Jjk Writing - Tumblr Posts

nanami likes to take pictures of you when he finds you looking especially pretty.

his camera roll is filled with photos of you; smiling at the camera, waving at the camera, winking, giving a silly little pose, unaware of the camera, holding the camera in an attempt to hide from it and a lot more than that.

and kento likes to swipe through them whenever he misses you a little too much, meaning — his fingers itch to the hidden folder, where he has put some pictures of you he has taken when he found you not just beautiful, but ethereal.

the tips of his ears turn red as soon as his eyes start roaming through the little squares, having learned by heart which one is which and able to recognise the day and date it was taken on without checking.

it’s a goldmine — dozens of photos that he has taken just because he thought you looked criminally beautiful; too sinful and inviting not to revisit the moment, however his favourite will always be the picture he took when you first blew him.

a cheeky smile on your face and visible hunger in your glossy eyes as you held his dick in your palm. the smeared red lipstick on your lips, the way you felt his cock’s weight against your cheek, soft hand caressing it in a way that made nanami go crazy — oh, you knew what you were doing and he was so fucking in for it.

---

Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally. 

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could. 

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead. 

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above. 

Dammit. 

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless? 

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow. 

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head. 

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?” 

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now. 

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was. 

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all. 

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms. 

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on. 

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly. 

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue. 

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow. 

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors. 

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?” 

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door. 

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless- 

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap. 

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-” 

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them. 

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter. 

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age. 

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one. 

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real. 

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?” 

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too. 

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day. 

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter. 

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then. 

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know. 

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-” 

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.” 

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him. 

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.” 

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you. 

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed. 

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but. 

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?” 

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did. 

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-” 

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!” 

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you. 

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold. 

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.” 

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away. 

Gojo Satoru was deathly still. 

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary. 

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you. 

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid. 

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-” 

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too. 

Unmistakable. 

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away. 

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him. 

It was him. Alive. 

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion. 

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-” 

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue. 

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss. 

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions. 

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure. 

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.” 

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane. 

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric. 

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist. 

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip! 

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all. 

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds. 

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs. 

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”  

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing. 

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit. 

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.” 

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths. 

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones- 

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance. 

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there. 

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–” 

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now. 

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better. 

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach. 

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away. 

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable. 

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation. 

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager. 

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this. 

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs. 

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared. 

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you. 

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.” 

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.  

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length. 

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows. 

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”  

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy. 

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock. 

“Spit on me.” 

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes. 

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot. 

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside. 

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure. 

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet. 

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful. 

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins,  “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

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Dream A Little Dream - G.S.

Synopsis. For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you. 

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. fem! reader, established relationship, implied sex, fluff, soft and sleepy Satoru, very slight manga spoilers, just Satoru loving on you and your future together.

Word count. 0.8k

A/N. Probably gonna delete. Art by @_3aem on X.

It’s times like this - when the quiet morning sun is just peeking in through your window, in the still haze of your naked body peacefully intertwined with his that Satoru allows himself to dream.

He dreams of everything - from the strawberry lollipops he snuck into the Gojo Estate as a kid to the time when he forgot Megumi at the mall. 

But mostly, he dreams of you.

Eyes still veiled with sleep, wandering the expanse of your face, a hand tenderly running along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Thumb softly catching on the corner of your mouth, slightly quirked up, he wonders what you’re dreaming of. 

Do you dream of him too?

Because Satoru’s favorite dream will always be the one with you. 

Your laughter in the morning light as he smothers you in kisses, how it rings in his ears and carries through his day. If there’s one thing Satoru knows, it’s that he would burn this entire godforsaken world down to keep it there. Even in the face of violence, his favorite song.

Reaching out to softly kiss your fingers, the hands which hold his heart and his future. 

Unhurriedly, he caresses that empty spot on your ring finger. Soon. 

Little black box burning a hole into that hidden corner of his dresser, Satoru absentmindedly wonders whether you would go for a flowing gown or more of a sleek design? He dreams of the delicate lace under his fingers, the gentle sway of the fabric and the blue bouquet to match his eyes. 

A huff of laughter, followed by a melancholic twinge of his heart, finds its way into the still morning air as he imagines the way Nanamin would have been crying very reluctant tears of joy.

Long fingers deftly run along the expanse of your body, drawing patterns on the marks he’s left to remember him by, resting on your stomach. He dreams of a world where he is there to see you run around with a few white-haired bundles of joy. All of them with your personality of course - he couldn’t handle having to fight with some mini versions of himself over you.

And they may be closed for now, but he dreams of the twinkle in your eyes as they meet his, the promise of a beautiful day ahead. 

He can only pray that they always look at him that way. Even when the shine of your eyes dim with age, the chapters of your story showing on your face. The dream where you two complain about your first gray hairs - him cackling about you finally joining the club. 

It might not seem like it, but in the blood and merciless gore of jujutsu, a part of the strongest always thinks back to the heaven he’s found in you. 

The heaven where you both cry over your kids leaving the nest, and later he’d fervently deny his teary eyes - secretly wiping the tears off his glasses. 

Where you spend quiet evenings on the porch, wrapped in blankets and reminiscing about the adventures of your youth. Did he ever tell you that story where he lost the tickets to a movie and had to sneak into the theater with Shoko and Suguru? Boy, did he get an earful from Yaga that day.

The dream where he’s surrounded by you and all your warmth. In the cold pain that comes with being the strongest, he can only hope that a day will come where his strength - rather than being used to kill - holds your future with ready arms. 

Ripping his eyes off of your face, they wander the room bathed in the soft morning glow. Mapping the empty spaces which you two would fill with pictures. The walls which would echo with laughter and whisper tales of serenity.

First days at school, graduations, all the friends and foes lost along the years - and one big picture of you in that beautiful white dress, right in the middle. All beauty and grace. His beautiful bride. A dream where his last name is a melody not a death sentence.

He dreams he’s there to fetch your walking cane to stroll through your little garden with a cup of his famous morning tea. He’d hold your hand as he always does, both trembling and frail with age. He dreams he would kiss the beautiful wrinkles on the corners of your eyes, only for you to push him away bashfully complaining about the grandkids seeing.

Blue eyes faded and the joy of the years showing on his face, not as strong or as vibrant as he once was, limitless nothing more but a trick to make his grandkids smile. Not a weapon, but just your Satoru. He hopes you’ll still be there to love him.

And he dreams he’s there.

He wants to be there. 

“Satoru?”

Satoru’s heart lurches as those beautiful eyes crack open, still foggy with sleep. A glimpse of that smile he found heaven in, and you pull him closer. Understanding. Skin heated against his, no one but you two in this quiet world.

All is well in your little heaven.

Today, the strongest will face Ryomen Sukuna, the fate of the world burdened upon his shoulders. But for now, Satoru is held fragilely in your arms.

For now, he is yours. 

He only dreams he can be forevermore. 

A/N. Tony writing something that isn’t smut??? The world is coming to an end.

Plagiarism not authorized.

---

love & company || r. sukuna

❦ biker ryomen sukuna x female biker reader || non-curse au

❦ oneshot

❝ you're beginning to lose hope of ever fixing your bike as the moon rises over the horizon when a man built like a brick wall and covered in tattoos stops to help you out. he's standoffish and his words are cold - but as it turns out the version of him you see is soft. who knew this man could ever become your best friend, let alone something more? ❞

❦ warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. friends to lovers. fluff. hurt/comfort. p in v. fingering. oral (f! and m! receiving). degradation (slut). choking. pet names (princess, brat, woman, girl). size kink. rough sex. unprotected. biting. hair pulling. manhandling. toxic relationship (not sukuna). manipulation (not sukuna). reckless driving. use of alcohol and cigarettes. reader is implied to be short/small mostly in comparison to sukuna but he's huge so. ooc warning for sukuna given that this is modern and i want him to be more realistically human. i probably got some of the bike information wrong.

❦ words ; 24.2k.

masterlist || husband!sukuna headcanons || more husband!sukuna hcs

A cool evening wind chills your skin as you hunch over your bike on the side of the road. You’re thankful for your thick leather jacket to protect you from the brisk winds, but it doesn’t make it easy to work when your thoughts continue to stray to the fast-approaching night.

Your Kawasaki motorcycle puttered to a stop an hour ago and you’ve been on the side of the road ever since. Of course it would happen today of all days, where your patience runs thin and you want nothing more than to be curled up in bed.

Your small array of tools that you keep for times like these are finally proving useful, but you can hardly bring yourself to care as you run out of things to check. You’re almost certain the issue is a clogged fuel line at this point but without the necessary tools to check, you’re fresh out of ideas on what to do aside from calling a tow truck.

The sound of another passing motorbike is grating on your ears as someone speeds by on a bright red Ducati and you want to curse them out just for having a working bike, but to your surprise, they circle back a minute later and pull up next to you.

A broad-shouldered figure steps off the bike, pulling a dark helmet off and giving his head a shake, running a hand through his pink hair to give it a naturally windswept look. Tattoos line his sharp jaw and scars litter his right eye. Deep near-crimson eyes lock on you, a mildly cold expression spread over the tall man’s features. He’s just about the textbook definition of what you would think of as a ‘bad boy’.

He looks you over before taking in the state of your bike. The sight of you covered in grease and oil sitting in defeat on the ground is amusing to him to say the least- you don’t much look the part of a biker between your small figure and approachable stature but one look at your bike and attire tells him not to judge a book by its cover.

“Need a hand?”

Unfortunately for the tattooed man, he’s caught you in a bad mood.

“No,” you grumble, picking up your wrench and dipping back into a rhythm of checking everything.

“I’ve got more tools than just a wrench,” he offers. Your intense gaze looks him over again, surveying the black leather hanging off his shoulders and red helmet that matches his bike tucked under his elbow.

“I can handle myself,” you insist, not keen on accepting a stranger’s help, especially given his cold expression.

“Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he retorts with a click of his tongue. “Just askin’ if you want a spanner or pliers.” His eyes flicker to the moon rising in the sky. “Or a flashlight.”

You follow his gaze out to the rising moon, its light not offering enough of a look at your bike to be all that helpful as night begins to fall.

You sigh, wiping perspiration from your forehead with the back of your hand. The man’s lips quirk upwards in a minute smirk at the sight of the grease you accidentally wipe on your head. He thinks it’s cute.

“A spanner would be helpful,” you give in, pulling a pair of pliers from where you’d set them down beneath your knee to show you did at least have a couple of tools handy.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, the tall man turns to the backpack he’d set on the ground behind him. He sets his helmet on the seat of his bike and pulls out a spanner, handing it to you in place of the torque wrench you’ve set at your side.

He’s silent as you thank him and begin adjusting the spanner’s size to detach the fuel line. Standing in silence, he does little more than watch given that you don’t seem to want his help.

When the fuel line finally detaches, you groan as you realize you’d been right about the problem the entire time and the line is blocked. Without an air compressor, there isn’t much you can do to get your bike running again and your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Now d’you need a hand?” He asks with a raised brow and a small smirk.

The look you shoot him is fiery and he’d be a liar to say he doesn’t think your attitude is cute. It suits the strange vibes he gets from you in the best of ways.

“I’ll just call for a tow,” you insist, still refusing the help of the stranger you know nothing about, aside from the fact that he has just about the most high-end street legal sports bike in pristine condition and you find it to be pretentious.

“Suit yourself. I can fix it for free, though.”

You press your lips into a thin line, brow furrowed as you look over his features. The man practically towers over you, he’s built like a tank and dwarfs you in every sense. His expression is aloof, giving away very little about him. You have no reason to believe he’s lying though, so with a sigh, you give in and hand him the spanner he’d lent you.

The man lowers himself beside you, disconnecting the other side of the fuel line entirely as he begins pulling apart the carburetor. You sit back, watching your bike attentively as though he might do damage to it, but his fingers move deftly as if this is all muscle memory to him.

“What’s your name?” You ask as the silence stretches on. It’s a surprisingly comfortable silence, as he grabs a rag and water bottle from his backpack. He glances at you as he wets the rag and begins cleaning the carburetor.

“Sukuna.”

“You know your way around a bike.”

“Been riding for a while.”

You nod. Despite his kind actions, his words are distant and frigid, so you decide not to push the subject.

It’s silent for a while as you sit with your hands splayed on the asphalt behind you, watching his actions. Your eyes survey the man hunched over your bike, admiring the smooth lines of the tattoos that line his jaw, more ink just barely visible along his neck from beneath his jacket. His hair looks freshly dyed and his right eye is dotted in long scars that have you wondering what happened.

If the situation were any different, you might be hesitant to accept his help, but in truth you’re too tired to complain.

It’s not much longer before your bike is back together. Wiping his hands with the rag, he nods to the bike.

“Give ‘er.”

Pushing yourself to your feet, you turn the key. The engine flips once, twice, three times, before finally sputtering to life.

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you sigh in relief, shaking your head. “I thought the issue was the fuel line,” you groan over the sound of the engine.

“It is. You need to replace it, this should get you a few miles away though.”

You nod affirmatively, reaching down to hand back his tools. Sukuna dumps them in his bag and throws it over his shoulder.

“You’re a lifesaver, I don’t know how to thank you,” you tell him, your mood no longer sour as your bike continues to roar, thankfully not dead on the side of the road anymore.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He simply shrugs.

“Let me buy you a drink, or something,” you insist in spite of your exhaustion, though his cold demeanor doesn’t give you much hope that he’ll accept anyway, so you figure you’ll be able to get some rest regardless of the offer.

As he turns to grab his helmet, you half expect him to start his bike and drive off without another word, ignoring your offer entirely. It’s just the impression he gives you, but he surprises you.

“Keep up, then.”

Your brow raises and before you have a chance to complain that you’re covered in a layer of sweat and grease and you’d meant at a later date, his bike is roaring to life.

You scramble onto your own bike and follow him closely. Sukuna is half-shocked when you actually pull up into the parking lot of a small bar right behind him, pulling your helmet off and shaking your head in an effort to fix your hair.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t find everything about you intriguing. From your bike to the way you ride and your feisty disposition all packaged in such a tiny figure compared to him, he thinks it’s cute. Maybe even something more than that.

He leads the way to the bar wordlessly as you complain about the grease coating your body, but he barely notices the oil marking your skin. He’s used to it, if anything, from working on his own bike.

You aren’t even sure if he’s listening given his flippant attitude and lack of response, but you drone on regardless. It’s better than silence.

Choosing to ignore your frustrated rambles, he orders a whiskey and glances in your direction.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” you tell the bartender with a sweet smile, waving your hand in the air like you don’t much mind what exactly you’re drinking. It’s your turn to surprise Sukuna.

“Don’t think I caught your name,” Sukuna says as you lean over the bar beside him.

You tell him your name with a sweet smile, your mood clearly improved as you take the whiskey and damn-near down it in one swift movement.

When your eyes land on Sukuna again, he’s smirking. He’s not really sure what to make of you nor you of him, but he certainly likes it.

Though you both elect not to have any more alcohol in favor of driving home later, conversation comes easily for the rest of the hour. At least, as easily as it comes for Sukuna.

“Where’d you get your bike?” You ask decidedly, trying to make conversation with the stoic individual.

“A shop up north.”

“Looks like it cost a pretty penny.”

He hums in approval.

That’s about how most conversations with him go, so when you throw your jacket on and insist you should get home, you’re admittedly surprised when he pauses and holds his hand out expectantly.

You stare up at him curiously. Not once had you gotten the impression he was interested in any of your conversations, yet now he wants something from you? You can’t decide what to make of this, what to make of him.

“Sorry, um,” you stare down in confusion at his expectant hand, mouth opening and closing as you try to decide what to say.

“Your phone,” he instructs and your pretty eyes widen as you stare up at him, the difference in stature between you both now incredibly apparent as he dwarfs you when standing over you.

“Oh!” You stare at him with pursed lips and pull your phone out, opening it to your texts. He sends himself a text and hands your phone back wordlessly, before turning his shoulder as he walks out abruptly, leaving you further confused.

Chasing after him, you just barely catch him as he kicks his bike’s stand up and throws his helmet on.

“Thanks again!” You call after him. He glances over his shoulder and though you can’t see his expression behind the dark visor of his helmet, he smirks back at you before driving off.

As you just barely make it back home on your sputtering bike, you manage to replace the fuel line and shoot him a text.

11:53 PM You || fixed the fuel line. thanks again, youre a lifesaver

11:55 PM Sukuna || thanks for the drink.

In all honesty, you figure that’s the last you’ll ever hear from him, but you quickly find out that the cold disposition he gives off isn’t really all there is to him when he asks if you want to go to a bike show a week later.

He fails to mention that his youngest brother Yuji would be joining you for the show, but as you walk the show floor with him and his younger sibling, you realize his brother likely just got all the conversation genes.

Sukuna is still aloof, he doesn't say much to you outside of comments about the bikes and even though he’s the one that invited you, you still can't tell if he enjoys your company. Although he’s quiet, his presence is surprisingly alluring and you're grateful to have someone to listen to your ramblings, even if he doesn't seem interested.

As you walk the length of the convention hall, weaving between crowds of people that seem to part at Sukuna’s menacing figure, Sukuna pauses to look at gorgeous black Yamaha. You barely catch the way he silently stops, managing to point out the pause to Yuji just in time to keep you all from getting separated.

“Don’t think I’ve heard him talk this much in ages,” Yuji comments with a raised brow. You tilt your head towards him, following his gaze to Sukuna.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” the younger man scratches the back of his head. “I don’t have my license yet but I like lookin’ around. He’s usually pretty snippy about which bikes I should be looking at,” he shrugs. “You guys must have a lot in common for him to be so chatty.”

