💋ྀིྀི | a continuation of ex!sukuna with a print of your lips tattoed on him, i am hungry for this man
— ᨳଓ . pt. 1 — pt. 2 <here!> — pt.3 — pt.4
[ cw : sukuna is STILL pathetic for you, this part is sfw | reader gets called : princess ]
Sukuna had thrown his phone across the room in shame and hopped in the shower as soon as he saw that you read his message. He thinks you to be some sort of angel for not having blocked him after all this time but it makes sense because you always seem to see the good in people, including him.
The cold water hits his back as he runs his hands through pink hair. He remembers when he first dyed it, so long ago, and how you squealed in delight when you saw the large, tall man with biceps that may or may not be bigger than your head with light pink hair. You had ran your fingers through the thick stands of hair and made fun of his uneven roots and hands dyed pink for the next two weeks. You had made sure to help him whenever his roots had grown out, so it didn't look so choppy. He wishes he had the excuse of being drunk in response to your inevitable questioning text but he could never bring himself to lie to you.
When he steps out of the bathroom he ignores his phone and opts to harshly drying his head with a stained towel, another towel sitting low on his hips as he opens his bedroom window and lights a cigarette. You used to curl up beside him on his ratty couch on late nights, taking the occasional drag and sitting in the smoke with him. He hates how he can't seem to do anything without the lingering thought of you in odd corners.
When he finally decides to bite the bullet, he opens his phone with teeth gritted, forearms on his knees gripping the device.
you : sukuna ryomen.
He thinks that's just like you. Not cussing him out, not questioning, not blocking, just his stupid name as if you didn't already have him in a chokehold.
His hands are shaky, to the point where he thinks he might drop his phone. It's been a year and a half and he's sure you've moved on, sure you don't deserve his stupid ass texting you at god knows what hour.
sukuna : wasn't lying though
you : glad you know you're an idiot
you : if you're having a tough night i can talk but i'd rather not talk about us
His thumb hovers over the call button. He knows he shouldn't, knows you're probably happy, dating, living your best life without him. But he's always been a greedy son of a bitch.
💋ྀིྀི
You pick up the phone like it's second nature, his contact photo is still the same because you haven't been able to bring yourself to change it. It's a picture of the two of you someone took, it must have been Gojo or Shoko, you're at an amusement park, laughing at something he said and he's got this stupid grin on his face, looking at you. You used to have the picture framed on your wall somewhere before it hurt too much to even know it was there so you had thrown the frame out and shoved the picture in a drawer.
"Hey," his voice is gruff, low like you remember.
"Hi," you say evenly, "You're lucky I haven't reported and blocked you,"
You hear him snort and it brings you a smile.
"Don't know why you haven't yet," he sounds like he genuinely doesn't know. You hum in response, thinking through the question. You hadn't broken up on bad terms per se, but you hadn't broken up on good terms either.
"I don't know why either," is all you can offer him.
"I should probably get that tattoo covered up," he says, and you know what he's talking about without an explanation. You pause, you had assumed he would've covered it up already, it's not the best look, especially if he's been seeing other women and decides to be honest with them about who's lips are actually marked on him.
"I'm surprised you haven’t yet," you say with a small voice.
"Turns out people don't like it when you have your ex branded on you permanently,"
"They must think I'm crazy," you snort.
"Would never let them think that," he says and it makes you quiet. He says it so casually. As if the two haven't been avoiding each other at all of the group hangouts, as if this is the first time you've even had a proper conversation since the breakup.
"Is that why you messaged me?" you try and change the subject and he lets you for the sake of being able to hear your voice for a while longer.
"Was seeing a girl, she was upset I didn't have any plans to cover it up and broke it off with me tonight,"
"Shit, I'm sorry,"
"'S not your fault,"
The two of you sit in silence for a while. It makes you think how it doesn't even feel awkward, it's as if the two of you picked up right where you left off, except for the weeks leading to your breakup.
"My roots are growing out," he murmurs into the speaker not knowing why.
"Have you been keeping it pink?" he hears you smile and just wishes he could be in the same room as you to see that smile.
"Yeah, it's my look now I guess,"
"I think it suits you,"
"That's part of why I still keep it," he says and you ignore how it makes your heart flutter.
"Do you need help with the bleaching?" you ask and regret it when you're met with silence. You can tell he's thinking, and you're glad one of you is because you seem to be making mistake after mistake tonight by even interacting with him.
"Are you sure?"
"Mhm,"
"I'm free thursday night if you want to come over,"
author's note : reader has more grace and patience than i would have, but i would fold
ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ about.
wanting to surprise ryomen, your little trick turned against you when he had a surprise of his own. no sorcerers!au. (wc: 2.720)
ㅤㅤ ㅤ.ᐟ warnings.
suggestive. dick piercings. overthinking. chubby reader.
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ masterlist.
⭑ anthology masterlist.
After another business trip, you were dreaming of nothing but a good shower and a good night's sleep. Two things that were impossible to get at your own apartment, as your roommate was celebrating her engagement—and you hadn't been invited.
It was weird not really being allowed to go back home. Technically, you could still go and stay in your room, but the noise would be unbearable.
When you'd complained about it over the phone to one of your new work friends, she had simply laughed and said, "Go to your boyfriend's place, then."
Boyfriend.
She meant Sukuna. The truth was, though, that he wasn't your boyfriend.
It was hard to describe what you were. Exes with benefits? Friends who slept together? So you usually referred to him as a guy you were seeing without getting into specifics. You were having fun, you felt comfortable around him and you didn't really want to give yourself a headache trying to define whatever this was.
At first, it had been mostly sexual. Well not entirely, you still spent time together as friends, hanging out and enjoying each other's company—but eventually, sex always happened. Now, though? Almost eight months after that first night, it wasn't just about sex anymore.
Sometimes, you'd go to his place simply to eat good food, watch terrible TV shows, and then... go to sleep—warm and safe in strong arms. More and more of your things had gradually found their way into his apartment. You had a toothbrush there, a hairbrush and your dyson airwrap was neatly tucked away in what had somehow become your drawer, ironically the same you had when you lived here years ago.
It was crazy how easy it was to fall back into a routine.
So naturally, you pulled Ryomen's apartment key—the one you used to own, with the same Nick from Zootopia keychain—from your purse and unlocked the front door. The flat was quiet and dark, a soothing contrast to the chaos of airports, public transport and long flights.
