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Sukuna learnt English simply by hearing you speak for a month. He’d copy your lips, how they pouted and folded, mouthing the foreign words silently. It was a good excuse to stare at your lips for hours on end.
He’d won wars, what was a wee little language to his might? Though, as he struggled to pronounce this one darned word for the fifth time, you admit that it did put up an admirable fight.
“Lrl-oman-cuh” “Romance.” “Lrl-omance”
“It’s a hard ‘R’ sound, Sukuna.” “You told me never to say the hard R.” “That’s a different thing, try this again?”
“It’s said,” and you could glean the mischief he was planning, “that it’s easier to learn languages when one understands the meaning of words. And I, for one, am a visual learner.”
“Explains why you could speak ‘rice’ and ‘riddle’ but not ‘romance’.” You scoff at his cunning masterplan… to be romanced? “I suppose it goes a bit like this.” You bring the back of his hand, the weight needing two of yours to simply lift it, to your lips, and mumble through your kiss– “Romance.”
He cradles your cheek in his palm, covering half your head. “Lrlr-omance.”
You kiss his wrist, inside of his elbow, bicep, shoulder, and whisper into the crook of his neck– “Tongue to your hard palate, romance. Will you stop joking now?”
“I can, unfortunately, only say llomance.” He lets you peck his lips, rest your forehead on his, rub noses. It’s a different world now– different ways to show affection, different languages to pick up. “And no, I won’t, not until you teach me well.”
“Perhaps you simply can’t.” “Mayhaps I can. Watch, reta–” “–I get it.”
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a/n: sukuna– “how do you say, eh, browwjobbe? im a visual learner btw.”