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ayo, ebon and jeremy taking a smoke break at the season 3 bear premiere :’)

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ batter up! — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

“I’m you’re only hope if you ever want

to play baseball again.”

synopsis: the best and worst thing about being a sports medic are the athletes. god bless their muscles and good looks, but god can they be dicks. kenji sato, the nation’s current favorite baseball player, is no exception.

pairing: kenji sato x reader

content warnings: angst, enemies to lovers, mentions of injury and blood, cursing and profanity, medical stuff, and a very stubborn kenji :3

status: coming very soon 🐚 taglist: OPEN

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

⁀➴ 001: battered and bruised.

⁀➴ 002: fencebuster

⁀➴ 003: rag arm

⁀➴ 004: rhubarb

⁀➴ 005: foul ball

⁀➴ 006: finding his bat

⁀➴ epilogue: running the races

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

author’s note: hehe a very self indulgent fic🤭🤭my inner med student is squealing !!!

psst! want more kenji stuff? check out ultraman, ultrafine, ultramine!

Limerence | Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Gojo Enterprise's heir wants his family to finally stop hosting events to find him a wife. You were bored with life and wanted something new. You both are stubborn and impulsive, the life you two create together is far from sweet. As you two get to know each other, you both uncover deeper parts to each other’s personalities, including the worst parts of yourselves.

Genre: modern au, richboy!gojo, fluff, angst, smut, 18+

Word Count: 30.4k

Fic warnings: ooc, profanity, toxic relationships, smut, violence, mentions of drug and alcohol use

Notes: please read the warnings. feral gojo, but he's also whipped.

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

richboy!gojo headcanons

surprise visit

All rights reserved © 2024 hauntedcrownpost. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

“WHERE IS MY WIFE?”

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: curses & curse users have discovered satoru’s greatest weakness, and it’s you, satoru’s sweet, ordinary housewife. after getting kidnapped by gojo’s enemies, he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only - mdni - slightly dark content // brief smut, fem reader, feral gojo, canon-typical violence, reader gets kidnapped, reader is wounded/has injuries, angst, fluff/comfort

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5K

♡ —𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I’d count grains of sand if it meant I could spend one minute alone with feral gojo (:

As evening fell, and after a delicious dinner was eaten at the dining table downstairs, Satoru was in the mood for something else now — you.

His pretty housewife would be his dessert.

The apple pie you baked was sitting on the dark marbled counter of the kitchen island, two big slices missing — and the vanilla ice cream tub in the freezer had, of course, two hefty spherical digs in it where the cold treat was scooped out — but, even after his stomach was stuffed after a hard day of fighting curses and teaching his students, Satoru’s head was buried in between your soft thighs, satisfying his other craving.

As your husband moaned softly, his tongue danced around your aching clit. His large hand massaged your thigh. The moonlight pouring in through the big bedroom window shined upon his wedding ring, making it glisten as he rubbed your delicate skin.

“I’ll never get tired of tasting you,” Satoru smiled a bit, his warm breath patting against your wet folds.

“You were made just for me. God, I love it. I love you.”

Two long fingers sunk into your awaiting hole. He attached his soft lips to your clit, sucking on it.

One of your hands gripped at the luxurious pale-cerulean sheets, while your other hand gripped his hair, fingers getting lost in his white locks.

“Satoru!” A sharp moan escaped your dried throat.

Every little noise you made — every moan, every squeak of the thick mattress — it all boasted his desire to please you.

He didn’t stop his licking-sucking-fingering combo until your legs were trembling around his head and he was satisfied with tasting your juices.

Only after devouring your pussy like a starving man feasting on a buffet-style dinner did he rise from his position and make his way across the bed, hovering over you.

With a smile, Satoru leaned down and planted a soft kiss against your lips. But, when he pulled away, he was met with an amused look of disgust.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brows a bit.

“You just kissed me after eating me out,” you said with a little, playful grimace. “That’s nasty.”

“Mrs. Gojo, I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but hush.” Satoru lightly tapped your forehead. “You have swallowed plenty of my-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” shaking your head, you cut off your husband’s naughty sentence, pressing your hand against his lips.

The corners of your mouth burned as you tried to fight off a smile. His latest affectionate nickname was Mrs. Gojo — although it truly wasn’t a nickname due to it technically being your name now — and at every given opportunity, he addressed you that way.

Even after two years of marriage, he was as excited as a freshly wedded man. Your love was a never-ending honeymoon.

You stared into Satoru’s striking blue eyes. He darted his gaze across your gorgeous face, illuminated by the moonlight, and as you ran your fingers through his white hair and he ran his thumb across your cheek, both of you close enough to feel the gentle pats of each other’s breaths on your mesmerizing faces, you both fell in love with each other just a bit more — if that was even possible.

“Can I fuck you now?”

Satoru’s question made a sudden chuckle spilled out from between your lips. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You’re a buffoon. I’m trying to admire your beauty and that’s what you open your mouth to say?” You playfully frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a human being call another human being a buffoon out loud before.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes humorously. “We need to do our skincare routine first. We have to do it an hour before we go to bed or else we might just rub all the product off. I read that somewhere.”

“Why didn’t we do it before we got into bed in the first place?” Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck, pouting, but taking a moment to press a little kiss onto your skin.

“Because you were acting as if you were dying of poison and eating me out was the antidote, so I forgot.” you giggled softly.

“Fine, fine,” your husband slowly rolled off of you in defeat. “Skincare routine, nothing more. Please don’t start trying to organize the bath towels.”

“I’m not making any promises,” you said, getting out of bed and following Satoru into the master bathroom.

There, you and your husband stood in front of the big mirror, cleansing and moisturizing your skin as you both chatted about his students, a movie you watched three days ago, and your breakfast plans in the morning.

And it was those sweet little moments that made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. As he flickered his eyes over to your reflection, watching your smother smooth white cream all over your face as you rambled on about a new egg recipe, he couldn’t help but think about how much he loved you.

—

6:00 A.M.

That night ended with soft sex and gentle kisses.

That morning, Satoru’s white eyelashes fluttered open to the early morning sun starting to rise, casting rays through the drawn window curtains and across his comforter.

He squinted his eyes and yawned.

Typically, he was the sort of man who would never wake up at the ungodly hour if he could help it, but the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs had traveled from the kitchen downstairs to right underneath his nose.

Tossing on his blue houseboat, the grumpy-faced man dragged himself into the kitchen, greeting you with a slightly gruff morning voice and a messy head of hair.

“Good morning, baby,” Satoru walked around the kitchen island and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “How’d you sleep? I had a nightmare.”

With a spatula in one hand, you flipped the omelet in the skillet on the six-burner stove. With the other hand, you rubbed his arm, enjoying the warmth his hovering hug had brought.

“I slept alright,” you said. “Did the smell wake you up?”

“Always does,” he smiled lazily although you couldn’t see it.

“Well, your drink’s ready,” you gave a nod in the general direction of the silver espresso machine, which hummed as it brewed Satoru’s steamy beverage.

“I don’t deserve you,” Satoru’s arms hugged you tighter, and he showered the side of your head with kisses.

“Stop it,” your sweet laughter only egged him on as you clenched the spatula and leaned back against him even more. “No fooling around when we’re this close to the stove.”

Satoru eventually backed away after giving you one final kiss against your forehead temple.

“If all goes well, I should be back home tomorrow before dark, then we can check out that new restaurant. What do you say? I personally think it’s time for a date.”

The image of you and Satoru sipping on wine and as you wore your favorite dress flashed in your mind, and you smiled. A date night was certainly something to look forward to in light of Satoru’s overnight trip.

Sorcering duties had often taken him on distant work trips. Truth be told, you were lucky his departure would only last around twenty-four hours and not twenty-four days. Although you missed him whenever he would leave, you understood his choice of career. He was a hero.

You happened to be an ordinary human being. You couldn’t see curses. You couldn’t use cursed energy or cursed techniques, but you were fine with that.

“A date sounds fun! I’m excited now.” You took the omelet out of the skillet and placed it on a nearby plate. “And we’re making time to try out that new pottery class too. It sounds like such a cute date idea, don’t you think so?”

“I’m with you. I’ll make the reservations for the restaurant, you can schedule us for pottery-making.” This time, he was the one blissfully picturing you and him spinning messy clay with him sitting behind you and reaching around your body for the pottery wheel, your fingers intertwined as you both created a pot. Satoru smiled at the thought. “Anyway, now that you’re done cooking, can I kiss you?”

You nodded with a cheeky grin, and your husband pressed his lips against yours sweetly.

It was as if some part of him was frightened that he would never get the opportunity to kiss you again.

—

8:37 P.M.

The bright light far above your head flickered briefly as you stood in the pasta aisle at your local grocery store, but you hadn’t noticed it, too fixated on the different brands of spaghetti noodles lying on the shelf above you.

Shopping at night wasn’t preferable, but only after tossing together a simmering pan of sauce did you realize you hadn’t started boiling your noodles yet.

And, with your pot of simmering water ready, you opened the cabinet to see no noodles.

So, here you were, making a last-minute, unplanned trip to the grocery store.

By now, the only sort of pasta noodles left were the ones that a person of average height couldn’t reach. Every box was too high.

You turned your head to the left and to the right.

You even bothered to walk down a few aisles to search for an employee or anyone who might have been tall enough to reach your needed item, but the only other person staggering around was an older blonde-haired woman who was shorter than you were.

Frowning in frustration, you returned to the pasta aisle.

If you had to climb the shelves, so be it.

Suddenly, a kind voice spoke over the calming public-friendly background music playing softly in the store.

“Need some help?”

Whipping your head around, you saw a person — a taller person, thank goodness — who had a smile that was just as sweet as his voice.

“Yes, thank you!” You found that his grin was rather contagious, as you ended up smiling as well. “I just need the spaghetti noodles on the top shelf. Any brand will do.”

The beaming man with long, dark hair stepped forward, and you moved to the side, letting the apparent hero save your day.

He pulled down your desired spaghetti noodles with ease.

“Thanks for your help. My spaghetti sauce won’t go to waste now,” you said politely.

Your eyes darted up to the stitched scar across his forehead, then quickly, you glanced away.

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

The man walked down the aisle and left.

There was something familiar about him, oddly enough.

That hair . . . that smile . . .

He reminded you of an old, deceased friend of Satoru’s, one that you hadn’t ever met due to his villainous behavior before his death, but you had seen an old picture of him that he and your husband took during their second year at Jujutsu High, years ago.

As you placed the pasta noodles into your cart, making your way around different aisles to collect a few more items since you were already at the store, you decided that you’d take another look at that photograph once you arrived home, just for peace of mind.

The brown paper bag stuffed with groceries felt rather heavy as you walked down the street, which was brightened by light pouring out of the windows of local businesses that hadn’t yet closed.

You sighed softly.

The dark sky was sparkling with stars. The air was cool and comforting. Soon, you’d have pasta, and perhaps, you’d watch a few episodes of your favorite binge-worthy Netflix show.

If only Satoru was with you.

Chatting with him on the phone a few hours ago only made you miss him even more, but, at least his trip would be a quick one, and soon, you could have dinner with him and listen to his hilarious commentary as you watched television together.

After walking for around five minutes, you were no longer close to the local businesses that made you feel a sense of comfort during your evening stroll.

Now, you had to rely on the occasional streetlight to guide you home.

But that cold air was no longer comforting. It was a chilling breeze that made you clench your grocery bag a bit tighter.

Your footsteps suddenly halted — you could hear something moving in the nearby bushes.

Turning around, you were greeted with nothing but darkness and streetlights. No one else was with you. You kept walking.

However, something wasn’t right.

You might not have been a sorcerer, but you weren’t a fool.

And you had a gut-wrenching feeling that right now, as your wobbly legs guided you home, you were being watched.

You heard that noise again.

The grocery bag crinkled against your chest. You were certain that the bread you purchased was squished by now. If someone was following you, did you really want to unintentionally lead them to your home?

Where should you go? What should you do?

A tear rolled down your cheek from fear.

You were scared. You only wanted to go home, finish your pasta, and watch television.

You didn’t want to deal with such a potentially terrifying situation.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your dial screen.

Your trembling thumb hovered over the buttons, but before you could press anything, a black, disfigured curse appeared in front of you, screeching loudly enough to make you drop everything in your hands and cover your ears, more tears falling as the horrifying monster started to charge at you.

You tried to run in the other direction, but it was too late.

The last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness was that man from the grocery store standing on the sidewalk, that same sweet smile on his familiar face.

—

12:27 A.M.

Satoru’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, as he had spent most of the night tossing and turning because you weren’t lying next to him. But, apparently, he did manage to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye.

When he awakened, there was a terrible ache in his heart. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and beads of sweat decorated his forehead. His throat was dried to a crisp.

He was all alone in his dark hotel room.

He couldn’t hear you.

He couldn’t see you.

And yet, somehow, someway, thanks to his great power, he knew that his wife was calling for him.

—

The overwhelming scent of old, wet, musky wood and dust would never be forgotten by your memory. A lifetime of therapy would never be able to erase the paralyzing fear you felt, sitting on the cold, hard ground of an abandoned cabin with your hands bound behind your back.

Maybe the fear wasn’t completely paralyzing, though. Your body seemed to tremble with terror just fine.

The sight of it made Suguru Geto — no, Kenjaku chuckle.

He kept his eye on you for no other reason besides his entertainment, as watching you himself was pointless considering he had two frightening curses looming over you.

Once, Satoru shared a fun fact with you: regular human beings cannot see curses unless they are about to die.

That fact was certainly interesting when the two of you were strolling through the beautiful park, a red and white striped blanket in your hand and a picnic basket in his. But, now, that fact only made sweat drip off of your scarred forehead, because you could see the two, black, disfigured curses.

It was a telltale sign that you could die.

“I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him myself,” Kenjaku suddenly spoke, relaxing in a chair he had positioned a few feet away from the corner you were trapped in. “But I have seen memories of Satoru Gojo that belonged to this body I’ve inhabited. And, I must say, I couldn’t imagine that his wife would be such a weakling. It’s truly pathetic.”

Even if you wanted to reply to him, fear had snatched away your ability to speak. It created a lump in your throat that couldn’t be swallowed down.

“My best guess is that he needs someone boring and ordinary in his life to keep house while he’s busy saving the world. You’re just the cook and maid with a ring on her finger, hm?”

“He loves me.”

Your voice was small — it was a painfully perfect reflection of how you felt on the inside. Weak and pathetic.

“Oh?” Kenjaku raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Believe it or not, I hope you’re right, or else kidnapping you was a waste of time.”

Your chains rattled as you shifted in your spot on the floor, scooting as far into the corner as you could get. An ache shot up your spine from the wall pressing into your back. Pulling your knees to your chest, more tears slipped from your eyes.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he falsely cooed. “Surely you’ve wondered why the world’s strongest sorcerer would settle for someone who forgets to double-check all of their ingredients before they start cooking, haven’t you? It’s not because of love, or anything of the sort. It’s because those who are deeply insecure would do anything to please anyone who looks their way. Only an ordinary, desperate housewife with low self-esteem and no ambition would waste time caring for a man who risks his life saving strangers. What would make you think he cares for you when he spends more time with curses than his own wife? Helping strangers more than his own family? Think about it.”

