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chosows · 3 days

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FIRE ON ICE 🏒

Ice hockey Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Hockey—a sport that had taken over his life, and yours. Every day of the past month has been dedicated to his performance for the upcoming game; this game determines their position in the tournament as the rightful victors.

Sukuna takes great pride in his preparations, often neglecting you in the process to ensure his focus is entirely on the game. Whatever the fate may be, he is aware of his absence in the relationship. He swears that given this victory tonight, he will share you a fix of his undivided attention.

Word count: 5.5k

Contains: Smut, established relationship, teasing, public displays of affection (brief), top!Sukuna, bottom!reader, cunnilingus, penetration, brief aftercare

Note: i keep getting hockey edits plastered over my social media feeds and it’s taking over my life, so now it can take over yours too. this is also my first post on tumblr + first oneshot (not my first time writing—i typically prefer my long fics); this may be a little rough

Saturday, September 14th, 11:00 AM

With a few hours remaining before the match begins, you attempt to settle down in the hotel room they had provided as his accommodation. It was ridiculously fancy, decked out beyond belief; the closet has its own room, something even your apartment lacks. The view was exceptional; you could see the arena from the floor-to-ceiling length windows. The building that would decide the fate of his career could change both of your lives if his team succeeds. Though Sukuna would never admit to his emotions, you could sense the tension and dread growing inside him each passing day. His anger becomes out of control when he is overwhelmed; he struggles to process his thoughts and allows them to overflow, spurting whatever hurtful words they harbour at you. You know he doesn’t mean it, he could never harm you; you’re his good luck charm—his motivation. When tensions are heightened, you figure it’s best to stay out of his way; he regulates alone, any other input will add kinder to his raging flames. Fans have been highly active in the media, small video and picture edits of the team are blowing up—especially the ones of your boyfriend. Herds of women flock to these hockey matches despite admitting they only attend to see the player they deem most attractive. Many of the older men had found your social media accounts through Sukuna and would send you direct messages, expecting you to have the latest scoop on the team. In reality, you pay little to no attention to the logic behind the sport; all you do is support Sukuna with no other thought in your mind. He has attempted to explain the process but it doesn’t register in your brain; a brick wall would take better understanding than you do. Buzzing sounds and your phone vibrates on top of the wooden bedside table, casting your attention to the lit-up phone screen. A Facetime call is coming through, so you quickly do your best to shape up your appearance before answering.

“Hey,” The camera shows Sukuna alone in the locker room, his jersey resting beside him on the bench as he rests his head against the cool metal, “Only three hours left, you excited to see me out there?”

“You know I am; you should see what it’s like on social media. They’re all talking about the game, there’s been a few thousand posts under the team name in an hour.”

“Good, we’re going to give them something to talk about.”

“I can’t wait for this to be over, I feel like I haven’t spent time with you properly in months.”

“I know. It’s been tough, you’ve gotten through it quite well though.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to steal you straight after the game?”

“Don’t know, they might have us do some interviews. I’ll try my best to make it quick.”

“How come you’re not dressed?”

“Started sweating so I took everything off, it’s been a mess over here.” He pats his hand against his abs, then tilts his head slightly to the side to reposition himself more comfortably.

“You’re stressing yourself out again, Sukuna.”

“You think?”

“Give yourself a breather, don’t let it weigh too heavily on your mind. You don’t want to let your emotions mess with you mid-game.”

“That’s easy for you to say, it’s far harder than it looks.”

“I believe in you,” You smile at him through the screen, and his eyes drift to your mouth, “I’ll be there yelling your name, cheering you on louder than everyone else.”

“That’s all I need. I’ll see you soon, baby.”

“I love you, go win us that game.” He takes a final moment to glance at you, the grin on his face visible before he ends the call.

With little time left to spare, you take action and begin dressing accordingly. Since it can get cold being so close to the ice, you’re advised to layer up. You select one of your sweatshirts and a pair of pants that will ideally match the outfit you crafted inside of your mind, praying that it will look better when it’s on your body than it does laid out in front of you. Pairing the sweatshirt with one of Sukuna’s jerseys adds to a cosy yet stylish outfit; you have to look your best since there are chances that the cameras, at some stage, will be on you. It doesn’t have to be formal, but it must be presentable—that’s what Sukuna always tells you. If you wouldn’t wear it for a job interview then you shouldn’t wear it in front of the camera, so you take those words into careful consideration while dolling yourself up. You do your usual makeup routine and style your hair in your preferred way, aiming to keep the casual look to not overdo yourself. To finalise your appearance, you slip on a bobble hat and scarf which matches the colour of the team; your pace increases as you catch the time, sliding into your shoes by the door.