Chatty, you practically scoff to yourself. The man barely said ten sentences to you.

You do notice the way he shoots Yuji a glare or groans about his chatting on occasion, though. Not once does he direct that at you.

Even still, you don't expect him to keep inviting you out. Ten sentences isn’t exactly something to form a friendship on.

Continuing to surprise you, you still hear from him. Next thing you know, you’re invited to ride with him and his brother Choso, invited out to dinner with a group of his friends and he even accepts your invite to see a horror movie with a couple of your friends.

You’re quick to learn that Sukuna is just like that.

Sukuna’s mild and somewhat haughty disposition is something you grow accustomed to as you learn how to talk to him. Though you find yourself talking mostly at him, you realize that’s just how he likes things. He pays a surprising amount of attention to your words, though you don’t tend to notice until he shows it through actions later.

He shows up to your work with takeout on his lunch break when you mention you forgot your lunch. He goes shopping with you despite his distaste for malls when you tell him you need some new clothes. He’s more agreeable when you’re around and his friends are quick to point it out, insisting you need to be there at all times to make him more tolerable, though they’re mostly joking.

He does treat you differently from the rest of his friends. You figure it’s just because your friendship is new, though.

After being invited along on a ride down the highway to a neighboring small town with Sukuna’s friend Uraume and his brother Choso, you eye up Sukuna’s plate. You’d ordered no side with your meal but god his fries look good. You shoot him a curious glance, met with his typical aloof expression, if not one of mild irritation. Glancing again at his fries, you reach over to steal one, pleased when you pop it in your mouth.

Sukuna rolls his eyes at you, muttering under his breath about you ‘being a brat’ and how ‘you should have ordered a side’, but it’s all a show as he lets you steal another one when you smile sweetly at him.

When Choso follows your act, wanting to try the fries as well, Sukuna swats his hand away with a hiss. “My plate isn’t a buffet,” he growls contemptibly. Choso wrinkles his nose, shaking his hand of the harsh slap.

When Sukuna gets up to use the washroom, Choso waits until he’s out of earshot to comment.

“How the hell did you get away with getting some of that asshole’s fries?”

You shrug. “Dunno. He just let me.”

“Grumpy bastard…”

Again, you insist you just don’t know him well and he’s being kind so the action is brushed off.

A week later, Sukuna insists you tag along with his buddy Toji to get drinks, but when you arrive at the meeting spot and pull your helmet off, Sukuna is haughtily arguing with the raven-haired man.

“C’mon, it’s cheap. Their food’s fine.” Toji insists with little more than a raised eyebrow and an unamused sigh.

“What food?” You ask with a smile as you saunter over to the two much taller men.

“Red’s,” Toji responds gruffly, his unamused expression turning to one of intrigue as he realizes you must be Sukuna’s friend. “You must be y/n.”

You grin at him as he smirks.

“Toji,” he introduces himself. “Now can ya tell this asshole that Red’s is cheap?”

Sukuna’s arms are crossed over his chest. “We can do better for cheap.” He all but hisses, his eyes fixed in the distance.

“I’ve never been,” you glance between the two with pursed lips, mentally chuckling to yourself at how much you have to look up to both men. “I think it sounds good.”

Sukuna’s arms fall to his side as his fiery eyes lock on you. He pauses for a moment, sparing a glance at Toji, but those deep eyes return to you with a begrudging sigh as he grumbles something under his breath.

“Fine.”

Toji’s eyes widen as he dangles his keys from his hands, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he fists the keys as he gets ready to get in his car and head to the bar. He pauses before opening the door, a shit-eating grin spread over his scarred lips.

“Think I need ya to tag along more often, y/n.” He catches the tilt of your head and chuckles. “Think ya tame this shithead a bit.”

Sukuna roars something at Toji as he tries to catch him before the door slams and the car speeds off, leaving you giggling at the interaction.

Toji’s not the last to point it out, either.

You don’t think much of it, though. Sukuna just shows he cares through his actions and that’s how you come to know him as your best friend.

Sukuna is, of course, smitten with you. He adores how perfectly you seem to understand him. He loves the way you invite him along to everything with your friends despite his tendencies to scare others off. He loves that in spite of the trouble he gets himself into, your opinion of him never changes. He loves that you text him about stupid things, and that even when his response is inhospitable, you continue to text him like you would any other friend.

Because you’re his best friend. And he won’t admit it to anyone, but you know. He knows you know.

You get him. 

So of course when you excitedly text him about your date, you have no way of knowing that his naturally cold responses are no longer his usual tone. They’re frigid, maybe even mildly snarky, but over text you don’t see the way his brow is knit tightly in contempt.

When he meets your boyfriend for the first time, you notice the strange tension between your best friend and partner. Your boyfriend brings it up but you had warned him in advance that Sukuna comes across that way, so you brush it off as little more than Sukuna being himself.

Yet, you notice the little things. You’ve known Sukuna for a long time now. You notice the way his jaw tightens when he sees your boyfriend lean down to kiss you at a dinner for your birthday a year into your relationship. You tilt your head questioningly at him from across the table, a silent query, but he doesn’t give you a response, that mild expression never once leaving his eyes as he leans back in his seat.

“Kuna?” Your sweet voice pulls his attention down to you when you pull him aside as everyone is saying goodnight outside the restaurant. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

You cock your brow at his flippant response, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “I know you well enough to know you’re lying,” you insist with an expectant look.

God, that look makes his hardened expression falter. Sukuna is well aware that he’s unapproachable, scary even. His form is built and he towers over most everyone, not to mention his constant disinterested expression and the tattoos he sports.

You often tease him for his ‘resting bitch face’.

Yet here you are, hand on your hip, so small and sweet, a fire lit behind those gorgeous eyes of yours. Cute.

“It’s just been a long day, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He knows you don’t believe him, but it’s the best you’re getting and you know that as well as he does. Hurt flashes through your eyes and he does feel a pang of guilt, but he keeps it locked away as he sighs and pulls something from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Your wide eyes look up at him in shock. You’d insisted no one should get you a gift, but when you texted him this morning and told him your boyfriend, so cheerily talking to your friends behind the two of you, had forgotten your birthday, he couldn’t leave you empty-handed in that way.

You gingerly reach out and take the box from him. You know what it is instantly and the way your cheeks redden, the way it shocks you to silence has him smirking, mostly to himself. His hands remain in his pockets, his unamused expression locked on your hands that hesitate as you slowly open the velveteen box.

Lying so beautifully strewn in the box is a necklace you pointed out to him when you’d gone shopping together what must have been years ago now. A gorgeous silver chain lays delicately holding a dainty bejeweled star with your birthstone in the center. Of course he’d been paying attention. He always does.

“You didn’t,” it’s all you can manage as you stare at it in disbelief. To your surprise, Sukuna is smiling softly down at you, a rare sight that you want to burn into your retinas.

“You deserve a good birthday.”

You know it’s a dig at your boyfriend, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Maybe that should be a sign, but you’re too caught up in the moment as tears brim your eyes.

“This was so expensive though, I- I- can’t-”

“You can and you will.”

You know when Sukuna demands something, he means it. This is one of those times.

Tears threatening to spill, you wrap your arms tightly around his toned middle. If he weren’t a giant in comparison to you, you might have bowled him over with the force you hug him with.

Sukuna relishes in the moment, memorizing the feeling of your body in his arms, the way you bury your head into his chest, hiding your tears in his hug as they inevitably stain his white V-neck, but he doesn’t care. His arms wrap tightly around you, one of the rare times he returns one of your affections.

When you part from him, using your free hand to wipe your eyes, Sukuna takes the box from you, moving to put the necklace on with ease. He moves like every action he takes is practiced as he confidently clasps the necklace around your neck.

“It’s beautiful,” you hum as you look down at it, running a delicate finger over the pendant.

The salmon-haired man hums mildly. “‘Course. You chose it.”

You examine his eyes, your expression unreadable as you contemplate Sukuna’s actions.

He may be agreeable around you, he may be willing to make compromises with you that he won’t for others, but this is new for him. This is sweet, and he knows you’re thinking such a thing too when he meets those pretty eyes staring up at him. He doesn’t care anymore, though.

He wants you to be happy.

When your boyfriend confronts you about the necklace later that night, you tell him the truth. Maybe you hope he’ll realize he fucked up. Maybe you hope he’ll right his wrongs.

Instead, you end up in an argument as your boyfriend insists that his mistake in forgetting the date was honest but that Sukuna overstepped boundaries.

Maybe your best friend did, in truth.

And so as your boyfriend snaps when you defend your best friend and the argument takes a turn for the worse, maybe it shouldn’t be that same best friend that you turn to. Maybe that will just make things worse.

But the phone only rings twice before he picks up.

He sounds tired, his voice coated in sluggish exhaustion as he mumbles a ‘hello’ on the other line. You hear the rustling of sheets on the other end, a pang of guilt clawing at your throat as you know you’ve woken him up.

“Kuna?” The tone of your voice is foreign to him. Meek, strained. Even earlier in the night when you had confronted him about his cold disposition, your tone still held that unwavering strength and fire that he loves about you, so this wakes him up.

Leaning up on his elbow in bed, he squints at his phone.

“It’s three in the morning, y/n.”

“I know.” You pause and Sukuna waits for you to explain. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s listening. “We got into a fight.”

Sukuna sighs, full of disdain, though not towards you. Never towards you.

“You safe?” His voice is surprisingly soft, though you chalk it up to him being tired.

You nod, before realizing he can’t see you. “... yeah.”

He hears you sniffle on the other end of the line and has to physically resist the urge to say things he’ll regret about your boyfriend. “Right. ‘M on my way. Stay put.”

He hangs up, wasting no time in throwing on a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black V-neck. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, although it doesn’t do him any favors and he isn’t about to waste time styling it. As it stands, you’ve seen him in a worse state after some particularly wild nights that had ended with one of you on the other’s couch.

His bike roars to life outside his apartment and he’s off into the cold night air, barely grazing his skin as his leather jacket and helmet protect him from the bite. He pushes the limits of his bike and of the road as he speeds past any cars he comes across on the short drive to your house, and he’s glad he did when he spots you on your front doorstep, head in your hands in little more than pajama shorts and a tank top.

He’s off his bike in an instant, shaking his head as he takes his helmet off in an effort to fix his hair before he kneels in front of you.

You’re relieved at the sight of him, clearly fresh out of bed and having hurried right over. Your knight in shining armor. Or at least a shiny red helmet.

His brow furrows as he looks you over, spotting the goosebumps that litter your bare legs and arms. 

“Shit,” he mutters as he rolls his shoulders and shrugs his leather jacket off, wrapping it around you. It engulfs your figure almost entirely, draping over you like a dress. If the situation was any different he would think it’s adorable.

You look up at him between long, wet lashes, fresh tears streaking down your makeup-stained cheeks. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying and you’re sure your exhaustion and defeat are written across your face in bright bold lettering by the way he frowns.

“Did he kick you out?”

“It’s a long story,” you mutter, just barely audible.

“I got time.”

There’s a note of contempt that floats between his words and you know just as well as he does that he’s resisting the urge to beat down your door and knock some sense into your boyfriend.

Your mouth opens then closes enough times that Sukuna grows impatient, muscles in his jaw clenching as he grows closer and closer to busting down your door when you finally find words.

“We’ve been fighting on and off since we got home,” you admit. Sukuna raises a brow. That was four hours ago. “He was pissed about- about-” you stammer over your words, biting your lip as you fiddle with the necklace that sits beautifully around your neck. Beautiful like you.

“Me,” Sukuna dryly finishes your sentence.

You frown and he knows he’s right. Of course. Maybe the necklace was overstepping this time, but he’d watched your shitty boyfriend step on you more times than he could count and hadn’t once said a word. He respected you and your fiery demeanor entirely too much to ever want to see you upset.

Yet no matter what path he chose, it seemed you would be upset regardless.

“He took my phone and went through everything,” you clear your throat as your voice cracks mid-sentence, staring down at the phone in your hands. The screen is cracked and Sukuna isn’t sure if he wants to know whether it was shattered before today or not.

Your words set him ablaze in anger. It burns like an itch on his skin and it takes every last ounce of self control that he has to hold himself back and just listen. The contrasting cold air is nice on his skin, soothing what little fury it's able to with its brisk touch.

“Do you remember that photo we took together on Halloween?”

Sukuna nods slowly. He knows exactly where this is going. It was well over a year ago, before you’d started dating your boyfriend, when you had convinced Sukuna to dress as a king and you his queen. He’d had a surprising amount of fun with it and with enough alcohol flowing through his veins, his words had grown more frivolous. He’d spent all night calling you his queen or his princess, pretty much until the moment he’d thrown up, the words ejecting from his dialect along with the alcohol. Regardless, the proof was in the texts between you from that night.

At some point in the night, you’d gotten a photo taken clinging to his shoulders, a calm smile on Sukuna’s lips as he’d carried you with ease. It made him smirk the following morning recalling the memory, glad it hadn’t disappeared with the words or alcohol.

Regardless, he’d missed his chance to shoot his shot, growing too accustomed to having you around to consider you didn’t see his change in attitude around you as anything more than friendly, so he’d retreated to his usual detached self.

Clearly that detachment wasn’t enough for your boyfriend as you flip him your phone screen. So it is newly broken.

God give Sukuna the strength to sit still.

“And you’re outside now, why?”

“I felt sick, I needed air.” You shrug, fiddling with your phone in your lap. “He got mad that I walked away and we ended up fighting again, then he slammed the door in my face.”

“He kicked you out,” Sukuna states matter of factly, venom dripping from each and every word.

“He locked me out,” you shrug again, but Sukuna doesn’t care for the details. You have no keys, not to your bike or your house, no jacket, you’re in shorts and a tank top… jesus.

“What a fucking prick.” With that, he’s on his feet and you know he’s about to slam his fist on your door. Or through it. Sukuna may be kind with you but the bad boy persona he sports isn’t a persona at all- Sukuna would not hesitate to knock your boyfriend clean out. He’d been to jail before, one more time wasn’t a big deal if it meant keeping you safe.

“Kuna.” He pauses at the plain tone you say his name in. It’s not a warning, it’s not scolding. He doesn’t know what to make of it. “Not now.”

He huffs and clicks his tongue. His jaw clenches as his shrunken, furious pupils stare down at you, but when he notices your legs are shaking from the cold, he relents.

“Fine.” The word is grumbled as his hands reach for your waist and lift you to your feet with little more than a hum when you’re standing at your full height, barely reaching his broad shoulders. He leaves a hand on the small of your back, setting his helmet over your head and zipping his jacket up over your small frame in an effort to keep you safe when you climb onto the back of his bike.

Sukuna glances back at you as you cling to his toned abdomen, his bike pulling away quickly. Riding with Sukuna is familiar. Though you normally follow him, his quick riding pace and not-entirely-legal maneuvers don’t scare you the way they once did, because everything Sukuna does feels practiced, rehearsed.

Pulling into his apartment building, he pulls the bike into a parking spot and lets you hand him the helmet as you follow him up to his apartment.

It’s a bit of a mess, dishes sit in the sink, empty bottles and cans littering the counter and a garbage bag sits at the door, but it doesn’t matter because you’re warm and you’re safe and it’s not like he’d let you take the couch anyway given the current situation.

Sukuna moves to at least tidy the couch, fully expecting you to make yourself at home like you always do, but when he turns to see you’re staring at the ground in the entrance, his jacket wrapped around you like a blanket, he frowns. That’s not like you.

In fact, in all the years you two have known one another, Sukuna’s never seen you so spaced out.

“Did he hurt you?”

It’s his best guess as to why you’re so out of it, but when you shake your head, he’s simply at a loss.

Sukuna doesn’t do comfort. He’ll watch your favorite movies with you and make you food, but he doesn’t do words of comfort. He’s a man of action, and although the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on is standing in his apartment, he doesn’t dare to act on the stray thoughts running through his mind, even though he knows you deserve to be treated right.

Coming to stand in front of you, he sighs.

“Whaddya want me to do?”

Anyone else would assume he’s irritated with your presence, but you know it’s a genuine question. Your friend doesn’t know what you need and he’s trying his best to figure it out. He’s trying to help.

“Can I have a blanket?” You ask him, shoulders hunched in exhaustion.

There’s silence in the apartment as Sukuna moves to his bedroom to grab a blanket.

“The red one please!” You call after him as though that isn’t the one he’s already grabbing. He knows your favorite.

Returning to you, he drops the red blanket in your arms, his heart twisting as you pull his jacket off and hand it to him in exchange.

“Can I, um, come in?”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow questioningly, subconsciously fiddling with the tongue piercing in his mouth. Not once have you ever asked him to come in. You always, always, made yourself at home, even though it was much to his dismay the first few times you’d let yourself into his apartment in spite of his grumbles and irritated huffs.

Sukuna’s reaction is all the permission you need as you realize he must find the whole situation strange, but everything feels foreign to you. It’s not like you haven’t stayed at Sukuna’s before, it’s not like the couch isn’t your second bed, it’s that you feel like you’re betraying your boyfriend by being here.

Not that Sukuna would do anything anyway, you know he doesn’t see you in such a way. You may be his closest friend but he’s never once shown any sort of other interest towards you. Even if he did see you that way, he’s just not that kind of person.

Still, you gingerly sit at the edge of the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping yourself in the massive blanket. Sukuna moves to sit beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He looks at you expectantly, waiting to see what you want to do, if you want to talk.

But you don’t answer, and Sukuna is at a loss of what to do. A contemplative silence settles over you as he leans his head back against the couch, eyeing you and hoping you’ll say something.

“Can I ask you something, Ryo?”

