levi who feels lazy at times, despite being an early bird he sleeps in with you. your chest pressing against his as you to cuddle in a tight embrace that keeps you both warm and comfortable. he whispers things to you small affirmations while his hand trails down the sweet skin of your thighs, voice deep when he manages to grumble to you.
"you're so beautiful," he compliments, eyes peering open to stare at the sleepy expression on your face. "so beautiful." pure beauty, he thinks. he'll never get tired of these moments with you, skin to skin in peaceful silence.
waking up in the middle of the night to find Sukuna still gaming, fluff
You wake around two to a cold patch of mattress where Sukuna should be, and to the soft, blue-toned glow spilling from under the gaming room door. The silence in the apartment at night is heavy, broken only by the faint click of a mechanical keyboard and the low, muffled chatter of your husband and the boys through his headset.
Wrapping your duvet around your shoulders like a cocoon, you shuffle down the hallway, your eyes half-mast and your hair a bird's nest of sleep. You push the door open just a crack.
Sukuna leans forward, his massive frame silhouetted against his setup. He’s mid-match, fully focused, but the second the hinges creak, his head snaps toward the door.
As he takes in the sight of you, swaddled in fabric and swaying slightly from lingering sleep, the intensity he had for the game vanishes instantly. His lips pull into a small, helpless smile as his expression softens into unguarded love. He looks utterly defeated by the sight of his sleepy wife, and he doesn’t even try to hide it.
"Hey, angel,” he whispers. Without waiting for you to speak, he pushes his chair back from the desk and reaches out with one arm, beckoning you over. "Come here."
Hauling you into his lap easily, he settles you sideways across his thighs before carefully tucking the edges of the duvet around your feet. You don't even have to find your spot; you lean into him naturally, your head resting against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat is steady and strong under your ear, acting as the perfect lullaby.
He slides his headset back on, but his movements change. He’s playing at a disadvantage now, having to reach around you to hit the keys, but he doesn’t seem to care. Every now and then, his large hand mindlessly rubs your arm through the blanket in a soothing motion that pulls you back toward sleep.
Through the faint leak from his headphones, Satoru’s shouts crackle, but the volume is suddenly cut in half by Sukuna so the boys’ voices don’t startle you. He stops talking back to them altogether, communicating only in short, quiet grunts or silent pings on the map.
He finishes the match without moving even an inch, letting you breathe against him, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.
The lobby music hums at a low, nearly imperceptible level as Sukuna waits for the next match to load. Satoru is midway through a loud story about a botched order at the bakery, Suguru openly mocks the white-haired man, and Choso offers dry commentary in the background. Sukuna barely hears them, tuning them out almost entirely, keeping his attention fixed on the weight of you in his lap.
Looking down, he notices your breathing has finally slowed into true sleep. A heavy, quiet warmth settles in his chest, leaving him completely undone by the simple reality that you’re his.
Sukuna reaches out with his free hand, and his thick fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. He tucks it behind your ear, his thumb lingering for a second to graze the shell of it, amused by how you don’t even stir under his touch. In moments like these, he knows exactly how lucky he is.
His hand slides further down, slipping beneath the edge of the blanket to find the small of your back. Blunt nails trace the slow patterns you love as he gently scratches. He feels you melt further against him in your sleep, your body relaxing into his warmth as if you’re subconsciously acknowledging his care.
Even as the game finally finds a match and the loading screen flashes, he doesn’t pull his hand away. He keeps that steady, soothing motion going, his gaze lingering on your peaceful face for a moment longer before he finally turns his attention back to the monitors.
After another game like that, the clicking stops, but you’re sleeping too deeply to notice the difference. Sukuna doesn’t wake you, gently hooking one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, then standing up from the gaming chair effortlessly.
When he reaches the bed, he lowers his massive frame onto the sheets, keeping you tucked firmly against his chest. He pulls the heavy comforter over both of you, wraps his arm around your waist, and presses a slow, lingering kiss to the top of your hair.
"Softie," you mumble into his chest, barely conscious.
There’s no point in denying it, so he lets out a long exhale, rolling his eyes, his hand splayed flat against your back to keep you close. He hooks one of his thick legs over yours, tangling your bodies together, and the heat coming off him makes the rest of the cold room disappear.
"Go to sleep, brat," he mutters back, his voice thick with tenderness.
He gives your waist one last, gentle squeeze before he finally closes his eyes and lets his own exhaustion take over, his grip never loosening even as he falls into a deep sleep.
a/n: domestic sukuna masterlist
@i-luv-mangos i know this isn't what you actually asked for, but since i already had this started, i thought maybe it would work lmao
It was still hard to believe you’d actually managed it, but here you were, on your way to the beach with Sukuna. The man had rarely stepped foot on a sandy shore in his entire life.
You had spent the previous night practically begging him. At first, he’d shot the idea down with a bored roll of his eyes, muttering that it sounded pointless and certainly boring.
But you knew exactly how to work him. One look at you pouting on the couch, combined with the mental image of you looking mouthwatering in a tiny bikini stretched out on a towel, was all the convincing he actually needed to change his mind.
You had stubbornly refused to let him see the bikini you wore under your clothes this morning, telling him, “I want it to be a surprise!”
Now that you had finally arrived at your destination, you didn't waste a second. You whipped your tube top off right there in the car, revealing a tiny, yellow triangle top covered in brown polka dots.
Stepping out, the matching thong bottom left absolutely nothing to the imagination from behind.
