for your freedom.
sukunaâs hands rested on your lower back his thumb rubbing into the dip at your hip, eyes barely cracked open.
you brought your fingers up and rubbed his jaw absentmindedly, âi canât sleep like thisâ
âwhy?â
âyou havenât shaved, your face is much too pricklyâ you teased.
and then ofcourse sukuna proceeded to rub his face against your cheek making you burst into a fit of giggles.
âstop!â you squealed.
you breathed hard, grinning down at your husband, âlet me goâ
ânot in a million yearsâ
you huffed, a stray piece of your hair flying up, the motions the brute had engaged you in making you dreary.
âalrightâ you fake yawned, âi surrenderâ
sukunaâs taut shoulders finally melted, the bed creaking under his weight as he let himself loose.
thatâs when you cracked your eye open and in a blur of movements you were up and out of his hands. especially the one that almost grabbed onto your ankle.
almost.
you looked at him across the room, waving a finger at his loss.
and lost he was, sukuna with his defined chest highlighted by the moonlight and hair sprung in an unruly sort of direction.
like sweet temptation.
his lower hand motioned you to come closer.
you knew better.
but you stepped into his trap anyway.
firefly; computah! open tumblr right before a career defining exam, lets post a fic.
you could never get tired of admiring your husband heian era!sukuna âĄ
most people couldnât look at him for long.
the moment they caught sight of him, their eyes dart away. some out of fear, or some out of disgust. they believe a creature like him isnât meant to be looked at.
you think they are all blind.
the evening is quiet, lantern light casting a warm glow across the room. it has become part of your nightly routine before bed, these quiet moments spent with your husband after the day has settled.
sukuna sits against the bed frame, one pair of arms folded while the other rests loosely across his lap.
his crimson eyes follow you as you crawl toward him. you sit down beside him and gently take one of his hands, then another.
his brows rise as he looks at you expectantly.
you compare them, turning them over in your palms. thick fingers, calloused skin, veins running beneath flesh capable of tearing apart crowds.
yet you trace them carefully, as if they are something precious.
âfour arms..â you murmur.
âyou say that as if youâve only just noticed,â he says, clicking his tongue after.
you move closer, inspecting the markings that wind around his skin. your fingertips follow the dark lines traveling over his wrist and shoulders.
âtheyâre beautiful.â
he looks at you, and you swear thereâs a faint blush adoring his cheeks, even though heâs heard you say so many times before.
beautiful? no one has ever used that word for him before you.
you continue before he can respond.
your hand slides to his chest, tracing the markings there as well, and you can feel his gaze burning into you.
then your attention lowersâ to the second mouth resting on his stomach. the feature that causes most people to recoil.
you start to lean forward, but sukunaâs eyes narrow. âwhat are you doing?â
âhm?â
his stomach mouth opens slightly, revealing sharp teeth, just to close again.
you examine it with genuine curiosityâ it is quite the most strange part of him, and therefore something you want to understand even more.
without hesitation, you press a small kiss on top of it.
ââŠwhy are you looking at me like that?â you ask after coming back up.
for perhaps the first time in centuries, the king of curses looks genuinely caught off guard.
âwhat was that for?â
you tilt your head, and one of your hands come up to trace his lower lip.
âi do kiss these as well, no?â
a low, strange sound escapes him, a little similar to a low laugh.
you shift your attention upward again, this time toward the smaller eyes beneath his main pair.
youâve always found them quite interesting.
carefully, you brush your thumb beneath one. âso you can see from them as well?â
âobviously.â
you continue to examine him shamelessly.
the shape of his face, then the markings crossing his cheeks. the extra eyes.. the sharp angles of his features.
every detail. every part others fearâ you love looking at them, love memorizing them.
when you finally look up, sukuna is already looking at you, a little amusement written over his expression.
âwhatâs so amusing?â you ask.
two of his hands rise, and two large palms settle against your cheeks. the contrast between his size and yours is almost comical.
âjust why are you so different?â his thumb brushes across your cheek.
for a moment, neither of you speaks, then you lean forward and kiss one of the markings on his face.
âwouldnât be here if i was like everyone else, hm?â you reason.