The use of the nickname he lets only you call him quirks his brow as he realizes you’re serious.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

That’s… not what the gruff man was expecting to hear.

His jaw tightens as his piercing eyes stare down at you. He rubs a hand over his face as he tries to make sense of the question, too tired to be thinking this deeply over something. He stares at you pensively as though the world rests on this one response.

“Yeah. You’re pretty.”

Your eyes fall to your knees and the way Sukuna’s head tilts, you’re sure he thinks he’s made a mistake.

“Thanks, Kuna.”

“The fuck did that prick say to you that has ya askin’?”

You hesitate, avoiding his discerning eyes as Sukuna’s chest surges with anger. Your best friend’s fist clenches in his lap as he leans forward, examining your expression.

“What the fuck did he say?” Sukuna’s voice is monstrous, but you could never fear his anger knowing he’s never once directed it your way. You know he’s irritated you haven’t answered yet, but even between his irritation and the gruff tone he uses, he could never scare you.

“He told me I couldn’t do better than him.”

“And?” Sukuna pushes demandingly, his fingers clasping the back of his couch so hard you wonder if he has the strength to crush it.

“That he’s way out of my league and should have chosen…” you trail off, not oblivious to the way Sukuna quirks a brow for you to continue. When you meekly whisper your friend’s name, Sukuna’s seething.

Fury practically drifts from his body like smoke and to your surprise you do hear the couch creak beneath his hand.

You’ve only ever seen Sukuna this angry once before.

Sukuna’s closest friend aside from you, Uraume, often accompanied you on your trips to the bar with Sukuna and would join in on your rides with their own bike. The two of them were two peas in a pod, similar in all the ways you weren’t, but if anything it made you closer to Uraume for having an understanding of Sukuna.

For that exact reason, you’d spotted Uraume’s discomfort a mile away when someone began hitting on them. Uraume could handle themself, so you didn’t think much of it until the man’s hand was tightly gripping Uraume’s arm.

Alarmed, you pointed out Uraume’s discomfort to your drunk best friend and he didn’t hesitate to clock the man hitting on them.

So when Sukuna is on his feet with a familiar rage brewing and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, you know you have to calm him down before you’re bailing him out of jail again. It’s not something you want to make a habit of.

“Kuna, it’s okay.”

“No!” He hisses, swinging his hand through the air as he stares at the door.

“Please, I’ll be okay, I promise,” you try to insist, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“It’s not okay for him to say shit like that to you,” he growls, glowering from where he stands over you, eyes on the door. He wants to leave, you know he does.

“It’s not, I know, but it’s not your problem.”

“Not my- What the fuck don’t you get?”

Your eyes widen at Sukuna’s question. His voice is frigid as ever, but for once you feel the shards of ice pricking your skin.

“What?” Your dumbfounded and hurt question hangs in the air momentarily as you try to process this outburst.

Sukuna’s scarred eye twitches as he runs his tongue over his teeth. He huffs out a breath as he sees your expression, forcing himself to calm down so as not to make this about him. He doesn’t want to say something he regrets, and he certainly doesn’t want that icy tone to be directed at you, ever again.

“He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

Your shoulders fall at his words, his chest heaving as he stares at you with an unidentifiable emotion.

“Where’s this coming from?” Your brow knits tightly over the bridge of your nose. As you subconsciously chew on your lower lip, Sukuna has to do everything in his power not to stare at your lips.

“Look, I just care, alright? Or somethin’.”

You barely know how to react to your best friend’s admission of care for you. Not once has he ever shown an ounce of his care through words. Sure, he’s shown it in other ways, but this is a first for him.

His gaze is fixed on the kitchen, so he barely notices when you stand up and set your hand on his arm, your thumb comfortingly rubbing his arm.

“I appreciate it, Kuna.” You tell him with a tired smile, doing your best to reassure him that you’re okay in spite of the situation. “Just… can we please just watch a movie or something?” You’re too tired, too worn out to handle everything going on right now and you’re afraid the buildup of emotions in your chest will overflow if you don’t distract yourself soon.

Sukuna’s focus fixes on your hand on his arm, the way it seems to burn into him in a way he’d long grown painfully familiar with. It wasn’t uncommon for you to grab his arm and drag him somewhere, or hug him each time you said hello. Hell, the Halloween you’d both gotten entirely too drunk, you’d been on Sukuna’s back half of the night giggling and telling him, your King, where to take you.

Yet this time, the burn hurts. It hurts him to see you here with dried tears on your cheeks. It angers him to know your boyfriend had gotten away with treating you in such a way for so long.

He lets out a breath through his nose and takes a seat on the couch again at your insistence, watching as you drape the big blanket over the both of you. And god is it cute when you do, making sure he’s completely covered from the waist down like you’re tucking him in.

When you lean back against the arm of the couch, slinking comfortably back into the cushions and grab the remote, Sukuna feels his body begin to relax too, allowing himself to focus on your wellbeing here and now rather than the fact that he wants to pummel your boyfriend.

He’s not shocked when you flip through options and eventually settle on a Studio Ghibli movie he knows you’ve seen a million times because he’s seen it one too many times.

You know he doesn’t mind although he isn’t the biggest fan of the movie. Either way, it’s nearly five in the morning and you both know you’ll be asleep before you know it.

–

The next morning as cool air pours through a window and birdsong decorates each blow of the breeze, the pounding of your head is a rude awakening. It’s too early for you to be up given that you were awake so late, but your phone seems to think otherwise.

Your eyes flicker open blearily, and you lean up in bed with a yawn, realizing suddenly that you’re in Sukuna’s room and he’s nowhere to be found. Sitting up fully, you bring a hand up to your temple, pressing on it in an effort to ease the pain as you search for your phone, finding it eventually on the floor a small distance away.

Hopping down from the tall mattress, you yawn as you stare at the screen, your heart clenching at the sight of the contact photo on-screen as your phone rings. Your boyfriend has his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both grin. With the way your screen is now shattered, it looks almost like a scene from a movie in the way it’s practically screaming a warning at you.

You’d spent far too much time alone with your thoughts the previous night. Hell, even with Sukuna’s comfort, his disdain for your boyfriend had been a bit of a wakeup call. Still, your thumb hovers over the green button.

“Hello?” Your voice is broken as you answer the phone.

“Thank god baby, I was so worried about you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you outside last night, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

You take a couple of steps forward, walking towards the living room as your eyes lock onto the tall man draped over the couch, his limbs entirely too long for the cushions. He must have carried you to his bed at some point and taken the couch.

Your stomach twists as you realize your boyfriend’s words are all lost on you, you didn’t hear a single one. You’re not sure when you tuned him out, or how long you’ve been staring at Sukuna when your boyfriend’s words pull you from your thoughts.

“Y/n? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it. What did you say?”

He sighs in frustration on the other side of the line and you wince as his tone gains a familiar edge. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you so we can talk.”

“I- um-” you pause, brow furrowing as you stare at your best friend, who begins to shuffle from his uncomfortable position on the couch as your soft voice awakens him from slumber.

“Y/n?” Your boyfriend’s voice cuts through the haze again, but you’re at a loss for words as Sukuna lifts his head, irritation written across his face at being awake, but when he flips over on the couch and spots you, his demeanor softens.

“Yeah. You’re pretty.”

Sukuna’s words ring in your head over and over and you bite your lip. He pushes himself up on the couch, moving to stand a small distance in front of you in three long strides.

Sukuna may not have a way with words, but you never had a hard time telling what he was thinking just by the way he looks at you. As he stares down at you with a tilt of his head, you know exactly what’s going through his mind.

Like that, it all clicks. Of course he hated your boyfriend. The signs were always there, you just didn’t pay them any mind. The reason he was colder than usual towards your boyfriend is as obvious as the sun in the sky.

Sukuna thinks you’re pretty. He wasn’t trying to comfort you when he said that. That’s not who Sukuna is. That may as well be an admission that he would move mountains for you.

“Y/n, baby? What’s going on? I want you home, now.”

Your chest twists at his tone and as your eyes meet Sukuna’s, you wonder if your phone is loud enough for him to hear when his lip twitches.

You clear your throat, your eyes never once leaving Sukuna’s from where he stands with tousled hair, wrinkled sweatpants and a bare chest. It’s not unfamiliar to you, you know Sukuna is beyond hot. You know Sukuna could take anyone he wants home and you know he has a streak of doing so, but now that you think about it, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen Sukuna with anyone, and you know why now.

“You left me outside all night in the cold.” Your voice is meek, still mindlessly chewing on your lip as you stare at the tattooed man’s eyes, now lit ablaze with a fire that hadn’t been there earlier. “You know what- I should go.”

“What? Baby, come on we need to talk-”

“I have nothing to talk to you about. We’re-” You pause, your stomach stirring uncomfortably as all of your emotions seem to collide and collapse within you. You feel the tears that threaten to spill, your composure that threatens to break as you ball your hand into a fist at your side.

Sukuna’s hand twitches beside him as he does everything in his power not to lean down and kiss you then and there. He wants you. He wants all of you. He wants to show your boyfriend everything he’s about to lose.

He wants to make you his. He wants you to make him yours.

Yet, all he can reasonably do is set a hand on your upper arm. He can’t be selfish. Not when you’ve come to him in your time of need.

“We’re done.”

“Nonono, we are not done, hold on-”

“I’ll come grab my bike and my things soon-”

“-let’s talk about this, I just made a mistake, okay-”

“-goodbye.”

“Don’t hang up, baby, hold on, fuck-”

Your hand falls to your side as you stare up at the taller man.

He doesn’t say a word as a tear runs down your cheek, shortly followed by a sob wracking your body. Sukuna’s hand moves from your arm to the back of your head as he pulls you into his chest, holding you there as you cry against his bare skin, tears wetting his toned pecs.

It’s not his ideal morning, but at least he can shamelessly say now that he wants to rearrange your boyfriend’s face with his fist.

He won’t say it anyway, though. He knows better.

Your best friend doesn’t say anything but his actions speak volumes as he holds you to him protectively, unmoving as he envelops you into his form. He exhales deeply as he holds you tightly to his body, his fingers gripping you tightly. It’s reassuring to know you have him in your time of need and eventually your tears begin to subside.

You blink your wet lashes against his skin as your warm breath fans his chest and abdomen. He shoots you a disgruntled look as your lashes tickle his skin and he jolts at the feeling.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns through gritted teeth, but it holds no malice.

You chuckle through tears. “Sorry, Ryo.”

He rolls his shoulders and holds you again, letting your face fall against his chest once more. This time, you’re careful to keep your eyes closed to avoid tickling him.

He’s surprisingly patient with you as he lets you stand there, only moving to take and silence your phone when he grows frustrated with the vibration.

When you finally settle, he leads you back to the couch, tossing his shirt and the blanket off the couch and onto the floor.

“Did you move me to the bed?”

He hums affirmatively, his chest warming as you smile at him. “Thanks, I could have taken the couch though. It looked a bit too small for y-”

“No.”

You breathe out through your nose in a half-hearted laugh. There’s never any use arguing with him when he’s made up his mind, so you give it up. Oh well.

“Can I stay here for a bit?”

You figure Sukuna will huff and puff and make a show out of it but he nods easily.

“Thanks,” you sigh, sinking back into the couch.

You stare at the ceiling. What a morning. You’ve barely been awake for ten minutes and your heart is pounding in your chest just from sitting beside your best friend, someone you’ve known for years.

Someone you’d long pushed any attraction for down into the depths of your heart in an effort to save yourself the heartbreak of being with someone who seemed to have no interest in you. Hell, you’d once thought he was emotionally unavailable, and yet…?

You can’t help but stare.

He’s exhausted, you’re not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stay awake as his head bobs down onto the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar as sleep settles over his form. You smile softly at the sight, swallowing at the yearning feeling of wanting to settle into his warmth, though you know you shouldn’t.

You’re a mess. You’ve heard your boyfriend- ex- say things you aren’t ready to admit to yourself that leave fresh stinging wounds. Hell, that’s an entire can of worms you don’t want to touch right now. Your belongings, your bike, your entire life is all trapped in his house, in the house of someone that-

God why had you let him step all over you like that? It leaves you frowning as your heart twists and clenches uncomfortably. You loved him. Deep down, you know it’s the reason. You convinced yourself he loved you too.

You curse yourself for overlooking your feelings for Sukuna, for pushing them down. He’d always cared deeply for you, the signs had always been there, yet you never paid them any mind.

Chewing on your lower lip again, you get to your feet and grab the blanket off the floor, draping it over him. Your thumb brushes over the faded black lines that race over his shoulders and down his collar bones as you tuck the blanket over his shoulders.

He hums subconsciously, a serene smile pulling at his lips.

You smile back, turning to get some rest yourself. When Sukuna kicks his foot out suddenly and damn-near trips you, you let out a surprised yelp, spinning around to confront him.

“What the hell, Kuna?” You harshly snarl at him.

His lidded eyes just barely open, your reaction earning a smirk from him. There’s his feisty best friend.

“C’mere, it’s cold.”

It’s not cold, and Ryomen Sukuna is not sly, but your stomach flutters and your heart jumps to your throat anyway. Your shoulders fall to your sides in surprise, unable to be frustrated with him.

He flips the blanket up, his arm extended over the back of the couch. His expression is mild as usual but when you take him up on his offer and plop down next to him, his racing heart tells you everything you need to know.

Pulling your knees up onto the couch, you let him pull you against is chest, your head resting on his broad shoulder as he barely lasts a minute before the rhythm of his breathing steadies and his head falls back on the couch again.

You’re not long for the world of the waking either as you succumb to the temptation of sleep on his warm chest.

When your eyes flicker open again, your head has fallen into Sukuna’s lap and he’s splayed in what looks like an uncomfortable position with his arm and leg hanging off the couch. His head is still leaned back against the back of the couch with his mouth hanging open as soft snores part his lips.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him asleep. You’ve spent many hungover mornings at his apartment and vice versa but now in the gentle morning light with the distant sound of birdsong as the only noise disturbing his snores, he looks peaceful.

You shuffle on his lap in an effort to get a better look at his serene expression, but his strained groan suggests that you may have awoken him earlier than he would have liked.

“Can ya cut that out?” He grumbles without opening his eyes as he reaches down and adjusts your head to lay more on his abdomen.

The irritation in his voice doesn’t hold a candle to the sincerity in which his arm now cradles you against him and you giggle, to which he opens an eye to observe you.

“Sorry,” you hum. He exhales as he closes his eyes again, sliding further down on the couch.

You lay in bliss on his toned and horribly attractive bare chest for what only feels like a few minutes before his eyes peel open and he’s drinking in the sight of you, his gorgeous best friend, smiling at him from his chest.

And oh my god, Ryomen Sukuna is blushing.

Would you really be his best friend if you didn’t point it out?

“Kuna?”

“Hm?”

“You a lil flustered?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows deeply. “I am not.”

“You’re blushing.”

“It’s warm in here, you’re laying on top of me and we have a blanket,” he refutes with an edge to his voice that tells you that you’re poking a nerve.

You also know him well enough to know it’s faux anger, playful if anything.

“Funny, I was told it was cold a couple of hours ago.”

His lip curls, chest rising and falling beneath you as he huffs. “You push my buttons.” You can see from the way a muscle in his jaw works that he’s fiddling with his tongue piercing.

“I could push more than just your buttons,” your voice drips with confidence, lowering an octave at the implication. You pull a hand out from beneath your chin, running a dainty finger across the length of his collar bone.

Sukuna’s pupils dilate in an instant, his attention drawn to your finger. He swallows hard, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk. All signs of his contempt forgotten, warmth swirls in those gorgeous eyes of his, but the smirk on his lips is devilish.

“Careful, princess,” he warns in a gruff voice that has you clenching your thighs together with wide eyes. Sukuna’s brow twitches as he feels your legs shuffle, entirely too happy with himself at getting such a reaction from you all from two words. He chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you as you hide your face in his chest, heat radiating from your cheeks.

Tension is ripe in the air between you both when you finally meet Sukuna’s intense gaze and it makes a question pop into your mind.

“How long?” The words are blurted out and Sukuna shifts beneath you to get a better view.

“What are you on about?”

“How long have you liked me?”

Sukuna’s scoff hits the air before he can even register he’s made the noise. “Go get ready or whatever so we can pick up your shit.” His brow is pulled into a tight scowl as he all but shoves you to the ground.

You barely manage to catch yourself before falling on your ass, rolling your eyes as you steady yourself.

“Kuuuna!” You coo with a grin, but before you have a chance to tease him any further, Sukuna lunges at you. “Wait, wait-”

You shriek in protest as he barrels into your legs, effortlessly lifting you over his shoulder. He pays no mind to any of your protests, nor your kicking and squirming against him as he dumps you with little grace on his bed.

“What-”

“Stop complainin’ and go change or shower or whatever y’ gotta do. I want your bike back.”

Sitting up as you attempt to reorient yourself, you blink a couple of times and manage to call his name out just before he’s turning away.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you tell him, staring down at your pajamas.

“You’ve been leaving shit here for years, find something in my closet.”

“Have I?” You wonder aloud, suddenly realizing your hungover mornings passed in his apartment are likely the culprit for many missing outfits. “Wait, why do you want my bike back?” You realize suddenly, but he’s already shutting the door to his room and leaving you in tranquility.

Standing in the silence broken only by distant birdsong and the muffled sounds of traffic, you find your gaze lingering on the door where he once stood.

How long? You wonder to yourself. How many signs, how many signals had you missed or brushed off all these years under the assumption that your grumpy best friend was just that- your best friend?

You set a hand over your fast-beating heart, trying to steady the pace it’s beating at as emotions run rampant through you. Between the shock of realization of Sukuna’s feelings and the shitty night you’d had- your birthday, by the way- you can’t help the shaky exhale that parts your lips.

