#ily and take care of yourself <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[suffer-my-beloved-mutuals]

Always remember, it took 2 year olds 2 YEARS to string together these sentences, how long have you been at it?

it's been nearly a decade since i tried to learn a language and i forgot how humiliating it is when you first start. like damn there are 2 year olds who can string together more coherent sentences than me right now.

[necrotic-nephilim]

reverse robins damitim is so absolutely addicting to me for exactly the reason you listed!! I really love Tim suddenly needing to be more impressive to hear praise from Damian. we *know* Tim is smart and impressive, but now he's really willing to do as much as he can to hear that praise, and I like thinking about what mindset Tim must be in to be suddenly wanting that so much.

(I'm sorry this is short and might not be coherent, I'm currently recovering from a vaccine and am very groggy)

YEAH you get it. i think Tim as Red Hood would be a lot more vulnerable than Jason was, in seeking like? some sort of emotional reaction from Damian or Bruce aside from just "why is the Joker still alive". almost a sort of "could you still love me? even though i'm like this now and i can't go back?" complex for Red Hood!Tim could be SO fun. and combine that with a Nightwing!Damian who doesn't give any sort of praise or kind words to ppl he perceives as equals/adults it would make for a ROUGH time with Tim. the miscommunication of Damian thinking it's perfectly understood that he still loves Tim, just doesn't support his actions. whereas Tim doesn't understand why Damian is so cold with him compared to how he was when Tim was still a child in Damian's eyes. and how far Tim would go for any sort of attention or praise- a RR!DamiTim version of 'Brothers in Blood' where Jason dresses as Nightwing for Dick's attention could be SO fun. the brainrot never ends with these two. they will never see eye to eye but will always be so in love with each other. and maybe Tim could actually be good, if it just means once Damian will tell him he's proud of him. but bc he never tells Damian that's what he wants, Damian never gives it to him. endless cycle of pain <3

[lovelyoliviasblog]

You yes you seeing this 🫵

Hai I'm Olivia (he /they) this is a safe space post... :3

Here's a song to help you take a moment to relax and I hope whatever you're going through you get better soon <3

(read tags)

I'm here for y'all

@weirdsillycreature @astrodrawz @anna-cute-049 @i-am-xp-64 @m00nsworldsstuff @bricknoizez @jayceeartz @that-unspeaking-sky-kid 🫂

[formula-fun]

there's been lots of plagiarism happening in lestappen fandom lately so can you please provide evidence you wrote your fics?

Hi! i was waiting to get this since it seems like all my friends have been getting it in the last 2 minutes as well!

i recently found out that someone i thought was a fellow writer and a personal friend is in fact just a plagiarist and was lying to my face for a few weeks, so believe me when I know this issue is extremely common right now and hurts everyone, especially writers. That being said, as a writer it's pretty hurtful to just throw accusations around, and especially to mass-send them to writers' inboxes the way that you're doing. We're the ones who are the most hurt by plagiarism in communities that we trust with our work, so it's a bit ridiculous to decide we're all guilty until proven innocent, don't you think?

I would love for you to look through my fics and find anything that would suggest they've been copied from somewhere else. Given the time I put into researching irl events to include them into fics, the energy I spend on interpreting these people's personalities into fictional characterizations, and the attention to detail of settings and timelines, I think it would be pretty difficult to copy anything from another fandom. The same goes for the sole fic I've written that's a true au, and even that has enough connection to the canon (real life) that I think it's pretty obvious it wasn't copied.

That being said, you're welcome to use a plagiarism checker if you're still concerned. Believe me, I use them all the time on my own fics to make sure nobody is plagiarizing me. So far I haven't found any cases of that, but if you decide to check them and find that they've been copied to somewhere else I'll be more than happy to prove that I was the original author. It will help you, you know, actually catch a plagiarist, too, rather than just throwing accusations around left and right.

Thanks!

[causenessus]

ness!! i hope you have a nice break <3 please rest well and take good care of yourself!! don't forget to eat, drink water, and take your meds <3

thank you sav!!! i will hopefully be back soon but in the meantime please make sure to take care of yourself as well!! <3 good luck with volleyball and school and please don't get hit by another car!! /lh while i'm gone or ever!! <3

[rinhaler]

‼️‼️‼️

wow you're SO right!!

[aureatchi]

reverieeeee !! ik you're busy, so don't feel rushed into responding to this but. . . have you listened to hozier's ep?

