RAHHH SAILOR MOON THEME

RAHHH SAILOR MOON THEME

I need to bite sukunas biceps SO BADDD

Im so atrociously down bad for this man 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

LUCKY FOR BOTH OF US, I CAN MAKE THAT HAPPEN!

-

Sukuna's been... bulked, these days.

Even from the beginning stages of your relationship, he's always had muscle, but lately he's been focusing more on weights to really, really bulk those muscles. His thighs strain in his pants, his pecs are tight in his shirts, and every now and again, some threads pop as he tugs his shirts over his bulging biceps.

Biceps that have swollen massively in the few weeks of his program, biceps that wrap snugly around you when cuddling, biceps that you can't help but stare at as he moves and goes about his day.

Even now, as he stands in front of the fridge with his lips tucked into the spout of apple juice, the arm holding the jug is flexed slightly as his adams apple bobs from swallowing the sweet juice. You sink your teeth into your lip as he finally turn to face you. "What're you looking at?"

"Just you, violating my apple juice," you sigh, but in reality, your mouth waters at the muscles shifting as he shrugs. you slowly approach him with your eyes fixated on his arm, and one you get to a close proximity, you hook your arms through his and hold it close, nose burying against the muscle and relishing in the smell of his cheap body wash.

So good...

"Didn't want to waste a cup, didn't expect you to be awake, so I just- OWWWWWHATTHEFUCK?!"

You bite him. Hard.

You're not entirely sure when, or why, but you turn your head to sink your teeth into his skin and muscle, chomping down roughly once you make contact. Your nails dig into the other parts of his arm, as if to keep it from moving as he shakes you to get off. "THAT HURTS, STOP-"

You shake your head, and flick your eyes up at his. His face is scrunched in annoyance, but there's no real rage in his eyes, just confusion and discomfort. He uses his free hand, the hand currently not being absolutely chomped on, to try and push your head back, only being released when your giggles make yourself falter. He whines and looks down at the red, perfect imprint of your teeth on his bicep before flicking his gaze back to you. "ARE YOU INSANE?"

"You just looked too yummy," you explain calmly, admiring the blooming mark on his bicep. “The demons told me to.”

“I will fucking kill you and your demons,” he growls, his thick hand coming up to cradle his arm. “Get away from me you feral, feral being.”

You grin up at him, “I’m gonna bite you again.”

His eyes harden, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I dare.”

“Get away from me,” he says, a panic in his voice as you nod and step towards him. “Get aWAY-“

“IM GONNA BITE YOU!”

“FUCK AWAY FROM ME-“

Picture Perfect

Choso Kamo

AO3 :)

just a soft moment with Chosito (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

3k

SFW but minors shoo shoo

“This one.” Choso points to a photo near the edge of the table. The white space at the bottom of the Polaroid reads the photo is from October, last fall. He picks up the photo to examine it further, feeling his cheeks warm as the idyllic memory swarms into his mind. A lucent smile stretches across your face, eyes nearly appearing to be closed and crinkling at the corners. One of Choso’s arms is wrapped around your shoulder while his lips are pressed against your cheek.

The lush foliage of the trees in the background almost makes it look like the two of you are situated perfectly in front of a backdrop. It was the first time either of you had been apple picking, bringing your camera along to ensure the memory was solidified was an absolute necessity. 

“Oh, for sure.” Gently taking the photo from his hand, you delicately slide it into the photo album right below one of the two of you sharing a snow cone at a fair over the summer. “What about that one?”

Choso’s gaze follows the direction of your finger pointing to a photo on the opposite edge of the table from the previous one he just picked up. It’s one of the two of you on New Years with purple and gold tinfoil hats on your heads and wearing 2024 shaped glasses. “That’s definitely a good one.” He reaches for the photo, admiring it for a moment before he hands it to you. Flipping to a clean page, you repeat the task of sliding it into the album.

“It’s coming along pretty nicely, don’t you think?” you ask with a smile, turning to face him. There’s only four pages left to fill and with the abundance of photos you have, it looks like you’re going to have to buy another photo album sometime soon. 

It’s been a little over three years since you met Choso, and closing in on two since you started dating. 

Being immune to customers trying to charm you at the bar you worked at was more or less one of the cardinal rules. It was pretty exhausting trying to attend to all the customers while someone was trying to use pick up lines they memorized from Reddit on you. They were always on the ends of two extremes, either being so excruciatingly cringe that you swore every patron was replaced with crickets and made it known absolutely no one was entertained, or they were unusually charming but still not worthy of being dignified with your time. 

