Gn//f//m Reader, Fluff, Established Rl

Hey sweetheart! You take requests at the moment? I'm currently healing from surgery (ow) and I just want some fluffy Eddie fussing over me/reader

One fluffy blurb, coming right up! I hope you get well soon 🥰

Warnings: Reader is recovering from surgery, mention of prescribed medication, mention of spicy activities, Eddie is a big ol' mush of a boyfriend

WC: 750

--

The sound of a handbell clanging has Eddie up from the sofa in a heartbeat. He’s learned your communication system over the last few days: one ring means you want some company, two means you’re hungry or need to use the bathroom, and three indicates an emergency. 

This was a three-ring. 

“Sweetheart?” There’s no camouflaging the alarm in his voice as he pushes into the bedroom. He finds you propped up against the pillows, book in hand. “What’s the matter? Are you dizzy again?”

You shake your head. “Could you get me a snack?” The doctor advised against taking the pain medication on an empty stomach, and you had no intention of breaking that rule. “Maybe some pretzels? Or a slice of toast with jelly?”

Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief. “You rang the bell three times,” he explains, soft irritation clipping his words. “I thought something was wrong.”

Glancing at the bell tucked against your thigh, you frown. “No, I only rang it twice. Or, wait…shit, I did ring it three times.” You exhale, sliding your bookmark between the pages and offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“S’okay.” He plops down onto the bed, careful not to jostle your elevated leg. “Just…give me a sec to get my heartrate back down to normal.” Hand to his chest, he takes deep, exaggerated breaths that have you giggling. 

“I mean, I could find something urgent,” you tease. “Maybe I’ll try walking without the crutches, or I can take out my stitches…”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles in a combination of disbelief and disgust. “Bullshit,” he counters. 

“Bullshit?”

“Bull. Shit.” He grins, gently poking your bicep. “You got all queasy that time you had to pull out a splinter, and you expect me to believe you can remove your own stitches?”

You let out a defeated groan. “Ugh, fine.” He knows you too well, and you love him for it. 

He gives you a triumphant kiss on the cheek and starts towards the kitchen. “Anything else the fair maiden needs while I’m up? More water? Ginger ale? Perhaps some champagne and caviar?” His eyes light up mischievously at the last suggestion. 

“I’m not supposed to drink on these meds,” you quip, playing right into his charade. 

“We’ll take a raincheck on the champagne, then.”

You shift back slightly, wincing as pain shoots through your leg. The surgery hurt more than the injury, and part of you wishes you had just muddled through and hobbled around instead of getting it fixed. 

Eddie returns a few minutes later with toast that’s just the right shade of burnt and slathered in strawberry jelly. He has a glass of water in his other hand, though you hadn’t asked for any. 

He places both on the snack table he’s set up next to the bed before reaching over and grabbing the bell. He rings it one time, loud and purposeful. 

“Can I help you?”

Nodding, he sits down. “I’m bored and need someone to talk to.” He rests his head on his pillow and pouts. “Entertain me?”

“There’s not much going on here.” You shrug, scanning the room for a conversation topic. He’s been taking care of you nonstop, and surgery recovery doesn’t exactly make for riveting discussions. Your eyes land on a magazine. “I read some interesting articles in Cosmo, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie waggles his brows. “Anything spicy?”

You flip to an article that provides explicit details on giving the perfect blowjob and point to the page. “This one was pretty raunchy.”

He studies it just long enough to read the headline before tossing it aside. “You don’t need any help with that. Trust me.” He smirks knowingly. “You probably could’ve written that article yourself.”

“Good to know.” Exhaling, you look over at him. “You can go hang out with the guys if you want. Or they can come over here, as long as they’re not too loud.”

You expect him to jump at the offer; anything to cure his bout of boredom, but he declines. “Nah, I’m good right here.” He snatches up the magazine once more and thumbs through it. “Besides, I need to find out what color palette matches my skin tone.”

“Eddie—”

He cuts you off with his pointer finger. “Shhh. This is life-changing stuff, Sweetheart. I mean, what if I’m…an ‘autumn,’ but I’ve been wearing ‘winter’ this whole time?” His face contorts in mock horror. “Talk about tacky.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

You absolutely do. 

--

Inked forever// Eddie Munson x fem reader.

The low hum of Eddie's favorite heavy metal playlist filled the air, the raspy voice of a singer echoing off the walls of his room. You were curled up on Eddie's bed, one leg draped lazily over his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the lines of a tattoo that stretched across his forearm. The intricate skull and rose design had always been your favorite.

