part two to ex!husband sukuna, reader dropping off child of divorce yuji to Sukuna for the weekend and Sukuna asking reader about that phone call....
read part one here!
you usually don't dread meeting up with sukuna to drop off yuji at his house but for some reason today it's taking a lot out of you to hold back on your nerves.
you've parked up on his street but your hands are still gripping the wheel, it's only until yuji calls out for you that you're snapped back into reality.
unbuckling, you exit out of the car and right on cue, Sukuna's front door opens to meet you guys out front. Yuji's always quick to say his goodbyes, a quick peck on the cheek and a wave to you before he rushes inside to play video games. Sukuna's more lax with yuji than you are so yuji knows that he'll have an easy and fun time at his dad's house.
as yuji disappears inside you're faced with the confrontation of sukuna standing in the doorway. it's clear that you're avoiding his eyes because of the impromptu phone call that yuji forced you to make a couple days ago.
"well, you know the drill. call me if you need anything." you say, already beginning your own goodbyes.
"hey, hey, we're not done here." sukuna stops you, he pulls his front door almost to a close so that the two of you have a little privacy. you're almost annoyed that despite your years of separation he's still able to call you back to him with a few words. his tone is enough to make you melt and it takes everything in you not to fold for him. "you wanna explain what that phone call was the other day? a little random no?"
seeing sukuna face to face makes you nervous all over again. his tanned skin that accompanies his tattoos, you can tell he's been busy working but he still manages to keep himself in shape. you try not to let your eyes linger over his body, just glancing here and there at his unfortunately handsome face.
"yuji made me do it." you admit, "it was meant to be a silly prank, it meant nothing."
"really?" sukuna raises a brow, evident that he doesn't believe you.
"yeah, well it was just to say goodnight. it wasn't serious."
sukuna hums and shuffles a little in the doorway. there's a silence that falls over the two of you and for a minute the two of your are unsure of what to say next.
the two of you interrupt each other at the exact same time.
"how's work-?" you begin.
"what are your plans-" Sukuna starts to ask but you both stop at the same time.
"you go first." you say.
"are you doing anything this weekend?" sukuna asks, his tone a little awkward, you've always known that this giant of a man couldn't handle small talk and it's humorous that he's attempting to right now. but there's also something that upsets you in the fact that after years of knowing him your current relationship now revolves around small talk.
"not much, maybe drinks with the girls for a catch up." you say, "what about you and yuji?"
"thinking about taking him to that baseball game this weekend."
"that sounds good. he'll love it." you comment and sukuna nods.
there's another pause that runs between the two of you and it's within that minute that you know this is your sign to leave. just when you're opening your mouth to finally say your goodbyes, sukuna intervenes again.
"you know...you can call me whenever you want and i'll pick up. whenever. i mean you know this."
you nod, your body is currently holding itself back on a physical reaction to his words. "i know."
sukuna nods, avoiding eye contact with you like he didn't just let you know that he'll be exclusively free just for you.
he's just being friendly right? this is the norm for co-parenting...right?
"i should get going." you say and you finally say your goodbyes. sukuna watches as you make it back to your car and his hands turn into fists as he physically stops himself from calling out to you to talk a little more or to remind you to text him when you make it back home safely.
but he has to remind himself that he lost access to those privileges years ago.
as soon as you make it back to the driver's seat relief hits you. your shoulders drop and you tell yourself that it wasn't that bad. you were probably overthinking it, sukuna knows you weren't serious about that phone call right?
on the drive back you can't help but have his rough voice stuck in your head. "you know...you can call me whenever you want and i'll pick up. whenever. i mean you know this."
was he actually serious about that or was he just being nice and sparing you the embarrassment of calling him the other night?
you're not sure what it is but you can't help but mull over his words for the rest of the night.
(i know you didn't ask to be tagged but i thought you might be interested in the part two!)
꒰ ׂ ﹒♡ trying to play roblox with your boyfriend ryomen sukuna who gets mad quickly:c ˘
c.w. sfw , fluff , jujustu kaisen , sukuna is a dummy , soft kuna(who curses a lot..)
♡⸝⸝ they’re playing the mimic btw ! i haven’t played that game in forever(it scares me) i hope it’s not inaccurate, i kinda wrote this from memory..😭 ALSO no hate to genshin i love that game<3 anyways..do i make a taglist for when i post lmk??
“motherfuking fuck! what the hell was that?!”
your boyfriend, sukuna yelled, causing you to flinch in surprise. he was leaning so far forward on the couch you worried for a second he’d slide right off. his knuckles were white around the controller as he glared at the TV.
how did this happen? well..to put it simple, you were bored out of your mind. nothing seemed to interest you expect the thought of playing games with your boyfriend. naturally, sukuna being who he was agreed while saying: “tch, always playing games that are so easy.”
unfortunately for him, those were his famous last words.
you pressed your lips together, trying not to burst out laughing at your boyfriend quite literally losing it over a roblox game.
“ryo, that’s the first monster..the creepy little girl with long hair? remember?”
sukuna’s eyes found yours. “creepy is a serious understatement,” he tells you, a cute frown finding his face. “that thing literally moves like it’s possessed. who the hell thought this was fun?? and stop laughing or god so help me i’m throwing you and this controller out the window.”
you grinned, scooting over closer to him and leaned your head against his broad shoulder. “you’re just mad she keeps jumpscaring you,” you teased, looking back at your phone. your avatar was carefully close to the wall while he sprinted ahead.
“by the way, we’re supposed to hide, not run.”
“i’m not hiding from a damn pixel,” he muttered, his body tensing as the eerie hum started echoing in the room. “shit–what the fuck? where do i go? babe!”
“the locker on the left, oh my god sukuna??”
sukuna fumbled with the controls in his sudden panic, doing the complete opposite of what you said as his character burst into the open hallway instead.
the monster’s distorted face suddenly popped up on the screen with a blood curdling screech.
“FUCK!”
sukuna slammed back against the couch with a groan. “it’s okay ryo..we can start over,”
you said sweetly, already hitting the option on your phone. “we’ll go again until you get it okay?”
sukuna shot you a glare. “this game is bullshit. and you? you enjoy watching me suffer too much.”
he says, reaching over to flick your forehead gently. “whatever let’s go again.”
you giggled as you both reload in the lobby. “you’re adorable ryo, the big bad sukuna is getting cooked by ghosts.”
sukuna made a face at your words. “firstly, never say that shit again. secondly, keep talking and see where it gets you.”
you rolled your eyes with a smile.
the next attempt went way better..for ten minutes. you did your best, guiding him through the corridors on your phone, telling him what to do until his competitive side flared up again.
“man fuck this, i’m going ahead. you stay back.” he said, already making his way ahead before you could stop him. “ryo wait don’t–“
you trailed off, shaking your head in disbelief as the ghost appeared in a flash, his avatar yanked foward as the death scene flashes on the TV. as expected of course.
“god damn it!” sukuna cursed, tossing the controller onto the cushion beside him, running a hand through his hair, completely frustrated.
“hey..at least you’re getting better?” you offered, patting his thigh with a wide grin on your face.
“you are actually enjoying this. fuck it, let’s go again–i’ll show you, no game is hard for me.”
once more…famous last words.
in less than a few minutes, he died once more. he lets out a long defeated groan pulling you into his lap. “fuck this stupid game,”
he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “annoying ass game. at least in dress to impress i always won.”
you scoffed at his words, exiting the game on your phone and tossing it aside to give him all your attention.
“you only won in dress to impress ‘cus i was nervous.”
“mmm..sure.”
sukuna nipped at your neck gently before placing a gentle kiss there. “are you less bored now baby?”
“no…” you pouted, sukuna raised his head to meet your eyes with a frown. “i will be more entertained if..my boyfriend would play genshin impact with me..”
sukuna’s face went from one of contentment to literal fear at your words.
“are you serious?”
“yep.”
“fuck me.”
“later, sure.” you smile at his words, placing a quick on his lips. “you’re the best babe let’s play!”
“yeah okay…”
to sum it up, as much as ryomen sukuna acted grumpy whenever you spoke about those silly games you liked, there’s not one thing he wouldn’t play for you–even if it’s a dumb game like genshin impact.
contains: sukuna x fem! reader. modern au/college setting. pregnancy cravings at three am. super unserious content. hints of chef kuna included.
note: got the idea from watching this video come up (and just had to do it as a tiramisu enthusiast) <3 can be read as a part of fbtdoty or as a stand alone.
you can’t sleep.
you have a midterm for organic chemistry at 10 in the morning, one you’ve spent making countless flashcards and memorizing for the past two weeks and you can’t sleep. all while your baby’s father snores like a damn tractor right next to your ear, blissfully unaware of your dilemma.
the past two hours have been a fruitless struggle of flopping around in bed like a fish, of pulling your blanket up only to end up yanking it off once you start to feel as if you’ve stepped foot into a scorching furnace, and of getting up to five hundred counting sheep before giving up completely. you flip onto your back, letting out a ragged sigh.
sukuna’s groggy voice cuts through the silence, “speak, woman. something wrong with you or the baby?”
“no, she’s just having cravings again,” you speak up, your stomach grumbling at the mere mention of something food related.
“baby’s still hungry after our dinner tonight?” pot calling the kettle black.
he could feel the glare you shot him in the dark, his throat bobbing underneath your deadly gaze. “i am growing a baby inside of me. what excuse do you have for stuffing your face of three plates of steak and dessert?”
fair point. he doesn’t push the topic any further (realizing he’d lose anyways), and instead decides to ask, “what’s the baby craving now?”
“a sandwich,” you’re already getting up from the bed as you speak, sliding onto your house slippers. sukuna doesn’t make an effort to move from the bed, you could make your own sandwich. at least, he wasn’t having to drive out to the grocery store for ice cream and a bag of hot chips at five in the morning.
sukuna came to realize it was not that simple when he stepped foot into your kitchen after you’d been gone for more than ten minutes.
he was expecting to find you sitting at the kitchen table with a cheese sandwich (or three), maybe with a few pickles you had left over from last week’s grocery trip in the mix.
instead, he gets welcomed by about five different plates cluttering up the kitchen counter and the rich scent of espresso being mixed in with egg yolks and milk. “…thought it was just a sandwich.”
you turn around to look at him mid-stir, letting out a quiet sigh at having to explain yourself to the man in front of you. “baby wanted a tiramisu french toast sandwich with a melted chocolate center.” one of the greediest cravings you’ve had as of yet, but one you were hellbent on completing though.
“thought you weren’t supposed to be drinkin’ coffee,” a yawn leaves his lips as he moves further into the kitchen. sukuna props himself against a counter, watching how easily you move around through the kitchen despite being slightly sleep-deprived.
“decaf tiramisu would be a crime against humanity,” you counter with a scoff at the mere idea, “a little bit of coffee won’t hurt.”
you expect sukuna to protest further, bracing yourself for any comment about how your ob-gyn wouldn’t approve or about the baby’s safety. but he doesn’t say anything, moving over to wash his hands at the sink. “you need help with anything?”