âą ê° Û¶à§ ê± ::. waking husband!sukuna up to tend to your pregnancy cravings :: cw mentions of pregnancy.
sukuna woke up to being shaken harshly by his heavily pregnant wife, her strength surprising him.
âbabe.â you said softly as you continue shaking your 250-pound husband with all your might.
âmnh?â sukuna murmured, still asleep.
âim hungry..â you whine, still shaking his moveless body.
âtheres food in the kitchen baby.â
âi dont want any of thatâŠâ you whispered. âwake up. you have to go to the gas station.. seven eleven. i want a hot dog from there.â you murmur, punching at his chest to wake him up.
âokay! okay! im up, im up baby. where âya want me to go?â he asked, getting up to put a pair of sweatpants on.
âseven eleven.. i need a hot dog. and mayo. and pickles.â you say to him, sitting up to watch as he starts putting his shoes on.
âis that it?â he asked staring at you in disbelief.
âa minion popsicle too..â you said, pulling the covers over your chest and laying a pillow under your swollen belly.
âokay baby ill be back just donât fall asleep pleaseâ he said, kissing your cheek as he left.
he stood shirtless in front of the teenage cashier, holding a hot dog, a jar of pickles, a packet of mayonnaise, and a minion popsicle.
âdont askâ he murmured, shaking his head as he payed for everything.
sukuna arrived home at exactly 3:19 am, drowsy but alert.
âbaby, im home.â he said walking throughout the house to find you.
living room? no.
bathroom? no.
bedroom? yes.
he found you laying in the bedroom completely knocked out as if youâd never woken up and sent him outside at 3 in the morning.
he sighed heavily, put everything in the fridge, sat on the bed and ate the popsicle by himself while he scrolled on instagram.
Ryomen âbeefinâ with my chick while Iâm in jailâ Sukuna.
A/N: it's finally here oh rejoice i am free flies away
Criminal!Sukuna whoâs scary as fuck. Heâs so jacked it borders on obscene â muscles stacked on muscles and veins crawling beneath tattooed skin, shoulders stretching at the seams of his uniform. Heâs got this sorta unperturbed vibe. Real musky and muscular, stalking around like heâll beat up the first guy that looks at him wrong.
Criminal!Sukuna who got locked up for some undisclosed highly illegal bullshit nobody ever gets a straight answer about. Speculations are thrown around the prison yard â drug dealing. Drug trafficking. Body-part-trafficking. Cannibalism (yay!).
He doesnât bother to correct anything. Just sits in the corner with an arm slung over one knee, brooding, grumbling âKing of Curses, they used to call me..â beneath his breath. The nutjob.
Criminal!Sukuna who has the whole wing convinced thereâs no way in hell heâs got a girl on the outside. Surely not. Heâs so immature and ill-natured â even more so than his cellmate, Gojo. Which is saying something.
To the little lady who might end up having to deal with this brutish man, well.. Gojo extends his sincerest condolences. Heâs fairly certain any sane person would run for the hills.
You are not sane. He supposes this is why you and Sukuna get along.
Criminal!Sukuna who lights up in the most feral way whenever your name comes up. Wonât admit it, of course. But itâs obvious how he stops pacing when the mail comes. He snatches your envelopes out of the stack like a territorial dog, scowling at anyone who looks over.
Criminal!Sukuna who sits in his cell reading pages upon pages of you calling him a brain-dead brute with no sense of decorum. Threats piling up saying youâll break things off completely if he doesnât clean up his act when he gets out.
He smiles anyway. Because the letters smell like your perfume. Lips splitting wide in that creepy, clinically unwell way that has Gojo surmising Sukuna must have stockholm-syndromed his way into his relationship somehow.
Criminal!Sukuna who writes back instantaneously. Pencil scritching against paper like heâs got a vendetta â and perhaps he does, because he writes venomous, downright heinous shit. All watch your tone and you wonât find a better fuck, signed with a little sketch of his dick. For good measure, of course.
đđș đđž
Criminal!Sukuna who spends half his sentence arguing with you through busted-up phone receivers and glass partitions. Sometimes youâll be face to face at the visitation area, nary a word spoken. Once, you threaten to âstart seeing someone normalâ, and he slams the counter so hard the whole thing jostles.
