Blutwolfreiter - Kei - Tumblr Blog

This is so beautiful ♡ I have no words to describe it

Terrarium wings Brittle things My imaginary Sanctuary Part of my Glass Wings Series

content contains pro athlete!rin, he eats it like a champ, implied overstim, wet n messy <3

rin itoshi looks so cool, so calm and collected on the outside, that even after all these years, you still can't wrap your head around how different he gets when the two of you are alone. no one can believe that he's such a doting, loving boyfriend, and you like knowing that rin saves all the sweetest parts of himself just for you.

one thing about rin, though, is that his ego doesn't leave much room for discussion.

it's why he doesn't listen to you when you tug at his thick locks of hair, legs practically shaking, your thighs closing around his head as you whimper out a "rin, i-i can't take anymore!" you've already given him two orgasms, both of them being wrung out from you with just his tongue.

rin is prone to entering a state of hyper focus; you would think this level of concentration is reserved just for the field, but if anything, he has a tendency to go to the extreme when it comes to pleasuring you. he craves your release like he's trying to score a hat trick during a high-intensity game. and right now, to the pain and pleasure of your overly sensitive pussy, rin is in that same dedicated state right now.

he's sloppy when he gets like this. his greed gives him a hunger that can never be satiated, so all you can do is continue to tug at his hair, trying to ignore the warmth of your lower belly, the tightness of the muscles of your legs. rin's fingers dig indentations into your hips as you involuntarily thrust up your hips, bringing your cunt even closer to his starving mouth.

the ministrations of his tongue are unrelenting, and when his body demands that he actually get some oxygen into his lungs instead of trying to drown himself in your sweet pussy and sticky arousal, he slowly and reluctantly leaves his position from between your thighs. you're an absolute mess, but so is your rin. his lips are shiny with your juices, chin dripping with your arousal, cum, and strings of spit 'n drool. his cheeks are flushed a light pink, his hair is an absolute mess, and he's panting just the slightest.

right when you're about to tell him how much you love him and how it's time you two get cleaned up, especially since he has an early morning practice tomorrow, he's diving back in.

"just ten more minutes." he whines into your pussy, before he continues his relentless assault on your cunt. all you can do is throw your head back and moan out his name, not bothering to point out that he said the same thing fifteen minutes ago.

SCENE INSPIRED BY CHAPTER 21 OF COANDA EFFECT BY @bunnieshoneys ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

I LOV THE SOO MUCH ITS MY BRAINROT RIGHT NOWWW AAAAAAAAAAAA TY FOR THIS

nanami kento swore that he didn't love you. he just memorized your coffee order because it was the most basic decent thing to do. not because it gave him an excuse to talk to you, even if it was for two minutes.

nanami kento swore that he didn't love you. he just always kept a spare hair tie with him because you once mentioned that you always forget to bring an extra with you during missions. not because he always remembered every little thing you had ever said.

nanami kento swore that he didn't love you. he just didn't particularly like gojo, especially when he was making you laugh. not because he wanted you to laugh like that with him.

nanami kento swore that he didn't love you. he just felt his heart drop to his stomach when you got injured on a mission because that's what he'll feel for any other colleague. not because he couldn't bear the idea of not seeing you ever again or hearing you call him 'kento, my angel.'

nanami kento swore that he didn't love you. he just asked to be paired with you because you spoke the least amount of nonsense and you proved to be a good company. not because he was slowly losing interest in talking to anyone else who wasn't you.

nanami kento swore that he didn't love you. he just read the books you recommended because they were already on his reading list. not because he wanted to talk to you all the time about everything and anything under the sun.

nanami kento swore that he didn't love you. he just brought you your favourite food whenever you seemed in a bad mood because he needed you to focus on the task. not because he didn't like seeing you upset and the thought of you being all sad and teary-eyed made his heart hurt.

nanami kento swore that he didn't love you. he just hated the idea of you loving someone else.

Sukuna will make you beg before helping you with things he’s obviously good at.

You’re playing Wii sport with your friends on a Saturday night at your and your boyfriend’s shared home, like you’re used to doing every week. After a round of baseball you and one of them are at a draw. Your friends decide to play with “the boyfriends” for the last round, choosing bowling as the last game.

You turn to Sukuna preparing yourself to convince him to play. He’s the absolute best at bowling, and everyone in the room knows it, but he’s also a stuck up bitch that never wants to play. He says that there’s no fun if everyone is so shit he doesn’t even have to try hard to win.

“Babe, please-“

“No.” He interrupts you.

“But-“

“Nah.”

“Why not?” You whine, putting your left hand on his bicep and shaking his arm. He takes a swig of the beer he’s holding with that arm, muscles bulging, looking down at you with his piercing maroon eyes.

“Because I said so,” he remarks.

“But I can’t play alone, and I’ll be last if I don’t play,” you pout.

“You’ll get over it,” he shrugs. You’re still holding his arm, and despite the way he’s portraying himself, he loves the physical contact you’re having. He’s possessive; if he could crumple you up and keep you in his pocket, he would.

“I hate you.”

“You know you don’t, baby,” he says smirking, finishing up his drink, still looking at you with both his real and tattooed eyes.

“Thought you didn’t want to date a loser,” you say, changing approach. You see a spark in his gaze. Bingo. But he’s not there yet.

“I’ll make an exception,” he continues.

“Oh, okay, I’ll just tell the others that the duo who owns this house will not be playing and therefore will be last,” you provoke him turning around and walking towards your friends.

He grabs your waist and slams your back on his strong chest. You try to hide your smile.

“You minx. If we don’t fucking win, you’re sleeping on the couch,” he whispers aggressively in your ear.

“Sir yes sir.”

That night you snuggle closer to him on your shared bed before falling asleep.

Some frog wizard magic ✨

"i won't be able to see you for a while."

the tokyo streets slip past outside your window, but your eyes aren't quite following the scenery. you feel a little dizzy thanks to the wine satoru kept pouring over dinner—filling only your glass, as usual. it was a vintage you could never have dreamed you'd get the chance to taste only a few short months ago; a luxury so distant that you'd never once even thought about what it might be like to try. now it lingers on your tongue, stains your lips slightly, feels familiar in ways you still struggle to reckon with.

you tilt your face towards the man sitting beside you in the back of the car that's taking you home.

"a while?" you ask him curiously, though that's perhaps not the most important query.

satoru hums, smiling a little to himself as his fingers press against the pulse point on your wrist. he's been toying with your hand ever since you left the restaurant, but you've hardly paid it any notice.

satoru's touch used to be limited to the spectacle. his hands only reaching out for you when someone was there to witness it. at one time, satoru would have changed cars before his driver took you home. at one time, he would have dropped your hand the moment the door shut behind you. but he doesn't now.

you've grown strangely used to this, too.

"are you going away for work again?" you ask him when he offers no further elaboration. it's not that you're particularly concerned with where he's going, or why, or for how long. satoru's life always has been, and always will be, solely his own. you're no more his keeper than you are his true fiancée—and the funds that will be deposited into your bank account by the time you make it home this evening are testament to that truth.

but you ask because it feels like the natural thing to do.

though very little about anything you do with satoru ought to be considered natural.

"no," the blonde answers, with that troublesome lilt of mirth in his voice that always seems to precede something unpleasant. you don't ask any more questions in an attempt to ward it off.

soon you reach your destination, the rest of the car ride spent in silence after your brief but relatively benign exchange earlier in the drive. you glance out through the window towards your apartment—a building so utterly unremarkable that the sumptuous interior of the restaurant you visited that evening feels palatial by comparison.

satoru's not allowed to walk you to your door anymore. his harsh, obnoxiously unfiltered criticism of your building—of your home—each time he so much as caught a glimpse of the interior had grown so grating, you'd barred him from entering any further than the entrance to the lobby.

instead, his assistant nanami is the one who silently escorts you to your unit door each night, at satoru's unyielding insistence. he'd been surprisingly terse about it when you'd initially attempted to dissuade him, reminding him (more than once) that you make the walk to your own door every day alone and have thus far lived to tell the tale. but the options he firmly presented in reply—the only two you knew you had to choose from—were either to be escorted by nanami, or let him walk you there himself. you knew that there would be no reasoning with him otherwise, sensed it in the way he held you so fixedly in his stare that day, so you chose nanami.

now each night after satoru accompanies you on the ride home after your engagements, his stoic, well-mannered assistant dips in a polite bow at your door and wishes you goodnight before departing once he knows you've made it safely inside.

behind the wheel up front, nanami slips out from his seat, exiting the vehicle and coming around to your door to open it and let you out. the door cracks open as he pulls the handle, but all of the sudden it comes clacking closed again.

satoru is leaning over you—his weight, his warmth, the sheer breadth of him a little staggering from this close up, especially so unexpectedly—holding the door firmly shut by the handle. he stares at you down the bridge of his nose, unblinking.

"i'll see you... when i see you," you breathe out, surprisingly meek, as you sit frozen in your seat beneath him.

satoru says nothing, just watches you curiously. there's a glimmer of something that swims behind his eyes—that look he gets where you can't help but be reminded of a child playing with a new toy—that makes you shift nervously.

"you really don't want to know?" he asks you, and he's so close you can almost taste the words on his lips.

this is too near, even by his peculiar standards. satoru's hand is still wrapped tightly around the door handle to keep it closed. his body pinning you into the corner of the backseat.

you can't help but feel on edge when you're trapped like this with nowhere else to go.

"know what?" you ask him. your head is still spinning from the wine, but it's almost worse now. maybe it's only just really beginning to hit your bloodstream.

"where i'm going," satoru goads, "how long i'll be gone."

you swallow thickly. "that's none of my business."

"of course it is," satoru replies, feigning hurt. "we're engaged. it's a fiancés right to know where their partner is and what they're doing, any time they'd like."

your brow pinches in confusion. you have no interest in knowing those kinds of things, much less feel any right to know them, given the circumstances. your bewilderment leaves you at a loss for words.

"my rut's coming, you see," satoru explains, his lashes fluttering softly as he says it. it wouldn't feel so strange if his lip weren't curling up in a smirk all the while. "so for the next week or so i'll be... indisposed."

your mouth feels dry.

"oh," you manage to say, though it's not really anything at all.

one of satoru's brows quirks curiously at the sound.

"it wouldn't normally be an issue," he continues, though you didn't ask him to. "but this will be my first rut i've spent alone since i presented, so i'm not sure how long it will last."

your lips part in shock.

"alone?" you sound every bit as astonished—as scandalized—as you feel. an alpha of satoru's rank spending his rut alone is unheard of. "what about the omega servic—"

"i would never pay for those kinds of services."

satoru's tone is uncharacteristically cold as he dismisses the mere notion of it. even as a beta, you know that omega services are perfectly legal, and are strictly regulated nowadays—but upon further reflection, you're not all that surprised by his seeming revulsion towards the idea. a family as powerful as the gojo clan likely has their own reserve of omegas, each one of the highest pedigree, to attend to the needs of their unmated alphas. hell, the most eligible omegas in the country would willingly accompany him if he were to ask. you avert your gaze under his cold stare, you feel a bit silly for even suggesting—

"i have no interest bringing any omega into my bed."

your eyes snap up to meet his.

that little glimmer is still there, behind the impossibly clear blue of his eyes.

"will you take suppressants?" you find yourself asking next. still meek.

satoru's face screws up in disgust.