(also, make sure you're taking care of yourself! love ya! <3)

MUSE !! sorry i got to this so late (つ﹏⊂) but YES !! i litt listened to it right after my classes were over the day of & it was SO GOOD fdjwjwj. <3 now my sideblog has a new theme ^/^ (resisting the urge to put hozier on my main)

I WAS SO HAPPY FOR TOO SWEET (acc btw i have a rly good fic idea 4 this if i’m not shy i’ll stop by your dms soon…), but oh my gosh EMPIRE NOW !! ᰔ i was not ready for tht, it sounds so powerful to me & when he hits the high note w/ “sun coming up…” WOW. supernal !! wildflower & barley ‘n farewell were so good too…like you said, practically anything he makes is amazing <3

[willowdied]

im home im doing it im WRITING .

[conjectureand-gloom]

happy easter, or if you don’t celebrate, enjoy the long weekend! and in case you haven’t heard this in a while, you’re so strong, even if you don’t need to be. i love you, my dog loves you, and you’re doing so amazingly, and i’m so proud of you.

remember to take breaks when you need them, and if you haven’t eaten in a while, go get a snack, or go get some water if you haven’t had a drink recently! take care of yourself!

okay mwah!!

[chappellrroan]

Hi I haven't talked to you in so long I miss you ily happy new year

finally you're back, henlo ilyt and happy new year. Also you managed to stay away for long this time, everything good???

[ghost-proofbaby]

hey this may be an odd question to ask someone but how do u deal with stress and anxiety? i’ve always had anxiety but it hasn’t been this bad in a long long time. it’s prolly bc midterm exam season is starting for me and i have my first exam tmrw. but yeah my old techniques for managing this isn’t working as well and i was wondering if you had any advice?

(you don’t have to answer this if it’s too personal, so sorry if it’s weird)

absolutely not an odd question!

truthfully, it changes often, especially depending on what’s triggering the stress/anxiety. i know everyone always says things like “reach out to friends, reach out to family” etc and yes, that can absolutely work, but sometimes for me it just adds to that anxiety and stress. i suggest instead finding something that’s… essentially a safe place for you, if that makes sense?

for example: music and writing (most of the time) are my safe places. if i’m having a really bad go around with my anxiety, i turn to music a lot. always listening it, maybe trying to play it, attending concerts, etc. writing is also a really good outlet for me, which is why i have a pretty…. specific? bundle of one shots that deal with readers going through bad mental health days and such. plenty of silly ones as well.

maybe music and writing aren’t you safe places, which is fine! i guess my advice is to find something that can be those types of things for you! it’s also really important that i point out these things became so much more helpful to me when i stopped using them as distractions, and instead tools to work through my emotions. i find hiding from my anxiety leads to it just… getting so much worse haha.

and if that doesn’t work, treat yourself the way you’d treat a significant other or anyone important. i.e. eddie would probably tell me to eat a snack and take a day to rest in bed, or would give me a pep talk, so i should do that for myself. i’d want a lover who makes me a nice cup of tea the night before an exam because i’m freaking out, so i’m gonna make myself a nice cup of tea. does that make sense?

i hope this makes sense and isn’t useless rambling. i wish you the best of luck on your exam, love, and if you also need to just ramble or word vomit, my inbox is here <3

[bnhxwks]

hi molly bb!!!! i hope you’ve had an alright weekend and you’re taking care of yourself!!! sending hugs and pancakes and a bouquet

hi mars!! im certainly trying. i haven't been online much and have just been sleeping because my car problems are never ending, but hopefully ill be back online soon!! im very optimistic about everything rn :)

i am sending hugs right back and also some treats for you <3

[byunboobs]

im not that active anymore but its good to see you back! just wanted to say hi :)

omg hey zoe!! i hope you’ve been well 🏌️‍♀️ def missed you tons!! you’ll always be my kiwi brotha. that, i will never forget. like it’s mentally impossible for me to lmao.

[petalbelle]

Melancholy Heart | Poem #3 by me :)

There it is, my heart lying still,

No rhythm to pair with the melody of voice.

I see it now, my unmoving corpse carefully displayed on a surgical table, silver and sanitized.

I drift towards my vacant body, leaning in for a pomegranate-flavored kiss.

I close my eyes, sighing as I allow my hands to explore the lifeless husk I once occupied.

I rest my hand on my chest and inhale sharply before plunging my fist through my cool flesh.

With no time for hesitance, I tear out my still heart and hold it carefully in my hands.

Relishing the moment, I hold my heart to my own ghostly chest as if waiting to feel the slow and solemn beat of my past.

For my own sake, I lovingly place my heart back in my chest, sealing the ghastly void my fist made in my cold, lifeless flesh.

I lean in one more time for one last kiss.

For I may not miss living, 

But I will miss my poor melancholy heart.

[len-aleksander-draws]

Hiii i made you breakfast:33

On your fav spiderman plate!!