You turned around to face him, and the look on your boyfriend's face was completely priceless.
Sukuna was practically drooling, his eyes fixed entirely on you, tracking every single inch of bare skin you had just unveiled.
A wicked smirk spread across his face as you laid both of your towels out on the sand, his eyes tracking the way the summer sun hit your bare skin. “Come put sunscreen on me first, yeah?”
You nodded in approval, grabbing the bottle before straddling his thighs and sitting down on his lower back.
Pouring a generous amount of the cool lotion into your palms, you rubbed your hands together and smoothed them over his muscular shoulders first.
You worked your way down at a gentle pace, your thumbs kneading into the tight tension of his back, nearly massaging him.
“You're so warm and huge… I think I just wanted an excuse to sit on you like this,” you said, chuckling while your hands were still working on applying sunscreen.
You patted his broad shoulder, smoothing down the last of the lotion. “All done! You can turn over now.”
He kept his face buried in his arms against the towel. “I can't.”
“Why?” you asked, blinking down at him.
“I said I can't. Now just go swimming,” he growled, voice tight.
Giggling at his stubborn behavior, you ran off toward the water, which was completely calm without a single wave in sight.
You had absolutely no idea that his sudden stiffness was actually a raging boner, brought on entirely by your touch and that little remark you'd made earlier.
It took a solid ten minutes of intense waiting before the blood finally receded enough for him to turn over and sit normally on the towel.
Spotting him, you waved excitedly before running out of the water to head back to the spot.
You were completely soaked, your wet hair slicked back, and the water droplets tracking down your skin made your tits move in a way that had him wanting to take you right then and there.
Unfortunately for him, that exact view sent all the blood rushing right back to where it had just left.
As you got closer, he snatched your tiny purse on the towel by his side using it to hide his growing erection.
You stopped in front of him, dripping wet. “The water is amazing, get up!” you beamed, reaching out to tug at his tattooed arm.
Sukuna gripped the purse like his life depended on it, glaring up at you with pure desperation. “No. Go back in the water.”
You pouted, crossing your arms. “You're no fun. I thought you wanted to see the bikini?”
“I do,” he gritted out, his knuckles turning white around the strap of your bag. “From a distance. Sit down before I make you.”
⤷ ゛your husband nanami kento tries your breast milk ˎˊ˗ fluff into smut, fem!reader, husband!nanami ♡
wc. 641
ever since you gave nanami a baby girl, he'd changed. more attentive. more gentle. he handled late-night feedings, changed diapers without complaint, and constantly made sure you had everything you needed.
but lately, there was always something else in his eyes whenever he watched you.
one evening, you sat in the living room nursing your daughter when nanami quietly wandered in from the kitchen. he stopped beside the couch, gaze lingering on the peaceful sight of your baby feeding in your arms.
his throat tightened.
he wasn't sure when the curiosity had started, but lately he'd found himself wondering...
what does breast milk taste like?
the thought made his ears burn.
"ken?" you asked softly. "something wrong?"
he blinked. "i'm alright, darling. just thinking."
once your daughter finished and drifted off, the two of you tucked her into bed together. nanami smiled as he pulled the blanket over her tiny shoulders before quietly following you back to the living room.
"you've been quiet tonight," you teased.
"sorry love," he said, then quickly changed the subject.
the conversation faded in a couple minutes, and after dozing off together for a while, you shifted uncomfortably. your blouse was damp where milk had leaked through.
"you feeling alright?" nanami asked, noticing your squirming
"i'm just really full," you sighed, instinctively cradling your breast. "i should probably pump."
as you stood, he suddenly grabbed your wrist.
"don't," he said quietly, "i…"
he seemed to be wrestling with something internally, brow furrowed slightly. you sat there, suprised by his sudden interruption. "ken? baby, i really need to pump."
"…would it help if…" he trails off, regretting starting the sentence.
"help if what?"
"…if i helped instead of the pump."
you blinked, certain you heard him wrong "what?"
his ears were noticeably red now, the flush creeping down his neck. he looked away, jaw tightening.
"…relive the pressure," he clarified, his voice strained. "instead of pumping."
a startled laugh bubbled up from your chest, completely breaking the heavy tension. you couldn't help it—the sight of your usually composed husband flustered was a rare right.
"oh kento!" you giggled, pressing a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound so you won't wake your baby. "you could have just said you wanted to try some, y'know."
"i didn't know how to ask..." nanami managed to say, watching you laugh. he was feeling like an idiot but also strangely warmed by your reaction.
"so, do you want it in a cup, or straight from the source?" you wiggled your eyebrows teasingly.
"a cup. please."
"thought so."
you disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a small glass of freshly pumped milk. sliding it toward him, you watched his fingers wrap around the warm glass.
he stared at it for a long moment before finally taking a cautious sip.
his eyebrows lifted.
"...it's actually really good."
you laughed.
"it's sweet, like vanilla," he admitted, sounding genuinely surprised.
"i know."
he took another small sip before looking back at you, still slightly pink.
"i didn't expect that."
leaning your chin into your hand, you smiled.
"want more?"
safe to say that he liked it, so of course the next time you two had sex (after the baby was settled at his parents for the night) he didn't hesitate.
pinning you to the mattress, he immediately lowered his head to your chest, warm mouth closing over your nipple.
"oh— ken" you gasped as he sucked eagerly.