It’s a lot to take in.

You take your time showering, enjoying the way the warm water rinses away all signs of the prior night. It’s a warm respite from the days that are beginning to grow frosty as winter approaches. Most importantly, the white noise of the water falling drowns out the steady stream of jumbled thoughts flowing like a river through your mind.

Perusing Sukuna’s closet, you do manage to find more of your clothes than you had expected.

“My nice leggings were here the whole time?” You mutter to yourself as you pull them from a pile of pants. Along with them, you manage to find a pair of jeans, more shirts than you’d care to admit, an old jacket and a hoodie.

Pulling on a form-fitting black low-cut shirt and a red leather jacket, you poke your head out of the bedroom door.

“Why’d you never give any of this back?”

Sukuna’s leaning out the window with a cigarette held between two fingers. He blows a puff of smoke out into the cool fall air before turning to you. He’s still in his sweatpants but has pulled his shirt on.

“I used to bring ‘em back to your place when I visited but they always ended up back on my couch,” he shrugs simply. “Wasn’t worth the time.”

“I didn’t know it was this much clothing.”

“Your memory’s shit.”

“Ouch,” you hold a hand to your heart, feigning being hurt.

He stubs out the cigarette, waving the smoke out the window with his arm before shutting it. “Done in there?”

You nod and exchange places with Sukuna as he showers. He takes less than a quarter of the time you did and is out with the most effortlessly cool style that you can’t help but be jealous of him.

His typical black leather jacket hangs off his shoulders with a vintage Harley Davidson shirt beneath. He sports ripped jeans on his lower half and blackout shades sit atop his spiked pink hair.

“See something you like?”

You barely manage to utter out a pathetic ‘uh’ before Sukuna’s chuckling at you as he catches you eyeing him from your place on the couch. He makes his way around the couch, patting your shoulder encouragingly.

“Let’s go.”

Shaking your head to clear your mind, you get to your feet and follow Sukuna to the door, stopping him before he can leave.

“Hey. Can you stay on the sidewalk while I talk to him?”

The tall man pauses at your serious tone, examining your expression. “Why?”

You know why he’s asking.

“I’m serious, Ryo. I don’t want you two fighting.”

“He treated you like shit, y/n.”

“I- I know.”

His jaw clenches. “The piece of shit deserves-”

“I know, okay? Please, this is what I’m trying to prevent. Besides, if you get into trouble, I’ll leave your ass in jail this time.”

His head falls back, eyes closed as he comes to terms with just how serious you are. He rolls his shoulders backwards once before nodding. “Whatever, fine.” His tone drips with exasperation and anger and you can only hope at this point that he means what he says.

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, falling into place beside him as he leads the way down to his bike.

Though you rode behind him less than twelve hours ago, somehow it feels different today as he places his helmet on you and pulls you tight to his broad form. His feisty little backpack, so cute in his helmet. He’s not oblivious to the way your hands roam his abs either as a smirk pulls at his features. It’s a sweet momentary distraction from his searing anger.

It takes every ounce of self control that Sukuna has to stay at his bike as he watches you ring the doorbell of your own house. Thank god for the cold air keeping his anger from simmering through his skin. He’s sure he’d be a pile of molten anger otherwise.

You shuffle uncomfortably at the doorstep, knowing entirely too well that this is going to go poorly. You were practically asking for a fight by showing up with Sukuna but what better option do you have? Your wallet and keys are still sitting soundly on the nightstand of the bed you’d spent the last several months sleeping in. At least, that’s where they should be.

It takes a moment before the door creaks open, your ex’s surprised wide eyes staring back at you.

“Shit, thank god you’re home-”

You barely manage to duck from his grasp as he attempts to pull you into his embrace. Your heart pounds hard in your chest as you face your ex, whose face contorts to one of pain when you duck away from him.

“I told you-” You mentally curse yourself as your voice breaks. Closing your eyes, you readjust and face your ex with confidence. “We’re done.”

“We need to talk,” he insists, his voice sickeningly sweet, and it almost makes you want to gag the way he swings between sweet nothings and manipulative cords that twist your heart.

“We talked for four hours last night. There’s nothing left to talk about!” You swing a hand through the air for emphasis as your voice rises, staring at him in disbelief. “Just let me in, I need my keys and-”

His arm swings out to block the door, knuckles white as he grips the frame of the door. His brow curls upwards in… frustration? Irritation? Anger? Pain? You’re not sure. “This is your home. You belong with me.”

You swallow the bile in your throat like a stone straight to the pit of your stomach. Once words like that would have made you swoon, now you feel as though you’re a deer in the headlights staring at a man you don’t recognize. A man who holds the barrel of a metaphorical gun.

You spare a glance behind you for reassurance, spotting Sukuna sitting at his bike. If it’s possible for a man to have smoke spewing from his ears, Sukuna is the spitting image of such a thing. His face is red with anger, hands clenched at either side of his body as he tries desperately to hold himself back.

He still remembers the way you excitedly told him about your new boyfriend. About how sweet he was, how kind he was. Although it pained him to know it was someone else making you happy, he was just glad you were happy. But when you had invited him to meet your boyfriend, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel as though the man didn’t match your description.

He’d tried to convince himself he was just being jealous, but the more time he spent around you, the more he noticed.

The last straw for Sukuna was when you had invited him, your boyfriend, and some of your closest friends along to see the latest installment in the Predator franchise. You’d stopped for dinner first and your boyfriend had insisted on ordering for you.

Sukuna hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but he had found it strange when a salad had been set in front of you. Not once had Sukuna ever seen you order a salad. Well, he had, but as a side. Never as the entire meal.

He’d tried to brush it off but when you’d decided on popcorn at the movie and your boyfriend had insisted you didn’t need it, Sukuna made a point of ordering a large one and sharing it with you.

Now as you look back at him uncertainly, every bone in Sukuna’s body screams to move. Yet his brain tells him to listen to you. He takes a breath in an effort to stay calm, deciding to respect your wishes.

“You brought him here?” Your ex pales as he follows your line of sight.

That seems to give you the confidence to face him again as anger sears through your blood. “You left me outside alone! He came to get me!” You search his face for any sign of remorse. When you don’t find it, tears prick at your eyes. Over a year spent together and he can’t even show you an ounce of kindness.

“I told you baby, it was a mistake!”

“No- No. No, a mistake is forgetting to turn off the sink, not leaving me outside in the cold with nothing but a broken phone.” Your voice drips with venom as the cold of the previous night envelops you in its memory, a reminder that this is for the best.

“Your phone isn’t broken, get over it y/n.” You glance down at his fist as it balls at his side.

“You shattered it.” You deadpan.

“Can we forget about the phone? For fuck’s sake.” He lifts his fist in the air to bring it up to his forehead as he attempts to calm himself down. “Look-” he shoots Sukuna a glance before smiling, his voice growing honeyed. “We’ll figure things out, okay? Why don’t you come in?”

You hesitate. You see the red flags as clear as day now that the fog has lifted, and you know Sukuna is grateful when you pleadingly look at him. His signal to come beat the shit out of your ex. Well, no, it isn’t. But he wishes it was.

Regardless, he’s up the front lawn to the door of the small house in an instant, standing behind you with all the self-control he can physically muster.

“We’re having a private conversation, would you mind-”

“Whatever you can say in front of me, you can say in front of him.” You insist, backing into Sukuna as your ex reaches for your arm. You’re thankful in this moment that your closest friend is nearly seven feet and built like a brick wall as it could never really matter who he’s up against, he’ll always be the scariest one in the room.

Your ex’s mouth curls into a snarl, eyeing Sukuna’s hands that rest easily on your upper arms.

“You’ve gotta be-” he grumbles to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand that isn’t blocking you from entering the house. “Come on baby, you know you belong with me and not-” he cuts himself off as he shoots Sukuna an icy glance.

You shift uncomfortably at the tone he uses as he says that you belong with him, growing uneasy the longer you’re in his presence. Steeling your resolve, you straighten yourself and muster as much confidence as you can.

“This isn’t about Sukuna. You left me outside in the cold last night and I called my best friend to get me,” you tell him without missing a beat. Sukuna is practically grinning behind you as your ex’s jaw clenches but you don’t see the exchange between the two men. “Oh, and I don’t belong with or to anyone.”

Sukuna squeezes your arm in reassurance.

“I need my keys and wallet. I’m taking my bike and some clothes.”

Your ex mulls over your words before relenting finally, just as you’re beginning to think you’ll be without belongings. “Fine, but he stays outside.”

You glance up at Sukuna, whose expression is unreadable. “Fine,” you agree, slipping from Sukuna’s grasp and into the house. Your ex goes to close the door in Sukuna’s face, but a steady hand stops him just as you dash out of sight into your old bedroom.

“Let go of the door, man.”

“Leave the door open, man,” Sukuna warns mockingly in a sneer.

“She’s my-”

“She’s not. She’s not yours. She doesn’t belong to you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Sukuna.” He rolls his eyes, pressing more of his weight against the door, but it’s nothing compared to the bulk Sukuna packs.

“Consider yourself lucky I’m not rearranging your face right now,” his deep eyes blaze as he leans closer to your ex, his words dangerously low. If ever Sukuna is thankful that he knows he’s a scary person, it’s right now as your ex flinches back and relents, leaving the door open and leaving Sukuna at the door.

Your ex disappears from Sukuna’s sight and he stands up straight, turning to the side as he stares at your bike. He knows you can handle yourself, but he still doesn’t love the prospect of you being alone with your ex for any period of time.

Sukuna especially hates how long it takes. He’s not sure how much you need to pack and he can’t make out whatever you’re talking about with your ex but each passing moment he grows less patient and less willing to wait outside.

Just as he’s thinking of stepping inside, he sees your tiny figure with a backpack and a suitcase, keys dangling from your fingers and your wallet held firmly in your hand. The relief on your face when you lock eyes with Sukuna is somewhat heartwarming, but what isn’t is the way your ex tries to grab your wrist as you make your way to the door.

You pull against him but his grip fastens.

Sukuna sees red. He sees red and he doesn’t think twice about stepping into what was once your house.

“Don’t touch her.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of Sukuna making his way towards you with gritted teeth. “No, no, no! Sukuna! It’s fine, I can handle this!” Your hand with your wallet and keys flies up as you maneuver yourself between him and your ex.

Your ex’s hand doesn’t loosen even when your arm physically blocks Sukuna from laying a beating on him.

You take a breath, looking between the two men. “I’m leaving. Please let go,” you say softly, so calmly it almost breaks Sukuna’s heart that your ex’s actions seem so normal to you.

“We aren’t done talking-”

“We are. I’ll be back for the rest of my things later.” You tug your wrist again, sending a pleading look to your ex, but his grip only tightens. “Please let go.”

“Y/n, please. Please, we can work this out.”

“Let go,” you tell him firmly, ignoring his words.

“Please-”

“I don’t know if you’re incapable of listening or if you just want your head bashed in, but I’d listen to her.” Sukuna’s voice is a warning, dripping with malevolence you’ve never heard from him before. His chest is pressed hard against your free hand and you aren’t sure you can hold him back much longer.

“Ryo,” you plead, looking between the two men as you try to pull your wrist again. Your ex’s hand twitches at Sukuna’s words before loosening and falling to his side. You breathe out a sigh of relief, glancing down at the bruising markings his fingers left behind.

“So he’s Ryo now, huh?”

You glare pointedly at your ex, knowing that one wrong word will have him with his face caved in.

Sukuna’s intense stare never once leaves your ex, but he does allow you to hand him your suitcase and gently tug his forearm to follow you out the door.

Your ex watches from the door as Sukuna follows you to your bike. His intent gaze has your hair standing on end but you choose to ignore the feeling in favor of hopping on your bike.

The sound of your bike roaring to life puts both you and Sukuna at ease and you ride down the driveway, stopping next to his bike. He jogs after you with your suitcase still in-hand.

Sukuna is quiet, which isn’t unusual for him but you can practically feel the anger coming off of him in droves like smoke. Kicking your bike’s stand out, you hop off and flip his Ducati’s storage compartment open, pulling out a couple of straps to secure your suitcase to the back of your bike.

“Ready?”

You pull your friend’s attention from your ex finally as your hand comes to rest on his bicep. His eyes travel from your face to your arm that rests on him, where he can see the way your wrist is reddened and sure to bruise.

Realizing the sight of your reddened arm has his jaw clenching with anger, you move it behind your back and out of sight.

“Kuna, please.”

His intense gaze examines yours as the breeze faintly ruffles his spiked hair. He’s completely still apart from the muscle working in his jaw as he thinks over his options at this moment, but his chest heaves as he sighs in exasperation and gives in.

“Whatever,” he growls, shooting a poisonous look back at the door that your ex hasn’t moved from. Sukuna haughtily pulls his helmet on over his head, flipping his visor down before getting on his bike and accelerating quickly.

Based on the way Sukuna weaves through traffic and carelessly speeds through lights, you know he’s furious. You pull your bike into the parking spot next to him a couple of minutes after he pulls in, finding him pacing in the parking garage.

Shutting off your bike and pulling off your helmet, you approach him with angled brows, trying to reassure him. “Thanks for coming with me, I appreciate it.” He’s blinded by rage and you’re not even sure if he hears you. “Kuna, I’m okay,” you insist, reaching out to put a hand on his arm but he still brushes past you.

Sighing, you unload your suitcase from the back of your bike and return the bungee cables to the storage compartment of the Ducati as you let Sukuna blow off some steam.

Once everything is ready to go up to Sukuna’s apartment, you turn your attention back to him.

“Can we go up to your place?”

“He hurt you,” Sukuna hisses with pupils the size of pinpricks. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know that anger was directed elsewhere.

“It’s nothing really, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Fucking asshole, I should have-”

“Nope, we’re not going into that. I don’t want to know what you think you should have done.”

You grab your suitcase and begin rolling it through the parkade to the elevator, relieved when you hear a frustrated grunt behind you and a pair of keys clinking. The ride up to his apartment is silent, shrouded in anger.

Really, you should be the angry one but if anything, you're more relieved. Relieved that you have someone like Sukuna to stay with, someone who’s so willing to come get you at three in the morning when you need him most.

Sukuna swings the door to his apartment open, slamming against the doorstop loudly before creaking shut. His hand flies to his pocket as he trudges across the apartment, tossing his leather jacket on the couch and leaning out the window as he lights a cigarette.

A puff of smoke leaves his mouth as he swings his head back with closed eyes.

Shaking your head, you decide not to give him a hard time for his bad habit and give him space as you busy yourself with setting the couch up nicely for yourself to sleep on given that you were now homeless, among other things.

Sukuna takes his time at the window, stubbing out his cigarette when it’s barely an inch long and finally approaching you from where you sit on the floor looking through your bag, taking inventory of what you have and what you’ll need to pick up eventually.

Your pretty face smiles up at him when his shadow blocks your view and he finds himself relaxing more from the sight of you than he had from the nicotine.

“Are you okay?” You tilt your head, noting that he seems more calm now and he nods.

“Should be askin’ you that.”

“I’m okay. I mean it,” you insist.

His eyes flicker down to your wrist again but he knows better than to doubt you and he knows you can handle the pain. Sitting down on the couch behind you, he leans back and watches you quietly.

“I got the things that were most important, but hopefully I can go back and grab everything else eventually,” you note, more to yourself than him. He still hums in acknowledgement. “Why’d you want my bike back so bad, by the way?”

Your friend leans forward on his knees. “So I can still go for rides with you.”

“What, do I make a bad backpack?” You tease with a grin that has Sukuna’s shoulders falling to his sides as his anger subsides completely.

“Hard to drive when you’re feelin’ me up, princess.”

Your lips purse as your cheeks redden, caught off-guard by his nonchalant smirk. You’d felt up his abs a bit during the ride to your old place, sure, but being called out still had the tips of your ears heating up.

You stubbornly avoid his gaze, going back to figuring out if you’d forgotten anything. Deep chuckles resonate from behind you as your new roommate ruffles your hair and gets to his feet.

“By the way we’re goin’ out tonight.”

You tilt your head, eyes following Sukuna as he saunters over to the fridge and pulls out an energy drink.

“Where’d you have in mind?” You ask curiously, not entirely sure you’re in the mood to go out.

“That new rom com movie or whatever that you wanted to see is showing tonight. I got tickets.” He reaches back into the fridge and pulls out your favorite beverage, tossing it to you.

You barely manage to catch it, mumbling a thank you. “I don’t really know if I’m up for it,” you admit, staring at the drink in your hands.

“I already bought the tickets,” he shrugs, laying back on the couch again. “Suck it up.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste but you know it’s likely for the best that you’re out of the house so you do, in fact, suck it up.

It quickly becomes time for the movie and you find yourself back in the parking garage a couple of hours before sunset.

“Can you drive?”

“You gonna feel me up again?” Sukuna raises a brow at you, but a hint of a smirk pulls at his lips.

“... Can I?”

Your confidence catches him off-guard and he blanches, his lips parting as he stares at you. His eyes flicker to your lips and that single action has your heart beating fast and hard in your chest. The fluttering in your stomach as you wait for him to react is enough to make you wretch and you consider yourself lucky that he seems to pull himself together as his lips tug upwards into a sly grin.

He takes a step forward, dipping his head down to whisper in your ear. “Don’t stray too low while I’m drivin’.”

You’re left choking on air as Sukuna’s tone sends a jolt of electricity straight up your spine, setting your entire body ablaze. Your eyes trail the length of his body, pausing as you watch him pull his leather jacket over his thin white shirt. The way his muscles ripple and tense with each movement has you swallowing hard as you realize just how built and toned he really is.