For the longest time, you remained completely unaffected by anyone’s attempt to capture your attention and gain your affections. It didn’t matter how many drinks people offered to buy you or claims of taking you away from this place (as if you were some kind of stray cat wandering the streets looking for a home…) they would make. The only concern you had was being polite enough to earn the tips you rightfully deserved.

That changed the day a very peculiar man stepped through the doors of the bar. 

The first time you saw Choso, the air seemed to be charged with electricity. It seemed like a spotlight was on him, following his every move as he made his way through the crowd to take a seat at one of the elevated stools. From the scar running across his nose to his hair styled in two pigtails sitting atop his head, it was pretty impossible not to notice him. 

Not that the bar was some staple for locals, or even located at the edge of town. It was in the heart of downtown on a block with more bars and even more prominent nightlife, but there were a lot of regulars. It was easy to consider that maybe he came more often during the day since you mainly worked nights, but the way some of your other coworkers and patrons alike were staring at him, it was obvious that wasn’t the case.

“Hey.” It was almost startling how someone uttering a simple word could make them so starkly different from everyone else around them. There was no stupid ‘term of endearment’ tacked on to the greeting, no trace of a hungry gaze threatening to eat you alive. 

“Hi there.” The roles were reversed, you being the one drinking in his appearance until your thirst was quenched. He almost looked out of place with the purple rings encasing his eyes, his sleepy and stoic appearance contrasting the liveliness of the bar around him. “What can I get for you?”

When his gaze met yours, it seemed like you were looking at a completely different person. His impassive expression morphed into something more distinguishable, though it was a bit hard to tell exactly what it was. Sorrow? Anguish, maybe?

He just let out a sigh as a hand brushed back some of the stray hairs resting on his forehead. “Just something strong, I guess.”

Silently you nodded, turning around and looking over all the liquors and contemplating what you would make. In any other instance you would never willingly make this for a customer, usually internally groaning whenever one ordered it, but it actually did seem like he needed this. Quickly getting all of the necessary components, you made him a Long Island Iced Tea garnished with two pieces of lemon and a straw. 

“You only get one of these though.” Pushing the drink toward him, you watched his hand curl around the glass, his exposed forearms slightly bulging. “On the house.”

“Thank you.” Another tired sigh escaped from him before he took a small sip of the all too alcoholic concoction. It must have been his first time having one judging from the grimace that lined his lips and the intense furrow of his brow after a single taste. He took another small sip, shaking his head with a sputter and pushing it back towards you. 

“Too much?” you laughed, deciding to take a sip of the drink yourself. His reaction wasn’t an exaggeration at all. With the two sips he took there was a very strong possibility he was already tipsy.

He nodded in response to your question. “Sorry for wasting your time.” He blew out a third sigh as he folded his arms and let them rest on the counter. “I can pay for it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Drinking on the job was very generally looked down upon, but you were sure one of your coworkers would be happy to drink it. Hell, if you yelled out who wanted a free drink another customer would probably swoop in and drink it without even questioning what it was. “Let me make you something else.” Most people wouldn’t turn down a free drink, but you turned quickly before he could potentially reject the offer. 

Oh so familiar with the set up, you swiftly prepared him another drink, a much milder one this time.

Turning to face him once more, you slid the drink garnished with a cherry to him. There were still some traces of distress lingering in his eyes, but this cocktail seemed to soothe him much more than the previous one that could have all but killed him.

“What kind of alcohol is in this?” He took another sip. “This is really good.”

“A really mild vodka.”

“Really?”

“No,” you laughed. His eyes widened as heat started to rise to his cheeks, a prominent blush staining his pale skin. “It’s just a shirley temple, no liquor.”

“Oh.” A sheepish smile formed on his face as he brought the straw to his lips for another sip. He looked so charmingly boyish, you just wanted to put him in your pocket and bring him home with you. “It is really good though, you must be the best bartender here.”

There was no omitting you were more seasoned than some of your other coworkers, but there was no reason to brag. Instead you just shrugged. “I just don’t think the drink was as self soothing as you thought it would be.”

Over time you seemed to develop a knack for these sorts of things with all the people from all different walks of life that found their way in here. Some people really were better off drowning in liquor and their sorrows, but that didn’t seem to be the case here. 

He blinked at you silently, as if you had just read him like a book. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He didn’t say anything more as he finished his drink.

Taking the empty glass, you prepared another one for him, which again he didn't object. There were other patrons that you could have started tending to, but there was something so alluring about this man that you couldn’t quite put your fingers on. Normally you’d be completely uninterested in whatever problems your customers had, instantly tuning them out the moment they decided that this was some sort of free therapy session and you were lending them an ear, but you found yourself actually wanting to know.

When he finished the second drink you made him a third—a virgin mojito. He didn’t ask any questions when you slid it to him, just nodding and taking a grateful sip.