Thereâs something special in the way you speak to him. Like heâs an exceptionally stupid man, and not a dangerous bastard with an egregiously extensive crime record.
âDo you want to get out of prison,â you hiss, enunciating each syllable with a finger jabbed hard at the glass, âor do you want to buttfuck your cellmate?â
Sukunaâs sprawled in his chair, massive arms folded with a sleazy grin, eyes glimmering with mirth. He leans closer.
âDepends. You gonna dump me if I do?â
âMaybe.â
The phone receiver slams against the cradle on his side so hard the inmate six seats down flinches. Sukuna stands to full height, chair scraping back loud across the floor. Hunched over the counter.
âYou try it,â he sneers. âSee what happens.â
A normal person would back down right about now. Think: hey, this probably isnât a healthy or sustainable relationship! I should end things right here!
You do not. Instead, you stand and collect your things, a vein pulsing at your forehead as you muster a sweet smile. âMaybe I will.â
He stares ahead three long seconds after you leave, then drops back into his chair, muttering curses beneath his breath as a reprimanding guard draws near.
Criminal!Sukuna who finally gets that long-awaited conjugal visit slot after years of good behavior (read: not slamming anyoneâs head into a wall for about a week and a half). And lucky him, youâve requested special accommodations! â a little trailer just off prison grounds.Â
He wouldâve been fine fucking you for all to hear, too, but he digresses.
Heâs half-hard just from the walk out the confine, veins prominent as his cuff-clad hands twist together. Too busy thinking to bother snarking at the guards who trail behind him.
He wonders what heâll do when he sees you first. Maybe heâll smirk, make a snide comment. Or maybe instinctâll take over, and heâll bury his face in your hair and his dick in your pussy. Whoâs to say?
Heâs excited. Very. In many ways.
Criminal!Sukuna whoâs one foot into the trailer when he freezes up. The guards have to push him through, slamming the door behind him as his system reboots.
Something tambourines across his ribcage as his eyes meet yours, pounding, poundingâ fuck. There you are.
God, heâs missed you.
âYouâre staring.â
â..youâre breathing.â
âYes, that tends to happen.â
His fingers twitch, a soft exhale escaping.
He canât even find it in himself to be pissed. Youâre so pretty. Especially when youâre mad. The angrier you get and the sharper you snap back, the brighter that little gleam in your eyes burns.
Sukuna likes it. He likes it a lot.
He likes you a lot.
The sole reason he even bothered to behave long enough to earn this visit was so he could see that exact frown on your lips once more.
Criminal!Sukuna whoâs snapped out of his reverie with the telltale warning of your fingers threading through his hair.
Then those exact lips slam against his with a hiss, your teeth clashing, biting and pulling at his bottom lip as if punishing him for all the time youâve lost.
His hands â still restrained â press into your waist.
He canât be bothered to care.
Heâs on a sugar high for the first time in months, swallowing down your sativa taste until heâs lightheaded and preening, the outline of kuna juniorâą peeking out his orange garb to wave hello.
Your grip on his hair tightens, tugging when his metal cuffs digs into you. In the way. You shoot him a glare, and he snarls beneath his breath.
âHold still, woman.â
âI am holding still, you doltââ
Thereâs a sharp crack!
All you see is the flex of his forearms before the cuffs give way, steel snapping like cheap jewelry and skewing across the trailer floor.
Criminal!Sukuna who hauls you up by your thighs, slamming your back against the flimsy trailer wall so hard a framed motivational poster clatters to the floor. His mouthâs on your throat, kissing tattoos into your skin while he grinds his aching length against the warmth of your clothed cunt.
Criminal!Sukuna who swipes your panties to the side instead of bothering to take them off. Thereâs a wet spot where heâs been grinding that has his smile spreading mean, two fingers rubbing at your clit before dipping in and crooking up.