Travel has already been arranged for you; there’s a car waiting outside to take you to the stadium to avoid the hassle of fans. Since you are the girlfriend of a team member, they allow you to enter earlier. Driving through the city spotting civilians wearing the rugby jerseys and merchandise sends sparks of exhilaration through your soul; it’s a thrilling experience and you are more than grateful to be in the position you’re in. Many women would kill to be you; Sukuna is just as dreamy as they make him out to be, but they will never gain the true experience of being his lover. His appearance is what gets them hooked; he’s brooding, standing at around 6’7” tall. Fierce eyes, proportional features, and cocky mannerisms make him the man he is. You can’t blame them for drooling over him, he’s everything any woman could ever want. His career isn’t what you chased him for; you initially had no idea who he was when you first met him at that party. The car comes to a halt and you step out, cluelessly approaching the stadium until you wait for someone to guide you. Sukuna’s personal jersey makes you stand out, fans would never be able to attain one like this; he had signed your name under his, a true limited edition. Two of the event managers spot you and escort you through the back, now passing through the hallways where all the players are situated before the game starts. You attempt to peek around corners in hopes of catching a glimpse of Sukuna before the game, but your luck runs dry.

Front row, in a seat beside the wife of the coach; you are more than familiar with Kenjaku, considering yourselves as friends due to the interactions you share outside of the sports world. Her seat was empty but his jacket was draped over the chair, signalling his return shortly. A few other women were here, though you aren’t acquainted with them; a majority of the men on the team switch their girlfriends far quicker than you can keep up with. Sukuna is teased for his long-term relationship, especially for the fact that he still hasn’t proposed to you. Their words are a nuisance to him, nothing but fodder; when the time is right, he will make his move. Peer pressure could not affect someone who has always stood out amongst the crowd. You settle down and shove your hands into your pockets, eagerly waiting for the fans to begin piling in. The sound elevates when the main doors open, and then the hordes of people flock to their designated areas. Life is what makes the atmosphere of these games so mesmerising, you wonder if Sukuna still feels that awe while on the ice. Kenjaku slips past and takes his wife’s seat momentarily, handing you a pair of gloves Sukuna advised him to give to you.

“Good afternoon, hockey fans!” The commentator blasts out on the speakers, diminishing the build-up of chatter into silence. Kenjaku pleads with you to keep a keen eye on his wife’s personal belongings while he dips back to the player bench, awaiting the arrival of his team.

“Welcome to the final game of the tournament; a great day to show up and support your favourite team!”

On the giant screen, the camera pans to the players exiting backstage. There he was, taking steps onto the ice and gliding as though he were still on land. Sukuna was breathtaking, your eyes are trained on him as though he were a deer you are hunting in the wild. The commentator continued to ramble on with the general procedure of announcing the lineups of both respective teams and introducing the coaches to the fans. You stand up from your seat like the others around you and clap, joining in with the chant before the game officially begins. Sukuna spots you in the crowd, shaking his head at how clueless you appear; he tries his best to suppress the chuckle attempting to burst out—he can’t shame you for trying. He settles down, now shifting his mindset to the main goal—securing this game as a victory. This team may cause a problem, but he’s confident enough that this win is in their hands.

“Good luck to both teams, may the game commence!” The voice fades out and then both teams launch towards the puck, battling for ownership.

It’s hard to make out what’s happening as all you can see is the mass amounts of various players whizzing past your eyes. Sukuna is determined to take the lead, so he does. He manoeuvres his way, breaking the opposing team’s line of defence and sending the puck directly to another one of his teammates, only to have it stolen back almost instantly. This battle has been ongoing for the past ten minutes, and Sukuna’s fury is beginning to bubble up. His team are unable to maintain security and control of the puck, rendering his efforts useless. You glance over at Kenjaku near the team bench and notice him holding his head in his hands; his team is falling apart in front of his eyes, and there is little hope for them to obtain a goal anytime soon.