“you can start off by making the cream. mascarpone, eggs, heavy cream, and sugar’s on the counter. and just don’t get in my way, please,” you respond, going back to stirring the coffee with your yolk and vanilla extract mix.
“yes chef.” placing a bowl over a boiling plate of water, he cracks three eggs inside and pours in a decent amount of sugar for the base. upon satisfied with how your mixture was coming along, you dipped two pieces of french toast before setting them down on the griddle.
with a click, sukuna turns the stove off and moves the fluffy mixture off the boiling pot of water. now came adding the mascarpone and vanilla until his mixture was nice and smooth. you moved to stand by his side, grabbing the bowl of heavy cream to whip and speed up the process. “you’re doing a good job so far,” you murmur, looking over at his bowl.
“would have to be an idiot to mess up stirring.” that’s what you get for trying extend some sort of kindness to him. but he adds, “thanks.” you let out a quiet hum, the two of you working in silence. only the sound of your whisks hitting the metal bowl. but it feels nice, the two of you working in synchrony until it was time to fold the whipped cream into the mascarpone mix and flip the pieces of bread on the griddle.
sukuna works as if he’s defusing a bomb, fingers steady and careful as he moves about a third of the whipped cream to lower the density of the mascarpone. careful not to deflate the cream all the while. the last thing he wants is to end up with a soupy mixture and a disappointed look on your face. once it’s loosened enough, he adds in the rest of the mix before sweeping a plastic spatula to cut down the center of the mix.
a quiet breath of relief leaves his lips when he brings the mascarpone from the bottom of the bowl to the tom of the cream, managing to fold it over successfully. “thank you chef, it looks great.” your praise goes straight to his ego. he lingers behind you when you slowly begin transferring it over into a piping bag, monitoring that his hard work wasn’t all for naught.
now comes to actually assemble your creation.
mascarpone cream’s evenly applied onto both pieces of bread with cocoa powder sprinkled on top as your base for the chocolate and the biscuit cookies you opted for instead of ladyfingers. you dip four of them into your coffee mixture before placing them over the base, drizzling your melted chocolate over the surface. sukuna could only watch as you assembled your creation with the same precision a surgeon would have during a life or death operation. to top it all off, you crushed a few more biscuits before pouring it over the chocolate.
it looks nothing short of perfection when you finish.
the clock on your microwave reads 4:30 am, giving you approximately three hours to sleep before you begrudgingly had to get up for class. you plop down at the kitchen table, digging into your sandwich with a spoon. chocolate and coffee mix together with the cream in a mostly sweet, slightly bitter delicacy that has a quiet moan leaves your lips at the taste.
definitely worth missing out on a few hours of sleep.
sukuna, being the glutton that he is, takes the spoon from your hand to taste your sandwich himself. a sinful moan leaves him as soon as it hits his tastebuds, his tongue darting out to lick any residue off your spoon. he leaves it sparkling when he hands it back. “baby oughta open up a restaurant, benefit off your cravings.”
“trying to capitalize off our child already?” you raise a brow, scooping up as much as you could onto your spoon before bringing it up to your lips.
he only shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest. “kid’s gotta make back the money we’re gonna be spending on diapers. nothing’s free around here.”
you shake your head, licking away at the melted chocolate clinging onto your spoon. “and what would we call our baby’s restaurant?”
sukuna seems to consider his answer for a moment, fingers tapping against your kitchen table before he speaks up, “baby’s malevolent kitchen.”
a disbelieving laugh bubbles out of you before you can control it, “you seriously think people would step inside of that place?”
“name’s a work in progress,” he retorts, taking your spoon to steal another bite from your plate. “all we need is the baby’s creations anyway.”
the two of you spend the next half hour brainstorming names for your imaginary restaurant (“maybe baby’s five star diner” or “how about gluttonous sandwiches”), before ultimately calling it a night. sukuna took over one side of the sink and you the other to make the job that much quicker, a peaceful silence setting between the two of you. and though you’d probably regret it when your alarm clock blared at 8:00 am, you had the best sleep when you got back into bed.
a/n: if you can tell i don’t cook, my apologies 💔💔 but i hope you enjoyed the read <3 if you have any baby name suggestions/if there any drabbles you’d like to see, don’t hesitate to let me know okay bye
fbtdoty taglist (if you would just like to be tagged for the series please let me know): @true1411 @minadiary07 @fudogh @moonz33 @tsumoorin @0celotmilk @i034sworld @lovley212 @user2swag2care @palletaegoo @dreamydaredevil @cherrymuseum @amaiinoo @love-d-luxe @vvkitty @ambrosiarosesworld @satorustorm @minadiary07 @luvs-angel @nanamisangell @spookyeomgoose @tohru-tales @hannahgz8 @mruizsworld @iheartlinds @keiiiluv @jiyuspassion @shazzer29 @megxmixtm @chosoissohotugh @ejk31 @kingjuliancypher @exepelia-chan @whatsernamekei @domainofmarie @mccookiemonster @konigswifeyforlifey @gonergirll @seellove @vanillaacreams @stupidlyawesomegirl @gojover @iluvmywives
child of divorce yuji forcing you to call your ex!husband sukuna to say goodnight.
you had refused all week to give into yuji's plan that he had stolen from the internet. you were mature, healed and too busy to deal with these little dares. but it was up until one bored evening where you had finally succumbed to his challenge.
Your phone was on speaker, with the line ringing for the contact name of your ex-husband which was simply titled 'sukuna'.
no love hearts, no kisses or nicknames. you were completely over him and have been for years. the only reason you stay in touch with him is for Yuji's sake.
"I don't think he'll pick up yuj' " you murmured to him slightly. "your dad's been busy these past few days.'
and just like the old days, Sukuna always manages to prove you wrong -he always needed to embarrass you, even when he wasn't even here in the flesh.
"hello?" a coarse voice rings out on the other end of the line.
"hello." you respond and immediately you feel your stomach fall in knots. you're nervous. and you don't even know why.
looking up at yuji, his expectant face is watching eagerly as if he enjoys torturing you. he mouths "say it! say it!" and you feel like you have no choice but to continue with your dare.
you swallow down your nerves and attempt to speak as nonchalant as possible. "I just wanted to call and say goodnight."
There's a pause and there's something inside you that just knows how much he's smirking right now.
"Oh really?" he starts putting on a sultry tone, "you haven't done that in a while, is something wrong?"
you pull a face, willing your body to not fall for his tone of voice. no you won't fall like you did all those years ago. absolutely not. "No, I just wanted to say goodnight."
"do you need me to come over and tuck you in as well or....?"
"no! uhm, I mean no I'm fine but y'know I hope you have a good night."
yuji's meanwhile in the corner of the room clenching his stomach and trying his hardest not to let out a laugh.
"hmmm."
"what?"
"cut the crap."
"I'm not-" you start but sukuna manages to cut you off pretty quickly.
"listen, either tell me what you really want or don't bother wasting my time."
you pull a face, "me telling you good night is a waste of your time now?"
"yes."
"what are you even doing right now? it's 11pm and i know you don't have shit to do."
"don't turn this on me, baby, this is all about you."
"don't call me baby." you mutter.
"then don't call me to say good night."
you roll your eyes, you should have known that even the conversation of 'good night' would naturally turn into an argument between the two of you.
"is yuji good? you sure you don't need me to come over to help take care of a pre-teen?" he mocks.
"i don't" you bite, "i was just being kind and saying goodnight, i know how lonely it must get over there. are you sure you're doing alright?" your tone is filled with sarcasm, attempting to play sukuna at his favourite game.
"i dunno', " he starts, "i might need to come over to your bed so you can keep me company.'
you immediately hang up. you're done and finished. whilst yuji's laughing away in the corner all you can do is roll your eyes at the conversation.
but there's a little part.
a little part of you that you won't ever admit to yourself that misses him.
unbeknownst to you, on the other side there's still a smirk on sukuna's face as he sets the phone down, ruminating on the fact that there's also a part of him that misses you.
Not in a cold way. Not in the dramatic, wounded sort of way people sometimes imagined when someone said they preferred being alone. You loved people. You loved your friends, your family, quiet dinners, soft conversations, and the occasional evening out when you had enough time beforehand to mentally prepare for it.
You simply liked silence too.
You liked reading on one end of the couch without someone leaning over your shoulder to ask what page you were on. You liked cooking with music playing softly and no one crowding the counter. You liked sleeping with your legs stretched out, your pillow cool beneath your cheek, and at least a small strip of mattress where no one else’s elbow, knee, or entire body had invaded.
You were sweet.
You were affectionate.
You were also deeply, peacefully introverted.
Ryomen Sukuna had appeared to be the same way when you first met him.
He was quiet. Severe. Difficult to approach. The kind of man who could spend an entire party standing in a corner with a drink in one hand and a look on his face that discouraged strangers from speaking to him. He hated small talk, ignored group chats, and once left a birthday dinner without saying goodbye because, in his words, “I had already attended.”
Naturally, you assumed he understood personal space.
You were wrong.
Horribly wrong.
Sukuna understood personal space perfectly well.
He simply did not believe yours applied to him.
The change had happened almost immediately after you started dating. Before that, he had been restrained. Controlled. He would sit beside you without touching, walk you home with his hands in his pockets, and offer you his jacket with the stiff seriousness of a man performing a legal obligation.
Then you kissed him for the first time.
After that, Sukuna became a problem.
If you sat on the couch, he either pulled you onto his lap or stretched out with his head resting heavily across your thighs. If you tried to move, he opened one red eye and stared at you as though you had violated a binding contract.
“Where are you going?”
“To get water.”
“There’s water here.”
“That glass is yours.”
“You can have it.”
“I don’t want your water.”
“Why?”
“Because you drank out of it.”
His expression would darken. “You kiss me.”
“That is different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
He would stare at you for a moment, then tighten one arm around your waist before closing his eyes again.
“Sit down.”
“You’re bossy.”
“You’re moving too much.”
“You are literally lying on me.”
“Yes.”
That was always his answer.
Yes.
As though acknowledging the crime made it acceptable.
Cooking was worse.
Sukuna could have been in another room, occupied with something completely unrelated, and the moment you began chopping vegetables, he would appear behind you like an enormous, tattooed ghost. He would press against your back, wrap both arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder while you tried to use a knife safely.
“Sukuna,” you would say.
“What?”
“I’m cooking.”
“I can see that.”
“You are making it difficult.”
“I’m standing.”
“You’re hanging on me.”
“I’m barely touching you.”
His chest would be pressed against your entire back. His arms would be locked around your middle. His face would be buried against the side of your neck.
“Barely?”
“Yes.”
“You are six foot four.”
“Not my fault.”
“You are breathing in my ear.”
“That is generally how breathing works.”
You would turn your head just enough to glare at him.
He would kiss your cheek.
And somehow, inexplicably, that would become the end of the argument.
He followed you into the bathroom too.