âNo oneâs been spreading you right, huh? Miss me that bad?â
âMissed the dick. Didnât miss the mouth.â
He snorts at that. Mutters âbratâ beneath his breath as he drags his fingers out, slow and glistening, smearing slick along your folds before pushing them back in deep. âLucky the mouth missed you.â
Criminal!Sukuna who drops to his knees. More collapse than kneel, weight falling hard as he plants himself to the floor, thighs spread wide, hands gripping at your ass to pull you closer. Then he smiles up, tongue running along his molars in anticipation.
Criminal!Sukuna who eats you out like heâs starved. Who dives in with no preamble, mouth sealing over your cunt, tongue flat and broad and greedy as he drags it from your entrance up in one long, lewd-sounding swipe. He takes a moment to grin against your clit, tongue swirling messy circles as his nose presses to the warmth of your skin. Then heâs enveloping the puffy nub between his lips and sucking hard enough to make your hips jerk, humming low when his fingers swipe through your folds and meet a gush of arousal. You buck into the feeling with a whine his name, nails scraping through his scalp, and he practically groans, a hand dropping down to unzip and jerk himself off.
Criminal!Sukuna who gets slower when heâs about to insert himself. Who brushes his tip through your folds, kissing gently at your clit before going back down to gather slick. Then he notches himself at your entrance and thrusts in, agonizingly unrushed, grunting as he sinks into your warmth.
Itâs been a while, but his dick still recognizes the feeling like a soldier coming home from war. The fluttering, the way you suck him in like you never forgot him at all â like you waited for him just like he waited for you and worried for him wholly more.
The stretch aches. Your nails rake bloody reality down his back. A groan escapes unbidden â guttural and painstricken and all the more relieved that heâs here, and youâre here, and youâre his.
Criminal!Sukuna who fucks you mean. At first. Sharp and punishing, hips snapping like heâs trying to escape by rocking the trailer to nirvana. Each thrust has a gasp slipping out of your pretty lips, of which he drinks down with fervor, tongue swirling and coaxing yours to muffle the sounds so the guards outside donât get a free audio show. His balls slap wet against your skin, swollen from months of nothing but his own fist and your perfume-stained letters.
Criminal!Sukuna who slows down when your legs lock tighter around him and your teeth find the side of his neck. Heâs still buried to the hilt. His hips rolling in filthy circles, grinding his length against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your vision go blurry.
His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick hair sticking to skin as his voice lowers.
â..say you love me.â
Criminal!Sukuna who lets out a tch when you donât answer fast enough. Who pulls almost all the way out, letting you feel the drag of every veiny inch, then slams back in so deep your mouth opens in a silent cry.
âSay it. Tell me youâre mine, tell me youâ fuuuuuck. Been thinking âbout you. Dreaming âbout you, every night. Jerked off so much I thought my dick would fall off.. câmon, baby. Say it. Câmon.â
Criminal!Sukuna who starts begging when your walls pulse around him. Not pretty begging, either â pissed-off. Hoarse.
âDonât do this to me, pleaseâ fuckâ just say it. Say you love your piece-of-shit boyfriend. Say youâll wait. Iâll be good, I swearâ only you, just for you, Iâll get outâ so say it. Say it. I need you.â
His thrusts turn erratic. Sloppy. Heâs close, and heâs trying not to be, trying to drag it out as long as possible before the moment fades into steel bars and white walls of nothing.
Criminal!Sukuna who shivers when you finally card your fingers through his hair, yanking his head back so you can look him in the eye.
Youâre pretty. Always pretty, but especially pretty like this, lips swollen and tears pooling at your eyes out of overstimulation.
âI love you, you stupid, stupid man.â
Criminal!Sukuna whose whole body locks up. Whose cock pulses violently inside you â once, twice â and then heâs cumming with a strangled groan, doubling over to hold you tight as he fills you up. He keeps grinding, encouraged by the way your walls milk his length, cum leaking out in a frothy little ring that has his chest preening.
Criminal!Sukuna who doesnât pull out after. Just stays seated inside, trembling, face buried in the crook of your neck and arms wrapped around you like you might disappear. Who mumbles against your skin, barely audible â
â..missed this pussy.â
Heâs still half-hard, twitching every time your walls clench around his oversensitive length. Already thinking about round two.