"that garbage is toxic," he sniffs indignantly. "snake oil like that wouldn't work on me anyway."

you remember learning about this in health class as a teen. remember how shocked you were to learn that the efficacy of suppressants decreases depending on how strongly someone's secondary gender characteristics present. it's always felt a bit backwards to you—shouldn't the strongest, least-controllable members of the population be the ones there's the most interest in subduing?

and an alpha as high ranking, as dominant, as satoru is every bit the example.

"no," he sighs, and suddenly any trace of irritation or sterness dissipates as though he's released it along with his breath. his weary tone is too thickly affected to be sincere. "i'll just have to suffer through it on my own."

from the corner of your eye, you can see nanami shift where he stands and waits outside the door, and all at once you remember where you are.

you turn your body away from satoru, angling yourself (as much as you're able) towards your exit.

"well, good luck," you attempt to sound encouraging, but the words still come out slightly ill-at-ease. you reach for the door handle, hoping satoru will get the message and release it so you can take your leave. "let me know if you need anything."

satoru's hand doesn't move.

"do you really mean that?"

you flinch a little as his lips brush the shell of your ear. he's pressed up against your back now—the planes of his chest firm against your shoulder blades as he drapes himself over you.

you're frozen again, your hand still outstretched towards his at the handle—poised in midair. the lights from outside the car glint tauntingly in the diamond on your ring finger.

his breath is hot as it breaks against your throat.

your chest feels uncomfortably tight.

"would you really help me if i were to ask?"

Sukugo baby: Kojiro

“…and Broken Dreams”

Here’s the Satoru piece to go along with my earlier post🫶✨

Stray cats 🐈

New Crow Time 🐦‍⬛🦊🌟

fresh out the slammer [sukuna x reader] cw: singular mention of sa w/c: 1.1k a/n: all characters mentioned are 22, shoko is your best friend.

"you're not meant to be here."

the man who stands at your doorstep scoffs. your 6 foot 3, pink-haired ex takes up the entirety of the doorway, and you have to force down the urge to jump him.

you tilt your head when he doesn't answer. "ryomen, you need to leave. right now."

a single eyebrows arches. "i know damn well you ain't talkin’ to me like that."

rolling your eyes, you know he won’t do anything you say. so, opening your front door wider, sukuna steps inside, his left hand scratching the back of his neck.

“see, being nice isn’t that hard,” he teases, glancing at you over his shoulder. sighing, you close the door, eyeing him wearily as he lingers in the hallway.

“new key hook?” sukuna smiles, pointing at the wall.

you shake your head in disbelief. “why’re you here?”

sukuna raises his eyebrows, spinning to face you. but you realise your mistake too late.

with the door at your back and nowhere to go, you’re cornered by your ex-boyfriend. yet, he seems to know exactly what he’s doing, with his tongue poking his cheek as he approaches.

“where were you on sunday?”

your breath hitches in your throat when he runs a finger along your collarbone, but you won’t let him get you that easy.

“nowhere,” you insist, staring him down. he always said you were brave for doing that — you were the only one to ever do so.

“funny,” the corner of his mouth turns upward. “i heard something different.”

you give him no reaction. besides, what’s it to him?

“ok, and?”

“ooo,” he laughs deeply, his head tilting. “so it’s true.”

“ryomen—“

“come on baby, you know that’s not my name to you.”

“ryomen,” you press, putting your hand on his chest to keep him at a distance. “you need to leave.”

the faux pout he gives you makes you want to slap him, but you can’t bring yourself to do something so heinous to him.

“fine,” you concede. “yeah, i went on a hinge date, so what?”

“so what?” sukuna mutters bitterly. “it’s not ‘so what’ when he tries to force himself on you, baby.”

your face heats at the mention of it. “sukuna—“

“and you didn’t think to tell me?” he presses his hand on the door behind you, his body dangerously close to yours.

“i was scared,” you whisper, gaze on his chest to avoid his eyes. you notice his body visibly relax, his head hanging closer to yours to hear. “i knew you would do something about it, and i didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“you don’t need to worry about me,” sukuna asserts, his finger under your chin to lift your face towards his. “it’s already been taken care of, and i’m still here.”

your eyes widen slightly, head moving to look at his right hand on the door. spread on the brown wood is his hand, larger as always, the pale skin on his knuckles red and purple and bloody and you’re shocked you didn’t see it before.

reaching up, you grab sukuna’s hand to cradle it in your own. “you’re joking.”

“you’re not a joke to me, sweetheart.”

sighing, you side step him, holding his injured hand in your own. he follows mindlessly behind you, checking out his left hand that is just as bloody as the other.

entering the bathroom, you don’t need to tell him where to sit before you dig the first aid kit out of the cupboard beneath the sink. you hadn’t had to use it in a while.

“kuna,” you murmur, observing his hands. he doesn’t reply. instead, he watches you, like he always does.

faces level, you set everything onto the counter. standing between his thighs makes your body feel numb. and when one of his hands covers your hip, you focus on the other.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you clean his knuckles with alcohol, and doesn’t object when you smooth frozen band-aids over the particularly bad cuts.

“thanks, baby,” sukuna says, not checking to see if you cleaned them correctly—you always do.

“don’t mention it,” you dismiss flippantly, putting the red soaked cloth in the sink and the aid pack back in the cupboard.

the silence is comfortable but charged with something you don’t want to acknowledge. the muted chatter from the tv in the living room penetrates the bathroom wall, and you come back to your senses.

“does shoko know?”

“she told me.”

you sigh, if she couldn’t get her hands on your hinge date, she’d tell someone who could—and he did.

“he had a bruise where you punched him,” sukuna quips. “but i may have made it worse.”

you twist your lips sheepishly. “yeah, well, i wasn’t letting him get away that easy.”

“that’s my girl.”

the comment makes your stomach flutter pathetically.

“you wanna stay over?” you blurt, face warm.

sukuna knows better than to tease you right now, so he nods, and stands from the closed toilet seat.

you swiftly leave the bathroom, pacing down the hallway to curl up on the couch. sukuna walks in idly, taking in the space he’s spent so much time in. one thing catches his eye, and then he’s poking fun at you.

“nice picture.”

your eyes dart to where he’s looking on the bookshelf, and god forbid, it’s a photo of the two of you at tokyo tower. but, you’re not embarrassed.

“yeah, i look hot.”

sukuna chuckles, sitting next to you and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “you look hot all the time, shut up.”

drawing in a breath, you can’t contain yourself anymore. you circle your arm around his neck, fingers threading through his pink locks. sukuna turns his head toward you, lips inches apart.

“feet off the table.”

“don’t tell me what to do.”

you snicker, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“fresh out the slammer,” you joke. “and you come here.”

“of course,” sukuna looks confused. “where else would i go?”

you bite the inside of your cheek to stop your emotions from showing.

“i don’t know,” you glance down at when his fingers play with the drawstring of your sweatpants. “a new girl?”

“please,” sukuna scoffs. “like anyone else would put up with my shit.”

you give him a deadpan look.

sukuna rolls his eyes. “you’re my pretty baby, i’ll always come home to you or whatever,” he says lazily.

you run your thumb over his cheekbone. "kuna.”

he raises his eyebrows in question, but he knows what you’re asking.

“i need something from you," you mumble, tracing his lips with your eyes.

"oh yeah?" he smirks, voice low. "and what's that?"

you shrug, licking your lips. “nothing.”

sukuna rolls his eyes and lifts your hips up and over him, your knees bracketing his thighs. you squeal softly, forgetting just how strong he is.

sukuna shifts his hips underneath you. “you’re so—”

“kiss me.”

you don’t have to tell him twice.

Sukuna’s the type of baby daddy that even if you break you never really broke up 😭 and if you got pregnant again there no chance in hell it could be anyone else’s kid besides his

The love you and Sukuna have is world-changing. Even after you break up, you are both still stuck on the other and unable to move on.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Hurt + comfort, fluff, mentions of smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Reader and Sukuna break up, but they get back together at the end of the story. There is a happy end. They already have a daughter together, and another pregnancy is mentioned at the end. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

It's not that you aren't trying to get over Sukuna. You really do. After a week of crying your eyes out, you decide to go out. It's not even that hard to get chatted up by some guy at a bar. But when his hand lands on your knee, you practically bolt. It feels so wrong, so dirty somehow. As if your body is still Sukuna's territory and no one else is worthy of touching you.

You try again a week later and the week after, too. But none of the men you meet spark your interest. Maybe this shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, only a few weeks ago, you had Sukuna. You had the best. There simply is no one who can compare to him. No one will ever make you feel the way Sukuna did.

You regret the breakup. It was stupid. Just small things that accumulated over several weeks, combined with a bad day at work and Sukuna being grumpy when you got home. You could have handled it differently.

But now, your bed always feels cold, and your heart doesn't seem to be in your chest anymore. Instead, there is a stone in your chest, heavy and painful, while your heart is in another part of this city, in the hands of the man who will always be the one for you, even if you will never get back together with him again.

+++

Sukuna asks to see his child, but you feel unable to face him, so you cowardly text him back, telling him to just pick your daughter up from kindergarten and spend the afternoon with her. When Sukuna brings her home in the evening, you are relieved that he seems to have gotten the hint. He doesn't come inside but waits at the front door as your daughter runs up the stairs to your apartment.

But you aren't strong enough not to hurry to the large window that faces the street, gazing outside to see Sukuna's familiar tall, broad figure slowly stroll down the street toward his car. His pink hair looks just like the cherry blossoms that fall down onto the road like pretty, pink snowflakes.

You know you will never be able to look at cherry trees again without feeling sadness wash over you.

Maybe you will try going on another date with some new guy, but deep down, you know that it will be in vain. It will always feel wrong. It will always feel like something is missing. Because none of those men are Sukuna. No one can be like him. There is only one Sukuna. Everyone else will always just be second best.

Sukuna isn't even trying to get over you. Not anymore.

On the first night after your breakup, he was a mess and stormed off to some bar, desperate for a distraction. Anything that would keep him from getting overwhelmed by his feelings.

He had some drinks and flirted with a random girl. Even took her home, thinking that sex would help him feel better. But the moment she tried to unbutton his shirt, Sukuna grabbed her wrists and stopped her.

It felt wrong. He felt wrong. As if he was cheating on you. He told the girl to leave and watched with his arms crossed as she angrily slammed his door shut before Sukuna sank down on his couch and buried his face in his hands.

He knew right then and there that it was no use to go out and try to have hookups. It wouldn't work, and it sure as hell would only make him feel worse.

In the following weeks, Sukuna worked longer and spent more time at the gym, always trying to stay busy because as soon as he got home to his deadly silent apartment, he was drowning in thoughts about you. Drowning in all those happy memories the two of you had made over the years.

You were Sukuna's love, his heart, his everything. He hadn't known or understood love until he met you. So how is he supposed to ever get over you and move on? It's impossible. You are still his everything, and you will always be.

And so it's clear as day to Sukuna that he won't even try to move on. He knows he will always be yours, whether you are together or not. He was only able to give his heart away once. And even if you don't want it anymore, it still belongs to you.

+++

Sukuna spends two days every week with his daughter, happy to see his little girl but sad because he misses the time when all three of you did things together. And when she looks at him with your eyes and asks him, "Daddy, why don't you just come home again?" Sukuna feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Sukuna doesn't know what to tell her. He, too, can't understand why the two of you decided to break up. It was stupid. Nothing big caused it. Just small things that added up, and looking back they seem insignificant.

"I don't know, princess. Maybe Daddy should really go home and talk to Mommy."

He decides at that moment that he will get roses and come up to your door this evening.

+++

Sukuna's chest feels painfully tight when you open the door, and he sees your face again after all those weeks, hitting him with just how much he missed you.