Not every time. He had boundaries.
They were simply strange boundaries.
If you were doing your hair, he leaned in the doorway and watched.
If you were washing your face, he stood beside you and examined his own reflection like he had also suddenly developed a skincare routine.
If you were brushing your teeth, he brushed his teeth at the same time, even if he had already done it.
The first time you realized this, you had watched him reach for his toothbrush at nearly eleven at night.
“You already brushed your teeth.”
He froze with the toothpaste in hand.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“After dinner.”
“That was earlier.”
“It was an hour ago.”
He stared at you in the mirror.
You stared back, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.
Then he squeezed toothpaste onto the brush anyway.
“You’re going to damage your gums.”
“My gums are strong.”
“That does not mean—”
He started brushing.
You narrowed your eyes at him.
His mouth foamed slightly around the toothbrush as he smirked.
You had realized then that he was not brushing his teeth because he needed to.
He simply wanted to stand beside you.
That was the thing about Sukuna.
To everyone else, he appeared profoundly uninterested in human attachment.
He did not hug his friends. He barely answered messages. He had once stared at a coworker who tried to pat his shoulder until the poor man quietly apologized.
But with you, he needed constant contact.
His hand on your thigh beneath restaurant tables.
His fingers hooked through your belt loop while you stood in line.
His palm resting against the back of your neck while you watched television.
His leg pressed against yours in bed.
If there was a way for Sukuna to be touching you, he found it.
Sometimes he invented one.
You were convinced that half the things he claimed required help did not.
“Come here,” he would say from the bedroom.
You would walk in and find him standing in front of the mirror with a perfectly reachable zipper at the back of his jacket.
“What?”
“Help.”
“With what?”
“This.”
“You can reach that.”
“No.”
“Sukuna.”
“My shoulder hurts.”
“You went to the gym this morning.”
“Exactly.”
You would sigh and walk toward him anyway, and the moment your fingers touched the zipper, his hands would find your hips.
“You are such a liar.”
He would meet your gaze in the mirror.
“Yes.”
At night, his clinginess became nearly unbearable.
Sukuna did not cuddle politely.
He did not simply place an arm around your waist and remain on his side of the bed like a civilized man.
He consumed space.
Every night, he pulled you against him until there was no air left between your bodies. One arm went beneath your neck, the other wrapped around your waist, one leg wedged between yours. Sometimes he tucked your head under his chin. Sometimes he buried his face against your hair. Sometimes he draped himself over you so thoroughly you woke up convinced a building had collapsed.
You tried reasoning with him.
“Sukuna, we have a king-sized bed.”
“I know.”
“You are using three-quarters of it.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are on my side.”
“You’re on my side.”
“I went to sleep over there.”
“And now you’re here.”
“Because you dragged me.”
He would blink at you sleepily, hair messy, eyes half-open.
“You came willingly.”
“I was asleep.”
“Exactly.”
You had developed a system.
You let him cuddle you until he fell asleep. Then, once his breathing grew deep and his grip loosened, you carefully slipped from his arms and moved toward your side of the bed.
Most nights, it worked.
Sometimes, half-asleep, he followed.
You would wake up an hour later with him attached to you again, one arm locked around your waist like his body had detected the distance and corrected it without his permission.
It was ridiculous.
It was also, though you hated admitting it, a little adorable.
Sukuna, who looked like he would rather bite through glass than admit he needed anyone, slept best with his face buried against your neck.
Still, there were limits.
And that summer evening, with the heat hanging thick and unmoving around the house, you reached yours.
The air conditioner was working, technically, but it had been fighting a losing battle against the brutal temperature outside all day. The bedroom felt warm despite the fan turning overhead. The sheets were too heavy. Your skin felt sticky after your shower, and even the thin cotton sleep shirt you wore clung uncomfortably to your back.
You were exhausted.
You had spent the day running errands, answering messages, cleaning, and pretending the heat had not slowly drained your soul from your body.
By the time you climbed into bed, you wanted only darkness, cold air, and silence.
Sukuna came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, shirtless, wearing dark sleep pants low on his hips. He turned off the bathroom light and crossed the room, looking completely unaffected by the heat because the universe had favorites and apparently he was one of them.
He slid into bed behind you.
You felt the mattress dip.
Then his arm wrapped around your waist.
His chest pressed against your back.
One leg pushed between yours.
His face tucked against the nape of your neck.
You closed your eyes.
For approximately ten seconds, you tried to tolerate it.
Then his breath warmed your skin.
Your eye twitched.
“Sukuna.”
“Mhm?”
“You’re hot.”
His arm tightened.
“I know.”
You turned your head slightly. “Not like that.”
His mouth curved against your shoulder. “You should be more specific.”
“I mean your body temperature.”
“That sounds less flattering.”
“You are making me sweat.”
“You were already sweating.”
“You are making it worse.”
He gave a sleepy hum and pressed a kiss beneath your ear.
Normally, that would have softened you.
Tonight, it made you feel approximately twelve degrees warmer.
You shifted forward.
Sukuna followed.
You shifted again.
He followed again.
You stared into the darkness.
“Sukuna.”
“What?”
“You’re following me.”
“I’m lying down.”
“You moved.”
“You moved first.”
“Because you were on me.”
“I’m always on you.”
“Yes, that is the problem.”
He went quiet.
You felt a small, immediate stab of guilt, but you were too tired and too warm to soften the truth.
You turned carefully in his arms to face him.
His eyes were open now, faintly visible in the dim light.
You placed one hand against his chest.
“Baby,” you said gently, “can you please go to your side tonight?”
He stared at you.
Not angry.
Not offended.
Just still.
You continued, trying to keep your voice soft.
“I’m really hot, and I’m tired, and I need a little space to sleep.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Space.”
“Yes.”
“From me.”
You sighed. “Not emotionally.”
He watched you for another second.
Then, without a word, Sukuna released you.
He rolled away.
You exhaled in relief, stretching your legs beneath the sheet.
Finally.
Cool air touched the back of your neck. The mattress no longer felt like an oven filled with muscle.
You closed your eyes.
Then you heard movement.
The mattress shifted again.
A second later, it rose.
Your eyes opened.
You turned over.
Sukuna was standing beside the bed.
You blinked at him.
“What are you doing?”
“You wanted space.”
“I meant go to your side.”
“I am.”
“You are off the bed.”
He looked down at the floor.
Then back at you.
“This is my side now.”
You stared.
He stared back.
“Sukuna.”
“What?”
“You’re standing.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You requested distance.”
“I requested that you move twelve inches.”
“You did not specify.”
“I said your side.”
He gestured toward the empty strip of mattress he had abandoned.
“That is your side.”
“Then why are you on the floor?”
He folded his arms across his chest.
“You said you were hot.”
“I am.”
“You said I was the problem.”
“I said your body heat was the problem.”
“Same thing.”
“It is absolutely not the same thing.”
Sukuna looked away with the deeply wounded expression of a man who had been betrayed by the legal system.
You pushed yourself up onto one elbow.
“Come back to bed.”
“No.”
Your eyebrows rose.
“No?”
“You wanted space.”
“I have space.”
“Good.”
“Sukuna.”
He sat down on the floor beside the bed.
You stared at the top of his pink head.
This man.
This enormous, frightening, stubborn man.
He sat on the bedroom floor like an exiled dog.
You leaned over the edge of the mattress. “What are you doing now?”
“Sleeping.”
“On the floor?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to sleep on the floor because I asked you to roll over?”
He looked up at you.
“You said please.”
“That usually makes a request nicer.”
“It sounded serious.”
“It was serious because I was hot.”
“And now you’re not.”
You rubbed one hand over your face.
“Sukuna, there are other options between crushing me in your sleep and abandoning the bed entirely.”
He shrugged.
You could tell he was trying to appear indifferent.
He failed.
His shoulders were stiff. His mouth was set in a firm line. He looked offended, but beneath it was something almost embarrassingly soft.
He genuinely thought you did not want him near you.
The realization made your irritation fade.
Mostly.
“You’re being dramatic,” you said.
“You’re being controlling.”
“You were wrapped around me like a heated blanket.”
“You usually like it.”
“I do usually like it.”
His eyes flicked toward yours.
You softened your voice.
“I’m just tired tonight.”
He studied your face carefully.
Then he looked away again.
“Fine.”
He stayed on the floor.
You stared at him.
He stared at the wall.
The fan continued turning overhead.
Somewhere outside, a car passed.
You were about to reach down and physically drag him back onto the mattress when Sukuna suddenly leaned toward the nightstand.
You watched as he opened the bottom drawer.
“What are you doing?”
He ignored you.
His hand disappeared inside.
Then he pulled out a small bag of candy.
You blinked.
It was your favorite candy.
The kind you always forgot to buy for yourself. The kind he complained was too sweet while somehow keeping emergency bags hidden throughout the house.
Sukuna opened the bag.
The plastic crinkled loudly in the quiet room.
He took out one piece and held it up.
You stared at it.
He stared at you.
“What is that?” you asked.
“Candy.”
“I can see that.”
He extended his hand slightly.
You narrowed your eyes.
“Are you bribing me?”
“No.”
“You’re offering me candy immediately after I asked for space.”
“Yes.”
“That is a bribe.”
“It is a negotiation.”
You looked at the candy again.
Then at him.
His expression remained perfectly serious.
You took it.
His eyes watched as you unwrapped it and placed it in your mouth.
The sweetness bloomed across your tongue.
Sukuna waited exactly three seconds.
Then, in the calmest voice imaginable, he asked, “Can I cuddle now?”
Your heart broke.
Not dramatically.
Not painfully.
Just softly, all at once, under the weight of how ridiculous and sweet he was.
You stared at him on the floor, hair messy from lying down, candy bag in one hand, his entire intimidating body folded beside the mattress because you had asked for a little room.
He looked so serious.
So hopeful.
So stupidly cute.
You sighed.
“Oh, baby.”
His brows pulled together. “What?”
You reached down and grabbed his wrist.
“Come here.”
He stood immediately.
Too quickly.
You almost laughed.
Sukuna climbed back into bed, and before he could arrange himself around you again, you caught him by the shoulders and pulled him toward you.
He blinked in surprise as you wrapped both arms around his neck.
You hugged him tightly.
Not politely.
Not delicately.
You squeezed him until his cheek pressed against yours.
“There,” you murmured. “Happy?”
His arms came around your waist slowly.
“Yes.”
“You’re such a baby.”
“No.”
“You moved to the floor.”
“You asked for space.”
“You brought me candy to negotiate physical affection.”
“It worked.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
His face had gone smug again.
The softness had not disappeared, though. You could still see it beneath the smirk.
You lifted both hands and squeezed his cheeks.
His lips pushed forward.
His eyes narrowed immediately.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re so cute.”
His expression darkened.
“Stop.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You had emergency candy in the nightstand.”
“That was for me.”
“You hate that candy.”
“I tolerate it.”
“For me.”
“No.”
You squeezed his cheeks harder.
His mouth compressed between your palms.