Kenjaku’s hurtful words were met with silence, but he didn’t stop speaking.

“I bet you’re nothing but a burden to him. Someone like him probably hates being tied down, but marrying a fool who contributes nothing to society is the only way he can get someone else to handle his laundry while he’s busy working hard, hm? He must carry around divorce papers, ready to serve them to you the day you forget to buy detergent from the grocery store.” Kenjaku’s smile brightened. “Oh, that reminds me. You dropped your detergent and other groceries on the road earlier, by the way. Looks like you’re useless now.”

“You . . .” your teary eyes flickered from him to the hovering curses. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that’s true.”

“You have to believe that I’m speaking honestly, Y/N.” Kenjaku sighed with fake sincerity. “My entire plan rests on the hope that Satoru Gojo is foolish enough to try to rescue you. You see, when you want to lure someone out, the proper way to do it is by discovering their weaknesses. When I found out about you, I was hoping that you would be his weakness. That I could use you to lure him out. Then I met you, and, well, you’re simply disappointing. Sorry to break it to you, but I have memories of the old conversations Satoru used to have with Suguru, and being tied down to a powerless housewife was certainly not how he imagined his future. But, I figured I’d try anyway, and so here you are, and he’s not here to rescue you. What a shame. I bet he’s hoping I’ll kill you so he’ll be free.”

He was lying. He had to be. Satoru loved you more than anything . . . right?

The thought had crossed your mind before; why did Satoru want to be with someone powerless? And this villain’s plan to lure out your husband relied on his hope that he’d come to rescue you out of love, so how would it benefit him to convince you Satoru didn’t love you?

Maybe he was right.

After all, if Satoru cared for you, he would have saved you by now. Where was he?

You couldn’t help but cry even harder.

“Please let me go home,” your tears clouded your vision. “Please let me go.”

“Well, you should know that I hate wasting time,” Kenjaku rested his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow pressing into the arm of the chair he sat in. “I can’t let you leave. I won’t let the effort I put into kidnapping you be a total waste.”

Kenjaku’s smile widened, and suddenly, the curses started to move towards you.

—

1:45 A.M.

The subway station was isolated. No ordinary human beings were lurking around, and Satoru was relieved. Right now, he’d kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

His shoes gently shuffled against the ground as he made his way into the middle of the big, bright opening, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm, hard enough to draw blood.

Two special grade cursed spirits emerged. He recognized them both from a previous fight in the woods.

Volcano head. Asparagus.

“Satoru Gojo,” Jogo suddenly said. “We didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to-”

“Where is my wife?”

When Satoru interrupted the curse, his voice was low. Dark. Startling.

Blood dripped from his palms and splattered onto the ground.

“I was drawn here, but she isn’t here, is she? Where is she? Tell me now, and I’ll kill you quickly instead of slowly.”

Jogo chuckled a bit. Satoru dug his nails into his palm even more.

“Bring us the vessel, Yuji Itadori, and we’ll return that worthless-”

The two curses didn’t have time to blink — weren’t able to register in their minds that Satoru had moved from his previous spot until Jogo was lifted off of the ground and thrown into the flickering light fixture above, shattering it and causing sparks to rain down onto the ground below, where he then fell.

Satoru stepped on Jogo’s head, squishing it underneath his black shoe.

“I remember you. You’re stubborn, right?” Satoru gritted his teeth. “Who the hell do you think you are to take her from me? Whoever you work for must want you dead if they’re stupid enough to send you on a suicide mission. You think I’ll let you leave here alive after this?”

“If you kill us, you’ll never see her again,” the other cursed spirit, Hanami, suddenly spoke up. “Bring us the vessel, and she lives.”

When Satoru suddenly stopped moving, it was only to ensure that he had heard the cursed spirit correctly.

“Did you just threaten . . .” Satoru removed his blindfold, “to kill my wife?”

It was only a matter of time before the branches attached to Hanami’s head were ripped out, and Jogo was beheaded. The subway was reduced to nothing except crumbling walls and darkness. While the cursed spirits were teetering dangerously between life and death, there wasn’t a scratch on Satoru. Instead, there was a smile.

This was simply the consequence of their actions. This was what happened to anyone who laid a hand on his girl.

Hanami’s body was on the brink of collapse as it was forced to come in contact with Satoru’s cursed technique — a blue shield-like piece of infinity that distorted and manipulated both time and space, protecting the sorcerer from attacks and rendering Hanami powerless.

Hanami’s eyes darted over to their beheaded ally — they couldn’t help him.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Satoru’s eyes widened. His smile grew. He slowly turned, facing Hanami, and blasted him back against the nearest wall without lifting a finger. “Where is my wife?”

—

2:39 A.M.

Kenjaku had never understood the concept of love, and, perhaps, that was why he failed.

Satoru’s love for you was his weakness, that was true, but it also turned out to be his greatest strength, and this was a fight Kenjaku couldn’t win.

Not today.

One of his curses, which had been traveling to and fro to observe what was currently taking place in the subway station and reporting it back to Kenjaku, had informed him that Jogo and Hanami were on the brink of death.

He couldn’t lose them yet. They were too powerful, and he needed their help for his future plans.

Kenjaku left the cabin, taking his curses with him.

And, without their cursed energy purposely making it difficult for Satoru to find you, he was able to pinpoint your exact location.

It appeared in his powerful mind as he was ripping Hanami apart limb by limb, and he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t know who was behind all of this, but it was clear that the mastermind had suddenly decided to let your whereabouts be tracked down in order to save Hanami and Jogo.

He didn’t want to make that deal. He wanted to kill these two, bring them back to life, and kill them over again. Their pain brought him joy, all because they took part in your capture.

But Satoru didn’t want his bloodlust to backfire. After all, if he killed the cursed spirits now, the person who held you captive could change their mind and move you someplace else and hide your location yet again, or, worse — they could kill you.

That wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

Satoru stopped using his technique. But, as he left the subway station, he promised himself that eventually, he would kill those two. He would kill anyone and everyone involved.

But you came first.

You would always come first.

—

He found you.

When Satoru kicked open the door belonging to a raggedy, abandoned cabin, the scent of blood overwhelmed him. It dirtied his boots as he kneeled by your side. Your unconscious, bleeding body was lying there, simply left on the ground as if you were nothing.

“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out breathlessly.

He took the chains off of you instantly, his bloodshot eyes darting over every gaping wound.

It was indescribable — the anger he felt. He wanted to return to the subway and finish off those cursed spirits, to make them suffer and suffer and suffer.

But tending to you took priority right now. Satoru scooped up your broken and bruised body, holding you as softly as he could. A tear fell from his eye, splattering against your cheek.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he spoke gently.

Your eyelids fluttered as you awakened. An overwhelming sense of pain slammed into you once you regained consciousness, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Prior to this, the only pain you had ever known was the wholesome body ache from tripping and falling while playing outside with your friends as a child. But this level of misery took away your ability to speak. Left you wondering if you were going to die.

You could make out stains of your blood on Satoru’s clothes.

Even so, you could tell based on the pained look on his face that he was suffering even more just from seeing you in such a condition.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled, slowly getting off the ground as he carried you. “This is all my fault. They did this to you because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Satoru raised you a bit, gently pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

He’d give anything to switch places with you right now — to be the one in unspeakable pain. Why couldn’t they have kidnapped him? Tortured him? If he had the power to take away your suffering and give it to himself, he would. For you, not only would he kill, but he’d die, repeatedly and without a second thought or a moment of hesitation.

As Satoru took you to the nearest hospital, his tears spilling onto your body, he said, “We’re almost there, okay? I promise I’ll make them pay for this, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Arriving into the uncomforting white halls of the emergency room, Satoru handed you off to the nurses and doctors who rushed up to him. But, before they placed you on the nearest stretcher, Satoru kissed your forehead once again as unconsciousness claimed you, and he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

—

10:02 A.M.

Two days later, you awakened in a hospital bed. This time, pain didn’t greet you, but grogginess and blurred vision. The gentle beeps from the nearby machines certainly didn’t help your pounding headache.

Your sight started to clear up after blinking a few times.

Soft strands of hair tickled your arm, and when you looked to your left, you saw Satoru slumped in a chair, his head resting in his arms on the side of your bed. You reached over and ruffled his messy white hair a bit.

He shot up, startled. His blue eyes were wide with alarm, then they softened with gratefulness, but, lastly, they darted down with sorrow.

“Y/N . . . thank god, you’re awake.” Satoru croaked out in his morning voice, clearing his throat a bit. He was dehydrated — too focused on your recovery to worry about himself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so . . .”

Satoru got out of his chair, sat on the side of your bed, and leaned over, resting the side of his head against your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled weakly. “It’s mine.”

Satoru pulled his head away from you, staring at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze.

“What? No, it’s not.”

You couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye. Kenjaku’s words replayed in your mind. They hurt just as much as getting attacked by curses.

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru cupped your chin, turning your head back in his direction.

“Look at me,” he said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care if you can’t fight curses-”

“You’re just saying that . . . because I’m kinda useful to you. But I’m easily replaceable. Speaking honestly, I’m a burden. You had to come save my life, and put yourself in danger. I’m not worth it.”

“You think I married you because you’re useful?” Hurt flashed in Satoru’s piercing eyes. “I’m in love with you, and you’ll never be a burden. I don’t care if you can’t fight curses. You’re my wife for a reason, and that’s because there’s nothing greater than seeing you get excited over finding your favorite snack at the grocery store or seeing the way you smile when your favorite scene from a show comes on, and you sit there and watch it as if you haven't seen it a thousand times. I love the way your eyes light up when you find a new activity in town for us to try, or a new book to read, or a new recipe. God, I just . . . I love you. I love you more than anything. I don’t know how you’re able to put up with someone like me. Every day I wonder how I got so lucky because I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, and I haven’t met anyone as loving as you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you understand me? I’d kill and die for you.”

Satoru gently wiped away the tear that fell from your eyes with his thumb.

“I love you too,” you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry we missed our dinner reservations and the pottery class.”

Satoru couldn’t help but lean in and kiss your cheek.

“I’ve already rescheduled two weeks out.”

Moving away from your cheek, your husband softly kissed your lips. And while he had spent time rescheduling your date night and making sure you were receiving the excellent care you deserved while in the hospital, he was also hard at work, tracking down the monsters that dared to lay a hand on you.

He would make them suffer.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @nnasv @hyunorue

MEETING THEIR FAMILY — JJK MEN ✧ feat. satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, megumi fushiguro, suguru geto

details: jjk men x reader headcanons. unspecified timeline. allusions to the hidden inventory arc in gojo's part. toji's part is a bit suggestive if you squint. dad! gojo in megumi's part.

a/n: first post in a couple days,,, pleeease send me ideas for works. i need them. desperately.

⋆⁺₊⋆ SATORU GOJO

"if my dad glares at you, just smile back. it'll piss him off, and it'll be funny. and if my mom tries to hug you, just let her. and if-"

"satoru."

your boyfriend's mouth snaps shut as an impatient voice sounds from behind him. satoru turns around and lets out a lengthy sigh. "long time no see, old man."

you recognize satoru's dad from the pictures, but he's even more intimidating in person. he has the same tufty white hair as his son, but his gray eyes are devoid of all the warmth in satoru's.

"satoru, will you ever grow up?" his dad sighs, barely looking at you before fixing his eyes back on your boyfriend. satoru’s dad raises an eyebrow as if he's waiting for something, but the only gesture he recieves from his son is an eye roll.

if satoru wasn't so carefree, you probably would've been crushed by the sheer tension in the room by now. but your boyfriend slings an arm around your shoulders and smirks down at you, trying to ease away some of your discomfort.

"ah, won't you even say hi to my girlfriend?" satoru cooes, still looking down at you from over his sunglasses. "c'mon, old man, i know you have it in you to be friendly!"

satoru's dad ignores him, gray eyes now focused on you. underneath the yukata that satoru insisted you wear, you fidget with your fingernails, suddenly feeling rather out of place.

after a moment, satoru's dad makes a disapproving face, but (out of courtesy) extends his hand. "nice to meet you." 

his tone makes it sound like this is the last thing he finds nice about today, but you shake his hand anyways. he has a firm grip, and as he pulls away he looks back at satoru, whose eyes have narrowed slightly.

"your mother wanted to see you," satoru's dad says, gesturing to the area behind him. "don't keep her waiting." and with that, the head of the gojo household strolls away, each step perfectly aligned with the next.

satoru watches him leave, a strange expression on his face. “sorry ‘bout him."

he hesitates before quietly murmuring, "he didn’t really like suguru either.”

you don’t really know what to say to that, and neither does satoru. after a second, he exhales and takes your hand, a lopsided grin on his face. “i think my mom’ll like you. she likes everyone.”

and she does – satoru’s mom is endearing and welcoming. the second you poke your head in after satoru, she gasps and rushes over to give you a hug. 

satoru’s mom resembles her son less than his dad, but you can still see bits of satoru in her features. the shape of his eyes and his smile, two of your favorite things about your boyfriend, definitely come from his mother.

“ah, you’re so pretty!” satoru’s mom says, pinching your cheek fondly. “does my son treat you well?”

you laugh and glance over at satoru, who’s looking at his mom and his girlfriend affectionately. both of your hands are now clasped in his mom’s, and it’s so much warmer in here than outside with his dad.

“he does his best,” you reply, laughing at the devastated look on satoru's unfairly pretty face. 

“i do more than my best!” he says indignantly, walking over to you and hugging you from behind. “you said i’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had!”

satoru’s mom smiles at your banter, watching tenderly at how happy her son seems. she and satoru’s dad were only married in name – there was no love in their relationship. so to see her son, who had once flipped off his dad for even suggesting an arranged marriage, in a happy relationship? that was the best gift she could’ve gotten.

satoru notices the soft smile on his mom’s face and mirrors it with one of his own.

the gojo’s don’t have it half-bad.

⋆⁺₊⋆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"megs, where are you?" your boyfriend calls, unlocking the door and pushing it open. toji gestures for you to go in first before following and locking the door behind you. "megumi?"

tonight was the first night you were spending at toji's place – before, the two of you had mostly met in bars and hotels. this was the first time you'd actually get to see his home.

most of it is what you'd expect – beige colored walls, comfortable-looking furniture, and hints of traditional elements here and there. 

what you didn't expect was for a little kid with a prominent scowl to appear out of nowhere. "what is it?" he asks your boyfriend, surveying you with his dark blue eyes before asking "and who's she?"

toji kneels down to the kid's height and ruffles his hair, grinning when his hand gets swatted away. "she's the pretty girl i told you about, remember?"

"i barely listen to half the things you say."