He smirked, dark brown eyes flickering up from the comic book he was pretending to read. "See something you like, sweetheart?"

"Always," you teased, giving him a soft pinch on the arm. You couldn't help but grin at the boy sprawled out next to you. His wild curls fell messily around his face, his Hellfire Club shirt worn and slightly frayed at the edges. God, you loved him like this—comfortable, content, and completely unfiltered.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Eddie asked, setting his comic book aside. His fingers found their way to your hand, playing with your rings as he waited for you to speak.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lower lip—a habit Eddie found utterly adorable. The two of you had been dating for almost a year now, and it felt like you'd known each other for a lifetime. Eddie knew every inch of you, every tattoo that decorated your skin, and he loved them as much as you did.

"I was thinking..." you began, your voice soft. "Maybe we could get matching tattoos."

The room went silent for a moment, save for the faint crackle of a guitar riff in the background. Eddie's eyes widened, and then he let out a laugh—a soft, joyous sound that made your heart skip a beat.

"Are you serious?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. "You, Miss 'I don't need anyone to define me,' want us to get couple tattoos?"

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, Eddie, I'm serious. But I want something that actually means something to us, you know? Not just some cheesy hearts or initials."

Eddie's eyes sparkled with excitement as he sat up, pulling you closer. "You're on, sweetheart. I'm totally game. But..." He tapped a finger against his lips, pretending to think deeply. "What should we get? An upside-down devil? Or a mini guitar? Ooh, what about something D&D themed?"

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I was thinking something simpler, actually. Like... a design that represents us."

Eddie was quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning your face thoughtfully. Then he grinned, that mischievous smile that always made your knees weak. "What about a snake and a dagger? You've got that snake tattoo on your arm, and I've got the dagger on my chest. We could combine them—like two parts of the same whole."

The idea made your heart flutter. You knew how much Eddie loved his tattoos and how much thought he put into each one. To share something like that with him felt incredibly intimate. "I love that," you whispered, cupping his cheek in your hand. "Let's do it."

A few days later, you found yourselves standing in front of your favorite tattoo shop in downtown Hawkins. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink filled the air as the doorbell chimed behind you. Eddie held your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your knuckles.

The tattoo artist, a burly guy named Mike, grinned when he saw the two of you walk in. "The power couple is back," he teased, nodding toward your interlocked hands. "What's the plan this time?"

"We want matching tattoos," Eddie announced proudly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "A snake and dagger combo. But, you know, something that's badass enough to do us justice."

Mike chuckled, already pulling out his sketchpad. "You two are always full of surprises. Give me a minute—I've got just the thing."

As Mike worked on the design, you leaned into Eddie's side, feeling his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders. "Are you nervous?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"Not really," you replied. "I trust you. And I love that we're doing this together."

Eddie's eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "You're the coolest girlfriend ever, you know that? I can't believe you put up with my crazy ideas."

"Crazy is what I signed up for," you teased, pinching his side. "Besides, I think you're the one who puts up with me."

Before Eddie could respond, Mike returned with the sketch: a snake coiled around a dagger, the blade dripping with ink drops like they were blood. It was intricate, dark, and undeniably perfect.

"Holy shit," Eddie breathed, eyes wide. "That's amazing."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. "I love it," you said softly. "Let's do it."

Eddie insisted you go first, holding your hand the entire time as Mike brought the design to life on your forearm. The familiar sting of the needle was almost comforting, especially with Eddie's warm gaze locked on yours.

When it was Eddie's turn, he gritted his teeth but never let go of your hand, even when the needle traced over his ribcage where the dagger was placed. You couldn't help but admire him, his jaw clenched, eyes focused on you the entire time.

Once the tattoos were done, you both stood in front of the mirror, admiring the matching ink. The snake and dagger were almost identical, yet each tattoo had its own unique flair—just like the two of you.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Looks like we're officially inked for life, sweetheart," he murmured against your ear, his breath warm and comforting.

You turned in his arms, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his face. "Inked and in love," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. It was a kiss that tasted like forever—warm, fierce, and filled with all the promises the two of you had yet to make.

"Can't wait to show the Hellfire Club," Eddie said with a mischievous grin. "They're gonna flip when they see how badass my girl is."