But despite his perverted words, and his overeager dick, you know exactly what heâs trying to say.
Criminal!Sukuna who spends the rest of your visit inside you in some capacity â fucking, eating you out with your thighs locked around his head, making you ride him on the tiny bed âtil the frame creaks dangerously. Every time he cums, he begs to hear you say you love him again, hissing it back at you like a promise.
When the guards finally bang on the door to collect him, he snarls âfive more minutesâ and shoves his tongue back in your mouth. Trying to swallow you whole and take you with him.
Criminal!Sukuna who leaves the trailer with his shoulders loosened, lips swollen, fresh bite marks ringed around his throat and oh-so visible with his head held high. The dopiest, most lovesick grin painted fond across his lips.
Heâs gonna get out of here. And when he does, his girlâs gonna be waiting.
ââââ
Criminal!Sukuna who gets released on parole after god knows how long. The guards walk him out, and the world feels a little different. The air is clearer. And his womanâ
.
Where the hell are you?
Criminal!Sukuna whoâs a little disappointed when his parole officer is the one to escort him home. But he canât be too upset about it. You mustâve had it hard, too. Heâll make it up to you.
Criminal!Sukuna who almost breaks down the door on his way in.
DAAAARLING. GUESS WHOâS BACK FROM JAIIIIIILâ
Youâre sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, remote in one hand. Unimpressed.
âHi,â you sniff.
His eye twitches.
âWoman.â
âYes?â
âWhat the hell are you doing?â
âSitting.â
He drops his duffel bag with a heavy thud. âYeah. I can see that.â
Criminal!Sukuna who starts prowling around the apartment like a bloodhound. He checks the kitchen and the hallway and the bathroom and the bedroom â including the closet, the door to which he swings open so hard it bangs against the wall.
Bathtub. Bed. Under the bed. Back out again.
He stands silent for a long moment before storming back into the living room, planting himself in front of the couch and looming over you with a scowl.
âYou told me you were seeing someone.â
You lean a little to the left so he doesnât block your view of the TV, ignoring the freshly released menace like you havenât been yearning for his presence for the past four years. Serves him right. âI told you maybe.â
âMaybe means yes.â
âNo,â you reply, calm, âMaybe means maybe.â
âMaybe means there could be some guy sitting in my apartment right now.â
âOur apartment.â
âSame difference.â
You donât respond, and he feels the panic set in.
Sukuna trusts you. He knows you waited, and he knows you didnât have to.
What heâs more uncomfortable with is the memory of all those nights in his cell staring at the ceiling wondering if he would come back changed.
Itâs not like heâd know if or when that would happen. Itâs not like youâre blind to that possibility. Youâve probably spent just as much time wondering the same thing â if the man who came home would still be the one you loved, or just some asshole youâd have to learn to live with until your lease was up.
And if you did anticipate that, and you did move on, and there is some other guy? What then? What useless method of intimidation or blackmail or torture could possibly earn back your heart if he had already lost it somewhere along the way?
You glance up after a bit. A wry smile blooms across your lips when you see the worried set of his brow.
âThere is no guy,â you snort.
âYou sure about that?â
âYes.â
âThen why didnât you pick me up?â
âYou know where the apartment is.â
â..wouldâve liked balloons, at least.â
You register the little quiver in his voice with a hum.
Itâs kind of funny, because when he first got into prison four years ago, he was the one who tried to cut things off. Said he didnât know you at first â assumed you wouldnât want to associate with a convict. And now here he is, asking for welcome-home balloons.
âWow,â you muse, pausing your show, âprison really softened you.â
He glares down at you. You smile back.
And then he lets out a long, aggravated exhale, drags a hand down his face, and plops down onto the couch. The whole thing dips under his weight.
âMissed you,â he murmurs.
You laugh and let him pull you into his arms.
âYou big baby.â
Criminal!Sukuna whoâs âreformedâ. On paper. Ankle monitor long gone and patrol officer off his case. Heâs even scored a legitimate (albeit mundane) part-time mechanic gig, which youâre 90% sure he got solely because the owner of the shop used to joyride with him. Some big burly guy named Toji who overcharges his clients and busts all his earnings in a casino at 4am, no doubt.