"watch it, kid. that mouth's gonna get you in trouble someday," toji says amusedly before standing back up and smirking at you. "this's my kid, megumi."

toji's son has the same spiky black hair as he does. in fact, coupled with his matching dark eyes, he's almost like a miniature toji.

you meet megumi's eyes and offer a smile. "hey."

megumi narrows his eyes slightly before crossing his arms and looking back at toji. "you bring home too many girls," he says plainly.

"and you hated all of them," toji grumbles, reaching out to ruffle megumi's hair affectionately. toji looks up at you and scoffs, muttering "don't listen to megs. he's just try'n to get you to break up with me."

megumi futilely tries to push toji's hand away, but this time your boyfriend doesn't let megumi's little hands dictate his own. 

amid toji's laughs and megumi's protests, you watch their banter endearingly. it's not all that common to see this softer side of toji – well, soft would still be the wrong word, but it could work.

"so," toji says conversationally after ushering megumi away. "what'd you think?"

"of megumi?"

"no shit," he says dryly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "i'm curious." his dark eyes focus on your own, and you can tell that he's genuinely interested in your opinion.

you shrug and say "he seems... sweet." toji laughs at that and shakes his head.

"you serious?" he asks, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "well, i think he likes you."

"really?" megumi didn't really give you any hints as to how he felt about you (just like when you met his dad), so you were mostly in the dark. "how do you know?"

toji removes his hand from around your shoulders and smoothes his hair, a lazy grin forming on his lips. "every other time i bring a girl home, he just scowls n' walks away. he stuck around this time."

"oh." 

you turn and glance back to where megumi was and think for a second before looking up at toji suspiciously. "and how many girls have you brought here before?"

"for all i care, zero."

⋆⁺₊⋆ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

the first time megumi brings you home, an arm casually wrapped around your shoulders, you wonder why he didn't warn you what was coming.

"meguuumi!" a familiar voice calls from another room. "you're late!"

there's only one person you know with a voice as distinct as that one, and he pokes his head out from the corner and confirms your suspicions. 

it's satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, and apparently, your boyfriend's acting father figure. before you can turn to megumi and demand answers, gojo calls "megumi, since when do you have a girlfriend?"

he doesn't know?

megumi scowls and removes his arm from your shoulders and tucks a hand into his pocket. "why're you home so early?"

gojo looks at him from over his dark sunglasses and grins. "what, are you not happy to see me?" he tsks, before fixing his cerulean eyes on you. "you're megumi's girlfriend, yeah?"

it's hard to answer while those piercing eyes are locked on your own, but you manage to smile and nod. "yeah, i am." 

"tch, i'm not that scary," gojo grumbles, running a hand through his white hair and flopping down on one of the chairs. before he can continue talking, megumi grabs your hand and starts to walk away.

"c'mon, let's go to my room," he mutters, ignoring gojo's protests in the background. "i'll explain there."

the second megumi shuts the door behind him, you pull your hand away and cross your arms. "why didn't you tell me that satoru gojo was your dad?"

"he's not."

"fine, your guardian or whatever," you huff, squinting your eyes. "he's practically famous around here!"

megumi sits on the corner of his bed and fixes his dark blue eyes on you intently. "that's why i didn't tell you."

well, it wasn't a very good excuse, but it could be a lot worse. and megumi's not entirely wrong either – had you known that megumi was living with gojo beforehand, you would've acted drastically different. 

"could've at least given me a heads-up," you mumble, plopping down next to him. "then i might've been able to avoid looking like an idiot."

"you didn't look like an idiot," megumi responds automatically. "maybe just a little... timid? nervous? sh-"

before he can continue, a pillow hits him in the face. "what? i was just-"

another pillow interrupts him. "you're terrible at comforting people!" you huff, brandishing another pillow like a sword. "and you didn't even tell him about me beforehand! that was his first impression of me! ever!"

megumi picks up the two pillows you already threw at him and narrows his eyes at the third one in your hands. "i didn't have a reason to tell him."

"why not?"

"he'd be annoying about it."

you stick your tongue out at him and wrap your arms around the pillow, smiling when you see megumi visibly react. "i think that'd be funny."

megumi scowls, and your smile turns into a full-fledged grin. on the other hand, megumi's scowl deepens when gojo opens the door and pokes his head inside. 

"c'mon, you two, have some food. you just came back from school," he says, briefly eying the pillows in both of your hands. "what were you-"

"okay," megumi interrupts, standing up quickly and offering a hand to you. "let's go."

the rest of the day passes quickly. their house is entertaining – you'll never get tired of the way gojo constantly tries to bug megumi, and the way megumi never reacts will never get old. 

and when it's time for megumi to walk you home, you think that he's lucky to have someone like gojo to lean on. sure, he has a reputation for being anything but reliable, but just from spending a couple hours with the two of them, you can tell that gojo would really do anything for megumi.

⋆⁺₊⋆ SUGURU GETO

“suguru, are your parents scary?”

your dark-haired boyfriend looks up at the sound of your whispered questinon, surprised. “what makes you say that?”

you shrug, crossing your arms and looking around. the two of you are sitting on the floor in his parents’ house – apparently suguru wants to surprise them. he hasn’t visited in a really long time, and to bring you along? he thought it was a master plan.

“i don’t know, your house is just so neat,” you say, still blown away by how everything is just in place. 

suguru laughs and shakes his head. “since when are neat people scary?”

“since i said so.”

before suguru can tell you all about why you’re wrong, a tall dark-haired man walks in, talking with someone on his phone. when he sees you and suguru, he stops talking.

after a second, he slowly says “i’ll call you back,” and flips his phone closed. “suguru?”

your boyfriend smiles warmly and stands up, walking over to the man and doing the half-handshake half-hug thing that guys do.

“where’s mom?” suguru asks, pulling away after a second and looking around. the man (presumably his dad) smiles and calls out an unfamiliar name.

“what is it? do we have visitors?” a female voice shouts back, sounding like it’s coming closer. a short woman with smile lines around her eyes walks in through one of the many doorways and perks up when she sees suguru and you. “suguru!”

your boyfriend’s smile widens into a grin, and he runs into the woman’s arms.

they seem like a tight-knit family, and it’s nice to see suguru this relaxed. lately, he’s been a bit on edge, but you weren’t entirely sure why. not wanting to interrupt the family moment, you stay sitting and watch them confer, feeling a bit out of place. then, suguru turns and gestures for you to come to him.

“i haven’t introduced you to my girlfriend yet, have i?” he says, comfortably wrapping an arm around your shoulders. suguru’s parents wear matching endearing smiles, and you wonder how you could have ever thought they’d be scary.

suguru’s dad has dark circles under his eyes, probably from the business lifestyle suguru’s mentioned to you a couple times. on the other hand, his mom looks well-rested, but they both seem like really nice people.

“oh, she’s so pretty!” suguru’s mom says warmly, opening her arms for a hug. you smile and hug her, a bit surprised by how tight her hugs are.

and just like that, the whole space becomes ten times more welcoming. suguru’s mom offers you a cup of tea, but you insist that you can make one yourself. 

“come on, sweetheart,” she says, taking both your hands in her own. “let me make a cup of tea for my daughter-in-law, please?”

daughter-in-law?

“oh, we’re not-” you and suguru both say at the same time, nervous smiles creeping up both of your faces.

“we’ll see,” is all suguru’s mom says as she turns and strolls off to the kitchen, humming a tune that sounds vaguely familiar.

“ah, sorry about my wife,” suguru’s dad says dryly. he has the same narrow eyes as suguru, but his hair is thinner than his son’s. “she can be a bit… overbearing,” he continues affectionately.

“it’s fine,” you say, a smile finding its way to your lips. 

“more than fine,” suguru chimes in, pulling you closer. 

it really is.

a/n: i think the toji one is my favorite tbh

reblogs very appreciated!

These days I have been working on other drawings and finishing the ones I had pending, this is one of them, which joins the collection I already have 🤣

Watching JJK is the worst because the hotter they are the more likely they will die.

we lost the whole emo band dawg. rip :((

men in suits are my weakness

I MISS OVULATION WEEK I HAD SO MANY GOOD THOUGHTS (eating nanamis ass)

i'm in his dms like please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

i love the more well known characters and all but im pushin them all aside to focus on those in the back. i love background characters so fucking much. ino..... ino come back..

BOY MOM GOJO SO CANON

i crumble completely when you cry ; suguru geto

synopsis; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.

word count; 6.2k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, no really that’s literally all this fic is, sugu snaps at you for worrying about him, (and then promptly spirals), he makes it up to you though :), healthy communication ensues, [name] is used exactly once, switching povs, soft & fluffy ending <33

a/n; going back to my roots (mindless hurt/comfort) 🙏🙏 i just think that if suguru picked me up like a small kitten and put me in his lap it would fix me

you’re cold.

little shivers run through your body, down your spine, and all you can do is clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. the heavy rain falls down without mercy, going pitter patter as it hits the asphalt. a sudden lightning strike lights up the town, flashing in the reflection of puddles, and you manage a weak jolt.

dark clouds blanket the whole sky, not allowing even a sliver of blue to shine through the darkness of the rainy evening. enveloping you, surrounding you, soft earthy scents — wet asphalt, roses blooming to your left and right, bushes with sweet-smelling flora guiding your path, little petals glistening with droplets and bouncing with the force of the rain.

it’d be comforting, were it not for one simple fact; 

you don’t have an umbrella.

at this point, thirty minutes into your solemn, sniffly walk, you’re absolutely soaked. with only a measly hoodie to cover your body and head, and a tank top sticking to the skin beneath it — you were stupid to think you’d get out of it unscathed. your shoes feel uncomfortable, wet soles sticking to the asphalt, two heavy weights carrying you down the familiar street ahead of you.

you let out a shuddering breath. 

gosh, this was stupid. you knew it was going to rain, but still walked out without a care in the world; despite the weather forecast, despite suguru’s warnings over breakfast, despite the dark clouds covering the milk-blue sky. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. you just felt so helpless.

you just couldn’t stay there.

some fresh air, and a bit of space. that was all you needed. just that one sliver of comfort.

so, yeah, maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly when you stormed out. maybe you weren’t thinking nearly enough, not enough to even grab one of the umbrellas hanging off the coatrack. hanging there just for you, the cutest little frog umbrella, one suguru bought for you himself. big, googly eyes, and a big smile. the most perfect shade of green. 

(he put it there just for you.)

maybe you weren’t thinking at all. maybe you just needed to get away, away from him, away from the frustration on his features. arguments with suguru are few and far between — it only adds to the sting of his cold voice still ringing in your ears. you bite down on your bottom lip again, just to stop it from wobbling so pitifully. blinking rapidly, tears and raindrops clinging to your lashline.

you were just worried. is that so awful? 

(why did he have to be so fucking mean about it?)

a sigh flows from your lips, heavy and defeated and undeniably tired. you hate feeling like this, this bitter, hate feeling like you’ve done something wrong. more than anything, you hate arguing with him — hate the idea of him being angry with you. hate the way his voice turns colder, just a little sharper, an octave lower. he never raises it, never ever, but somehow he still sounds so scary. 

it bothers you. bothers you how sensitive you are when it comes to him. just that shivering tilt of his voice, coupled with the annoyance in his eyes, was enough to make your eyes a little glassy. one little sentence, and you were close to breaking out into a sob. because suguru was angry with you, and that alone makes you feel like you’ve done nothing right in your life.

so you left. because that was all you could do. 

sure, the sharp pelting of the rain hurts a little, and the thunder is scary, and you’re awfully cold — but anything is better than having suguru see you burst into tears over such a small argument. you know he’d try to soothe you, know he’d feel guilty. but that just makes it all the more embarrassing. 

(all the more pathetic.)

so you left, rushed out of your own apartment, and before you knew it the storm was rolling in above you. rain and thunder, something to rival the ache in your chest. it still hasn’t been that long, a little over half an hour, and you still haven’t fully calmed down. you still don’t know how to face him. but —

but fuck, it’s cold. and an undeniable part of you yearns to run back into his arms, to make up with him, to hear his voice turn warm and see his eyes go soft. you want him to soothe you so, so badly. like he always does. 

another sigh — more resigned this time — slips from out your lips. your bones feel sore, you’re almost certain you’re going to catch a cold, and it’s getting late. you’re all alone, and it’s raining, and you look vulnerable and helpless. 

you want to go home.

it’ll be awkward, but maybe you can sneak in somehow — without him noticing. then you can go straight to sleep, on the couch, and maybe you’ll feel a little better tomorrow. the two of you can talk it out over breakfast, over warm coffee, and you can tell him what you meant to say without stumbling over what words to use or dancing around the subject like a scared little child.

you’re just too tired to argue anymore.

he just made you feel so stupid. so very, very small. suguru’s been working so hard lately, coming home late, exhausting himself. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. that, and to coax him into relaxing a bit; maybe take a day off to recharge. that was all.

but he just brushed you off.

and, well, maybe you should’ve backed off after that. maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign that suguru didn’t feel up to answering your questions. but you were just so worried, so pitifully anxious, and you just wanted to help him so, so badly.

suguru is always so dependable. always there to help you, to ground you, to console you. even when you push him away or insist you don’t need it. he can be pushy, when he feels like he needs to, when your health is at risk — and it’s frustrating, but you’ve always appreciated it. you just wanted to return the favour. push him, just a little, to show him how much you care. show him that he can depend on you the way he insists you do with him.

but then he grew frustrated.

”suguru… you’ve been working so much, i’m —” you bite down on your bottom lip. ”i’m just worried that you’re overdoing it.” ”… god. how many times do i have to say it? i know my limits, [name].” ”but — you just look so tired —” ”well, i’m sorry for that.” a cold smile. ”am i not living up to your expectations?”

(that’s not what you meant. he knows that’s not what you meant.)

and it makes you feel frustrated, too. pardon you for being worried. for wanting to be there for him, for once, for wanting to be a supportive partner and not just a burden. 

pardon you for feeling a little lonely, with him coming home so late, leaving so early. with him not giving you the affection you’re so used to, and never confiding in you about his stress.

pardon you for wanting him to trust you, a little, even just a sliver more than not at all.

god, you’re exhausted. you just want to sleep — can’t you have that, at least? just that one thing? you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, don’t mind feeling like a stranger in your own home, as long as you get to rest your eyes. just for a little while. 

your brain spins in circles, bitterness and longing heavy on your tongue, as you grumble over what to do or how to feel — 

while your feet have already begun taking you home. moving almost on their own, on instinct, walking past rose bushes and backyards, the smell of glucose and rotting apples. 

and you’re there before you know it: in front of the familiar door to your shared apartment, soaked from head to toe. still feeling a little lost.

for a second, you hesitate.

maybe he’s still angry. maybe he was happy to get some time away from you. maybe you’re just making things worse by doing this, maybe you should just —

but your fingers have already fished out the key from within your pocket, unlocking the door in one swift motion. moving up to curl around the doorknob, a desperation in your veins guiding you closer to his steady warmth.

and before you have the chance to waver again, you pull the door open and step inside.

you move slowly, gentle and careful, almost cautious. softly closing the door behind you and taking a couple quiet steps forward, only to shrug off your hoodie — heavy, soaking wet and discomforting as you pull it over your head. clumsily, you try to get it off you, squirming when the warm indoors air meets your sweaty tank top. it feels soothing on your bare skin, though, ghosting over your shoulders and collarbone, hoodie now clinging to your elbows.

in the middle of the taxing endeavor, you almost fail to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away. 

almost, because it’d be impossible for you to miss him, that heavy gaze of his.

and before you can think the thought to do anything else, you’ve locked eyes with him — arms still tangled up in the wet sleeves of your hoodie, raindrops and sweat sticking to your skin.