You chuckled, your fingers lacing through his. "They better get used to it," you said, your voice soft but firm. "Because you're stuck with me now, Munson."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Eddie replied, pulling you close for another kiss, the ink still fresh on both your skins, binding you together in more ways than one.

The End.

Eddie imagine:

Imagine Eddie writing into every D&D campaign, a character that falls in love with your character. Or npc couples that are exactly like the two of you. You ask him one day why he does this. He just answered so casually like it was common knowledge, “because I’ll love you in every universe, time, and everything in between.”

A little New Year's Eddie imagine

You're trying your best to stay up for New Year's, but come 11:30 you are fast asleep on the couch, your head on Eddie's shoulder.

He smiles down at you, shaking his head in amusement, "Well, you tried."

He gently moves so he can lay down on the couch and pulls you down with him to lay on his chest and continues to watch the movie you had picked for the night.

Around 2am, you wake up snuggled up in Eddie's arms, "What time is it?"

Eddie turns the TV off, "A little after 2."

You immediately sit up, "No!" you whined, "I missed it!"

"It's alright, Sweetheart. There's always next year."

You look at him with a slight pout, "But I didn't get to give you a New Year's kiss."

An idea comes to Eddie and he jumps up from the couch and runs into his room. You hear him looking for something, tossing things about and mumbling, "Where the hell did I put it?" until he yells, "Ah ha!" and returns to the small living area of the trailer.

He holds out his alarm clock, "Ta da!"

"What's that for?"

"It's a magic trick, watch," he turns the dial on the back of the clock to move the hands back, "I turned back time, it's 11:59 now."

You feel your heart begin to melt, "Eddie, this the sweetest, and slightly weirdest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Eddie shrugs, "You're worth altering the space-time continuum for."

You walk over to him and hug him, "I love you."

"I love you too." he smiles and starts moving the hands of the clock again, "are you ready?"

"Yes!"

He starts to countdown from ten, and you join him, watching the hands of his alarm clock move towards the twelve at the top.

"five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!" You both shout.

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, which he returns eagerly.

"Happy New Year, Eddie."

"Happy New Year, Sweetheart."

thinking about arguing with husband!gojo. it’s funny because he’s the strongest sorcerer alive with several other, more wicked enemies harboring one sided hate for him, yet he’s anxiously glancing at you every now and then as you hiss at him. you’re the only one who can make him doubt his strength.

he usually finds you cute when you’re mad, but right now he doesn’t really appreciate the way your face is scrunched up and how you’re yelling at him.

it’s not his fault. he thinks you’re being so dramatic.

“you’re laughing at me,” you deadpan. “why do you never take things i say seriously?”

“because i honestly don’t think it’s that serious,” he fires back, and your eyes narrow. oh, fuck.

arguing with your husband is never fun. it’s probably because the both of you are stubborn; you’re stubborn because you’re simply right all the time, and satoru’s stubborn because if you’re not right, then he is.

you pause for just a second, but it’s enough to sprout a moment of extreme tension between you and your husband.

“right,” you scoff after you inhale sharply. “you just don’t care, do you?”

“don’t fucking say that,” satoru snaps. “i do care. that’s why i’m here.”

it takes everything in you to not shoot him another death glare. “so i should be thankful for the bare minimum?”

satoru blinks. he would’ve flinched, but he refuses to let you have that sort of power over him. “i’m not giving the bare minimum.”

“yes you are,” you argue back, voice straining as you swallow a lump of anger down the back of your throat.

the both of you are still. it feels like an eternity passes before the anger in you wanes. you’re exhausted and this fight with satoru is surely going to make the both of you upset enough to not talk for the rest of the night.

“i’m sorry that i’m not good enough,” satoru says, breaking the silence. you’ve never heard his voice so small, so pathetic—he’s never, ever shown you this side of him, and you’re starting to feel that dreading pit of guilt tug at your gut.

“that’s not what i meant,” you force yourself to say, sighing.

“but that’s what you’re thinking,” satoru mumbles. he avoids looking at your face.

“no it’s not,” you deny. “it’s never been about that.”

satoru gives you a wary look. “then what is it about? because i’ve done everything i can.”

“everything? really?” you sneer. “do you even love me anymore?”

silence. satoru swears he can hear your heart break.

“baby, don’t say that,” he groans, “c’mon, we were ten points away from three stars. that’s a single plate—one you didn’t turn in because you somehow forgot how to dash!”

you whip around to glower at satoru, your face twisting into an offended expression. “you set the kitchen on fire! how could i do something like serving a dish if the kitchen is on fire?!”

