𝄞 contains: fluff, absolutely lovesick and smitten sae, hes a bit dry, established relationship, domestic fluff, he visits japan towards the end, some suggestive moments, mentions of shidou and rin, usage of babe and baby
𝄞 A/N: awwwww my cutie pie sae i made these little random bf texts for fun! i hope u guys enjoy my first smau hehehehehe
a/n: a nonsense christmas has to be one of my fave new christmas songs ever bc the lyrics LMAO
also happy holidays!!! i can’t wait to do this event because i love this time of year and also because i have received such wonderful ideas from many of you <3
synopsis: how do they feel about you sitting on mall santa’s lap for a picture? definitely not happy!
he says it like he’s reciting his personal bible verse: “i’m not jealous. i’m mature. i’m secure. i’m not threatened by… santa.”
except he totally is, because the second you mention taking a picture, his eyebrows shoot up like you told him you were going clubbing with your ex.
he walks with you to the santa line but he’s tense, fidgeting like a teenager on his first date. trying SO hard to act normal.
he keeps looking around like he’s pretending to check the mall decorations, but girl… he is not looking at the decorations. he is making sure santa doesn’t look at you for too long.
when santa says you have a pretty smile? isagi’s brain crashes. straight-up blue screen. “haha… yeah she does…” he says, but his voice cracks and his eyes go dark.
santa pats his lap and tells you to sit and isagi freezes in place. literally freezes.
his inner monologue is just: no. no. no. no. no. no. NO–
he stands off to the side like a concerned father watching his daughter talk to a shady man, but also like a jealous boyfriend who’s two seconds from throwing hands with the jolly old man who gives out candy canes.
the entire picture-taking experience is just isagi pacing in the background, hand on his hip, jaw tight, whispering under his breath like he’s reviewing enemy formations: “okay so santa’s hand is at a 45 degree angle on her waist– that’s too close. too. close.”
when you walk back, he tries to smile. he TRIES. (he fails.)
“did… did you have fun?” he asks, sounding like his soul left his body.
when you tease him about being jealous, he gets flustered and defensive: “i’m NOT jealous! i just don’t like when old dudes touch you like that, it’s weird– it’s creepy– i don’t like it–”
you kiss his cheek to calm him down and that’s when he melts. like butter in a pan.
he wraps both arms around you and tugs you close, burying his face in your neck.
“i should’ve been the one holding you like that,” he mumbles, breath hot on your skin.
back home, he gets bold. alcohol might be involved.
he pulls you onto his lap – deliberately – hands firm on your hips. “sit here,” he says softly. “not on anyone else.”
and when you call him jealous again, he kisses you senseless instead of answering.
itoshi rin
rin itoshi has never admitted to jealousy in his LIFE. he would rather swallow a live grenade.
so when you mention taking a santa picture, he shrugs. “do whatever you want. i don’t care.”
except… he follows you all the way to the santa display and stands behind you with the energy of a wolf guarding its territory.
santa greets you with a “hello sweetheart,” and rin’s eye twitches so hard the elf helper steps back.
when santa encourages you to sit on his lap, rin’s head whips around like he just heard blasphemy.
excuse me? you want WHO to sit WHERE?
he doesn’t say anything – he just stares. a deadpan, murderous, “i hope the north pole melts from global warming” stare.
during the photo he stands in the background with arms crossed, veins in his neck, jaw tight enough to snap.
you swear you can feel his glare burning into the back of your head.
the second you stand up, rin is beside you IMMEDIATELY.
“we’re done here,” he mutters, grabbing your hand and pulling you away like santa is contagious.
when you tease him about pouting, he goes straight to denial: “i’m not. why would i pout? that’s ridiculous.”
meanwhile he’s walking 20% faster and squeezing your hand a little too tight.
you poke his cheek and he catches your wrist, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his.
“don’t sit on other men’s laps,” he whispers, voice so low it rumbles through your chest.
later at home, the jealousy SIMMERS. rin sits on the couch and just stares at you.
“come here.” it’s not a request.
you climb onto his lap and his hands immediately grip your thighs, sliding upward, thumbs stroking dangerously close to heat.
“if you wanted a picture with someone,” he murmurs against your collarbone, “you should’ve taken one sitting here.”
yeah. he cares. he cares a LOT.
itoshi sae
sae is secretly DELUSIONAL.
he genuinely believes he doesn’t feel jealousy. he’s convinced himself that the concept is beneath him.
so when you say “let’s take a picture with santa,” his first reaction is not jealousy – it is pure judgment.
“why.”
he follows you anyway, hands in pockets, bored expression on his face… but his eyes are laser-focused on every movement happening near you.
santa compliments you and sae’s face doesn’t change, but you know him. he’s irritated on a molecular level.
santa pats his lap and sae inhales slowly like he’s about to commit a felony.
you sit. he watches. and the stare he gives santa is SO cold that three elves take a step away.
during the photo, he looks like he’s analyzing santa’s entire existence and finding him pathetic.
once you finish, sae immediately steps to your side, puts his hand on your lower back, and guides you away like santa is contaminated.
“did you enjoy yourself?” he asks, tone flat, but eyes sharp.
translation: tell me you didn’t. tell me you hated it so i can relax.
you tease him with “aww are you jealous?”
sae looks you dead in the eyes. “no. but i am annoyed.”
he insists it’s annoyance. not jealousy. nooooo never jealousy.
but please. this man is seething because santa breathed the same air as you.
at home, he sits on the couch and pats his thigh. “come here.”
when you do, he pulls you onto his lap, arm around your waist, lips on your throat.