Still, the itch never leaves.
Criminal!Sukuna who canât quite give up that pesky little habit of his. Heâll steal anything he can. Snatching your lacey panties right out the hamper just to shove them in the washer four hours later after jerking off until the fabric is soaked. And if ever you ask, heâll just shrug and feign innocence.
âDunno. Maybe they ran away from your stank ass puââ
You donât let him fuck you for the next two weeks, and from the desperate look on his face when you pass by, it isnât difficult to assume heâs in just as much agony as he was when he was behind bars.
Criminal!Sukuna who âborrowsâ your car keys and drives off. He doesnât have anywhere particularly important to be, but the jingle in his palm and the roar of the engine give him that good olâ dopamine hit. He goes down three blocks to the gas station just to buy the same energy drink you already have three packs of in the fridge, then comes back home and acts like he wasnât just driving on a suspended license.
Criminal!Sukuna whoâs reintegrated into society. And yet heâll never truly get rid of the urge â the whisper that he could do something, and he could probably get away with it, too.
But he wonât. Heâd kill himself before getting locked up again.
sukuna comes home with a new haircut and you don't know how to act
âoh my god"
itâs been about 30 seconds since sukuna entered through the door. heâs barely had any time to put down his bag and give you a greetings kiss before you literally launch yourself at him.
he kissed you goodbye before going to the gym, a regular routine, usually 45 mins to an hour. today he took a little longer but you figured he grubbed with his gym bros before coming home but something better was about to unfold.
âsomeoneâs extra jumpyâ he grumbles under his breath, oblivious about whatâs going on.
âare you serious?!â you shriek in delight. honestly, nothing could prepare you for what he was coming back withâa sexy mullet that quiet literally made you want to go down on him.
âi canât tell which way you want to devour meâ he says as he sees the look you have in your eyes.
âare you really asking me thatâŠyou come home all hot and sweaty, thatâs already something on its own, and then u get a haircut!? itâs not even just any haircut, a fucking mullet.â thereâs no way heâs going to act like this is a daily occurrence. for all the time youâve been together, heâs maybe changed the way he got his haircut a maximum of 3 times.
âwell why does that matter i justââ he starts to trip over his words, crazy i know, but soon gets cut off as you start to pepper kisses from his jaw to his face.
âyou sexy beastâ you say as you break away before finally melting into his lips hungrily kissing him as he quickly adjust to the pace as you feel the tiniest smile against your lips.
âyou crazy ass woman.â he tries to fight back, but the way heâs holding you says otherwise. âmaybe i should keep cutting my hair like this if it means i get to come home to this hmm?â he teases.
a small whine comes out of your mouth as you chase his lips for more. âah ah ah, slow down tiger, canât be too selfish now, babyâ you roll your eyes and tug at his hair in a playful manner. âwhatever.â
he chuckles as gives you a lighthearted kiss to your temple.
heâs right where he wants to be.
hello mulletkuna nation...first time writing so it kinda suck Ok?
WRONG. talk about it. shout about it. yell about it. scream about it. so what if itâs a fanfic? itâs done with love and passion. itâs art created by a fellow human being who, despite life and lord knows what battle they may or may not be going through, probably stayed up all night writing it before they shared it with the world for free. theyâd probably spent months or years writing it. itâs as much a piece of art and literature as any other art and literature that arenât fanfics. and unlike artists who make profit off their works, fanfic writers truly write for free, because they are that passionate about their stories. the least we can do is show them our love and appreciation.
tattooartist!sukuna carefully adjusted his grip on your arm, pulling the tattoo gun back with a quiet sigh. "Stop. Squirming," he mumbled, free hand tracing a gentle shape on your forearm. "It'll go by faster if you stay stillâyou asked for this."
"I know." You hissed, shooting him a pointed glare, Sukuna avoiding your gazeâknowing you were probably shooting daggers at him. "I just wasn't expecting it to hurt this bad."
"Hey, I warned you, dumbass." He grunted, wiping excess ink from your arm. "I told you all your friends who said tattoos felt like just a prick or 'tickled' were full of shit."
