Chapter Text
Sukuna was loud. Not just in the way that his voice carried, but him. His hulking frame that filled whatever room he was in, his tattoos and piercings that drew stares and pulled whispers from those he was with, his mere presence was impossible to ignore.
And because of that, it always seemed like others got louder around him too. Like they were trying to compete with him, fearing that they'd get lost in his shadow if they didn't. Sometimes it was amusing. Sometimes sukuna relished in the knowledge that others would do so much, just because they were intimidated, maybe insecure, or just wanted his attention. But there were times too, like tonight, where he just couldn't stand it — that there was never a moment of silence.
He was on edge more than usual already, having had a trying day, but he still decided to go out to the bars with some friends. He thought maybe it would take his mind off things.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
The entire night was a fucking headache. His jaw was aching from how hard he was clenching it in irritation. His temples and the spot between his eyes were throbbing from having his brows furrowed all night. It felt like everyone was in a 'let's piss sukuna off' competition, and they were all winning. And so, after only a mere hour, he was pulling out his phone and clicking on your contact, practically begging you to come pick him up.
You laughed softly through the line, and he could already feel the tension in his shoulders dissipating. He felt like he could finally breathe again when you told him be there in five.
Shortly after that, Sukuna found his relief in the oasis that was your apartment. It was warm from having the oven on, the familiar aroma of chocolate chip cookies filled the air, a lingering sweetness on his tongue from the few (ten) that he ate.
You both had already changed back into your pajamas, your hair held back with fluffy pink headbands, face masks on. He was laid across your couch that was much too small for someone of his size, his head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his head lightly. He had his hand resting on your thigh, mindlessly tracing little circles on your skin. His favorite moments were always these ones. With you. When he could finally enjoy a moment of peace and just be. No pressure to conform to the the loud persona everyone imagined him as.
And so, the two of you sat in comfortable silence as the tv played softly in front of you, rolling an old 2000's chick flick (that he'd picked out).