“You’re adorable,” you said.
His muffled voice came out furious. “Take your hands off my face.”
“You’re my cute little clingy husband.”
“I will leave again.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I might.”
You released his cheeks.
He stared at you with deep offense, red eyes narrowed, face slightly pink where you had squeezed it.
You kissed one cheek.
Then the other.
His expression softened immediately despite his best efforts.
You smiled.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“My sweet baby.”
“I’m older than you.”
“By one year.”
“And larger.”
“Much larger.”
“Then stop calling me baby.” You kissed the tip of his nose.
“No.”
He glared.
You grinned.
Then his arms tightened suddenly, and he rolled you beneath him in one smooth movement. You gasped, laughing as he buried his face against your neck.
“Sukuna!”
“You wanted to cuddle.”
“I did not say suffocate me.”
“You hugged me first.”
“I felt bad.”
“That sounds like permission.”
“It is not.”
He settled more of his weight carefully over you, still holding himself up enough not to crush you.
You were warm again.
Too warm.
His chest was a furnace.
His breath tickled your neck.
But now you could feel the way he smiled against your skin, satisfied and peaceful, as though the universe had been restored to its proper order.
You sighed.
“Can we at least compromise?”
“No.”
“Sukuna.”
“What?”
“You can cuddle me, but no leg trap.”
His thigh was already wedged between yours.
He moved it reluctantly.
“And do not put your whole body on me.”
He shifted half an inch.
“More.”
Another inch.
“Sukuna.”
He rolled onto his side and pulled you against his chest.
It was still warm, but less suffocating.
You rested your cheek against him.
“Better?”
He grunted.
“That means yes.”
“It means I’m tolerating your rules.”
“You love my rules.”
“I hate rules.”
“You make rules for everything.”
“Mine are correct.”
You smiled into his chest.
His hand moved slowly along your back.
The room settled around you again. The fan whispered overhead. The candy bag remained open on the floor beside the bed, one piece missing, the evidence of his absurd little peace offering.
After a few quiet minutes, Sukuna spoke.
“Do I bother you?”
His voice was different.
Lower.
Careful.
You lifted your head.
“What?”
He did not look at you.
“When I follow you around.”
Your heart softened again.
You shifted higher, propping your chin against his chest.
“Sometimes.”
His eyes snapped toward yours.
You laughed quietly.
“Not in a bad way.”
“That is exactly what someone says before saying something bad.”
“I like that you want to be near me.”
He watched you closely.
“I also like being alone sometimes.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you stand behind me every time I cook?”
“You could burn yourself.”
“I have never burned myself.”
“You could.”
“Why do you follow me into the bathroom?”
“You take too long.”
“You brush your teeth twice just to stand next to me.”
“That is dental responsibility.”
You smiled.
He looked away.
You touched his cheek.
“Sukuna.”
“What?”
“You do not have to be touching me every second to know I love you.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“I know.”
“You’re saying that like you don’t know.”
“I know.”
You waited.
His fingers continued tracing slow lines along your back.
Finally, he sighed.
“You’re quiet.”
“I know.”
“You disappear into your own head.”
“I do.”
“And sometimes I can’t tell if you want me there.”
You stared at him.
Sukuna was not shy.
He was not insecure in the ordinary way. He walked through the world like it belonged to him and merely allowed other people to occupy portions of it.
But with you, beneath all the smugness and possessiveness and constant touching, there was something unexpectedly vulnerable.
He loved you so much that sometimes he did not know where to place it.
So he placed it everywhere.
Against your waist while you cooked.
Across your lap on the couch.
Beside you at the bathroom sink.
Wrapped around you in bed.
You leaned closer and kissed him gently.
“I always want you in my life,” you whispered. “I just do not always want you physically attached to my spine.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That sounds contradictory.”
“It is not.”
“It is.”
“You can sit beside me without sitting on me.”
“Why?”
“Because I am a person, not furniture.”
“You’re comfortable.”
You laughed softly and kissed him again.
He followed your mouth when you pulled away, stealing one more.
Then another.
“You’re impossible,” you murmured.
“You like me.”
“I love you.”
The smugness left his face.
It always did when you said it plainly.
His eyes softened, his hand moving up to cradle the back of your head.
“I love you too.”
You smiled.
“Even when I need space?”
He stared at you.
“Unfortunately.”
You pinched his side.
He caught your wrist.
“You’re aggressive.”
“You called loving me unfortunate.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I did.”
You settled back against his chest.
He adjusted the sheet over both of you and tucked you closer, but this time he left enough room for air to pass between your bodies.
Barely.
It was an improvement.
After another minute, you felt his breathing deepen.
His grip loosened.
You considered moving.
The old routine.
Wait until he slept, then carefully slip away.
You lifted your head slightly.
Sukuna’s eyes remained closed, his face peaceful in a way it rarely was during the day. One hand rested loosely at your waist. His hair fell over his forehead. His mouth, so often curled into a smirk or sharpened by irritation, had softened in sleep.
Cute.
Painfully cute.
You reached up and squeezed his cheek once more.
His eyes opened instantly.
“What?”
You smiled.
“Nothing.”
“You touched my face.”
“You’re cute.”
“Go to sleep.”
You kissed his cheek.
He closed his eyes again.
Then, without opening them, he tightened his arm around you.
“Don’t move.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I was.”
“You answered immediately.”
“Instinct.”
“Clingy instinct.”
He pulled you closer.
You laughed quietly.
The summer heat still pressed around the room. His body was still warm. You would probably wake up sweating at some point and regret every decision that had brought you here.
But for now, you tucked your face beneath his chin and wrapped one arm around his waist.
Sukuna hummed, satisfied.
“There,” he murmured sleepily. “Better.”
You smiled against his skin.
“For you.”
“For us.”
“Mostly you.”
He kissed the top of your head.
“You love me.”
“I do.”
“And I’m cute.”
You lifted your head.
His eyes remained shut, but the corner of his mouth had curved.
You narrowed your eyes.
“I thought you hated being called cute.”
“I do.”
“You just called yourself cute.”
“I said you said it.”
“That is not what happened.”
“Go to sleep.” You laughed softly and settled against him again.
A few minutes later, when you thought he had finally fallen asleep, his voice rumbled through his chest.
Firefighter!Sukuna who bust down your bathroom door when there was a fire in your building (one that you weren't aware of), clad in thick and hefty bunker gear, eyes scanning the brightly lit bathroom only to spot you in the middle of shower, completely bare, soap bubbles still coating your skin.
Firefighter!Sukuna who clears his throat, looking over his shoulder before turning back to you, cheeks dusted with a rather adorable shade of red.
"Th—there's apartment in next door fire." He stepped closer, hand gesturing for the bathrobe hanging beside the mirror.
"Huh?" Your brows are furrowed, trying to decipher who between you both was having a stroke, maybe the abrupt slam of the door did mess with you head.
The absurdity of the situation startles you enough that the thought of being completely naked before doesn't even cross your mind, at least not until he reached for the bathrobe himself, stepping closer to hand it to you.
Firefighter!Sukuna who acts instinctively, once you are modestly covered, yanks you over his shoulder to quickly move out into the smoke filled hallway, steps heavy against the wooden floor as he made his way out, making sure you didn't get knocked into the wall or door frames.
Firefighter!Sukuna who instantly jumps back into the building after making sure you are steady on your feets, looking over his shoulder once before continuing back inside, hoping he'd find you after the rescue is completed.
Firefighter!Sukuna who frowned when the medic informed that the people had scattered around some to the hospital for minor injuries other taking refuge with friends and family till the apartment complex was fixed.
Firefighter!Sukuna who mulls over the awkward interaction for days, rest of the team teasing him over his jumbled words, hoping to find a reason to go back to your apartment without seeming like a pervert or a creep.
Firefighter!Sukuna who groans loud when he is informed about the routine check up he must have to ensure health, begrudgingly walks into the hospital with rest of the team, brows furrowed as he waited for his name to be called.
"Ryomen Sukuna."
The lady at the desk announced his turn, gesturing towards the door with light glowing above the 'general physician's.
Sukuna sighed, stepping into the office only to be stopped in his tracks, before him stood you, much more clothed, stethoscope hung around your neck as you wrote on charts, eyes widening in recognition when thet met his.
Firefighter!Sukuna who awkwardly stepped into your office, almost tripping over nothing, nearly turning a routine check up into a life threatening emergency.
"You work here?" He asked, nearly slapping his own forehead, of course you do.
You nodded your head, lips pursed together as you placed the clipboard on the desk, patting the stretcher, "I'd hope so."
Firefighter!Sukuna who snorts at your sass, ugly little sound escaping the back of his throat, warmth blooming on his cheeks as you grinned back at him.
Firefighter!Sukuna who sits still while you noted his vitals, metal of the stethoscope cold against his warm skin, eyes following your movement, at one point he caught himself admiring your penmanship.
"You've got good handwriting." He mumbled, pointing to where you noted his pulse rate and blood pressure, "usually doc's have chicken scribble writing."
Firefighter!Sukuna who swears to keep his mouth shut when you continue to look at him in bewilderment, more than once did he catch you suppressing the urge to grin.
Firefighter!Sukuna who waits outside your office to get clearance, only to be handed a doctor's note instead.
"Come back for check up later, your heart rate was abnormally high."
Sukuna doesn't handle waking up in an empty bed in the middle of the night very well
Blinking awake into the dim blue-gray haze that fills the bedroom, Sukuna’s mind lingers in a heavy, half-dreaming state, and the first thing he notices is the empty stretch of mattress at his side. Fingers drift across the sheets, searching out of habit, only to find nothing but cold where warmth should be.
For a moment, he just lies there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake the fog of sleep that refuses to let go. Only when the red glow of the alarm clock finally catches his eye does he move, brow creasing as the numbers come into focus. 4:03.
It’s the weekend. Both of you had gone to bed together hours ago, so there’s absolutely no reason for you to be anywhere else.
Before the thought can even finish forming, his body jolts upright as adrenaline floods his veins, snapping him awake faster than his mind can catch up. The sharp thud of his heart feels almost ridiculous in the silence, but the apartment is so quiet that it only makes every instinct louder.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he pushes himself up, rakes a hand through his hair, and steps into the hallway, every muscle tense, ears straining for the faintest sound.
Nothing.
Moving down the hallway without hesitation, he checks the bathroom, even though the darkness behind the door already tells him you aren’t there.
The living room is empty, the couch looks exactly the same as earlier that night, with your blanket still tossed carelessly over the armrest where you left it. Maybe you slipped out onto the balcony, but the curtains hang motionless and the glass door is sealed tight. The pressure in his chest ratchets up another notch, and he moves through the flat faster now.
The last remnants of sleep are completely gone when each room confirms the same thing over and over again: you aren’t there. Each feeds the growing, irrational fear that something has happened while he slept, and by the time he reaches the kitchen, his breathing is shallow, his jaw clenches, and his hands ball into tight fists at his sides.
