#Sukuna headcanons

[kashverse]

𝒴our first encounter with the 呪術廻戦 men 

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise (use of "pretty" in choso's version), strangers to lovers, fluff, featuring ♡ canon! gojo, canon! geto, single dad! toji, modern au! choso, canon! sukuna in a modern au, corporate! nanami ✿ ⪩⪨ tried a new formatting style..! ib my dear @norikuna (∩˃o˂∩)♡

gojo doesn’t see you coming. not because he’s oblivious—though, sure, that’s part of it—but because he’s too busy making himself miserable, listening to some poor bastard on the phone cry about their ex. it’s barely noon, the sun’s out, people are living their lives, and this guy’s talking about how he let “the one” slip through his fingers. “bro, just get another one,” gojo had said, dead-eyed, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. the response was more crying. he sighed, hanging up.

and then he smacked straight into you.

not a polite bump, not even a nudge—full-on body collision, your forehead meeting his chin with a sharp crack. the impact was enough to send you both stumbling, but while gojo’s built like a brick wall, you had all the misfortune of being knocked back a few steps. “ow—what the fuck?!” your voice came first, and then, through the dizzying pain, you saw him. tall, white-haired, stupidly good-looking in an insufferable way, dressed like he was on some model’s off-day. sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and even through the slight daze, you could see the sharp glint of his blue eyes peering down at you.

“ah, my bad—”

“your bad?” your voice rose, disbelieving. the pain hadn’t even settled yet, but your temper had. “you nearly took my head off!”

gojo blinked. “well, technically, if i took your head off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out. “unless you’re a talking head, which would be—"

“are you serious?” you cut him off, hands flying up in exasperation. “you’re just standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk—”

“crosswalk,” he corrected.

“—like a fucking lamppost,” you barreled on, ignoring him. “and then you hit me. no, actually, you collided with me like a fucking train, and now you’re just standing there?”

you looked ready to kill him. gojo thought you looked radiant. people don’t really yell at him. they get nervous, flustered, awkward. maybe they complain a little, but they don’t yell. not like this—not with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage that was directed solely at him.

and he was loving it.

“ohhh, you’re mad mad,” he said, grinning.

“no shit?” you spat, rubbing your forehead. “you’re huge! why do you walk like you don’t know how to control your own size?”

“i’m huge? that’s a compliment,” he mused. “also, you ran into me.”

“i did not—"

“you did, but it’s okay,” he waved off. “i forgive you.”

your mouth dropped open. your jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it click. “i don’t need your forgiveness,” you snapped. “i need you to watch where the hell you’re going!” gojo just smiled. “i can do that,” he said. “but only if you tell me your name first.”

you squinted at him. “why?”

“so i know what to say in my apology,” he said smoothly. “y’know, something heartfelt, real personal. ‘i’m so sorry, dear stranger, for running into you with my big, strong, muscular body—’”

your scowl deepened. “forget it,” you turned to leave, shaking your head.

gojo grabbed your wrist. lightly, like he was afraid you’d shake him off (which you probably would). “wait,” he said, less teasing this time, more curious.

you stopped, staring at him warily. “what?”

he grinned. “you’re fun.”

you yanked your arm out of his grip. “you’re annoying.”

but you weren’t yelling anymore. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

toji doesn't believe in love—at least, not in the way people like to romanticize it. to him, love has always been transactional. people want things: security, pleasure, a warm body to cling to at night. he provides, they take. simple.

commitment? fuck no. he’s been there, done that, and all it got him was a headache and a kid who looks at him like he’s a walking disappointment. not that he blames megumi—he knows exactly the kind of man he is. relationships, from what he's seen, are just another job. another obligation. more shit to deal with when he's already stretched thin making sure megumi doesn't starve or turn into a little menace. and he's already got enough on his plate. 

raising megumi is work. the kid is sharp, stubborn, and way too perceptive for his own good. keeping up with him is exhausting. fulfilling someone else’s expectations on top of that? hell no.

people ask if he’s lonely. he laughs. lonely? he’s got freedom. no nagging, no obligations, no answering to anyone but himself and, on the worst days, a grumpy eight-year-old who somehow thinks he’s smarter than him. love, in his experience, is just a distraction. and toji fushiguro doesn’t do distractions.

and toji swears he only looked away for a second.

he was just checking the damn price tag on some overpriced brand of instant noodles, and when he looked back, megumi was gone. poof. like a magic trick, except it wasn’t a trick, and the rising panic in his chest was very, very real. “shit,” he muttered, scanning the aisles. nothing. just a bunch of old ladies and college kids looking for cheap meals. no messy black hair, no tiny scowl. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. he didn’t want to make a scene. people lost their kids all the time, right? it wasn’t a big deal. he just had to—

and then he saw him.

megumi was at the end of the next aisle, small hands clenched at his sides, his mouth pressed in a thin, stubborn line, like he wasn’t scared, even though he definitely was. and right next to him, crouched down to his level, was you. “you’re really good at this,” you said. megumi blinked up at you. “huh?”

“the whole ‘not panicking’ thing,” you smiled at him. “most kids freak out when they lose their parents. you’re staying calm. that’s cool.” megumi looked away, like he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or not. “i don’t wanna cause trouble,” he muttered.

“aw, but that’s what parents are for,” you teased. “causing them trouble.” megumi almost smiled. almost. toji, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. who the hell were you?

“c’mon, let’s go find your dad,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand. megumi didn’t take it, but he followed you anyway, his short legs working hard to keep up with your pace. and toji? well. he wasn’t sure why, but instead of stepping forward, he let you find him.

he let you do the whole thing, watching as you walked with megumi, asking him questions—where he last saw his dad, what his name was, what he looked like.

“he’s really tall,” megumi said. you hummed. “tall, huh? that helps.”

“and he’s got a scar on his mouth,” he added.