"mmph—" he pulled back, his mouth shining wetly with your milk. his pupils were dilated, his gaze intense.
"another one," he panted, nipping at your neck possessively. "i want another baby. so you'll always be full of milk for me to drink."
soon enough his wish was fulfilled because two months later, there were two lines on your pregnancy test. (yes, with twins this time)
a/n: next time it'll be in reverse WHO SAID THAT. i did so much research for this fic only for me to delete all the detailed parts because i didnt want to bore anyone 💔
satoru loves listening to you, especially when your lips are against his. . .
the room is quiet enough that every little sound feels louder than it should— the soft rustle of blankets, and the tiny laugh that escapes you when satoru steals another kiss before you even finish your sentence.
“you know,” you mumble against his lips. “you should really listen to me right now.”
“i’m listening,” he replies, barely pulling away. his lips brush yours with every word. “you said i’m handsome.”
“i definitely didn’t.”
“no? must’ve imagined it.”
you roll your eyes, though he can’t really see it from how close you are. your noses bump together, and he smiles before giving you another slow, lazy kiss.
“you interrupted me again,” you say.
“m’sorry.. keep talking, sweetheart.”
another kiss.
“i’m trying to tell you,” you whisper, your lips still resting against his. “that we need groceries.”
“we’ll figure something out,” he hums thoughtfully, his breath warm against your face.
“i doubt it, you big back.”
“you’re so mean to me.”
you laugh, the sound breaking into another kiss because satoru seems physically incapable of letting more than a few seconds pass without stealing one.
“kissing me until i forget what i was saying?”
“…is it working?” he muses.
you pause. “…maybe.”
“i know you‘re enjoying yourself,” he says softly, brushing his lips over yours again. “you haven‘t pulled away yet.”
“seems like i’ve made questionable life choices.”
he gasps dramatically, though his smile gives him away.
“oh? dating me is questionable?”
“sometimes.”
another kiss.
“when you leave your socks everywhere.”
mwah.
“when you eat all my snacks.”
mwah.
“when you—”
he kisses you longer that time, lingering just enough that you forget where your complaint is going.
“…see?” he murmurs.
“you are so annoying.”
“but?”
“but…” you smile. “you’re very cute.”
his grin is immediate, and he kisses the corner of your mouth
“what do you want for dinner?” you ask.
“hmm…” he pretends to think hard, his forehead resting against yours. “you.”
“oh my god,” you groan. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”
“maybe.” he grins into the next kiss.
“you should be embarrassed.”
“can’t hear your mean remarks when you’re this close.”
your lips meet in soft, absent-minded kisses between tiny conversations about nothing at all. whether the laundry is finished, whether the weather looks nice tomorrow, or how his teaching is going.
“toru—” kiss. “—how am I supposed to—” another kiss. “—focus?”
“why’d you need to?” his smile softens into something quieter, gentler than his usual teasing grin.
postpartum depression is real, and ryomen hates it
tw: postpartum depression(ive never been pregnant so im trying my best) cursing, fluff flufff and angstttt, ryomen being the softest human being ever, mentions of death, DIDNT PROOFREAD
you’re lying in bed on you stomach, face smashed into a very fluffy pillow ryomen invested his money into.
thoughts running a million miles per hour, ryomen is in the next room rocking your beautiful newborn son to sleep. you let out a loud sigh, you’re body rightfully drained, never have you felt this tired before and you’ve done sports before.
your brain feels the same as your body, tired.
just extremely.. “tireddd” you groan.
the door behind you opens “babe?” you grunt. ryomen immediately crosses the room to be by your side, you never grunt, normally you hum when he or someone catches your attention.
he knows something is wrong.
he knows you’re tired.
“talk t’me” you shake you head then you feel two hands grab your waist. he gently places you on his lap, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.
“can’t.. m’so fucking drained ryomen” your voice cracks and you feel your eyes getting wet. “i know baby, i know, if there is anything i can do.. let me know.”
in a moment of silence he runs his rough hands softly up and down your plush thighs.
you nod, you’re face now smashed into his neck not the pillow. “maybe they should’ve let me di-“ his eyes shift towards you. “shut up” he pulls up and holds you up.
“shut the fuck up” you’re eyebrows knit together “excuse me?” “you’re fucking excused” you roll your eyes. “don’t ever say that, ever again.” he grabs your face, your face squished.
“im sorry for being rude, but i don’t want to hear that sentence come out from your damn mouth ever again, you deserve to be here.” he lets go of your face and kisses your cheek. “we deserve to be here, with our son, who’s asleep”
“yeah?” he nods “hell yeah baby, you always wanted this, i know you’re not at your best but you look-“ trying to control his words he looks up and down at you slowly. “like a mother.”
you smile “don’t lie to me, i look a complete mess, I don’t think ive showed in 3 days.” he hums and leans in and sniffs. “ewww ryo!” you giggle and he smiles “smell good too.” “you’re so nastyy”
he kisses your cheek “im sorry” he looks down, ashamed? “wait what, what are you sorry for?” he shakes his head his smile faded into a frown, different from his normal pout.