It was perfect, especially since he wasn't home yet. You hadn't been completely truthful about when you'd be coming back, wanting to surprise him. As far as he knew, you still had four days left on a two-week-long business trip.
As quickly as you could, you took a long, well-deserved hot shower before slipping into some nice lingerie. You'd bought it during the trip with the enthusiastic guidance of your favourite colleague. Knowing you'd want to wear it as soon as you got home, you'd even washed it at the hotel, since doing so at your apartment wouldn't have been possible for your plan to work.
It was a beautiful black set embroidered with delicate pink flowers. The fabric was sheer—not completely transparent, but enough to accentuate your curves. With the matching bra and panties, it made you feel beautiful and sexy.
Studying yourself in the mirror, you liked what you saw. Even without makeup, the way Sukuna always looked at you made it easy to feel attractive—there were faint shadows beneath your eyes from the trip, and your eyebrows weren't as neatly groomed as usual. Beneath the fabric of your panties, the soft growth of hair was visible along the inside of your thighs. During your shower, you hadn't even considered shaving.
It had never mattered with Sukuna.
Even back when you'd been together, he'd told you countless times that he didn't care about body hair. He'd practically had to argue the point because you never seemed to believe him, that leading to small fight in the beginning of your relationship.
You were still admiring your reflection when you heard keys rattling at the front door.
With a startled gasp, you hurried to switch off the lights before rushing toward the bed. You threw yourself onto it, attempting what you imagined was a seductive pose. Your stomach felt awkward when you lay on your side, so you shifted around a few times, trying to look more natural.
When that failed, you gave up and decided to lean casually against the bedroom doorway instead.
From the kitchen came the sounds of cupboards opening and utensils moving around. It sounded like he was already starting dinner. With every minute that passed without him heading toward the bedroom, you felt yourself growing more nervous.
Then soft lofi music drifted through the apartment from the speaker.
Great. He wasn't coming anytime soon.
Taking a deep breath—though you had no idea why you were suddenly so anxious—you quietly made your way toward the kitchen, quietly.
There he was, standing with his back to you, slicing vegetables while meat sizzled on the stove. It already smelled incredible, but the meal you had in mind was probably better. On the bench near the front door, you had saw his work formal clothes laid in a pile as he was now wearing more comfortable sweatpants and a large shirt.
"Took you long enough." Ryo's voice cut through the comfortable silence.
Even though you were staring directly at him, you jumped. It was ridiculous. You were supposed to be the one surprising him or at least startling him a little. How on earth had he known you were there?
"You turned the alarm off, dumbass," he replied before you could even ask the question. He shrugged, still focused on the cutting board.
"Should've been more—" The words died in his throat as he turned his head and finally looked at you. "Oh." His eyes widened slightly. "Wow."
You didn't need him to say anything. The instant his gaze landed on you, you saw the unmistakable change in his expression, his eyes turned hungry the second they settled on you, roaming from head to toe. Of course, they lingered on the bra and panties, but you weren't about to complain.
Before he could say anything else, you rushed toward him, crashing into his chest. As soon as your body pressed against his, you pushed yourself up and kissed his lips fiercely. It felt so good to have him close again after days apart—a feeling that was almost nostalgic.
His reaction was immediate. Strong, warm hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer before drifting lower without an ounce of shame, pawing at the fat of your ass.
His lips met yours with equal enthusiasm. When he grew tired of bending down, Ryomen simply lifted you, turned around, and sat you on one of the kitchen counters.Immediately, your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing on his arse a way of urging him even closer.
The kiss went on for several minutes, neither of you pulling away and it was starting to drive you crazy. His hands were not venturing like they usually did, while yours were running from his shoulders to low stomach. Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you grabbed his wrists where they rested on your thighs and guided his hands higher and your boobs.
This new set was meant to be appreciated. You hadn't bought it for nothing.
Like muscle memory, his fingers moved instantly, tracing over the fabric with practiced ease, fondling at your chest with eagerness. The moment didn't last long, though.
"I can't," he murmured against your lips, sounding reluctant to pull away.
Humming softly, you ignored him and kissed him again. His body wasn't making any effort to move away from yours. If anything, he seemed just as affected as you were as you felt his dick chubbing between your legs.
"No, really," he said again. "I can't."
This time, hurt, you pulled back. Your legs slipped from around him and dropped against the counter. Of course, he could be tired, he could simply not be in the mood. But your brain immediately translated it into rejection—something that had always been a foreign thing with Ryomen.
You hadn't seen each other in a week and a half, you'd expected him to be all over you the way you were all over him. Maybe he didn't like the set you'd bought. Maybe whatever the two of you had been doing all these months was finally running its course.
I can't, he'd said. Did he have someone else? Surely he wouldn't have kissed you like that if he did. Then again, maybe he would if it was serious between them.
"Stop." His voice cut through the spiral in your head.
"What?" you asked, pulling your hands completely off him.
God, this was awkward.
You could already feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. Over the past few months, you'd grown comfortable again, safe and appreciated. Comfortable in a way that reminded you of your relationship before everything had fallen apart.
Didn't people always say that good things came to an end?
"Look at me." Ryomen's voice softened as he tilted your chin upward. "It's nothing to do with you. I just—"
"It's okay," you whispered.
You needed to get out of here, you were feeling the suffocating approaching and you couldn't stay in this room. Fuck your roommate. You'd hide in your room if you had to, anything to escape this embarrassment.
You shifted, trying to slide off the counter, but the warm, solid body standing between your legs didn't budge. Instead, Sukuna settled his hands on your hips, keeping you firmly in place.
"I got pierced," he sighed, already knowing exactly where your thoughts had gone. "It was supposed to be a surprise, but you came home early, so..."
Eyes widening, you stared at him before your gaze dropped instinctively between his legs. For several seconds, you looked down, then back up at him.
"Looks like you little minx weren't the only one with a surprise," he teased, his voice low as his eyes swept over you again.
To emphasize his point, his fingers slipped beneath one of the straps and let it snap lightly back into place.
"I'll be cleared for sex with a condom on Monday," he added. "The day you were supposed to come home."
The confession caught you completely off guard.
Sure, he'd mentioned wanting another piercing before, but surprising you wasn't exactly his style. Back then, he'd rarely stepped outside the routines the two of you had built together—a habit that had eventually led to more than a few arguments.
It was strangely heartwarming and a little heartbreaking.
Not because he hadn't cared about you—he always had—but because it showed a version of him that might have existed all along if things had been different. Maybe you living had been the electroshock he had needed.