“this is where you sit,” he whispers. “not on strangers.”
and the way he keeps your hips pressed down against him? yeah. the man was jealous.
nagi seishiro
nagi hates effort. he avoids it at all cost. so when he gets jealous, it’s EXTRA funny, because he exerts so much energy trying to pretend he’s not.
you tell him you want a santa picture and his whole body slumps. “ehhhh… why…? that’s so much work…”
and yet he gets up and follows you immediately, clinging to your arm like a sleepy guard dog.
santa compliments you and nagi’s eyes open. like… fully open. (this only happens when something’s bothering him.)
santa pats his lap for you and nagi leans forward, eyebrows knitting together. “what? you’re gonna sit there?” he sounds betrayed.
during the photo, nagi stares with heavy-lidded suspicion, like santa is doing a side quest he hasn’t unlocked yet.
when you finish, nagi grabs your hand and tugs you toward him, pulling you against his chest.
“didn’t like that,” he mutters into your hair.
you tease him and he groans into your neck. “i’m not jealous. i just don’t wanna share you. too much effort.” HIS VERSION OF A LOVE CONFESSION BASICALLY.
at home, he collapses onto the couch and opens his arms. “c’mere. i wanna hold you.”
when you settle onto his chest, he lets his hands wander down your waist, sliding under your shirt with lazy, possessive touches. “you’re warm…” “sei–” “shh. stay. you sat on someone else today. now you sit on me.”
jealous, lazy, needy. the trifecta.
mikage reo
reo is the kind of boyfriend who insists he’s fine even when he’s dying inside.
when you bring up the santa picture, he’s TOO enthusiastic. “yeah! that sounds fun! let’s do it!”
translation: that does NOT sound fun, but i love you so i will pretend.
santa calls you gorgeous and reo’s smile gets shaky. “right?? she is!! hahaha… ha…”
when santa gestures for you to sit, reo visibly glitches. his smile freezes, eyes widen a fraction, shoulders tense.
he looks like a man clinging to his last molecule of composure.
the entire photo, reo stands off to the side, hands in pockets, bouncing on his toes like he’s ready to intervene at any moment.
santa’s hand moves? reo notices. santa laughs too loudly? reo flinches.
when you stand up, reo rushes to your side, basically wraps you in his coat. “yaythatwascuteokaywe’redonenowtimetogo!!!” he says way too fast.
you tease him and he immediately denies everything, waving his hands dramatically: “jealous?? me?? noooo– i just– i mean– the guy’s beard was fake! and his gloves were dirty! i’m just concerned!! i’m not jealous!!”
he is absolutely jealous.
back home, he gets extra clingy. he grabs you by the waist, lifts you onto the counter, and crowds between your legs.
“i want a picture too,” he murmurs, hands sliding along your thighs. “one where you’re on MY lap.”
he ends up taking like forty. polaroids. self-timer photos. lighting adjustments. angles. reo becomes your personal thirst-trap photographer.
later he flops onto you on the couch, face buried in your chest. “i’m not jealous,” he mumbles.
you kiss his forehead. “yeah, babe. i know.”
he absolutely was.
bachira meguru
bachira is the only one who admits he gets jealous… but he admits it in the WORST way possible.
“you’re taking a picture with santa? oooh, but don’t sit on his lap, okay? i’ll get sad and have to bite him.”
you think he’s joking. he is absolutely not joking.
he follows you to the santa display bouncing on his heels, holding your hand like a kid in disneyland, but his eyes are tracking santa like a predator.
santa calls you “sweetheart” and bachira leans in and whispers: “hmm. i don’t like that.”
and he says it with a smile that looks cute on the surface, but something in his eyes says “i’m feral and i would fight a reindeer for you.”
when santa pats his lap, bachira’s grip on your hand tightens. “oh? you’re actually gonna sit there? really? hmm.”
during the photo, he crouches behind the elf standee, peeking around it like a stalker.
he waves at you. YOU WAVE BACK.
santa thinks you’re waving at him. bachira’s smile drops.
as soon as you get up, bachira runs over, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, and buries his face into your shoulder. “mine,” he mumbles.
santa coughs awkwardly. bachira doesn’t care.
you tease him about being jealous and he literally WHINES. “of course i am! you’re so pretty! i don’t want other men touching you!” he says that in the middle of the mall without even blinking.
at home, he turns into a koala. he climbs onto your lap, arms around your neck, forehead resting against yours.
“can i have my own christmas photo?” he asks, voice low and warm.
next thing you know, he has you straddling him as he snaps pictures on his phone, laughing, kissing you between every shot.
“see?” he whispers against your jaw. “this lap fits you better.”
okay feral boy. we get it.
shidou ryusei
shidou acts like he’s TOTALLY COOL with it. the confidence is insane.
“yeah babe, go sit on santa’s lap. he’s old. what’s he gonna do? croak?”
but the second you actually walk toward the mall santa display, he follows right behind you like a guard dog.
santa says “hello gorgeous,” and shidou SNAPS his gum so loud the elf jumps.
“hey old man,” he says with a grin that does not reach his eyes.
when santa invites you to sit, shidou’s whole body tenses like he’s about to square up with a 70-year-old man in a red suit.
he actually puts his hand on the seat first.
“just checking,” he says. “making sure his knee won’t break when you sit.” (he is not checking that.)
during the photo, shidou poses next to the set like he’s in a GQ shoot, chin tilted, jawline sharp, but his eyes are locked on santa’s hands like he’s timing how long he touches you.
when you get up, he immediately slings his arm around your neck and pulls you in against his chest.
“alright, picture’s done, get your hands off my girl, merry christmas, whatever.”
you tease him. he denies nothing.