“even better. anyone who looks scary is easier to spot.”

megumi frowned a little. “he’s not scary.” you smiled, ruffling his hair. “i bet he isn’t.”

toji snorted under his breath.

by the time you turned the corner and finally spotted him, megumi exhaled in relief. toji pretended not to notice how fast he ran up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like he wasn’t just saying how calm he was. you, on the other hand, stopped a few steps away, hands on your hips. “you must be the scary, not-scary dad,” you said.

toji raised an eyebrow. “and you’re just a random saint, huh?” you shrugged. “not a saint. just someone who doesn’t like seeing kids upset.”

he looked at you, really looked at you. you didn’t seem put out by any of this, like helping some stranger’s kid wasn’t an inconvenience, but just another part of your day. like it was normal. toji let out a breath, then tilted his head down at megumi. “you good, kid?”

megumi nodded, though he still wasn’t letting go of toji’s shirt. toji sighed, glancing back at you. “guess i owe you, huh?”

you waved him off. “don’t worry about it. just keep an eye on him next time.”

toji huffed a laugh. “easier said than done.”

you grinned, giving megumi one last look before turning to leave. and toji? well. maybe being responsible for two people wouldn’t be so bad after all.

nanami never thought much about being single. it wasn’t a matter of pride or principle—just reality. his job was time-consuming, his patience was thin, and the thought of entertaining someone else’s needs after a long workday felt exhausting. he wasn’t lonely, just… fine. indifferent.

until he got sick of his office food.

“this is inedible,” he said flatly, staring at the sad excuse of a meal on his plate. his colleague, barely looking up from his own tray, mumbled, “it’s fine.”

nanami’s eye twitched. it was not fine. rubbery chicken, dry rice, and a soup that tasted more like dishwater than anything edible. this was not a meal—it was a punishment.

so, he made a change.

he found a small business that delivered homemade meals, something personal but convenient. it promised variety, quality ingredients, and, most importantly, flavor.

what he didn’t expect were the notes.

the first one came tucked under the neatly packed meal.

“hope today isn’t too exhausting! eat well!”

nanami stared at it for longer than he should have. then, at the food—real food. properly cooked, properly seasoned, steaming with warmth that no canteen meal could ever replicate. he didn’t think about it much. a kind gesture, that was all. but the notes kept coming.

“long meetings? i packed extra today.”

“rainy day! hope this brings some warmth.”

“rough week? your food will always be good at least.”

and then—

“your order is always so precise. you must be someone who likes routine.”

nanami paused mid-bite. he did like routine. he thrived on it. and yet, this—this unexpected kindness, these little messages—was beginning to throw him off in a way he couldn’t explain. weeks passed, meals came, and nanami found himself looking forward to them—not just for the food, but for the words that came with it. one afternoon, after another insufferable meeting, he opened his meal to find:

“do you ever take breaks? hope you’re not working too hard.”

he let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. he was working too hard. but how did you—someone he’d never met—seem to know that better than the people around him? finally, curiosity got the better of him. he grabbed a pen and, for the first time, wrote back.

“who are you?”

the next day, his meal came with a note, just like always.

“just someone who wants you to eat well. but i wouldn’t mind knowing who you are too.”

and for the first time in a long time, nanami thought—maybe being single wasn’t so fine after all.

geto doesn’t believe in love. not in the way people romanticize it, anyway. he’s known desire—used it, wielded it like a tool, a means to an end. a well-timed smile, a hand grazing a wrist, a whispered promise—all of it was just another step in expanding his cause. people were easy to sway when you made them feel special. and being single? it wasn’t something he mourned. it was efficient. no attachments, no complications, no wasted energy. everything he did, every conversation, every encounter—it all served a purpose.

until you.

“you’ve been talking for a while,” you said, tilting your head at him. geto smiled. “am i boring you?”

“not at all. just wondering if you’re going to get to the point.”

he chuckled, swirling his drink. clever. impatient. interesting.

“what do you think my point is?”

you leaned back, thoughtful. “well, you’re charming, you have that practiced ease of someone who’s very used to getting what they want, and yet…” you narrowed your eyes. “you haven’t tried to get anything from me yet.”

his smile twitched. perceptive too. “maybe i’m just enjoying the conversation.”

“hmm.” you didn’t look convinced. “i doubt you talk to people without a reason.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you wound me. am i not allowed to simply appreciate good company?”

you smirked. “do you?”

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he did.

he was supposed to be recruiting you. that was why he approached you in the first place—he had assessed, observed, picked you out for your potential. another piece in his grander vision. but now? now, he was talking to you about books, about philosophy, about things that had nothing to do with his cause.

he liked your sharp tongue, your quick comebacks, the way you saw through people but humored them anyway. and he was enjoying this. more than he should.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you noted.

“am i?”

“yeah. for someone who flirts so easily, you seem oddly distracted.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. you had no idea. for the first time in a long time, geto suguru had forgotten his purpose. and strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

choso doesn’t really get love. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it—he does, deeply, messily, all-consuming in the way only someone who has lived too long without it can. it’s just that he doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. his friends talk about relationships like they’re puzzles, like you’re supposed to fit into someone else’s life piece by piece, no gaps, no edges sticking out. but choso? he keeps forcing the wrong pieces together. he’s had his heart broken by so many situationships, and he doesn’t even know what that word means. all he knows is that people like him enough to stay for a while, but not enough to stay forever. and when someone ghosts him? it’s over.

“why would they do that?” he asks yuuji, completely distraught. “i thought we were getting along.” yuuji winces. “yeah, but… sometimes people just disappear, man. it’s not your fault.”

“but why not just say they don’t like me?”

“because people suck.”

choso frowns. love is confusing. people are confusing. nothing makes sense.

until he meets you.

more specifically, until you send a pug flying in his direction. one second, he’s minding his own business, sipping a coffee, staring blankly at nothing. the next—

“watch out!”

and then—THUD.

a very round, very squishy pug collides with his chest, knocking the air out of him. he blinks. looks down. the pug is fine. choso, however, is shaken.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you pant, running up to him, looking horrified. “he’s got the speed of a missile and the weight distribution of a sack of potatoes. are you okay?”

choso is still holding the pug. he has not processed a single thing except that you’re talking to him, and you’re really pretty. you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“hello? earth to guy who just got body slammed by my dog?”

he swallows. “i—i’m okay.”

you sigh in relief. “good. i don’t think my insurance covers ‘pug-related assaults.’”

he stares. then—

he laughs.

it’s an awkward, slightly delayed laugh, but it’s real. it bubbles out of him, because suddenly, everything is just… simple. you’re still talking, apologizing, trying to pry your dog from his grip, and he realizes—love doesn’t have to be this big, complicated thing. it can be a stranger, a runaway pug, and a stupidly perfect moment where he thinks, 'oh. this is it.'