The piercing was mostly for him, at the same time, he knew how much you liked them. He'd gotten his nose pierced during your third date simply because you'd drunkenly told him it would suit him when you first met.
"Can I see?" you asked, unable to stop yourself.
Laughing, Ryo pressed a kiss to your forehead before stepping back just enough to give you some space. Even then, his warmth lingered around you, comforting after the emotional roller coaster you'd just put yourself through.
A few moments later, he showed you the new jewellery. Three jewels were now on the back of his dick neatly done like the rest of the one he got. Jacob's ladder, of course, he had talked about this one.
The piercings were neatly aligned, catching the soft kitchen light alongside the one he already had. There was something oddly satisfying about how symmetrical they looked, as though they belonged there.
"Wow," you whispered.
"Knew you'd like it," he said with a grin before stepping closer again. "Can't really do much with it right now, though."
"It hurts?" you asked, lifting your eyes back to his.
He had already moved closer, hands braced on either side of you against the counter. Smirking, he shook his head and leaned in to kiss you again. It was brief this time, barely more than a peck.
"Not really," he murmured against your lips. "Just kind of uncomfortable."
Then the kitchen fell silent.
He leaned back to his full height, showing no sign of moving away anytime soon. Meanwhile, you were becoming more and more self-conscious as the adrenaline faded, the cold of the room hitting your body. Suddenly very aware of the outfit you were wearing, you started fidgeting with your fingers.
"Give me your shirt," you broke the silence.
"Why?" he asked, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips. "I like the view."
Without an ounce of shame, his eyes travelled over your body once more, making you feel oddly exposed. Lifting your arms across your chest, you tried to shield yourself from his gaze and looked away.
A quiet scoff left him before he stepped back completely, pulling his shirt over his head.
"Arms up," he said, it wasn't a request.
Rolling your eyes, you reached for the shirt, but his reflexes were faster. He pulled it out of your reach with an unimpressed look. You deadpanned at him, the very sale stare he returned.
With a dramatic sigh, you raised your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head himself. Before you could say anything, his lips were back on yours for a quick kiss.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he returned to cooking.
Shirtless and completely unconcerned about it—it wasn't as if he spent much time wearing one at home anyway—he moved around the kitchen while keeping you effortlessly woven into his routine. He'd kiss you in passing, rest a hand on your thigh whenever he walked by, ask about your trip and tell you about his own work.
It was so domestic that it made your heart pound.
Eventually, dinner was ready. The two of you settled onto the couch in the living room, plates balanced on your laps. Beneath his oversized shirt, the lingerie remained untouched, though it had started to feel uncomfortable.
Before you could properly relax, you slipped off the bra beneath the fabric, finally able to breathe normally again.
It ended up abandoned beside you on the couch. Sukuna noticed immediately, letting out a sigh as he shook his head.
"You're putting that back on later," he said around a mouthful of food.
"If you're nice," you teased.
The side eyes he gave you made both of you laugh before your attention drifted back to whatever random show was playing on the television.
"I got the new Mario Kart," Ryo said between bites. "Wanna try it?"
At his words, your eyes lit up. Mario Kart had always been one of your favourite games while it was also one of Ryomen's most hated. He was a terrible loser and absolutely despised getting passed right before the finish line. Which meant he'd bought the game for you.
Again, just like so many things he'd done recently, your heart started beating a little too fast. It felt like falling in love all over again.
"Yeah!" you answered immediately, already looking forward to destroying him.
That was how the rest of your night went.
You watched as the man who had once broken a controller over the same game carefully managed his frustration because he knew how much you hated seeing him get angry over something so small. How scary he could get as well.
The game that had once started countless arguments because he'd get upset whenever you laughed at his losses had somehow become something sweet. Even sweeter when Sukuna's laugh joined yours after getting hit by two blue shells in a row.
At one point during a race, while you waited for him to finish, you found yourself simply watching him. Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, he was so focused that his eyebrows were drawn together. Every now and then, you caught him biting the tip of his tongue in concentration.
Usually, by now, the evening would have ended in a screaming match or he would have rage-quit and locked himself in the bedroom.
But not tonight. Tonight, he was calm, laughing. Tonight, he was trying.
It was silly, really, as his attention stayed fixed on the screen, you quietly brushed away a tear that slipped down your cheek.
Better late than never.
And maybe this time... Maybe this relationship could work.
someone just made a blurb or oneshot about “ex!sukuna who threatens to release your tape if you don’t get back together with him” PLEASE HELP ME FIND IT!
💋ྀིྀི | PART THREE OF EX!SUKUNA WITH PRINT OF YOUR LIPS TATTOOED ON HIM, I HAVE MOTIVATION TO WRITE YAY
— ᨳଓ . pt. 1 — pt. 2 — pt.3 <here!> — pt.4
[ cw : sfw, there's more of sukuna lore, SLIGHT themes of abuse, naoya mention | reader gets called : nothing <3 ]
By the time Thursday comes, Sukuna has taken a cold shower twice, answered two of his hundreds of emails before giving up and cleaning his house, not once, but twice. His house wasn't particularly messy or dirty, so cleaning really meant he had rearranged his furniture twice and re-shelved his bookshelf maybe four times. You had agreed to come on the pretext of "just friends" and he had agreed, scouts honour, if only to see your pretty face up close again. It was the mature thing to do anyway, he had no intention on opening up old wounds with you.
However, looking presentable to you was important to him, so by the time he opens the door for you, all you see is a clean, tidy apartment past his shoulder. And when he looks down at you, he knows you haven't changed with those pretty eyes and that perpetual glow. He thinks is unfair that you're allowed to always just look like that all the time, the universe just lets you.
"Hi," you look up at him.
"Hey," he breathes out at the sound of your voice, "C'mon in,"
He watches you set your bag down on the coffee table before settling on the couch; on the spot you always used to take. Your bag is spilling out onto the table, your scent is lingering in the air, and he thinks he's getting deja vu of an old memory, of when you used to be his.
Fuck, you're saying something about the dye and he hadn't been listening, your eyes looking up at him expectantly.
"Sorry, say that last part again?"
"I was asking if you had any plastic bowls we could use to mix the dye,"
"Oh, yeah, it's all in the bathroom," he says, tilting his head towards the bathroom.
"Cool," you say quietly and follow him into his rather small bathroom. He has opted to sitting on the toilet making space for you to stand in front of him. He watches you open up the box and read through the instructions, humming to yourself and it feels so domestic. Like some god in the universe plucked the two of you and put you back in time two years back — this used to be routine for the two of you.