He hands you the roses, a beautiful huge bouquet that cost a little fortune, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"Please take those flowers. They come without any obligation to take me back or even talk to me. But I want to give them to you because you are still the mother of my child. And... and you will always be my woman, just like I will always be your man, even if we aren't together."

He fears he sounds like a creep, that he overstepped a boundary, and that he made you uncomfortable. But he has had lots of time to think during the last few weeks, and he promised himself that he would be more open about his feelings if he ever gets a chance to talk to you again.

You stare at Sukuna for a moment that feels like hours to him. But then he sees the tears gathering in your eyes and sees the way your hand that's holding the flowers is trembling. You breathe a soft "Kuna..." and Sukuna knows. He knows that you are still his, just like he is still yours.

He pulls you into his arms a split second later, crushing the beautiful roses between your bodies as he hugs you tightly. And you melt so perfectly against him as if you are made for him. Your face is pressed against his broad chest, and you snuggle against him, every centimeter of you touching him. You cling to him so tightly that it's almost painful, but it's the first time since your breakup that Sukuna feels like he can breathe again.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry for everything."

You both speak the words at the same time, eyes locked, small relieved smiles playing around your mouths.

You tell Sukuna to stay for dinner, and he agrees. He takes over the kitchen again, his kitchen, and prepares a dinner that he knows his two girls always loved. He sits at your table again, jokes around with his little daughter, and basks in the way you look at him with your eyes full of happiness.

Sukuna doesn't just stay for dinner but stays the whole night.

He kisses you after the two of you bring your daughter to bed. Pushes you gently against the wall and claims your lips again, though deep down, he knows that those lips always belonged to him, even when you were apart.

He grins when you laugh when he picks you up and carries you princess-style to the bedroom. Your lips are on his again, kissing him as if you can't get enough of him, making it hard to walk, but Sukuna would find his way to your bedroom even blind.

He locks the door behind you, turning around only to find your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt while your lips find his again in another passionate but tender kiss that makes Sukuna moan softly into your mouth.

He makes slow love to you in the bed you bought together all those years ago, showing you what it feels like to be loved and desired and cherished endlessly. And you wrap your arms and legs around him and meet each of his slow thrusts while you moan his name softly, and tears run down your cheeks, showing Sukuna the same love he is showing you.

Sukuna doesn't leave again after that night.

The two of you talk things out, and only a week later, Sukuna finally puts a ring on your finger and tells your little daughter that she needs to pick a pretty dress because she will be a flower girl at the wedding.

And only a month later, you place a positive pregnancy test on Sukuna's pillow, making both of you burst out laughing when you realize that you and Sukuna must have made another baby that first night when he came back and brought you the roses.

Thank you so much for the ask! It made me feel so many things, so I had to get these feelings out and write this little story 😭 I hope you enjoyed it and that it made you emotional, too. How could there ever be anyone else after Sukuna? It's really not possible 😭

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

Luck shall bring me it 🍀🍀🍀

AU where sukuna is a surgeon…but its modern fantasy!

The build up to this whole thing is quite lengthy, but please hold on!! no warnings; fluff and romance :> gn!reader

Can you imagine it?? That murderous man as a doctor, out of all occupations?? Because 😁 i can.

Famous as the four armed heart surgeon, this man, despite his big and rather burly appearance, has absolute precision with his scalpel and needles! And of course with the doubled limbs, his surgeries end much quicker, too.

Magic in this world has various side effects, so most people- well, beings, much prefer getting fixed physically rather than utilising other healing methods. (And so of course, theres a limit to Sukuna’s precision when it comes to smaller bodies - he only operates on those he deems suitable.)

Dr. Sukuna has remarkable influence on the hospital he works at, and therefore he’s gained the authority to pick and choose his patients. He’s appeared in many renowned medical journals, articles, and even a couple of interviews.

Likes to show up to work with a formal, but snazzy outfit - he is proud of his fashion sense and often buys many clothes from the best brands. Of course, he is rich enough to pay for the specific tailoring he needs for his second pair of arms.

Dr. Sukuna lives a good, comfortable life. For the most part.

He often sees the families of his patients gathering round to listen to the happy or unfortunate news he delivers. They smile together, and/or weep together.

Sukuna is a lonely man. He has no family, no lover, no close friends. Only acquaintances. He’d focused on getting to the top for so long, he’d neglected his personal connections with others. Though, that isn’t to say he’s sad about it all the time.

He enjoys his own company, being by himself, reading, cooking, exercising, and archery. Being alone is comfortable, since you don’t have to worry about anyone else but yourself. But in the back of his mind, he’s always open to having a cute partner to come home to, after work. But the more he looks, the more it seems like there is no one who he can fancy wholeheartedly.

Weiterlesen

sukuna isn’t one for much verbal affection. the thought of it brings heat to his cheeks, burning with embarrassment. he isn’t embarrassed about loving you, but he just can’t bring himself to say those accursed words, even when he tries practicing in the mirror sometimes.

you, on the other hand, have no problem with it. verbal and physical, there is no hesitation when you express your romance towards him. and he wonders how you do it; he really does.

he might not say it out loud, but oftentimes, he finds himself thinking it instead.

on the couch, you lie down and rest your head against his thigh, looking up at him with your glossy eyes and warm smile. bringing sukuna’s large hand to your lips, you give it a kiss before placing it upon your collarbone, so it’s easier for you to nuzzle into.

i love you.

on days when he’s exhausted, you bring a chair to the bathroom to shampoo his hair and give him a simple scalp massage. and before you begin, you always offer him an upside down kiss. sukuna opens his eyes, and sees the same smile you have whenever you’re with him. he loves being in the centre of your affectionate gaze.

i love you.

so eager to cater to his needs and wants– it never occurred to him how much he actually likes being spoiled. he’s gotten so needy ever since he started dating you, but he can’t stop himself even when he is completely self aware. bothering you when you’re busy in the kitchen, getting as close to you as he can in bed and in the living room. arms wrapped around your waist, face buried into your neck.

i love you.

feverish kissing, hands locked against the mattress - sukuna enjoys being on top of you. the sound of the rain tapping against the window accompanies the creaking of his and your bed. you whimper as he suckles on a sensitive patch of your skin, and you hold his hand tighter.

“i love you,” he mumbles, observing your teary, tender eyes. the words have already left his lips by the time he realises in soft awe, that he’d said them aloud.

after a brief silence, you merely give him a coy smile before saying:

“i knew that. i love you too.”

he hadn’t noticed– that he’d been expressing his love for you flawlessly, all this time. but still, it’s nice to hear it out loud for once.

Masterlist

Yellow Light

Bayverse!Raph x reader

Inspired by the song Inventor's Daughter by the Branches. No TWs apply.

“I triple dog dare you, bro.”

The dare would've been enough, but Mikey’s shit-eating grin and goading tone pushed Raph over the edge. “You're on.” He growls out.

“This is a bad idea.” Leonardo's low voice warns his hot-headed brother.

Raphael knows he can leap the alleyway easily. He's pretty sure he can perform a triple flip in the process. Sure enough that he's going to give it a go, to prove Leo's doubt in him wrong anyway. Per Mikey's dare, he's only allotted one step to perform the triple flip jump. He places his sais in his hands so they can't fall from their position at his hip, backs up the singular step he's allowed, and goes for it. His body curls in on itself, hard, carrying him through the momentum of the first two flips. For a moment, he isn't sure he'll make the third, and his arms move to aid him in his final rotation as a mild panic sets in.

Maybe Leo was right.

When his sai falls from his grip, clattering loudly to the ground of the alleyway below, Raphael’s gut sinks. Of course. Just after he sticks the landing and proves Leo wrong. He should have known it would fall into the light of the only streetlamp nearby, too. Quickly, he drops into the shadows below and sneaks forward, hoping beyond hope that he could retrieve his weapon and return to the relative safety of the shadowed rooftop with only a mid-length lecture from Leonardo rather than an hours-long scolding.

Of course, he would have no such luck.

The sound of metal clattering against the hard concrete of the alleyway as you and your date for the evening walked past. Pausing, curiosity and concern mixed in your gut as your eyes sought the source of the sound. There, on the ground in the pool of yellow light, was a strange weapon. Stepping forward to the edge of the streetlamp’s light, your hand reaches for the item. A small sound draws your attention as your fingers grap the hilt of the weapon, and your eyes drift upwards towards the source of the sound. What you see there takes a moment to process.

Standing there stock still under your gaze, Raphael mentally chides himself for such a rookie mistake. He expects a scream, expects to see fear or hatred or revulsion when your eyes fall upon him.

The fact that it never comes, that your wide eyes are filled only with curiosity has him stunned. This is uncharted territory.

It's that same surprise that lets your date land one, solid hit to his jaw and send him reeling. Distantly, he hears the insult your date throws at him.

“Get away from her, you monster!” Your date spits at him.

Ah. There it is, Raphael thinks to himself. The familiar sting of rejection.

Your date scoops you up and ushers you away from the alley. Curious eyes stay on Raphael's form until you are out of view, leaving him to process what just happened.

None of that had gone as he had anticipated. Raphael couldn't get the way you'd looked at him out of his head. His hand rises to rub at the sore spot on his jaw as he moves to sit up on the hard concrete. A mixture of shame and awe roiled in his gut - shame that your date had managed to get the upper hand, awe that someone as soft and beautiful as you had looked at him with anything other than revulsion. Disappointment fills his chest as he realizes he'll likely never see you again.

The sound of one of his brother’s quiet footsteps approaching drives the dagger of shame further into his gut. Bracing himself for the impending lecture that is sure to come, he brings back the walls he'd worked so hard to build over the years that you had seemed to crack with one simple glance. Yet again, he had failed to measure up and had let his brothers down. Self-pity and regret swirled around the shame in his gut, making him nauseous. Leonardo's condescending voice as he would surely deliver a thorough scolding was the last thing he needed - or, worse, Mikey looking at him as if he were a disappointment.

Instead of the condescension he was expecting, your quiet voice sounded from the mouth of the alleyway.

“Are you alright?” The softness in your voice as you speak startles him, and he looks up at you with wide eyes.

Yellow light from the streetlamp above frames your silhouette and his eyes grow wider with every step you take towards him. Your voice is quiet and soft when you speak, as if you were scared of frightening him off like some kind of injured animal. Maybe he is some kind of injured animal to you, he thinks with a twinge of bitterness. Then you're there in his space, kneeling in front of him as the streetlamp's yellow light shines like a halo behind your beautiful face. Your eyes are kind, concerned. Raphael struggles to process that the concern in your eyes could even remotely be for him. Tentative hands reach out and wipe the blood from his lip, stroking carefully along the quickly forming bruise on his jaw. Unconsciously, unintentionally, Raphael finds himself leaning ever so slightly into your soft touch. If you had cracked his walls earlier, surely now you were crumbling them to dust.

Finally he responds in a deep, gravely Brooklyn accent. “I’ve had worse.” He says to you, sounding a little like he can't believe any of this is happening.

“I'm sorry.” Your apology sends him reeling all over again. You were apologizing to him for your date defending you against a monster in the dark? Surely, he must have taken a harder hit to the head than he'd thought. Maybe he'd cracked his skull on the pavement when he'd went down and this was all a very pleasant, very not real dream.

Your hands retreat from his face, and Raphael struggles not to follow - not to seek out more of your gentle touch. No one had ever touched him that way before, and he thinks for a moment that he may die before anyone else ever touches him like that again. Your eyes drop from his gaze to your hand. Raphael notices now that you have something wrapped there in your pretty scarf, held close to your chest as if it were something precious. Slowly untangling your scarf from where you'd hastily wrapped it up, you reveal his now forgotten sai. He looks up at your face, sure that you would take this moment to drive it into his heart. Too stunned still by your actions, his body was too slow to catch up with this feeling of impending doom. Your eyes raise to meet his, and you extend the sai towards him.