“ive been so engrossed into taking care of yuji.. i- fuck” his voice cracks “i almost forgot about you.. about us” you kiss his shoulder. “i forgot about myself too, don’t be sorry.” he sighs and shakes his head “I should be sorry, extremely.”
he picks you up and gives you a bath, rubbing your back and washing your body letting you unwind and ease your mind.
finally.
my masterlist
ps. came up with this last night, because I saw a video of this woman(i forgot the @) and i forget that sometimes our parents forget themselves to take care of us. so appreciate yours💕
── .✦ apologizing after yelling at your warrior husband sukuna in front of his men (oops) ✧.*
"'kuna."
your husband said nothing. he merely continued to brush his horse down, barely acknowledging your presence behind him. your fingers fidgeted with your sleeve, nervous and guilty.
only an hour ago, you had argued with him openly in front of his men over something trivial. it should've occurred to you that something was wrong when he didn't even say a word in response. he only let you rant as he stood silent, jaw tightening. when you were done, you had just stormed off without giving him a chance to reply.
as your anger subsided, you had started to realize how he must have felt. being a formidable warrior with a fearsome reputation, sukuna never once showed a hint of weakness except with you. he had always been intimidating, terrifying, powerful. and there you were, undermining him with just an indignant lecture and no care at all for who he was with.
sukuna always met your fire with just as much ferocity. deep down, he loved to fight with you because he knew you could take whatever you dished out. the two of you would row it out until it ended in begrudging apologies and laughter while tangling under your sheets.
yet now, he didn't even deign to look at you. it hurt more than you could admit.
"'kuna, please," you pleaded softly, fingers brushing the muscles of his back. "truly i didn't mean to lose my temper, i'm sorry."
without him even turning, you knew the face he was making. eyes shut, teeth grinding, refusing to meet your eyes despite how much he might have wanted to. you didn't back down. a pout pulled your lips as your voice turned exaggeratedly plaintive.
"if i have offended my lord husband in any way, i wish to repent." your arms came around his torso, cheek resting against him. "it wasn't my place to speak to you that way," you murmured, coy, docile, so unlike yourself that sukuna would've laughed any other day. "i'll suffer any punishment you see fit."
still, he didn't move, though his hands almost paused, then tightened on the brush, resuming. you could feel his resolve breaking bit by bit, and you latched on to it.
"yell at me, curse me, scold me, do whatever you'd like to me," you walked around to face him, stood between his horse and his broad chest. you looked up at him through your lashes, then hugged him again as his whole body tensed up, still acting like you weren't there.
"just please, look at me again. i can't bear being apart from you."
after a few moments of tense silence, sukuna cursed under his breath and suddenly moved. strong arms wrapped around you in a crushing embrace, bringing you closer to him, and you hid a triumphant yet relieved smile.
"you provoke me, over and over again," he began, growling. "and the second i turn away from you, you cling like a vine." his fingers grabbed your face and forced it upwards as he glared down at you. "spoiled brat."
"will you forgive me?" you asked, voice muffled as he squished your cheeks. he let out an exasperated huff.
"let's see how i feel once i give you the punishment you so sweetly asked for," he pinched your ear and suppressed a smirk, making you whine. you didn't move away from him, though, content to be right where you were. and you suspected your husband was, too. no matter how mad he got, he was always weak for you in the end.
a/n: tysm for 200 followers !! im in disbelief ✧.*
rain softly tapped against the window while you were folded under a blanket on the couch, fast asleep.
satoru walks in, drenched from the rain. he shrugged off his soaked jacket and kicked off his shoes. he sighed, walking into the living room,
“baby, im home.” he calls out softly.
silence.
he frowned, that was unusual.
“baby?” he calls out again.
silence again.
it was only 5pm. there was no way you’re sleeping, satoru thought, until he saw you.
laying there like a cat, your lips slightly parted, both hands under your head.
“god baby..” he murmured, unable to hold back the smile forming on his face. he crouched down beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.
youu looked so soft, so peaceful. he couldnt remember the last time he has seen you like this. no cute pouty lips or furrowed brows. just you... he couldn’t help himself.
his thumb traced your cheek just for a second before he leaned down, softly and carefully pressing a light kiss to your forehead.
The bedroom is entirely silent, illuminated only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp on his side of the bed. It’s late, well past midnight, and Sukuna’s propped up against the pillows in nothing but boxers, holding a book open in his right hand, completely at ease, while the other is trapped beneath your weight.
Sprawled shamelessly across his side, your cheek pressed right over his ribs, you let your body go limp while your mind refuses to follow suit. Restlessness creeps in, your thoughts racing in circles, dredging up problems just for the sake of having something to gnaw on. The silence makes your thoughts feel way too loud, twisting a thin, ridiculous thread of worry out of nothing at all.
Your eyes drift over the page of his book without taking in a single word, and before you can stop yourself, the question tumbles out into the dim room, your voice barely above a whisper and oddly hesitant.
"You ever think I'm too clingy? Like... you ever wish I gave you more space?"
Sukuna freezes beneath your cheek, every muscle going rigid. After a moment, he drops his book onto the nightstand, tilting his head down, crimson eyes blown wide with pure, flat-out bewilderment. He stares at you, genuinely trying to figure out if he heard you right, like you’ve suddenly started speaking a completely foreign language.
"What the fuck kind of question is that?" he asks, his gravelly voice dropping into a low, stunned rumble that cuts right through the quiet air. He shifts under you, eyebrow cocked, shooting you a look like you’ve just sprouted horns. "Where the hell is this coming from? Who put that stupid shit in your head?"
"Dunno," you mumble, heat creeping up your cheeks as the words hang in the air, sounding even more absurd now that they’re out. Your fingers fidget with a stray thread on the duvet, eyes glued to the fabric. "My brain’s just being an asshole tonight."