You put up your hair and he ignores the slope of your neck, he puts on a playlist you like, still in his spotify library and sees you smile, the quiet song filling the echoey walls of the bathroom.
"Okay, I'm ready," you say pulling the gloves on and you look down at him, head tilted. It's a feeling akin to the relief he used to feel when he would get caught breaking something as a child and look up to see his mother instead of his father. You give him that relief even when he isn't in any sort of danger. So he turns his back to you, lets you slide out of his sight, lets himself be vulnerable with you once again.
You run your fingers through his hair, the thick strands give away and create divots where your fingers trace his scalp. You feel him let out a breath as his eyes flutter shut. His knees are pressed up uncomfortably against the bathtub and the temperature in the small bathroom is increasing rapidly, but he cannot let a complaint fly out of his mouth as long as your fingers stay on his scalp. You haven't even used anything yet and he should question you about it and you should start the process before it gets too late, and—
Your phone dings loudly in the silence, you can practically feel it ringing in your ears. You see Sukuna's eyes flash to the screen before looking away. It's a message from some guy you matched with.
"Naoya Zenin?" Sukuna murmurs.
"I, uh, yeah?" you're glad he's not facing you, how awkward is it to talk about the other men you've been talking to, with your ex? "Do you know him?"
You hear him hum in response, as if he's thinking about how to word what he wants to say.
"Just make sure he's treating you right," he turns his head up to look up at you, "Better than I made you feel, yeah?" you frown.
"Sukuna I—" he gives you a look, the one he used to give you when he thought you were being stupid, "Yeah, okay, I will, promise,"
He grunts in response, apparently pleased, before looking down. You let out a silent breath of relief.
You jump back to the task at hand as a distraction, grabbing the brush from the bowl and pouring two bottles of pure chemical in and mixing them together. The chemical odour is strong in the small space even with the door open, it hits you hard and you have to blink and step back.
"Jesus christ," Sukuna coughs, you giggle before stepping out of the bathroom and going to his room across the hallway on instinct and opening his window. When you turn around, you see him leaning on his doorframe staring at you.
That's when you realize you're in Sukuna's apartment, doing his hair, and now you're in Sukuna's room, the same room that used to be yours once too.
"Shit, I'm sorry, I should've asked before coming in,"
"No it's fine," he murmurs quietly, "You never used to anyway, it'd feel weird," he is shrugging and is coming towards you in large steps, his eyes are on you and your feet are frozen and he reaches behind you and fixes the handle.
You forgot it would be at an angle to fall and break.
You blink, watching Sukuna narrowly avoid touching you, you're twisting your body to make space for him in the small space between his wall and his bed, he turns the handle down and makes sure it's sitting on the ledge so it doesn't fall.
"I forgot, I'm sorry," you say quietly.
"Stop apologizing," he turns to you and you look up at him, meeting ruby eyes. "You're doing me a favour remember?"
"Yeah, okay," you, stop to think before giving him a nod, "Yes,"
He thinks you're cute.
Your eyes catch on a picture on his table that you haven't seen before. He turns to look at what you're looking at.
"'S a picture of Yuji and I," he steps back to let you walk past him and look. You gasp, excited, grabbing the small frame standing on the desk. It's of when the two were boys, Sukuna has Yuji on his back in a piggyback, the kid shooting the camera a smile as Yuji reaches for the fireflies just above his head.
"Oh my god, you two were such cute kids," you practically squeal. Looking closely at the frame, Yuji still toddler sized and Sukuna only a bit older. "Does this mean—" you look up at him and he meets your eyes knowingly.
"Yeah," he nods, "we're good, been going to the gym together and shit,"
"That's great! I'm happy for you Sukuna,"
Sukuna wishes he hadn't lost you in the process so he could agree with you.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
He had been snappy and distant. You had known he was struggling with communication with Yuji and the situation with their father, his relationship with his father. You had listened to all he had to say one night and hugged him while he tried not to cry on your shoulder. He should've known to be grateful for the space and time you were giving him.
Instead he had snapped at you about something mundane, something you know he didn't care about at heart because you knew his head was occupied. But you had slapped him, it was — in Sukuna's opinion at the very least — well deserved, and you weren't going to let any man talk to you like that, let alone a boyfriend.
You remember going to your shared room, locking the door and crying about it. You didn't know that he was just on the other side of the wall, head between his knees on the couch, another beer in his hands, trembling at the thought of losing you, he knew it was coming and knew he deserved it with how he'd been with you for the past month.
You had broken it off the next morning, having packed all your essentials from the bedroom as best as you could the night before because you couldn't sleep. He had nodded, didn't say anything and went to the gym to give you the space to take the rest of your stuff and leave. You weren't quite sure if he even realized at that moment, but it had hit him hard. He had sat in his car in the gym parking lot a long while before entering, just trying not to cry.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
author's note : I HAVE A PLOT I PROMISE, WORK WITH ME NOW — *fucking explodes*
💋ྀིྀི | PART four uhhhhhhhhhhh
⟢ reader x ex!sukuna with the print of your lips tattooed on him
— ᨳଓ . pt. 1 — pt. 2 — pt.3 — pt.4 <here!>
wc : 2.1k
[ cw : sfw, naoya feature part TWO (sukuna punches him it's ok) | reader gets called : nothing <3 ]
You hum to yourself as you look around Sukuna's living room. You hear the faint sounds of the shower going as Sukuna rinses off the pink. It's a little bit jarring being back in his space and not having your stuff mingled in with his. Sukuna has never been the messy type, if anything, he was cleaner than you, and this fact shines bright in your face as you realize how minimalistic he is compared to you. His shelves are clean of dust, the cushions on he couch perfectly placed, his kitchen squeaky clean. Your eyes stop at a book on his kitchen island, a book you thought he'd like and bought for him, the book he never got to while you were still dating. You subconsciously reach for it and flip open the cover, you see the sticky note you wrote many months ago for him still stuck on the inside of the cover:
Thought you'd like it :)
Love you the most
You had signed it off with your name and a heart. You cringe at yourself, biting your lip, he must've not seen it for it to still be there. You decide to peel it off the book and crumple the sticky note in your hand, shoving it into your pocket, you didn't need more reminders of you embedded into his stuff, god, you were practically branded on him.