“yeah i’m jealous, so what? you’re hot. i know you’re hot. santa knows you’re hot. i don’t like that santa knows you’re hot.”
at home, he’s all over you.
he drops onto the couch and pats his lap aggressively. “sit. now.”
you raise a brow.
“what? i didn’t get my turn today.”
you end up in his lap with his hands traveling your thighs, fingers hooking into your waistband as he murmurs, “you looked better here anyway.”
santa could never compete.
karasu tabito
karasu pretends he’s above jealousy.
“mall santa? seriously? that’s the competition? be for real.”
except the SECOND you get to the display and santa says “what a lovely young lady,” karasu is suddenly right behind you, hand on your hip like he teleported.
santa pats his lap. karasu’s smile drops for 0.2 seconds.
“ya want her to sit there? bold of ya.”
santa has no idea what kind of energy karasu is giving off, but he definitely feels it.
karasu watches the photo session like he’s analyzing a weakness in an opponent – arms crossed. eyes narrowed. leaning slightly forward.
he’s taking mental notes on santa’s hand placement bro.
as soon as you stand, karasu steps in with that smooth, smug confidence: “all done? good. c’mere.”
and he pulls you in by the waist, positioning your body squarely against his like he’s re-staking his claim.
when you tease him about being jealous, he scoffs. “jealous? no. i just don’t like when people who can’t even run a mile hold ya like that.”
okay athlete superiority complex.
later, he whispers in your ear: “ya want a picture on someone’s lap? use mine.”
at home, he sits on the bed, legs spread slightly, patting his thigh with a raised brow. “don’t make me ask twice.”
when you settle on his lap, he rests his hands on your hips and kisses your neck slow, deliberate, possessive.
“much better,” he murmurs. “this is where ya belong.”
santa could never. even on his best day.
kaiser michael
kaiser PRETENDS he doesn’t care harder than anyone else.
“if you want a picture with santa, go ahead. doesn’t matter to me.” that’s what he says.
what he does is follow you like your designer, personal-space-invading bodyguard.
santa looks at you and says “you look lovely” and kaiser lets out a VERY audible “tch.” not even subtle. the elf gives him a side-eye.
when santa tells you to sit on his lap, kaiser smirks like he’s about to ruin someone’s self-esteem. “careful, schatz. don’t break his hip.”
during the photo, he stands behind the set, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, looking like he’s judging santa’s entire life's worth.
the jealousy is PALPABLE.
he looks like he’d sue santa for breathing near you.
when you return, kaiser immediately wraps an arm around your waist and pulls your body flush to his.
“got your stupid picture?” he murmurs. HIS TONE. OMG.
you tease him and he lifts his chin. “i’m not jealous. i simply have higher standards for men who get to be within one meter of you.” (okay king ego.)
at home? oh he is insufferably jealous.
he sits on the couch and pulls you into his lap like he owns the seat and you.
“i want my own photo,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear.
then he takes pictures of you sitting on him – some cute, some definitely not innocent – his hand gripping your thigh, his smirk smug as hell.
“santa could never handle you like this, liebling.”
oh he’s jealous. but he’s also winning.
ness alexis
ness is usually so sweet and polite that seeing him jealous is… a religious experience.
when you mention a santa picture, he smiles a little too tightly. “oh! okay! if you want to!”
he is mentally unraveling.
santa calls you beautiful and ness’s eyes widen, then narrow for the FIRST TIME EVER.
“haha… i know she’s beautiful right…” but the smile never reaches his eyes.
when santa tells you to sit, ness freezes like his operating system is lagging. “ah… you’re… sitting… okay… alright…”
he is ascending into heaven and hell simultaneously.
during the photo, ness stands behind the elf bench, peeking around it like a haunted victorian child, eyes HUGE and unblinking. he looks like he’s watching his soulmate get stolen.
after you stand, ness rushes to your side and immediately takes your hand, gripping it firmly. “all done! let’s go! now!” the urgency is insane.
when you tease him, he blushes, but also glares. “i’m not jealous… i just… didn’t like it… you’re not his…” OH HE SAID THAT WITH HIS SOFT VOICE. GAME OVER.
at home, he becomes a quiet, clingy menace. he pulls you onto his lap and hides his face in your neck, arms tight around you.
“stay here,” he whispers, breath warm. “don’t let anyone else hold you like that ever again.”
then he trails soft, slow kisses up your throat, hands sliding under your clothes with gentle, but undeniably possessive touches.
“i want my own christmas memory,” he murmurs against your skin.
oh he’s jealous. but he’s also quietly dangerous about it. so you might as well give him what he wants.
sukuna has always dated brats with bad attitudes, so when he had a shitty day at the gym and takes it out on his adorable girlfriend he expects to be yelled at back, but instead he's met with the thickest feeling of guilt imaginable.
(angst to fluff, yelling on sukuna's end, lowkey kinda toxic sukuna but he gets better in the end :p)
wc: 3k || art creds: @/akura_tsuna
total and utter brats is what sukuna was used to. girls with a big ego and an ever bigger attitude, but you? his new, adorably sweet girlfriend? you were quite literally the polar opposite of a brat, and he was about to figure that out real quick.
he stomps with heavy and angry footing into the apartment, he was pissed off, like, really pissed off. some ass fuck at the gym decided to get all up in his face over him accidentally leaving a few plates on the deadlift bar, (something he never usually did, his mind was just filled with other stressful life shit.) so he pulled a few punches and that was that.
that asshole figured out quite fast that sukuna's massive muscles weren't just for show.
he let out a groan of pure frustration and anger as he stepped further into the apartment dulling any sort of positivity that dare disturb his ridiculous state of mind.
you’re too occupied pottering around the tiny off campus apartment in your cute little socks and pretty sweater to notice his foul mood just yet. singing some beabadoobee song quietly to yourself while trying to plate up the dinner you'd made just for him.
kuna always comes home hungry after hitting the gym, especially arms, so you decide to give him something nice and warm for when he gets home, y'know, like the great and loving girl you are?
you're about to pour him a glass of ice water when you hear the door shut just a little too aggressively.
you can't help but flinch, not because you’re scared, but because you know that kind of sound. it’s the sound people makes when they're exhausted, frustrated, not very happy with the world. you were used to this energy from others, but you were yet to experience it from your boyfriend.
you peek your head around the corner.