A deep, exasperated scoff rumbles out of your husband, but the tightness in his jaw softens almost immediately, replaced by a raw, unguarded fondness that settles over his face.
“Woman, have you been paying attention to me at all these past few years? Seriously, think for one fucking second, idiot." The command comes out rough, but there’s no bite to it, just a lot of tired fondness. He jerks his chin at the bed, making you actually look at the state of things. "Look at you. You’re basically glued to my side, I can’t even move my damn arm. You’re in my shirt, you stole my socks, and your freezing-ass hand is between my thighs. If I wanted space, trust me, you’d be on the floor."
A tiny, involuntary giggle slips out of you, but he’s not finished. His hand squeezes your waist as he shifts beneath you just enough to remind you how much bigger he is.
“I’m a grown-ass man. I’m stronger than you,” he goes on, his voice rumbling right through his chest and into your cheek. "If I wanted to move, I'd move. But you? You’re glued to me every fucking day, stealing my personal space since day one. You climb on me when I’m trying to read, treat me like a mattress—and I never stop you. Ever think that’s because I want you there?”
His hand comes up, large and rough, calloused fingers curling gently beneath your chin, tipping your face toward his. Shadows flicker across his features, but his eyes lock onto yours with a fierce, protective devotion that knocks the breath right out of you.
“I agreed to that stupid ‘hear me out’ cake just to hear you laugh,” he rumbles, shaking his head, and at last, a wide grin splits his face. “I drove across the city so you could look at ducks. Does that sound like a man who wants less of you? Your brain’s being a dick. Tell it to shut up.”
“…fair,” you admit quietly, and the heavy, tangled knot of overthinking in your chest finally starts to unravel under the weight of his logic.
“Actually, hold the fuck on,” Sukuna growls, moving from underneath you to lean over you, completely wrapping you in his bulk. “You think you’re the clingy one?”
Caught completely off guard by the sudden intensity in his voice, you blink up at him.
“I call you every fucking day, or you’d forget to eat,” he starts, not giving you a chance to interrupt, his eyes locking onto yours. "Started doing that stupid skincare with you. Hid roses around the apartment just so you’d smile all day. Crawled under a fucking car because you wanted a cat. I panic if you’re not in bed, can’t fall back asleep till you’re back in my arms. Let you tank my fucking CS rank ‘cause apparently you gotta touch my arm every six seconds. And you think I want more space? You think I’d still be here doing all that shit if you were too much for me?”
You stay completely silent, your mouth parting slightly as you stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs from the weight of everything he’s just said. He, on the other hand, is looking at you like you’re absolutely hopeless.
“Use your goddamn brain, woman,” Sukuna murmurs with a crooked grin, his deep voice thick with fondness. “Who’s actually clingy in this relationship? I’ve been chasing after you for years…” He trails off, clicks his tongue, then reluctantly admits, “…like a fucking idiot.”
Whatever heavy, stupid fog was clouding your mind finally lifts, swept away by a rush of pure warmth. A bright smile breaks across your face as your hands slide up his bare chest, arms winding tight around his neck to pull him down into a deep, lingering kiss.
Sukuna lets out a satisfied chuckle against your lips as he pulls back just slightly, crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "Understood?"
A breathless laugh escapes you, your chest still fluttery with relief. "Yeah. Thanks, Kuna." You kiss him again, softer this time, lips lingering on his. When you pull away, you can’t help but smile, teasing, "And it’s definitely you."
He groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "Don’t start, brat."
a/n: okay, so this happened because someone asked me to write about insecurities, and that ask somehow sent me down a completely different rabbit hole. i started thinking about the difference between insecurities and your brain just deciding to be an absolute asshole for one evening and… well, this happened.
dunno, maybe it's because my previous adhd meds used to make me overthink once they wore off, and it'd always be the most ridiculous stuff i'd never question in a million years otherwise.
he looks down in shame. and ryomen sukuna is never ashamed of anything he’s done, and he’s done a lot of shit.
“that asshole was putting his hands on you” he huffs and looks at your chest instead of your eyes “so yes, again” you’ve never looked this visibly annoyed, and what was scaring him even more is how calm your voice was.
“look at me, not my tits ryomen” you narrow your eyes, he immediately looks up “yes ma’am” you grab his collar and the security turns a blind eye(he’s been getting on their nerves also)
“when I say no stupid shit, that means no-” you give him a hard slap “-jail, got it?” he just nods his face didn’t even budge, of course you don’t intend to harm your husband and you’re not abusive. sometimes with ryomen sukuna you literally need to smack some sense into him.
“yes ma’am” he nods again, “can you bail me now?” you roll your eyes “im not picking you up again, call choso” ryomens eyebrows knit together in annoyance “but i want you to pick me up” if anyone didn’t know any better, he’s whining for you to pick him up.
“no ryo” he tilts his head and subconsciously pouts then leans in “cmon woman, stop being a brat” his words have no bite, but when you smile he scowls.
you take a deep sigh and close your eyes, “last time” “i promise baby” he smirks.
you both know this definitely isn’t the first, nor the last.
ps. ok pinky promise this is the last drabble after this ima finish two more request than boxer choso is coming😭 taglist : : @in-aa @chewiebee @applelite @crybabylulu @yassifie-d @ai-no-tegami @silverwfern @oksukuna
you were curled up on the bed, shivering under layers of blankets, your nose all red and your voice hoarse from sneezing. the fire crackled weakly in the corner of the room, but it didn’t seem enough to keep you warm.
sukuna was sitting on a chair beside the bed, a pair of arms crossed—and the other two resting on his knees, fingers tapping lightly—he was watching you.
or rather, say that he was actually scowling down at you, his crimson eyes boring into you like he could feel every ache, every shiver running through your body.