You shove your face in your hands, face heating at the thought of him on the other side of the wall, naked, the tattoo of your lips still on his collar.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
Sukuna runs his fingers through his hair, the water is still running pink as he stands under the cold water. He wonders if this was a bad idea, if he should've been a better man and stayed away from you, god, but you had responded, how couldn't he be greedy?
But now that you're here and have done what you have promised, he wants you to stay longer, to ask you to watch a movie, maybe a drink if you're down. He misses just talking to you — which was the most surprising part for Sukuna when you had broken up. He wasn't the biggest talker but you could bring it out of him, he could say whatever was on his mind and you would always have a response, he didn't care if it was agreement, disagreement, or even criticism but he just loved to hear whatever was on your mind because he would always learn something from you.
You were good for him, and he couldn't even make you happy.
He decides to get out of the shower sooner rather than later, the water dripping from his head is mostly clear and he doesn't have the patience to wash out all the dye while you're sitting on the other side of the wall again.
He steps out with a towel around his waist ruffling an already-stained towel to dry out the remainder of the water in his hair, he sees you look up from the couch and grin and he thinks he might have been forgiven for all his sins then.
"It's a bit of a darker pink this time," you muse, walking over and standing right in front of him. He bows his head like a dog for you, craning his neck down like he always used to do and you instinctively reach up and card through his hair.
"Thought I'd go a bit darker for the fall," he replies trying to ignore the way your nails scratch his scalp. You hum in response, checking to make sure you got all his roots and it looks like you did. You give his head a ruffle of approval before letting him go. When he stands back up again, tall, he has to look down at you.
"It all looks good!" you smile up at him and his mouth dries up.
"Thank you," his voice is low and sincere, watching you step back from him, if only to give you more room to breathe.
"I should probably go," you say quietly and when you look up at him, he's got this look you know of his that says he wants to say something, instead he walks you to the door and holds your bag as you put on your shoes. He opens the door for you, and you step through the threshold into the hallway.
“Thank you,”
“You said that already,” you giggle and he shrugs.
“Not just for the hair,”
“Take care Sukuna,” you nod and wave and he watches you walk away.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
When you had first seen Sukuna, he was this tall brooding figure behind the girl at the reception of a new gym you had decided to try. You think he was training her, a new hire maybe, helping her with whatever needed to be done on screen for you to get a two week membership. You had heard the yoga classes were relaxing and that the atmosphere lacked the creepy men that always seemed to be scattered around all the gyms in your city so you had given it a try.
He had given you a tour, answering all your questions kindly, albeit a bit intimidatingly. His hair was his natural black back then, making the red in his eyes pop. You're back at the front desk at the end of your tour, the large windows indicate how dark it had gotten already even though it was only around six.
"And that should be all, you can always call or come talk to us if you have any questions," he looks down at you with a small smile and you wonder if he has a girlfriend.
"Thank you," you smile, pulling your jacket on, "Have a good night!"
He gives you a small smile and a nod, waving back at you as you turn around.
You had seen him every now and then when you went to the gym, sometimes he's at the front desk, sometimes he'd be walking around, making sure things were clean, and sometimes, he'd be working out. It's been four months of going to this gym now, and this was the first time you're seeing him in the boxing ring. You're on the ground doing your stretches, watching the boxers practice and your eyes widen a bit as you see Sukuna duck under the rope, red gloves on. You watch him exchange blows with a taller, black haired man with a scar down his lip.
Your heart drops to your stomach when you see him look up and smirk after taking a particularly rough hit from the other man. You look away as your face heats and you don't catch how his ruby eyes track your face from across the gym.
"All done for the day?" you look up as you grab your water bottle and phone from the ground. You turn to see Sukuna, lopsided grin, and a bit sweaty tilt his head down at you.
"Yep!" god you sound chipper, you clear your throat, "I didn't know you were a boxer," he's walking with you toward the change rooms, boxing gloves dangling from his fingers.
"Just here and there," he shrugs. The two of you stop outside the women's change room, you turn to look up at him.
"Well, you should teach me sometime," you tilt your head up at him.
What the hell made you say that? You have no idea. This was a man you had spoken to how many times? You're not even on first name terms, what the hell were you doing flirting with him?
"Sunday? Place is closed but," he gives you that grin again and matches the tilt of your head, and you thank your lucky fucking stars.
"But you own the place," you can't help but grin back.
By the time you're in the change room, you've got Sukuna's number in your phone and plans on Sunday.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
"I mean, it's not like we ended on bad terms," you say, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you enter a cafe, a faint ding from the bell ringing above your head.
"Yeah, you guys ended on no terms, that's worse," you can hear Utahime roll her eyes as you step into the back of the line.
"It's fine! I just went and did his hair,"
"I just don't want you to get hurt again, even though Sukuna was going through a lot at the time," her voice is sincere through the line and you know she means well for the both of you, "but he's still into you, you know that right?"
"I promise, it's not like that," you bite your lip at the thought of the voice note he sent you.
You put her on hold as you make your order, reaching over the counter for your sandwich and coffee. As you turn to make your way out, your phone starts to slip, you let out a small yelp as you try and catch it while balancing your drink and you feel yourself run into someone.
You hear a grunt, the person in front of you has got a hand around your forearm, you've caught your phone but dropped everything else, the both of you are dripping in your coffee.
"Thank god you only drink cold coffee huh"
Your head snaps up and you see those familiar red eyes and pink hair. It was as if the universe had started spinning the opposite direction and everything stills as you look up at him, he's looking down at you, a faint blush across his cheeks, you think the two of you have stared at each other for a bit too long by the time you snap out of it.
"Shit, I'm so sorry Ryo," you say, stepping back and scrambling into your purse for napkins, you push a bunch to his chest and drop down into a crouch on your heels to clean up the mess on the floor.
You don't seem to catch how you called him what you used to: Ryo, not Sukuna, your Ryo. But Sukuna catches it, it latches on to the back of his mind and he knows he's going to think about it later.
He wills himself to crouch down next to you and as the two of you watch the brown liquid soak the white napkins and paper towels a worker had given you while they fetch the mop. He hands you the soaking package with your sandwich in it and you bite your lip as you look in to see that it was surprisingly not soaked.
"I owe you for dry cleaning," you say, surveying his soaked sweater. It was a grey one you've never seen before.
"No, you don't," he states, nudging you playfully before standing up as someone comes in with a mop. He's grabbed all of the soaked paper towel and is throwing it in the garbage, you stand up and apologize profusely and step out of the shop with Sukuna and groan.