And then he stops.
The kitchen is bathed in dim light, just the gentle glow from the stove clock and a faint spill of streetlight through the window, enough to outline you standing barefoot by the counter. One hand holds a glass of water, the other strokes absently over Mikan’s back as the cat perches on a high chair, leaning into your touch and purring like nothing in the world could ever be wrong.
You look half-asleep yourself, hair a little messy, the hem of his shirt brushing your thighs, eyes soft and unfocused the way they get when you wake just enough to wander to the bathroom before crawling back to bed.
For a long moment, Sukuna stands frozen in the doorway, breath caught somewhere between relief and anger, adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. The sight of you, safe, slams into the fear he’s been carrying, heavy and real as anything.
Your head lifts when you notice him.
“What the hell are you doing?” The words come out sharper than he means, still edged with the panic that hasn’t left his body yet.
Confusion flickers across your face at his tone, and you blink at him, like you’ve only just remembered there’s a world beyond the counter and the purring cat pressed against your palm.
“Drinking water,” you answer quietly, your voice rough with sleep, lifting the glass slightly in explanation, like the answer should be obvious. Then, softer, as the reason for him standing there at four in the morning, staring at you like that, finally clicks, you add, “I didn’t want to wake you.”
Something in his chest finally gives, and the tension snaps all at once. Muttering a curse that barely makes it past his teeth, he walks over and catches your arm before you can get another word out, tugging you into him so abruptly that the water in your glass nearly spills over the rim. Only then does he let out a shaky breath he’s been holding since the moment he woke up.
His voice rumbles low and rough, words muffled by your hair as he pulls you tight against his chest. “You scared the shit outta me.”
His grip tightens for a heartbeat before easing. One hand slides up, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of your neck, while the other stays splayed warm and steady across your lower back. Caught off guard by the sudden intensity, you let your free hand find its way to his side, settling there gently.
“I’m sorry.” It slips out before you can stop it, even though you know you haven’t done anything wrong. Tilting your head back to meet his eyes, you find his stare heavy with something that makes it clear that he doesn’t want you apologizing for this, not ever. Nuzzling your cheek into his chest, you feel the frantic thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “I was only gone a minute,” you add softly, a little sheepish.
Sukuna huffs softly, and the short, weary sound carries more relief than frustration, but his arms stay locked around you, unyielding, as if letting go might let the fear slip back in.
“I know,” he mutters eventually, almost to himself, the edge of panic fading away. “I know that.”
For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The kitchen is quiet except for the slow, steady thud of Sukuna’s heartbeat finally calming beneath your cheek, and the impatient purring of Mikan weaving around your ankles, as if he’s been personally wronged by all this drama.
Then, he slips the glass from your hand and sets it on the counter, his other arm settling around your shoulders, steering you gently toward the bedroom, unwilling to let even an inch of distance creep in.
“Come on,” he murmurs, and you don’t argue.
Sleep tugs at you again, heavy and insistent, and as you sink back onto the mattress, your body leans instinctively toward his warmth. Sukuna wraps himself around you, pressing his chest firmly against your back and banding one arm tight across your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach. The other slips beneath your pillow, fingers searching until they find yours and tangle together.
Now that you’re back exactly where you should be, Sukuna lets out a slow, quiet exhale as the last traces of restless adrenaline finally drain from his chest.
♱ cw : fluff fluff . toddler yuji we love him . non sorcerer au . sukuna and reader are married , babysitting yuji , no use of y/n / use of nicknames + petnames . chef!sukuna mention . surprise at the end . super short lowk ... kinda seems lazy but i got lost at what i could include halfway , semi proofread ignore any mistakes
༝ wc : 1,084
1 . prepare the dough ,
''thank you for taking him off my hands for today.'' jin stands at the door, sheepishly tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers, glasses perched on the tip of his nose before adjusting them.
waving a hand, ''don't be silly, i was missing this little guy. plus, it was getting boring in this house myself, ryomen is still out at work.'' you shifted the small boy clinging onto your side like a tree monkey,
jin's hands switched at his side as his phone rung, swallowing hard. ''im sorry i couldn't stay a little longer, and im sorry if it looked like this is just a drop and run-- but I've got to go.''
you chuckled, yuji raising a chubby hand, ''bye bye!''
goodbye's were quickly shared before heading inside.
yuji immediately plopped himself on the couch once you let him down, already switching youtube on and watching whatever roblox? you think gameplay.
''what are you watching?'' you called out from the kitchen, preparing a snack plate for him.
he charged into the kitchen, shadow boxing as he spoke; ''roblox game! its jujutsu shenanigans! fighting game!''
jujutsu shenanigans? wow you felt old, what was that even? ''calm down, little boxer. the kitchen isn't a boxing ring,'' combing his spikey pink hair back, handing him a slightly worn, plastic spiderman plate with his favourite snacks.
watching him toddle back onto the plush couch, you sat yourself at the kitchen island, scrolling through your social media apps, until you spotted something that caught your attention.
you heard about mrs gojo's bakery before, top stars on every review. why not give it a try?
''yuji, want to help me bake some cookies for uncle kuna?'' ''yes yes yes!!''
tv turned low, yuji standing on a stepping stool as you read out the step by step instructions. everything needed already out Infront of you. ''okay, you washed your hands, right yuji?''
he froze, before nodding. ''yup.''
''go wash them or we don't start, that's important rules of the kitchen.'' met with a whine, he got off of the stool, pushed it over to the sink and washed his hands.
''okay, now we're ready! step one, prepare the dough. ' combine butter, sugar, honey, and salt in a large bowl. beat together until creamy. add eggs and vanilla, mixing until smooth. gradually add flour until just combined. chill the dough for 1-2 hours ' ''
guiding yuji's hands to drop the butter, sugar, honey and salt in the bowl, it was going easy. until he squirted all of the honey on the counter!
''m' sowwey, auntie!'' he pouted, clinging onto your leg.
sighing, collecting some kitchen towels and cleaning spray, you shushed him lightly. ''its okay, everyone makes mistakes, even the biggest of chefs and bakers.''
that seemed to do the trick, washing his now-sticky hands as you put the dough mixture into the fridge to chill.
2 . shape the cookies ,
'' 'scoop the dough into balls and flatten them slightly. bake at 375°F (190°C) for 9-10 minutes or until golden' .''
taking the dough after two hours out of the fridge, you took a spoonful and plopped it down onto a tray, spreading it out and doing the same thing over and over again. yuji was feeling a little sleepy so he dozed off onto the couch. which was fine because this was probably the most uninteresting part for a kid.
once they were all set, you took a small rolling pin from your kitchen drawer and flattened the cookies. some a little bit bigger than others but who cares.
sukuna wouldn't budge over cookies, biggie.
humming a advert tune that was stuck in your head to keep you busy, it was time to heat them up.
carefully cleaning out the oven, placing the tray inside and shutting the oven door, heating up the oven to what the step by step instructions say.
deciding to spend your 10 minutes catching up on your show, you wanted to text sukuna just to have a conversation with him... but it was a little hard since he would be going full gordon ramsey right about now.
honestly, if you ever worked for him even you would be scared. a cramped space, someone yelling orders, people crowding around the restaurant; eugh. not for you.
3 . cool and serve ,
'' 'cool and serve: let the cookies cool on the baking sheet for a few minutes before transferring to a wire rack. enjoy them warm or with a drink.
~ these steps will help you create delicious honey cookies that are soft, chewy, and perfect for any occasion. for more detailed instructions and variations, refer to the provided recipes', other than that, enjoy! . ''
getting caught up with calling your friends, forgetting about the cookies... some of them were a little burnt at the edges.
so to try cover up this sneakily, you started to make some frosting to decorate! plus some sprinkles from the last time yuji wanted to bake cupcakes.
laying them out to perfect your handwriting with the piping, designing some plain ones at the side, it was finished!
waking a sleepy yuji up, ''mmhhh, auntieee!'' he squealed, attaching himself to you. ''are the cookies finish?''
''mhm, i decorated them too, you were still napping and i had a little plan...'' ''wat is it?''
once sukuna got home, he kicked off his shoes, hung his jacket on the wrack and tossed his keys in the bowl next to a fern plant. ''m' home.'' his familiar voice rung out the hallway,
''uncle kunaaaa!'' yuji's fast feet ran out to his uncle, throwing himself as sukuna caught him, raising a brow.
hiking him up against his chest comfortably, -''when did you get here, y' brat?'' roughly ruffling the little boy's hair with rough hands, making him giggle and pat at his shoulder.
''auntie bake cookies,'' his grabby hands tugged at sukuna's chef uniform, now he was intrigued.
''she did?'' lowering yuji as he sprinted back into the dimly lit kitchen, he stretched and cracked his bones before heading in after him. ''babe, what did'ya make?--''
''surprise!'' ''SUPRIS!''
sukuna's whole body froze, his eyes widening as he read the message and saw what yuji was holding.
''you're going to be a daddy!'' combined with a small gift box and a positive pregnancy stick inside.
you're pregnant.
a/n :: this is so poop but ignore how it is ;-; plus i got these instructions from google so you could probably make some of these if ya like honey
cw: mentions of alcohol, drunk sukuna, slight angst with fluff. (this will have part two)
two years and five months, that's how long you and sukuna lasted. you two were doing great until he decided to break up with you to focus more on the "frat".
of couse you were mad, he chose that damn frat instead of you. sure you loved him, but his actions turned you off instantly.
you were sleeping peacefully, all snuggled up in between your plushies when suddenly your phone suddenly rang.
you groaned, who even calls someone at 2 o’clock in the morning?
unable to get up, you snatched your phone from the table it was laying on beside your bed.
your eyes were still groggy, eyes still sleepy then hit call without reading the contact name.
"who.. who is it.." you asked, then let out a yawn.
you heard a hiccup, then heard that voice. the voice that you always heard everyday, you instantly jolted up awake.
"baby... ah.. you awake..?"
it's sukuna.
"what the fuck are you doing calling me late at that?" you snarled, gripping your phone tight.
you then heard a sob, was he.. crying?
"missed you.. hiccup... come.. back.."
he was definitely drunk, but you couldn't figure out if he was actually telling the truth. sukuna only drinks when he's feeling emotional,
"mmh.. open your door by five,"
"w-wait-"
he hung up on you, shit.
you stood up from your bed, pacing around your room like it was some kind of emergency. well, technically it is. but that doesn't change the fact the man who broke your heart is gonna be at your door any second!
you then stopped when you heard a knock on the door, you hesitated at first but then walked towards the door.
caught by the sight of the one and only, ryomen sukuna.
you were about to say something but he hugged you tighter than any hug you guys did, he really did miss you.