Crashing, cursing, and tumbling are all that have happened so far. Sukuna’s performance is becoming more aggressive, nudging players out of the way as though they were ragdolls and sending them crashing into the barrier. Kenjaku’s screams register over the rowdy crowd, urging him to stop before the referee targets him for fault. Frenzied turmoil had possessed him as he turned a deaf ear, now taking the game into his own hands. He secured the puck and denied making the same mistake he did before; he kept the puck close and eased his way through the obstacles, acting as crowd control amongst all the other players. They were struggling to catch up to him as he approached the opposing goal, their goalkeeper springing to action as he saw Sukuna heading his way—rapidly. That sight alone is enough to make anyone begin to falter, and before he knew it, Sukuna had made his shot, sending the puck straight into the goal through the space left unprotected. The crowd roars as the commentator announces Sukuna’s name and number as the unassisted goal scorer. He sticks his tongue out as the camera captures his face, skating backwards to return to his original position.

Shortly after, the opposing team had matched the scores just before the first intermission commenced. While other members of his team were escorted off, he swiftly made his way over to you, banging his hands against the barrier to grab your attention. You run over to him from your seat, catching a glimpse of Kenjaku scolding him in the background. Sukuna points at you and you cock your head aside, confused as to what he could be wanting to say. You point at yourself and he nods, then he changes the positioning of his finger to himself. You copy his motions and he bobs his head with approval, a knowing smirk painting its way onto his face. He bites his lip and spins in place, rolling his eyes back to make a dirty innuendo. The people behind you were puzzled at the interaction taking place in front of them and you motioned for him to cut it out, hearing his laughter descend as he made his way to catch back up with the members of the team. Before he disappears to the locker room, he points at the area where his heart resides and then back at you, leaving you with a stupidly big smile presented as your current expression. Sukuna deserves this win more than anybody else on their team does.

Behind the scenes, Kenjaku devised a new approach. Since Sukuna is the fastest and most offensive on the ice, he’s their best shot at scoring, meaning the opposing team will have their members on high defence around him. With the idea shared of deceiving them with who their main shooter could be, the other team will not know exactly who to target or when. Sukuna is going to remain off the radar until he’s required to strike, a simple approach that fools typically fall for. While the discussion dies down, they are shortly announced to arrive back on the ice to continue the game with an equal score of 1:1 for both teams.

A new energy radiates and overtakes the rink, Sukuna’s body language is shifting and his eyes darkening. As soon as they began, someone had already shoved into him. In turn, Sukuna manages to subtly take him to the floor, avoiding a penalty since he cannot be pinned for the fault. Several of the opposing team are hounding him, hardly allowing him any free movement even when he isn’t in possession of the puck. It’s incredibly hard to play a game when you are boxed in, especially in a sport where movement plays a key factor in success. In a sudden outburst, Sukuna shifts his position and sends two people into the barrier. The referee intervenes and pulls them to the side, a possible penalty on Sukuna’s behalf. The chants increase in volume as the game picks up pace, yet you can hear the sound of Sukuna’s voice overpowering the chaos unfolding around him. He was furious, battling the violent thoughts plaguing his mind. If he wasn’t so strong-willed, he would’ve lost control of his hands and swung the hockey stick against the skulls of the pests who have been harassing him. Upon final decision, he was sent to the penalty box and was unable to participate in the last two minutes of the period.

No goals were scored as the game shifted to the second intermission; there were zero rational thoughts left inside Sukuna’s mind, he was a walking hazard. While he was exiting the rink, he swung his stick against the metal pole and snapped it in two, tossing the remains aside as he stormed past the rest of the team. Kenjaku informed the group that he would temporarily bench Sukuna since it would give him time to recollect and focus his attention back on the game—and he had no other option but to agree with this decision. Sweat was rolling down his face and the veins on his hands were threatening to burst; riling himself up like this is never a position he wishes to put himself in, especially in important scenarios such as this. When intermission finished, Sukuna had switched out with a member of the bench and sat there bouncing his leg, a new hockey stick by his side. You scoot to the end of the row and shout over to him, catching his attention by pure miracle. Though in a terrible state of mind, the sight of you had twisted his lips up into a subtle smile. He raises his hand to wave until he’s suddenly switched out, now making his way back to the ice. There was an opening and he didn’t hesitate to take it, he checked the puck away from the imbecile navigating it and was making his way swiftly to the goal. Rather than taking the shot, he passed the puck to Kashimo; their secret weapon. While they rushed to Sukuna, Kashimo had taken the opportunity to score the goal, adding a point to the team on the leaderboard. Sukuna grins widely as the other team realises they had been outsmarted, relishing in their failure.