The strike he's expecting never comes, instead feeling a much different kind of pierce to his heart as he realizes that you are handing it back to him. Somewhere in his gut, he knows it - knows that this should not be happening. You should not be here. You should be afraid. Everyone was always afraid. The cries of ‘monster’ ring fresh in his ears as if it were only moments ago he'd heard them. You should be running as far and as fast as you could, not kneeling in front of him as if you were the one liable to spook him away.

You certainly should not be handing him a weapon.

And yet. You had managed to subvert his every expectation so far. Carefully, he reaches to take his sai from your hand. A jolt of something electric runs through the both of you as his fingers brush against your own for the briefest of seconds as he takes back his weapon.

Your eyes never leave his face. After a long moment, you realize you've been staring at him for a little too long. Clearing your throat as a blush creeps across your face, you glance at the cut on his face. It's bleeding again.

“Does it hurt?” You ask him, voice soft with compassion.

It takes a moment for Raphael to process what you mean, having forgotten the ache in his jaw after staring into your beautiful eyes for so long.

“It's fine.” He grunts out, scrambling to hoist his walls back up lest he fall hopelessly in love with a woman he'd only just met.

Raising your hands to his face again, you cup the uninjured side of his jaw and dab gently at the wound in his face with your scarf. Raphael moves to bat you away.

“You're going to get your pretty scarf ruined.” He complains half-heartedly. His body is quick to betray him, though, as he leans subconsciously into the gentle caress of your hand on his jaw.

A small smile graces your lips. “Don't worry about it.” Your voice is a whisper now, and your face is close enough that he can feel your breath on his skin. His eyes widen once more, pupils blowing wide at the casual, gentle intimacy of it all. “Hold this here.” You instruct him, and his hand goes to hold your scarf to his face obediently. Surprisingly, your other hand stays on his jaw. He chides himself for being so easy for you. It was so unlike him. Raphael, who never trusted anyone, falling head over heels for a woman he's barely spoken to - for a woman who was on a date with someone else who had punched him in the face - because she was nicer than average? If he wasn't feeling so disoriented by your kindness, he would have scoffed at the ludicrousness of it.

Raphael's face looks up when he hears the quiet sound of Leo shifting on the fire escape above them, an intentional signal for Raphael to cut this little moment with you short. He shifts away from your hand, and it feels as if he were throwing himself into traffic. All he wants is to lean back into your touch, but he moves to stand nonetheless.

“Uhh. Thanks.” He tells you awkwardly in a new, gruffer tone than he'd used before. Had Leo seen his weakness? Seen how soft you'd made him in such a short time? He couldn't run the risk, had to shut you out before he fell head over heels and let his big brother down again. Raphael was supposed to be the protector, the one who was always suspicious of outsiders and kept everyone at arm's length to keep his family safe. “I gotta get going.” Reaching his hand out, he ungraciously offers your scarf back to you. “Here, you should have this back.”

That soft small returns to your face as you shake your head and curl your fingers over his, closing his hand around the scarf. “It's yours now.” Your blush deepens as you look at him. You know the moment has passed, he's already closed ranks and shut you out again, and you can't help but feel disappointed. There was almost something there between you, you were sure of it. Hiding your disappointment behind your smile, you meet his gaze. “Something to remember me by.”

Just like that, you were backing out of the alleyway. Your eyes stay trained on his massive form as you make your retreat until you can no longer make him out in the darkness. The rest of your walk home is lonely, if not uneventful.

Little do you know, four brothers keep watch over you from the rooftops, making sure you get home safe. Once you enter your apartment and lock the door behind you, Leonardo delivers the order to cut patrol short tonight and head home. Along the way, Raphael manages to mostly tune out the fearless leader’s scolding lecture as he thinks instead about the way you had approached him without fear, compassion in your eyes. The fact that you had left your date in order to return and check on him hadn't been lost on him. Finally, when they return to the lair, he retreats from Leonardo’s condescending monologue and closes himself away in his room to finally be alone and process what had happened. Removing his gear, he collapses on his mattress and lets go of the weight of Leonardo's disappointment and Michelangelo’s teasing comments.

Curled up there in his bed, finally alone, he opens his tightly fisted hand to reveal the pretty scarf he'd hidden there. Raising it nervously to his face, he leans in and inhales your scent deeply as he revels in the memory of your hand on his skin. The way you had touched him with such ease - without reservation.

Maybe dropping that sai was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

I forgot who all was on my tag list so I'm dropping who I can recall. If you'd like to be added please let me know!

@yorshie @luckycharms1701 @turtlecleric @thelaundrybitch @avery73 @thejudiciousneurotic

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

He’s so cocky at first, smirking when you bottom down on his length. “Think you can handle it baby? Take your time if you need to kay? I know it might be too much f’ you.” He chuckles.

You raise a brow in amusement. “Oh i can handle it baby, can you?” Was what you’d first said. And that question hadn’t changed since.

His lips parted in breathy groans and heavy breathing as his hands find your waist. Lips red and swollen from biting them as his eyes looked up at you almost pleadingly. “F-fuck baby.. you’re— shit, going so f-fast. Wanna slow d-down hmm?”

You smile widely, back arching as you lean down to kiss his jaw softly. Giving a false hum in thought. “Mmm.. you can take it.” He lets out the most cry like moan, head falling back into his pillow as his hips jerk upwards. Body trembling lightly when his eyes met yours.

“Shit— please baby. You d-don’t know how fucking- haah.. how fucking tight she’s grippin’ me right now.” He was referring to the way your snug walls stroked up and down his length with every harsh bounce of your hips. “I’m gonna— o-oh fuck, gonna cum again.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the crack in his voice. Your head tilted to the side as you coo teasingly. “Yeah? Gonna be a good boy n cum f’ me baby?”

He chuckles shakily, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as his cock twitches inside you. “God i fucking love you— ahh, even when you’re milking my cock like you hate m-me.” His senses were heightened, ears picking up the every squelch on your sopping pussy and his cock feeling every ridge of your gummy walls.

He lost it when you began rolling your hips sensually. Your thighs sticking to his at the mere amount of slick that joined you two. Your wetness and his cum seeping between your folds and down his girth, turning your skilled movements sloppy as you rut your hips.

You brought a hand to his face, using your nail to brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead. “C’ mon.. let it all out.” You smiled sweetly, eyes holding a dark glint when his eyes turn teary. Small beads of water pooling at his lids before he’s crying out your name.

Overly sensitive cock aching as he spills yet another load into you. Pumping the thick white substance till you’re pumped full. The rest of the substance spurting back onto him at the lack of space.

You let out a moan, “Wow baby- there’s so much. Might.. might just be your biggest load yet.” You were getting tired, but you’d never let him know that. You swear you hear him whimper when you capture his lips with yours slowly beginning to rock your hips again.

“Shit— don’t think- d-don’t think i can give you any more baby. Feels like my cock’s gonna f-fall off.” He panted, trying to keep himself together when he felt you jerking him off with your smug walls again. A small tremble raking through his body each time your ass landed back down.

His hand left your waist to cover his reddening face. Unable to hide the cherry shade of his ears and neck as he whimpered yet again. Choking out a string of moans with tears staining his cheeks when you shush him gently, “‘S only one more baby, give me one more.”

You were the only one with the ability to truly break Satoru if you tried.

sukuna ribbing little brother yuuji constantly about you, refusing to believe that the two of you are just friends (even though you've known each other since you were in junior high.) one night the two of them are drinking beer in the living room and sukuna starts teasing him that even though you're no jennifer lawrence, surely you're still kinda fuckable, right? and yuuji just goes bright red in the face, flushed all the way up to his ears. sukuna can't leave it at that, and keeps prodding, keeps goading, keeps insisting, until finally yuuji admits that when the two of you were still young and inexperienced you fooled around a little bit. nothing serious! he swears in a squeaking tone, the two of you having barely even gotten a toe past second base, but the grin that sukuna hides behind his can of beer is positively vicious, because all he can think about is how he's going to bring this up the next time he sees you.

You're Safe with Me

Aged Up Bayverse TMNT

Adult Turtle of Choice x Adult G/N Reader (I kept his speech generic so you can imagine it as any of the brothers talking)

Warnings: Fluffity fluff, comfort, confessions, describing a nightmare

Happy Reading!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face. Daydreams had floated about in your head as you had gone about your bedtime routine. Thoughts of a deeply seeded crush. Wishes you hoped would one day manifest into something very real. Even as you slipped in between your sheets your imagination took the mundane, the ordinary, the expected, and decorated it all in blissful glowing light with him at your side. Painted it all in euphoric, glittering metaphoric tapestries of silk. Enchanted a notion of how life with him would be filled with affection and adventure. A heavenly existence. One where the two of you healed all those splinters and fissures you had each endured in the years before meeting. It made you smile. The idea of what could be as you wandered off toward dreamland.   

A rough rubbing sound followed by a soft thump made you stir some hours later. Turning your mind on to what was real. A suggestion of a groan slipped free from your lips. Your eyes fluttered. Blinking to bring your room, bathed in a gentle illumination from the fairy lights draped above your bed, into focus. You made out a figure climbing in through your window. It was him.

“Hey there stranger.” Still not fully awake, you weren’t entirely sure you had spoken with enough volume for him to hear you.

He paused for a breath of a moment. As if manifesting out of the dark night, he straightened to his full height. The width of his broad shoulders taking up almost all the narrow space between your bed and the wall. His eyes immediately dropped to the floor as if your carpet was suddenly of immense interest to him. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you might still be up. Sorry.”

Something was wrong. His voice was raspy. Tone gruff. Words rushed. He had spoken louder than was normal for his customary greeting. His shoulders were tensed. Pulled up tight as if prepared to meet an adversary in combat. The very skin covering his body seemed uncomfortable as he shifted back and forth in front of your window. Form swaying, as if prepared to begin pacing. His fingers bunched then relaxed. Perhaps in an attempt to release the tension in his muscles and shake it free from his body he shook his hands at the wrists. The action evidently unsuccessful from the twist of his expression and the reforming of fisted digits. Fingers clenched then released only to do it again.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Fine. Just looking for somewhere to be is all.” A motion from him to stay put halted your move to get out of bed. “No, it’s fine. Don’t get up. I just…” His hands came up to rest on top of his head. His feet continued to alternate, rocking his weight back and forth. Still, he refused to look your way. “I just can’t be home any more right now. Everyone is asleep. I needed to get away is all. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

Turning away from you and back to the window, you were afraid he might bolt.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you did. I’ve missed you.”

He stood there, still rocking slightly. Hand resting on the windowpane. His character seemed – heavy - somehow.

“Please don’t go.” The words came out half because you did miss him. It’d been at least a week since you’d seen him last. Half, because you were really worried about him. Not once before could you recall seeing him in such a state. “What’s wrong?” Your tone was pleading.

“Nothing’s wrong. All good. You just – you just said I could always come to you if – if I needed to or anything. So I came here – and – yeah…,” His voice was tight. A sniff betrayed the tears threatening to dampen his mask.

“And I meant that. You can always come to me. No matter what time it is. No matter what the issue is. I’m here for you. Let me be here for you.”

The loud thud of the window nearly slamming shut made you jump. He seemed to jerk at the sound himself. He had put too much umph into closing it. Swiping a hand as if dismissing the entire matter he spun back to you. Finally lifting his eyes to you, you could make out how blood shot they were. How oddly pale his face appeared to be.