"fuck.. baby.. really missed you." he murmured, as he buried his head on your neck.
you quickly folded, this was the man that you love loved. you guys broke up just a month ago, of course you still hadn't moved on.
you then guided him to your bed, his big arms cuddling you with care. his eyes droopy, shutting as he buried himself closer to you.
you then smiled, burying yourself in his chest, putting the blanket on top of you both,
first day, first lecture, actually. he stepped in late, and the only empty seat left was beside you. you both stared at the professor in pure, utterly confused silence, question marks probably floating on top of your heads as you tried to gather anything. after five minutes, you simply turned and asked him to let you pass so you could leave.
he grabbed his stuff, joining you. he asked if you wanted to grab coffee, and that’s how it all started.
three years later, you were the untouchable sukuna ryomen’s girlfriend. your relationship was private, no one knew any details (it wasn’t like anyone would dare to ask sukuna, especially with the way his resting face was a terrifying glare to everyone else) and you two preferred it that way.
no one knew the details. no one knew how sukuna was deeply and utterly smitten— the scowling, terrifying, muscular 6’4 man turning immediately into lovesick puppy for you. clingy, needy, obsessed, your guard dog of a boyfriend never ever let you doubt his love. he always made it clear, whether it was his arm’s wrapped around you every chance he got, or him spamming your phone whenever you weren’t around, using any excuse to talk to you, or the way he dropped everything for you, making it clear you were his first priority, or the way he listened intensely to every word that left your mouth and noticed everything about you— which showed when he referenced your words from months ago, or bought you gifts you didn’t even mention, or could tell you weren’t okay from a single glance.
it really was not a lie that sukuna ryomen loved you. he knew it. you knew it. his frat knew it. everyone that really knew sukuna knew he loved you.
which was why the break up broke you.
that night didn’t even seem real. he had ignored you for a total of three days, replying to your texts dryly, which was already odd. then, he showed to to your place in the middle of the night, jaw clenched, eye bags dark, like he hasn’t slept in days. he didn’t elaborate, didn’t explain— simply told you he was tired, that he couldn’t do this anymore, and walked away.
like he didn’t just ruin you. like you two weren’t discussing your shared future a few days ago. like you two hadn’t already agreed what stupid fucking roses you wanted at your wedding. like he hasn’t kissed you so softly just a few days ago, murmuring soft pleads for you to never leave him.
to make it worse, he didn’t disappear after. he attended your shared lectures as usual— sitting behind you, always behind you, like he needed to keep you in his vision. he left your notifications on, which you knew because he remained the first to view every story until you blocked him. he kept going to your favorite cafe beside campus (he didn’t even like their coffee) at the exact same time you always did, his sad eyes set on you, buying a single water bottle each time, until you stopped going. you even had to stop going to the library late at night, because he would always be there, blank notebooks open as he pathetically pretended to focus when his eyes wouldn’t leave you alone. even late at night, when you would scroll through your chats, you would see his bubble. tying. erasing. there.
it was worse, because it was obvious that he still loved you.
it made you want to scream, really. it would have been better if he just… pretended you didn’t exist. ignored you. blocked you first. flirted with girls in your vision. did anything to make you feel like he didn’t care anymore. like he didn’t give a fuck, so you could move on. so you wouldn’t get the stupid urge to show up to his place and ask him what the fuck his issue was. so you could hate him.
but again, unfortunately for you, sukuna was never good at hiding his love for you.
it was going to be okay, though. because sukuna already broke it up, and moving on was clearly the only good solution. it wasn’t like he will ever come back, anywa—
bzzz.
dilf420: bro. ur fucking bf is sulking and ruining my party. can you come pick his drunk ass up. ill pay u.
you blinked once at the notification, then twice, then immediately opened it. you really should have blocked the whole frat.
you: broke up. no longer my bf. also, ur broke.
toji replied immediately.
dilf420: idc that u two broke up he’s drunk and blabbering about missing his fucking wife come pick his ass up
you stared at the dm blankly, eyes staring at the words like it would disappear if you blinked.
his fucking wife.
your throat felt dry. heart physically hurting, like someone’s fingers were digging into the muscle and squeezing it the way sukuna used to squeeze your fingers before kissing each knuckle. it hurt, so much, your vision slowly blurring the longer you stared at the three words.
on the other side of the phone, sukuna was pressed against toji, shoving his face into the cracked screen, face flushed from the alcohol, lips almost pouting, hair messy from running his hands through it so many times. “is she answerin’?” he muttered, voice slurred. “my pretty wife, is she comin’?”
toji sighed. “nah, man. she left me on read. you’re so fucked.”
sukuna groaned, stumbling slightly before he was leaning on the wall, eyes shut in pure devastation. “she hates me. what if she doesn’t wanna get back?”
“…you showed up at three in the morning and broke up with her without giving her a reason, bro. on gojo’s soul, she does not want to get back.”
it was silent for a few seconds before a quiet sniffle echoed in the room, and toji’s head snapped to the untouchable, scary figure sliding down the wall, face buried into his hands, shoulders trembling. toji’s eyes widened briefly, but sukuna grunted, the sound shaky. “not a fucking word.”
the next monday, you were still recovering from toji’s dm as you slid into your morning, 8:30 am lecture. you were half-asleep, buried in sweatpants and a hoodie, hood up in an attempt to hide from the world. your eyes were drooping sleepily, head slowly slipping from where your head rested on your palm, the tip of your pen slowly seeping ink into the paper.
someone slides beside you, and you freeze. you knew that cologne. you bought that cologne.
you didn’t move a muscle, shoulders tense, eyes suddenly focused as they stared ahead. you could feel his gaze, his thigh pressing against yours in the annoyingly small seats. you could feel the heat from his skin, even from the thick fabric of your sweatpants.
…what the fuck was he doing?
your jaw clenched, before you took a quiet deep breath, convincing yourself he must have not looked properly when picking a seat. it takes a few minutes, but you’re finally able to focus back on your professor again, ignoring the way you could feel his gaze shifting to you ever few seconds.
“…i’m sorry.”
you sucked in a sharp, annoyed breath, gaze still ahead, fingers tightening around the pen in your grasp, eyes unamused. he slowly placed a cup on your desk— your favorite coffee, from your favorite cafe. you froze, and you could see him wincing from your peripheral vision.
“…give me a chance explain, please?”
you carefully pushed yourself up, grabbing your bag and notebook, and silently stepped out of the hall. outside, toji was standing, a sigh on his lips as he caught up with you despite how you only spared him an annoyed glare.
“he loves you, you know that.” toji murmured. “give him a chance to explain.”
“no.” you muttered. “he’s a coward who left me without an explanation. now he wants to give me one?”
toji grimaced. “that wasn’t his brightest moments, but… come on, he’s your sukuna.”
“he made it clear he’s not.”
that night, you were dragged to one of their parties, curtesy of gojo begging you to show with tears and snot running down his face, using a lame excuse about how everyone in the frat misses you. you didn’t buy it, but you had to stop the embarrassingly loud bawling boy on your doorstep.
now, you sat in their kitchen, perched on the counter, an overly sweet drink between your fingers, and a staring ex-boyfriend on the other side.
sukuna was sulking.
eyes set on you, lips pursed, arms crossed— he ignored everyone who stared at him just so he could keep his eyes on you. geto and nanami sighed as they passed, geto offering him a bottle casually, and sukuna grabbed it, eyes still on you before he tilted his head back and drowned half the bottle down, only stopping when nanami pulled it back while snapping about expensive liquor.
the thing about sukuna? he was a lightweight, and an emotional drunk. that usually manifested in a shorter temper when he wasn’t with you, and him being unbelievably clingy with you, and now, a few hours after gulping random drinks down?
it manifested in him dragging himself to stand in front of you, lips wobbling and eyes tearful, looking like a kicked puppy instead of the frat bro everyone was terrified off. “baby…”
you hated how your own heart clenched, fingers digging into your palm to prevent yourself from cooing at him and tugging him into your hold safely. you only narrowed your eyes at him, and his eyes glossed even more. he opened his mouth, probably to beg, only to halt dangerously.
you, unfortunately, knew him too well. you let out a loud groan, quickly jumping off and dragging him to an empty bathroom upstairs, shutting the door just in time for him to drop to his knees and empty his stomach out into the toilet. he let out a choked sob between retches, and you sighed, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a hand slowly rubbing his back. “dumbass.”
“i miss you so much,” he immediately whimpered, eyes shut painfully. “i miss you so, so, much. please, angel, forgive me, please— i want you back, i need you back, ‘m a stupid son of a bitch for every breaking it off, i need you in my life, please—“
he was interrupted with another gag, and you sighed, resuming to rub his back as he continued, your own vision blurry, heart shattering at the broken sob he let out once he was done.
“breathe.” you murmured softly. “come on, kuna, breathe for me. you can do that, yeah?”
“no,” he choked out. “i can’t— can’t even breathe without you, baby. please, please, forgive me for being a dumb idiot, i need my wife back, please—“
“if you breathe now, and we can talk tomorrow.”
it was almost humorous how he immediately straightened up, red, watery eyes wide, nose red and cheeks flushed from the alcohol. you sighed, reaching over to wipe his tears away, and he let out a pathetic whine, immediately leaning into your touch. you finally helped him up, forcing him to brush his teeth before you opened the door, quietly leading him into his room.
inside, he immediately flopped into bed, tired, sad eyes staring up at you. “you’ll… talk to me, right? please, baby?”
“tomorrow,” you murmured, throwing him a pair of shorts. “just sleep now, okay?”
he nodded frantically, eyes shutting quickly, obediently.
no one would believe this was the version of sukuna ryomen you knew— now when everyone else got the loud, short-tempered, rude, asshole version of him. you stared at him softly, watching his breathe even out, eyes fluttering shut, before you sighed softly, and stepped out of his room.
the next morning, you woke up to sukuna in front of your door, hair messy and eyes exhausted, yet holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers and your favorite coffee, the other messily trying to adjust his shirt to look more presentable. the second you opened your door, eyes sleepy and hair messily, lips pulled into a frown, he froze.
red eyes widened softly before his body relaxed, eyes softening, and breathed out slowly. “…hi.”
you reluctantly opened the door wider, letting him in. he stepped in, 6’4 solid figure suddenly seeming small, gently setting the items down, hands that are used to throwing punches leaning down to carefully adjust a delicate petal before he straightened up, eyes falling back on you, so full of unsaid emotions that they were already glossing over.
after a few seconds, he swallowed harshly, throat bobbing before he took a step closer. “i missed you.”
you frowned, eyes narrowing. “why did you break up, sukuna?”