sukuna has never cared for love. love is mortal, fleeting, an indulgence for the weak. he has lived for centuries without it, conquered, destroyed, thrived—all on his own. why bother with attachment? why waste time on something that promises nothing but vulnerability? he’s always been perfectly fine like this.

until the night he meets you at the bar.

he doesn’t even mean to notice you at first—just another human in a crowded room, laughing, talking, lighting up the space with an ease he’s never possessed. 

and then he hears you speak. your voice is smooth, effortless, like you’re meant to be heard. every sentence flows into the next, words never fumbling, never uncertain. you make people laugh, pull them in, keep them hanging on to every syllable. sukuna watches, listens, enthralled, before someone leans in and calls you by name—your full name. followed by—

“aren’t you that talk show host?”

and it clicks. you are. he’s seen your face before, flickering on a television screen, a passing glimpse at a life so far removed from his own.

and now he’s irritated. because you talk so easily with everyone but him. and that won’t do.

so he tries. for the first time in centuries, he tries to talk to someone—like a normal person, like it’s something he’s done before, like it’s as easy as you make it look.

but it’s not. it’s a disaster.

he waits until the crowd around you has thinned, takes the seat next to you, and—

“so.” he clears his throat. “you talk to people for a living.”

you turn, blinking, mildly amused. “i do.”

he nods, confident. good start. then nothing. his mind goes blank. shit.

you raise a brow, waiting. sukuna glares at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “how do you do it?”

you tilt your head. “do what?” he gestures vaguely. “talk. keep people engaged.”

you blink. “are you asking me how to hold a conversation?”

his jaw tenses. “no.”

you laugh. he scowls.

he tries again. “what makes a good interview?”

“oh, that’s easy,” you hum. “you have to be genuinely interested in the other person.”

he deadpans.

you smirk. “which means you have to actually listen to what they’re saying.”

“i listen,” he grumbles.

“really?” you lean in. “then what were we just talking about?”

silence. your smirk widens. “you weren’t listening.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. this is hell.

but he keeps trying. keeps failing, keeps making an idiot of himself, keeps suffering through every one of your knowing smiles—because for the first time in his miserable, ancient existence, he actually wants to learn.

he wants to talk to you.

and maybe, just maybe, he wants you to talk to him, too.

[paranoiddreams]

prev⟺next

Being Sukuna’s girlfriend is not always easy. He’s the type to show his love rarely, but when he does, it’s aggressive, to say the least.

You’ll often wake up with his large hand wrapped around your neck, his warm fingers just long enough to reach around your entire throat. At first, it was startling—a demon man you just started dating who shows basically no affection is choking you in your sleep? Was he trying to kill you and just got tired half way through??

All of your questions cease although, the moment you find out why he does this. You decided to pretend to be asleep one night as you were lying in his royal chambers, covered in love bites from moments before when he decided to suckle and nip at your skin—another strange way he shows his love for you. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as you hear him walk out of the bathroom, knowing he’s just finished brushing his teeth and is now ready for bed.

The mattress dips when he lies down next to you, inches away at first, but when you feel his large frame hover over your face to make sure you’re asleep, he moves right up against your back. You’re surprised to feel one of his muscular arms wrap tightly around your waist, the other reaching under your head so that you’re essentially using him as a pillow. His chest rumbles lowly when his hand moves below your chin, fingers carefully wrapping around your throat as usual.

You’re waiting for a squeeze, the tip of one of his nails jutting into your skin, or even a few harsh words in your ear. But all you feel next is his fingers tightening slowly, the tip of his index hovering just above your pulse point, before pressing into your soft, pliant skin. You feel your heart race against the pad of his finger, then another rumble from his chest against your back.

“Mine,” he whispers gently, before running his thumb over the soft edge of your jawline. He then presses one last kiss to the top of your head before lying his head down and closing his eyes.

Let’s just say, you never question his weird, sometimes animalistic, possession over you; because in reality, he’s just a big guy who doesn’t know how to express his unyielding love for you.

It’s givinggggggg tiger!sukuna. Should I…explore the waters of that concept more? I probably will despite the reaction to this💪🏻🫡

[salsakiyoomi]

“do you think we're soulmates in every universe?” 

you ask, snuggling up to sukuna, on your king sized bed — you had been served dinner and sukuna bas gone through his reports and duties as king, and now it was his sacred time with you.

“we aren't in this one.” he scoffs, wrapping his arm around you.

you pout at him, mildly offended but you expected nothing less from the ‘heartless’ king of curses, “what makes you say so?”

“i don't believes in such foolish nonesense.” he says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“it's not foolish nonesense.” you argue, tracing lines on his chest absentmindedly, admiring his sculpted form.

“and what makes you say that?” he asks, mocking your earlier question.

you smile at him, “i mean, do you not feel a connection between us? a binding of souls? i know you love me and i’m sure you know that we are meant to be in every universe.”

“don't put words in my mouth, woman.” he huffs, caressing your shoulder.

you laugh — you know that while he might have not said it before, he most definitely thinks and feels it.

and it's true, sukuna had first fallen for you for your otherworldly beauty, and had chosen you for marriage, and that was that for a while until he started falling for you.

you, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about something that you love, the way you always showered him with loving words and affection that was always so foreign to him.

but he slowly started getting used to it, even reciprocating it in his own way.

“whatever you say, ryo.” you finally say, smiling sheepishly at him before blowing out the candle and rolling on your side, “goodnight.”

“hm.” he huffs, wrapping all four arms around you before slowly drifting into sleep, his mind swarmed with thoughts about how your souls could possibly be tied.

foolish thoughts, for him maybe, but maybe it was also true

because, sometime, centuries later, in the middle of tokyo in a small business coffeeshop, sukuna meets you — the all time business ceo, falls for the loving and bubbly batista who always left him notes on his morning coffee.

and he falls for you all over again.

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw suggestive, fluff, mdni

Nobody likes your mean bf sukuna, except you, of course.

You knew he didn't stand much of a chance with your friends and family with his tattoos and resting bitch face. Add to that his gruff demeanor and tendency to remain (somehow aggressively?) silent except to bark orders or hurl insults, and your loved ones are regularly pulling you to the side and whispering their concerns into your ear.