"God, I am so sorry," you bury your face in your hands and you can feel his hands around your wrists as he pulls them away from your face.
"Seriously, don't worry about it," he looks down at you and you feel a warmth in your chest, he's always gentle with you, even still.
"Let me at least get your sweater clean,"
Before he can respond, the two of you turn at the sound of your name being called.
"So you're too busy whoring around with other men? That's why you've ghosted me huh?"
You see Naoya and feel yourself freeze. You had gone on one date and quickly realized that you were not up to entertain a relationship with a piece of shit like him. You had sent him a firm but kind message about compatibility that you truly did not owe him and he had spammed your phone with messages about how you 'led him on'.
"Excuse me, what the fuck?" Sukuna lets go of you and stands between you and Naoya so he can't get close to you.
"What the fuck man? Thought you got sick of her or something, was even willing to take your sloppy seconds,"
Before the black and white haired man can get closer, Sukuna has decked him in the face, and you've got his forearm in both hands immediately pulling him away, because you know Sukuna's strength, he lets you.
"Think before speaking to a woman like that next time, fuckin' piece of shit" he spits out spitefully before following you in the other direction of the street, leaving Naoya crouched over himself on the street with a potential broken nose.
💋ྀིྀི ✗♡✗♡
author's note : I KNOW it's cliché after cliché, let me have this
ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ about.
running back to your ex-boyfriend at every inconvenience might not be the best idea. and as time goes on, even the term “ex” might start to feel less fitting. no sorcerers!au.
ㅤㅤ ㅤ.ᐟ warnings.
smut. angst. insecurities. dominant man. kinda mean sukuna. chubby reader.
→ be sure to read each part's warnings.
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ masterlist.
⭑ on going.
an anthology ˎˊ˗
ᵎ!ᵎ the before
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ worst thing ever
ryomen and you had lived a very beautiful love story for about three years before it all went down, but the meeting itself? it was surely the antipode of romantic. (wc: 2.370)
ᵎ!ᵎ the after
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ calling after you
you can’t seem to stay away from the wrong men. they always seem nice and cute, until they’re not. despicable, mediocre human beings who leave you frustrated, insecure, and questioning yourself. their failures only drive you back into the arms of one person : your ex. (wc: 16.410)
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ not the usual mess
you should have known better, but they were just period cramps right? no need to bother anyone for this. (wc: 4.390)
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ stressed out
it’s in the worst moments of your life that you truly understand who really cares about you... or so the saying goes. (wc: 4.660)
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ so pretty
you were just a little curious about ryomen's new piercing. and honestly, who could blame you? (wc: 1.280)
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ so warm
the thing was, ryomen still knew your body as if you were still together. something that felt just as confusing as it was strangely heartwarming. (wc: 3.480)
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ surprise, surprise...
wanting to surprise ryomen, your little trick turned against you when he had a surprise of his own. (wc: 2.720)
ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ about.
the thing was, ryomen still knew your body as if you were still together. something that felt just as confusing as it was strangely heartwarming.. no sorcerers!au. (wc: 3.480)
ㅤㅤ ㅤ.ᐟ warnings.
smut. unprotected sex. dick piercing. chubby reader.
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ masterlist.
⭑ anthology masterlist.
This new job was so great it even came with a fancy, all-inclusive corporate trip. A business trip, sure but God, it was relaxing too. The two weeks you spent abroad were probably the most fun you'd had in a long time.
Your colleagues were amazing, the hotel was absolutely phenomenal, and the work itself was the easiest part. It took you so little time each day, and you were showered with praise from your manager, who insisted it wasn't that the work was easy—you were just good at it.
On the way back, settled into business class, you couldn't stop smiling. It felt like such a relief after your previous job, where no one was united or even kind. This job was easy, the pay was good, and it didn't fuck with your brain or your self-esteem. It was even more gratifying knowing you'd landed it on your own.
Ryomen had tried to set you up with a trusted client from his architecture firm—someone who was looking for a profile like yours—but you'd refused. You wanted to make it on your own.
That decision had led to a small fight. Ryomen couldn't stand seeing you miserable in a shitty job, refusing his help. He'd been trying to fix things in his own way, and it had pissed you off. You didn't need to be fixed, you needed the space to figure things out yourself. All you'd asked from him was support and a good dinner.
Falling back into old habits, you'd both shut down and kept your distance. Then, almost like a miracle, Ryomen had been the one who came back to apologise for overstepping. That had been the moment you truly started to think that maybe, just maybe, he had really changed.
As you sipped the free tea on the plane, all you wanted was a good night's sleep and, if you were lucky, some good dick. Even if the jet lag wasn't too bad, exhaustion weighed on you, your head starting to pound from lack of sleep and the relentless air conditioning.
When you opened the door to Ryomen's apartment, you were met with silence—save for the low hum of the fridge. Truth be told, it wasn't that early, but he'd warned you: a big project at work was keeping him late.
It was fascinating how much he loved his job. Once, that had been impossible for you to understand. You'd always believed people were lying to themselves, clinging to delusion to escape the truth that no one was ever truly satisfied. But as you undressed, leaving a trail of clothes from the front door to the bathroom, you began to realize that some people really were happy in their work.
Just like you were now.
After a well-deserved, wonderfully relaxing shower, you were finally ready to let the fatigue catch up to you. Checking the time, you figured Ryomen would be home within the next hour or two, so you could wait for his text saying he was leaving the office before ordering food.
Satisfied with that plan, you settled onto his couch and turned on the TV, landing on a silly reality show meant to kill time. It was about horrible mothers-in-law, and God it somehow made you grateful that Sukuna's family had always been surprisingly chill.
He couldn't say the same about yours.
The headache, however, refused to go away. It had started on the plane, and you'd assumed it was just from the trip, but now it stubbornly lingered. The pain wrapped around your head, creeping behind your eyes. You'd taken paracetamol, put your glasses on, dimmed the lights—nothing helped.
Closing your eyes, you focused on the show through sound alone, concentrating hard on not falling asleep.
When a soft blanket was draped over you, you jolted awake—startled and scared. Your foggy brain hadn't registered that you'd fallen asleep, so your heart slammed in your chest at the sudden presence in a place where you'd thought you were alone.
Without meaning to, your legs kicked out, striking the man in front of you straight between the legs.
"Fuck," he groaned, folding in on himself.
"Oh my God," you squealed, sitting up quickly, your hands landing on his shoulders. "You scared me," you tried to explain, though your thoughts were still fuzzy with sleep.