“hey, ryo.” you say in that soft, dainty voice he still hasn’t fully gotten used to. the one that normally made him melt into a puddle of gooey love and adoration, but right now all it does is remind him he’s tired and really agitated. “i got dinner all ready for you, love.”
he grunts, that’s it. a grunt.
he chucks his duffle bag down on the couch, wipes his hand down his face and mutters something under his breath about 'fuckwits at the gym.' you try to ignore the obvious annoyance in his voice and shyly tiptoe back into the kitchen then bring him a pink plate full of dinner, holding it in both of your precious hands, offering it to him like a gift you'd made just to cheer him up.
and then he decides to turn into the biggest dick face on the planet, too frustrated to be civil, apparently.
with no sort of preparation or hesitancy, he sharpens his deep red eyes at you and crosses his biceps over his chest.
“th' fucks this supposed to be?”
you stiffen up a lil. “it's… your dinner?”
you watch as his eyes fall darker and his fists clench. “what? you know i don’t eat before i shower. you put the whole thing together just to let it get cold?”
...huh...?
you'd never been talked to this carelessly by sukuna before... your eyes get the tiniest bit glossy, but you try to fight it off as best you can. “i… i thought you’d want it now because you always say you’re starving when you get back…” you whisper.
“yeah? well, today i’m not fucking hungry.” his voice rises in a way it never has with you. a way he used to talk to girls who’d scream right back at him, get in his face, throw something at the wall. “god, do you ever listen?”
"i- i'm sorry... i just thought-"
"wow? thinking for once? didn't know your dumb little head was capable of that."
...ouch.
you could physically feel your throat pulling tight, it burned to breathe through his venomous insult..
“honestly, the last thing i need right now is some damn girl trying to play house with me after i've just worked my ass off all day, it's fucking annoying,” he shoots, beginning to pace, ignoring the way your face contorted into that adorable yet heart crushing pout.
'some damn girl?...' was that all you were to him?..
he’s not looking at you. he’s talking at you, like you’re just another outlet for whatever’s eating at him. this big, loud, overwhelming presence filling your little apartment with his booming voice rising and rising with each word, and you can’t even process half the things he’s saying because your brain is doing that fuzzy weird panicy thing. you don’t know whether to get up or stay still or just disappear on the spot forever..
you're silently listening, but he just keeeeps on going.
"you think i want you shoving shit in my face the second i get home?! let me take a damn break for once in my life, woman!”
...
behind your ribcage you can feel the crack, crack, crack, of your heart with each piece falling into your stomach and smouldering into a thick ash, like you were an insignificant bug that wasn't worth this man's time.
and it’s right there in the silence that something finally flickers in his stupidly ignorant brain.
because this is the part where someone should yell back, where someone should tell him to go fuck himself, or throw the plate down, or call him an asshole, or storm out. or anything!
but you don’t.
you just stand there ever so sadly, you hold your arms around your body like they might save you from the stomach pains you'd suddenly gotten, the feeling of immense guilt for making him more angry than he already was.
you're stuck staring down at the floor, your eyes feel hot and so full of tears as you gently whisper out the softest and heartfelt apology sukuna thinks he's ever heard in his fucked up life..
“...i’m so sorry.”
ryo's ready to yell something completely unnecessary and rude because he’s still riding the high of adrenaline from lifting too much and dealing with that asshole at the gym today. he’s still acting like he’s dealing with someone who’ll fight him tooth and nail, not his pretty little girl who's easier to rattle than a maraca.
your lashes flutter with wet tears and your pouty lip wobbles, you set the plate down carefully on the counter before your hands can shake too hard and it smashes on the floor.
and then you look up at him.
you look at him like you’re scared you'd messed up big time, like you’re scared you hurt him or made him upset in any way. like you’re scared he might walk away, abandon you. like all of this was your fault.
this is about where sukuna starts to feels like his heart had just been flipped over and fucked in the ass by a 6"3 rugby champ.
he didn’t even know it was humanly possible for his chest to sink into the pits of fiery hell that fast. like, physically, his heart plummets to his feet.
“sweetheart,” he says, but it’s too late. he can already see the tears filling up your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself tighter than before, so small and so nervous.
“i... i’m really sorry,” you whisper again, voice cracking in that heart stabbing kind of way. “i didn’t mean to make you mad, i was just trying trying to help, i thought you’d be hungry and.. i'm so sorry, it won't happen again."
your voice cuts off as you wipe at your cheeks, embarrassed at the tears that keep falling so freely down your flushed cheeks.
and then, before he can even take a step toward you to console, you beat him to it.
you walk right up to his big, stupid, irritated self and gently wrap your arms around his waist, like you’re apologizing to him even though you didn’t do anything wrong.
your cheek presses against his chest, soft and warm and trusting, yet still so small and scared..
all that rage and tension drains out so fast he actually gets lightheaded. he didn’t notice. god, he didn’t realise! he was yelling. at you. his pretty girl, his soft girl.
the only girl he’s ever dated who doesn’t treat every fucking conversation like a competition. the girl who holds his hand with two hands because his palm is so big. the girl who apologises when someone bumps into her. the girl who triple checks she's not burdening someone before she starts speaking. the girl who’d never raise her voice at him, even if he deserved it.
he was yelling at you.
you huff and puff in uneven spouts against his chest, softly like you’re giving him space to push you off if he wants to. you whisper again in a smaller voice than before.