(suguru takes a moment to look at you.)

not daring to say anything, afraid to part your lips, you simply stand there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, you can’t really read his expression — you’re a little too tired, a little too caught off guard.

you can only blink, worry surely evident in your furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense.

and then he’s walking away again. 

crestfallen. that’s probably the best way to describe how you feel right now, watching him disappear around the corner. dejected, as your eyes fall to the floor, and your posture wilts like a dying rose. you finally shake off your hoodie and watch it fall to the floor with a gross, wet plap.

it hurts. you want to cry. you can’t help it. even though a part of you is still upset, even though a part of you fully expected this to happen… 

another part was still hoping he’d be happy to see you. as if just seeing his smile again might’ve fixed everything.

but he didn’t even give you that.

that’s that, then. there’s nothing you can do except proceed with your original plan. you’ll change into some warm, dry clothes, and go to sleep on the couch like the miserable dog you are. you’ll leave everything troublesome and disheartening for tomorrow’s you to handle. 

for now, you just have to worry about getting some sleep. you don’t have to think about suguru, or his cold voice, or the way he just walked away without saying anything. 

you don’t have to think about him at all. 

(don’t think. don’t think. don’t —)

— the soft patter of footsteps breaks you out of your anxious spiral. they come closer and closer, until a certain silhouette enters your vision out of the corner of your eye.

a certain suguru geto, hair down and cascading past his shoulders, wearing a comfortable sweater and loose sweatpants with a fluffy towel in tow.

once again, you can only blink. a vaguely confused deer in headlights. suguru comes closer and closer, until you can clearly see his eyes, amber gold, full of an emotion you finally manage to identify —

worry.

(ah.)

before you can say anything, he’s draped the towel around you. it feels nice, a soft texture on your skin, big enough to engulf you completely, cocooning you. cozy and snug. you can’t help but melt a little when suguru places his big hand over the towel and smooths it over your cheek, drying off your skin so gently that you feel like crying again.

”are you cold?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. to your immense relief, it sounds nowhere near as scary as before. ”you’re soaked…”

suguru almost seems to be pouting, bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit, eyebrows furrowed softly. still rubbing the raindrops off your skin. he looks awfully troubled, undeniably anxious, and the way he’s caressing your skin feels so earnestly caring. the towel feels warm, like he went the extra mile to heat it up for you.

and, more than anything, the feeling of suguru’s big hands cupping your face is almost heavenly. even though the touch is indirect, you can’t help but bask in his warmth, almost desperate to cling to it after escaping from the harsh cold of the rain. like he could slip away and leave you again if you don’t stay perfectly still, just like this.

it’s soothing. so, so soothing. but it also makes you feel kind of meek.

you sound sheepish when you answer, voice a little hoarse after your grueling walk. throat dry from all the crying. ”nah, ’m fine…”

the words are tiny, fragile like pieces of glass, and they only make suguru’s brows furrow further, pout turning into a soft frown as he gazes down at you.

(he hates how small you look. like you’re curling in on yourself.)

as soon as you left the apartment, a wave of regret washed over him. it was expected, obviously, because that’s what always happens after the two of you argue — which is almost never, which only makes the cut in his heart run deeper. 

he felt frustrated. and tired, so tired. but when he saw your troubled expression, the way your eyes watered slightly before you rushed out…

he could only feel guilty.

and that sensation only deepened as he sat on the couch and spiraled, over the course of forty long minutes, playing the interaction back inside his head. over and over, thinking about your words, his words, some of which he desperately wishes he could take back. 

and when it started raining? suguru could only feel regret, hot and ugly, dragging him into his own thoughts. could only drown in his worries, look out the window anxiously. thinking of you, his sweet baby, stuck under the onslaught of dark clouds and lightning strikes and heavy rain.

(you didn’t bring an umbrella.)

suguru waited. that was all he could do. 

he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel so useless. fighting with himself, the part of him that wanted to give you the space you needed clashing with the part that yearned to run after you — scoop you up and apologize, hold you tight and protect you from the rainfall. you weren’t answering his calls, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to make you feel even worse. afraid to scare you off for good.

so he could only sit there and worry, sit there and wait, wallow in his own shame until he heard the faintest sound of the front door unlocking. followed by the sound of it creaking open, slowly — and that was all he needed. 

and there you were. standing by the entrance, entirely soaked, tank top sticking to your skin and that flimsy hoodie hanging off your arms, cheeks a little red from the cold and strands of hair sticking to your skin.

like a tiny kitten left out in the rain.

it made him feel so painfully anxious. his heart aching so deeply, so viscerally, while all he could think about was smothering you in affection. taking care of you, like he always wants to do, needs to do to stay sane. so suguru left, to go grab something to dry you off with —

and now he’s here. in front of you, smothering you with the towel rather than his love, fretting over you like an overprotective mother. 

suguru yearns to soothe you. to take care of you. always, always, always, his hands on your skin and lidded amber eyes staring deeply into yours. offering himself like a shelter to a stray dog, hoping so tenderly that you’ll take the bait.

(he just wants you to feel safe with him again.)

so he stumbles for something, anything to say, afraid of overstepping or making you uncomfortable. you did just argue, and suguru was anything but patient with you. usually he would be; he’d make sure to be. but with work piling up, and exhaustion clinging to every pore of his skin…

he failed at maintaining his composure.

he needs to make it up to you. despite everything — even though he feels a little awkward, a little restless, still drowning a little in shame — he just wants to tend to you. that, and nothing more.

”hang on,” he exhales, stepping back and letting go of the towel. ”i’ll go draw you a bath…”

”ah — no need,” you smile, a little forced, swiftly reassuring him. he can tell you don’t really know how to act after everything that happened; still walking on eggshells. ”i’ll just take a quick shower.”

suguru wants to protest, wants to coax you into taking a proper bath, into letting your cold skin and aching bones relax completely —

but he can only hum, a little unsure. a little sad. 

”… okay. got it.”

perplexed, he tries his hand at another tactic. still so desperate to take care of you in whatever way you’ll allow, like always, but he thinks it’s worse now. even more desperate, after the fight you had, after seeing your frail, shivering self. resisting the urge to scoop you up and coddle you is a struggle.

”i can make you tea?” he tries, inwardly wincing at the way the words spill from his lips; uncertain, awkward. what a mess.

but you smile, slightly more genuinely this time, a soft little thing. it soothes some of the anxiety rotting through his ribs.

”tea would be great, thank you.”

you brush past him, warm towel still hanging off your shoulders. ”i’ll just take a shower in the meantime,” you murmur, and suguru can do nothing but nod, watching you go. 

he swallows thickly.

(that’s that, then.)

tea. right. what kind of tea? something warm, and soothing, and good for your throat. chamomile? peppermint? he’ll add a spoon of honey, just the way you like.

suguru’s mind spins in circles while his feet take him to the kitchen, hands swiftly rummaging through cabinets and getting the electric kettle ready. placing teacups and a teapot on the table, cute little floral designs he couldn’t help but fill your kitchen with. pouring hot peppermint tea into the pot, a strong scent drifting through the kitchen, drowning his senses in bliss.

caught up in his own head, losing track of time, suguru fails to notice you walking from the bathroom — stopping by the threshold of the kitchen, hesitant to make your presence known. a few silent moments pass. with a tiny inhale, mint invading your senses, you take a step forward. calm and sleepy, skin still pleasantly hot from the warm shower, hair still a little damp.

only then does suguru notice you, his gaze drifting to your figure as if instinctively drawn to it.

you’re clad in some comfortable sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie — his hoodie, the one with the unreasonably soft texture, the one you tend to gravitate towards — the one he likes to see you in the most, because you always look so thoroughly comfy in it. almost drowning in the fabric. 

seeing you all warm and cozy, in his clothing no less, sends a tremor of pure warmth running through suguru’s chest. sprouting in his heart and spreading throughout his entire body. he can’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so fondly he’s almost sure you notice it.

”i made peppermint,” he says, a little breathless, already pouring boiling tea into two cups on the table. ”that okay?”

”yeah,” you answer, instantaneous. stifling a yawn. you’d have been fine with anything, really.

the shower worked wonders for your muddled mind; chasing away the shivers down your spine, that unpleasant chill to your skin. most importantly, it gave you a moment to simply relax, to bask in the peace and quiet. feel the hot water surround you, melt your bones like softened clay. you feel a little better, now. still anxious, more than a little sleepy, but better. and right now, that’s all you need. 

with a groggy kind of pep in your step, you stumble over to the kitchen table, plopping down on the chair across from where suguru is sitting. trying to get comfortable, knees pressed against your chest, muttering a soft thank you while gingerly touching the rim of the cup.

(suguru frowns, just barely, at the sight. usually you’d sit right next to him. but now you’re in front of him, so very far — as if you’re strangers.

it breaks his heart, a little bit.)

a soft hum leaves your lips when you take a sip of the tea — all warm and comforting and minty on your tongue, a vague taste of something sweet. it’s relaxing, more than anything, and it makes you feel a little more okay with everything.

suguru only watches you, drinking absentmindedly from his own cup. not really tasting anything.

finally, he opts to clear his throat — and your attention falls on him instantly.

”hey,” he starts, ready to address the elephant in the room. his voice is gentle, but decisive, firm somehow. ”about before…”

your body tenses, ever so slightly, fingers uncurling around the handle of the teacup. there’s a kind of shift in the air around you, in suguru’s tone of voice — and you were expecting it, waiting for it anxiously, but that doesn’t make it any less harrowing.

here it comes, your mind seems to sing. here comes the moment everything shatters again.

with as much strength as you can muster, you smile. a little sheepish, just a tad forced, refusing to meet his eyes from across the table. staring into the murky green of your cup and hoping in vain that you can somehow escape this discomfort. 

(you just want to rest. you just want to not have to think about anything.)

”it’s fine, suguru,” you cut him off. softly, but there’s a certain tilt to your voice that strikes him as rather cold. ”we can just drop it.”

the decision in his eyes doesn’t waver. you look meek, awfully troubled, and he hates to force you into another discussion when you’re undoubtedly tired — but suguru’s mind is set. he’s been evasive enough, today.

”no. i want to talk about it properly.”

at that, you seem to deflate a little. suguru is nothing if not stubborn, a quality that always manages to coexist with his gentleness, his desire to be a good partner for you. you can tell he won’t allow you to wriggle away, now that you’re both finally calm. he’s not doing it to exhaust you, not doing it to gain some sort of satisfaction out of ”winning” the argument — he’s doing it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. even if it makes you both a little uncomfortable.

communication is important, immensely so. suguru knows it very well.

and you do, too.

so all you do is curl into yourself, shifting in your seat, allowing him to speak his mind and sipping quietly on your tea. biting back a disgruntled huff, gaze lingering on the tablecloth, little calico cats etched into the fabric. he wanted one with yellow stripes, but still bought this one just for you. just like the ugly matching couple mugs you forced him into buying, the green colour of your kitchen wallpaper. he always places you before himself.

(all you wanted was to change that. just for a night, if nothing else. and he got mad at you for it.)

suguru sighs. it sounds fatigued, not frustrated or disappointed. he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but follow the movement, the soft silky strands and the way he smooths them over. practiced, familiar, absentminded. you could watch him do it forever.

”i had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” he begins, recalling the mental gymnastics he went through while you were away. just sitting on the couch and running himself ragged, trying to be impartial, trying to see your point of view without letting his own bias get in the way.

you sink a little further into the chair, eyes downcast. inhaling the scent of peppermint, trying to prepare yourself for what he might say, the ways this could all go wrong.

”and i realized that you were right.”

…

you blink. once, then twice.

hesitantly, you raise your head, searching for suguru’s gaze. he isn’t looking at you, staring out at the rainfall through the window as if in deep thought. his gaze shifts to meet yours, and something soft flickers through his golden eyes.

he looks troubled, though. trying to find the right words, mind clouded by guilt. chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.

it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the words in his mind, just to make sure he gets them across as smoothly as possible. he’s had more than enough time to verbalize his feelings, to think about what he wants to say to you. it was all he could do while he waited. 

so his voice is earnest, when he continues, sincerely apologetic and thought out.

”i’m always telling you not to overwork yourself. and here i am, doing the same thing…” another sigh. ”you were just worried. i shouldn’t have lashed out — you didn’t deserve that.”

suguru searches for your gaze, and manages to find it. you falter a little under the weight of his eyes, but they’re warm, remorseful. a setting sun.

”i’m sorry.”

a moment of silence passes. then two. three, five. you look down at your cup, the purple hyacinths etched into the porcelain. crumbling under his gaze, at the sound of his genuine apology. 

and suddenly, you feel silly — silly for being so scared, for thinking suguru might still be angry with you. for thinking he wouldn’t spend as much time as needed to properly think about your words, your feelings, even if he might not have been ready to do so when he first heard them.

suguru can be stubborn, if he’s convinced that he’s in the right. but he always, always seeks you out eventually, always makes sure to genuinely look at things from your perspective. 

and, really, it means everything. it means enough to wash away all your leftover irritation, from having him brush you off when you know you didn’t do anything wrong. all the leftover sadness from being pushed away, from not being allowed to take care of him the way he always does for you.

suguru isn’t perfect, but he tries harder than anyone you know. tries his very best to be as close to perfect as he can possibly get — for you, for the both of you. he’s considerate enough, mature enough to take the time he needs to properly communicate. that’s how much he loves you. 

and yes, doing so makes you a little uncomfortable. but when faced with something like that, someone so kind, who loves you like the rain loves the ground — how could you ever bear not to do the same?

”… it’s fine,” you start, softly. ”maybe i overreacted a bit. ’s just —” a gulp. you’re trying your best to verbalize your feelings, the way suguru just did, the way he always does.

and he waits, patiently. for as long as you need. looking at you from across the table softly, already immensely relieved at the lack of tension in the air.

”i don’t like seeing you so tired. i know that your work is important, and i support you, but…” your voice goes quiet, as you trail off, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. ”you know.”

and suguru does. he does understand, he always will. so he hums.