[gothsuguru]

SUKIE NATION STAND UP! MALEWIFE & HOUSEHUSBAND SUKUNA… I DESIRE YOU.

OKAY. you already know that my sukie spidey senses were tingling when it came to this fic… i swear me and malewife sukuna are like THIS 🤞🏼 that’s the sukairo hivemind actually… <333 BUT OMG FIRST OF ALL!!!!!! i am so sorry i am SO late to this rb i just genuinely wanted to properly do a rb and i think i am finally in the proper headspace to do so and i also wanted to do this fic justice bc it GENUINELY. meant so much to me :’) sukie really does mean the world 2 me and having an arikuna special??? YOU KNOW I HAD TO BE HERE! <333 ((hopefully this will be coherent omfg <3))

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them. always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it; a hand on the small of your back guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table. // but, above all else — sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

- SUKUNA IS THE ABSOLUTE “ACTS OF SERVICE” KING! i think he genuinely shows his love in terms of being a caretaker, he loves to nurture you in his own special way (which may seem a bit tough or rugged but it’s just oh-so genuine and filled w the utmost love.) he’s so PROTECTIVE and CARING… sniffles… he’s a mamabear & papabear all rolled into one <3

ALSO the quality time!!!!! him watching reality tv with you even if he hates it (methinks he secretly LOVES it he’s a dramatic messy bitch at his core 🤭), he holds you when you’re sleepy, he drives you around (passenger princess life that we all deserve) and him guiding you throughout the streets and in a way throughout life, always looking out for you and keeping you safe/protected bc that’s the way he can properly show his love! keeping you happy and healthy and safe i think is of the utmost importance ESPECIALLY to this specific sukuna :’) AND THE CAMELLIA BOUQUET??? you know i love my flower symbolism <333

AND THEN ONE OF MY FAVS… HIM TRANSLATING LOVE INTO FOOD! LOVE IS SUSTENANCE! I LOVE YOU AND I WANT YOU TO EAT WELL. SOBS………….

”i think i dreamt of you.” // waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. // (sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

- this part made me so soft it’s so . i truly do think sukuna feels envy with how easily proclamations of love comes to reader but it’s like <333 he shows his love through actions and acts of service and i wanted to say how much i LOVE that your reader doesn’t get upset/force him to verbally divulge his love… they just know it :’) it’s with every action he takes… every act is full of sincere love :’)

“you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.” … a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. “get out of my kitchen.”

- JFNFKDMDKEKDNNDKENDJDNF THIS SCENE HAD ME DYINGGGGGGGGG LMFAOOOOOOOOO omfg sukuna would absolutely be that cashier that would pick a fight and throw ice cream at me……… yelp review 5/5 the cashier is mean but he’s a sexy bad bitch <3

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far.

- I LOVE WHEN WORDS CRAWL UP SOMEONE’S THROAT BUT THEY JUST CAN’T GET OUT!!!!!! i love how you made it physical too… it’s ticklish and heavy but it isn’t like a Stone… it’s just there but it’s a little bit too much for him at the moment so he has to gulp it down. it’s me and my love for sukuna’s slight fear of verbal intimacy against the world <333

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

- oh so you just decided to make the sexiest version of sukuna huh. you just decided to make the baddest bitch sukie the world has ever seen huh. TANTALIZING IS THE BEST WORD TO DESCRIBE HIM (an elite word choice too i just LOVE the world tantalizing so much omfg) BUT RAHHHHHHHHH LEATHER JACKET + BLACK TATTOOS -> ON HIS FACE AND SHOULDER AND ARMS AND COLLARBONES I NEED HIM SO FUCKING BADNDNDNDNDNDNDNDNDNNDND . I’m Calm

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting. ”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment. // it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

- WAHHHHHH i love when he lovingly teases/bullies his s/o it’s just SOOOOOOO kunacoded :3 the lil flick on the forehead, “klutz” he really is just so ENDEARED but also !!!!! HE NEEDS YOU TO EAT WELL!!!!! i think it’s so fucking precious that he went out of his way to go to reader’s work and give them their bento… his food is filled w so much nutrition and love and WAHHH you made me so hungry reading the food descriptions……… need me a cutlet over rice w panda shapes and onigiri… omnomnom

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

- SNIFFLES………. SOBBING………… UGLY CRYING ETC… HE IS SOOOOOOOO PRECIOUS TO ME 😭😭😭 the crossed out i lo was SUCH a good touch and he’s so cute w the lil note too… he knew reader probably had a frantic day so he made it better w food and a promise of watching their favorite show… ari i need sukie to be my boyfriend so bad…….. need him to cook me deliciously nutritious meals so bad i think he could Actually fix me

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue. // there’s love, in this, in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients and seasonings, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue.