“baby, it’s the same button that it always has been this entire game!” he whines. “and you set the kitchen on fire! you keep forgetting to take the rice off the stove!”

you sigh exasperatedly, crossing your arms to act like some sort of shield between you and satoru’s (truthful) words.

“but you don’t chop up your stupid fish!” you protest. “so i end up doing five things at once!”

satoru opens his mouth to speak, but he knows you’re in the right. he opts to click his tongue instead.

“and every time i asked for help,” you add, frowning, “you just kept bringing out more of the dumbass cucumbers! we don’t have counter space for that!!!”

“that’s for prep to maximize our sushi making! throw it on the floor!”

“are you kidding me? that’s so unsanitary!”

“it’s a game!”

you’re both panting by the end of the fight. you’re biting down on your inner cheek and satoru is scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly.

“… sorry,” he mumbles. “i won’t bring out cucumbers anymore. and i’m also sorry for being mean about you not knowing how to dash.”

“good,” you huff. “‘cause i was seriously not gonna play anymore.”

“and…?” he prods, nudging you in your ribs. you can tell what he wants just by the sound of his voice.

“and i’m sorry for getting mad at you even though you’re doing you’re best at carrying me in this game…” you murmur, rolling your eyes.

satoru’s face brightens and he places a wet kiss on your cheek. “you’re forgiven.”

“love you, dummy.”

“love you too, baby.”

“no more cucumbers unless the ticket calls for them,” you remind him pointedly.

“yes, chef!”

Eddie at the beach headcaons

Eddie Munson x female reader

• he hates it lowkey, but only goes because you love it so much. you go all out and pack a picnic basket full of food and towels, sunscreen and even a pail and shovel as a joke.

• he hates the sand. that’s the worst thing about it. it gets everywhere in his hair and he’s always shaking his head like a dog trying to get it out.

• when dustin comes along they wrestle while you tan.

“eyes on me, henderson. not my lady.”

• he’s TERRIFIED of getting in the water and refuses to go in any deeper than past his knees. every time he brushes against seaweed or touches a seashell he screams like a little girl and runs out as quickly as he can.

• caused a fiasco because he yelled shark! and the whole beach flocked out of the water.

• likes it more when he lays on the beach towel with you and watches the sunset.

• burns so bad it’s not even funny, especially on his forehead.

• throws a fit when dustin knocks over his sand castle.

“I love you.”

Various jjba characters and how they express their affection for you

Content: lots of fluff and physical affection, inclusion of Dio being shallow and manipulative, alcohol and alcoholism mentioned, slightly suggestive

Written in headcanons style

Characters: Joseph Joestar (part 2), DIO, Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, Guido Mista, Gyro Zeppeli

-Joseph Joestar: You will be drowning in his loud affection one way or another. Such a physically affectionate partner, his lips pressed all over you, a constant flirt with wandering hands (and sometimes wandering eyes). He always aims to impress you or show off, and makes an effort to remember your likes and dislikes. He might tease, but he’s usually careful to not push you too far. Always jumping in to defend you; your sad face cuts him deeper than you know. You shouldn’t ever have to cry out of anguish, it is something he simply won’t stand for. If you do cry around him, you can guarantee he won’t be resting til you’re smiling again. He puts every effort into making you feel better when you’re down; it’s one of the rare moments you see him choose to behave seriously in front of you.

-DIO: Love…When you’re around him and he says his affection for you is deep and endless, it is very believable. He had such a way with words he could convince you of most anything, honestly. He could tell you you were the only one he ever saw, his favorite, he wishes he could spend his eternity by your side and of course he would if it wouldn’t be so cruel to take your humanity by turning you into a vampire. Or so he says.

It sounds ridiculous when you reflect on it when you’re away from him. Of course he’s just telling you what you want to hear, why do you keep coming back?!

And yet you return and return and return. Even though it was only shallow lust, if it came from Lord Dio it felt like you were with your soulmate. Maybe that’s the limit of the affection he will ever feel for you. A lust, a desire just deep enough that he will put some effort into taking care of you. His “love” comes from words, waxing empty poetic to you. And, of course, promising to give you whatever it is you truly want. He will make it happen. All you need to do is swear your loyalty to him, and he will grant you any desire you seek…

And if that desire is him? You can have your fill whenever you please~

-Rohan Kishibe: He is not a subtle man, nor does he try to be. A mere glance will show you the true impact you have on him…after all…you so often appear in his works. And so blatantly too. This character has your eyes. That character has a birthmark just like yours. One says things you would say. One dresses in your style. A piece of you, each time. It is how he wants it. He is proud to admit you are his ultimate muse, his favorite inspiration. Whenever he’s fighting art block, he turns to you.