Kenjaku stands up from his seat and claps his hands while the camera zooms in on him and splits screens between Kashimo and Sukuna. The final intermission had arrived with a score of 2:1; the last round would determine the winner, and at this rate, this would leave their team victorious. While they’re in the locker room, you send Sukuna a text. He won’t be able to read it until the game is finished, but you feel it’s only fair to let him know how proud of him you are. Watching him out there while understanding how hard he works is rewarding, especially when it goes in his favour—he puts his soul into this sport; no one could work harder than him. Sukuna is a legend in the making, a fire that will only burn brighter. You’ll be there throwing gasoline into the flames, making sure he doesn’t die out.

5:20 PM

2:1, the final score was announced and the stadium celebrated the victory of Sukuna’s team. It warmed your heart to see the wide variety of individuals supporting him; from children to elders, Sukuna was able to please all of his fans on this special day. Most importantly, he had pleased you. You watched as they placed a medal around his neck and cheered his name, holding your hands together in the shape of a heart. When the award ceremony had concluded, many fans were flocking out of the stadium, preparing to camp outside and say their farewells to the players. When the arena had cleared out, most players went straight through to the back. Sukuna strides over to you, dropping his helmet while you wrap your arms around him. He had lifted you off of your feet and squeezed you, almost crushing you with the sheer dumb strength he harbours. You gaze up at him and pout, an unspoken demand for a kiss. Who would he be to deny you? He pressed your back against the glass barrier and held you there until the sound of a voice behind caused him to break away, placing a final peck on your cheek before he turned to the source.

“You’re in public, you know?” Kenjaku points at his tongue, mimicking a gag as he picks his jacket up. “You need to behave, you had me on the ropes that entire game. Are you serious, Sukuna? I can’t keep—”

“We won, didn’t we?” Sukuna takes your hand into his, though there was no skin-to-skin contact you could still feel the heat he radiates.

“Don’t be arrogant, and don’t make a total fool out of yourself in the interview. I’ll be in the room, I’ll make sure I’m sitting right beside you to keep you in place.”

“I can’t believe you’re the same man who gets shitface drunk every weekend; I’ve babysat your kids and you still hound me.”

“I’m a man of many wonders—endless possibilities. Come on, this interview is about to start,” Kenjaku turns away to head through the back, then addresses you in his final words, “You can come too, they have seats behind the cameras.”

Sukuna waits until Kenjaku is out of sight before he pulls out the puck used for the match. He closes your hands over it and links your arm with his, dragging you towards the room where the interview will take place. Walking through the hallways filled with pictures of local legends is bone-chilling; perhaps Sukuna will be on one of these walls someday. When you reach the interview room, you take your seat and beam at him, proud to see him amongst his members with medals hanging from their necks.

8:30 PM

Left on the back wheel of the team, you had become burned out from their excessive amount of celebratory activities. Interviews, photographs, autograph signing, and the list goes on. You were forgotten about, struggling to remain patient for much longer; all you want to do is go back to the hotel room and sleep. Sukuna steps out of the locker in his casual attire, pushing you out the exit doors with him to the cab he booked. It was silent on the way home—in your case. You had dozed off while he muttered about the game, unintentionally exhausted from so much hockey. You don’t intend to be disrespectful, but when it’s the only thing you hear constantly for a month, your brain begins shutting down at the trigger word—hockey. You’re surprised you are able to escape it in your dreams; it’s a mosquito you cannot kill, nipping at you and draining your energy.

Thump. Your eyes flutter open as the mattress sways. Sukuna had carried you to the room and had fully prepared himself for the evening. His hair is still damp and his skin is clammy, your hand had intertwined with his the second you recognised his presence. It had been a long day for both of you—more so him, you were just the spectator. You scoot closer to him and place your chin on his shoulder, coming into contact with his eyes that possess a devilish glint.

“You tired? It must be so much work cheering me on.” His nail scratches under your chin, causing you to scrunch up from the sensation.

“It is, it’s a lot of work. Unpaid too.”

“How should I pay you?” It was a rhetorical question—he already had his answer, he just wanted to hear it from you.

“Some attention would be nice, we haven’t cuddled properly since last month. You always come home late and—” Before you can finish your complaint, he lifts you and places you on top of his chest. His hands rest on the small of your back, sliding under your sweatshirt.

“Poor you,” He coos, his fingers tracing lines down your skin the lower his hands venture, “You must feel so neglected.”

“I forgot what your touch feels like.” You mumble into his bare skin, the vibration of his raspy laugh causing you to stiffen up.

“Has it been that long? Or are you just that desperate?” His thumb toys with your lips, your breath fanning his hands while he waits for you to reply, “What one of the two is it?”

“Both. It’s been three weeks since we had sex, I started to believe you fell out of love with me. You wouldn’t even kiss me properly.”