"Yeah, no shit," he grunted as he dropped onto the couch beside you.
Kneeling, you watched him lean his head back against the couch. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into black dress pants, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie laid abandoned on the coffee table. He was always so polished and well put together for work—it contrasted sharply with his rough, imposing presence.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, clearly trying to keep his groans of pain quiet.
"Sorry," you whispered, crawling a bit closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"It's fine," Ryomen mumbled, eyes still closed.
When he opened his eyes again, you were met with a sharp side glance. You answered it with nothing but a soft, innocent smile. Rolling his eyes, he clicked his tongue before leaning into your personal space, closing the distance in a kiss.
It was a gentle one—wordless, but heavy with meaning. Missed you. Glad you're here. Things Ryomen Sukuna rarely said out loud. He wasn't much of a talker, you'd learned to live with that.
"Hungry?" he asked when his lips finally left yours.
You nodded, your hands cupping his cheeks before you kissed him again. When you pulled away, he dropped his phone onto your lap and stood up.
"If you pay, you're going to your place," he said flatly before disappearing down the hallway.
God, he was annoying.
Since your new job came with better pay and actual benefits, the last time you'd ordered food together, you'd paid. A completely normal thing to do—especially considering he always covered food and your Uber when he was too tired to drive you home. When you even went home. You'd only been trying to be nice.
Days later, he'd realized you were the one who paid and had gotten mad—for no reason, in your opinion. Still, it was progress. He hadn't yelled, hadn't shut down. He'd talked. Explained why it bothered him.
His reasoning made sense, you supposed. You were new at your job, had lost a lot of income because of sick leave and vacation days at the old one—there'd even been a month when rent was hard to cover. You were back on your feet now, a few months in, but he didn't see it that way. He wanted you to have savings, just in case something happened. So he would pay.
That was his logic. One you didn't particularly like.
It was nice being taken care of, you couldn't deny that but sometimes, you just wanted to spoil him too.
"You're being patriarchal," you shouted after him, shaking your head.
It didn't take long for you to end up in bed after finishing dinner, settling in for what you hoped would be a good night's sleep. Ryo had told you he'd join you soon—he just needed to finish a floor plan. Said it wouldn't take long. That had been an hour ago.
You didn't really care. You were too tired to, anyway.
It turned out Ryomen wasn't working tomorrow either, and you'd already made plans. That new coffee shop you'd shown him a few weeks ago, then the architecture exhibition at the museum downtown, and finally a movie at home. Simple plans, good ones. Things you were actually looking forward to.
You were barely drifting off when you heard footsteps approaching. Annoyingly, the headache was creeping back in, dull and persistent, keeping you from fully falling asleep. You could feel exhaustion deep in your bones, and it was starting to get on your nerves.
There was nothing more frustrating than being tired but unable to sleep.
"Still awake?" came his low voice as Sukuna's body settled beside yours.
You were lying on your stomach, facing his side, eyes barely open. You watched him shrug out of his shirt and sweatpants before slipping into bed in just his boxers. Usually, he slept naked—you weren't sure why tonight was different.
"Not naked?" you murmured, a small smirk tugging at your lips.
"Felt a bit cold," he replied with a knowing smile, inching closer. "Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked again, clearly not letting it go.
"Headache," you mumbled into the pillow, eyes closing once more.
"Want me to make it better?" he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.
"'M tired," you said, pressing your cheek deeper into the pillow. "But turned on."
That earned a quiet laugh from him as his body moved closer. His warm hand settled on your ass, kneading it gently before nudging you onto your side, your back fitting snugly against his chest.
"Didn't say you'd have to do anything," he murmured against your neck, lips brushing and kissing whatever skin he could reach.
Once you were settled on your side, you felt his hands tug your shorts and panties down to mid-thigh, before taking them off completely. While you'd been away, you'd missed this—the intimacy, the ease with which your souls fit together.
Something you'd never felt with anyone else.
"Got a surprise for you," Ryo whispered in your ear, making you shiver.
When you only hummed sleepily in response, his hand lifted one of your legs, resting it over his, positioning you just right. In your exhausted haze, you didn't immediately register that something was different.
"It's all healed up now," he said, smug and unmistakably proud. "No more condoms."
Just as gently as ever, you felt his cock slide into you. Even with the piercing sensation you'd felt before through condoms, nothing compared to this. It was slightly cold at first, dragging slowly along your walls as he eased himself fully inside you.
"Oh, wow," you breathed out, a soft, breathless moan escaping you.
"Fuck," he exhaled against your neck, warm and shaky.
You could tell he was trying hard not to moan out loud. It had been a long time since you'd felt anyone raw, and God, you'd missed it. And from the way his hips pressed into you, slow and needy, you knew Ryomen had missed it too.
"We didn't do any tests," you murmured in a brief moment of clarity.
"I'm not fucking anyone else," he groaned into your ear as his hips began to move. "And neither are you."
The cold metal was getting gradually warmer, but the sensation of it sliding inside you was already driving you insane. How could it feel this good? It had never felt like this with condoms, and you were starting to regret all the time you'd done it that way. Of course, it had needed time to heal but your brain wasn't thinking clearly right now.
"Say you're not fucking anyone else," he said, a little harsh, one hand coming up to your jaw and forcing your face upward.
"I'm not," you replied between soft, needy moans.
His hips never stopped. They didn't rush, just kept a steady, unrelenting rhythm, the kind he knew would overstimulate you both. Especially after almost three weeks of nothing.
"Good girl," he murmured, nipping at your earlobe.
After a few minutes of slow thrusts and building pleasure, you heard him curse more than usual as the back of his hand pressed against your forehead.
"What are you—" you started, cut off by a moan. "—doing?"
His thrusts didn't falter. Ryomen had always been good at keeping his rhythm no matter what. It wasn't unusual for the two of you to argue even while having sex, and he was just infuriatingly good at doing two things at once.
"Are you sick?" he asked, breathless.
"No?" you replied, genuinely confused.
He let out a mix of moans and small whimpers behind you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. The sounds were intoxicating, enough to make you clench tightly around him. That earned another broken whimper.
"You're so fucking warm," he said quickly, like it physically hurt. "Warmer than usual."
That made you laugh, the sound breaking into little whines as he kept moving.
"Been so long since you had a pussy without a condom you forgot normal human temperature," you teased, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.