Though, he is not so good with actually verbalizing the depths of his affection for you. He’s not the best at physical affection either. He won’t hold hands for long, he often doesn’t know how to respond to kisses and hugs, and usually he doesn’t get too close at night, if he even comes to bed at all.

It is enough for you. It doesn’t matter so much to you that he isn’t an expert in verbal or physical affection. You feel every ounce of his passionate love for you when he asks you to model for him, even though you know an exceptionally brilliant artist like him doesn’t need you to do a basic pose for him. And it does not go unnoticed to you that the poses he requests are always very comfortable for you to hold on the couch.

-Bruno Bucciarati: He takes care of you. It is what he does, and it is how he shows his love. You’re eating at a restaurant, he will pay the check. Stuck in a crowd? His hand will be on the small of your back, maybe subconsciously, or maybe deliberately, so he won’t lose track of you. He’ll drive you home at night, and wait til he sees you’re safely inside. He is a sanctuary.

Though he is not the most in tune with his emotions, and clear communication is difficult for him sometimes, but damnit if he doesn’t try for your sake. He’s very busy, but he makes an effort to carve out some time for you where you can both have some peace and quiet, and a heart-to-heart.

When it’s just the two of you, he’s able to lower that guard of his. You can always tell he’s tired. But he puts you and everyone else he cares about first, every time.

You lean against his chest. He is so tense, but he allows himself to slump his shoulders and hold you close. He talks for a bit, just being honest with you, vulnerable. And then he goes quiet, his chin resting against the top of your head.

His breathing is soft, his hands gently slide down your arms…he had fallen asleep. A rare opportunity for you to take care of him without him protesting has finally presented itself…

-Leone Abbacchio: Sure he is a jaded and broken and horribly grumpy man but he is also very capable of affection and care, even if he’s not the best at showing it. Despite his crass personality, he has suffered so much, so he can also empathize much more than you’d initially think. Though that doesn’t make him great at giving you comfort or affirming speeches. His love comes from reassurance; usually words are unnecessary. He’ll always sit beside you wherever you go. If someone tries to take his spot next to you at a restaurant, he’ll drag them out of that seat if he has to. What is his is also yours. You want to drink his wine? Sure, don’t mind the purple lipstick on the rim of the glass. The depth of his physical affection is deepest when you share a quiet evening together. His hand on your shoulder, face pressed against your neck. Whether it’s him taking a quick moment to reflect (you’re his pillar, and he’s reminded of it especially when his troubles seem to melt away when he presses his forehead against the back of your neck), or he’s a little drunk and trusts you to straighten him out (his pillar, his pillar…even when he’s indulged in too many bad habits and slurs his words and stains your neck with purple lipstick as he falls asleep nestled against you, you are always so kind and patient to him, but always firm). He is broken, his regrets follow him like a vengeful ghost, he will never be good enough for you in his own eyes. But damn it if he won’t at least try.

-Guido Mista: His hand in yours, quick kisses up your arms all the way up to your cheek. His bullets swirling around him constantly gushing about how nice and amazing you are and begging Mista to go see you again so they can Also see you. The mercilessness when he digs his fingers into your skin and tickles you until he ends up getting hurt from your elbow hitting his nose on accident from your squirming.

He calls your name just to get you to look at him. He thinks you smell SO good, especially after you freshen up with your favorite scent, but he actually worries about looking weird around you so he might not say anything. Guess he doesn’t realize it’s much weirder to silently sneak in sniffs instead of telling you he likes how you smell. He’s even more impulsive than usual when you’re involved. If he has money in his pocket and you seem slightly interested in something you can bet he’s opening up his wallet and buying it for you.

You do a lot for him, a steady and familiar comfort in his crazy life…so let him blow a couple bucks on you when he wants to. Seeing you happy when he manages to get you something you like is one of his greatest joys in life.