- who else fcuckifng Crode…….. i’ve never been more jealous of a character in my life. EVERY BITE IS FILLED W GENUINE LOVE AND YOU JUST WANT TO SAVOR THE FLAVOR AND THE HARD WORK HE PUT INTO IT! love is in EVERYTHING that he does from picking out the ingredients to actually cooking the meal to presentation to then Giving it to you to EAT… genuinely every act is filled w the utmost attention and care and love. it’s just so unbelievably sweet it’s unreal… he’s gonna give me cavities from how sweet he is and the fact that the words are always on the tip of his tongue… my man is down Horrendous

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls. and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. all your favorites.

- I’M DROOLING. I CAN’T EVEN EAT SEAFOOD AND I WAS DROOLING. i’m looking respectfully at his famous golden brown grilled dumplings…….. sukie pleek give me some right now if you don’t i’ll literally create the shinjuku fight 2.0 and no one is safe . GIVE ME THE SUKUNA SPECIAL NOWWWWWWW I NEEEEEEED IT!!!!!!!! also ari you write SOOOOOOOO vividly like it GENUINELY feels like i can ENVISION AND SEE the food right in front of me!!!!!

“do you know what bluebells symbolize?” // “why else would i ask him to buy them?”

- I LOOKED UP BLUEBELL SYMBOLISM. “everlasting love.” SUKUNA IS SOOOOO IN LOOOOOOOVE!!!!!!! ofc he’d look up flower meanings ofc he would… it’s such a sukuna thing to do i really do think he’s sooooo romantic and a gentleman in that sense :’)

“did you really think you could trick me so easily?” ”i did! you carried me here!”

- PELALDNDMDMDMMSNDNDNDD AGAIN THIS SCENE HAD ME DYING LAUGHING LIKE READER IS SO FUCKING REAL I TOO WOULD PRETEND TO SLEEP (I HAVE TBH) IN ORDER TO BE CARRIED TO BED <333 sukie’s so indulgent he loves his baby brat so much hehe

(it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe. but he brushes the thought away.) 

- one of my favorite lines in the fic… him wanting to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole to keep you safe tucked in between his ribs… this is so sukunacoded and i do think it’s his own personal way of showing affection, all he wants to do is keep you safe and the best way is to keep you with him! it may sound twisted but it’s so sweet to me i really do love this line so much :’)

he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. // a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy — far more grueling than any of the bloodshed. // (you chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life. one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit.)

- ari. i love love loved what you did here, i loved the tie in to canonical sukuna being a nightmare for sukuna… maybe it’s him in his dreamscape maybe it’s him subconsciously remembering a past life idk whatever it IS, i literally had my jaw dropped. this tidbit was everything to me

him wanting to be kept awake by your silliness on nights where he envisions burning flesh and blood beneath a young boy’s fingernails (yuji my beloved) and WOW. i think one of the worst parts of his nightmare would be looking at you in apathy… i think he doesn’t even want to fathom a universe where he isn’t devoted and in love w you. i think that apathy scared him more than anything and maybe on those nights he holds you a lil tighter </3 WAHHHHH YOU CHASE HIS GHOSTS AWAY 🥹 cinnamon, sunlight, & ripe fruit… i love your mind ari

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous; a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?” // then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate. // ”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning.

- MY GOOBERS MY DORKS MY GOOFBALLS IN LOVE I LOOOOOOVED THE DIALOGUE AND CHARACTERIZATION IN THIS FIC SO MUCH IT FELT SO REAL TO ME HEHEHEHE <333 reader making fun of sukuna is so real like the count dracula gagged him a bit omfg… HE’S SUCH A PLAYFUL BULLY I LOVE HIMMMMMMMM HIS LIL “behave” W A GRIN HE IS SOOOOOO IN LOVE IT MAKES HIM LOOK SILLY :>

he tucks you into his neck, and mouths the words into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure.

- sukuna mouthing the words into your ear… “i love you” is so scary and sacred to him i love the fact that this big, strong man is so weak to his s/o and those three little words… he truly loves you so much it could break him in a million little pieces… sniffles……… i adore him so much

- i screenshotted this whole entire part bc it genuinely speaks for itself. love is in every action, in every word, in every act of service, it’s in EVERYTHING he does. love love love, he exemplifies love he personifies love. he IS love. TO ME.

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough — i love you, i love you, i love you.

- YOUR ENDINGS ARE GONNA DO IT FOR ME EVERYTIME. A SILENT DECLARATION… A HYMN… i love you, i love you, i love you.