Sukuna pulled his crimson gaze to meet yours, lips falling into a frown at your unimpressed stareâthe way you were glancing between all of his tattoos.
"I don't know how the fuck you have so many tattoosâlet alone give yourself any." You mumbled, pulling your gaze away from his with a huff. "I thought it couldn't be that bad if you were practically covered."
"For one, practice; lots of practice. Secondly, they hurt, and thirdly? You like my ideas most of the time." He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. "And it was your idea for me to design matching tattoos."
Damn him, why'd he have to remember that?
"That was before it felt like you were ripping my flesh off."
"Babe. Don't be a brat; it's a tiny heart. Teeny tiny. I made it that size for a reason." Sukuna groaned, bringing the tattoo gun back to your arm. "I made it the size that I thought you'd tolerate bestânow shut up, I'm almost done"
"Made it the size of your heart." You hissed, straining to stay still as his free arm planted itself over yours, holding you steady as his fingers gently stroked your sideâfocus perfectly on finishing the tattoo.
Even if you were being whiny and annoying, he was finishing the damn thing.
"Say what you want now. We both know you're going to tear up and attack me with a hug & teary eyes when you see it finished." He hummed, not bothering to glance up at you.
"That'sâyou're exaggerating." You groaned, ignoring the flush that crept up your cheeks. "I'm not going to just pounce on my boyfriend."
"You do that all the time."
"SUKUNAâ" You hissed, jolting just a little to stare at him in shock as he expertly pulled the tattoo gun back in time.
"I said no moving. That means do not move. This is exactly why I did mine first." Sukuna grumbled, carefully finishing up the small red heart. "All done." He wiped it off carefully before rolling back from the chair just a little.
"Aw. Ryo... It's perfect." You whispered, staring at the perfect little heart on your arm, tears already welling up.
Damn it, why did he have to be right?
"Oh damn it. Don't cry, you big baby; I was kidding earlier." He groaned, rolling back to you quickly. "It looks nice on you."
"I want to see yours, Ryo." You whispered, running fingers through his hair as he pulled his wrist up, rolling his eyes as you smiled at the sight.
"You're actin' like a kid on Christmas over matching tattoos I promised I'd do." He huffed, resting his chin on your thighs. "Idiot."
A small figure crawls onto his lap. A scroll with a multitude of ink strokes is within his hand, four eyes scrutinising the tinted paper as if it had personally attacked him. In reality, he is just trying to cover up the fact that his heart slightly, slightly softens when his wife becomes needy.
Your eyes peek at Sukunaâs face which holds a feigned concentration. A bit displeased with his lack of attention, your hands come to softly tug his hand, to which he quirks a brow and shoots you a pointed look. You purposefully lean into his herculean-like figure, the bump on your belly pressed against his maw. It forms a small pout before softly kissing the swell covered with a layer of silk. A hand is placed upon the wide span of your hip, rubbing circles with his thumb on the plump flesh.
âI would request you of something.â You utter, leaning your head on his bicep. He lets out a soft grumble, quirking a brow at your plea before placing the scroll down to give his full attention to his wife, âWhat, woman?â
âCould you please cut up some peaches for me?â You give him the most sweetest puppy eyes look you could muster, a look which has gotten you out of many, many things with him. The king of curses purses his lips before allowing you to shuffle off him to retrieve your beloved peaches, specifically diced into small cubes.
But as soon as heâs about to exit through the sliding door of your private quarters, you sheepishly call out to further extend your request, ââŠAnd can you also add soybeans and tofu with it?â
Silence ensures, and you know heâs making a mental note in his head to not question the love of his life when her hormones are all over the place. His head did not turn back. He is ready to leave to get your cravings sort but then you continued, ââŠWith eggplant and boiled eggs also diced into cubesââ
That is what makes him snap his head back to stare at you, âWhat kind of abomination are you making me cook? Do you intend to eat this?â The words come quicker out of his mouth than processing it through his mind.
The stifle of giggles makes him snarl, stomping back towards you before leaning in to try and intimidate you, âDo you enjoy ordering me around like a slave? What else do you want me to fetch, hm? Fuckinâ.. beetroot from the ground now?â
â..Well, now that youâve mentioned it-â
âFor fuck sake, woman.â He growls before sauntering off and slamming the sliding door shut.