”i know,” he murmurs, softly. ”it wasn’t an overreaction. i just didn’t realize it myself. got too caught up in everything,” a sharp exhale leaves his lips. ”it’s been… a long week. i’m not using that as an excuse, though.”

you listen attentively, eyes softening at his words. you can tell that he means it, that you finally got your message across. all you wanted was for him to take a break, to take care of himself.

to let you take care of him.

suguru continues. he makes it a point to look into your eyes as he speaks — a little intimidating, especially in a situation like this — but you know it reassures him, that it lets him know you really understand what he’s trying to say. 

so you hold his gaze, as steady as you can, glancing down at his collarbone when it becomes just a little too much.

”i’m grateful that i have you,” he says, voice dripping with softness, gazing at you with a fondness that has you crumbling all over again. ”and that you care enough to set me straight when i need it.”

and suguru means it. he means it more than anything else. not once has he ever stopped appreciating you, all the things you do for him; always so sweet and caring, even when it’s subtle. this was no exception. you’re always worried, always looking out for him. he feels awful for getting so defensive. for pushing you away, when you were trying so earnestly to reach him.

but he’ll make up for all of that, starting now.

”i mean it. i appreciate you so much, you have no idea — i’m so sorry if i made you think otherwise.” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in remorse. ”i really, really am.”

(and when he looks at you like that, when he speaks so very gently —

how could you ever bear not to forgive him?)

you shift in your seat again. gazing down, chewing at your bottom lip. his honesty makes you falter, makes it hard for you not to do the same; even if your voice ends up sounding awfully tiny and awfully close to breaking apart. 

”… i was just worried,” you mumble, meekly, shooing away any tears you have left with rapid blinks. 

”i know,” suguru soothes. the smile on his face is genuine, comforting, honey and peppermint and warmth. ”i was being immature. you were right — i’ve been burning myself out.”

you don’t say anything. only letting his words console you, feeling yourself relax at the sound of him opening up a little. just enough to make everything all better again.

”i was thinking of taking tomorrow off,” he continues, searching for your timid gaze and smiling gently once he finds it. ”what do you say?”

you brighten a little, so obvious in the way you sit up straighter, the way something soft and hopeful blossoms in the scope of your iris. the sight coaxes suguru’s patient smile into widening a smidge, his eyes crinkling at your barely contained excitement.

”that’d be nice…” you murmur, averting your gaze once more. but suguru can tell you like the sound of that, that it’s exactly what would finally put your anxious mind at ease.

a smile, bright and fond. suguru opens his arms. 

”then i will.”

for a moment, you simply stare. at him, his outstretched limbs — that soft smile, as he waits for you to get the hint. and you blink. 

oh. 

you look down at your lap. a little sheepish, almost shy. it takes you another moment to raise your head, again, only to see another gentle flicker in suguru’s eyes — and then you finally get up from your seat.

it feels a little strange. a little awkward, as if some of your bones still can’t help but tread on eggshells, afraid of making him upset again. but it’s suguru, and he loves you, and his arms are waiting patiently to hold you.

and you want that more than anything. 

so you fall into his arms, softly, curling up in his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. suguru has one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles into your spine to make you relax.

it works wonders. despite your initial hesitance, you melt into the embrace without putting up a fuss — happy to be in his arms again, to feel the anxiety dissipate when you realize that everything’s finally alright.

and suguru is just as happy, just as content. breathing out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. he strokes your hair lovingly, and you nuzzle into him a little more; making his lips quirk up, eyes filling with adoration. finally, he can relax. having you in his arms feels so soothing. and you’re so sweet, curling into him, seeking comfort and warmth that he’s more than happy to provide.

how long has it been since he had a chance to hold you like this? he made sure to be affectionate whenever he could, before leaving for work and after coming back — but in the midst of all the paperwork and stress…

suguru sighs, a little sadder this time, watching you bask in the attention he had been robbing you of this whole time. without even realizing it.

”and i’m sorry for neglecting you, too,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. muffled by your hair as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.

that certainly gets your attention.

”neglecting me?” you sputter, eyes suddenly wide open and lips parted in disbelief. flustered, heat rushing to your neck and ears. ”wha — what am i, some high-maintenance puppy? you didn’t neglect me.”

suguru only chuckles, biting back a soft coo that he knows would only fluster you more. instead, he pulls away a little, just to look at you, and pecks your forehead softly.

”well, i’m sorry for not being around much, then. i’ll make it up to you. okay?”

hiding away in his collarbone, again, you mutter a soft okay that has suguru’s heart squeezing in his chest. he cradles you close, engulfs you in his embrace, and hopes you can feel his love through the action. hopes you can feel it in the way his arms fit around you like they were always meant to be right there.

and you do feel his love. feel it smooth away the leftover turmoil in your brain, caress your skin softly. it’s soothing, and comforting, and you feel so incredibly safe. here, in suguru’s embrace, with the sound of rain hitting the window and the scent of peppermint wafting through the kitchen — it’d be impossible not to relax.

before you know it, your eyelids have fluttered shut, breathing softening out and heartbeat slowing down. a peaceful rhythm, carrying you away. suguru notices it before you do.

”you sleeping, baby?”

you jolt a little in his arms — murmuring something unintelligible into his neck, and he only chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm.

”c’mon. let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

suguru smooths a hand down your back, arms tightening around you before he scoops you up and gets up from his seat. ”there we go,” he hums, helping you hike your legs around his waist. ”you can sleep, angel. i’ve got you.”

your arms tighten around him, and you inhale his scent; grounding and comforting, raindrops and roses. tomorrow you can bask in it properly, can take care of him properly. you’ll coddle him all day.

but for now, you need to get some rest.

allowing your senses to dull away, clinging to suguru like a makeshift pillow, you absently listen to the storm still raging on outside. faraway, cold and harsh, but comforting when you’re in his steady grasp.

a yawn escapes your honey-soothed throat.

you don’t miss the i love you murmured into your ear, accompanying you into dreamland as your eyes flutter shut.

fujimaki has a type and i gotta respect the hustle

I need y'all bitches to start making more Mark Grayson fanfics right tf now

I beg of u PLZ🙏

sisters

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

TW: minor mentions of violence/parental abuse!! also this is suggestive pls read at your own discretion!!

--

“so did i grow another head or are you meeting up with sammy later?” 

“what? how did you even know about that?” 

sukuna lazily leans against you, still half asleep, as he breathes into your neck, a string of unintelligible noises coming out of his throat. you can tell that it’s still too early for him – and that your racket or your absence must have woken him up. you reach up, running one of your hands through his hair, before pressing a halfhearted kiss to his cheek and returning to your typing. 

“google calendar.” sukuna responds. 

you smile. 

“i didn’t realize you actually looked at that.” 

sukuna reaches forward, slamming the screen of your computer down, as you roll your eyes and lean against him. 

“sukuna.” 

“you can study in bed, y’know.” he responds. 

“that’ll distract you, with the typing and the shuffling of papers and all that.” 

“well, it’s already fucking distracting when i wake up and you’re not next to me, so…same shit.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“stop being dramatic. i could easily spend the weekend at my own place and you’d sleep just fine.” you respond. 

“no, i wouldn’t. you basically live here now, i’d obviously notice if you just disappeared.” he deadpans. 

you pause, clutching your pencil in your hand, before spinning it around in your palm. you can feel sukuna lean off of you, your silence clueing him in, as he now intently stares at you with his brown eyes, drowning in irritation. he’s clearly awake now. 

“what are you thinking about?” he asks. 

“nothing.” 

“well, it’s certainly not nothing. and i’m almost positive it’s something annoying because you’re not telling me.” he responds, poking into your cheek. 

you sigh. 

“should i be paying rent? because…i really am here all the time…s’kind of unfair if you’re the one paying for the place when i stole all of your closet space and your bed and –” 

“you’re making it sound like you’re such a nuisance to me. contrary to your beliefs, i actually love that you’re using my closet and that you take my jackets sometimes. and in my opinion, the only place you should be is in my bed anyway, so.” 

sukuna can tell that you’re not really buying it. 

“can you let me cover our groceries? i literally eat all of your food too. and –” 

“it’s our food. i made it for you.” he complains. 

“i’m probably emptying out your bank account and you’re just letting me. you should just –” 

sukuna reaches for your legs, before sliding you sideways on the chair so that you’re facing him. and he takes his residence in between your legs, cupping his hands around your face, and angling your chin up so that you’re looking at him. 

“you’re about to graduate. how about…you start splitting rent with me when you aren’t living in your dorm and you’re officially living with me? it doesn’t make sense to pay for two places right now.” 

you bite down on the softness of your cheek. 

“are you…asking me to move in with you?”

“you already live here.” he deadpans. 

“no. but then we’d have to put me on the lease. i’d-i’d actually live here live here.” 

“well, were you really thinking about moving back home? you would hate that.” 

“i mean no. but i was going to look for an apartment and roommates and –” 

“i have an apartment right here. i would be a great roommate – i feed you and i kiss you when you’re sad, which seems like a win win to me. but if it feels too fast for you to move in with me in a few months, that’s okay with me. i will help you apartment hunt if it comes to it.” 

you frown. 

“do you think people will judge us for moving in together so fast? i mean, by the time i graduate, it’ll only have been like…like half a year? and we still haven’t –” 

“do you think it’s weird?” 

“i mean, no but –” 

“what other people say doesn’t matter. if you want to live here when june comes around, that’s really no one else’s business. i’m not going to murder you, i won’t be a bad roommate, and that’s kind of all that matters.” 

you smile. 

“do you want to live with me?” 

“you. already. live. here.” he responds. 

“no, but like. joint lease. like actually living here. you know you won’t be able to break up with me for like two years because we’ll be stuck here, right?”

“well, i was obviously not planning on breaking up with you, so that won’t be a problem, will it?” 

you pause. 

“i guess not.” 

sukuna gives you a satisfied smile, before dropping his hand from your face to the chain hanging around your neck. you can’t help but feel your cheeks warm as he admires the little charms on the necklace he gave you, running his fingers over them. 

“what?” you ask. 

“you’re still wearing it.” 

“are you crazy? i have to wear this forever now. i’m never going to take it off.” 

“okay, but…i do take mine to get cleaned every few months so you will eventually have to take it off.” 

you roll your eyes, as you bring one of your hands up to his, and squeeze. 

“so…i’m taking your big avoidance of the question as a confirmation that you really are seeing sammy later?” 

you sigh. 

“yeah. i’ve been trying to make plans with her for two weeks and she was finally able to pencil me in.” 

sukuna pulls up the chair next to you, sitting on it backwards, as he leans his chin against the back of the chair. he’s playing with the rings on your fingers, twisting them back and forth, as he listens. 

“okay, but why? do i have to roam around in the mall at the same time as you guys just to save you in case she’s a bitch?” 

“don’t call her a bitch, sukuna.” you groan. 

sukuna’s eyes widen, as he jokingly presses his hands to your face and starts shaking your head. 

“who are you and what did you do to my girlfriend?” 

you swat his hands off, as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“stop it! i’m just…trying to be nicer to her. you should be too, she’s still my sister.” 

“wow. what brought on this sudden need to reconcile with the devil?” 

“sukuna!” 

“okay, okay, i’m done.” 

you pause, leaning your cheek against the cold tile of the kitchen island. it bites into your skin, the shrill cold making the hairs on the ends of your arm stand up. 

“you know how we hate that yuuji is so…so one track minded when it comes to you and me? how he kind of pushes his own feelings into what he thinks about us and that…that a lot of them are really immature things from when you guys were kids?” 

“yeah.” 

“it would be hypocritical of me to hate yuuji for doing that when i do the same thing to my own sister.” 

sukuna raises his eyebrows. 

“do you?” 

“i think so. i’m just…i don’t know. i feel like dating you has made me more self aware.” 

“well, obviously. i’m the epitome of emotional intelligence.” 

“shut up! i was just saying because…well, i know why yuuji harbors so much dislike for you now that you’re dating me.”  

sukuna pauses, leaning forward like he’ll almost miss it if he isn’t close enough to hear it. 

“he thought it was really careless when you left for europe, that you just thought about yourself and no one else. he thought it was really unfair because he still needed you to be there for him and you weren’t anymore.” 

sukuna can feel the guilt pooling in his chest. 

“but now that i’m dating you…and i know why you left, i feel like he’s really immature. i know that yuuji needed you but you were still a kid too. it wasn’t your responsibility to take care of him and he can’t get mad at you for that. you were your own person and you picked what was right for you.” 

sukuna reaches forward and cups one of your cheeks. you lean into the warmth of his hand, before pressing a kiss to his palm. 

“that’s why i hated sammy. that she would try to be fake and act like she was the best, when i knew she was getting drunk every weekend in highschool. i…i was always embarrassed because really, i just wanted her to take care of me the way you took care of yuuji. but that wasn’t her job and really, she still did that when it really mattered, anyways.” 

“what do you mean?” 

“that time i told you about, where i got caught in that car with mazzy and got in trouble. they called my mom, but…but sammy was the one who picked up. she was the one who came and got me and i had to tell her everything. i was expecting for her to tell me what everyone kind of did at that time, that he was a bad guy so what did i expect from being with him?” 

“but?” 

“but she just took me home and told me to take a shower. made me a really nice dinner. it meant a lot to me at the time, i-i basically started sobbing when she handed me my food because it just felt so nice to be around someone who just wanted to take care of me. she never even asked me twice about it, just…just kind of did what i needed.”  

sukuna presses a kiss to the top of your knuckles. 

“we’re older now. i want us to be better and just…be friends at least? i don’t know, i just think i’ve been really unfair to her when i’ve never even stopped to ask her if she needed anything from me.” 

“well, you can start by asking her today.” sukuna offers. 

you smile. 

“yeah. yeah, i can.” 

sukuna leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“so what i’m hearing is…i’m the best, most self aware boyfriend ever who –” 

“oh, calm down, narcissus. just when i think your ego can’t get bigger you go and start staying stuff like that.” 

--

you wait for sammy across from the little donut shop at the mall. you get a set of two donuts – a maple bar for her and a sugar one for you – as you swing your legs over the bench and rehearse your little script in your head. 

it felt a little evil given the conversation you had with sukuna earlier in the day, but you had a favor you desperately needed to ask her. 

and surely enough, she comes right on time, hands shoved in her pockets as she gives you a halfhearted smile. you jump up, unsure if you should hug her or shake hands and then there’s too much of a pause when you don’t say anything. 

“are you okay?” she asks.

“hm? yeah! yeah. how are you? also, i got you a donut. and it’s maple, your favorite! and –” 

you pause – too much. but she fills the silence. 

“you’re rambling.” she states, as she plops down on the bench. 

she shoots you a grateful smile as she picks up the donut from the box, perfectly wrapped in the napkin, and takes a bite out of it. you mimic her motions, maybe scarfing down yours faster than you should have, from the nervousness. 

she hates you. 

“jesus. is this the first time you ate today? do i have to slap sukuna for not feeding my little sister properly?” 

sammy reaches forward, an annoyed look on her face, as she wipes away the sugar around the edges of your mouth – and you shoot her a grateful smile, that she halfheartedly acknowledges, as you lean back on the bench. 