He cleared his throat. “Um, you go back to sleep. I’ll just, um, hang out and watch some TV or something if that’s okay with you.” Eyes dropped away again. Hands braced on his hips with a heavy breath as he awaited your approval. But his swaying continued. It was like he couldn’t bear to stand still. Maybe he’d break if he did.  

“Sweetie,” The clarity of the realization crept in on you. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

He stuttered out a humorless laugh. Casting his eyes to the ceiling, a few stray tears made their escape. He stretched out his arms, palms splayed wide as if searching for the answer in midair. “Two, three days. Maybe four. I don’t – don’t honestly know. It’s been a minute.”

Understanding calmed our vibrating nerves. The odd behavior made more sense now. “Why haven’t you slept?” You were trying your best to sound welcoming. Not accusatory. Not dismissive. Not teasing.

“Just - ugh.” He brought his hands up to forcefully rub his eyes. He kept rubbing as staggered, deep breaths puffed out his wide nostrils. “Been having nightmares. Every time I try to sleep. Driving me freaking insane.”

“Why didn’t you call me, silly?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you with something as stupid as nightmares.”

“Anything that bothers you enough to not sleep is not stupid. What are you having nightmares about?”

A wet laugh broke past his chest. He allowed his hands to free fall from his face, a loud pat sounding off as they dropped against his thighs. “It’s just, the same one. Over and over.” Now his feet were moving. He began to pace. Butting his knuckles against each other, keeping his shoulders taut, chest squared up to some imaginary threat. “Over and over and it just won’t freaking stop. Why won’t it go away?” His knuckles broke apart to bump lightly against his temples. Perhaps trying to push the images only he could see out of his mind’s eye.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” The reply was instant. Sharp.

“How can I help you?”

“How can you?”

You couldn’t decipher if it was rhetorical, a genuine question or simply him parroting back to you. As tenderly as you could, you asked, “What do you want, sweetie?”

Suddenly, he rounded on you. “What do I want? What do I want?!”

The sudden increase in his volume made your eyes stretch wide and involuntarily caused a hand to reach out in hopes of hushing him. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s okay. No need to shout. Just tell me what you need. Okay?”

Crumbling under the weight of your interruption, he choked out a few wounded sounding chuckles. Moisture was pooled blatantly in his eyes. “I just want to sleep. That’s it. Why is it so hard?” Again, he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Well, you couldn’t exactly make him sleep. Certainly, he would’ve tried anything you could offer him already. But maybe you could make it easier for him to get there on his own. Sure to keep your voice soft but tone firm, you gave him a simple command. “Strip.”

“What?!” The off-balance movements that had been constant since his arrival paused, body halting from momentum heavily like stone. His eyes locked onto yours. And he tried to make his brain process your order. He really did. Going so far as to physically will himself to think, his mind merely came up blank. Nothing but a proverbial flatline aside from the words ‘think’ and ‘strip’ floating meaninglessly about.

“I said to strip. Down to your underwear. Everything else off. Gear, mask, all of it.”

A blank stare was your reply.

“Come on. I mean it. Strip.”

“Why would I -,”

“Do you trust me?” you interrupted.

“Wha -,”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?”

Did he trust you? The moment he stood, confused and weary, felt like it stretched on a long time. But with a submissive sigh, his shoulders finally dropped. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I trust you.”

That brought a small smile to your lips. It felt good to hear him say so out loud. “Then strip.”

With heavy eyes, he relented. Nodding in acceptance he began to do as you told him. Operating off of muscle memory alone, his fingers unclasped his harness. Only a half-hearted amount of effort went into preventing his gear from falling straight to the floor. Bracing his weight on the edge of your bed, he next went to work removing the wrappings from his limbs. Most of his task was done with closed eyes.  

You watching his movements closely; seeking any inclination to tip you off to what was eating at him. The poor thing was so desperately tired. What could possibly be haunting his dreams so badly as to deter him from collapsing in exhaustion?

The heaviness of his own limbs was taking its toll. After shoving his clothing down to his ankles he allowed his arms to dangle limply at his sides. He forced his reddened eyes open to look to you for approval.

“Your mask too.”

Hands reluctantly lifted to the knot at the back of his head. They stalled. Another look to you. Seeking further direction.

“You’ll sleep better without it. Trust me.”

The energy to resist simply didn’t exist. He pulled the knot loose, allowing the frayed material to slip between his fingers, and fall to your bedside table. He lifted his feet out of the heap of his garments and nudged them to the side. That left him standing in the dim, faint blush of fairy lights and moon glow, in nothing more than his scales and slightly too snug, slightly too short boxer briefs.  

One more time, he looked to you and awaited your next instruction.

You stretched your reach across the bed to grab the far corner of your comforter. With arm straight, you swung back the blanket to expose the empty spot next to you. “Come lay with me.”

He hesitated. Touching his body to yours was not foreign. The two of you embraced each time you saw one another now. Cuddled close during movie nights and even walked arm in arm as he escorted you home from time to time. Sometimes you even fell asleep on the couch together. But you had never shared a bed before. Despite your invitation, he couldn’t help the feeling it was beyond his place. That he didn’t belong.

But he wanted to go to you. He wanted to fill that bare spot in your bed. To belong. So badly wanted to feel you pressed against him, enveloped within your scent, cradled with you in the spot where you were most vulnerable. To have that comfort only you seemed to bring him. He wanted that.

You saw the conflict in his eyes. It tugged at your heart strings. “You’re safe with me. Come lie down. Let me help you sleep.”

He could resist you no longer. Sliding an arm under your pillow, he came in close. Laying his form flush against yours. The warmth of your body washed over him. Nearly drug him to sleep like a current dragging him down to drown right then and there. The thought of how easy it was to join you in bed crossed his delirious mind. He dropped his top arm over your torso, hoping against hope it wasn’t too heavy for you.

It took some wiggling to find a comfortable position. To find just the right way to lay beside one another. His form was massive compared to yours. Between his hard musculature and natural armor his body didn’t meld as your soft flesh did. So finding a manner in which to actually sleep comfortably with him against you took some work. After a minute or so you figured out that it was going to work best if you scooted up a bit higher than he on the bed.

You lifted your chin so he could tuck his head down and rest it against your chest. The steady strumming of your heart was a lulling comfort. Its rhythmic thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump reassured him. It told him he was in fact safe with you. The fact that you let him in so close. Especially in such a way where you were virtually defenseless. You weren’t on guard. Weren’t worried or nervous. So he didn’t need to be.   

“Now tell me about this nightmare. Tell me all of it. Don’t keep any of it inside.”

You understood his whimper as an unspoken request to not share. But you knew he’d never get the rest he so badly needed unless he got the weight of his fears off his chest. As lovingly as you were able, you stroked your fingers over the swell of his shoulder cap. Nuzzled the top of his head. Encouraged him on

There was no fight left in him.

“I fall asleep. It’s like I just close my eyes then open them to find I’m up in the middle of some rooftop. Or someplace up high. The sky is dark. I can’t see anything else around. Except for my brothers. They all have their backs to me. Swinging like madmen, it looks like they’re fighting something invisible. They’re scared. They’re in trouble. I rush forward to help one. As I get close, he stops fighting. He just turns, terror all over his face, and mouths, ‘Help me.’ I reach out for him. Something in the dark sky rips him away. He’s gone. But I can still hear him screaming.”

His fingers tighten against your flesh. Wet tears drip against your skin.

“I turn to help my other brother. Same as the before, he turns to me too. Scared to death. He doesn’t say anything though. He just reaches out for me. I reach back. But then whatever we’re standing on caves away. And he drops out of sight. I still hear him screaming even though I can’t see where he’s fallen to.”  

Now his chest was shaking with each sharp, ragged intake of air. Moisture ran freely from his eyes to puddle on your chest then run down to dampen the bed beneath you.  

“I don’t even see my last brother when I turn to look for him. I can hear him screaming though. Just like the other two. Calling out for my help. But I can’t help. I can’t do anything. I’m not enough. I’m just stuck. All alone in that spot. Listening to their cries. The dark sky seething above my head. Fear creeping into my bones. Worthless. Useless. Unable to save them. Unable to protect them. And I know they’re dying horrible, painful deaths. But I can’t do anything about it. Nothing except listen.”

His words dropped off. Squeezing his burning eyes shut tight he turned into you more, silently pleading you would accept that confession as enough.

A few tears pricked in your own eyes. A twinge pulled at your heart. In a way, you felt terrible. Not just for your heart breaking at the story he was sharing; the gravity of the fears it confessed. Terrible because just hours ago you had been reveling in fantasies of a picture-perfect life with him. Delighting in the fairy tale of how amazing it would be to be his. It felt almost cruel now, to image being so important to him without giving a moment’s pause to consider the strain a relationship with you would put on his already burdened conscience. How unfair that would be of you.

Even though it hurt, you knew there was more. You had to get him to tell you all of it. Your fingers continued to rub soothingly. You whispered. “Get it all out. Don’t keep any of it inside.”

He shook his head. Burying his face further into your skin. He didn’t want to say it. Please don’t make him say it.

“Hey.” You leaned in, close enough that your lips grazed over his skin. Your words soft like silk. “’You’re safe with me. I promise. No matter what.”

The words felt like they needed to come out now. Despite his will to keep them inside. He wasn’t in control of himself anymore. He had given in to releasing a trickle of the pain. Now the rest demanded to surge forth.

His voice quaked as he continued. “Then I hear you. You’re so scared. I go to rush to you, but - you don’t recognize me. You throw your hands up to keep me away. You scream out. Call me a monster. Shout for someone to help you as you back away. Stuff starts falling from the sky and I know you’ll get hit. I keep reaching out, trying to grab ahold of you, to pull you to safety. I plead; I beg for you to come to me. To let me save you. Tell you that you can hate me all you want after you’re safe. Just to please let me save you.

But you don’t. You just keep scrambling to get away from me. All this stuff pops up, like steel bars all tossed around. It gets harder for me to stick near you. My shell keeps getting caught. And I’m just screaming and crying, desperately trying to get you to stop running away. So I can protect you. Then you trip and fall down. Just like my brothers did, you go silent. Just looking to me with this horrified look.

Then this pink, snake-like thing slithers out from the dark, coiling around your leg. You look at it, then back at me. Your hand stretches out. But I’m stuck. I can’t get to you. And this thing rips you back into the dark, screaming all the way. And I know you’re gone. There’s nothing I can do. You’re just gone.”

His whole body was shaking now. It made sense why he had fought falling asleep for so long. What a horrible thing to dream. What horrible emotions to feel.

“Is that all of it?”

Isn’t that enough? he wanted to yell. But he only nodded as he struggled to regain his composure. Slow his breathing down to normal.

You leaned away from him a little. A split-second fear that you were getting out of bed overtook him. He looked up to meet your eye. In your gaze, however, he saw only understanding and affection. You pressed a firm, sure kiss to the middle of his forehead, lips warm and calming. Communicating your love for him.

You dropped your lips down to press a kiss over one of his eyes, then the other in turn, not deterred in the least by the wetness of his skin.

“First, we have to get all the negative out. Then we seal it with love. So the hurt can’t get back in.” A caring smile crossed your face. “Now you can go to sleep. I’ve got you. No matter what.”

A few more tears slipped free as he allowed his eyes to close. “Thank you,” he choked out in a hush.

“Of course. I wish you’d come to me sooner. So you didn’t have to try and fight through this all alone.”