They don't like the way he talks to you. They don't like the way his hulking form sticks to you like a dark shadow, never letting you out of his sight. They don't like the possessive way he paws at you, heedless of his audience. It's disrespectful.

"You deserve better."

"Why do you let him treat you like that?"

"If this is what he's like in public, I'd hate to see what he's like behind closed doors."

Oh, you're quite sure they would hate to see it.

"Get it yourself," you say, when he interrupts your family dinner to demand you bring him a beer. "And get a dog if you want something to bark at."

The scraping of his chair against the floor is absurdly loud in the otherwise silent room. Your family exchanges uncomfortable glances as he rises and stalks into the adjacent kitchen.

"Everything okay with you guys?" Your sister asks, touching the back of your hand.

"Toxic," somebody else whispers.

They don't see the way he looks at you, the way he smirks over his shoulder. They don't understand that he bites so you'll bite back. They don't see the way his heavy hand lays across your thigh, inching slowly upward even as you smile around a mouthful of pasta.

"Thought they'd never leave," he sighs, pulling you into his lap the second you return from seeing them out.

"You realize an hour is on the shorter side for a family gathering?"

"Short?" He grumbles, his hands warm as they glide up your back under your top.

"If you'd be nice they'd stay longer," you whisper, lips grazing his neck.

"What have I told you about threatening me?" He growls, standing suddenly and dragging you with him as you shreik and struggle weakly in his tattooed arms.

He takes you to the bedroom to teach you a lesson, but you never do learn.

[kbwrites]

You climb into bed, Sukuna’s large body sinking into the space next to you.

You curl into his broad chest, making yourself comfortable. His four arms hold you tight against him, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth.

“Good night, Kuna~” you coo, snuggling closer into his embrace.

“Good night, brat.” he mumbles, nuzzling his face into your hair. He waits expectantly, growing slightly irritated at your silence.

“Hey...” he frowns, squeezing you tight—your soft snores making him more frustrated.

How did he get stuck with such a disrespectful human?

He shook you gently.

“Wake. Up.” His voice low and commanding, with a hint of impatience.

Your eyes flutter open from the rocking motion, you look up at your boyfriend confused.

“What happened?” You question, eliciting an eye roll and dramatic huff from the larger man.

“You did not give me a proper good night.” He mumbles, gaze not meeting yours. Your eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“I said good night… oh!” You reach up to peck his cheek, he grunts in response. “Sorry—“

“No.” He sneers, tightening his grip on you. “You are forgetting something else.”

“Say good night… correctly.” You can almost make out a pout forming on his lips. Your eyes widen in realization, a grin spreading across your face.

“The hell’s wrong with your face—“

“Good night Kuna.. I Love You.”

He grunts, the tension in his body easing slightly, loosening his grip on you as he takes a deep breath.

“Do not forget again.”

[theorphicangel]

trying to convince bf! sukuna to do the TikTok challenge to the Sabrina carpenter song lyrics of “ a boy who’s jacked and kind” whilst he picks you up.

Yeah , your boyfriend isn’t too kind but you know he fits the jacked description pretty perfectly.

“No.”

“Pleaseeeeee, I’ll blur out your face.”

“No.” He pouts, frowning at his phone. He was sat on the couch, mindlessly scrolling. Of course he saw the trend but he had no interest in following stupid things he saw on the internet. He could pick you up easily but why should he have to prove it to the internet?

“If you’re too weak to pick me up then that’s okay I’ll just find someone who can…maybe satoru’s free—“

Sukuna’s head snaps up from his phone, immediately raging at the thought.

“Like hell you will, Go get your phone.”

[shebrewscoffee]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ sukuna ryomen wasn’t used to feeling guilty, but the moment he saw the hurt flash in your eyes when you guys got into a pretty heated argument, he knew he had taken things too far.

the way his own sharp tongue had driven you to silence.

you made him weak. he had always thought vulnerability was pathetic, yet here he was, fists clenched as he watched you step away, regretting every sharp word he had thrown at you.

he vowed to never let those pathetic tears clouding your eyes ever again.

the sight of you curled beneath the blanket, your shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs, made him pause. sukuna’s brows drew together as he opened his mouth, but the words failed him.

his pride made it difficult, but eventually, he managed to whisper, “i didn’t mean it.” the raw sincerity in his voice was enough to make your heart ache. however, your fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve, any excuse to ignore the weight of his presence beside you.

when you refused to look at him, he simply grabbed you and settled you into his lap, resting his chin on your head with a quiet sigh and shifted, pressing you flush against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat pulsed under your touch.

his fingers twitched at his sides before he hesitantly reached out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb, his usual arrogance nowhere to be found.

finally, he muttered, “...i shouldn’t have said that,” voice low but sincere. another sighed and he leaned in, pressing a firm yet lingering kiss to your forehead. his palm remained on your waist, as though savoring the contact

sukuna didn’t say anything. he just looked at you — eyes laced with regret and a depth of emotion words could never capture.

sukuna had held many things in his life — power, destruction, fear. but this? this quiet, fragile thing between you, where silence spoke louder than words, where his grip on you felt more like an anchor than a restraint; this was something else entirely.

and for once, he didn’t know whether to embrace it or run from it. by silently saying, i don’t want to lose you.

after cupping your face and pressing a lingering kiss against your lips, sukuna’s voice dropped to a low murmur, rough yet laced with something almost uncertain.

“does this mean i'm forgiven?”

it wasn’t teasing, nor was it smug; just quiet, almost reluctant, as if he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

“no,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

“tch. brat.” his grip on your face tightened slightly; not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who you were dealing with. then, without warning, he kissed you again, deeper this time, as if daring you to say it again.

when he pulled back, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “try saying that again, darling.”

[deathofacupid]

sukuna who hates nicknames. he thinks they're dumb, and doesn't want anyone shortening his name. and why would they? it would be nothing more than dulling his glory, and that was treacherous.

but, on everything that was holy, he hated when you called him 'sukuna'. just couldn't handle it, what a baby, huh? it just felt too informal, like you were just some person.

which you weren't. you were everything to him, the only measly human he'd ever allow in his presence. so, yeah, you got privileges.

"sukuna?" you'd ask, sometimes, wanting his attention. maybe you wanted him to look at this cute pair of boots you found, or a funny cat video.

he would ignore you.

you'd try again, "sukuna?" you think he hasn't heard you, but you can see his eyebrow twitch. "su- oh, my god. 'kuna. ryo. baby. darling. my precious."

and then, he'd look up. "yes, petal?"