“truly, i do not comprehend how one can be so fragile,” he muttered, shifting forward slightly so his upper arms hovered closer to your sides, “i told you, woman, not to walk in the gardens in the middle of the night, yet here you lie, shivering like some helpless child. do you take no heed of my words?”
“i… i just caught a cold,” you croaked, trying to smile despite the ache in your head. “i’ll be fine. i’m not that fragile.”
“you’ll be fine, indeed. but this shall not stand.” he moved closer, two hands tugging blankets snugly around you while the other two cupped a steaming bowl of some thick, herbal concoction that had been sitting on the bedside table. the scent was so strong it almost made you want to throw up.
“drink this. it shall restore what you have foolishly allowed to slip away.”
“you’re… so bossy,” you muttered, attempting to sit up, but he pressed a hand to your shoulder with firm authority, gently pushing you back against the headboard.
“i am your king,” he said, commanding, rising from the chair and kneeling at your side of the bed like a careful guardian, “and you will obey.”
you tried not to giggle at the formal way he spoke, like some grumpy prince of old, but it was impossible. his frown deepened as you snuggled into the blankets again, hiding your face from him.
“okay, my lord,” you whispered, unable to stop a small smile from forming.
sukuna grunted, as if satisfied. one of his upper arms brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, another gently pressed against your back to keep you warm. you felt the tenderness in his gestures.
“do not speak unless necessary. you must rest.”
you stayed silent, letting him fuss. he propped up your pillows, held the bowl to your lips, guiding it carefully so you could sip despite your protest.
“it tastes terrible,” you muttered, wrinkling your nose.
“yes, i’m aware. it is beneficial, therefore you shall drink. whether it pleases you is irrelevant.”
‘cute,’ you thought.
hours passed. you dozed intermittently and each time you stirred, sukuna was there, brushing stray hairs from your face or subtly shifting your position so you wouldn’t shiver. at one point, you shivered so violently he scooped you up from behind and settled you into his lap, holding you tightly against his chest, tucking your legs around him so no part of you could get cold.
“you are foolish,” he muttered, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “i have endured a thousand years of battle and bloodshed and yet here i am, undone by a woman who cannot stay warm.”
you laughed softly, snuggling closer. “you really are dramatic.”
“i am dramatic only because it concerns you,” he added, shifting slightly to wrap an extra blanket around both of you and pressing a hand along your arm, caressing you, “now, rest. do not force yourself to rise.”
you blinked up at him, smirking. “you’re so warm.”
“do not make me repeat myself, woman.” his frown deepened and he leaned you even closer, adjusting your position so your head rested comfortably on his chest, his gaze softening as he watched you. “i told you to rest. now close your running mouth and sleep. i shall still be here when you wake,” he murmured, gently playing with your hair.
there was no malice—only love tangled with his innate grumpiness.
you leaned against him, finally letting yourself relax completely and for a long while, the only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire and sukuna’s low, protective hums as he held you close.
you had never felt more healthy in your entire life.
husband!sukuna wakes up in the middle of the night cause he feels your side of the bed empty. (◞‸◟)
the night was still, thick with that kind of silence that makes every small sound feel too loud. the door slid open with a soft hiss and the chill crept into the room. sukuna stirred. at first, he didn’t open his eyes — just reached out lazily across the bed, fingers brushing against nothing but cool silk.
his eyes cracked open.
empty space.
he sat up, a faint scowl pulling at his mouth. “tch,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough from sleep. the moonlight cut pale lines across his bare chest as he stood up, pulling on the first robe he could find.
you weren’t supposed to wander at night — not without a word and certainly not without him.
the estate was quiet, servants long asleep, the night air heavy with the scent of rain that hadn’t fallen yet. his bare feet made almost no sound on the wooden floors as he stepped out into the garden, guided by a faint glow at the far edge — soft, silvery and almost magical.
and there you were.
kneeling among the tall grass, your white robes pooled around you, brushing against the damp earth. the moonflowers had opened, their petals glowing faintly, breathing light into the dark. your hands hovered just above the petals, like you were afraid to disturb their delicate glow. you looked like you belonged there — small, quiet and completely absorbed by them.
sukuna stopped a few steps away, all four of his arms folding over his chest. for a moment, he just watched you. his irritation melted into something heavier.
how beautiful you were, he thought.
“you’ll ruin your robes out here, woman,” he said finally, voice low and refined but still rough around the edges.
you startled, looking over your shoulder. “you scared me,” you whispered, a little breathless.
“you scared me first,” he said, stepping closer. “i woke to find your side cold.”
“i didn’t mean to wake you up,” you admitted softly, your fingers brushing over a glowing moonflower. “i apologize.”
“it doesn’t matter,” he said immediately, crouching down beside you, his gaze soft, catching the light smile on your face. “i cannot sleep without you by my side regardless.”
you blinked, slightly embarrassed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “i just… wanted to see them,” you murmured. “they only bloom once a month. i couldn’t stay away.”
he reached out, brushing a finger along your cheek, tilting your face gently to look at him. “you are reckless, you know that?” he said, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “it is endearing, in a maddening sort of way.”