“I couldn’t afford any distractions, you know that.”

“But it’s not fair, Sukuna. You can’t just kick me off to the side, I won’t distract you—I promise. It’s been horrible for me, I hate it when you have to play these big games.”

“Didn’t know it was that bad for you, I never meant to make you feel like shit. Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Sukuna pushes you off of him and looms over you, unbuttoning your pants, “I’ll make it all better, you shouldn’t have negative thoughts in that pretty little head.”

“Should be me, I’d take it all from you if I could. You’ve been there for me through it all, my most loyal supporter. My number one girl.” He tugs your pants down, revealing your panties and the wet patch that had formed in them.

“You’re—”

“Turning you on? I can see that.” He pokes his finger on the patch and your legs clamp shut, tramping him in between them.

“—Making me flustered! Slow down—” You’re cut off when his lips graze your inner thigh, planting pecks down the strips of exposed flesh.

His teeth attach to the thin fabric and slide your panties down slowly, the heat from his breath interacting with your cold skin causing goosebumps to rise. When he drags them past your knees, he slings them off to the side and spreads your legs, keeping your most vulnerable region in view for his prying eyes. You’re there in his jersey, eyes unable to meet him and hands gripping the sheets—he had almost forgotten how pleasant this view could be. He lowers his head and his hair brushes against you, smearing some of the moisture it withheld from his shower. Rather than diving straight in, his index finger slips between your folds and coaxes your clit with slick. You were far too easy—getting this soaked when he had hardly even touched you. You must’ve been fantasising about this moment all day. While he could give you what you want, he decides to drag it out further, testing your limits. Your patience has already broken and the weak pressure he is applying to your clit isn’t enough to stimulate you, it’s just enough to make you aware of his presence.

“Are you grinding against my fingers? You’re so needy,” He cackles at your desperate attempts to receive satisfaction and pulls his fingers away, slipping them into his mouth and indulging in your taste, “You’ll wait until I’m ready.”

“Please don’t do this to me, it’s been so long—don’t you think I deserve it?”

“I do think you deserve it, which is exactly why I’ll give it to you in a way you won’t forget. You’ll get what you want if you are patient, can you do that for me?” His hands knead your thighs, and you nod in response, “Good.”

Dominance came naturally to Sukuna, in both his hobbies and his sex life. It’s what he knows best, and is certainly what he excels at. He makes you weak just by the touch of a few fingers, melting slowly as his buttery words raise you to the pedestal he sits you on. Held so highly in his life only to be belittled by his condescending words—humiliating you and taunting you for becoming so aroused. You find your gaze fixed on his heaving chest, eyes daring to lower and come in contact with his highly defined abs. Sukuna’s physique resembles a hand-carved statue, chiselled with all the fine details a true creative could only dream of. He lowers his face and stares up at you, his eyes fluttering gently making him appear innocent–you both know that’s not the case. Kisses are littered on your abdomen, and your body wriggles, silently begging for more. Your body was heating up and your stomach was in knots, anticipating the moment he finally made contact with your clit. Sensing the urgency, he drags his tongue between your folds, sending a shudder through your core. Since he started, he can’t turn back–he’s hooked on your taste, and he’s starved; a luxury he had forced himself to miss out on. He got lost quickly, but you had been far gone for much longer than he had. Your hands are tangled in his ashy, strawberry-coloured hair, fingers wrapping around strands doing their best to bring him closer. Sukuna’s tongue was toying with your clit, repeating the same circular motions. Wriggling due to the pleasure didn’t affect him, he had you locked in a position where you couldn’t move. Breathy moans fill the atmosphere as you near your climax, though your release is yet to be granted as he pulls away. Your slick is smeared across his lips, his cheeks possessing a hardly noticeable twinge of pink from his lack of oxygen intake.

“I’ve missed you, you know?” He wipes his face clean with his forearm and drags you into a longing kiss, his eyes flickering with adoration as he distances himself, “Do you think I stop thinking about you when we aren’t together?”

“I missed you more.” He pins your arms behind your head, a sultry smirk twisting his lips up. All you can do is gawk at how heavenly he looks; he’s an angel with the personality of a devil, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

“That’s impossible,” Using one hand to restrain you, his other ventures down to his boxers, stroking his dick through the fabric, “You have no idea how much you mean to me—I don’t think you fully understand the lengths I’d go for you.”