“I want to keep all the bad of my life away from you. I don’t want it to take away your joy.”

“You are my joy, you dork. And there’s so very little I can offer you. The very least I can do is give you a place where you’re safe. So you can let go of all that bad.”

Enough time had passed in silence that you thought he might have fallen asleep. But a faint whisper told you he was still very much awake.

“Am I safe enough here to tell you how important you are to me?”

His statement made your heart flutter. “I know I’m important to you big guy.”

“No.” He raised his head up to look at you. Thankfully, his face seemed to have more color now. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

Damp eyes clung to one another a long breath. In a whisper of your own, you offered, “I think I do. Because I think the same thing about you.”

“Is it safe enough to tell you how badly I want more?”

You caught your breath. “More?”

“I want a life with you. I – I don’t know if it’ll work. But I want to try. Is it safe enough to tell you I’m terrified to ask you to try with me though?”

It was your turn to have tears rolling down your cheeks. You stroked your fingers over his cheek, taking in every tiny detail you could, memorizing each freckle and scale, as though you’d never see it again. All the while, his eyes never left yours. They mirrored every miniscule shift like his very existence hung on his ability to do so.

“Only if I get to tell you how much I want it too. And how guilty that makes me feel. Because I never want to be a burden to you. I never want to be one more thing for you to worry about.”

“That’s not your choice. I’ll always worry about you. Even if you tell me you hate me tomorrow. I’ll still worry. That’s what happens when you care about someone.”

Your heart quivered. “How can I ask that of you? You already have so much to carry. How can I ask you for more?”

In a swift move you didn’t expect, he pulled you down to be even beside him. His forehead bumped against yours. “Because you’re safe with me.” With a nudge of his nose he tilted you to face up at him. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in to hover his lips barely above yours. “Is it safe enough with you to do this?”

At your single nod, he pressed in to fully capture your lips in a kiss, his arm tightening around your shoulders. You kissed him back. Hoping he was too tired to catch the way you trembled. He broke the kiss with a soft pop. Sleep had finally come to claim him.

“Tell me you’re safe with me. Enough to try,” he mumbled, tucking his head back under your chin. Seeking out the steady thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump of your heartbeat.

“I’m safe with you.”

“And tell me I’m safe enough to ask that of you.”

You squeezed him close. There was so much you needed to talk about. So much more to say. So many details to set straight. But all that could wait. Right now he just needed sleep. And you wanted the chance to fantasize one more time about a carefree life with him. A life free of nightmares.

“Yes. You’re safe with me. Always.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The end! Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!

sonder — gojo satoru.

"you answered."

"you called."

your body curls into itself, hugging your thighs to your stomach as a soft static echoes on the other line. you can hear satoru breathing, it's labored, he sounds tired. satoru never gets so exhausted.

"name—"

"why did you call me?" you whisper into the phone, shifting under your blankets. off to your left on the bedside table is a half empty bottle of wine and leftover kikufuku from yesterday that you tried to eat, but couldn't, mind numb with worries for him. "i can't save you."

there's an uneasy pit in the bottom of your stomach, and if you close your eyes, maybe, just maybe, you can imagine satoru's spooning you from behind, lanky legs thrown over yours and hugging you close.

"will you stay on the phone with me at least?" he asks, and you can imagine the lopsided smile tugging on his lip, the way his blue eyes mimic crystalline ocean waves on a hot summer day. he's content, or at least halfway. a part of him hopes you'll hang up on him, spare yourself the trouble.

but you both know you won't. you've always stuck by him, haven't you?

"okay." you mumble, and despite sinking into the softness of your mattress, your heart rate picks up, and you can't help but fidget. "satoru—" does it hurt? are you lonely? please don't die alone.

he lays still, and a part of him thinks this is a little funny. here, his feelings laid bare for all to see, not just you. he's the strongest, isn't he? what's there for the strongest to ever regret?

"don't ask me." he breathes, and it's almost a plead. don't think of me in that way. don't worry about me. i'm still your satoru. "please, don't."

you sit up in bed, and bring a shaky hand to your forehead, then your cheek, inhaling sharply. your heart slows just a little. a soft realization passes over you, and you think, is this how it ends? so anti-climactic? a quiet goodbye over hushed static?

"what are you thinking?"

satoru asks, and you know he already knows what's crossed your mind. and in fear of leaving you faster than he desires, he holds back his laugh, his body can't take the weight of his heart in his throat like it used to.

"just thinking how nice it'll be..." you sigh, almost longingly, grasping at a dream. he commits the sound to memory. a palm presses against your chest, the constant thrumming of your heart steadying you, a heart that isn't even yours — hasn't been yours for a long while. "when you come home to me again."

this time he grins.

"yeah?" he whispers, and his eyes flutter closed. this, this is what he wanted. the dramatics of it all can wait. in a world full of chaos, in a veil filled with nothing but his own bustling thoughts — you made everything quiet for him. "you'll be waiting by the door f'me?"

"with kikufuku in my arms." you smile, squeezing your own eyes shut, and you think some things, the nothings, are so beautiful too. a world full of nothings with satoru, doing a whole bunch of nothings that will eventually lead up to nothing. everyday, like that with him, you wouldn't be opposed at all. "we'll watch that movie you wanted to."

"tsk– the one with the tragic hero?" the irony isn't lost on him. and if anything, he's sure if there's a god, he'd hate the two of you, because all you both ever seem to do is meet fate halfway with defiance, laughing at destiny. "you mockin' me right now?"

this time you laugh. and something wounded tight in his chest flutters away, he's weightless.

"i love you."

"you're insulting me, baby." he sighs, and you can hear the strength of his voice going down a few knotches, like a warrior sheathing his blade and setting his armor down for polishing.

you fought well, 'toru.

"we don't say it like that, never." and he's still so childish — demanding all from you, all that you can't give. already given. what he already has.

we don't say i love you like it's a goodbye.

"love you 'toru," it comes out softer, less strained, and is followed by a soft hum of approval from him. "love you more, cutie."

there's a soft beat of silence. he should hang up now, before he starts gagging on his own blood. but he'll bear it a little while longer.

"baby?"

"i'm still here, satoru."

"wanna do me a favor?" he asks, and you know that tone, it's mischievous, teasing. this man, is it possible to love him more than you already do? "tell me about it some more, please."

"more about what?"

his breaths go ragged for a quick moment, and he's imagining you here, laying beside him just as you are too. "what we'll do when i come home."

you think, if satoru goes with your heart still in his hands, you wouldn't mind.

"yeah? i can do that — where were we?"

"the movie. after the movie..."

i'd hold you so close, so close and keep you there. then do nothing. everyday, a whole bunch of nothings.

"would you stay and do nothing with me, satoru?"

"it's never nothing when it's with you."

notes ; this is my way of coping with 236. i've been crying for hours. give him back gege :((

3:04am — gojo satoru.

“Satoru…?”

“Go back to bed, baby.” He’s standing at the balcony, elbows propped against the rail. His muscled back is facing you, gray sweatpants hung low on his hips.

You push the sheets off your body, ignoring him. You glance over at the clock on the bedside table, 3:04am. Shivering a little, you get off the bed, bare feet on tiled floors.

“It’s late—” Satoru starts, and if possible, you can feel his six eyes on you. Maybe it’s just the cold. He’s beautiful, you think. Just standing there and gazing out at the fluorescent city lights, hair tousled and back hunched, half naked.

You walk towards him, dressed in his t-shirt, placing a hand on the edge of the open balcony door. “I’m already awake.” You reason, and he raises to stand at his full height, palms grasping the railing, a few veins in his forearm visible in the moonlight.

He doesn’t sleep— hasn’t slept since Shibuya, never a full night, not even with you. Like everything else in his life, he’s good at masking it, but you’ve known Satoru Gojo long enough to know when he’s just about to fall apart at the seams.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, still refusing to look at you, perhaps afraid of what you’ll see. A waft of cold air from the cityscape rushes in, a leaf blowing high above the railing.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The leaf bounces off in mid air, just before it touches him, getting stuck between one of the gaps in the metal railing.

Infinity.

“Oh, Satoru…” you mumble beneath your breath, he’s guarded, refusing to let anyone into that veil once he feels any remote sense of weakness.

You ease off the sliding door and take a few more steps further and outstretch an arm in contemplation. “Yes or no?” You ask, and before the words finish leaving your lips, your fingertips meet no barrier, palm already pressed to the middle of his spine.

“You don’t have to ask.” He whispers, leaning over the railing, elbows out. Your arms encircle his waist, chest meeting his back – he’s cold – and you flatten your palms against his abdomen, falling silent. “You never have to—”

“Except when it’s no.” You murmur, and you feel his muscles twitch under your fingers. Another gust of wind blows, the leaf escapes the metal and floats towards where your arms hold Satoru close. “If you have to—” Satoru starts, “—keep asking. I’ll answer it anytime you need.”

The leaf bounces off just inches away from you, and your eyes lock on it. Your mouth falls agape.

“But it's always going to be yes.” He says, and you hold him a little tighter, as he places a hand atop of yours.

notes ; obsessed w the idea of being inside satoru's infinity. god i can't breatheee i need him + also this is based on a snippet from a book called all for the game by nora sakavic (i was wayy too young to be reading that when i did 😭)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader summary: a collection of moment where gojo finds himself falling harder and harder for you. genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, idiots in love i think notes: technically a prequel to "the lesser of two (presumed) evils" but can be read as a standalone, spoilers for jjk manga + anime, the exchange event scene is complete bs idk wtf happens but bear with me pls wc: ~4.8k

Gojo Satoru is sixteen years old when he first meets you.

You're half hidden behind Haibara, walking next to Nanami and nodding sagely as you listen to him speak. There's a smug grin on Gojo's face as he approaches the three of you, thinking about how impressed his underclassmen will be when they learn about the special grade curse he just took care of.

He's lost in thought— thinking about the best vocabulary to use in order to finally, finally, gain Nanami's respect— when Haibara finally moves out of his line of sight. He watches as Haibara turns to face you and Nanami, walking backwards as he finally participates in your conversation.

There's a brief second during which Gojo thinks the world pauses, his mouth going dry and brain going blank when he gets a good look at you. Haibara's sudden movement has left you entirely exposed, and Gojo tries his hardest to ignore the way his heart stutters when he sees you're smile.

"Ah, Nanami! I'm back!"

He bites back a laugh when he sees Nanami stiffen, robotically looking over at him and giving him a pained look before sending a nod his way. He doesn't hesitate before throwing an arm around his shoulders, swaying back and forth as he hold his underclassman close.

"You'll never believe how ginormous the curse I was assigned to exorcise was!" Gojo exclaims, wincing as Nanami elbows him in an attempt to push him away. He tightens his hold.

"Get away from me," Nanami grumbles, an embarrassed expression on his face as he gives up and crosses his arms.

"I will, I promise. But first," Gojo pauses, tilting his head down to look your way with his bright, blue eyes. "Who's this? It's rude to not introduce people, y'know?"

Nanami rolls his eyes before muttering your name, sighing in relief when Gojo lets him go in order to approach you. He makes sure to give Haibara a nod before coming to a stop in front of you and repeating your last name.

"I've heard of your clan," Gojo says, one hand in his pocket as he extends the other towards you. "Your cursed technique is powerful when you truly have a handle on it, or so I've heard. I'm Gojo Satoru."

He can see the slight hesitance in your eye, the uncertainness of meeting someone new visible even as you look away from him to glance at Nanami and Haibara. He decides he likes your attitude when you square your shoulders and shake his hand firmly, all traces of nervousness gone as you hold your head up high and meet his gaze.