“maddening?” you asked, then let out a low laugh, almost lost in the night air.
“yes,” he said, leaning closer. “your stubborn little heart, wandering where you ought not… it is maddening.”
he pressed his lips to yours then, tasting the quiet of the night and the faint scent of moonflowers on your skin. your hands rose instinctively, resting on his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the silk of his robe. the world narrowed to just the two of you, the flowers glowing faintly around you like witnesses to something fragile and sacred.
he pulled back just a little, resting his forehead against yours, his voice held a tender edge. “come. before you catch a cold.”
you looked at him, heart racing. before you could protest, he scooped you up in his arms — two under your knees, the others supporting your back and shoulders — “i would not have you shivering through the night,” he said, carrying you effortlessly through the grass, your robes brushing against dew-soaked stems.
“i’m warm,” you whispered, but your voice was filled with laughter and awe. “i’m fine.”
“stop talking nonsense, woman,” he said, shaking his head, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “i will not leave you to chance. you are my queen.”
as he walked back toward the sleeping palace, you rested your head against his shoulder, letting yourself relax completely in his arms. the faint glow of moonflowers faded behind you, but the warmth of the moment lingered, a secret between the two of you.
“next time,” he murmured, voice low near your ear, “wake me.”
you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “you will come?” you echoed.
you wrap his robe around yourself like you were born to wear it.
it’s heavy, silk brushing your bare legs, sleeves dragging just a bit because he’s huge. it smells like incense and that warmth that always clings to him—like the air right before lightning strikes. the fabric pools at your feet as you walk through the room, just living your peaceful little life like you didn’t just claim the wardrobe of the king of curses.
quiet morning light spills through the shoji. you’re humming. there’s tea steaming on the table.
the world feels so soft.
and then you hear him.
slow footsteps. every click of his heel against polished wood says trouble is arriving.
and then here he is—the king of curses, ryomen sukuna.
he appears in the doorway. takes one look at you in his robe and his eyebrow twitches.
oh no.
he doesn’t say anything at first. just . . .stares. like he’s trying to decide if he should scold you, laugh, or throw you over his shoulder and drag you back to bed.
“enjoying yourself?” he finally asks.
you grin. “very.”
he steps closer, his eyes were narrowing. “that is my robe.”
“our robe now,” you correct, lifting your chin and pretending you don’t feel your heart beating like mad.
you expect him to snatch it back or make some dramatic speech about dignity, respect and privacy, but instead he just stands in front of you, towering, his arms crossed over his chest like he’s trying so hard not to show how flustered he actually is.
“you dare to parade around in garments reserved for a king?” he murmurs, offended and a little stunned by you. “little wife, are you so bold this morning?”
“mhmm,” you hum, adjusting the robe again just to annoy him. “it’s cozy.”
“you are insufferable,” he declares. “do you believe acting cute will protect you from consequence?”
you tilt your head, a slow breath slipping out. “it does make me look cute, though.”
“it most certainly does not,” he replies immediately, like the words escaped before he could lie properly.
you grin, triumphant. “you like it.”
“i do not.” he looks away, his jaw tense. “it is unsightly.”
“that’s insane because you’re literally blushing.”
he snaps his gaze back so fast it’s a miracle the room didn’t shake. “i do not blush, woman.”
you walk around him, fingers trailing across his ribs like you own every inch of him. “sure. okay. your majesty.”
he grabs your wrist gently—too gently for his own persona—pulling you back to face him. “woman,” he says, breath ghosting your lips, “do not test me.”
“why? what’re you gonna do?” you ask, smiling up at him like the menace you are.
he leans down, voice softer than he wants it to be. “i should punish you for stealing from me.”
“i didn’t steal, my dear husband,” you whisper. “i just borrowed it. what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine, remember?”
he studies you for a beat, then sighs like you are the single greatest burden and joy in his immortal life.
“fine. keep it,” he mutters, finally letting go. “i still think you look ridiculous, but . . . i find no displeasure in it.” a beat, followed by a low grumble.
you blink. “that almost sounded sweet.”
he scoffs, already turning away so you don’t see the corners of his mouth soften. “do not grow arrogant. it will not happen again. from now on, i’ll lock my garments away and ward the chests so impudent little wives may not raid them.”
you walk up behind him, wrap your arms around his waist, cheek pressed to his back. “sure, my dear husband. whatever you say.”
he freezes, but then you feel his hand come up to cover yours.
“troublesome brat,” he says quietly.
but he doesn’t move away. instead, he squeezes your hand a little tighter.
the clatter is tiny. barely anything. just the soft tap of a wooden comb slipping off your bedside tray. but it’s the middle of the night and the room is so quiet that even a whisper sounds like thunder.
and of course he hears it.
you freeze, halfway reaching for the comb, when a low rumble vibrates behind you.
“woman.” sukuna’s voice is thick with sleep, rougher than usual, edged with that irritated tone he wears like armor. “what are you doing?”
you turn your head just enough to see him through the dimness. he’s lying on his side, pink hair spilling messy over the silk pillows, all four arms shifting in slow, annoyed stretches. his crimson eyes aren’t even open yet — just slits glowing faintly in the dark.
“i didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper quickly. “i’m sorry, go back to sleep.”