You felt the knot in your stomach tighten sharply, ready to snap. From the way his cock twitched inside you, it was obvious he was close too. Slipping your hand between your legs, you began circling your clit, intensifying everything.
A sharp slap landed on your ass, forcing a loud moan from your throat.
"You're getting sick," he said between his own moans. "Don't complain when you have a fever tomorrow."
"Sure, Doctor Sukuna," you mocked, fingers moving faster.
With one last hard clench around him, the knot finally snapped. Your head tipped back as a loud whine left you, followed by a broken moan when you felt him come too. The sensation was warm and familiar—something you'd missed more than you cared to admit.
The orgasm flooded your brain with endorphins, making you forget all about the headache, it was completely gone now. Behind you, you felt Ryomen trying to push deeper, his arms wrapping around your body to pull you as close as possible.
"Fuck," he breathed after a few seconds, letting out a soft, almost giddy laugh.
"That piercing was the best decision you ever made," you mumbled, sleepiness finally catching up to you.
That earned a full, deep belly laugh from him, his body rocking slightly against yours.
"Yeah?" he teased, his voice dropping a notch. "You like it?"
Just to push it a little further, he thrust a few more times, drawing soft, sweet moans from you—sounds you knew he loved. When you went quiet again, he pulled out slowly, careful not to rush the movement.
"Don't fall asleep," he said, nipping at your neck again, thankfully not hard enough to leave a mark. "Gotta pee."
With a loud groan, you rolled onto your back and pushed yourself upright. The movement sent a dull throb through the back of your head. Even though the headache was creeping back, the exhaustion weighed heavier.
Dick really was the best medicine.
A few minutes later, you were back in bed beside a now very naked Ryomen. He lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, scrolling on his phone with the other. You could tell he wasn't all that tired—he probably would've gone for another round if you hadn't clearly been ready to sleep.
Resting your head on his chest, you glanced down at his phone, immediately unprepared for what you saw. You frowned, eyes glued to the screen as he zoomed in.
Why was he looking at penises?
"Thinking of getting this one," he said casually, as if reading your mind. "What do you think?"
Then you noticed it, small metal beads lining the underside of the penises he was looking at. Another piercing. Of course.
"Jacob's ladder?" you asked. When he hummed in confirmation, you tried to picture it on him. "Would look pretty."
"Would feel nice too," he added with a smirk.
"In, like, another six months of condoms," you mumbled against his warm skin, your eyes slipping shut.
"Oh fuck," he muttered. "Didn't think about that."
"Obviously," you replied, shifting closer to get comfortable.
The headache was starting to come back, and you wanted to fall asleep before it got worse. Your throat was beginning to ache too, and you wondered if maybe Ryomen had been right after all.
Surely your pussy temperature couldn't indicate illness.
…Right?
You woke up to shivers running down your body. You felt warm and freezing at the same time. Just as you tried to turn over, searching for a cooler spot on the mattress, a heavy weight dropped onto you, another blanket. A weighted one.
Groaning, you tried to open your eyes, but failed. You managed to push weakly at the blankets instead, it felt suffocating.
"You need to sweat it out," a deep voice said above you.
Forcing your eyes open, you found Ryomen standing beside the bed, hands on his hips. He was wearing shorts that hung low on his hips, like he'd thrown them on in a hurry.
"Told you you'd get sick," he taunted, the I told you so clear in his tone. "You doubt my pussy-reading gift."
You groaned in response, trying again to shove the blankets away. Ryomen didn't let you. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed them back down, then leaned half his weight onto your chest. His face was close now, close enough for you to see that look in his eyes, the one that meant there was no arguing.
"You're heavy," you mumbled, finally letting your body relax.
"And you like it," he shot back immediately, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Now stay still."
"I'm hot," you tried to argue, already knowing it wouldn't change anything.
"I told you," he said again, and you knew he'd been waiting a long time to say it.
Without meaning to, you fell back asleep. It was the strange kind of fever sleep that felt endless, broken into short moments of consciousness where you were either burning hot or freezing cold. Sometimes there was a warm towel pressed to your forehead, other times, a hand checking your temperature.
When you finally woke up for real, you were alone again.
You could hear noise coming from the living room. Wrapped in soft blankets, you dragged your feet out of the bedroom and into the main room, where you found Ryomen sprawled on the couch.
A movie played quietly in the background while he typed rapidly on his laptop, jumping from tab to tab, completely absorbed.
"Hi," you said.
Ryomen screamed. Not yelled—screamed. Pure, startled fright.
When his narrowed eyes finally focused on you, you burst out laughing, which quickly turned into a painful cough. It was rare to catch him off guard, he was usually hyper-aware of his surroundings. He must have either been deeply focused or very confident you'd be asleep all day.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he snapped, setting his laptop aside.
"Here as in… your place?" you asked innocently, fully aware of what he meant and choosing to mock him anyway.
He shot you a glare before standing. The way he approached you felt predatory, like he was sizing up prey, eyes flicking over you, lingering on your bare legs with a frown.
"Sit down," he muttered, guiding you back toward the couch before disappearing into the kitchen.
You changed the channel and burrowed deeper into the blankets, pulling them up to your neck. You looked like a little fur ball on his couch, and honestly, if not for the fever and sore throat, you would've been perfectly comfortable.
When Sukuna returned, he carried a steaming mug in one hand and two pills in the other.
"I ruined our plans for today," you said, freeing your hands from the blankets to take the mug. The warmth felt heavenly against your cold fingers.
"Yeah, you did," he replied neutrally, not accusing, not mean.
He sat back beside you, set his laptop on his thighs, and returned to work. He didn't say anything else, and you weren't sure what there was left to say. You probably should've said something.
When you opened your mouth to apologize, he cut you off immediately.
"Don't," he said, clicking his tongue. "You didn't do it on purpose."
You closed your eyes and turned your head slightly, studying his profile. You weren't sure how you'd ended up pulling someone like him into your life, but you were glad you had. He was rough around the edges, quietly attentive—never one for many words, but always showing up through his actions. Saying I love you didn't come easily to him, even now that you were back together.
But he showed it every day.
Smiling, you stayed silent. It was obvious he didn't want you to say anything. For some reason, he hated having his care thrown back in his face. Not because he was ashamed of you, far from it. He had no issue keeping a hand on your ass in public or pulling you onto his lap without a second thought but thank him for something, and he'd turn red as a tomato.
Whatever his logic was, you didn't know. And you didn't really care.
Not when your heart was pounding like it had that very first night you slept over, nervous and excited all at once.