“i’m sorry. i’m really sorry, ryo. i didn’t mean to ruin your day.”
his throat clamps shut.
he feels something sting horribly behind his eyes and he hates it, because he never cries. never. not for breakups, not for fights, not for injuries. but this? this is different. this is you. and realising he scared you or hurt you, even in some tiny emotional way, is making him physically ache with the pain of a thousand knifes stabbing his chest over and over and over..
“baby, no. no, no, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. i’m the one who’s being a fucking idiot. i shouldn’t have yelled. i shouldn’t have even raised my voice at you, baby.. shit.”
you can feel his biceps crushing you tighter. he’s huge and so warm, yet trembling in the tiniest way, like he’s holding himself together with the sheer willpower of not letting you see him too broken.
you sniff against his pec, trying to steady yourself, because you’ve never heard him sound like this before, so guilty and worried.
his voice cracks, cracks as he tries to spew out another line of consolement, and when you blink up at him, there are salty tears at the corners of his eyes. massive, scary, ryomen sukuna falling apart while hugging you, a soft and quiet little thing.
you just shake your head against him, heavy little sobs shaking your shoulders. “i’m sorry i messed up. i’m sorry you had a bad day and i made it worse.”
oh he’s the worst man alive. actually the worst. he can feel it in his bones.
“baby…” his voice cracks again and he hates it but he can’t stop it. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
you cling a little tighter, like you’re scared he’s gonna pull away. that alone almost makes him sob hysterically on the spot.
your voice comes out all wobbly. “i just… i don’t want you to be mad at me.”
fuuuck..
that’s the moment sukuna’s entire psyche caves in on itself and implodes indefinitely.
“god, y/n,” he whispers. “i’m so, so sorry.”
the apartment goes still and quiet for a good minute before you can whisper out, “it’s okay...”
“no,” he says immediately,“ no, it’s not. i shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. i shouldn’t have said any of that. i just… i had a shitty day and i was being a dick. that’s on me. you didn’t make anything worse.”
“but you seemed so upset…”
“oh my love, not at you.” he swallows “never at you, baby. i swear.”
...
your fingers contract into the back of his muscle shirt, holding on so gently it rips at his fragile soul, though, your tears have almost stopped.
he squeezes you harder, he’s not letting you go until he’s sure you're really okay.
“you’re… you’re really precious to me,” he whispers into your hair, the words tumbling out before he can stop them, way too honest for how he normally talks. “i don’t ever wanna scare you. i don’t ever wanna make you cry because of me.”
you move to peek up at him with those big watery eyes, and he absolutely breaks down for the fourth time that night. he feels the liquid in his own eyes and tries to blink it away, but nope. a tear slips down anyway.
your breath catches. “ryo…? d-did i make you upset?- i'm so sorry!”
he shakes his head quickly, gripping the back of your head as he tucks you back under his chin. “you didn't do anything, y/n. just don’t look at me right now,” he mutters. “just… let me hold you.”
you mumble a quick “okay.”
your gentle response calms him more than anything else ever has.
his arms slip under your thighs and your back in one careful swoop, lifting you off the floor like you weigh less than air, because to a colossal guy like kuna, you do.
you let out a noise of surprise and curl into his arms on instinct, holding onto his shirt as he carries you through the little apartment, the whole 9 yards of princess treatment.
“cmon angel,” he mumbles against your forehead in a sweet kiss, “let’s get you in bed.”
he pushes the bedroom door open with his foot and stands next to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress as gently as he possibly can. the second your back hits the sheets he reaches for the blanket and tucks it around you so fast and frantic you almost giggle. he’s acting like he's scared you’re gonna get cold or crumble into star dust if he doesn’t wrap you up right this second.
“stay here, sweetheart,” he says while brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “i’m gonna eat your dinner real quick and shower and then i’m coming right back. don’t move.”
you nod with your body engulfed under the blankets, and he gives you one last kiss on the cheek before heading back out.
it’s almost funny how different the apartment sounds now, he’s trying to be quiet. him. the guy built like a tank who normally stomps around like godzilla. you hear the plate clink, hear the microwave door shut, hear him crushing to himself like he’s scolding his own reflection, which he should be. then you hear the shower switch on, and everything is chaotic as if he’s racing against some imaginary clock because you’re alone in the bed for more than five minutes and that simply will not do for sukuna.
you hear the bathroom door whip open.
he’s back in seconds with his salmon hair damp and a white tank top thrown on crooked, water still beaded on his fair skin because he didn’t even bother drying properly. he climbs onto the bed quickly, grabbing you like he needs to feel you to be happy and content with his life.
your back hits his chest as he pulls you right onto his lap and you can just tell he's feeling possessive and territorial.
“hey baby.. are you okay?”
you nod softly, but he shushes you anyway.
“it’s alright,” he smiles, kissing the side of your neck. “you don’t gotta say anything. i got you.”
his hand rubs little circles over your hip bones with the other sliding up to hold your jaw with this gentle care no one would ever believe he’s capable of, ever. your tears dried a long while ago, but he still treats you like you’re a precious gem. he rocks you a little in his lap, soothing you like it’s instinct.
“you’re so beautiful, yknow that?” he whispers suddenly, voice hushed like he’s telling you a secret not meant for the rest of the world. “so damn beautiful and sweet and good. you’re… y/n, you’re so perfect.”
you feel your cheeks heat up and he smiles against your skin, just barely.