You’re thankful you aren’t caught and are spared from Sukuna’s teasing as you hop onto the back of his bike, purposefully making a show of feeling up his abs. Moving from his pecs, across the peaks and valleys of each set of muscles, down until you take pause as you feel the waist of his pants connect with the tips of your fingers.

Sukuna groans, looking over his shoulder before he puts on his helmet. “Not while I’m driving, got it?”

You nod at him, batting your eyelashes sweetly. He huffs, adjusting the crotch of his pants before pulling his helmet on. He waits for you to follow suit before pulling out of the parking garage and heading to the theater.

Sukuna’s warmth is both a beacon of hope and a searing flame to your skin. A comfort and an exciting new idea to explore. You hold onto him tightly, your body melting into his heat as he drives much more carefully with you hooked onto him than he had earlier in the day.

Sukuna pulls into a spot by the front door of the theater and waits for you to let go before hopping off of the bike himself.

“Popcorn?” He asks you mildly, hands in his pockets.

“Um, that’s alright.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I don’t need popcorn.”

“Don’t need or don’t want?”

You pause, your brow knit as you silently question what he means, but Sukuna’s seen this play out before with your ex and he wants to break this habit.

“Do you want popcorn, y/n?”

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly. “Yeah, it’d be nice.”

Sukuna nods, surprising you as he grabs not your forearm or bicep as he usually does, but your hand. His much larger, veiny hand folds over yours, his fingers tangling with yours. Your hand is so small in his and even the feeling of your hand against him feels like a reminder of just how cute you are to him.

Your cheeks are surely dusted in a red glow, but you don’t mind given the surprisingly pleasant eagerness in your chest.

With popcorn in-hand, Sukuna leads you into the theater, taking you to your seat and relaxing into the reclining chair. He lifts the arm rest between you, not once disconnecting your hands like it’s the most natural action in the world.

And in all honesty, it is. Everything with Sukuna is easy. It feels right. It feels right in a way you’re not familiar with and it’s exhilarating.

Given the cheesy scenario he set up for, you half-expect Sukuna to make a move during the movie, but his thumb simply continues to rub soothing lines over your knuckles.

It’s after the movie that he surprises you.

Bounding down the stairs ahead of Sukuna as you tug him along with you, you’re practically gushing about the movie that you’re positive he barely paid attention to. It isn’t his style of film but he doesn’t mind either way.

“-I mean come on, how can you not love Owen Wilson in that role?”

“Mm.”

“-and it’s so charming watching him start to learn and care about her world-”

“Mhmm.”

“-oh my god and when she realizes she loves him and she shows up at the tournament-”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Despite how little he has to say about the movie, he’s just happy you enjoyed it.

“-and when he gets her flooowers?-”

Sukuna chuckles as you continue to gush over the movie at him. Still hand-in-hand, he tugs you along, quietly listening to your rambles as he makes his way to his bike. His chest swirls with anticipation as you pay his actions no mind when he turns towards the storage compartment of his bike as you continue rambling on.

It takes only a moment for his hand to reach the delicate item he’s in search of, deftly wrapping two fingers around the dainty object. Keeping his hand behind him, he turns to you with a soft smile. Lidded eyes stare at you with mirth, an expression that isn’t typical for Sukuna, so your rambles begin to fade into silence as you tilt your head curiously at him.

“Flowers, hm?” He asks, pulling a beautiful, blooming red rose out from behind him. He holds it out to you, pulling you closer by the hand that’s still intertwined with his as you purse your lips in disbelief.

“I- I-” You stammer over your words as your mouth goes dry, eyes fixed on the gorgeous flower held in Sukuna’s fingers.

It’s almost a strange sight to behold- the same man you’d seen passed out on your couch dozens of times, the man you’d had to bail out of jail on more than one occasion, the same man who grumbled and complained every single time you went to Red’s Bar- now holding a dainty little rose for you.

“W- when did you even have time to get this?” You shake your head, it doesn’t matter. “Sukuna, this is so much I-”

His brows raise as your rambles begin again and although he’s flustered you more times than he can count over the years, he’s never seen you genuinely nervous like this.

“-you really didn’t have to do anything like this for me-”

“Y/n.”

“-taking me to the movies is already a big deal and I know the last day has been a hassle for you-”

“Y/n,” Sukuna chuckles this time, his grip on your hand tightening as he squeezes it in an effort to get your attention.

“-I didn’t get you anything, I don’t-”

“Y/n,” Sukuna leans down, capturing your lips against his. His lips are soft and the kiss is uncharacteristically sweet. His hand slides out of your grasp, sliding up your arm and coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you closer to him. He parts from your lips with a smirk. “Shut up, princess.”

You stare breathlessly at him, eyes flickering wildly between his eyes, his lips, before resting down on the rose again.

“Take the damn flower.”

“R-right!” You gingerly reach out, holding the stem as you bring it up to your nose. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“Well, someone had to,” it comes out as more of a grumble as his brow furrows, but his fingers curl into the skin of your waist as he speaks, betraying the meaning behind his words.

“Mhmm, someone.” You agree teasingly, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Kuna.” You rise up onto your tiptoes, resting a hand on his chest as you lean up to kiss him, just barely able to reach his jaw.

His chest vibrates in a content hum. “So short,” he mocks, tilting his head to meet your lips again. Pulling his other hand from his pocket, he pulls the flower from your fingers, setting it in the storage behind him and finding your waist to bring you flush against him.

Your hands slide up the length of his hard musculature until you find his neck. Your fingers tangle in the short hair at his nape and another hum slips from his lips, swallowed by your kiss.

He leans down to meet your height better as the kiss gains urgency, years of pent up emotions flooding from Sukuna’s every movement. His fingers curl into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Kuna?”

He grunts into the kiss, smirking against your lips when he slides a hand from your waist down to your hips.

“Can we-” you breathe out between kisses, “-go home?”

Sukuna parts from your lips, examining your expression with blown pupils, so wide you can barely see the deep color of his irises. He swallows hard, his chest rising and falling fast as he nods silently.

You let out a surprised squeal when he grabs you by the hips and effortlessly lifts you onto his bike.

“-can do it myself,” you insist but Sukuna doesn’t register your words, too caught up in the intoxication of your smell, your feel, your taste. He wants more.

Hopping on the bike in front of you, he waits for your helmet to be on before he starts his Ducati and throws his helmet on. Your hands take their place around his toned abdomen, sliding down without a moment’s thought.

“Behave,” Sukuna hisses loud enough that you hear him even over the sound of his bike’s engine. He doesn’t need your visor up to know you’re smiling innocently at him.

He clicks his tongue and speeds out of the parking lot back towards his apartment. Though he’s still more careful driving with his sweet little backpack clinging to him, you’re not oblivious to the fact that he is driving quicker than usual.

Relaxing against Sukuna’s toned back brings with it a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s strange, despite him speeding through traffic and the sparking tension between you both, it’s easy to close your eyes and relax against him.

It’s not a feeling you’ve had with your ex for a long time. Although you ignored the flags throughout your relationship and defended him when he didn’t deserve it, it wasn’t always that way, but Sukuna has always been a safe and worry-free escape from the world for you. Since the first day he drove into your life, since you first realized that Sukuna enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

He’s a hard book to read and an easy presence to be in.

Your eyes flicker open, not realizing you’d grown so relaxed holding onto him that he’d already pulled into his parking spot, parking beside your Kawasaki.

Sukuna instinctively moves to get off his bike, expecting you to follow him, but pauses when you move rather sluggishly behind him. Pulling his helmet off, he shakes his head in an effort to fix his hair before he eyes you over his shoulder.

“You gonna get off?”

To anyone else, it might come across as aggressive, but his tone is mild as ever.

“Sorry, Kuna.”

You exhale and push off the bike with a hand resting on Sukuna’s shoulder blade. He watches you curiously, tucking you under his shoulder and leading the way back up to his apartment.

Pulling out his keys in the elevator, he ducks his head to get a good look at your expression.

“Tired?”

“No! … Well, yeah, but I was just relaxing,” you tell him and he hums, his eyes swirling with mirth. You cross an arm over your chest, your breast pressing against your arm. His eyes flicker to the sight, pupils dilating as he swallows hard. “See something you like, Sukuna?”

Your lidded eyes and purring voice has the taller man teetering on the edge of self control. His mind reels with thoughts that aren’t appropriate for the elevator and the moment the door opens, he’s making his way to his apartment like a man on a mission.

Desire pools between your thighs at his eagerness, made more apparent in the way he fumbles at the door with his keys.

It’s not even a second after the door is closed and he maneuvers you against the door, helmets on the ground as his fingers move to flip the lock behind you before they travel up the side of your body, admiring your curves before he cups your face.

He captures your lips, hungry to taste you again. He wants to devour you, he wants to mark you and make you his. Your lips move in tandem with his, matching his fervor with equal eagerness.

Your fingers rake his chest, thumbs sliding over the length of his collarbones. The feeling of his broad chest beneath your hands drives you crazy and you press back against him, your breasts pressing against the expanse of his chest.

“Kuna, wait,” you breathe, chest heaving as you part from him. Vermillion irises lock on you as he pulls back, his fingers gripping your waist almost bruisingly. “This isn't…” You pause, your mouth opening and closing hesitantly.

“Out with it,” Sukuna encourages hoarsely.

You shoot him a wry smile at his blunt impatience. “This isn’t just a hookup for me, you know.”

He raises a brow at you. “You think that’s what this is for me?” You might even assume he sounds offended.

“No! No,” you clarify, shaking your head as your pretty eyes go wide. He rolls his shoulders, leaning his face closer to yours as he intently watches you. “I just… I-” you pause again, avoiding his intense gaze.

“It’s not a one night stand, y/n.” Sukuna’s pupils shrink as he speaks solemnly. He feels you relax in his grip, your eyes coming up to meet his. “Relax n’ let me take care of you.”

Your cheeks redden at your best friend’s boldness and you shuffle as you press your thighs together.

“I better not be your rebound, y’know.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice now, the elbow holding him up against the door sliding down as his face grows closer to you. God, he’s tall. He’s tall and built like a monster, and between the size of his hands, his muscles, not to mention his height… Your wide, almost timid eyes flicker down to his crotch. He catches the action and smirks. “Don’t get nervous now,” he leers.

“I’m not!” You squeak, the blush spreading to the tips of your ears. “And… you’re not a rebound.” You grab his shirt collar as you pull him in for a kiss, much sweeter than the covetous one you’d shared a minute ago.

Sukuna’s eyes flutter shut as he finds himself relaxing into your touch when you slide your hands up his neck and into his dark, undyed undercut.

“I like you, Ryo.” You admit when you pull back just enough for the words to reach his ears. His smirk can be felt against your lips.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” In true Sukuna fashion, that’s his way of reciprocating your admission, because he doesn’t do feelings. But you know. You know exactly what he means.

You grin against his lips, giggling like a giddy school girl who’s just seen her crush smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles at your sudden timid delight.

“You’re such a loser,” he chuckles, his hand moving from your waist to hold your chin. He kisses you softly, your giggles persisting against his lips. Your fingers curl gleefully in his hair when he pulls back with impishly narrowed eyes. “You’re makin’ it hard to kiss you.”

“Sorry,” you chirp, your eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s just cute- you’re cute.”

“Me?” He pulls back, standing at his full height and making a point of showing off his broad shouldered stance. “Cute?” He tilts his head quizzically as if to prove a point but if anything, you find the strands of hair falling out of place over his forehead cute.

“Yeah, you.”

“I’ll show you cute,” he grumbles, and suddenly you’re lifted off the ground effortlessly. You shriek in surprise in his ear as you grasp at the back of his leather jacket. He mumbles something about you being a brat before dumping you on the couch and crawling over your body.

His form looms over you and you’re both suddenly very aware of the immense size difference between you both, something which might be one of Sukuna’s favorite things. He loves how tiny you are, how easily he can handle you.

Sukuna takes pause, his usually dour gaze filled with longing, admiring what he’d wanted for so long as you stare back at him with wide eyes. He loves the fiery attitude you always sport, but this flustered side of you is new to him and he drinks it in like a drug.

Your chest rises and falls quickly, eyes darting from his arms that cage you in, down the expanse of his chest that peeks through his V-neck, back up to that alluring tattooed face. His sharp jaw, his ever-present smirk, his intense stare, it’s all so goddamn sexy and you’re flustered to silence like a deer in the headlights being hunted by a wolf.

“Funny, you seem to have lost your bark,” he comments tantalizingly, dipping down to kiss your jaw. Now with your body trapped beneath him, he feels the way your hips twitch. “What happened to the brat from earlier?”

You swallow down a moan as his voice sets you ablaze. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, fingers gripping him tightly. You take a breath to readjust and bat your lashes up at him as you push through the sudden nerves that seem to chase you. “Brat? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuna.”

Sukuna grins, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “There she is,” he hums, bringing himself down to his elbows to kiss you wholly. His lips move urgently against yours, tongue swiping your lower lip almost immediately. He groans when you grant him access by parting your lips, drinking in your taste. You gasp in surprise as his tongue piercing grazes your tongue, a strangely pleasurable new feeling.

Your hands slide from his biceps up his neck, keeping him close, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss. When you shift beneath him to clench your thighs as heat pools in your lower abdomen, he groans.

“Fuck,” he hisses into your mouth, catching you by surprise when he nips your lower lip. He pulls back for only a moment but in that split second the look on your best friend’s face tells you everything you need to know. You’re his prey, and he’s about to devour you.

“Kuna-!” You gasp in surprise when kisses down the side of your neck, leaving behind purple bruises as he sucks and nips at the side of your neck. Reaching the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, his teeth graze your skin before gently sinking in, testing the waters with a glance at your face.

You whine, squirming beneath him.

Sukuna withdraws with a smirk, running his tongue soothingly over the reddened skin. “Kinky little thing, aren’t you?” He purrs, rolling his hips against you so roughly you whimper. “Shit,” he mumbles and returns to his ministrations, his hips rolling against yours like a dog in heat.

“Sh-shut up, Kuna…” you groan, rutting your hips up into him. His movement stutters with pleasure and he nips your skin again in response. “Darlin’, hold onto me,” his husky voice commands against the skin of your ear.

“Hm? Ah-!”

Sukuna slides a muscular arm beneath the small of your back, pressing you to him and urging your arms to cling to his shoulders. You wrap your legs around his waist as he picks you up, holding your small frame to him in one arm.

He carries you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him as you press kisses to his collarbone, leaving behind marks of your own. He hums, plopping you down onto the bed and standing to shrug his jacket off and unbuckle his belt, letting it and his jeans drop to the floor.

You’re sure your face is red as a tomato, pupils dilated as you admire his body, your gaze landing on the boner that’s pulling the fabric of his black Calvin Klein boxers taut. You swipe your tongue out over your lips, bringing your lower lip between your teeth.

Your best friend grins, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. You let out a surprised gasp, gripping at the sheets at either side of you.

“G’nna take my time n’ treat her right,” he purrs, falling over you as your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He could be talking about you or your pussy, it doesn’t matter either way.

He lifts your shirt up over your head and you arch your back to make it easier. You’re so pliant for him and he adores your obedience, adores the desperate, lustful look in your eyes.

“Shit, girl,” he mumbles, his eyes eating you alive on the spot as he admires your body. You’re so small in comparison to the way his figure looms over you.

Catching your gaze, he squeezes one of your breasts, slipping the other from the fabric of your lace bra to press the warm flat of his tongue to your nipple. You jolt as pleasure buzzes through your body, moaning when he sucks the hardened bud between his lips. The cool metal of his piercing intensifies the pleasure when it grazes your skin and causes goosebumps to raise on your arms.

Your hands find his hair, tugging enough that Sukuna smirks against the plush of your skin.

“So needy,” he hums. Your thighs clench around his waist as the vibration of his voice against your skin rocks through you.

Your lidded eyes stare down at him and you take the opportunity to tug his shirt off. He complies, tossing it across the room. His heavily tattooed chest, abdomen, arms- he’s gorgeous and you can barely believe he’s standing over you right now, eyes for only you.

“Kuna,” you mumble between moans, jerking as he flicks your nipple with a smug grin.

He mutters out a ‘what’ before sinking his teeth into your breast. You gasp, eyes widening and bucking your hips against him as your head swings back into the mattress. As you arch your back for him, Sukuna deftly slips your bra off.

“Stop being a tease,” you plead, the hard length of his cock twitching against your core as you tighten your legs.

“A tease? What do you want then, hm?” His voice is cocky, knowing. He wants you on your knees begging.

“Kunaaaa,” you groan, laying the back of your arm across your eyes, suddenly timid.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, pulling your arm away from your face. He grabs your other arm and holds them both down above you with one large hand. “What do you want, brat?” His face is inches away from yours now and he rolls his hips against your core teasingly despite the ache he feels.

“I-” you pant, pausing to look at his intense stare. “Wan’ you to eat me out.”

“Yeah?” He hums, lowering his head so that his lips brush yours. “Thought you had manners?”

“Please, Kuna,” you beg in a whiny voice. Sukuna smirks, getting to his knees at the edge of the bed and draping his arm over your hips to hold them down as he sprawls your legs out before him.

“Fuckin’ soaked for me,” he groans, his breath warm against the fabric of your panties. He wastes no time hooking his fingers through the fabric to pull them aside. His digits brush your folds as you buck your hips in a desperate attempt at friction.

Chuckling softly, Sukuna languidly licks up your cunt, savoring your taste with the slow movement. You squirm beneath him, raking your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips towards his tongue.

“Patience,” Sukuna hums and flicks his tongue out to circle your clit. His piercing grazes the sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes go wide with pleasure.