That’s the truth—you don’t know how far he’d go for you, and you’re unsure if you want to find out. His struggles with regulating his fury place him in treacherous territory; there is no doubt in your mind that he could take a life just by using his bare hands, there are times when even he is unaware of the extent his strength can reach. With his boxers now discarded, he lines his tip up with your entrance, teasing your hole while he prepares to thrust in. Though he is completely bare, your top half remains covered with his jersey. In a sudden snap of his hips, he forces his way in, your plush walls massaging the length of his dick. Allowing you time to adjust, he slowly inched his way deeper, being careful not to overstimulate you. All of his six and a half inches being consumed by you, taking him in nicely. Getting you wet is no struggle, and it certainly helps with the penetration; your body has adjusted to his girth and size, similar to a lock and key mechanism.

Thrust after thrust; sweat was pouring from Sukuna. The bed would creak at any given movement and the two of you were far from quiet, giving this floor of the hotel an insight into what you were doing. His groans would cause knots to tie in your stomach, your walls clenching around him only adding to the pleasure he receives. You are beautiful when you are sprawled out like this for him, muttering and whispering his name under your breath, assuming he wouldn’t hear it—but he heard everything. He heard how good you said it felt, he heard you chanting his name as though you were handing yourself over to him, he also heard those pleas for a release. It was nearing your breaking point, your climax had been toyed with, but now it is threatening to reach its peak.

“Tell me everything that’s been on your mind, let it all out.” Sukuna continues to wind his hips in those rugged motions, hitting sweet spots you weren’t aware existed. It took you a while to process his words, too fucked out to think straight.

“I hate how— How you distance yourself from me—” Your mouth hangs open while whines roll from your tongue, head lolling back and your eyes closing over, “And I hate how you never listen— You always— It’s always what you think is best.”

“And?”

“I wish that you’d just— That you’d—” You can’t fight your release and you cum, allowing yourself to come loose. Your breath hitches as he continues, chasing his own release.

“That I’d what?”

“I just want you to myself, ‘Kuna.” A tear slips from your eye as your overstimulation turns into a second orgasm; the presence of his lips on yours catches you off guard, resulting in you moaning in his mouth.

What once started strong becomes sloppy; his forehead is pushed against your shoulder while his groans become silent, the huffs of his breath now creating more sound. His core tightened as he pumped his cum deep inside you, your hands rubbing up and down his back while he lay down. All of the pent-up tension from his mind and body dissipated, replaced by the lust shared with you. His teeth nip at the skin on your neck, nuzzling his head further into the crook to latch on better. Your nails had etched their mark into his flesh, and his teeth had imprinted their shape into yours—a fair exchange.

“I am all yours. Every day during this break will be dedicated to you.”

“It’s the worst feeling knowing other women wish they were yours.” That’s the biggest con of having a boyfriend known in the media; it drives you insane seeing what others say about him online—especially when they find a way to criticise you for being the one he chose to settle for.

“None of them could ever compare to you; they’re spiteful. Who wouldn’t be? You’re a gorgeous young woman who is successful. They have to take their anger out on the people who are better than them. You have everything they will never obtain.” He squeezes your hand, intertwining your fingers; a symbol of remaining linked for eternity.

“I have you. I think I’ll keep you forever.” You plant a kiss on his forehead, watching the smile spread across his face; the shift in his tone was noticeable, his voice huskier than it was before.

“Who said that was a choice? You’re never leaving my side.”

#jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #oneshot #jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk smut #alternate universe #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna

324 notes · View notes

chosows · 2 days

Note

i think it would be nice if like there was a one shot about us having a kid with him i think that would be perfect for a one shot

i’m assuming this is about sukuna—if i’m wrong i’m sorry anon, i’ll take my mind out from the depths of the filthy sukuna gutter

FATHERLY DUTIES

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Pregnancy was an experience Sukuna had never expected to be bestowed upon him; you as his wife are bringing his child into the world. It’s a journey filled with joys and challenges, something he hopes to face successfully hand in hand with the woman he trusts most. Who would’ve known that such a pure life could stem from someone so corrupt?

Word count: 2.2k

Contains: Established relationship, pregnancy, brief smut, Sukuna being smitten, brief description of sex, slice of life, alternative universe: Sukuna is human

Note: making this bow divider took longer than me actually writing this, i hope it resembles bows (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ — don’t be afraid to request, i’ll get around to them when i have time

DURING THE PREGNANCY

Pregnancy is a wonderful gift; the ability to bring a child into the world with the person you adore should be cherished. However, the experience is far from being as glamorous as you imagined it to be. What seemed to be a breeze for everyone else hit you ten times harder—you’re experiencing it all. Bloating, morning sickness, general nausea, a weak bladder, and the list goes on. You convince yourself it’s all worth it to bring your beacon of joy into the world, but it feels as though you’re barely clinging on.