“Any reason you were trying to give yourself alcohol poisoning?” you asked playfully with a raised brow.

He finished taking another sip before a soft laugh left his lips. Even with all the noise of the bar you could hear it clearly, such a delightful sound from a demure looking person. “Just kind of upset with myself.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t want to come off as too overbearing, but his words were just the tip of the iceberg, the true weight of them miles below the surface. 

“I hope you’re giving yourself some grace, at least.”

“It’s kind of hard.” His eyes found yours, silently asking for permission to continue. It wasn’t a look of pleading and desperation, but a gentle one of someone just looking to be heard, to be seen. You nodded, the head movement conveying that you were there with open arms. “I’m a terrible brother.”

His gaze left yours, downcast to the liquid in the glass. “There was this convention one of my younger brothers wanted to go to in a few months. He’s been talking about it for weeks and saving some of the money from his part time job to get the tickets. I told him not to worry about it.” He gulped before he continued. “But something else came up. One of my other brothers had a pretty bad reaction at this potluck hosted by his job, they didn’t know he’s allergic to sesame.” 

You listened intently, watching as one of his fists clenched as he went on. “They should have, I’m pretty sure they asked everyone if they were sensitive to anything, but whatever.” The veins in fist throbbed beneath his skin, somber eyes seemingly igniting with anger as he recalled the situation. “I’m not sure exactly what it was that he ate, but he had a pretty serious reaction.” He shook his head. “Of course his job was so sorry for being the reason he experienced anaphylaxis.”

“Oh my god, is he… is he… ”

This time, a rueful laugh left his lips. “He’s fine now. He had his epipen, but he still went to the hospital after.” His shoulders slumped as he sighed. “I had to use pretty much all of the money I was putting aside for those convention tickets and then some to cover the hospital bill.” Another mirthless laugh. “And that was after what the insurance covered.”

It was hard connecting his story back to the first point he made. “How does that make you a bad brother?”

He furrowed his brow like the answer was obvious. “My younger brother… ” He shook his head. “I let him down. The tickets for that convention are all sold out. I told him to look out for ones being resold and I can see what I can do, but he said he doesn’t want to run the risk of getting scammed.”

“Do you hear yourself?” He looked almost offended, but you spoke again before he could interject. “I’m pretty sure your younger brother isn’t complaining about what you had to use the money for.”

“But—”

Rarely were you ever dismissive of what people had to say, but you needed him to hear these words. “You saved your brother from medical debt. I’m positive both your brothers are pretty grateful about that.”

“That’s the thing.” He forwent the straw and brought the glass to his lips to finish the drink. “My younger brother isn’t upset at all. He’s even telling me it’s no big deal. It’s just… I don’t know… It feels shitty that I couldn’t do both.”

“You can’t do everything, no matter how hard you try.” He opened his mouth to speak but you raised your palm to stop him. “Neither of your brothers are upset, forgive yourself.”

He looked at you like you said something in a language that he couldn’t understand before the fight finally left his body, blowing out a breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right… ”

Tentatively, you reached out to touch his hand that wasn’t clenched in a fist. He peered down where your hands met his skin, his other fist starting to relax. Admittedly, he had a bit of a vampiric appearance (albeit, an extremely sexy one that you would let bite you), but he was warm to the touch. “I’m never wrong, just trust me.”

Finally, a laugh that was laced with amusement left his lips as he nodded. “Something is telling me to believe you.”

For a moment both of your eyes met, the moment more charged than you expected it to be. “Well if you ever want to not drink yourself to death again, I’ll be here.”

“Choso,” he introduced with a now radiant smile. In turn you introduced yourself, and as many say, from there the rest was history.

“It looks really good,” he agrees with a nod of his head as his eyes scan the photos for which one to add next. He wishes he weren’t as indecisive, but he can’t help it. Every single photo holds a dear memory of moments—big and small—of your relationship. His fingers hover over a particular one, gripping it gently before presenting it to you. “Can we include this one?”

His voice is just a little bit smaller than before, the tiniest thread of doubt in his tone. Taking the photo from him, you press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, instantly making his cheeks ignite.

“Come on, Cho.” The shyness of the question is borderline ridiculous. “Of course we can.”

Sliding the photo into the album, the smile already on your face grows even larger, making your cheeks start to ache as the fond memory captured comes to the forefront of your mind.

See, before you even knew Choso’s name it was obvious how much he valued family. Not that you didn’t hold yours close to your heart, but his love and devotion ran so much deeper. Whether it was through a phone call, text, or a video call, he talked to each of his brothers every day. 