“please,” he choked out the second the name escaped your lips, eyes wide in pure devastation. “please, angel. ryo, kuna, baby, pretty boy— anything but that.”
your frown deepened. he let out a defeated, shaky breath, and stepped even closer. “i broke it because i was a fucking idiot. i… i never loved someone so much, angel, i never cared about someone so much. you made me the happiest person alive, and… i knew you deserved better.”
you froze. he sniffled, taking another step closer, eyes desperately and voice breaking. “angel, i… i’m a selfish, possessive asshole, and you deserve someone perfect. i was so scared that you’ll wake up one day and end it, so i… just did.”
your vision clouded with tears, and he dropped to his knees, eyes wet with unshed tears. “i was a stupid, fucking idiot. i should have stayed, talked to you, got the reassurance i know my angel would give me, but i didn’t want to be selfish… i thought i was doing what’s best for you…”
he let his head drop, face falling to press against your abdomen, a loud, pained whimper escaping him. “turns out i was a fucking idiot for ever considering letting you go. i… i have been miserable, angel, bawled my fucking eyes out an embarrassing amount of times. i miss you so much, baby, i can’t— i can’t live with you. i can’t sleep, eat, breathe,” he gasped, hands trembling as they slowly reached to hold into your waist, and let out a louder sob once his fingers touched your body, tears soaking your shirt. “i need you in my life, angel. please, i can’t live without you. my heart only exists to beat for you. i was a fucking moron to ever think about letting you go. you deserve so much better— and i promise, ‘ll be better. i’ll be a better boyfriend, a better partner, a better everything— just, give me a chance,”
you sniffled. the second you did, his head snapped up, eyes wide and tearful and horrified, and he immediately shot to his feet, ignoring his own soaked face as gentle fingers slowly cupped your cheek, wiping your tears away. “please don’t cry, i can’t handle you being upset, please—“
“you idiot.” you finally whispered. he froze, eyes wide and pained, and you only stepped closer, letting your head drop into his chest. his arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you until no space existed between you both. “are you stupid?”
“i am. i’m sorry, baby,” he whispered back. “i’m so sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m—“
“shut up.” you croaked out. “you’re an idiot. i love you as you are, you asshole.”
“i know, baby. i’m sorry.” he buried his face into your neck, his tears damping your shirt once more. “i’m never leaving you again, angel. not even physically— i’ll be so clingy you’ll get sick of me. i can’t live without you, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”
you let him hold you, eyes shut tiredly. “…idiot.”
he let out a sharp laugh, holding you even tighter, pressing wet kisses all over your face until a smile broke on your pretty lips, and you could physically feel him finally breathing normally, still pressing kisses to your face, gentle and needy and desperate. “i know, angel. only an idiot would ever walk away from you. never, ever again. i love you. never, ever again. i’ll marry you, my love. never leaving you again.”
a/n i hate tumblr i had to write this three times </3 anyways hi ^^ still obsessed w these headers…
you almost want to get on your knees and beg that a day out with your family would go normally.
that you wouldn’t be stuck in your current predicament.
with furrowed brows you look to the left, at your husband.
gosh..
he’s in a worser state than you.
you’ve never seen sukuna like this, his serious expression a stark contrast against the lively joy of the amusement park. with his clenched jaw and eyes darting every which way.
in search.
sukuna’s eyes narrow when you touch him on the shoulder.
“i’m sure he’s somewhere here..” you’re not sure whether you’re reassuring yourself or him, “we’ll find him”
your son, 6 year old baby!yuji is lost.
you rack through your memories, replaying every single moment from you entering to park to the last time you saw him.
the food stalls.
you grip sukuna’s arm harsher than needed, albeit it does not hurt him, and march towards the stalls.
sukuna starts asking the vendors for a kid with a similar hair color to him. they all shake their heads mumbling excuses.
“nonsense” sukuna mutters to himself, “everyone here is a fool”
“not more than us” you sigh gripping your chest in an attempt to slow down the incoming panic coursing through your veins.
“listen” sukuna suggests, “we should split up”
“bad idea, better we stick together unless we start going in circles” you breathe hard, gasping out the last few words, worst case scenarios flashing through your mind.
sukuna grabs you by both your arms, you shake your head in protest and he grips you harder, not bruising just firm.
“listen to me” he speaks and you nod, “we’ll find him okay? and damn the heavens if i leave this place without my son”
you lick your lips, “yeah let’s..um call me, text, whatever just..”
the world seems to move in a blur.
you’d been so happy, all of you, yuji insisted on coming here and you obliged ofcourse, you’d do anything for your son. yuji’s laughter on the rides, sukuna carrying yuji on his shoulders, yuji’s cotton candy stuffed cheeks.
you inhale shakily.
“i will,” sukuna calls out starting to walk away.
you turn around in haste, praying, praying, praying.
please let my baby be safe.
until—
“may we have your attention, please.”
your pulse jumps in your throat.
“the parent or guardian of a young boy waiting with our lost and found team is requested to proceed to the main entrance.”
you turn around searching for sukuna to find his eyes already on you.
“again, the parent or guardian of a young boy waiting with our lost and found team, please make your way to the main entrance. thank you.”
before your mind could catch up, you’re running. with sukuna only a step behind you, you both make for the main entrance.
closing up to it you spot him instantly, and you stop in your tracks.
sukuna walks ahead, speaking to the security guard who just laughs while saying something, but you’re too busy to notice. your eyes are frantic you scan your son head to toe.
he’s fine, he’s okay.
the rope of panic that had tightened around your chest loosens. you watch from a distance as yuji bounces on his feet, asking sukuna to pick him up while your husband rubs his neck, thanking the security guard for keeping your son safe.
and then yuji’s eyes flick over to yours.
“mama!!” he comes running.
you hadn’t realized how much that sound had meant to you, not until you’d been faced with the possibility of losing it.
you bend down scooping baby!yuji up into your arms and peppering his face with kisses, while he squeals and giggles.
opening up his hand, yuji proudly shows you a fidget spinner as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t been lost “gun man gave me a gift!”
children were so clueless.
and you were too elated to speak, this just the act of holding your son, having him in your arms again meant everything.
“did you say thankyou, to the security guard?”
“duh” he droned, already looking around for some mischief to get up to.
you felt sukuna’s arms close around the both of you pulling you into a hug. he kissed the side of your head for a moment too long and you understood.
this had been just as frightening for sukuna.
though he’d never admit it.
but you knew, just from the way he slightly rubbed your shoulder and listened to yuji’s rambles attentively.
“he’s smart” his voice came out rough,
you leaned your head back against his chest, raising a brow in question.
“found the security guard himself, told him that he couldn’t find his mama and papa” he chuckled slightly, “brat didn’t even cry one bit”
you buried your nose in yuji’s hair and sighed contentedly.
“and here i was losing my mind” you murmured.
sukuna shrugged, “…and here we were”
yuji crawled out of your grip onto sukuna’s shoulders, cheerfully pointing around,
“can we go on that next?”
firefly; i’ve had this idea for so long, i just figured out how to execute it ❀ུ͏
the atmosphere was calm, well as calm as it could be with sukuna there.
you sat curled up in his lap while he yelled at toji through his headset for the nth time. you shifted slightly before slowly sliding out of sukuna's lap, he muttered a quick
“where ya goin?” his eyes shifted towards you, now fully out of his grasp.
“bathroom.”
he let out a low hum and returned his hard gaze back to his monitor.
-
“holy shit ryomen, yer washed.” toji snickered through the mic.
“easy to talk when you pick OKC every fucking round.” sukuna snarled back.
“aye back to back dubs speaks for itself.”
“its been two rounds already?” sukuna checked his phone, its been almost 2 hours since you left his lap.
“two rounds of belt? yea bro.” a snort came out from sukunas headphones.
“im hoppin off anyway to go out with my girl. cus i got other shit to do, like my girl. get it? cus i have a girlfriend.” sukuna teased.
“blah blah blah we get it asshat.”
sukuna chuckled to himself before logging off and heading over to barge on you in the bathroom, which was locked? he lifted a heavy knuckle and tapped on the door twice.
“babe, you takin’ a shit?”
a small snort escaped from the other side of the door, “yea ryo ive been shitting for two hours.”
his crimson eyes fluttered into a roll before he twisted the knob again, “okay brat then why is the door locked, let me in.”
needy bastard. “kuna you can wait for like two minutes, im almost done.” you added the final touches to your face before adjusting your dress again. kinda short. eh its fine.
he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed “almost done what? I can smell your body wash, did you wanna go on a date ton-”
the door swung open, revealing your finished look. hair done and neat, makeup on point, gold jewelry layered all over your body, and your new brown mini dress that hugged your body perfectly.
sukuna paused, looked you up and down, eyes immediately turning hungry.
“black shoes or brown shoes?” you cocked a brow at him.
“fuck, you look gorgeous baby.” he answered completely ignoring your question, “where we goin’?”
you puckered your lips and smiled back at him, “thank you. okay so black or brown?”
“brown. and give me like fifteen minutes, I'll be ready.” he bee-lined straight to the bathroom before your manicured hand pressed against his chest, stopping him right in his tracks.
“ryo you can’t come to girls night. I've told you this like a thousand times.”
girls night? It was like someone shot him in the chest right then and there. not only were you looking absolutely beautiful on a night the both of you had off, you were going out with your friends. instead of sukuna. not to mention how much they hated sukuna. the burly mans shoulders tensed,
“nonono, the hell you mean girls night? I thought WE were going out tonight.” it was almost pathetic how whiney his voice sounded. to anyone else it would've been a once in a blue moon sight, unfortunately for you it wasn’t.
“ryo I told you last night that I was going out with them.”
“did not.”
“did too.”
“did not.”
“ryomen i literally told you before we went to bed and you said ‘okay ill drive you.” you pushed past him and slipped on your brown kitten heels, before admiring your full look in the mirror.
“There's no way I said that, I was out cold before you even shut off the light.” he followed your trail like a sulking puppy`. a large six foot something sulking puppy.
“sukuna i promise you i’m not lying.” you paused with your purse and keys in hand.
“fine. but if i get handsy in the car, you cannot blame me. you look so hot.” he grabbed the keys from your hands and opened the front door.
you tsked, “mhm mhm no touching while my girls are in the car.”
“what.”
“we’re picking them up, remember?”
“you’re shittin’ me.”
-
after thirty minutes of being interrogated, looped into gossip, and asked the ‘you’re a guy what do you think?’ question approximately fifteen times, sukuna finally got to the restaurant.
your girls murmured a bunch of rushed thank yous before quickly hopping out of the car and heading into the restaurant. sukunas hand still gripped the wheel,
“thank you for dropping us off kuna.” you leaned over the center console and gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to turn his head.
“call me if anything.” he responded in a low mumble.
“i know i know.” you smiled before turning to open your door.
“wait.” you paused and turned to look back at your boyfriend who was already outside of the car, he made his way around to your side and opened your door. He held your hand in his large gruff one before pulling you into another kiss, he pulled away just an inch from your mouth, his breath still on yours,
“i’m fucking the shit out of you when you get home.”
you felt the warmth pooling in your cheeks, you bit back a smile and mumbled back
“promise?”
sukunas hands gripped at your waist, before dropping to his sides, a slow huff escaped his nose, “pinky.”
you snorted before walking off, feeling the sting of sukunas hand slapping your ass as you did so.
-
sukuna knew as soon as you called three hours later, slurring every other word, that he would be eating his words that night.
after dropping off your equally drunk friends, he carried you into bed, taking his time removing your make up because he knew you would yell at him if he didn’t, then taking off your heels and dress, changing you into one of his shirts.