As a man, he would never understand the extremes you experience daily with this growing life inside of you—though any set of eyes could see it was obvious you were struggling, even his. To lighten your workload, he subtly began taking over house tasks; encouraging you to get your rest was similar to asking a wolf to play fetch—you were not giving him an easy time. Claiming that just because you are pregnant you aren’t capable of taking care of chores anymore is insulting and then whining due to the aches you get after completing them; it’s a constant game of tug of war with no winning side. Since your hormones are all over the place, it is best to allow you to have your way; arguing with you won’t help anyone, and it could cause issues with the development of your child.

Observing your bump growing throughout the duration made him realise this was now his reality; half of him and half of you created this new soul. He never believed he could feel so fondly of someone he had never met, how a soon-to-be human who is currently smaller than the palm of his hand could alter him in ways he wouldn’t imagine he could change. If there is a given opportunity when you allow him to feel your belly, he would take it in an instant; the movement in which your child shifts and manoeuvres is almost as though it recognises his presence—showing favouritism to its father before they are even acquainted. The way in which he massages your hips and presses his lips to your stomach reminds you of all the reasons why you chose to settle down with him of all people. Sukuna may not be the most put-together man but he swears by his vows to raise this child right with you. The mistakes of his past will be discarded, life handed him this new slate filled with a multitude of opportunities—you were the angel sent to guide him on the right path, and you sure looked the part with how elegant you were in your flowy maternity clothes and lazy hairstyles.

Weight fluctuations are inevitable, but the bitter reality of realising some of your favourite clothing pieces don’t fit correctly anymore hits you hard. Your body has to adjust its shape and your child needs the nutrients; it would be vain to only care for your looks rather than the health of your baby. Instead of throwing out your old clothes, Sukuna emptied half of his side of the wardrobe for you to store them there—it’s not guaranteed you return to your original size any time soon, but it wouldn’t hurt to hold onto them for the memories they carried. He finds you to be as attractive as you once were; you look completely identical in his eyes, your clothing size is nothing but a number—the shape and curves of your body make you who you are, his special girl. Sukuna had stopped working out as much as he used to, claiming he was bulking and putting on weight of his own; while it was the truth, the reality was he didn’t want you to go through this change alone. It can be daunting and weigh on your conscience, but it should never affect you—a woman whose beauty can only be experienced. No matter the skill of a painter, they would find it impossible to encapsulate so much splendour on a canvas.

“A nursery wouldn’t be hard to build; we don’t need to pay anyone. I could do that myself.”— He said. While you are resting on the sofa, minding your business flicking through a magazine, the sounds of crashing and cursing sound out from upstairs. It’s hard to restrain a chuckle before you shout up to check in on him, and his tone instantly shifts from gruff to mellow, doing his best to convince you all is well while half the crib he spent hours on just collapsed. You give it to him that he is a handyman—he is just far too impatient to read instruction manuals. Ignorance is not always bliss, especially if the crib his child is supposed to sleep in keeps plummeting to the ground. The walk of shame through the living room to grab his thin framed reading glass was silent; he didn’t dare to look you in the eyes since he could already picture the smug expression on your face. Proving him wrong was like a punch to the gut; it flattened his almighty ego to the floor, burying it amongst the dirt. There is a strange guilt summoned when you acknowledge his inaudible struggles, so the two of you join forces. You knelt on the rug of the nursery, reading the instructions out loud while he did the handy work. It’s a job well done when the room you envisioned comes to life, all the blissful colours to stimulate the imagination and the variety of stuffed animals patiently waiting to greet their new friend—it’s everything you could’ve hoped for, you pray your child will love it there as much as you do.

Many pregnant women state their sex life runs dry, but yours has taken the turn for the opposite. Whether it be your pheromones growing stronger due to the hormones or him appreciating the strength it takes to become a mother, he could not take his hands off of you. Sex was something he initially hesitated on during your first trimester; he feared that too much activity might render you eligible for a miscarriage since it was so early on. When you began becoming more stable and combating the pregnancy symptoms with ease, that’s when the two of you slipped back to your usual bedroom routine. You were limited to few positions, but seeing you in missionary was something he could never catch himself complaining about. Not only was your belly growing, your breasts were too—you had simply gotten him awestruck by doing nothing but existing. What a woman’s body is capable of is truly spectacular; who wouldn’t be captivated by the beauty of it? His thrusts were much gentler than usual; it felt as though you were having intercourse with a different person due to how careful he was being. It become more sensual, the bond between the two of you stronger than it had ever been. His eyes were filled with warmth as he gazed down at you, smiling softly while the back of his hand brushed against your cheek. No one had ever belonged to him before, nor had he belonged to anyone; it was a beautiful transition into this freshly blossoming future. He finally has discovered his sense of belonging is with you by his side. His idea to snap a picture of your belly during the weeks of growth led to half of a photo album filled with images of you, there for you to reminisce on after you enter labour.