"It's a pleasure," you say in response. "I've heard great things about your clan."

You speak your words so casually that Gojo is half tempted to ask if you truly know who he is; if you know just how powerful he and his clan are. But he hesitates when he sees the small smile on your face, and he realizes that you do know. You know exactly how important his name is and here you are, doing your best to have a normal conversation with him.

He thinks you're kind, and he's unsure if there is room for kindness in the world of jujutsu sorcery.

"So, how does your cursed technique work?"

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and he takes note of the way your fingers brush against his as you let go of his hand. A flash of surprise crosses your face before you realize that Gojo is genuinely asking, and your eyes light up as you start to explain, hand waving around for emphasis as you talk about the finer details of your technique.

Gojo only catches half the words you say, too distracted by the way your lips move to form words and the way your nose scrunches when you try to think about a good metaphor for what you can do to fully pay attention.

In fact, he's so distracted that he doesn't seem to notice that you don't stop talking, not even to catch your breath. You're so rattled by Gojo's sheer presence— his pretty eyes, his bright smile, and his ruffled hair— that you keep on rambling, using your hands as you speak in an attempt to prevent the others from noticing how they shake with nerves.

It isn't until you shoot a panicked look at Nanami that he intervenes, grabbing you by the collar of your uniform and dragging you away from Gojo as he scowls.

"I hate to cut this enlightening conversation short," he begins, disdain clear on his face as he gives you a look. "But we have a mission to get to. You two can keep talking later."

There's barely a goodbye said before you're on your way again, leaving Gojo standing in the middle of the path as you resume your conversation with Nanami and Haibara.

It isn't until the three of you have left the school grounds that Nanami side-eyes you, huffing out the faintest of laughs when you refuse to meet his gaze.

"Gojo? Really?" he asks, rolling his eyes as you shake your head at his words.

"I don't know what you mean," you proclaim, still avoiding his eyes as you keep walking.

"Sure you don't," Nanami says, feeling slightly nauseous due to how much he's thinking about Gojo. "And you two definitely weren't giving each other heart eyes back there."

"We were not!" you yell, slapping his shoulder a few times to cover up your embarrassment.

"Ow! Okay, you weren't!" Nanami concedes, grabbing your hand and pushing you away softly in order to get you to stop. "The two of you were having a really normal, really casual conversation. That's all."

He almost smiles when he sees the scathing look on your face, instead choosing to keep looking straight ahead as you reach the train station.

The silence only lasts a few seconds before Haibara speaks up.

"I don't know, I think the two of you would look good together!"

A defeated sigh escapes Nanami's lips as Gojo slides into the seat across from him, a huge grin on his face as he swipes Nanami's croissant off of his plate.

"Gojo," Nanami greets dryly, lips pursed as he watches his upperclassman. There's a moment of silence as Gojo bites into the pastry, eyes lighting up in delight as he sets it back down before lacing his fingers together.

"A dark chocolate croissant?" he asks, studying the younger boy from behind his sunglasses. "I didn't take you for the type to like sweets."

"I don't," Nanami sighs, a smug look on his face as Gojo takes another bite. "That's not for me."

Gojo freezes when he sees you walk in, watching as your eyes crinkling when you smile at Nanami. He observes you quietly, mouth slightly agape, as you ruffle Nanami's hair. The blond shoots you an annoyed look, scooting deeper into the booth when you slide in next to him.

"Gojo, hi!" you greet, your smile falling when you see the half-eaten pastry in his hand. "Was that my croissant?"

"No!"

"Yes."

Gojo sends Nanami a glare, lips twisting into a frown when he sees the smug look on Nanami's face intensify. His frown drops however, as he takes the opportunity to send you a charming grin, leaning in close in an attempt to grab you attention.

"Let me buy you a new one," he states, grin widening when you give him a shocked look. He waits a few seconds for your response, shoulders stiffening when you shake you head.

"No, that's okay!" you reply with a grin of your own. Gojo chooses to ignore the way Nanami's lips twitch in amusement. "Nanami bought me that one because he lost a bet but I don't really mind. I'm more in the mood for a slice of chocolate cake today anyways. I'll be right back!"

Gojo watches you stride up to the counter, smiling at the cashier before purchasing your cake. There's familiarity in the way you banter with the employee, and you don't look around or hesitate before locating the napkins and utensils.

"How often do the two of you come here?" Gojo asks, his eyes never leaving your form as you wait for your order.

"Every week," Nanami says, pausing for a second before continuing. "Or after every mission."

Gojo hums in response, silence falling over the two of them once more.

"You know," Nanami begins, a rare hint of teasing in his tone. "You can look away. She won't disappear if you take your eyes off of her."

Gojo sticks his tongue out at his underclassman, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat as he finally looks at him. Nanami meets his gaze evenly, looking almost bored as Gojo gets lost in thought.

"Let me know," Gojo eventually says, gaze now trained back on you.

"Let you know what?" Nanami asks uncertainly, nervousness settling in his stomach as he waits for a response.

"Whenever you plan on coming here. I'll join the two of you," Gojo says confidently, missing the way Nanami's face falls in disdain.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head firmly as Gojo shoots him an offended look.

"C'mon Nanami! Please?" Gojo asks, his lips in a pout in an attempt to wear him down. His pout only gets bigger when Nanami refuses, and he even lets out a slight whimper that only serves to make Nanami's eye twitch.

"I already said no," he states, almost unkindly. "I see enough of you at school, I will not have you are not crashing our class's hangouts just because you can't grow some balls and ask her out on a date."

"I don't want to ask her out on a date!" Gojo denies. The pink tint on his cheeks lets Nanami know he's lying. "I just like the croissants from here, that's all."

"Then you can come with Geto or Shoko. It's still a no."

"Fine," Gojo huffs, looking away as you rejoin the table. You pause briefly, glancing at the two boys in front of you before sliding into your seat once more.

"Where's Haibara?" you ask, digging into your cake as you look at Nanami.

"I don't know," Nanami admits, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he glances towards the door. "Maybe I should go look for him in case he got lost again."

Gojo stands up before either of you can move, giving you a lazy grin as he shoves his hands into his pockets. "Let me. I have to get going anyways so I'll be sure to send him your way."

"Thanks, Gojo!" you say, giving him a smile. His cheeks grow slightly darker before he hurries out of sight, and Nanami can't help but watch as Gojo sends you one last look before exiting.

Nanami is surprised to see that Gojo keeps his word, and although he sees him eating sweets from the bakery occasionally, he never shows up while the three of you are there.

What does show up every time they go to the bakery is a few bills in Nanami's pocket, a little note always secured to it.

"for the dark chocolate croissants but shhh don't tell her."

The exchange event is one that almost everyone looks forward to, except the students from Kyoto who know what Gojo is capable of.

So when they hear that he'll be absent from the event this year, off on some mission of high importance, they can't help but breath out sighs of relief.

You're in your second year now, a bit more mature and grown up than you had been the previous year. The past year has changed you, hardened your view of the jujutsu world, and pushed you to become a better sorcerer. You now hold the rank of semi-grade 1 and if you're being completely honest, you don't feel all that intimidated by the competition.

You manage to catch a glimpse of Utahime, who seems to be in high spirits after learning that Gojo would be absent this year. There's a couple of other students you vaguely recognize, but you end up sticking to Nanami's side as you wait for the event to start.

It's an abnormally small competition this year, and the only ones present from Tokyo Jujutsu High are you, Nanami, and Shoko. The Kyoto school had only sent four students, and you and Nanami exchange glances as you study them from afar. You think they seem kind of weak.

Your assumptions turn out to be right, and the three of you have no trouble beating them in the team battle the first day. The second day is full of excitement and concern, with the one-on-one battles being put on hold as they try to figure out how they're going to pair the students up.

The issue is resolved when Gojo Satoru walks in, a huge smile on his face as he greets the Kyoto principal with a witty one liner. He ignores the way the older man complains, turning to Yaga and giving him a brief report on his mission.

You watch his from afar as he speaks, studying him quietly from your seat next to Nanami. You don't see Gojo that often anymore, the previous year having taken a toll on all of you after the incidents with Haibara, Geto, and Amanai Riko. Between your intensive training and Gojo's constant missions, you hadn't really had the chance to sit and speak with your upperclassman like you had a couple of times before.

"You're not subtle with your staring at all," Nanami mumbles, grabbing your attention with an elbow to your side.

"I wasn't staring," you argue petulantly. "I just haven't seen him in a while, that's all."

"Sure," is all Nanami says, watching the way your eyes drift back to Gojo. "Just admit you like him."

"Who likes who?" Shoko asks, leaning forward from her place on Nanami's other side.

"She likes Gojo," Nanami says quickly, earning a slap to the head from you. Shoko's nose scrunches in distaste before she composes herself, giving you a friendly smile.

"You could do better but you could also do much worse," she whispers to you, earning a snort from Nanami. "This is good. He'll be happy to know."

"No! He's not going to know," you hiss in response, shaking your head furiously. Shoko opens her mouth to speak, only to stop herself when Gojo himself plops down into the seat next to you.

"Ooo are we sharing secrets over here?" he asks, leaning forwards conspiratorially. Your wide eyed stare goes ignored as Yaga calls for everyone's attention, announcing that thanks to Gojo's last minute arrival, the exchange event could proceed smoothly.

The conversation comes to a stop as the pairing are announced, and the poor student who gets paired with Gojo goes pale at the news. Shoko's match is first, and she ends up losing to a third year from Kyoto who took advantage of her hand-to-hand combat skills to pin her down. Gojo's match is over before it even starts, with his opponent surrendering out of fear before the battle even starts. Nanami's match against Utahime is also over relatively quickly, with him emerging as the winner and giving you an encouraging pat on the back as you walk up to take your place.

Your opponent is one of the third years, tall with an intimidating stare. You can feel your friends' eyes on you, and you make sure to remain relaxed as you study your opponent. He lunges as soon as the battle starts, and you weave back and forth, dodging his hits as you try to think of the best way to find an opening.

Gojo watches as you dance around your opponent, drawing out the fight by exchanging blows with him as you taunt him. He thinks that saying that you're exchanging blows is too generous considering the fact that your opponent hasn't been able to land a single hit on you at all. The fight ends quickly when you decide to use your cursed technique, and he watches you smile smugly as Yaga announces the winner.

He looks to his side to see Shoko already staring at him, eyebrows raised as she tilts her head towards you.

"You're hopeless," she scoffs, brushing her hair out of her face before leaning back in her seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he responds smoothly, turning back to look at you. He stiffens when he sees you looking in his direction, and he sends a grin and a thumbs up your way.

"Sure you don't," Shoko says in an amused tone, watching the way Gojo's ears turn red when you send him a thumbs up back. "Just tell her you think she's cute."

Gojo gives her a scandalized look, opening his mouth to tell her exactly why that would be a bad idea before his gaze drifts back to you. He stands as he sees you walking over towards the refreshments, brushing Shoko off with a half-wave before following after you.

"Hey!" he breathes out, coming to a stop next to you and reaching out blindly for a drink.

"Gojo, hey! It's been a while," you greet in response. "Sorry I didn't say hi earlier, we were in the middle of a weird conversation."

"The secret, right?" he asks, opening the random bottle in his hand and taking a sip as he tries to ignore the way you giggle at his words.

"Anyways, you did good out there," you tease, your eyes dancing with mirth as you glance at his former opponent. "You're so strong you didn't even have to do anything."

Gojo can't help but chuckle at your words, shaking his head lightly before leaning against the table next to him. "You did great too. You've improved a lot. I heard you're semi-grade 1 now?"