"you're such a baby, you know that?"

"do you dare insult me?"

"yes," you deadpan. "now come over here, you big baby."

"tch. manners."

"please, come over here, you big baby."

doesn't matter, he would have succumbed to you, one way or another. he's weak for you like that.

[xhyjin]

heian era sukuna as a husband!

husband sukuna! who first saw you by the river near your village, washing your hair under the soft glow of the setting sun. the peaceful moment didn’t last long; one of his cursed spirits emerged from the shadows, plucking you from the water like prey and tossing you onto his horse. before you could even scream, you were taken to his cursed shrine high in the mountains, a dark and eerie place where countless other frightened girls from distant villages had been gathered, all trembling in the presence of the king of curses.

husband sukuna! who you had heard countless stories about him in your village, the king of curses, a monstrous being with unmatched power. you always thought they were just myths to keep children from wandering too far. yet, when you finally saw him in all his terrifying glory, his four arms and four sets of piercing eyes radiating an otherworldly dominance, fear wasn’t the first thing you felt. instead, it was curiosity. unlike the other girls who cowered and sobbed, you couldn’t help but step closer and ask, “can i touch you?” your boldness caught him off guard, the faintest flicker of intrigue crossing his face, a reaction he hadn’t shown to anyone in centuries.

husband sukuna! who found himself so intrigued by how someone like you, so small, so mortal, did not tremble in fear. instead, your soft hands reached out, touching his face and arms as if he were some kind of untouchable deity carved from stone, not the monstrous king of curses. he didn’t even realize he had agreed to let you touch him until your fingertips brushed against his skin, your curiosity pulling him into a moment he couldn’t understand.

husband sukuna! who picked you out of all the other frightened girls, initially seeking only a concubine to satisfy his desires, but something shifted when he met you. there was something about your calm, unshaken presence that stirred something in him. you, unlike the others, didn’t cower in fear. you didn’t beg for mercy. your boldness, your curiosity; it intrigued him, and for the first time, he found himself considering you not as just another possession, but as something more. a wife, not a concubine.

husband sukuna! who throws the most lavish wedding the heian lands have ever seen, inviting even the emperor to show off his new wife, his queen of curses. it’s a grand event, full of gold, decorations, and luxury, but all eyes are on you, his chosen, the woman who stood by him, not as a fearful servant, but as his equal. you, his queen, now dressed in the finest clothes, a symbol of his power and the bond between you.

husband sukuna! who started to feel this strange pull every time you were near, like you were the only thing that could fill the emptiness in his heart. he didn’t understand it, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to keep you close, even if it meant pretending he didn’t care.

husband sukuna! who would rarely show it, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, like he was studying you, learning you. he couldn’t stop himself from being drawn to you, no matter how much he tried to act indifferent.

husband sukuna! who started questioning everything he knew about emotions, especially when it came to you. every time you were near, his heart would beat faster, and he didn’t know if it was anger or something else. he wasn’t used to feeling this way, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

husband sukuna! who, despite his power, couldn’t control the strange desire to protect you. he didn’t know why, but when danger approached, he felt this overwhelming urge to make sure nothing touched you, even if it meant putting himself at risk.

husband sukuna! who started seeking your company more often, even when it wasn’t necessary. he would pretend it was for something else, like business or duty, but deep down, he just wanted to be near you, to figure out what it was about you that made him feel this way.

husband sukuna! who never expected to find someone who could make him question everything, someone who didn’t fear him the way others did. you were the only one who didn’t tremble when he looked at you, and that intrigued him more than anything else.

husband sukuna! who, without realizing it, started to crave your touch. at first, it was just the occasional brush of your hand, but soon he found himself seeking out those moments, lingering just a little longer than necessary, wanting to feel the warmth of your skin against his.

husband sukuna! who never thought he’d want to spend time with someone like this, but with you, it felt different. he started planning small things just to see you. whether it was a casual walk or sitting together in the garden. he didn’t need a reason; he just wanted to be near you.

husband sukuna! when, during one of your strolls through the garden, you mentioned how much you loved roses (or any flowers you like) he made a mental note of it. the very next month, the entire garden was filled with roses, rows upon rows of them, in every color, and bloom. it was his way of showing you he was listening, even if he never said it aloud. the roses, a silent gesture of his affection, were now there just for you.

husband sukuna! who makes sure all your kimonos are made from the finest and silkiest silk, each one carefully chosen to complement your beauty. your combs, made from the finest bamboo, are crafted with delicate precision, perfect for brushing your long, flowing hair. he ensures that every little detail of your life is as luxurious as possible, from the softest cushions to the finest food, all to spoil you in ways you never imagined. every item, every gesture, is his way of showing how much you mean to him, even if he never says it outright.

husband sukuna! who found himself realizing just how head over heels he was for you when you had to leave his estate to visit your family in the village. the moment you left, an unexpected emptiness washed over him, and he realized how much he missed you already. it was then that he wondered, if I miss you this badly just when you’re at the village, what would I do if you were gone forever? he couldn’t shake the thought. you weren’t immortal like him, and the idea of losing you, someone so human, so delicate, filled him with a kind of fear he never expected to feel.

husband sukuna! who tries to figure out every possible way to make you immortal like him. he couldn’t imagine his life without you, and the thought of losing you one day terrified him more than he’d ever admit. he searched for solutions, delving into ancient texts and forbidden rituals, determined to find a way to keep you by his side forever. the idea of you growing old and leaving him, or even worse, being with someone else, was unbearable. he would do anything to make sure that never happened.

husband sukuna! who, after much searching, discovers that the key to making you immortal like him is by carrying his heir. his immortal blood would imprint on you and his child, ensuring that you would live on, as long as his bloodline continued. when you return, he is sure to tell you of his plan, his determination clear in his eyes. it’s the only way he can guarantee you’ll never leave him, and the thought of sharing his immortal legacy with you fills him with an overwhelming sense of purpose.

husband sukuna! who is the happiest man—or curse—alive when uraume tells him that you are pregnant. a rare, genuine smile spreads across his face, one that few have ever seen. the news fills him with a sense of pride and joy he’s never known, and for once, his usual calm demeanor cracks. the idea of you carrying his child, an heir to his immortal blood, makes him feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. it’s as if everything he’s done, all his power and control, has led to this moment. you, carrying his legacy, makes him feel more alive than he ever has.