“how’d you know about sukuna?” 

sammy rolls her eyes. 

“kisa. she was going on and on about how the ryomen sukuna is dating sammy’s little sister. half of the town knows by now, including the moms, who are planning to invite you to some big dinner where they start talking about your wedding.” 

“huh? my what?” 

“you should thank me, bitch. they were actually talking about your grandchildren and i told them that they need to tone it back fifty notches or you both won’t ever talk to them again.” 

“well, sukuna definitely won’t if they say that.” 

“tell me about it.” she responds. 

you shoot her a grateful smile, heart warm that she had thought to advocate for you in the slightest, as you prep yourself to say your entire spiel. 

“i asked you a question. is he good to you?” sammy asks. 

“what?” 

“sukuna. is he good to you or do i have to mutilate him?” 

you smile and she returns it back, leaning back in her chair and hiking her legs to her chest. 

“really good. i really love him.” you respond. 

sammy smiles. 

“i know.” 

“what do you mean you know?” 

“first and foremost, that poor kid has been so hopelessly wet in his pants for you since he was like a kid. do you remember that one birthday where he got you a bike that he built from scratch? second, i did hear him call you a pretty girl that one dinner he came to right before you started chewing him out.” 

you cringe. 

“oh god. we’re not actually like that – i was being really stupid that day. i just…” 

“no, it was really funny. he came back looking like a kicked dog when mom asked him to leave.” 

you smile. 

“i bet.” 

you pause. you had to be honest. 

“we actually don’t fight that much, that was just one of the rare times. i just got kind of jealous. of you. when the moms were suggesting that you date him and you were buying into it. i thought he was actually going to do it and i just…got irritated and yelled at him. and trust me, i was even worse when we got home before i calmed down, so…” 

sammy scoffs. 

“i don’t want to date your boyfriend.” 

“i know! it…it was my problem. i clearly have issues with insecurities, especially when it comes to you because of how the moms were sometimes, and i know that it’s my fault.” 

sammy raises her eyes.

“what?” 

“well, i don’t know. i mean, i feel like i’ve had big problems with what people have thought of me since i was a kid. but i always felt like they liked you better, and that because they liked you they couldn’t like me, and sometimes it made me resent you. and it was unfair, because, because…that’s not really your fault.” 

sammy sighs, before demolishing her donut by splitting it in half. 

“well, that’s not entirely true.” 

“hm?” 

“that’s not true. sometimes…i did do it on purpose. sometimes, i got a kick out of the fact that for once that…someone liked me instead of you.” 

“you’re kidding.” you deadpan. 

“i’m really not though. because you tend to forget, that i didn’t have friends like you did when you were a kid. you met yuuji the first day we moved into that house. sukuna basically followed you around after that. the three of you were friends and…and i was never included. so if the parents were the ones who liked to be around me, then…then that’s where i was going to be.” 

you pause.

the worst part of it was that sammy was always your dad’s favorite. and he’s the one who picked up and left. 

“you forget that your best friend before yuuji was me, y/n. i’m sorry that i was a bitch to you and maybe made some of your insecurities worse…but you did it to me first. i wasn’t exactly mature at that age so i just…that’s just what i did.” 

you lean back, unable to stop thinking about it now. that when you and yuuji wanted to go to the park, sukuna was always the one who took you guys – and that sammy was the one who stayed behind. how you really can’t remember a time where it was ever the four of you, but hundreds of times that sukuna had followed behind you and yuuji under the guise of taking care of you. 

and then you feel horrible. because every time you got drunk in highschool, yuuji was always there covering for you, making sure that you made it home safe with water and aspirin in your system, when you almost always found sammy half passed out on the porch before you had to drag her back into the house before your mom noticed. 

that maybe, sammy knew exactly how to take care of you that night she had to pick you up, because it was exactly what she had been longing for someone to do for her. 

“i’m a really shitty sister, aren’t i?” you ask.  

“yeah. but i am too, so…can’t really blame yourself there.” 

“are you? because…because i literally abandoned you.” 

“and i took it out on you and your friends after the fact so, relax. we’re both shitty people, it’s not a big deal.” 

you pause. you suppose that she’s right. 

“i was going to ask something really cheesy but i know you’d get really annoyed.” you state. 

sammy curls her nose up in disgust. 

“like what?” 

“well, i was going to ask if we were going to be friends now? and –” 

“you exercised the correct judgment. that’s disgusting, y/n.” 

but then sammy brings her hand up and rests it against the top of your head, before brushing the stray hairs around your face to the backs of your ears. and you smile, feeling so oddly taken care of that it makes your heart warm. 

“god. he really is good for you, isn’t he?” 

“who?”

“pablo picasso. obviously, sukuna.” sammy responds, tone bitingly sarcastic. 

“why do you say that?” 

“dunno. we’re hanging out right now. talking about our feelings. if he makes you realize that you’re jealous of me and indirectly makes us talk about our…whatever…then he must be good for you. that and the fact that he’s been obsessed with you since forever so, he must be on top of the world.” 

you smile. 

“i don’t know. i kind of thought that some part of me was…ruined after what happened back then. like i came with this big thing that someone else would have to come to terms with if they were going to be with me.” 

sammy glares at you, but you can tell that it’s laced with concern. that she thinks you’re being stupid. 

“what?” 

“i just mean. i always knew i’d have problems from my past relationship in my current one. and that maybe someone wouldn’t love me enough to be patient, because i would struggle so much.” 

sammy sighs. 

“but?” 

“but, he’s so patient. sammy, sometimes i don’t even know what i did to deserve him. he’s…he does things just because he knows they’ll make me happy, even if he hates them, and…and he’s always so understanding about everything. he never pushes, he’s always so sweet and just –” 

“it’s what you deserve.” 

“what?” 

“it’s what you should have had the first time.” sammy states. 

you pause.

“yeah. but it almost makes me more grateful for him now. it’s almost like…i had to know the bad to really appreciate the good? and it makes it sweeter? i don’t know, i obviously wouldn’t have wanted it to happen if i had the choice, but i’m just really…really grateful for him.” you respond. 

“i’m sure that means the world to him.” 

“what do you mean?” 

sammy nearly cringes. 

“well, you know how his dad was. i’m sure it makes his entire life that someone actually appreciates him.” 

you nod. 

“i was going to call him after this actually. tell him that if he ever hurts my little sister, who is my friend now, i’m going to cut his dick off. but…same for you. sometimes i forget how much he suffered at the hands of his dad when he was little. he deserves good just as much as you do.” 

you feel a shiver down your spine. on a topic you had yet to broach with sukuna. on the times that he’d fight so bad with his dad that he’d spend the night at your house. and the rare occasions where his dad would raise his hands on sukuna and when you had to watch your mom ice his skin from the door of the kitchen. 

“you’ll cut my dick off?” you murmur. 

sammy snorts. 

“shut up. you know what i meant.” 

sammy pushes up off the bench, as she gestures for you to join her with her head. 

“so what did you need my help with?” sammy asks. 

“huh? how did you know?” 

“you’re annoying. you’re going to be nice to me but you’re also going to ask for a favor.” sammy states. 

“okay, i’m sorry! but i really can’t ask anyone else, all my friends are all…weird about me and sukuna dating so i can’t just be like oh…oh come buy lingerie with me because i have no idea how any of it works.” 

sammy raises her eyebrows, fighting the urge to laugh, as you shove her. 

“shut up. you’re such a bitch.” 

“you guys already hit a short fuse that you need to spice things up? he’s such a dog.” 

“what? no, no we haven’t even done it yet.” 

“what?” 

“well, we had a whole talk. and now that we’ve waited for so long, i want it to be special. for me and him, and…and i want to feel good, okay? not that i think it’ll make me feel good but i just mean it would be nice to do something like that.” 

sammy links her arm in with yours, turning on your heel towards the direction of the store, as she keeps laughing. you can feel the embarrassment in your cheeks, irritated, as you elbow her in the side one again. 

“stop it!” 

“i’m sorry! that’s actually like really cute and fucking romantic. but i can’t just stop laughing at you saying you don’t know how lingerie works.” 

“it looks so complicated online. just so many…straps and stuff.” 

“okay, okay, relax. my girlfriend loves this type of shit, so i’m basically an expert.” 

you try to hide your shock – at sammy saying she has a girlfriend – as she drags you into the store and basically shoves you into a dressing room. 

and surely enough, you leave the mall with a light pink set that she insisted on buying for you and a box of condoms that you swiped on your way out from the convenience store across the street. 

--

sukuna comes home to dim lights and the faint smell of lavender. and shockingly enough, you serving dinner, perfectly plating and garnishing it with the little minced greens. he quickly decides that it’s his favorite sight – your eyebrows scrunched in concentration, drowning in one of his old t-shirts. 

you feel sukuna’s arms wrap around your waist, as he sags nearly his entire weight around your back, and sighs heavily into your shoulder. 

“hi doll face. what’s the occasion?” he murmurs. 

you smile. 

“does there need to be an occasion for me to do something nice for you?” 

“yes. you’re cooking dinner, which is haunting, baby.” 

“fine. you can starve then.” 

sukuna laughs, before pressing lazy kisses into your neck, and loosening the buttons around his collar. 

and throughout the course of the dinner, he can tell that you’re nervous. it would be a little off putting a few months ago, but he knows better by now – that you’re clearly going to ask him something important or say something big to him. and naturally, with how impatient he was, he was going to weasel it out of you. 

“how was sammy?” sukuna asks. 

you smile. 

“good. she said she will cut your dick off if you hurt my feelings.” 

sukuna snorts. 

“i expected as much. did you give any thought to the apartment?” 

“yeah. it makes sense and…and i really don’t care.” 

you reach forward, pressing your hand into the warmth of his cheek, and feel your heart flutter at the smile he gives you back. you can feel the nervous anticipation pooling under your skin, entire body warm at the thought of him sitting across from you. 

“i really love you, you know that?” you whisper. 

sukuna narrows his eyes at you, the whisper of a smile still on his face. 

“are you sure you’re okay? we can talk about anything that’s bothering you if –” 

“no. no, nothing’s bothering me. really. i just really love you.”

sukuna shakes his head, the lightest pink dusting his cheeks. 

“you silly girl.” he scoffs. 

you smile. 

“i love you more. don’t argue back because you won’t win.” 

you shake your head, before reaching into the lining of your underwear, for the condom that you tucked into your skin. and you place it flat on the table, before looking up at him. 

“wow. you’re serving condom for dessert? at least tell me it’s flavored.” he asks. 

you groan, which earns you him a laugh from him. 

“they come flavored?” 

“yeah, but…but it’s weird so don’t buy those. also, don’t buy condoms. that’s my job.” 

“i don’t know how you initiate these type of things!” 

sukuna laughs, before cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“you’re like a cavewoman. initiating sex by giving me a condom. no foreplay? no kissing?”

“i mean, obviously. but like…we always kind of get close to it. i just wanted you to know that i was ready. and that i…” 

sukuna grins and it’s enough to make your heart drop to your stomach. 

“that you what?” he whispers. 

“you know.” 

sukuna shakes his head, as he reaches for your waist and pulls you off the chair, and starts dragging you towards his room. 

“i don’t know, y/n. you have to tell me, princess.” 

you feel your cheeks burn, as you press your hands to your sides. 

“well…i want you.” 

“is that right?” 

“sukuna.” you whine. 

sukuna locks his hands around your waist, as you lift yours around his neck, nervously crumpling the fabric of his shirt in your hands as you look up at him. 

“i’m done teasing. you just make it so easy, baby.” 

you bite your lip. 

“well, i kind of like it. so you…you don’t have to stop.” 

sukuna smiles, before leaning his forehead against yours. 

“more of that, okay? you tell me what you like, more importantly what you don’t.” sukuna whispers. 

you nod. 

“safe word.” sukuna states. 

“um…worm?” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“and what if i wanted to call you my pretty little worm? then what?” 

“if i take all my clothes off and you even think about calling me a worm, i’m never speaking to you again.” you respond. 

sukuna laughs, before giving you a nod, and leaning forward to close the distance before you. you can tell that he’s moving slow, tiny steps backing you up before you fall back onto the bed, and he’s hovering with his necklace dangling over you. 

and his voice is quiet as he peppers kisses into your cheek and neck, so soft it makes your stomach rumble. 

“just so you know, it does hurt the first time. need you to tell me, don’t feel embarrassed. and i –” 

“i know. i know, i will.” 

sukuna smiles, before hooking his fingers under the fabric of his t-shirt, before he carefully pulls it out from under you. and maybe it’s the sheer embarrassment that you went out of your way to buy lingerie – but you pinch your eyes shut when you catch the realization in his eyes. 

“up.” 

his voices comes out more gravelly than you’ve ever heard it, as you open your eyes, skin burning, as you give him a confused look. 

“sit up, doll. let me look at you.” he whispers, this time more fervent. 

you oblige, sitting up on the edge of the bed, as he kneels onto the ground, hands fixed on your waist, as he looks up at you. you cringe, shrinking your shoulders together, as you look down at him. 

“too much?” you ask. 

sukuna scoffs. 

“are you fucking crazy?” he responds, tone dripping with disbelief. 

sukuna stands up this time, pulling you up with him, as cradles your face with his hands, eyes so sickeningly sweet that it makes you smile. 

“my perfect girl. what did i do to deserve you, huh?” he murmurs. 

“what?” 

“the dinner, the candles. this fucking set you bought. you ruin me, you know that?” 

you shake your head, as he drops his hands, admiring the lace. and he lifts one of his fingers, making the gesture for you to spin, as you oblige, and get a barrage of kisses in response. 

“i’m obsessed, you know that? with this, with you, with your smell.” 

you smile, pulling his face out of the crook of your neck, as you shake your head, and he takes the hint to slow down. you relax into his arms, nervously toying with the buttons on his shirt, as you calm down, trying to ease the nerves, as he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“i’m guessing you…you like it?” 

“like it? i love it. it’s special to me.” he murmurs. 

you look up at him, as he drops his gaze to yours, lovingly running his hands through your hair. 

“really? you don’t think it’s cheesy right?” 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“s’really special. never had someone put in this much effort to make me feel special. i was supposed to be doing all of this for you, y’know? was planning it all out too.” 

“really?” 

“yeah. was gonna get you a whole weekend getaway for your birthday. whole rose petals on the bed and everything.” 

you laugh. 

“what the fuck is so funny? it’s romantic.” he complains. 

“no, no it’s so cute! but you have to let me be the romantic too sometimes. i wanted to do all of this for you…and me too. i mean, i just –” 

“i understand, princess. you’re perfect.” sukuna responds. 

you pause. 

“you can tell me if you don’t want this right now. i know i made us dinner and made it a whole thing with the outfit, but really, you don’t have to oblige just because i –” 

sukuna responds by closing the distance, lips warm against yours as he pushes you back onto the bed, for a second time. 