“Such a- hah- asshole- ah-!” Sukuna doesn’t give you the satisfaction of teasing him as he pushes his long tongue into your dripping chasm, your walls clenching around the muscle in ecstasy.

Sukuna groans as your fingers tug his hair. He lets you buck your hips into his mouth and ride his face, relishing in the sound of your moans and pants.

The feeling of his tongue inside you is already so intense that when he brings a thumb up to flick your clit, the sudden desire that pulses through your body straight to the knot tightening in your core has you bucking your hips in surprise. His grip on your hips fastens as he holds you down again, keeping you from squirming out of his grasp.

The desire and heat pooling in your core quickly grow in intensity as Sukuna’s experienced tongue plunges through your folds, drinking up your arousal.

“K-Kuna- I- I’m gonna-” your words are mere babbles as you try to speak through the bliss, your orgasm steadily approaching.

“Let me taste it, princess.”

The feeling of his voice with his tongue within you, the way his piercing suddenly flicks your gummy walls, his thumb on your clit, the way he calls you princess, it’s so much that your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, causing your body to jolt and jerk against the mattress.

Sukuna’s thumb leaves your clit as he holds down one of your thighs to keep you from crushing his head as you moan and pant out his name while your body spasms. He slows his ministrations to drink every last drop of your orgasm before flicking your clit with his tongue one last time, pleased when you jolt.

He pushes himself up, wiping your slick from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Shit, you’re hot,” he mutters. You barely have a moment to come down from your high before he’s pulling you to the floor by your waist, dropping you on your knees. His hungry expression and throbbing cock tell you everything you need to know as you look up at him through your lashes.

Your fingers curl around the waist of his boxers as you pull them down his thighs. His rock-hard erection slaps against his abs as you free it from the confines of the fabric. Sure, Sukuna is a monster of a man at nearly seven feet tall of solid muscle mass and you’d felt him grinding against you, but your eyes still widen at the sight of his cock.

You feel your mouth water as you stare at the angry red tip, veins protruding and pulsing with desire on either side.

“Think you can take it?” He asks and although it’s a teasing and husky tone he uses with you, he is genuinely asking as well. You nod eagerly and he grins. “Good girl,” he purrs.

Bringing a hand up to his cock, you wrap your fingers daintily around the thick base, looking up at those glimmering vermillion eyes as you run your tongue from base to tip, eliciting a heavy groan from the man.

“Christ,” he groans, his head flying back in pleasure. You smirk and take the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the leaking slit before teasingly pulling back with a pop!

His hips shudder as he does everything in his power to stop himself from using your mouth, to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat with no warning.

“Needy, Ryo?”

You don’t expect the way that sets him off, lights his desire ablaze anew as he fists your hair and leans down with a clenched jaw to look you in the eyes.

You whimper in surprise, closing your thighs from where you sit on your knees as your cunt pulses from the way he handles you so roughly.

“Let’s get it straight right now which of us is needy,” he growls with a smirk, eyeing the way you shift your thighs. “You gonna be a good little slut for me?”

You nod up at him, pupils dilating as he tugs your hair. He grins, narrowing his eyes. “Words, woman.”

“Yes, Kuna,” you purr back at him. The wild look in his eyes intensifies as he receives your consent and pushes the tip of his cock past your lips. His jaw goes slack in pleasure as you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up his precum.

“Shit,” he groans out, watching as you take his cock without breaking eye contact while he thrusts further into your mouth. You gag when he reaches the back of your throat, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes and you shut them as you take his length. “Ah ah, look at me. Takin’ me so well.”

Sukuna knows you can’t take his entire cock in your mouth, he knows there’s a fairly large size difference between the both of you. It doesn’t stop the way he pushes your head down on his cock watching the way tears run down your cheeks as you so obediently let him handle you.

Saliva runs down the length of his cock and you bring a hand up to the base, pumping what you can’t fit in your throat. His hand pulls your mouth off his cock, adjusting his hand to hold your head back against the bed so that he can relentlessly fuck into you, massive cock hitting the back of your throat and gagging you with each thrust.

He throws his head back as you pump the base of his shaft while he fucks you, being his perfect little doll. His abs flex and twitch when your muscles tense as you swallow around him.

“Such a nasty fuckin’ throat.” He barely gives you any time to breathe as his pace increases, along with the pace of your hand to match. His chest heaves as he moans, letting you dig your nails into his thigh for purchase while he uses your throat.

His cock twitches as you moan when he hits the back of your throat and his eyes shut tight with pleasure, jaw going slack. When he jolts again with the next thrust, you know he’s close so you hum contentedly, sending vibrations up his shaft and causing his hips to jerk erratically as he chases his high.

“F-fuck,” he groans out before his hips stutter and your eyes widen when his cum unloads down your throat, thick ropes of salty sweet arousal swallowed as he keeps himself warm within your mouth. You move your lips slowly around his girth, milking every last drop of his orgasm. You pull back after a moment to allow yourself a chance to breathe, panting as you stare up at him.

His chest heaves and his cock twitches every few seconds, telling of the orgasm he’s just had. Still, his eyes burn with desire when he finally opens them.

He reaches down to pick you up and sets you at the edge of the bed on all fours roughly.

He squeezes your ass before slapping it once. Your body jolts in surprise as you gasp.

“Princess, you on any birth control?”

“Mhmm, you can go raw.”

You hear him mumble a curse beneath his breath. “You tell me if it’s too much,” he tells you, catching the way you glance over your shoulder at him and nod.

In spite of the rough way he uses and handles you, he’s still very attentive to your pleasure and comfort.

He pays no mind to the fact that you actually liked the panties you’re wearing as he physically tears them off of your body, tossing the ripped fabric aside. You whine in complaint, shooting him a look from over your shoulder.

“I’ll buy ya new ones,” he huffs, returning his attention to your body.

Squeezing your ass in both palms, he leans down and buries his face in your pussy, licking a stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. He hums at how wet you still are, moving a hand up your spine to hold you down and keep you arched for him.

His teeth sink into the plump of your ass and you squeak at the sudden burst of pain that quickly twists to pleasure when he soothingly laps over the mark he’s left.

He slides his hand down from squeezing your plump ass to glide a finger through your lubricated folds. You lean into his touch, gasping when he suddenly plunges one long finger into your lubricated pussy.

Your walls are tight as they pulse around his long finger. He eases another digit in, pumping them slowly as he realizes just how tight you are.

“Relax, darlin’,” he hums soothingly, curling his fingers against your walls a couple of times before he finds your g spot. His voice is such a stark contrast to his rough tendencies, but it’s soothing to have him so worried for your comfort.

“Ryo, f-fuck-” you moan out as his fingers languidly curl against your gummy walls which gradually relax against his long fingers. With a couple more pumps of his fingers, he pulls them out, leaving you pulsing around nothing and craving his touch as you shift your hips in search of friction with a whine.

Sukuna grunts when he lines himself up with your plump cunt, pumping himself a couple of times before he slowly eases his tip into you. Your eyes widen at the delicious burn of the stretch, fingers curling in the sheets as you adjust to his massive size. And god this is only the tip.

You cry out, the feeling of his girthy cock filling you up blurring your vision as the pain transitions to pleasure before the process begins all over again with each movement he makes. His cock throbs, making you feel impossibly full.

Sukuna wants to ruin you, he wants to tear you apart on his cock, but he doesn’t want to hurt his sweet little best friend, so he watches the way your face contorts in mild pain, waiting for your expression to relax as he slowly feeds you his cock, inch by inch.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’,” Sukuna purrs, his thumb stroking your back in contrast to the fact that he’s still holding you down and keeping you arched for him.

His cock head brushes your cervix, pressing against it as he bottoms out, fingers curling against your back at how tight you’re squeezing him as he waits for you to adjust.

Your shoulders relax beneath his touch and you whimper as he slides his cock out to the tip, setting a moderate pace so as not to shock you. The feeling of his thick, veiny cock is like nothing you’ve ever experienced, his size just so much to take that you moan and whine with each thrust of his cock into your tight hole.

You grip at the sheets beneath you, gasping as Sukuna speeds up his thrusts and presses you hard into the mattress, muffling your moans.

“Kuna- mmph,” you let out a muffled whimper, jolting when he slaps your ass roughly, no longer holding back.

“F-fuckin’- shit-” he groans, his fingers gripping your skin bruisingly as he holds you in place. He leans forward, sliding his hand from your back to your neck, restricting your airflow subtly. Pleasure tears through your spine as he leans forward and pushes in deeper with each thrust, pulling moans and screams of his name from deep in your throat.

“K-Kuna, I’m- hah- close,” you whimper, words muffled by the sheets beneath you. He loosens his fingers from your neck, grabbing your waist with both hands as he pulls your ass closer to him, pounding into you faster as he chases his own high.

“Shit, y’r such a good lil slut for me,” he groans, feeling your walls tighten around his thick length with each thrust.

Pleasure tightens deep within your core, knotting and curling as he fucks you so deliciously that your juices are already dripping from your cunt around his hilt. His eyes lock on the sight and he throws his head back in pleasure, his own high not far behind.

With one last hit against your cervix, your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before as your entire body shakes and jolts, your knees and legs giving out.

If Sukuna wasn’t holding you up, you surely would have collapsed as stars cloud your vision and you moan his name like a mantra. Your eyes are glossy and your mind delirious as he continues to fuck you through your high, your walls milking him in a way that has him quickly climbing towards his release.

With only a few more erratic thrusts that have you whining under him in overstimulation, his cock twitches suddenly as his entire load fills you up, mixing with your juices and dripping out of your swollen lips down your thighs that Sukuna is still holding up.

He moans as he slowly lets your body go and you sink to the mattress, panting beneath him as his cock slips from between your thighs. His eyes flicker to your pretty pussy, his cum leaking out with each pulse of your walls. His chest heaves as well as he slowly gets to his feet and walks to the side of the bed, sliding up against the headboard.

Sukuna pulls your body up from where you’ve collapsed, wrapping his arms around you as his sweat-slicked skin sticks to yours. He’s much gentler now, looking you over for any signs that he might have hurt you accidentally, but when you finally open your eyes, they’re glossy with pleasure and filled with adoration.

He can’t help the way he genuinely smiles, not a common thing for the tepid biker, but when you grin and giggle in return, it makes his heart jump.

He practically turns to putty in your hands and as you silently bask in the afterglow of the best sex of your life and lean into Sukuna’s embrace.

“Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” He asks after a moment and you’re surprised by the way his fingers softly graze your skin.

“You were great Kuna, don’t worry,” you answer, yawning afterwards.

He hums in relief, leaning his head back for a moment before taking it upon himself to get you cleaned up before you pass out. Grabbing a towel, he wipes your thighs and tosses the towel in a hamper at the edge of the room before pulling the covers over your figure and crawling in behind you.

“Ryo?”

Sukuna hums quizzically.

“Do I get to know how long now?”

“You’re a brat,” he growls in your ear as he pulls you flush against his chest, his arms folded around your middle.

“Yeah yeah, just answer the question,” you grouse, rolling your eyes. You have an inkling of a feeling that you know when he realized his feelings for you, but you’re curious nonetheless.

He sighs, knowing you’ll never let him live this down. “Dunno. It’s been a while,” he avoids the question.

You flip in his arms to face him with raised brows. He groans, avoiding your gaze.

“I guess around the time you got with your ex,” he admits, his eyes locked on the wall behind you as he tucks your head under his chin to avoid your intent gaze.

“Is that why you stopped seeing people?”

“You noticed?”

“Kuna, you had a new girl under your arm every time I saw you for a while.”

He grunts, pulling you tighter to his body.

Giggling, you kiss his collar bone. “That’s sweet.”

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls heavily as he lets out a long sigh. You can practically feel the way his cheeks are heating up as you tease him, something that you’d only managed a handful of times in all the years you’ve known him.

“Sorry, am I embarrassing the big bad motorcycling bad boy?” You push, squeaking in protest as Sukuna wastes no time in shoving you away from him in an attempt to push you off the bed. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry!” You insist, looking to him for mercy as you cling to his arms, clutching desperately at the flexed muscles.

“And?”

“And…” you search for the words he’s looking to hear in his eyes, gripping his arms tighter. “I won’t do it again?”

“And?”

“I’m sorry I ate the rest of your leftovers this morning?”

His brow furrows. Oh shit.

“I mean… no I didn’t. They’re still there,” you mumble, avoiding his judgemental gaze guiltily.

Sukuna’s hold on your shoulder begins to lax as you teeter at the edge of the bed, threatening to drop you to the floor. You scramble to try to grip him tighter.

“I’ll buy you new food!”

Sukuna sighs and drags you back to him. You let out a relieved puff of air against his chest, snuggling back into his warmth. “Jus’ wanted you to say when it was for you.”

You tilt your head up at him, only able to see his chin. “When what was?”

“You know. When you realized what you think of me or whatever.” Sukuna’s gruff tone is telling that he isn’t used to such sincere conversations. Although you’ve known him a long time and he’d told you about damn near every sexual encounter he’s had, Sukuna’s most record-breaking relationship was a shocking three months.

Of course, Sukuna isn’t a romantic, and she didn’t know him well enough to know that he was putting in effort, so it didn’t last long.

“Oh. When I realized I like you?”

He grunts.

You hum in thought, moments throughout your friendship scrolling through your mind like a slideshow.

Of course, your forefront thought is when Sukuna first stepped off that stupidly well taken care of Ducati and surprised you when he managed to not only get you home on a running bike, but let you buy him a drink. He’s always been ridiculously attractive, but no, those weren’t feelings.

You think of all the times you hung out with friends and they would point out his change in behavior. You’d always think on the statement, watch the way that aloof look of his turns mild when he faces you, but you didn’t want to think about it too much.

You ponder on the time you’d called him on a whim early in your friendship when your date had bailed on you. Sukuna did not want to see the cheesy romance movie you had tickets for, but he’d sucked it up and shown up. You’d offered to buy him dinner as a thank you, but he paid regardless. It was the kind of thing a real date would do, but he’d complained so much you brushed the thought away.

When you were entirely too obsessed with Game of Thrones and insisted he be your king in a big fur cloak for Halloween, maybe then something had changed.

“You want me to be some guy from the show you like?” He’d grumbled and guffawed over having to dress up at all, insisting he’d been planning to put in minimal effort.

“Pleaaase, Kuna?” You were practically on your knees by the time he’d agreed with a roll of his eyes. “You’d make a good Robb Stark,” you insist before second-guessing yourself. “Well, if he was grumpy and kind of a dick.” You shrug, grinning up at him as he shoots you a begrudging look through narrowed eyes.

It only takes you a few days to put together the costume given the abundance of medieval king and knight costumes around.

His arms cross over his rugged chest, the fabric of his shirt pulled taut by the movement. “You can’t be serious.” He stares at the tight faux leather coat you hand him with a scowl.

“He wears something similar!”

“I’m not wearing this.”

“Please, you said you would!” You pout at him as you sport your best puppy dog eyes.

“No.”

You jut your bottom lip out, taking a step towards him as you shove the leather top to his chest. His eyes narrow, gears turning in his head until he shuts his eyes, giving in.

Your eyes light up as he pulls the top from you, groaning as he pulls it on over his shirt. It’s tight on him, which you expected given Sukuna’s sheer size, but it’s a strangely hot look on your rugged best friend. Even more so when he lets you drape the cape over his shoulders and set a cute little crown on his head.

“No, absolutely not,” he hisses, slapping your hand away when you try to clip the crown in place with a bobby pin.

“You’re such a pain,” you tease as you try again, holding an extra pin between your teeth.

Standing back, you admire your work as you receive a very unamused look in return. Sukuna’s build makes for a very kingly stature in spite of the contrasting tattoos and it makes him hot. In fact, you’re half afraid someone will whisk him away at the Halloween party given how nicely he’s cleaned up.

Your lips twitch downwards at the thought. You don’t want him to be whisked away. You want your king by your side.

“So?”

Snapping you from your thoughts, your eyes light up again. “You look great,” you tell him with a grin. His eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize.

He hums, examining your expression. “Well, go get ready then. Gonna sweat through all this leather n’ shit.”

“Oh like you aren’t used to leather,” you roll your eyes, but you oblige, getting your matching Talisa Stark outfit on.

When you return to Sukuna sitting on his couch, you muster your best impression of your character. “My king?”

Your best friend’s attention turns to you, eyes widening as you approach him in a floor-length queen’s gown with a matching gray cloak and a crown pinned into your hair. “Shit, y’ look good,” he breathes out.

Your cheeks heat up and you scratch at the back of your neck. “Thanks, Kuna.” You clear your throat and your mind to the best of your ability as you offer him a hand. “Ready?”

He hums, taking your hand before grabbing his keys and offering you his arm. “My queen?”

You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the first spark. The first real spark. As he loosened up throughout the night and repetitively called you his princess, you knew you were spent. Each and every time he used the name had you giggling up a storm and while you’d brushed it off as intoxication at the time, you knew the truth deep down.

So when he’d returned to his aloof self the following morning, you swallowed down your feelings.

You couldn’t bear the thought of losing your best friend and he didn’t have a good track record with relationships. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared, even now.

“Halloween,” you utter finally, unsure of just how long you’ve been silently contemplating an answer in his arms.

“Figures,” his chest rumbles in brief laughter.

“You knew?”

“Nah, thought it was the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. That’s why I started dating other people.”

Sukuna doesn’t respond but he buries his face into the crown of your head, drinking in your warmth, your intoxicating scent, and your soft skin against his as he closes his eyes.

No more other people, you’re his.

“Was it me callin’ you my princess?” He asks of the night you realized you’d caught feelings.

“That, and you make a good Robb Stark.”