Yes, heâs going to collect beetroot straight from the soil.
đৠtrueform!sukuna spends some quality time with his little troublemaker. mlist.
after cleaning yourself, you walk from the bathhouse back to the main building of the estate. you had left your eight month old with his father for the past hour, so youâre curious as to what they have been up to.
you turn a corner and walk across the courtyard when you hear a familiar deep voice coming from nearby, accompanied by delighted coos.
âoi, get back here,â sukuna grumbles as he notices the baby hurriedly crawling over to the koi pond. he reaches an arm out before grabbing the kid by the back of his tiny robe, dangling him like one would hold a kitten by its scruff, âyou little shit. you tryinâ to feed yârself to the fish already?â
the baby babbles something that sounded suspiciously like âdada,â and reaches upward with both stubby arms.
sukunaâs mouth twitch just imperceptibly at the sound. not quite into a smile, but close enough for a stoic man like him. he sighs through his nose and shifts the boy to cradle him against his broad chest instead. the baby immediately grabs a fistful of his black kimono and tries to stuff it in his mouth.
you stay in the shadows a moment longer, watching the king of curses hold your son with careful indifference, the way someone might hold something fragile they refused to admit they cared about.
sukunaâs gaze slides to you as you finally decide to approach them, but he didnât speak. the child however, senses you immediately and reaches out with both chubby arms, making a soft demanding sound.
only then does sukuna release him into your waiting hands.
you press a soft kiss to the boyâs hair before looking up at his father with a giggle, âhe almost made it this time.â
sukuna huffs and crosses his upper pair of arms. âalmost,â he echoes, crimson eyes glinting, ânext time, i might let him fall in. teach the brat how to swim early.â
though as always when he speaks of his sonâhis tone carries no real threat.
itâs not planned. not really. youâre supposed to be getting paper towels. maybe milk. definitely not a stray, half-feral little gremlin in a cardboard box outside the store with a soggy handwritten sign that says âFREE!!! :)â in purple marker.
but then youâre crouched down next to it, cooing, âoh my god, baby, look at her,â and sukuna is standing three feet away with his arms crossed, very obviously pretending not to care.
âthat thingâs possessed,â he says, watching the kitten hiss at absolutely nothing. âiâm not living with some demon animal thatâs gonna claw my face off in my sleep.â
you pout up at him. âsheâs just scared.â
âso am i.â
you roll your eyes. âyou have four eyes. youâll be fine.â
he glares. sighs. mutters something under his breath about âbeing manipulated by the two most dangerous things on this earth: women and cats.â but he carries the box to the car anyway. carefully. holds it in his lap the whole ride home.
the first week: she hisses every time he walks into a room. hisses louder when he tries to feed her. tries to bite his hand when he moves too fast.
âi told you,â he grumbles, staring her down from across the living room. âdemonic.â
but then you walk in and find them asleep on the couch. sheâs curled up on his chest. his hand is resting on her tiny back. he wakes up and says âshe jumped on me,â but his phone has a hundred pictures of her in his camera roll.
the second week: he buys her a little pink collar with a bell. tells you itâs âso he can hear her coming and defend himself in advance.â
but he adjusts it carefully, gently, making sure itâs not too tight. calls her âbratâ with the softest voice youâve ever heard.
she follows him around the apartment like she owns the place. he pretends to be annoyed.
âdonât look at me like that,â he says when you catch him baby-talking to her. âthis is your fault.â
the third week: you come home late and find them curled up together in bed. sheâs tucked against his bare chest. heâs snoring softly. you try to take a picture. he opens one eye and says,
now: he claims he still doesnât like her. says she wakes him up too early and sheds on his hoodies. calls her âgremlinâ and âfreeloaderâ like heâs not the one who hand-feeds her treats and lets her sleep on his lap during movie nights.
you walk in on him once, cradling her like a baby, whispering, âyouâre lucky i love her, or iâd punt you across the street.â
you freeze in the doorway. âtalking about me or the cat?â