"I am," you confirm, a proud smile present on your face as you nod. Gojo watches the way your hair bounces with the movement, and he resists the urge to reach out and tuck it behind your ear. "I'm hoping to make grade 1 by the beginning of my third year."

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Gojo responds, unable to stop his next words from slipping out. "You're just incredible."

He watches the way your eyes snap to him in shock, a quiet laugh leaving your lips before you look away shyly. He still thinks you're kind but now he thinks that there is room in the jujutsu world for kindness if it comes from you.

"Thanks," you mumble, looking down at your feet.

"I mean it," Gojo says, uncharacteristically gentle with his tone.

A call of your name snaps you out of your shy state, and you turn to see Utahime waving you over frantically. You turn to give Gojo an apologetic look, biting your lip briefly before speaking.

"It was nice catching up with you," you say softly. "We should do it again sometime."

Gojo mutters a goodbye as you walk away, watching as you launch yourself at Utahime when you're close enough for her to catch you. He watches as you toss your head back at something Utahime says, your laughter ringing out across the field before you link arms with her and walk away.

"As I said," Shoko says, sidling up to Gojo as she places a cigarette between her lips. She glances at you before taking in Gojo's almost-lovesick expression, digging her elbow into his side in an attempt to break his stare. "Hopeless."

He makes sure to congratulate you on your promotion at the beginning of your third year.

He doesn't see you after you graduate from Tokyo Jujutsu High.

There's a rumor going around, that you've gone abroad to help in other countries and he finds himself wondering if it's true. He can't bring himself to reach out to Nanami and ask.

He finds himself frequenting the cafe you used to visit with Nanami and Haibara, ordering a dark chocolate croissant and a hot chocolate for himself as he takes a seat in a booth by a window.

It's in this same cafe where you find him, having been told by Yaga that it was where he spent a lot of his time.

His eyes widen in shock as you slide into the seat across from him, immediately recognizing you even if it's been a couple of years since he last saw you. He thinks that the years have been all too kind to you, and the soft grin pulling on your lips makes his heart race the same way it used to back in high school.

He's realizing that he never quite got over you.

"Gojo," you greet, the smile on your face growing when he says your name in return. "I'm glad I found you. I was told that you already knew all the details of the mission and that you'd be filling me in?"

"What?" Gojo asks dumbly, only catching half of the words you said. He straightens up when he processes the word "mission" and he finally understands why you're here in the first place. "You're my partner for the hospital mission?"

You nod eagerly, reaching forward and swiping the croissant off of Gojo's plate.

"Hey! That was mine," he protests weakly, still trying to figure out how you ended up being his partner.

"Consider this revenge for that one time you ate mine," you tease, giving him a sly wink before biting into the pastry. Gojo swears his heart stutters at the action, and he breathes in deeply before focusing on the task at hand.

"So why'd you come back now?" he asks casually, earning a soft hum from you.

"I missed Tokyo," you admit, putting the rest of the croissant down and wiping your hands on a napkin. "Kyoto is nice and I love Utahime, but I missed home. And Shoko, and Nanami, and you, I guess."

Gojo huffs out a laugh at your words, leaning forward and giving you a curious glance. "Kyoto?"

"I was hired after graduation," you explained. "They needed some extra help and I happened to be available. I would've stayed in Tokyo but they really needed someone. Now, what's this I hear about a special grade curse?"

Gojo manages to explain the mission to you without any more distractions, only pausing to see if you have any questions and continuing when you don't. The two of you take off as soon as he finishes, making your way to the old, dilapidated building on the outskirts of the city.

"Creepy," you remark, hands in your coat pocket as you look up at the building. Gojo hums in agreement taking a step forward before looking back at you.

"Remember, you're here to run interference in case something happens," Gojo say seriously. "So here's the plan: you stay behind me and stay alert."

He receives a serious nod from you in return before leading you inside, only for his plan to fall apart almost instantly. He thinks the curse is mildly intelligent; there's no other way to explain the way it separates the two of you so easily as though it had been waiting for your arrival.

Gojo can feel the curse following him, stalking him through the halls until it deems him distracted enough to attack. He's thankful that its chosen him as its target. He doesn't give it the chance to surprise him, immediately appearing behind it and kicking it into through the wall and into the waiting room next door.

He wastes no time in following after it, avoiding its attacks with ease and fighting back when he sees an opening. The two of them move back and forth in a distorted dance, and Gojo can't help the way he giggles at the thought before jumping away from an attack.

His laughter turns into an embarrassing yelp when he steps on a weak piece of wood over a gaping hole, the little, makeshift bridge snapping under his weight and sending his foot through the ceiling. He falls to the ground, arms supporting his weight as he senses the curse approaching eagerly, thinking it's caught him at some sort of disadvantage as it sprints toward him.

Gojo rolls his eyes as he raises his hand, getting ready to exorcise the curse and pausing when something— you, he realized belatedly— bursts through the door. There's a determined look on your face as you kick at the curse, and it's only when the curse disintegrates instantly that Gojo realizes what just happened.

"You just used a black flash," he says casually, his foot still stuck in the floor and hands pushing at the ground in an attempt to get up. You give him a confused look before glancing at the spot where the curse was standing a few seconds ago, kicking at the dust that had settled in the aftermath.

"Oh. Is that what that was?" you ask curiously, a thoughtful hum leaving your lips as you approach him. "Interesting."

"You didn't have to do that, y'know?" Gojo says, his tone filled with amusement as he watches your eyes drift towards his predicament. Your hands loop under his arms, gently pulling him up in an attempt to help.

"You sure?"

"Infinity," Gojo says, the singular word causing your mouth to drop open in realization. "The curse couldn't have touched me anyways. But I'm honored to see that you were so concerned about me."

"I wasn't concerned," you protest weakly, eyes shifting around the room in an attempt to avoid his gaze.

"You were," Gojo teases, laughing when you shoot him a glare. "So concerned in fact, that you manifested a black flash attack."

"Are we done here?" you snap letting go of him and taking a step back. He falls back with a grunt, and you don't wait for your response before turning around and heading to the door. "Okay, good. I'll see you around."

"Hey! Aren't you gonna help me?" Gojo yells, calling after you as your footsteps fade. He tries yelling out your name a few more times before giving up, gently guiding his leg out from the hole before flopping onto his back.

There's a grin on his face as he stares up at the ceiling, thinking about the way you looked as you fought the curse. As you saved him.

When the two of you give Yaga your report the next day, Gojo's eyes stay trained on you.

A couple of months later, Gojo finds himself wandering around an estate unfamiliar to him.

The garden is huge, boasting flowers that Gojo didn't even know existed. He crouches down to examine a small bunch of blooms that he thinks might be forget-me-nots, springing back up to his feet when an attendant softly calls his name.

He gives the young girl a smile before following her down multiple winding hallways, receiving a bow from her when they finally approach a set of large, mahogany doors.

"She will see you now," the attendant says softly, motioning towards the door. "Whenever you're ready, sir."

She leaves him alone in the hallway, and Gojo merely smiles to himself before opening the doors and entering the large room. He approaches the figure in the room confidently before kneeling down and bowing his head, earning a laugh from the person in front of him.

"Please, nothing of that, Gojo Satoru," the woman says, waving towards the seat across from her. "Take a seat. To what do I owe the honor?"

Gojo slides into the wooden seat before looking up, making eye contact with the woman he knows to be your grandmother. The matriarch of your clan.

"I have come with a proposal," Gojo says, ignoring the suspicious look he receives. "I know about the predicament your clan is facing. You're at the risk of being dissolved and I'm sure this will solve your problems."

"You're lying," your grandmother states casually, causing Gojo's eyes to widen slightly. "Tell me why you are truly here."

"How did you know?" Gojo asks quietly, looking down at his hands to avoid her intense gaze.

"Call it women's intuition," your grandmother replies, her eyes crinkling as she smiles. "Now, why are you here?"

Gojo takes a deep breath before straightening up in his seat. He removes his sunglasses, folding the arms and placing them on the table before meeting your grandmother's gaze head-on. "I am here to ask for your permission"

"Permission for what?" your grandmother asks immediately, her tone defensive as she questions him.

"I seem to have fallen in love with your granddaughter," Gojo admits, his heart pounding as he sees the corner of your grandmother's lips twitch. He steels himself before continuing, hoping to anything and everything in the world that your grandmother would hear him out.

"I am here to ask you for your permission to court her and eventually, should she be in agreement, marry her."

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

— ♡ — 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 || 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 — ♡ —

Gojo’s in the middle of an important meeting, but chatting with his wife and daughter is his only priority.

“Satoru, can you please get off of your damn phone?”

Holding up a finger to the frustrated CEO as if to say, “give me a minute,” Gojo laughed casually as he kept his phone pressed against his ear.

The thirteen sharply dressed businessmen seated at the conference table all had their eyes fixated on the chatty sorcerer, who was asked to attend a very important meeting regarding the recent appearance of a special grade curse lurking around the company’s headquarters.

“Really?” Gojo said enthusiastically, leaning back in his office chair, swerving from side to side just a bit. “And what else did you do? What’d you learn at school today?”

Some of the impatient men were less aggravated once they realized who he was talking to — his beloved five year old daughter.

“You learned about the life cycle of a butterfly? Oh, that’s amazing . . . And you drew a picture of one? We’re just gonna have to hang it on the fridge then . . . Mommy packed you your favorite sandwich for lunch? Did you gobble it all up? Sounds like you had a fun day, muffin-”

“Satoru.”

The CEO called the sorcerer’s name again, but the man ignored him, grinning as he listened to his adorable daughter ramble on and on about her exciting day.

“Daddy’s gotta hang up soon, he’s in a very important meeting right now. Can you put mommy on the phone?”

As Gojo spoke sweetly to the young girl over the phone, he glared at the CEO, who sighed in utter defeat once the white-haired man still refused to get off of his phone.

“This is ridiculous, Gojo,” the older man grumbled. “It’s rude, unprofessional, and disrespectful to do this in the middle of a meeting!”

“Yeah?” Gojo raised his eyebrows. “If my daughter calls me, I’m going to answer. And you’re crazy if you think I’m not going to speak to my wife as well.”

“But we have a serious situation that needs to be discussed-”

“No, not really. This meeting is entirely unnecessary, considering I could just kill the curse and be done with it. My kid telling me about caterpillars matters more to me than anything you have to say right now, sir.”

For a moment, as the CEO sighed heavily in frustration, the big conference room was completely silent until Gojo suddenly spoke up.

“Hi baby,” Gojo beamed at the sound of your beautiful voice in his right ear. “Did you have a good day? I miss you . . . What? The store ran out of rice? You’re right, that is ridiculous. Want me to stop at a different store on the way home? . . . I know what kind, sweetheart . . . I’ll be home before dinner, I promise . . . No, I love you more and that’s not up for debate, sorry . . . Alright, I gotta hang up too . . . Okay . . . Bye, baby.”

Once Gojo hung up, the CEO sighed once again, but this time, with relief. But, as he started to speak, Gojo instantly got up from his chair.

“Hey, where are you going?” The CEO shouted, watching as Gojo headed straight for the door, smiling causally with his hands in his pockets.

“I’m going to kill that curse so I can go home. My wife needs more rice and my daughter wants to show me her butterfly picture, so I’m not staying here for a stupid meeting.”

The CEO’s protests were cut off by Gojo shutting the door behind him as he left the conference room.

And, this was, perhaps, the quickest amount of time in which Gojo had ever killed a special grade curse. After all, he missed his beautiful family, and he’d always make it home, no matter what.