“you’re still awake.” his eyes open fully now, sharp as a blade even in half darkness. “care to tell me why?” he raises an eyebrow at you. he isn’t really asking. sukuna never asks —when he speaks, he wants an answer.
you swallow, comb in hand, suddenly feeling small under that gaze. “i just . . . couldn’t sleep. again.”
yeah, you’ve been having trouble sleeping for days now —nothing dramatic, really. just that restless and unsettled feeling that keeps your eyes open long after the lamps go out.
it’s frustrating, though.
you hear him grunting. it’s definitely not a sympathetic sound but it isn’t dismissive either.
one of his upper arms drags over his face like he’s trying to wipe the exhaustion off, while the other three shift the blankets aside.
“come here.” he demands.
you blink. “i’m right here.”
“not close enough,” he mutters, his voice deepening, it’s colder but in that familiar way that somehow still makes your heart warm. “i can hear your thoughts rattling around like loose stones. it’s irritating.”
you almost smile. he’ll never say he’s worried. never directly.
you move back toward him, settling near his chest, but before you can get comfortable, all four of his arms wrap around you at once — two around your waist, one across your upper back and one slipping under your legs.
“sukuna—”
he sits up in one smooth, unnervingly effortless motion, lifting you with him like you weigh absolutely nothing. your breath catches as he shifts you higher into his hold, one hand supporting your thigh, the others keeping you tightly against him.
“if you cannot sleep,” he says, slow and stern, “then neither can i.”
“that’s not very sweet of you,” you mumble into his neck.
“i’m not sweet,” he snaps back immediately. “but i am tired. and if carrying you outside is the only way to silence that restless little head of yours, then so be it.”
you don’t have time to argue. he’s already standing, already walking, bare feet silent against the wooden floors of the estate. the lanterns outside the sliding doors glow faintly —low, warm and guiding.
“you could’ve just held me,” you whisper as he pushes open the door with one foot.
“i am holding you,” he replies, unimpressed.
“i mean — in bed.”
“you were still awake,” he reminds you, stepping out into the courtyard. cool night air brushes your skin instantly, making you shiver. he tightens all four arms around you. “and you were fidgeting.”
“i moved one thing—”
“it was enough.”
you roll your eyes, but he ignores it, heading toward the center of the courtyard where the lanterns hang from wooden posts like suspended fireflies. the moon is huge tonight — pale, perfectly round and glowing like a polished pearl above the tiled rooftops.
he kneels, lowering himself with a grace no one his size should have, then settles with you in his lap. his lower arms stay around your waist, locking you in place, while the upper ones rest over your shoulders and thighs, holding you like you might drift away if he let go.
“look,” he orders quietly, chin nudging your temple. “the sky is calm. surely even your thoughts can follow its example.”
“you could just tell me you wanted to look at the moon with me,” you mutter, teasing him.
“i do not want anything. you are the one who cannot sleep.”
you smile into his chest, knowing he feels it when one of his arms pulls you closer, almost instinctively. the cool night, the faint scent of wet earth, the distant chirps of nocturnal insects — it all sits softly around you.
“thank you,” you whisper.
he exhales slowly, his breath warm against the top of your head.
“rest,” he murmurs, his voice losing its edge just a little. “i will keep watch.”
“like i’m some princess.”
“you are my wife,” he says simply. “it is practically the same.”
your cheeks heat. you lean your head against him fully now, letting the rhythm of his breathing settle into you.
he doesn’t complain. he just holds you tighter, four strong arms wrapped around you under the moonlight — impossibly gentle in the only way he knows how.
stealing your husband’s chocolate and finding out it was laced with an aphrodisiac!
[content: MDNI, crack smųt, a very unserious piece of work, piv, hair pulling, use of aphrodisiacs, sukuna’s sour but then he’s sweet]
Never in your life have you been so horny it hurt.
“Kuna, please—harder,” you cry out.
“I’m going as hard as I fucking can, you little slut,” he snaps, each thrust matching every harsh word that gets spat through his teeth. “THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T EAT RANDOM. CHOCOLATE. ON. THE. COUNTER.”
“I’m sorry! Fuck!! I didn’t know!”
“There was a note saying DON’T eat it—you just didn’t give a shit because you’re a thief and a glutton. A liar now, too,” he continues to scold you over the chocolate bar he was going to give to Jin so he’d stop groveling over his ex. It’s been 6 fucking months, he’s tired of having to listen to him go on and on about Kaori. Enough is enough—he needs to go out and sleep with someone.
And now Jin’s never going to shut up. Sukuna doesn’t even want to look at you right now—let alone reward your behavior with dick.
“And now you’re cryin’ like it’s my fuckin’ fault.” It’s him who should be crying right now. “It’s simple: Leave my fucking snacks alone. I always get multiples of each so you’d keep your grubby little hands off them. Why can’t you just be normal and go in my wallet?? Fuck—Arch that back some more.” He cracks his palm over your ass. “Yeah, hike it up nice and high.”
“I can’t!” It feels like it’s about to break with all the weight he’s putting on it! Both of his hands pinning you down, burying every last inch of his cock inside of you.
He scoffs, nudging for you to close your thighs, then planting his knees right next to yours so they stay that way. “Do you want to cum?”
“…yes,” you whimper.
“Then fucking arch it.”
You sniffle. “Okay.”
He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.
“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.
It has his attention now.
The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.
“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.
“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“
“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”
“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.
“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”
“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.
“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”
His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”
“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”
“I… I don’t know—“
“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”
“Please.”
“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”
And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.
"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”
Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.
“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”
Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.
He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.
The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.