--

sukuna brings you two advils when you’re soaking in the bath. you can still feel your blood pulsating under your skin, the tiredness seeping into your bones as you lean back against the tile, with the warmth of the water relaxing your muscles. 

and you can’t help but feel your skin burn when he walks back in – unable to stop thinking about how his head was just nestled in between your legs, of all the sweet nothings leaving his mouth, and the gentle way he carried you here after running the bath for you. 

he crouches down by the side of the tub, holding his hand out for you as you oblige. he lifts the cup to your mouth, refusing to let you hold it, as you down the pills.

“i can’t hold my own glass now?” 

“it's aftercare. shut up.” 

he makes the motion to stand up and you reach out, slapping your wet hand around his wrist and pulling. 

“you okay?” 

“yeah. yeah, but can you stay?” 

sukuna nods, as he sits flat on the tile of the bathroom, leaning his head against the side of the bath. he was intent on giving you the time to process and relax, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more to stay there, to possibly never leave your side again, and is pleasantly surprised by your request. 

“bath okay?” he asks. 

“yeah. thanks. for the pills too.” 

“promise it’ll hurt less next time, yeah?” sukuna murmurs. 

you nod, poking at the little indents of his dimples. you can’t help but admire him, the lightest sheen of sweat still stuck to his forehead, at the arch of his back and the tattoos littered over his skin as he lazily places his hand in the water and lets the soap run through his fingers. 

“did you like it?” sukuna asks. 

“are you a nut job?” 

“i mean, what did you like? just so i keep it in mind for next time. s’my job to make you feel good, y’know?” 

you smile, before feeling your chest ache. 

“all of it.” you respond. 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“nope. specifics.” 

you lean back, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair, as you think it over. 

“well, i liked it when you would hold my hand. it made me feel really comfortable…and when you would ask before doing something different.” 

“uh huh. what else?” 

“um…the stuff you called me.” 

sukuna grins. 

“like what?” 

you groan. 

“you know…the usual stuff!” 

“you like it when i called you my good girl, right? when you were taking me so well?” sukuna asks. 

you can tell that he’s trying to irritate you and lightly splash the water at him. 

“sue me! i like to be praised by my boyfriend!” you respond, glaring at him. 

sukuna shakes his head at you, before reaching for your hands and pressing kisses to your knuckles. the spots he marked on your neck are starting to purple up now, as he reaches down for his own that you left. 

“i liked it when you did this.” sukuna responds. 

you smile. 

“i’ll cover it up before you go to work tomorrow.” 

“i liked all the pretty sounds you made. i go insane when you say my name.” 

you shake your head, before splashing the water at him. 

“quit it.” 

“really. i love it all. i love you.” 

you deflate. sammy’s comment from earlier, the harsh memory of him with his eye purpled over on your dining room table, runs through your mind, as you lean forward, and press a kiss to his shut eyelids. 

“yeah, yeah. i love you too.” 

sukuna smiles, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of your knee.

--

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3mee @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @gyros-cum-sock @wishmem l @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

lorenzo zurzolo

Poor Yuuji, having to share his body with that goof

WHY R THERE NO SMAUS SERIES OTHER THAN YOURS BRO😭 LOVE UR SMAU SERIES CAN U RECOMMEND SOME STUFF

i sadly don’t have any sukuna smau recommendations BUT! I ABSOLUTELY RECOMMEND THOSE

@drea-ms blacktop - love the aesthetic and the twitter accs

@wmuffy open chat - AGAIN THE TWEETS OMGG 😭😭

@kodaiki scripted hearts - ABSOLUTELY ONE OF MY FAVORITES 😭😭

@todayisawthewhxlewxrld spellbound - DO I EVEN HAVE TO EXPLAIN MYSELF??

(to all the creators i tagged i hope u didn’t mind being tagged and i’m so sorry if u did but those smaus are GOOD)

the lore

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) sukuna fic

previous part linked here

AN: tw/ mentions of SA and manipulation. please read at your own discretion - protect your own peace!!!

--

“okay, well. it was back when-” you start. 

sukuna reaches forward and pinches the bridge of your nose. 

“are you a nutjob?” 

you frown. 

“huh?” 

sukuna drops his hands from your face, resting them against your waist before he uses them to spin you around. he’s walking behind you, leading your steps to the bedroom and whispering into your neck. 

“c’mon. we’ll wash up for bed and then talk. want you to be comfortable and all that, we’re not gonna have a serious conversation in the fucking kitchen.” sukuna murmurs. 

you smile, letting his attentive hands lead you to the bathroom as he busies himself with doing nearly everything for you. pulling the clips out of your hair and placing the headband just right to pull your hair back, putting toothpaste on both of your brushes, and busying himself with doing your skincare. 

his fingers are soft on your cheeks, the slight tautness of his fingertips massaging the terse of your cheek. 

and you can’t help but stare at him. at the arch of his eyebrows, his eyes attentively focused on the task, and how slowly he’s breathing – in full focus. 

“quit staring. you're freaking me out with your bug eyes.” sukuna murmurs. 

you smile. 

“you’re a big acts of service guy.” you state. 

“eh?” 

“acts of service! it’s a love language.” 

sukuna glares at you. 

“love language? where the fuck do you come up with this shit?” 

you hum in response. 

“it’s a book – you can even take a quiz to see which of the five is yours. it’s how you show love, how you like to receive it. and yours is acts of service.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“is not.” 

“yeah, it is! you always like to do stuff for me. like when you washed all my clothes. took the train back to the apartment for me, making me breakfast. you like to do things for me!” 

“you’re my girlfriend. i’m not a fucking asshole that’s going to let you take the train alone at night.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“but the breakfast.” 

“you know, i’m quite attached to my security deposit. can’t exactly have you burning my apartment down every morning.” sukuna complains.

you frown. 

“still. you like to do things for me. that’s how you show your love.” 

the serum he spreads under your eyes cools your skin, as you instinctively shut your eyes and welcome the tiny sting. 

“what’s yours?” 

“quality time! and words of affirmation.” 

sukuna pauses. 

“sounds about right. you’re always lurking around here, like a troll.” 

you open your eyes and give him a grin. 

“i’ll just be on my way out then.” you state, stepping out of the bathroom. 

but sukuna’s too quick with it, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on top of your head. he tickles at your sides, as you try to squirm out of his touch and smack his arms. 

“when did i tell you to leave, huh?” 

“quit tickling, i’m-” 

“you leave when i tell you to leave.” sukuna states. 

sukuna’s tickling subsides, as you heave and turn around to glare at him. sukuna’s delighted at the pink flush in your cheeks, coupled with the murderous glare you’re giving him. 

“if you had your way, i’d never leave.” you state.

sukuna leans forward, lips brushing against yours and nose ghosting your skin. 

“something wrong with that, huh? is it a crime to want you all to myself?” sukuna whispers. 

it’s enough to send an electrifying jolt down to your core, as you look up at his brown eyes – honeyed over with sweetness. you reach forward and cup his cheek. 

“no.” you whisper. 

sukuna presses a kiss to the top of your head, before locking his hand in with yours and dragging you out. and you both turn around, quickly discarding your dress clothes for your pajamas and settle under the sheets, tangling your legs together, as you rest your head against his bare shoulder – twisting the little charm on his necklace between your fingers. 

sukuna’s hands are in your hair, massaging into your temples as you push your cheek harder into the warmth of his shoulder. 

“sometimes it’s hard to explain how things were when they…build up over time. when i try to explain it…it all seems so trivial but i-” 

“none of this is going to sound trivial to me.” sukuna clarifies. 

you smile. 

“i know. i just mean, it’ll sound…stupid. petty stuff at first but it–” 

“acknowledging that someone treated you so far from what you deserve is never going to be stupid to me.” 

the bluntness is enough to catch you off guard. you give him a meek nod, feeling your cheeks head up as you try to remember the order of events, how things escalated so far, and it’s almost like the damper of it all is back in your brain. 

sometimes remembering feels like an oversaturated filter. that if you recollect your memories, that underlying feeling of the memories casts over your entire head, that it sucks out your energy even though nothing is really happening – even though you’re far from him and from being treated like that again. 

“no one liked me when i was in middle school.” you state. 

sukuna fights the urge to correct you. to tell you all about the camping bag, about how he thought about it for years, even mentioning it at his big age of twenty one to all of his coworkers. but he refrains. 

“maybe some part of me internalized that. but i’d watch as people all around me would…would have these guys interested in them. and sometimes i’d try to copy them. i’d want the same jewelry, like the same movies…try to change my hair so i’d look like them.” 

sukuna presses a kiss to your hair. you get the message and shoot him a halfhearted smile. 

“when i went to highschool…i was really hyper aware of what other people wore. talked about, when it came to guys. and sometimes it would really frustrate me – how stupid, how fucking petty people would be in relationships.” you start. 

“i would have killed to be in their position, sukuna. that if i got to love someone, if…if i could get someone to like me back, i would have done it so right. i’d buy them gifts, i’d tell them i love them, i would never talk to other guys because they were all i wanted.” you finish. 

how adamant you were being about sucking his dick an hour ago suddenly makes plain, clear sense to sukuna – confirming his hunch entirely. that you’d do anything to make him happy, and while it’s a noble quality, a part of him knows where this is going – and the fact that someone took advantage of it, such a deep earnestness to love, to please, fills him with an insurmountable amount of disgust. 

“when i was in my sophomore year of highschool, i had a crush on this guy named parker.” you state. 

“with your weird inappropriate english teacher, i remember.” 

you smile. 

“yeah. i feel like it was one of those…those cosmic connection type things. where you see someone and you just know you like them. he was doing role on the first day and…and i don’t know what it is but i just found myself being drawn to him. i couldn’t help but stare – at how he smiled at his friends, waved at other people in the class.” 

you cringe. 

“fuck. i’m sorry. i shouldn’t be talking about other guys like that when–” 

sukuna shakes his head, dismissively. 

“i want to know the whole story. if this is a part of it, if this is what’s truthful for you, then that’s okay. granted, i already have a leg up on this parker idiot – you’re in my bed, tangled up in my arms right now. not his.” 

you smile. 

“you jealous?” 

“of some pipsqueak little fifteen year old who didn’t see your worth? absolutely not. and we’re the ones with the real cosmic connection, so i’ll live.” sukuna deadpans. 

“we have a cosmic connection?” you ask. 

“of course. you think i let yuuji play my video games when i was six? i only let you guys play, the first time we met because you were there. i was fully intent on hanging him upside down from his legs but…decided against it.” 

you smile, pressing a kiss into the muscle of his shoulder. it takes a second – to reach your train of thought again – and sukuna affords you the time to think, twirling the ends of your hair in his fingers. 

“the year after that, i ended up in this big friend group of people, with guys, which i had never had before. it was originally a big group for a school dance, but…we just ended up hanging out after that. and when we all started hanging out as a group, i realized that my best friend and parker would…talk a lot. we’d go on picnics and they’d be trailing behind the group – and i’d never really found myself fitting in with any of them.” you state. 

you pause. 

“i’m really boring, sukuna. i mean, i know that i’m not boring, that drinking and smoking and going to parties or whatever doesn’t make you cool – but at that time, i felt boring. they’d all smoke and i’d shake them off, they’d all dress a certain type of way and i wouldn’t. and…and it was like everyone knew it too.”  

“we’d play these games of truth or dare. and i’d always do dare, just to…get sometime tame. like writing something in marker on the wall.” 

sukuna’s eyes widen. 

“how is vandalism tame?” 

“erasable markers. and compared to everyone else’s dares – to kiss each other on the neck, to wear each other’s clothes or…or take their own clothes off. i’m glad they never asked me to do that stuff, because they knew i wouldn’t or…or i couldn’t…but. made me feel like a sore thumb sometimes.” 

you swallow hard. 

“there was this guy in the group. his name was mazzy.” 

“prick name.” sukuna states. 

you laugh. 

“you’re funny.” 

“what was funny about that? objectively, that is such a prick name. i want him dead.” 

you can’t help but look up at him, his angry brown eyes looking down at yours. and slowly but surely, he breaks out into a smile, rubbing into the little smile lines by your eyes. 

“i love how i just wished death on another person and you’re smiling at me like i’m the sun.” sukuna states. 

you laugh in response, as you rest your head back against his shoulder and trace stars into your shoulder. 

and there’s a searing regret when you recall that what comes next was the catalyst for everything that happened – that a seemingly harmless move caused you some of the deepest, gutting pain of your life. 

“i sent him a tiktok, based on this inside joke that the entire group had about him. individually, in a chat with just me and him. and after that…we just started talking. everyday, about lots of different things.”

you swallow hard. 

“about him, a lot. he’d tell me all about…the girls he liked, what he liked about them. it was always objectifying. and…sometimes he’d make these comments after i asked why he told me. i was…trying to hint that he thought i was really trustworthy, or that we were friends but-” 

you frown. 

“he’d always say it’s because i’m not a real girl.” 

“what?” sukuna asks. 

you can feel hot tears in your eyes, remembering the biting sting of being told that in the early hours of the morning, when you’d sacrifice your sleep to hear what he had to say.

“i wasn’t a real girl.” you whisper.  

sukuna reaches forward, swiping the lone tear spilling from your eye, his demeanor washed over in concern, in contempt. 

“he…he wasn’t a good guy. so, just…don’t judge me for not saying anything about it or the comments he made and-” 

“you were sixteen. keep going.” sukuna whispers. 

the recognition, or the mere acknowledgement, that sukuna wasn’t going to accost you for not doing the right thing is enough to make your chest ache. because now, at twenty-two, the comments he made – slight jabs at the expense of others – they disgust you. 

and sometimes it disgusted you that you had put up with it, that you had brushed it aside, just so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. that you were that desperate for it. 

“when i asked what he meant, he said it again. that i don’t count as a real girl, that…which is why he can tell me about how hot other girls are, how horny he is for them all the time. and i know – trust me, i know how fucked up it was of him to say that, of me to not correct him – but…i guess i just internalized it instead. that he had put words to the feeling i had. that i didn’t get dares like the other girls did, that other guys weren’t interested in me, because…” 

there’s a block lodged in your throat, vision blurry. 

“because i’m not a real girl. i’m not pretty, and i wasn’t smart and – why would someone ever consider me…why did i delude myself into thinking it could be different?” 

sukuna’s insurmountable rage is displaced now, from this faceless asshat, to everyone else. to idiots like naobito – who was going to get another beating from him – to yuuji and kugisaki’s seemingly harmless comments, even down to your mother who had affirmed this feeling to you. hundreds of times over. 

but he realizes that it's because they don't know. and makes every intention to stop them, in the most discrete way he can.

“a year after that, he started talking to me about more personal stuff. about his parents, how he thought his sister hated him. and i’d always listen – i’d always affirm him that i thought he was great, and that point, i had started liking him…and i’d do anything to make him feel good.” you state. 

you bite into your cheek. 