“i mean it,” he says again, burying his face into your shoulder. “you’re precious to me, baby. so precious i don’t even know what to do with myself sometimes.”
yeah, obviously.
you lean back into him a little more and your hands settle over his wrists. he squeezes you immediately like he’s scared he imagined the whole thing and he might be in some lucid dream still yelling at you.
his voice drops even lower, so soft you almost miss it.
“you’re it for me,” he murmurs. “you hear me? you’re it. i’m done with dating. i’m yours for the rest of my damn life.”
you blush deeply and hide your face in your hands at how bold he's being.
"ryo..."
“i’m never talking to you like that again,” he says quietly. “never yelling. never making you cry. i’m not losing you because i don’t know how to deal with my dumbass moods. you’re too important to me.”
your fingers slide over his hand, giving it the cutest squeeze and he just melts behind you. melts completely with his chest going all gooey and soft.
“you’re my girl,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “forever, or for as long as you’ll have me, baby."
he rocks you gently again, humming in his throat while his hands smooth and stroke over you like he’s memorising the shape of you.
he presses one last kiss to your cheek.
“sleep, angel,” he breathes. “i’m not going anywhere.”
sukuna was used to dating brats, the ones who threw tantrums and screamed like banshees in his face, but now he had you. and he knew in his heart that this whole time he was missing out on the pure bliss that was a calm and sweet relationship, with you.
never in his life had sukuna shed a tear over a girl, but tonight he did. he let a few slip because he couldn't handle the thought of making precious little you feel any sort of negative emotion, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. that how much you meant to sukuna, how soft you'd turned him.
and he was damn well never going back.
A/N i took a break from studying to write ts for you chat that's how much i ❤️ u guys 🥀
Some people insist on having the last word, no matter the nature of the argument.
Let them have the last word, but don't read it.
They'll feel good that they won (in their mind) and you don't need to see the madness they spat out in DM.
A lot of arguments were never really about winning, nor who was right. Sometimes people just want to fight because that's what they know. Their life feels like one long struggle and that no one has good intentions. Not good enough intentions, anyway.
I don't mind doing them a favor by letting them win an argument that was never an issue to begin with--they made it one.
That's gotta be a miserable existence. I hate that for them, but that's neither my business nor my problem.
Take care of each other out there, but take care of yourself, too.
Treat yourself to not reading someone else's "last word." Most parting words aren't worth reading.
Remember people for who they were to you, not how they want you to remember them. These are two very different things.
synopsis — you and rin are childhood friends, then became lovers, then became distant, then became strangers
word count — 1.4k
a/n — maybe i’ll make a part two, if people see’s this
Rin Itoshi had always been a quiet boy, but with y/n, he was different.
They had known each other since they were kids, growing up side by side in the same neighborhood. Their houses were only a few blocks apart, and it was rare to see one without the other.
While other boys their age were loud, rough, and reckless, Rin was always a little different, more reserved, more thoughtful. And with y/n, he was soft in ways he wasn’t with anyone else.
She was the only one he willingly shared his snacks with, the only one he’d slow his pace for when they walked home together, the only one who could make him laugh when he was in a bad mood. Rin didn’t talk much, but with y/n, silence was comfortable.
Even as kids, he would always wait for her after school, standing near the school gates with his hands stuffed into his pockets, kicking at small rocks while pretending he wasn’t looking for her.
The moment she appeared, he’d turn away, acting indifferent.
“You don’t have to wait for me every day, you know,” y/n had told him once, adjusting the straps of her backpack as they started their walk home.
Rin shrugged. “I know.”
She smiled, nudging him playfully. “Then why do you?”
He didn’t answer right away, staring at the sidewalk ahead. But after a moment, he muttered under his breath, “Dunno. Just do.”
She giggled, linking her arm with his. “Well, I like it. So thanks, Rin.”
He didn’t reply, but she noticed the slight curve of his lips.
y/n was his best friend. His safe place.
And she was always there, sitting by the sidelines as he and Sae played soccer.
From the moment she first saw them on the field, she was mesmerized. The way they moved, the way they worked together, it was something special. Even as kids, it was clear that Sae and Rin were different from the other boys
She watched every game, every practice, never missing a moment.
“You always watch us,” Rin once said, glancing at her while wiping sweat from his brow. His dark hair was sticking to his forehead, his breathing still heavy from running.
She grinned, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat on the grass. “Of course. You guys are cool.”
He blinked at her, lips parting slightly as if her words caught him off guard. Then, just as quickly, he looked away, cheeks slightly pink. “Tch. Whatever.”
But the next time he scored a goal, he turned his head just enough to see her reaction. And when she cheered for him, his heart did something strange.
Something he didn’t quite understand yet.
-
Years passed, and their bond never wavered. Then, at fourteen, something changed.
One late afternoon, they sat together in the park after one of Rin’s games. He had been acting strange all day, his fingers twitching, his jaw clenched like he was debating something.
“Rin, are you okay?” y/n asked, nudging his arm.
He exhaled sharply, staring at the ground. Then, with a deep breath, he finally spoke. “I don’t know how to say this properly, but… I like you, y/n.”
Silence.
y/n stared at him, processing his words. His ears were red, his hands gripping his shorts tightly, looking ready to run if she laughed at him.
A soft giggle left her lips. “You took long enough, Rin.”
His head snapped up. “Huh?”
She reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I like you too, dummy.”
Rin didn’t say anything, but his grip on her hand tightened, and for the first time that day, he let out a breath of relief.
From that moment on, everything felt even more perfect.