He snorts. “I remember being told I was a dick.”

You shrug, smiling against the warm skin of his chest. “I don’t retract that statement.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and warmth spreads through your body as you relax against him, eyes closing as exhaustion spreads across you like a warm blanket. You know the kiss is a sassy retort, but it shamelessly works on you.

“Fine. I retract my statement.”

“That’s my princess.”

–

“Can you stop moving so much?”

Unsurprisingly, Sukuna’s got an attitude today and he absolutely plans on making it your problem as he huffs.

Your gloved hands work carefully to thoroughly cover every last strand of his short hair with dye. You know very well the only reason he’s being such a menace today is because you’d suggested a change in color and he’s afraid it’ll look bad.

In all your years of knowing him, he’s always had the same pink hair, so you were thrilled he was allowing you the honor of dying it back to its original color, black. You’d actually insisted on orange or red, but black was the only thing he was willing to compromise on.

You make your way back around him and find his scowling face looking up at you. Covering the last few strands of hair over his forehead, you boldly sit on his lap.

His demeanor changes in an instant as you straddle him and his hands eagerly find your hips and begin roaming up your waist and back down to your thighs. You shoot him a warning glance as you accidentally smudge some black dye on his forehead, but he pays you no mind as he continues his ministrations.

“Kuna,” you warn sternly, trying to wipe off the black marking before it leaves a stain, but it’s too late. You sigh and look over your work.

“Just a quickie, c’mon,” he insists with a grin.

“I don’t want to be covered in black dye,” you retort and Sukuna groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “How long do I gotta wait?”

“Thirty minutes.”

He frowns, eyes following your movements as you pull off your gloves and throw them in the trash of your shared apartment. He can’t for the life of him tear his eyes from you as you proceed to wash your hands before grabbing a damp towelette to wipe at his forehead.

Suddenly feeling like a child as you take care of the marking on his forehead, he swats at your hand.

“You’re a menace,” you mutter, avoiding his hand with practiced precision as you wipe away any traces of hair dye from his face.

He smirks, he likes the way you tease him and if anything it only makes him want to bend you over the table more.

Still, when you pull back to inspect his face and leave a gentle peck on his lips, he knows you don’t mind his attitude.

You know it’s all a ruse of sorts. Not around others, but around you it is.

Dating him for so many years came with its fair share of complications, especially given that Sukuna’s communication skills were about as good as those of a rock. He often didn’t pick up on small signs that you were bothered by things and vice versa, as he’s a tough book to read.

Regardless of any small arguments, nothing ever got out of hand surprisingly. You can’t imagine your life if Sukuna hadn’t shown up to get you the night your ex kicked you out. What Sukuna lacked in the department of emotional understanding, he made up for with his actions.

Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.

Each and every ‘I love you’ is met with a kiss, a squeeze of your arm, a tug towards him.

Sukuna has his own way of showing you he loves you.

He picks you up from work with flowers, shocking those around you when the grumpy-looking tattooed man hands you flowers that surely won’t make it home in great condition on his bike, but it doesn’t matter.

He runs you a bath when he fucks you into oblivion and your legs give out. It may be his own hand that inflicted your weakness, but it doesn’t matter because he shows you just how much he cares for you through his aftercare routine.

He makes your coffee with far too much milk and sugar for his own taste and complains about it the whole time, but it doesn’t matter because he still does it every morning for you.

Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.

When it comes time to wash his hair, he closes his eyes when you help him wash it in the sink. Your fingers move so delicately, taking care to wash out all the dye.

When he dries his hair with a towel and sees the way you delight at the sight of his freshly jet-black hair, he chuckles.

“Why do you never grow your hair out?” You ask, running your hands through his spiked hair. The color suits him and brings out his eyes in the most stunning way, you’re sure you have stars in your eyes from the way you’re staring at him.

“Dunno. The other color looks good,” he shrugs.

“It does!” You agree with a grin, “but so does this!” You insist. “It’s hot.”

He hums, looking himself over in the mirror. In truth, he doesn’t mind it. He only really indulged you because you’d insisted, but it worked out given what he had in mind for the night. It would look good in photos.

“When is Shiu getting here?” You ask curiously, interrupting Sukuna’s thoughts as your short arms wrap around his middle from behind.

“Hour from now.”

You gasp suddenly. “I need to clean up.”

“I can clean you up,” Sukuna smirks, lifting his arms in an attempt to see your face from where you stand behind him.

“Kunaaa,” you whine. “I need time to get ready.”

He groans dramatically. “Fine,” he grumbles, watching as you prance away happily to get ready.

You, Sukuna, Choso, Toji, Shiu, and Uraume were all going out in celebration of Toji’s newest addition to his family, a young boy. It was surprising that he was the first to settle down, but when you’d met his wife, you could see that she was his world, the way he relaxed at her touch and his own edge calmed in the same way Sukuna’s does around you.

Sukuna lays on his bed, watching as you choose a gorgeous black dress that hugs your curves so delectably that he wants to tear it off of you then and there. The whole time, he fumbles with something in his pocket, grateful when you don’t notice the small box accidentally fall from his grasp and onto the bed.

You chat with him about your work the whole time. Sukuna’s mind is elsewhere but given that he’s never all that chatty, you don’t notice. Looking yourself over in the mirror, you let out a relieved breath when you manage to be ready with only a couple of minutes to spare.

“Y’ look gorgeous.” Sultry words are whispered in your ear, followed up by a kiss to your neck as your boyfriend comes up behind you. His hands rest softly on your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder, bending down to your height.

You watch his actions from the mirror, the way his lidded eyes look over the curves of your figure, the way he slides his arms so delicately around your middle to envelop you in a tight hug, it’s these moments that you treasure the most.

The quiet moments where you simply enjoy one another’s presence.

Your lives are so busy that you don’t always get time to yourselves, so melting into his arms in that moment, you wish it would last forever.

Of course forever is a long time, and Shiu certainly doesn’t have the patience to wait in his car that long for you both. You’re not entirely sure why Sukuna doesn’t want to take your bikes, but you don’t push the subject. Your boyfriend’s mind is a mysterious place.

Your group gathers at a restaurant that’s a bit fancy for everyone’s tastes, but Uraume had insisted on it given the occasion. The real surprise was that Sukuna had dressed up a bit as well, sporting a sleek black pair of slacks, a black long sleeve button-up, and a red tie. His ensemble went well with your black dress.

Over the years, Sukuna’s friends had become your friends, long before you started dating, even.

Choso and Yuji were like your little brothers, and Uraume and Toji your closest drinking buddies. They got along surprisingly well with your friends too, especially Choso and Yuji who, unlike Sukuna, seemed to have a talent for getting along with everyone. Shiu generally only tagged along when Toji was around, but their banter was always welcome.

As Toji shows off photos of his song Megumi alongside his daughter Tsumiki, you notice Sukuna whispering something to Choso, casting oddly uneasy glances in your direction. Frowning, you glance over yourself once as though there’s something wrong with your outfit. No… it looks fine. So what’s Sukuna being so secretive about?

You brush it off as nothing, sure you’re overthinking things… until he pulls Toji aside after the man finishes showing off photos of his son.

You tilt your head quizzically to Uraume as you lean over towards them, ensuring Sukuna can’t hear you.

“Is Kuna acting weird to you?”

“Yes,” Uraume follows your gaze, narrowing their eyes. “Perhaps he misses Toji?”

“Are we talking about the same person?” A small smirk quirks up the corners of your lips.

Uraume laughs lightly with you. “You’re right,” they agree, but the thought doesn’t leave your mind.

It’s not like Sukuna doesn’t have off days like everyone else, but this is a strange change of demeanor for him. He seems strangely fidgety, as though he can’t sit still. His leg had bounced under the table throughout most of dinner and he was strangely eager to get the bill.

He had been horny all day, the best guess you have is that maybe it’s that and he wants to get home.

Still, it doesn’t explain him being so secretive throughout the night. In fact, he’d barely spoken a lick to you. Which isn’t entirely uncommon, but in place of words he would normally find comfort in your touch. Yet tonight it felt as though you’d hardly seen him despite sitting next to him most of the night.

You resort to asking him about it later, though an uneasy feeling tugs at you the more you notice it.

You’re almost grateful the dinner is over when it is as you intertwine your fingers with Sukuna like nothing is wrong. Shiu leads the way across the expanse of grass by the restaurant to his car one lot over, chatting with Toji as you and your boyfriend trail behind.

With Choso and Uraume a short distance behind you, you figure now is as good of a time to ask as any.

“Is everything alright, baby?” You tilt your head to look at your boyfriend.

Something glimmers in his eyes, an emotion you don’t recognize. That’s odd.

“‘Course.”

Well, that’s not reassuring.

“Okay… Nothing’s wrong?”

He shoots you a small smirk, kissing the top of your head.

“Nothin’s wrong, princess. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

You sigh, unable to help the feeling that he has something up his sleeve, but also able to recognize that whatever he’s plotting, he clearly has no intention of telling you. Regardless, you’re relieved that his nonchalant attitude seems to have returned. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about after all.

You miss the way he glances between the two groups, nodding to both as you sigh and give in.

“Alright, Kuna. I love you.”

Sukuna stops to face you and you blink at him perplexedly. Time seems to stand still as his chest rises and falls so quickly, he’s sure you can hear his heart beating out of his chest as he fumbles in his pocket for a moment.

You open your mouth to question him but your words die on your tongue when your boyfriend swallows hard before making a quick movement down onto one knee and your eyes go wide, your heart pounding in tandem with his.

It’s just the two of you in that moment, all sounds drowned out by beating hearts, lights and movement a blur behind you both. Everything is just Sukuna. Just you.

“Y/n,” he begins hoarsely. His voice shakes slightly and he curses himself for it but he doesn’t dare look away from your gorgeous wide eyes.

Your lips part, a lump forming in your throat. It feels as though it could choke you and you swallow hard but it only seems to encourage the tears you had yet to notice welling in your eyes.

“I had this whole speech planned,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Practiced n’ everything.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you bring one up to your mouth to suppress your shock and awe when he pulls out a small red velvet box.

“But I don’t think that shit's for me. So I decided to keep it simple.”

Nestled delicately within the box is a gorgeous silver ring with a beautiful diamond held delicately in the center. The ring splits into three separate parts just before the gem that all twist with smaller jewels around the metal.

“Marry me?”

Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.

From the way he holds you to the way he listens and kisses you between words. From the way he brings you lunch at work when you forget to the way he drives more carefully when you’re cuddled behind him on his bike.

Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.

And you love him too.

“Yes!”

masterlist || husband!sukuna headcanons || more husband!sukuna hcs

a/n ; please follow/like/reblog/share if you enjoyed ♡

---

On His Own //Ryōmen Sukuna

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (Reader isn't physically present)

Word Count: 1.6k words

Rating: Mature, 18+. It's smut. Minors, do not interact.

Summary: You are gone on a business trip and Sukuna finds himself missing your presence more than he anticipated. Thoughts of you plague his mind and he has to get himself off to the fantasies in his head.

Tags/Warnings: Male masturbation, sexual fantasies, mentions of penetration, mentions of oral sex on both ends, Sukuna's big cock.

Part one | Part two

"Hey! If you're listening to this, I'm probably currently busy and unable to pick up the phone. Please try to call me again at a later time, send me a message or wait for me to call you back!"

As soon as your mailbox finishes the message you recorded for it, Sukuna hangs up.

Letting out a sigh he leans back onto the mountain of pillows that lay on your shared bed, put there by yourself, because you claimed it would be more comfortable this way.

It was. He just didn't want to admit it, just like he wasn't ready to admit how lonely he really feels without you in his arms.

Your boyfriend has been calling you non-stop the whole day, but you were on a business trip, constantly running from one meeting to the other.

He knew you were busy and he was proud of you for being selected for such a big project, but he would be lying to himself, if he said that he didn't just want you to come back to him.

As soon as you come back, he is not going to let you leave the house. He'll have to make up for the lost time. All those marks he put on your body right before you left for your trip are probably faded by now, if not gone completely.

Sukuna grumbles, heavily dissatisfied by that thought. "I'll definitely have to mark her up again. Make sure she didn't forget who she belongs to. Who owns her... and who loves her." he thinks to himself.

Sukuna loves the way you'd wiggle around under him while he playfully nipped at your neck to mark you up, trying to escape his strong grasp on your hips and giggling in that irresistible way you always do around him.

He shifts into a more comfortable position and groans as he feels the growing bulge in his sweatpants. "Are you fucking kidding me? Just because I thought about her laughing underneath me?" he thinks to himself.

Leaning his head back into the pillows he looks up to the ceiling, letting his thoughts wander to you.

Were you tired? You've been gone for almost three weeks now and you'll be coming home this weekend. You definitely would need a break. Did you eat enough? Did you manage to get enough sleep?

Your boyfriend chuckles as he remembers you telling him that eating alone felt lonely to you and you couldn't sleep without him next to you.

He feels the same though.

Every night since you've been gone, he fell asleep on your side of the bed, hoping to get a whiff of the shampoo you washed your hair with and the body lotion you always made sure to use before bed.

Missing you this much makes him feel silly and weak, but also provides him with a strange comfort. You're surely missing him too, right? Falling asleep in his arms, waking up together, doing mundane daily tasks with him, his hugs and kisses-

God, he misses kissing you.

The way you would squeeze your eyes shut before a kiss always made him linger for a second longer, before diving in to fully press his lips against yours.

He misses the softness of your lips, the taste of them, the little breathy moans you let out when his hands caress you while he kisses you, the way they look so beautiful stretched around the girth of his cock as he-

Fuck, he really needed to do something about his growing problem.

He looks down at his body, his shirt already discarded, since he was going to sleep after talking to you. The sweatpants you adore so much on him - you say they make his butt look fantastic - don't do much to hide the bulge of impressive size underneath them.

Sukuna slowly pulls them down his thighs, lifting his hips to properly slide them down until his length is exposed to the cool air of the room. Slightly shivering at the cold, he sits up a bit, leaning back into the pillows.

If you were here right now, you'd help him. You were always so good for him and he'll be damned if he didn't return the favor every damn time. How could he not?

The way you'd whimper and moan for him, how you would desperately try to hold onto something, only for your hands to finally find purchase on his strong shoulders, driving your nails into his skin and leaving angry red scratch marks.

Sukuna wraps his hand around his thick cock with a firm grip, slowly stroking up and down while the memories of your moans and whimpers fill up his mind and have him heaving ragged breaths in no time.

His chest moves up and down heavily, following no proper rhythm due to the rough breaths leaving his mouth. The man tightens his grip around his length, stroking with more fervor, imagining your smaller hands stroking him instead of his own.

The thought of you having to use both of your hands to pleasure him, while sitting perched on his strong thighs and looking up at him, causes a shudder to make its way through his body.

Sukuna strokes his thumb over the head of his cock, collecting the bead of pre-cum that has built up and spreading it over the tip. He lets out a low grunt at the feeling, wishing it were your tongue licking it away. You would surely do your best to take him in all the way.

The way you were so innocent but a slut for his cock never failed to drive him mad. He starts to fist his cock roughly now, his other hand crawling down his body slowly to grab his balls and slowly fondle them, just like you always do when you suck him off.

When the thought of you taking him into your mouth and swallowing around his tip fills up his mind, he lets out a low groan.

As soon as you come home, he'll have to bend you over and take you on every surface available, obliterate your insides and fill your mind with him, only him.

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead and he wipes at it with his forearm, leaving it there for a second to cover his blushing face. Sukuna's rough strokes continue and he spreads his legs a bit more, looking for leverage with his feet and thrusting up into his hand.

It's not the same. Not comparable at all. Nothing holds a candle to the way your walls would hug him and pull him in with every thrust.

He was too far gone, his head full of memories and thoughts of you. It felt so good, but something was missing and he was frustrated.

It just felt like he was edging himself over and over again, not quite able to reach that sweet climax. His hand thrashes around next to him, while he continues his ministrations, trying to find purchase in the bedsheets, only to knock against your pillow.

Sukuna halts his motions and looks at it for a second.

"I can't fucking believe this. Shit," he mutters as he rolls over on all fours and positions the pillow underneath his body.

He moves to grip his thick, hot cock again, fucking into his hand with sloppy rolls of his hips, burying his face into your pillow. As he takes a deep breath, his hips momentarily lose their rhythm before pistoning into his hand again.

Fuck - it still smells like you. You always smelled so delicious to him and you were delicious. My god you were.

What he would give to lay in between your thighs and lap up every drop you had to offer.

The thought of your taste on his tongue while he could smell you right now sends his senses into overdrive. He lets out a loud groan into the pillow, biting into it to muffle his oncoming grunts ad he sloppily and roughly thrusts into his hand one, twice, a third time and then spills all over his hand and your pillow.

It comes in thick, heavy spurts, a reminder of how pent up he really was without you by his side.

His teeth let go of the big pillow after a while and he rolls onto his side right next to it. After wiping his hand on the pillow, your boyfriend spends the next few minutes steadying his breath and calming down.

"Shit, you fucking idiot. Now you gotta put that in the washing machine," he mumbles to himself, letting out an unhappy groan.

He takes a tissue and wipes himself clean before wiping away what he can on the pillow, chucking the tissues into the bin and pulling up his pants.

After throwing the cover of the pillow into the hamper he takes a cold shower, gets dressed and moves to the bedroom again. Turning off the light he lays down and covers himself with his blanket.

His thoughts drift to you again and how happy he'll be, once you're back. This time he will show you how much he's missed you.

Sukuna usually acts quite cool and unaffected, but he was going to go all out for you. Take you on a date, wine and dine you and then take his time with his dessert in bed.