“there was this day where he was talking about his parents, about how he felt so frustrated hiding it, and i…i told him that it wasn’t just him who felt like that, that lots of people did. like me. and it was almost like he had flipped a switch – because we went from talking about him to him…wanting to know everything about me.” 

sukuna absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear, the thoughts floating around his head. that at that time, it must have meant the world to you. that now, you were one of those people. that someone wanted to talk to you, to know about you too.  

but it leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth. because it almost feels exploitative to him, that this asshat had talked to you for a year at this point, and had only now thought to ask about you. after you had played therapist for a year. 

and the thought of you spilling out your secrets – about your dad, about sammy – just to have it turn around on you alter makes him understand that little concrete wall. and thanks the lords that he was there, a house across from you his entire life. 

the regret that sukuna left is deeper. because sukuna couldn’t have prevented it – any of it – but the thought of you suffering alone made his stomach hurt. that he could have at least been here. 

“where was yuuji?” sukuna asks. 

“you know…no one really knew that we talked. yuuji included. it was almost late into the night and…and when we first got together, we didn’t tell anyone for months. it wasn’t going to be a good idea, because of a fight we had before we were dating, where he called me a bitch in front of everyone and-” 

“he called you a bitch?” 

“yeah. it was this dumb thing, group plans that i had made that were kind of spontaneous from this volunteering thing. some people felt left out, and…and i had even invited him because he wasn’t there…but later…when it all kind of blew up in my face, he called me a bitch and everyone was just confused as to why we were friends after that. left a bad taste in people’s mouths.” 

“why didn’t it? for you?” sukuna whispers. 

“he was really good at being apologetic. and if someone was being earnest, i was always going to forgive.” you murmur. 

sukuna frowns. 

“always loved that about you. that you saw good, even if there wasn’t any.” 

you smile. 

“yeah. came to bite me in the butt later but…i’m getting ahead of myself.” 

sukuna nods, hand warm around your neck, as he pulls you closer. 

“when we met up for the first time, we wrote each other these letters. mine was four pages – about all the things i liked about him, memories that i cherished. and he wrote me one too, but…” 

you pause. 

“it was nice. there was stuff in there that was nice. but..he ended it with some joke about how he wanted to hit it from behind.” 

sukuna watches the disgust spread over your face, as you shake your head like you’re trying to get it off of you.

“he also tried to kiss me that day. but i dodged it. he did grab my butt though, which…i don’t know. guess i wasn’t expecting, but maybe should have in hindsight. he had asked me to wear these leggings and this form fitting shirt…” 

sukuna tries to think back to the first time the two of you kissed – to see if there were any inclinations of you pulling away. but he remembers it vividly, the way he pulled you into his lap in your bedroom, pressing kisses into your neck while you were begging him to kiss you full on. 

it makes him happy. 

but it disgusts him, the second part. that he had dictated what you were going to wear, that he had run his hands over you without asking for permission. and it reminds him of that day, where you were purposely trying to dress to impress him, and thanks the heavens he trusted his instincts and asked you to change. 

“the second time, i mustered the courage to kiss him back when he leaned in. and he was kind of…aggressive with it. a lot of the things he did were that way, kind of a lot. i’m more into…the softer things i guess but –” 

“i love that.” sukuna states. 

you smile. 

“yeah?” 

“i’m not a fan of that – the aggressiveness.” 

sukuna brings his fingertips to your face, thumb brushing down from the bridge to the end of your nose. 

“i like to savor it. keep it slow, so…so i can feel it all. commit you to my memory.” sukuna whispers. 

your shy smile makes sukuna’s heart skip a beat. 

“me too. wanna remember it forever.” you whisper. 

sukuna gives you a smile, before nodding for you to continue. 

“he talked to me a lot about how…horny he was before we were even dating. but now that we were, it was…something he talked about a lot. and while he never…outright forced me to do something, it was almost like he was wearing me down. first, he…he wanted me to send him nudes. i didn’t like the idea of doing that because he could use them against me so he told me that we should just…facetime and do it, if we had to.” you murmur. 

there’s an embarrassment that’s blooming over your skin, images of sneaking downstairs – past sammy and your mom – just so you wouldn’t get caught. 

“and i said no. but he asked again and i…i guess i caved. then he was talking about he wanted to take screenshots…because…” 

you lean your head back, the embarrassment – the realization that you had done something so utterly stupid that it made you keel back. but this time, sukuna fills the silence. the way you were harshly cutting off the circulation to his hand from squeezing signaled to him that he had to – and he wanted to meet you where you were. 

“you’re doing so good, you know that?”  sukuna whispers. 

there’s a film of tears in your eyes. and you shake your head. 

his lips are warm on your forehead, brushing away the frown lines. 

“doing so good, angel. so proud of you, you know that?” 

you scoff. 

“for what? being an idiot?” you murmur. 

sukuna’s voice is soft, but adamant. 

“don’t.” 

you sigh. 

“sorry. it’s a habit. i…i don’t actually think i’m an idiot. for any of it, because…i was just a kid. i just wanted someone to like me and–” 

“and someone took advantage, sweetheart. that doesn't make you an idiot.” 

it makes your chest ache. that he understands it. 

“yeah.” 

you swallow hard. it's enough to keep you going.

“he told me that i made it really hard for him…to jack off. because i didn’t really wear revealing clothes, which is why he needed the picture. that it would take him hours and that…if he had something it would just make it easier.” 

sukuna’s eyes have a murderous glint, but you ignore it for the time being. 

“it was kind of a slippery slope after that. because how are nudes different from a screenshot? that he’s my boyfriend so i should trust him and let him save them. that i should take my phone in the shower and call him and…” 

you trace the outline of sukuna’s tattoos. 

“he’d mask it all in compliments. tell me that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me and then ask. say that i was the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen before he asked me to get up and send him a picture after i was already in bed.” you state. 

sukuna gets it. words of affirmation. mazzy knew it meant the world to you and used it to his advantage.

“we started meeting up after that. and you remember how strict my mom was with sammy and his parents were too…so we’d kind of just…do stuff in my car.” 

you frown. 

“i’d fight with my mom about it. about how i wanted to drive myself to hangouts. she thought it wasn’t safe, but i’d just…cry so hard about it…because i knew it would disappoint him and i had to go. she’d give in, but…i’d feel like shit after the fact. and whenever we did stuff, it would be blistering hot in the car and his touch was already so…aggressive that i hated it.” 

you sigh. 

“i’d feel disgusting afterwards. not only because i was caked in sweat or because i did that, but…he’d always call me names. was really into choking and…and i was always scared that my mom would find out when i’d come home looking disheveled or smelling like him. i’d spend hours in the shower trying to scrub the feeling off till i was clean.” 

the obsessiveness. sukuna had watched you do it hundreds of times, pricked and prodded at your skin when you felt like you were at your worst. he cups his cheek in your hand, fingers soft on the little blemish on your cheek – and he can’t help but wonder how many times you had picked at it until it bled, scraped off the healing in the name of feeling like his touch was off of you. 

you can see sukuna’s eye watering and before you can even prod as to why, he shakes his head. 

“there was one time where the security guards of that mall caught us, because i needed to turn the air on in the car. and it was so humiliating, because i wasn’t wearing a shirt and…and they flashed a light on me and started yelling at me. i…i found it hard to take my shirt off after that and…i don’t know. he’d do stuff like that all the time. grope me in public when we were standing against the wall or…at the prom after he didn’t ask me.” you state. 

you shake your head. 

“anyways, we told people at some point. and people stopped talking to me. he wasn’t a nice guy, he…he had even bullied some of my friends which i found out about later, but…they just didn’t want to associate with him or me by proxy. yuuji was one of the only friends i had during that time, but he was really confused about what was happening too. and he’d ask but…i couldn’t bring myself to tell him because he’d want me to end it then and there. and i would have but–” 

you lean your head back. 

“he was really unstable. every time he fought with people, he would tell me that he…he'd get so upset and...and punch walls and stuff. and…i felt like it was on me, that his life was in my hands if i didn’t say the right thing. so if i ended things, i’d be leaving him alone – without a lifeline.” 

sukuna breaks the silence. 

“that’s a big burden to carry at seventeen. feeling like you’re responsible for someone’s wellbeing.” 

the recognition makes you cry. 

“yeah. it…it is, isn’t it? and-and it was so scary, sukuna. i really thought something bad was going to happen…so i did what i knew would make him feel better.” 

sukuna understands. that you were able to give it up and do the one thing you hated doing just to make him feel good, to satiate his needs. 

you shake your head. 

“anyways, it went on like that for the rest of the year. almost all of the memories from that year are colored dark – because he either did something bad or was mad at me. my eighteenth birthday, my graduation. and around july, i…i had found something bad.” 

sukuna tilts his head to the side.

“i was curious one day, so…so i decided to look my dad up. it had been years since he had gone but i just wanted to see. and i found a yelp review for his company and just searched that woman’s name up who left it.” 

“sukuna…my dad had been cheating on my mom. for a really long time. there were pictures and…vacations and all this stuff while my mom was like…taking loans from your mom just to buy us clothes and–” 

sukuna’s perceptive. and you’re endlessly thankful about it in this moment, just because you don't have to say it.

“he cheated on you, didn’t he? just like your dad did on your mom?” sukuna whispers.

“yeah. i had asked him not to, begged him even, and i-i found out the same way. when he left for college, he’d been so distant that i had started stalking all his followers, just to see what he was up to. and he was…commenting pick up lines on this girl's account.” 

you tuck your head into his neck. 

“when he came back for break, he told me that he was confused but…but we still did stuff. he broke up with me two days after that.” 

sukuna brings his hands up around your waist, pulling you up till you’re straddling him and secured in his lap. you’re stifling your sobs into his neck, his hands warm on your back as he leans his head against yours. 

“our anniversary was on december first. i had sent him a gift, this custom made expensive necklace he wanted, and…and two days after the fact i found out that while i was ordering that online, paying same day shipping, he was on a date with her.” you state. 

sukuna sighs, pulling you in closer. 

“he sent me pictures of their date. because we were still friends. he’d tell me how i was going to be important to him forever, and…tell me all about her. how perfect her family was, how smart she was…that she even matched his sex drive more and–” 

you sigh. 

“we talked on and off for that year. whenever he came home for break, we’d basically talk all the time – but i figured out later that it was only because of the time difference and that his girlfriend was asleep. and the time that we did spend talking, it was him talking about how he felt like such a dick for how he treated me. and every time, i’d-i’d reassure him that it was okay, that i didn’t mind it.” 

“still using you to make himself feel good, huh?” 

“yeah. isn’t that….so fucking stupid?” 

sukuna sighs. 

“that’s very cruel, y/n.” 

you pull back, the full depth of the word hitting you as you look at his eyes, brown and washed over in hurt. not pity – because you had seen that droop hundreds of times, but…in recognition. you reach forward, cupping his face. 

“very cruel.” you whisper back. 

“that’s heartbreaking. you’re a very earnest person and for someone to take advantage of this –” 

sukuna reaches forward, pointing at your chest, before he crosses on it again – like the promise he made earlier – and continues talking. 

“– of your beautiful heart is brutal, y/n. of course, you felt the way you did about it. anyone would.” 

you nod, reaching forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“i hope you know i’ll spend a lifetime trying to mend this with you, whatever that looks like.” sukuna whispers. 

“sukuna–” you whisper. 

“i’ve always seen you as what you are – a girl. in fact, the only girl for me.” 

it’s almost painful. that sukuna’s repeating every word back to you, but the other way. in the way you had wanted when you were seventeen, when you were so desperate to love someone. 

“you’re the only person that i’ve ever considered, for something this serious. i know i’ve dated other girls and slept around but…i’ve never felt this way about anyone.” 

sukuna reaches forward, taking your hand into his and placing it flat against his chest, over his beating heart. 

“s’yours. all yours, for as long as you want it.” 

you cross on his heart, which has him breaking out into a smile. 

“there’s my pretty girl…come here, yeah?” he whispers, gesturing for you to scoot closer, till you’re faces are only a few feet apart. 

and the way he scans his eyes over your face makes your chest hurt – with such attentiveness, with such adoration as he continues murmuring his sweet nothings. 

“i’ve always loved your style. i think you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen – i love when you frown at me and pretend to be mad and when you sleep with your mouth open.” 

you roll your eyes, sparing him a teary laugh. 

“i do not.” 

“yes, you do. but anyways–” 

“no i don’t!” 

“baby, i’ve watched you sleep. your mouth is wide open, like you’re going to catch flies.” 

“okay, edward cullen. why are you watching me sleep?” 

sukuna smiles. 

“you look at peace. i love it.” 

you shake your head, as he continues. 

“you…you drive me crazy.” 

he drops his hands down your back, the touch making you shiver. 

“but you’re going to call the shots. we’re...we’re going to do what you like. when you’re ready for it and –” 

“i meant what i said earlier. i’m ready.” you state.

“i’d wait years if you needed me to.” 

you smile. 

“i know. but i want you too. and– you…you’re everything to me.” 

sukuna smiles back. 

“never want you to put your own needs to the side for me, ‘kay? i’d never expect you to do that. you don’t need to sit in sweltering cars or…or get up from bed for me. i’ll always be there after – washing your hair and tucking you into bed and –” 

you lean forward, cupping his face, as you press a kiss to his lips. it’s warm and sweet, mixed with a mess of your tears – and him murmuring against your lips. 

“angel–” he whispers.

“what?” you murmur back, whispering onto his lips.

“i’ll write you hundreds of letters. i’ll buy you nice gifts on our anniversary and it’ll be just you and me. make you a playlist with all my favorite songs, listen to all of yours. i'll even get a shitty cat if you want one that bad.” 

you pull back, shifting your gaze from his left eye to the right and then back to the left. it’s the jump again – the same one you made last time. 

when you promise someone your heart, when you begin to cross your heart on someone else’s. 

"cat? really?"

sukuna glares.

"of course that's what you fixate on."

you smile.

“do you really mean it?” 

sukuna reaches forward, crossing on your chest. you return the gesture. 

“always. you’re everything to me.” 

you poke at his dimples. you’ll leap – for him. 

“does this change things?” you ask.

sukuna pulls you closer. 

“it helps me understand you better. makes me love you more, because you’re the strongest person i know. has me filled with pride because you won’t let bad things, or experiences, change how good your heart is.” 

you lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. 

“don’t flatter me. you’re going to make it impossible for me to leave, ryomen.” 

you can see it – the glint in his eyes when you use his given name. and the ear splitting smile that follows makes you ache as he leans forward and closes the gap. 

“that sounds like the perfect scenario to me.” 

--

the following morning, sukuna leaves early for work. but you find a perfectly plated breakfast and a letter sitting on the counter. 

seven pages worth of sukuna and his sweet words – and an embarrassingly cute story about the camping trip you took years ago. 

(you ask satoru to corroborate the story after. and he spells it out in full detail, about how in his drunkenness, sukuna told the group of them about your night together in the camping bag.)

--

an: anyways. lore. no one look at me - and big fluff chapter after this one, trust.

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