Rin wasn’t the most affectionate boyfriend, but he showed his love in quiet ways. He would walk her home, pull her close when it was cold, and let her steal his hoodie without complaint. He listened when she rambled about her day, even when he was exhausted from practice.
She was his person.
But then Sae left for Spain.
And Rin started to change.
At first, it wasn’t too bad. He was still Rin, just a little more distant, a little more tired.
“Sorry, practice ran late,” he would say, pressing a quick, fleeting kiss to her forehead before heading home.
It wasn’t like before, when he’d linger, when he’d walk her to her door just to spend a few more minutes with her. But she told herself it was fine. He was working hard, and she was proud of him.
He still loved her. Right?
But then Sae returned.
And something in Rin shattered.
The warmth he once carried, so subtle, so carefully reserved just for her, faded, replaced by something colder. Something distant. Something that made her feel like she was standing on the other side of a glass wall, reaching for someone who no longer saw her.
“Rin, is something wrong?” she asked one evening, watching as he stared blankly at his phone, fingers clenched tightly around it.
“No.” His response was short, clipped.
She hesitated, watching him closely. He wasn’t just tired, he was drowning in something she couldn’t reach.
“You can talk to me, you know?” she pressed gently, reaching for his hand.
For a second, he let her hold it. But he didn’t squeeze back.
“I’m fine, y/n.”
But he wasn’t. And she knew it.
She wanted to believe it was just a phase. That he was just stressed. That this wasn’t the beginning of the end.
But days turned into weeks, and their time together grew less and less.
Rin stopped waiting for her after school.
He stopped texting her goodnight.
He barely even looked at her the way he used to, the way that made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered.
She tried. She tried so damn hard.
“Do you want to hang out this weekend?” she asked one evening, trying to keep her voice casual.
“Can’t. Training.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater. “Okay… what about after?”
“Too tired.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, heart sinking deeper into her chest.
Her voice was quieter this time, fragile. “Rin… do you even want this anymore?”
For the first time in weeks, he looked at her.
And it was in that moment that she realized, she had already lost him.
Because he didn’t answer.
Because the Rin she loved, the Rin who loved her, was already gone.
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
A part of her wished he would fight, that he would tell her she was wrong, that he still wanted her.
But he didn’t.
And that silence told her everything.
The next day, she stopped waiting for him.
And Rin never came looking.
And that, more than anything, broke her heart.
-
A year passed.
y/n had done her best to move on, but when she saw the news, Blue Lock vs. Japan U-20 Team, she felt her heart clench.
Rin.
She hadn’t seen him since… since they fell apart.
Maybe this was closure.
So she bought a ticket. Not because she still held onto hope, but because she wanted to see him play one last time.
The stadium was massive, filled with roaring fans. She found her seat near the middle, eyes scanning the field until she saw him.
Rin Itoshi.
He looked different. Sharper. Colder. His hair was longer, his expression unreadable as he stood on the field, waiting for the whistle to blow.
The match started.
And y/n watched as Rin played like a man possessed.
His movements were precise, calculated, every step, every pass, every shot filled with a raw, unrelenting hunger.
But it was different from before.
There was no joy in the way he played. Only rage.
And then, he looked up.
For the briefest moment, his sharp teal eyes locked onto hers.
y/n felt her breath hitch.
There was something there. A flicker of recognition. A brief hesitation.
But then, just as quickly as he noticed her, he looked away, throwing himself back into the game as if nothing had happened.
y/n exhaled, her fingers gripping the fabric of her jeans.
This was it. The closure she needed.
By the time the final whistle blew, she had already made up her mind.
She stood up, taking one last look at him.
“Goodbye, Rin,” she whispered.
Then, she turned and walked away.
And on the field, Rin Itoshi searched for her again.
this is the picture the karasuno boys look fondly at when they’re all past their 30s past their 40s past their 50s and so on and they’re thinking of their youth and about that one person that really showed them that they could, in fact, fly.
osamu and you leave your daughter with her uncle atsumu for the weekend. chaos ensues.
___
“i woulda felt better leavin’ her with kita or aran.”
you let out a snort at your husband’s statement. “over your own brother? her blood relative?”
you and osamu were driving to a weekend getaway in the mountains. while the two of you were excited for a break and some quality time, there was no denying that there was some apprehension in the car.
it was the first time you’d be away from your baby daughter. as great as a vacation sounded, it would be a lie to say the two of you weren’t reluctant to go.
in order to ease your nerves, a suitable babysitter was chosen.
only osamu didn’t have a lot of faith in your choice.
“exactly, he’s ma brother, so ‘m the only one who understands just how much of ‘n idiot he truly is.”
“but you saw how happy he was to offer to watch her! atsumu loves being a uncle, he won’t half-ass taking care of her. besides, if he ends up needing help your mom is just a call away.”
“ma’s hostin’ her book club this saturday, she can’t just drop everythin’ if tsumu’s dumbass ends up needin’ help.”
you let out a sigh. “samu, just try and relax. i’m sure everything over on his end is fine.”
____
“COURT BABY! COURT BABY! COURT BABY!”
hinata and bokuto chanted as they watched your daughter crawl across the shiny floor of the msby practice gym.
having grown tired of the play mat and toys her uncle atsumu had laid out for her, the little one decided exploring her surroundings would be far more exciting.
“she’s crawlin’ earlier than most babies would,” atsumu chimed proudly. “must’ve got ma athlete genes.”
sakusa rolled his eyes from behind the fake blonde.
“she’s really going fast! let’s time her to see how quick she can move!” hinata suggested, fascinated by the little human on the ground.
“we’re supposed to be doing passing drills-“
“GREAT IDEA HINATA!” bokuto shouted.