husband sukuna! who spoils you rotten throughout your whole pregnancy, making sure you’re eating well and getting everything you need. he hunts himself, ensuring you have the freshest, most protein-rich food, and even arranges for the finest fruits to be delivered from the emperor’s lands. he may or may not have threatened the emperor into compliance, but it didn’t matter. all that mattered was making sure you were well cared for and that nothing, not even a tiny discomfort, would touch you. your well-being was his top priority, and he would go to any lengths to ensure you and the baby were healthy.

husband sukuna! who doesn’t allow you to walk on your own, no, he has four arms for a reason. you’re going to be carried by him everywhere and anywhere. whether it’s across the estate or through the garden, he insists on carrying you in his arms, making sure you don’t lift a finger. he doesn’t care if it’s impractical or if anyone else thinks it’s too much, his only concern is making sure you’re comfortable and safe during your pregnancy, and he enjoys having you close to him at all times. no one else gets to have you but him.

husband sukuna! who has a small throne made for your baby, placing it beside his massive one. with your and his child’s thrones on either side of his, he feels a sense of contentment that he’s never known before. it’s a simple gesture, but it means everything to him, his family, his legacy, all sitting together with him in his domain. the sight of it fills him with pride, knowing that soon, your child will sit there beside you, carrying on his immortal bloodline. it’s the perfect symbol of everything he’s built, and it’s all for you.

[kashverse]

“i don’t get you,” sukuna mutters, arms resting on his knees as he stares at your cat, who sits primly on the floor, tail flicking lazily. “you’re small. your head is tiny. you have no claws worth a damn, and yet you strut around like you own this place.”

your cat blinks at him slowly. the audacity.

“oh, so now you’re being mysterious? yeah, real intimidating, runt,” sukuna scoffs, leaning in. “tell me, why the hell do you scream at five in the morning for no reason?”

your cat meows. sukuna nods, as if that was an actual answer.

“nah, i don’t buy it. i know when someone’s bullshitting me.” he strokes his chin, as if deep in thought. “and what’s with the scratching? you have a whole damn tree to tear up, but no, it’s gotta be the couch, huh? or my chair. my throne in this shitty modern world.”

your cat remains utterly unfazed, licking a paw and dragging it over its ear. sukuna clicks his tongue in frustration.

“you think you’re untouchable. you think you can do whatever you want just ‘cause you’re small and cute?” he narrows his eyes. “you remind me of someone.”

you narrow your eyes right back from your hiding spot behind the doorway. excuse me?

but sukuna is too deep in his investigation to notice. he gestures toward your phone lying face-down on the table. “and what’s with you and cameras huh? every time there’s a flash, you go feral. you act like you’re being dragged to hell.”

your cat’s ears twitch. a clear tell.

“ohhhh,” sukuna smirks, leaning in like he’s caught onto something juicy. “what, you got a dark past? you some kinda criminal? don’t want your face out there ‘cause you’re on a hit list?”

the cat swipes at sukuna’s knee, and he actually pulls back with a scoff. “oi, don’t get violent with me, brat. i asked a simple question.”

you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“i should make you my disciple,” sukuna suddenly muses, tilting his head as he assesses the feline before him. “you got the attitude down. the little mind games. yeah�� you could be something great.”

your cat sneezes.

sukuna frowns, as if personally offended. “...you’re turning down my offer? just like that?”

he sits back with a dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “unbelievable. you’re worse than your owner.”

excuse me again???

before you can march in and object, your cat gets up, stretches leisurely, and then—just to really assert dominance—turns around and sticks its tail right in sukuna’s face before trotting off.

he stares after it, jaw clenched, eye twitching.

“…i’m gonna eat it.”

you finally lose the battle against your laughter.

[paranoiddreams]

Sukuna is just so amazed by how wet you get for him. Ever since he first saw your pussy, throbbing and radiating arousing heat, he knew that he finally had a slice of heaven.

“Baby, how come you didn’t tell me you got this wet and needy sooner??”

“I…didn’t know I did?”

You’re just utterly confused by how much he LOVES the way you look, taste, sound, even smell—you can’t wrap your head around it, you’ve always thought that you had an average, normal, sexual desire, but then you met Sukuna.

“God, you’re so fucking warm; so fucking sticky and wet—fuck!” He’d growl in your ear as he pounds into you from above, his hands pressing your thighs against your chest.

“K-kuna! Stop, I’m making a mess,” you cry, “w-we just changed the sheets!”

Sukuna will just laugh—like genuinely laugh—and look at you through heavy lidded eyes, not stopping his brutal pace for a moment.

“And we’ll change ‘em again—I wanna see you make a fucking mess~”

[salsakiyoomi]

“you tempt me.”

sukuna says as you walk into the chamber, in nothing but a thin nightgown that clings to all the right places and leaves little to the imagination.

“...i didn't do anything?” you say, confused as you dry your hair with a towel and make your way over to the mattress where he is laying on his side of the bed.

“everything you do is tempting.” he says pointedly.

“i'm not sure whether this is an insult or a compliment.” you respond, smiling at him.

he stares at you for a few moments, and although he would never admit it — he admires the way you look, the curve of your lips, your flushed cheeks, your eyes and the way they sparkle, the way your damp hair frames your face — everything about you was just so tempting. that's the only way he could describe it.

and god, not to mention your body — your curves and contours and the thin nightgowns you usually wear that highlight your body so irresistibly.

“ryo,” you coo softly as you notice his lingering gaze, “what’s on your mind?”

“why must you infuriate me?” he asks, and you quirk an eyebrow, letting out a surprised laugh, “i literally didn't do anything.”

he scoffs — even the way you laugh was tempting him, and it wasn't in a bad way.

maybe that's what infuriates him.

it's sickening, the hold you have on him.

“ryo,” you coo again, and he scoffs again, “call me that one more time.” he warns and you laugh once more.