“ryo.”
“hm.”
“my friendsss saidd they loveeyou.”
“really?” shocking. considering they mean mugged him all night. didn’t even bother to say his name properly.
you nodded slowly under the sheets.
“why’s that?”
a hiccup escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut “they said… youmake mee glow.”
“they’re idiots.”
you snorted, “loveeyouu.”
“i love you too brat.”
he couldn’t even be mad at you for blue balling him all night.
contains: modern au, sukuna was involved in shady business in the past, babysitting yuji for the first time, it's awkward, messy and cute lmao
The doorbell rings like a death knell. Sukuna—scarred, tattooed, and currently smelling of expensive tobacco and bad decisions—looms in the doorway as he opens it and squints at the person who dared disturb him at this hour of the morning.
His twin, Jin, stands there looking like he hadn’t slept since the dawn of time, clutching a diaper bag.
Serves him right for doing it raw with his then girlfriend and getting her knocked up. The man had guffawed in his brother's ashen, sweating face when he'd come clean to him and their father.
“One night, Ryomen. Please. The gala is mandatory, and the sitter has a cold.”
Jin shoves a warm, squishy bundle into Sukuna’s massive, ink-covered arms and vanishes before Sukuna can explain that he'a better at liquidating assets than burping them.
Now, Sukuna sits on his leather sofa, staring at the creature known as Yuji. Yuji is five months old and currently looking at Sukuna with the horrified fascination one might reserve for a shark in a tuxedo.
“What are you looking at, kid?” Sukuna’s voice is a low, gravelly rumble. It's probably poor taste to intimidate a baby but do you think this man gives a shit?
Exactly. Moving on.
Not much has changed since the last time he was in this stinky, poopy baby's presence.
“Your head's gettin' bigger,” he snorts, finding it utterly ridiculous and hilarious that the little sucker could even hold it up for long on his own yet. “You're like a tyrannosaur without a tail.”
Yuji’s bottom lip wobbles like he understood the insult. He stares at the dark markings creeping up the scary, unfamiliar man's face, eyes bowing and a quiet whine of unease hitching in his chest.
Sukuna leans in, flashing a sharp, predatory grin with all his teeth accounted for, beady red eyes gleaming maliciously. Though in the infant's perspective it's like looking at the man through a fish eye lens which is even creepier with how it warps his face so it's round and huge.
“Yeah, I’m the big bad wolf. Your dad actually sold you to me for a pack of cigarettes,” Jin doesn't even smoke, “He’s not coming back. It’s just us and the cold, hard world now.”
Yuji lets out a tiny, uncertain whimper, curling in on himself in that newborn scrunch kind of way.
“Don’t start that,” Sukuna warns, kissing his teeth in annoyance at the thought of dealing with a crying infant and pointing a calloused finger. “Better watch out. I haven't had breakfast yet. You look like a prime slider.”
A mean chuckle bubbles in his chest as his nephew's eyes widen and he kicks out with a soft hiccup.
“Yeah, I’m gonna eat you. Start with the toes. High protein,” his uncle gives a growl that startles the baby, amusing Sukuna to no end.
But Yuji doesn't cry. Instead, he reaches out a tiny, chubby hand and pats Sukuna’s nose. It is a tactical error—definitely not the reaction he expected.
Kids usually run and scream, hiding behind their parents’ legs when they see him. Hell, even the parents can't seem to comfort their children when the sight of him makes them wanna shit their pants too.
And yet, this fat, pink-haired baby cracks a gummy smile, all coos and gurgles for him. Sukuna just knows he's going to talk his ear off one day.
Sukuna's less grumpy after eating breakfast. He's got Yuji propped up in his baby seat on the couch as they sit in awkward silence, the television playing something uninteresting in front of them.
The baby seems content just sucking on his pacifier but Sukuna is not. Maybe it's because pacifiers don't come in adult sizes. He feels like he needs to say something—anything to end this weird quietness.
“So, uh,” he starts dumbly, scratching the back of his head and clearing his throat as the baby casts his cute little doe eyes on him.
His uncle interlaces his fingers on his lap, squirming a bit like he's in some interview. Which is odd because Sukuna is never nervous; he makes other people nervous by just existing.
“Have you decided which university to want to apply to yet?” That is the stupidest question Sukuna has ever asked and Yuji stares at him blanky, obviously not fucking understanding.
Of course, the man has to make it worse with a poor attempt at a nonchalant shrug as he sniffs. “I'm just saying. I could help you out. Went to an ivy league myself, you know? Could help you apply.”
Again, just that unmoved expression on that plump face, pudgy cheeks drooping with how fat they are and blush, wispy hair sticking out in all directions as he eyes his uncle.
“You've got, what?” He scrunches up one side of his face with a hum as he actually thinks about it. “Eighteen years until you have to enroll? A head start is always a good idea. Your dad is a delayed fucker.”
A blink is all he gets in response, watching his nephew's salmon lashes brush his cheeks as he suckles on his pacifier faster.
The evening quickly devolves into a series of failures after that.
Babies are bound to get fussy when they remember that they don't know who the fuck the person in front of them is. The hulking, tatted man before Yuji is not his Papa Jin or Mama Kaori.
So he cries, eyes glassy and bottom lip jut out as he sniffles and heaves out pathetic sobs.
A tug pulls in Sukuna's chest as he paces, trying to figure out how the fuck to console him. He's tried rocking him, playing nursery rhymes, talking to him, handing him toys.
None of it worked.
Then it hit him. Not just the sock that Yuji kicked off but an idea too.
He's the identical twin of the baby's father—Yuji is biologically his child too. While Jin looks dorky as fuck, they still share a face.
Grumbling, Sukuna puts on his spectacles and ruffles his hair like a dog shaking water off his fur coat. Yuji’s hiccuping cries falter as he frowns at the odd scene before him.
Slick back hair gone, the tresses are now akin to a fucking mop, similar to the bowl cut his dumbass brother has. He feels so silly like this, doesn't know how Jin walks around looking like an embarrassment, how he even got laid.
He wouldn't have believed it if the proof of his brother's rendezvous wasn't currently giggling at his stupid change in appearance, eyes curving into crescents as sweet, heartwarming giggles flutter out of him.
“Yeah, you like your uncle looking like an idiot, huh?” he scoffs, looking at his nephew through the curtain of his bangs but is relieved that it worked.
Yuji coos and babbles in delight.
During feeding time, Sukuna holds the bottle like a live grenade after ensuring to follow the instructions to the T and checking the temperature. As much as he terrifies and torments the kid, he's still his nephew.
Though it's hard to remember that when Yuji decides this is the perfect time to practice being a fucking pressure hose, spraying lukewarm formula across Sukuna’s t-shirt and face, milk dripping from his scowling face, droplets running down the path of his tattoos as he stares ahead for a crumb of patience.
When it comes to burping him, Sukuna pats the baby’s back, big hand spanning his entire upper body and reminding the man just how tiny and fragile the little human is, with the gentlest strength he possesses, which is still enough to make the kid sound like a deflating bagpipe.
“Crap, sorry,” he hisses in apology, softening his touch even further as he waits for the release of gas.
It does come. From his mouth and his butt.
Diaper changing is a biohazard situation that requires Sukuna to use his high-end gin as an emergency sanitizer after a vomit-inducing mishap.
Sukuna holds his breath until his vision blurs, hovering over the changing table with the intensity of a man dismantling a bomb.
“This is worse than a club bathroom. Blech," he gags, pinning a squirming Yuji down with one hand while grappling with a sticky tab.
By 8:00 PM, both are covered in a questionable film of sweat and baby powder. Sukuna sighs, running a hand through his mussed coral locks, stripping off his ruined shirt, and hauling the infant into the tub.
As the warm water fills the basin, something shifts. Sukuna sits on the floor, his massive frame cramped, using a tiny yellow sponge to wipe Yuji’s forehead. Yuji splashes, a spray of water hitting Sukuna’s face.
Sukuna blinks slowly, wipes his eyes, and lets out a dry, accidental chuckle.
Yuji pauses, then lets out a high-pitched, melodic coo. He splashes again, his toothless grin mirroring Sukuna’s sharp one—only this time, it isn't scary. It is just... nice.
An hour later, the house is silent save for the living room. Sukuna is sprawled on the couch, a soft knitted blanket covering his tattooed chest. A bright, neon-coloured movie about singing trolls plays on the massive screen—a far cry from his usual gritty crime dramas.
Yuji is draped atop his chest, propped up on his belly as he's doing “tummy time” or whatever, big brown eyes glued to the kaleidoscope of colours dancing across the television, mouth slightly open as drool glistens on his chin that Sukuna keeps muttering over and wiping away with his thumb.
Begrudgingly, the plot of the movie has sucked him in too, brows drawn together as the scenes reflect in the lenses of his eye comfort glasses.
The pink-haired troll who talks too much for his liking and is buzzing with energy won't get off the blue brooding, grumpy one's ass about something until he snaps. You can guess which one Sukuna relates to.
“Because singing killed my grandma!”
A tense beat of silence envelops the characters as that revelation hits them.
“Damn, this is kinda heavy for kids,” Sukuna muses then scoffs and rolls his head to look at his nephew who doesn't spare him a glance. “But what do I know? I was asking you about college.”
“My uncle died tap dancing once.”
It's so random that Sukuna barks out a laugh, spooking his nephew who almost tumbles off his chest from the force of the action, flailing like a turtle on its back.
Eyes bulging, Sukuna's quick to catch him in one burly arm and settle him back on his chest, heart thudding hard against his ribcage and blood rushing in his ears. “Shit! Sorry, kid.”
He stays in place for the remainder of the movie.
The baby reaches up at one point, tracing the tattoo on Sukuna's collarbone, cooing softly. Sukuna doesn't move. He doesn't even breathe or blink, terrified of breaking the fragile peace.
Slowly, the tiny hands drop as eyes droop. The heavy eyelids slide shut. Yuji puffs out a long, contented sigh, sinking into the warmth of his "scary" uncle.
Sukuna stares down, his rough face melting into an uncharacteristically gentle expression as something warm and fuzzy blooms in behind his ribs. He adjusts the blanket, resting a heavy hand over the infant's back.
Yuji is fast asleep, cheek smushed to his uncle's pec like it's a pillow as his small body rises and falls in perfect sync with Sukuna’s breathing. His tiny fist was curled tightly around Sukuna’s thumb.
A smile, genuine and a little dopey, curls at the corner of Sukuna's mouth as he resumes watching the nature documentary he put on.
The pink-haired man checks on his nephew again, the harsh lines of his face softening once more in the blue light of the television. He’d toppled regimes and moved millions, but this four-pound weight on his sternum feels like the heaviest responsibility he’s ever held.
“Fine,” Sukuna concedes, whispering into the quiet room, careful not to wake the baby. “You can stay. But tomorrow, we’re watching The Godfather.”
Yuji just sighs in his sleep, smelling of lavender and milk.