-Gyro Zeppeli: Watch his hands, he’ll put them all over you when the opportunity presents itself. He’s not a gentleman, you already knew that. He doesn’t even try to talk like one. He loves how you feel in his lap, and he’s not shy about saying it out loud. One of life’s greatest joys is a drink in one hand, and his other hand supporting the back of a cute thing like you sitting on his thighs. If you walk by him, you Know that man is gonna try and playfully spank you. Put your hands in his hair, he loves when you play with it, but choose your timing because it might put him in a mood if you tug on it. And of course he’ll delight you with the spin, if you let him. He uses it so gently with you, easing your sore muscles after a long day, or sending pleasant sensations rippling across your skin. Or using it to cause a bit of mischief. A sudden jolt through your body when he wants your attention, or a relentless tickling that has you laughing and writhing and begging him to knock it off.

He holds onto you like a teddy bear when the two of you snuggle up for the night. His muscular arms wrapped around you, clinging to you, snuggling his face against you.

It can be suffocating at times. He’s just so. Big and strong. But damn do you feel safe, and you haven’t the heart to push him away when he wants to hold you at night.

He does this thing where he gives you something he values, so you can hold onto it for him and give it back to him later. It’s how he shows his trust for you. Hold on to one of his belt buckles, or his goggles, or his hat…give it back at your leisure. He insists. He knows you’ll keep it safe, and it’ll remind you of him if you hold onto it. In his eyes it’s a win win.

Spencer Reid who always loses chess to you. At first the team really does think he's letting you win, until they notice him getting a little frustrated because he can never win. You're not even particularly good at chess, Spencer just somehow always loses. It makes no sense to him or the rest of the team. He does find it rather endearing though, the fact that you're the only person who can actually keep up with him in any aspect.

Some nights Eddie can’t fall asleep unless you play with his hair. Nights where he needs those comforting touches after a long day. Those nights find him lying on your chest, wishing to be held as your hands work their magic, one gently caressing up and down his back as the other works its way through his hair. Combing your fingers through the thick curls, twirling strands round and round, massaging his sensitive scalp as the content sighs slip from him.

A finger traces along his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“That tickles,” he chuckles sleepily as he rubs his face into you, arms squeezing you a bit before relaxing.

Your fingers not stopping even as his snores fill the quiet room.

𝝑𝝔 an: cool bf sukuna and loser gf set in college or uni is a dream for me cuz im the loser yk :(( also if you have thoughts on this concept or wanna share anything else feel free to do so!!

cool boyfriend sukuna with a loser girlfriend!!

whenever you make a lame joke sukuna’s only reaction is to place his whole palm over your face and push it away as he just leaves. you can only whine and trail after him with a sheepish smile, knowing that he doesn’t really mind from the way he looks over his shoulder to check on you.

you utter something extremely dumb and sukuna thinks it’s his duty to hit you on the back of your head with a roll of his eyes, causing you to groan in pain and rub the spot with a sniffle. if he feels like he hit a little too hard he will tug you into himself and place a kiss on that spot with a quick apology, the corners of his lips quirking up when you beam at his words.

you’d make an exaggerated reaction to something and he is always there to mock the hell out of that small moment, ignoring your whines of how he’s not funny. when your hand pinches his forearm he stops and looks at you with a scowl, and you better run because sukuna will give back tenfold, no hesitation. though he will soothe the spots with rubs later that night because he is a softie like that.

he also likes to make you trip with his foot, he likes to hug you a little too tight so that it hurts and you start whining, he likes to tug at your hair whenever he gets a chance, he likes to shake the table to mess up your writing, likes to take your phone away from you and run to make you chase him because he knows you hate running.

sukuna is such a menace to you and you still love him and hang around and he adores it.

+ bonus!

imagine seeing other girls flirting with him when you’re about to approach him in the hallway, and sukuna notices from the corner of his eye how your mood cartoonishly changes from sun to a rainy cloud, shoulders slumping in defeat as you turn to go back and sukuna can’t help rolling his eyes as he pushes the girls away and catches up to you with rushed steps.

“what’s with the sour face?” he nods his chin with a smirk, knowing exactly what’s up.

you shake your head with a pout, looking down at your feet, and continue walking, but sukuna once again just rolls his eyes and quickens his pace to stop in front of you so you stumble into him. he makes sure that the girls from before see him clearly before he his fingers close around his cheeks and bring your face closer to place a soft kiss on your lips.

with wide eyes and a distressed expression, you stare at him in disbelief and sukuna can only shake his head at how cute you are before his face returns to his usual annoyed one, hand lifting up to flick your forehead roughly.

“ow! ‘kunaa~ what was that for?!”

“tsk,” he kisses the spot, hand on the back of your head to keep you close, “that’s for being dumb.”