AFTER THE PREGNANCY

Delivering a child was the most chaotic yet eye-opening experience for both of you—more so him who watched it from a fully different perspective, seeing everything up close. He never felt ill, nor was he disgusted; it was amazing how you carried around this bundle of life like it was nothing. While you were dosed on the epidural, he came out of the delivery room with gashes on his hands from the force your nails dug into him. There was no gender reveal since it was decided you wanted it to be a surprise, placing your separate bets on what the baby could be. Even though he wanted a boy, as soon as he saw his baby girl resting in your arms, he fell in love with her. Though she had a sparse head of hair, it was a similar colour to his. In his arms, she barely existed—nothing but a mere dot with her little white hat on. It was rewarding to see how far he come since you first met him; you couldn’t be more proud of him. You didn’t intend to change him, but he altered himself in ways he thought were necessary. He kept his witty humour and arrogance, the two things that truly make him who he is. It wouldn’t be your Sukuna if he wasn’t a handsome pain in the ass, finding ways to tease you yet also ways to comfort you and make you laugh in desperate times.

When you had taken the childcare classes for new parents before going into labour, he outdid himself in all preparations; he was like the student who thoroughly studied for the exam months before it even arrived. The reason he had been trying so hard is due to his fear of hurting the baby—he finds himself being rough without realising, often making the same mistakes while handling you. During nights, she would screech down the baby monitor right beside his ear, causing you both to stir. The duty of checking in on her was split on a makeshift roster, but you had been growing exhausted progressively with each passing day. Since there are days when he is up later than you, he sees to her to prevent the sudden outbursts happening during the early hours of the morning. She would weep and fuss until he took her into his arms. When she’d go silent, he would lean to lay her back down until she started up her cries again. The only thing that would calm her down was being held by her father.

Time flies by with the new addition to the household; your daughter is now able to grasp onto her favourite teddy bears at five months old. Her wardrobe is bigger than yours, and she managed to successfully steal the heart of your husband—the only competitor. All three of you would spend half of the day playing, chatting with her in the room since it would aid her mental skills. She seemed pleased seeing both of her parents, watching the two of you chatter and share innocent displays of affection. Her cooing noises would make you both grin; Sukuna couldn’t believe one of his creations could be so pure and full of love. Others told him he was nothing but distant and incapable of kindling sincere connections, but he managed to prove those who held a lack of faith in him wrong. He will admit that there were times he found the idea of love far too corny for a man like him, but accepting it into his life made it so much brighter, giving it a completely new meaning.

There came many troubles and stressful situations, but the excitement of raising a child made them all irrelevant to Sukuna. The two of you finally made time for an at-home date, sharing two light drinks and a meal. Men who fall out of love with their wives after they become mothers are nothing but weak in his eyes—if they cannot deal with one minor change, they would never amount to anything in life that involves them stepping free from their cowardly safety net. If anything, this journey made him realise how he truly wishes you would be the person who will die by his side; part of him hopes the two of you find a way to bypass death and live on together for eternity—it wouldn’t hurt to be optimistic. In the bedroom, he stripped himself free of his clothes, his gigantic figure looming over you while he stared down at you. He climbed on top of you, pinning your hands to your sides while he stole a kiss—yearning for your affection greater than ever before. That sparkle in your eyes never left; he remembers seeing it ignite for the first time when he first kissed you all those years ago.

“You are quite the woman, you know?” Sukuna hums, rubbing his nose against yours while his hair brushes across your forehead.

“I know, don’t you just love me so much?” You tease, poking your tongue out as you grin.

“I do, more than anything. You’ll always be my number one girl; our little angel comes in close second.”

“I used to be your angel” Your voice winds in a whiny tone, widening your eyes and curving your lips down to appear upset.

“You still are,” He kisses your cheek while his hand trails down to the waistband of your panties, twanging it against your skin as he speaks, “I miss your bump.”

“Do you want another baby?” You beam at him, your eyes crinkling and your hand squeezing his.

“If you want one, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

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