“c'mere.” you hum, climbing on his lap and instinctively his hands come at your hips, gripping and kneading the soft flesh gently.

your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him closer, pecking his lips for a moment and sukuna tries to convince himself that there is no growing heat on his face.

you pull away after a moment, resting your forehead against his as his gaze bores into you and he ignores the increasing speed of his heart.

he scoffs, “temptation.”

taglist : @samaraxmorgan

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: fluff, suggestive, mdni

You really threw a wrench in mean bf sukuna's plans when you totally forgot about Valentine's day. You told him from the start that you didn't care about stuff like that, but he thought you were just playing the Cool Girl™. Realistically, all girls care about that shit. It's ingrained in their fluffy, pink, little brains, right? You're going to be mad as hell when he tricks you into believing he's completely ignored your first Valentine's day together.

That works just fine for mean bf sukuna, who just so happens to think you're super hot when you're mad. So, he ignores you all day while he shops. He smirks to himself as he thinks about how you must be scowling at your phone screen, waiting for a text that never comes. He outright laughs when he imagines the shock on your face when you see what he has planned for you. Maybe you'll do that thing where you bang your fists on his chest while he pulls your body against his. Maybe your eyes will be shiny with tears when you look up at him and say, "I thought you forgot!"

Turns out he's the one scowling at the screen when the whole day passes without a peep from you until you text him "picking me up?" Just before your shift ends.

"Yeah, I guess," he grumbles as he types it out. What kind of passive aggressive, feminine sorcery is this anyway?

His scowl only deepens as he listens to you chatter on about your busy day the whole ride home. You don't seem angry at all. In fact, you plop down next to him on the couch, as usual, practically sitting on top of him as you giggle at the TV and dig into your dinner. You don't even notice that he hasn't touched his own food. He's actually getting pissed in a serious way. And he looks it, even more so than usual, you notice. You fucking finally notice. "What's your problem?" You ask around a mouthful of your favorite takeout.

"Tch, nothing," he says, crossing his arms and looking away. Is he... is he really pouting?

"If you say so," you shrug. You know better than to press him too much, unless you want him angrier and even less prone to discussion. "I'm gonna get changed," you say as you stand to head towards the bedroom.

"No!" He says, just a little too loud.

"Why not?" You ask narrowing your eyes at him over your shoulder.

He would have physically stopped you, but you're a little too small and a little too quick not to slip through his grasping fingers.

"What's all this?" You ask, standing in your bedroom doorway staring at the array of pink and red bags, flowers, your favorite candies and snacks.

mean bf sukuna winces at the sight of the veritable mountain of gifts he had spent the day heaping on the linens. He may have gotten a little carried away, but he kept thinking of things. That bag you pointed out at the mall. And the necklace. And the sunglasses. Then he remembered you said you wanted to go to that concert, so he got tucked the tickets into your card. Then he thought you'd want to wear those shoes you pointed out.

"Oh, my god," you say in a small voice. "It's Valentine's day. I totally forgot."

You turn to him, but the apology that was on your lips dies in a fit of laughter when you see his face is as red as the gift wrap.

"You'll pay for that, brat," he growls as he tosses you right on top of the pile, fully intent on getting his money's worth out of you.

[ccarlislecc]

♡ the newlyweds ♡ ♡ you thought maybe your husband's insatiable appetite would cool down after the first few days of being married, but if anything, it’s getting worse ♡ kamo choso, nanami kento, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, fushiguro toji author's note: men who are so painfully downbad for their wife = girl dinner, enjoy!! mdni please!!

choso's gone this long without having sex, be prepared to make up for lost time. he isn’t super familiar with human procedures & traditions, so it wasn’t necessarily his intent to wait until marriage. he didn’t even really know what sex was until he started dating you, & you didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t comfortable with. regardless, your first time is on your wedding night. . .& your second time, & third time, & fourth. . .& so on. 

you remember faintly the first time you kissed choso, him saying that he would be happily content to kiss you & kiss you for the rest of his life. & he would’ve been, but he was too far gone know, eyes rolling back, body unable to process the immense pleasure of your cunt wrapped around him. 

his hands gripped your hips with a desperate intensity as he moved within you, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your joined bodies. choso's normally composed demeanor had completely unraveled, replaced by raw need & desire.

you ran your fingers through his long dark hair, marveling at how undone he had become. his lips found yours in a searing kiss, muffling the moans that escaped unbidden from both of your throats.

"never," he gasped against your mouth, his voice husky with passion. "never knew. . .never knew it could be like this. didn’t know it was this good."

nanami was not typically a risk taker in any form, especially when it came to his wife, but he couldn’t bear to be away from you that long. his work had not allowed him to take off as much time as he would’ve liked. his first few days back were pure torture. he focused on nothing else but the mental image of your tits bouncing as you rode him, or the way your cunt sucked in his fingers each night before he stuffed you full of his cock, or the sound of your melodious voice begging him, telling how good it was. 

so here he was, bending you over his mahogany desk (the blinds shut of course, he wasn’t that risky) wondering how he ever lived without you, without fucking you. sex had been on his mind so infrequently before you. he stroked himself off maybe once a month, or sometimes when he was drunk. but now, he had a hard time going any significant period of time without being balls deep in your sweet cunt. seeing that wedding ring on your finger, gripping onto the wood of his desk, does not help matters in the slightest. 

nanami's fingers dug into your hips as he thrust into you from behind, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your bodies. the office was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin & your muffled moans. you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, though it was a struggle with the way he was pounding into you.

"god, i've missed this," nanami groaned, his voice husky with desire. "missed my wife. your tight little cunt feels so good."

you whimpered in response, pushing back against him, desperate for more. his hand snaked around to rub your clit in tight circles, making your legs tremble.

"that's it, baby," he murmured. "come for me. let me feel you squeeze my cock."

you’re entirely unsurprised by gojo's behavior. you actually don’t think there will come a time when satoru is not desperate for you at all hours of the day. he could be mid-mission, literally killing a curse, & he’ll send some stupid horny text. "pls :( need nudes, will die without." you suppress the biggest eye roll.

your eyes are surely rolling, though, when he gets home & shows you what he’s been thinking about all day at work, what had him so worked up. . .thoughts about his pretty wife & her pretty pussy.

you can't help but smirk as satoru presses you against the wall, his lips hungry on your neck. his hands roam your body with urgent need, like he hasn't touched you in weeks rather than hours; it was only that morning that he’d stuffed his tongue in your cunt before dashing off to a meeting. "missed you," he murmurs between kisses. "couldn't focus all day."