WAHHHHHHH AND I LOVE YOUUUUUUUU ARI <333 thank you once again for creating such a beautiful and stunning fic/story… i feel like i repeat myself all the time but genuinely i mean it when i say your writing just transports me into your little love-filled worlds and i never wanna get out! you write w such delicate care for the characters and relationships the characters have and it SHOWS!!!!! and i really loved your descriptions in this along w your imagery and dialogue… i literally never wanted to be a “reader” so bad before 😭 i need sukie to cook me delicious food and handfeed me… he could fix me in ways i can’t even fathom.

also omg sorry if this whole rb feels wonky i feel like i almost Forgot how to do rb’s and i don’t know if my complete and utter adoration for this fic and you and sukuna came through but please know it’s THERE i just think my brain can’t compute things properly 😭 I PROMISE I WILL DO BETTER FOR MERGURU… SNIFFLES… just know i love you and your stories and your world building and your takes on the characters <3 I AM SMOOCHING YOU AND SUKUNA SO HARD RN <333 my beloved meowmeows <333 MWAH!

^ how i imagine a sukuna head bonk would feel like </3

sometimes i long to eat you up ; ryōmen sukuna

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth; even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested. 

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on.

little moments, precious moments, few and far between. that’s just how sukuna is; unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do. 

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them. always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it; a hand on the small of your back guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table.

but, above all else — sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, soft and hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen. dyeing the open space in a golden glow, like something out of a summery daydream. 

as you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily. stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all. 

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, and sukuna watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the coffee beans himself, grinding them into coffee grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be.

it gives him peace of mind. and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.) 

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest.

but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still. his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch upwards. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly. he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue — but never once pushes you off.

all sukuna does is caress your arm, absentmindedly, where it rests around his midsection. still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron.

but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking. of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice. so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip — struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work, but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble. ”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

a soft silence washes over you, once more. just for a couple of blissful moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills, for a moment. only barely, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. 

ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out like a sleepy cat. ”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body.

”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?” 

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have him to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a smile. he sounds cute when he gets riled up. ”aw. i like it, though...”

a moment passes.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unperturbed. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is; but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists, and shake your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something akin to pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content.

finally, the kitchen falls silent. only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears, until that dwindles out too. a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks. 

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. 

he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more. absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?” 

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. 

then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing a little on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the flowers by the windowsill. he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it, glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

maybe later.

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing at his waist affectionately. taking a sip of the bitter brew.

a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning. the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words. 

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips. 

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. 

only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, a bit, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would eventually forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind.

you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise. you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead.

a sigh slips from your lips. your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes.

”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all — but it is what it is.

if only you hadn’t forgotten it…

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth. tied neatly, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your silent stupor — unable to do anything but look at him. like he just fell out of the sky. 

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you ��”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the exterior. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap with a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you where you sit, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, just a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.” 

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting. ”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment.

a smile sprouts on your lips. you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have.

”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. meeting his gaze. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him.

it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be.

(but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.)

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves. collected and confident, languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time. with an eager kind of giddiness, you begin to unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp.

the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri. they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds. you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun seeping in through the window behind you — it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads through your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue.

the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile. 

there’s love, in this, in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients and seasonings, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue.

the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty. there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again — but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes. his love.

god, you can’t wait to get home.

a soft, orange glow simmer in the kitchen, an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scent mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss. 

not to mention the food. 

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls. and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. 

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot, made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum. petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare. 

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.” 

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!” 

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he took.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, but…” he raises it to his lips before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?”

a curt nod is all you get.

it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile; fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization — the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue. 

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice.

sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for the little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, leaving his homemade ice cream in the freezer for later. cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil.

there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease. and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. 

sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with. he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. 

he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever; but there’s no way you’d ever sit still for so long. 

so he carries you to bed. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your facial features. 

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you. 

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes. 

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad.

(it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe. but he brushes the thought away.) 

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again, that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

”sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping onto your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers. brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. 

he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. 

a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy — far more grueling than any of the bloodshed. 

(you chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life. one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. but you don’t need to know that, so he doesn’t say it. he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue. 

he squeezes your palm. 

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

”g’night, honey,” you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums; a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. 

”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous; a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate.

”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom. 

”sweet dreams, count dracula!” 

he throws a glance over his shoulder, meeting your crinkled eyes. ”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding on what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, half an hour later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths the words into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure.

but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes. 

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. 

because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. you can feel it in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile. 

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.