Every interaction highlighted the distinct parts of his personality; soft yet stern, docile yet confrontational, honest enough to deliver the truth but gentle enough to consider the feelings of others before it spewed from his mouth. Somehow he’s able to morph himself into the person his siblings would need at any given moment without losing any part of himself. He’s like a disco ball, every part of him glimmering no matter which way you spin him.

Naturally, the prospect of meeting his brothers intimidated you. If they disliked you, would that be the end of your relationship? Would they tell Choso that he could do better? The thought of the people who meant the world to the person that gradually became the light of your life holding any sort of disdain towards you was distressing.

Sweat slicked your palms and the lump in your throat wouldn’t go down the night you were set to meet them over dinner. You’d insisted on preparing everything yourself even though your hands trembled with every slice of the knife. Choso—always so perceptive—wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood in front of the stove and pressed a soft kiss behind your ear. “Stop worrying.”

“What?” A nervous laugh bubbled out of you. “Who says I’m worried?”

“Hey.” He made quick work of spinning you around, pressing his body against yours as one of his hands cupped your face, thumb grazing against your cheek. “You have nothing to worry about. I already love you, they will too.” He followed his reassuring statement by letting his lips brush against yours, the familiarity helping to ease the nerves in your body. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Everything turned out to be more than fine, all of his brothers greeting you warmly and making conversation as if they’ve known you for years. Sitting at the head of the table, all Choso could do was simply cherish the moment, relishing in the fact that all the people he loved were sitting in the same room, learning to love each other.

“We have to take a picture!” you beamed as the night winded down.

All his brothers nodded in agreement, choosing to either smile or throw up a peace sign while Choso pressed his cheek against yours with one arm outstretched the snap the moment.

“I just… ” He shrugs, cheeks still burning. “Didn’t know if you wanted to include them, thought you might have wanted it to be just us.”

As if Choso is really himself without his brothers. “Well they’re my family too now, aren’t they?” You start to feel heat rising to your own cheeks as you reach for his hand and entwine your fingers. “They have just as much place in this album as the pictures of just you and I.”

Choso has never felt this accepted, so complete with someone that is comfortable proclaiming his family as their own. It takes a lot to keep tears as bay as he feels his heart tripling in size in his chest, overcome with the sweetness of your words and the affections that they hold. He squeezes your hand as he nods. “Yeah, they are.”

You fill the remaining pages with more pictures that you’ve taken with his brothers since that fateful day, and you never wish ill upon anybody, but with the tenderness and comfort of this new found family, you’re grateful he was never able to get those convention tickets. 

this too shall pass

a/n: yeah uh i'm so sorry 😀 i wrote this in 10 mins again i was definitely in my feelings

warnings: pure angst, hurt no comfort, chapter 236 spoilers, mention of death, not proofread

Imagine having feelings for Gojo. The strongest, the untouchable. The most handsome man you've ever seen with his soft, white hair that glistens in the sun and glows in the moonlight. His Six Eyes always glowing the color of the most beautiful ocean you've ever seen, otherworldly and out of reach.

It isn't easy seeing an absolute God in a mere man so close to you but so far. How do you compare to a man that is just absolute perfection?

You've had these feelings for Gojo since highschool, always too scared to tell the tall man how you feel because how could you? When you could see the many women and men who approach him like he's theirs, when he responds with a sweet, sickly smile and flirts with them like it was the best thing that happened to him that day.

You want the ground to swallow you whole whenever you see these interactions. Especially when the latest one was a the newest beautiful sorcerer transferred to Jujutsu High who attached herself to Gojo's side like a leach and Gojo just allows it, even giving the slightest faint touches to her increasingly exposed skin with every meeting they had.

It's like the tears come so easy, walls that you so desperately try to build up stronger and stronger each time just crumbles like it was made out of paper. The pain in your chest gets deeper and deeper each day until it feels like a knife is stabbing your heart directly.

But you go on with your day, fake smiles and fake laughter as Gojo comes up to you so easily with this wide grin while wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He was so cruel, unfair, but how can you blame him when he doesn't even have a single clue on how you think about him everyday like a lover?

Then what happens when Gojo does reciprocate those feelings? When he thinks of you the same way. Six Eyes always on you wherever you are on school grounds to keep you safe, silently changing your schedule to take the missions he thinks will endanger you.

But he was selfish? Or selfless? He keeps his distance, he doesn't think he deserved you. You were pure, beautifully made by the heavens, a kind of happiness he didn't think the Gods allowed him to have.

So when you get a heartfelt letter with a velvet box shortly after his death, a confession of love and care that was carefully brewing for decades now spilling onto your hands as your wide eyes shakily takes in the words he was telling you. You decide that love truly was the most twisted curse of them all.

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