“I couldn’t tell," you tease, recalling his stream of increasingly needy texts. "begging me for nudes didn’t tip me off at all."

he chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "can you blame me? look at you."

his hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. you can feel how hard he is already, his desire evident through his pants. "someone's excited," you whisper, nipping at his earlobe.

satoru groans, grinding against you. "you have no idea. been thinking about this all day. about you."

he groans, pressing his hips against yours. "those pictures kept me going. but the real thing is so much fucking better."

his fingers find the hem of your shirt, sliding underneath to caress bare skin. you gasp as he cups your breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

"satoru," you breathe, melting into his touch despite your earlier exasperation. he’s gotta make it up to his poor wife for leaving her home all day long. 

a week-long getaway to a penthouse with your new husband, suguru, had sounded like a dream, & of course it was, but you feared you weren’t making it out of this vacation without a positive pregnancy test. 

his hands gripped your hips with an intensity that would surely leave bruises, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. every thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, leaving you gasping and clinging to him desperately. his usual composure was completely shattered, replaced by raw need and desire.

your nails digging into his back as he drove into you relentlessly. his dark eyes were wild with lust, fixed on your flushed face.

"that's it, love," he growled, his voice husky & strained. "take all of me. let me fill you up."

your body trembled, teetering on the edge of bliss. you could feel the heat of his skin, smell his intoxicating scent, hear the low groans rumbling in his chest. it was overwhelming, consuming you entirely. the intensity of his words sent a shiver down your spine. part of you wanted to resist, to remind him of your carefully laid plans—but your body betrayed you, arching into his touch & silently begging for more. his hand slid down to caress your lower abdomen, his touch gentle despite the ferocity of his thrusts. "you'll look so beautiful," he murmured. "glowing, swollen with our baby."

you were pretty sure you’d never experienced exhaustion like this before, & yet you wouldn’t have it any other way. sukuna was practically tethered to you, night & day; you knew he exceeded the stamina of typical men, but this was setting the bar a little too high. he was breaking your poor cunt. 

"‘kuna, I c-can’t, can’t take anymore, s’too much," you’d babble each morning & each night, tears staining your pillow along with your drool, nails tearing into the sheets. you were pretty sure some of the remnants of your mascara from your wedding day still remained somewhere on your eyes, you hadn’t the time for skincare. 

"of course you can, wife. you always take me so well, like you were made for me," he purrs, chest falling over your back, pressing you into the sheets, biting the lobe of your ear, ruining you. & he was such an asshole, calling you wife, as if he cared at all for your silly little human rituals, it was just another way for him to tease you. 

"please," you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. your mind was foggy, overwhelmed by sensation.

sukuna chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through your body. "such sweet sounds you make for me, wife. I’ll never tire of them." his hand snaked around to grip your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head swim. you felt him swell inside you, somehow growing even larger. "one more," he growled. "give me one more, & I’ll let you rest."

his chuckle rumbled through you, low & dark, watching your hips draw back & forth to meet his. "see? your body knows what it needs," sukuna murmured, his breath hot against your neck.

it must have been the dress, you think a couple hours later, drifting in & out of sleep while you can. soon you'll both be ready for the nth round. or maybe the lingerie. . .you don't really know what's causing him to be this insatiable. sukuna had always loved your body, your face covered in his cum, your cunt widening around his cocks, but this. . .this was a whole new level of pussydrunk.

toji is determined to christen every goddamn inch of your apartment. it’s practically a game to him. 

"no, toji, not on the table, we eat here," you whine, but your attempts at swatting him away as he pushes you over the counter so delicately, humping your ass, groaning into his fist. he hoped there came a point when his wife’s ass didn’t make him whiney & sex-brained like a teenager, but he doubted it. 

"please, baby," he groans, mouthing at your clothed pussy. "let me taste you. I need it."

you can't help but melt at his desperation, your resolve crumbling. with shaky hands, you push your panties to the side. toji lets out a guttural moan at the sight of your glistening folds, diving in eagerly.

his tongue laps at you hungrily, like a man starved. you cry out, gripping the edge of the table for support as your knees threaten to give way. toji's large hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he devours you.

"fuck, you taste so good," he mumbles against your sensitive flesh. "never get enough of you."

♡ fin ♡

thank you for reading! comments, likes, & reblogs are so, so appreciated, but I love you non-interacting people, too ♡ here's my masterlist! mwah 🩷 xoxo, carlisle

[retiredteabag]

tracing trueform!sukuna’s markings

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Thinking about Sukuna allowing you to trace your fingers over his markings.

You were always content to simply lay with Sukuna and share each other’s presence. He spent lots of time reading, performing calligraphy, or imaging new ways to decimate opponents in battle.

He had no trouble staring off into space with that old mind that needed little for entertainment.

It likely happened the first time when you were in a drunken stupor, having never partaken in the sacred wine before, the high alcohol content took no time to invade your bloodstream.

Sukuna, of course, took notice of your open-mouthed stares. Finding your weak tolerance amusing. You looked him up and down from the space on the floor you sat upon, sharing no response when he commanded your return to his chambers.

Uraume would help you up, other servants cleaning the meal from the table. The kings would smirk at your blatant wobbling.

That evening, his spine would snap ramrod at the innocent touch of your finger. Never would he have experienced the touch of a servant that he had not demanded take place. He watched in amazement as your hands slid all the way from his bicep to his neck.

I imagine his body would jitter the way a cats does when you snake a touch down their back. He would have all four eyes on you. But you would not meet any of them. All too focused on the four large appendages you would take notice of then.

Sukuna would watch as your mouth dropped open, he would squint as you rubbed your eyes, only to find that, yes, he does, in fact, have four arms.

A small, unnoticeable smile would grace the kings lips. You, who so obediently followed his orders and payed the upmost respect. You who had been so sure that they lacked the prestige to wash their kings hair, was freely swiping their hands across his arms, as though to check if they were real.

Swaying to your knees you would leave a whisper of a touch up his chin, his jaw, under his eyes, and finally, his forehead.

I bet Sukuna would just watch you, closer than ever, as you stared at him with no hesitation to hold his gaze. His lips twitching, he would bear witness as your body lulled, eyes fluttering and with the anatomy perfect for an embrace, would allow you to nap within his frame.

[morgluvsconnie]

jjk men if someone that had their number tried to hit on them (while they’re with you) .ᐟ

(gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, ino)