“i give up,” the masked brunette said, moving to sit down on the bleachers since apparently no one was going to actually bother to follow instructions.
atsumu smirked while watching his teammates fawn over his niece. he knew it would be a good idea to just bring her to friday practice. the vibe for fridays was always a little more laid-back, and he knew having a cute little baby around would earn him brownie points with his excitable teammates. who didn’t love babies?
his brown eyes shifted over to sakusa momentarily, who was gazing at his niece with a look of disdain on his face.
okay, maybe he didn’t enjoy kids, but the rest of the team sure did!
“hey hey hey, baby miya! let’s see how quick you can crawl to your uncle tsum-tsum!”
atsumu grinned, moving to kneel on the ground so he can encourage his niece to move towards him. seeing the familiar face of her uncle- who shared a face with her father- had her happily babbling away as she pushed towards him.
“awe, she’s trying to talk!” hinata cooed, lip wobbling as he watched the precious exchange.
“alright, everyone,” a voice boomed. everyone turned to see a muscular figure with a head of spiky black hair enter the gymnasium.
“your coach asked me to come over to ensure you boys were actually practicing,” iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer stated. “i have some specific stamina exercises i want everyone to participate in. we’re gonna start by-“
movement in the lower peripheral of iwa’s vision caught his attention and the former ace found his gaze turning toward the floor.
“…why the hell is there a baby here?”
“don’t fuckin’ curse in front’a ma niece!”
“you just- nevermind,” iwa grunted, trying to be as patient as possible considering there was a literal infant present.
slotting his clipboard into the junction of his shoulder, the athletic trainer bent down to gently pick up your daughter. balancing her on his hip as if he’d done it a million times before, he turned back to the team.
“alright, jumping jacks and high knees, i want those heart rates getting up!”
before atsumu could open his mouth, iwa shot him a pointed look.
“i’ll hold your niece, miya, now get moving.”
the squeaking of shoes against the linoleum floor began to sound off. after ensuring everyone was properly following his instructions, he turned to the baby in his hold.
everyone knew iwaizumi was tough, but few knew how much of a complete softie he could be at times. giving your daughter a small smile, he lifted his hands to wave his fingers at her, to which she smiled back and tried to mimic his movements.
he let out a light laugh. “motor skills coming along there, i see-“
“iwaaaaa-chaaannnnn,” a voice sounded off from behind him.
iwaizumi froze. that voice, that stupid nickname, he knew it from anywhere. he began to turn his head to look behind him, gradually as if he was moving in slow-motion.
there was no way…
“guess who flew all the way from argentina to surprise you with his presence,” oikawa boasted as he stepped into the room. “that’s right, me-“
the seijoh grad fell silent as his chocolate colored eyes fell on the small human in his best friend’s hold.
oikawa blinked once. twice. three times. then-
“since when did you have a kid?”
“tooru, this isn’t-“
“how could you keep this from me?”
“will you please just-“
“a whole child? when?”
“shittykawa just shut up-“
“STOP CURSIN’ IN FRONT’A HER!”
“-and listen to me for a second!”
oikawa finally stopped his tirade, moving towards iwaizumi to study the baby in his arms. he bent down to be eye level with her, the both of them staring at each other curiously.
the brunette hummed to himself, reaching a finger out to poke your daughter’s cheek. “she doesn’t look like you.”
“wow, what an observation, it’s almost like she’s not my kid.”
“then who’s is she-“
“she’s my niece,” atsumu growled out, pushing oikawa away from the baby he was prodding at. he fixed the other man with a glare, well aware of who he was and what position he also played. the fact that this potential rival thought he could casually touch his flesh and blood had the fake blonde heated. “i’m takin’ care’a her for the weekend, which means i ain’t letting no lesser setter lay’a hand on her.”
“lesser setter?”
“oh boy,” iwa said, moving away from the two ego-fueled players. he could tell they were about to scuffle and he couldn’t let a baby be anywhere near that.
placing your little girl safely to the side, iwa crouched in front of her, sounds of “never saw ya at spring nationals” and “let’s see what your stats are, huh?” airing in the background.
“you stay right here, i’m gonna go get them to knock it off.”
standing a few meters away from all the chaos, sakusa watched as iwaizumi tried to wrench the two setters apart. sighing, he shifted his gaze to your daughter sitting unattended on the ground, babbling at nothing in particular.
sakusa grimaced. he really didn’t like babies. they were so…germy. and gross. but, he supposed the babies themselves couldn’t really help that fact. it wasn’t their fault they were so little and had such new immune systems.
a shadow then loomed over your daughter, bokuto and hinata standing over her. now that iwaizumi was too distracted to lead them in workouts, the two’s attention was back on the infant.
“i know!” bokuto exclaimed. “let’s do passing drills with baby miya! we can pass her back and forth to each other!”
“she’ll feel like she’s flying! like she’s a little crow!”
“or an owl!”
“you two will be doing absolutely no such thing with this child,” sakusa interjected, scooping your daughter up and going to sit down on the bench with her.
“but ki-“
“no.”
he wasn’t a fan of babies, but considering your daughter’s uncle was currently holding oikawa in a headlock, sakusa figured he could keep an eye on her for just a few minutes. it wouldn’t be too much longer before iwa finally decided he’d had enough and smacked the shit out of both of them.
hearing a little gurgle from below him, the brunette cast his eyes downwards. your daughter’s sight was transfixed on him, a smile coming onto her face when she saw she had the spiker’s attention.
from behind his mask, sakusa felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards.
tagging: @cosmxc-ars3hol3@pineflowrr @finchiedddd@horneboy@bluespring864@sabatinifortylove@bleedblood@ultrabooob@moonystoes@aussie-homosexual and whoever else xx
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