With thoughts of you clouding his mind he falls asleep, not seeing the message that he just received popping up on his phone's screen.

"Hey Babe! Sorry for not picking up your calls. We tried to finish everything today, so we could return a bit earlier. Guess who is going to be back by tomorrow evening?

Miss you a lot and I love you!

xoxo"

---

(TONGUE) TIED

𓉸 husband!ryomen sukuna x f!reader || non-curse au

𓉸 kinktober smut oneshot

❝ you can't possibly get home fast enough in the eyes of your husband who's been undressing you with his eyes all night. to his delight, he finds that you're just as eager as he is and feeling a little freaky, which means sukuna gets to pull out your collection of toys and ropes. ❞

𓉸 warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. this is kinda freaky idk what was up with me. explicit smut. rough sex. safe word established but unneeded. unprotected. manhandling. nipple play (f! receiving). neck kissing. marking. biting. toys (rabbit vibrator, nipple clamps). bondage. overstimulation. fingering. oral (f! receiving). dacryphilia. use of pet names (girl, woman, minx, princess, brat, baby). praise. choking. stomach bulge. cervix mention. light impact play. degradation (slut). creampie. cumplay. fluffy aftercare. kinda soft!sukuna?

𓉸 words ; 7.5k.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

Your husband has been mentally undressing you from across the table all night, his attention drawn to you as though you have your own personal gravity meant for him only. There’s barely a second throughout the entirety of dinner where his eyes aren’t filled with an unspoken fire directed at you.

It’s not like it’s unusual to catch a glimpse of Sukuna eyeing you up, but his lack of attention towards the rest of your friends at the table hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You wonder if he caught a glimpse of the crimson panties adorned in black lace with garter straps that held up your stockings and a matching crimson and lace bra before you left to meet your friends. It was intended to be a surprise for your husband for later but given that you couldn’t often find him much further than a room away from you at most, you wouldn’t be shocked if he’d noticed.

“Can ya stop undressin’ your wife at the table and listen, dumbass?” Toji’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, a brow raised as at last he manages to get Sukuna’s attention. “I was askin’ if you can watch Megs and Miki next weekend for a day so I can take my wife out on a date.”

“Hm? Ask Uraume,” Sukuna grumbles, an air of irritation around his words. The two of you are free next weekend and Uraume already stated they weren’t able to, which Sukuna would know if he’d bothered to listen.

Toji sighs but before he can explain to Sukuna what he’s missed, your heel jabs into your husband’s shin and his knee collides with the bottom of the table. The commotion silences the entire table, pulling Uraume and Shiu’s attention to the glare you’re getting from your husband. In spite of his grit teeth and clear irritation, there’s no malice behind his glare. There never is when it comes to you.

“Christ, fine, yeah, whatever,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a huff, snarling in disapproval at Toji’s teasing chuckle.

“Tell your wife thanks,” Toji launches a shit-eating grin at the tattooed man, who only sneers in return, rolling his eyes.

“Tell her yourself,” he grumbles, sulking in a way that only your stubborn husband would.

Still, his eyes are back on you and the commotion is forgotten in almost an instant when he hears your candied laugh at something Shiu’s said.

It’s not like you weren’t already planning on surprising him with new lingerie once you got home, but you could already tell you were in for a ride tonight.

And you couldn’t possibly be more right about that as he shoves you forcefully up against the door the moment you’re back at your apartment. His grip on your hips is bruising as his lips capture yours roughly.

“Fuckin’ teasing me all night, woman,” he grumbles against your lips, sliding a hand down your thigh until his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress. Hungry, his hands explore and squeeze the plush skin of your thigh until his fingers come into contact with the garter straps keeping your stockings in place.

He pulls back from your kiss-swollen lips to grin at you with lidded eyes. “R’ these for me, princess?”

“Always, Ryo.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck. He hungrily nips and bites at your skin, fingers mindlessly fiddling with the straps before sliding up to where they connect with your panties.

A guttural groan leaves his lips as he the tips of his fingers brush along the decorative lace of the panties you’re wearing for him. He pulls back from your lips, pupils blown impossibly big with unadulterated lust.

“Shit, what’d I do to deserve this?” He grins with lidded eyes.

“I’m asking myself that too given how much of a menace you were at dinner,” you mumble, thumbs brushing the base of his jaw that’s slack in a playful sneer.

“Oh whatever. Actin’ like you don’t like gettin’ ogled by me,” he rolls his eyes in exasperation, squeezing your hip with the hand that’s still firmly holding you against the door. His other hand moves suddenly to brush your core, a deep chuckle leaving your husband when you gasp. “Go ahead n’ act like ya haven’t been wet all night, ya ain’t foolin’ me.”

You pout up at him, lip jutting out playfully.

But that’s just the thing about your husband. He may have more bravado than any one person could need, but it wasn’t an act. He’s right. He’s always right when it comes to you. He knows you like the back of his hand, just like he knows what it means when you dress up for him.

“Feelin’ a lil’ freaky tonight, princess?”

Your cheeks flush red at his implication, but you nod.

“You’ll use the safe word if it’s too much?” He confirms.

You nod again. “I promise, Kuna.”

The smug grin Sukuna flashes you is only in your vision for a moment before he’s throwing you over his shoulder with ease. You’ve long grown used to him manhandling you, but it doesn’t make it any less jarring when your ass is suddenly in the air and you’re clutching to the muscle shirt that hangs over his broad shoulders.

You let out a yelp as he tosses you on the mattress of your shared bed, his expression fiery with hunger. That look alone has you clenching your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed as your husband’s tongue swipes his lower lip.

He’s on top of you in an instant, lips grazing the skin of your chest from the deep V neckline of your dress. It’s gorgeous on you, it suits you like it was designed just for you to be admired by him, but Sukuna’s lust is so overbearing he wants to tear through the neckline and have you exposed before him.

Your palms splay on his shoulders and press against the muscles to push him away, a sign that has him staring at you in confusion with one hand gripping at the fabric of your dress.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you warn. “Don’t you dare. This is new.”

He scoffs in disbelief, practically whining for you.

“You’re so impatient, Kuna,” you scold. “I’m gonna run out of clothes at the rate you rip them.”

His lip curls in frustration. “So?”

You raise a brow insistently. “I need clothes?”

“Nah, you don’t,” he grins, lowering his face back to yours to press a kiss to your lips. You tilt your head in an effort to give him better access, your hands sliding over his shoulders and around his neck as Sukuna dominantly takes control of the situation again and-

RIP.

You pull your head back. “Are you incapable of listening?” You scold him, brow furrowed.

He’s shooting you a shit-eating grin. You’ve dealt with his bullshit so long that you already know the answer is yes when it comes to things like this of little consequence. He’s got a good grasp on when the best moments are to push your buttons and much to your dismay this was one of them. Contrary to what most people would likely assume, Sukuna is a good husband, a great one even.

Words don’t come easily to him, he’s only talkative during sex and he’s frequently grumpy over inconsequential matters. He’s imposing and aloof around those he doesn’t know and seems to make a game out of scaring your co-workers the first time he meets them. He doesn’t know how to tell you that he loves you through words. It’s simply not in his vocabulary.

That’s the thing about Sukuna, he finds other ways to express his love. Ways that fill you with warmth and assure you that yes, he does love you, more than words could ever say.

Sukuna’s surprisingly attentive. Even when he seems as though he isn’t paying any mind, even when he acts as though he’s bored, he’s listening. His grumbly and standoffish attitude is little more than an act around you. He pays attention to the little things and takes care of chores when he sees that you’re too exhausted to do so. He sneaks back to stores where you mention liking something so that he can buy it for the next birthday or anniversary.

He knows your favorite flowers, he knows the kind of jewelry you like best. He knows that although you can hold your own on a motorbike, you love to be his little backpack. He knows you love to watch horror movies just to jump into his arms and have an excuse to cuddle, even though you don’t need one.

He knows the exact spots that you like to be kissed, the places that send a shiver up your spine and make your back arch and toes curl. He knows you love the way his tongue piercing feels cool in contrast to the warmth of his tongue against your clit.

He knows that when you make a point of dressing up for him like tonight, it’s with the intent of letting Sukuna have his way with you for the remainder of the night.

It’s for that exact reason that he ignores your remark about him not listening and leans down to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck, eliciting a pleasurable gasp. You grip at his shoulders for purchase, squirming beneath him as he tugs at the dress, ripping it further until he’s opened it from the front.

He feels your chest raise as you take a breath to scold him, moving fervently to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, and to shut you up. He grins against your lips, positioning himself between your thighs before he pulls back to admire you.

And god, does he ever love what he sees. The deep red and black lace of your panties and bra sets his skin alight with want, eyes trailing from the way your breasts are pushed together so deliciously down to where the garter straps attached to your panties meet the thin layer of sheer stockings that cover your legs. Everything about the lingerie, everything about you is so incredibly sexy, and he plans on making that known.

That is, after he rips everything off of you just like he did your dress.

Really, can you expect anything less from him at this point?

“Shit, y’ look gorgeous,” he breathes against the skin of your breast, holding himself above you with a strong forearm. His other hand moves to find the clasp at the back of your bra, easily releasing it and humming with delight as your breasts bounce when they’re freed.

The moment the cool air hits your nipples, Sukuna’s warm tongue licks a long, languid stripe up the left one, the contrast of his tongue piercing always sending your mind into a frenzy as you let out a moan, clutching at his shoulders.

You’re so tiny beneath him, a given when your husband is a nearly seven foot tall man with abs of steel, but it doesn’t make it any less daunting all these years later when you feel the massive tent in his pants brush your legs.

Sukuna knows better than to tear you apart without warming you up for him, though. He’ll have you cumming three times over before he dares to sheath his massive cock in your tight cunt.

Tonight is no exception. He sucks on your nipple, the sensation sending shivers down your spine as his tongue circles the sensitive bud. You can hear him fiddling with something on the bedside with the hand that’s not holding him up, but it’s a distant sound when his tongue piercing is bringing you so much pleasure.

His lips separate from the swollen skin of your breast with a pop, a satisfied smirk on his kiss-swollen lips as he pulls one of your wrists from his shoulder, pinning it above you.

“Gonna be a good lil’ wife f’r me tonight?” He growls darkly, waiting for your consent.

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker to the movement of your lips, jaw ajar as his chest rises and falls with a lust-filled hum. “Words.” It’s a command, not a question.

“Yes, Ryo,” you breathe. His tongue swipes his lower lip hungrily as he leans forward and begins to tie a very expensive soft red rope around your wrist. His movements are practiced, the action something Sukuna took extra time to research and learn to make sure you would be comfortable, even as he ties you to the headboard. Your second wrist is tied expertly as well and Sukuna pauses to press a gentle, loving kiss to your nose.

Momentarily, Sukuna’s eyes fill with adoration, but as he grabs the next rope and moves down the bed to tie your ankles to the end of the bed, that look in his eyes changes to one of dominant lust. He stands back, a predator admiring its prey, caught and splayed out beneath him. The red matches your panties in a way that sends his brain spiraling when you tug against the rope and your breasts jiggle with the effort.

“You tryin’ the run, woman?” He teases, his voice dangerously low and raspy. He knows this is as much of a game to you as it is to him when you whine in protest, eyes filled with desperation. “Needy lil’ thing.”

You pant, wriggling against the restraints as the wet patch of your panties grows increasingly uncomfortable and your need for friction increases. Your husband slips his shirt over his head, your eyes trailing the length of his built form, the way his tattoos seem to accentuate the ridges and valleys of his pecs and abs. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, he’s a work of art.

He drops his jeans to the floor, leaving only a pair of black boxers on over his aching cock. The confines of his boxers are equally as uncomfortable as he’s certain your panties slick with arousal are, but he needs to take care of preparing you to take his length before he can deal with that.

Crawling back over your body, he pinches your nipple in time with biting your lower lip, your broken whimper swallowed by his lips. The rough pads of his fingers are harsh against the swollen bud as his tongue presses into your mouth, dancing with yours dominantly.

“Gonna make you feel so good tonight, m’kay?” He pulls back to wait for your needy little nod before dipping down to lick a languid and teasing stripe straight up the wet patch of your lace panties. Your pussy tingles with anticipation as you tug hard against the expertly tied ropes binding your wrists to the corners of the bed.

With desire-filled eyes, Sukuna shoots you a devious glance as he hooks his fingers beneath the fabric of your brand new panties. Your eyes widen as you catch his train of thought. “No no no, not again Kuna, don’t you-”

RIP.

With a coy grin decorating his lips, he tosses the torn remnants of your panties aside, sliding the garter straps and stockings down your legs. You begin to let out a sigh at his actions, choking on it when the flat of his tongue meets your folds as he licks another long stripe up your needy cunt, dripping with desire. The contrast of his warm tongue and the cool metal of his piercing never fails to send a shiver up your spine.

Gasping at the sudden contact, you buck your hips towards him. Sukuna responds in turn by plunging his tongue into your entrance, large hands moving to hold you in place and keep you  from your desperate wriggles. You can no longer greedily move your hips against him for friction, you’re completely at his mercy and he won’t take that opportunity for granted.

The harsh contrast of his metallic piercing against your gummy walls is something that in all these years you never did get used to, every prod of the metal sending pleasure straight to your core.

Sukuna knows this, he knows you like the back of his hand and he knows just how to drive you to your first orgasm of the night as he pulls back slightly, flicking the metal of his piercing over your clit.

He moves his tongue expertly over your clit before sucking harshly on the bundle of nerves. Pressure builds quickly in your lower stomach and you clench your fists, pulling hard against your bindings as you struggle to find purchase for your hands with nothing to grip, unable to move your legs beneath Sukuna’s insistent and bruising grip on your thighs.

With one final harsh suck and a flick of his piercing over your clit, you cry out “-Kuna!” and come undone as your orgasm washes over you in waves. Your body jolts with each languid lick of Sukuna’s tongue over your clit as he draws out your orgasm, pussydrunk lidded eyes watching your blissed out expression.

Your body goes limp and Sukuna pulls back, moving back over the bed to sloppily kiss you, your arousal coating his lips and chin as the taste of you lingers. He’s surprisingly gentle as he purrs in your ear.

“Good girl.”

Eagerly, the burly man positions himself back between your legs, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his neck to the side, a display that has you watching the way his muscles tense and relax with each movement, veins popping in his upper arms.

One look at the man between your legs always has you questioning how you got so lucky. The ridges and valleys of his abs decorated in tattoos are a sight to behold that would make anyone jealous, you might even call it a common occurrence. The real treat with Sukuna though is the way he absolutely worships the ground you walk on.

He’s cold and a downright pain in the ass to everyone else, but since the day you met him, he’s always been soft for you. That’s not to say he can’t be a pain in the ass, after all you’re now down a dress and a pair of panties, and he has a bad habit of starting arguments over things that don’t matter among other small grievances that come between you, but he’ll never let you go to sleep upset with him.

There’s no sleeping on the couch, no ignoring one another for extended periods of time. Sukuna knows he can be a dick and he knows he’s a lot to handle, but you’re his girl and he wouldn’t dare lose what he has with you.

You’re his world, and he’ll do anything for you, even if he has a funny way of showing it. Sometimes, it’s by tying you to a bedpost and fucking you until you cry.

His eyes survey your body, tongue swiping along his lower lip as he admires the swell of your breasts, your curves, landing finally on your arousal dripping from your pulsing cunt.

“Shit, y’ look like such a pretty little slut for me,” he groans, palming his painfully hard cock. What Sukuna wouldn’t give to bend you over and fuck you right now, his restraint running thin. The only thing keeping him from doing so is the thrill of having you tied beneath him and wanting to take things slow. That, and the size difference between you that begs that he prepares you to take him.

Your chest still rises and falls heavily from the aftermath of your last orgasm, but Sukuna is too eager to wait for any semblance of overstimulation to pass as he slides the tips of his fingers featherlight over your puffy lips, passing over your clit.

A light moan drags from your lips at the sensation. You lift your head to watch where Sukuna’s digits part your folds. His eyes are blackened with lust as he twists his left hand to sink his middle and ring finger into your slick entrance.

Nothing turns your husband on more than watching your arousal coat his fingers, in particular on his left hand where his wedding ring is tattooed on in the same style as the rest of his tattoos. Watching the way you drip down his finger and over the tattoo is the sole reason he got particularly good at fingering you with his left hand.

As your body eagerly swallows his fingers, he tenses his jaw as need tightens in his lower stomach. He can feel his resolve pulling taut just as his boxers are with each desperate pulse of his hardened cock.

“Kuna, ‘m sensitive, go easy on- mmph!” Your words are cut off in a gasp as you writhe in his grasp, pulling both wrists and ankles hard against your restraints when he sinks his fingers in to their hilts until the tattooed ring is buried within your pussy. You drip down his wrist as he curls his fingers expertly, wasting no time in prodding at the plush of your sensitive spot.

“Atta girl, show me how needy y’ are for me,” he purrs, eyes locked with his fingers.

“F-fuck- Ryo-” You babble words out as he speeds up his ministrations, pulling you quickly back to the edge of an orgasm.

“Y’ gonna cum on my fingers?” He grins, taking his free hand to press down gently on your lower abdomen. The tension in your stomach coils and tightens with the movement and you buck your hips, eyes shut tight as overstimulation and pleasure mix in such a beautiful union that you think you’re seeing stars behind your tightly shut eyelids.

“Y-Yes, Kuna,” you barely managed between moans and pants to answer his question as he curls his digits faster, brushing your g-spot rougher with each curl.

“No runnin’ from me, baby,” his voice is low as he presses down harder on your abdomen to stop the way you’re shuffling away from him. Tears form in the corners of your eyes from the sheer amount of stimulation that’s heightening every one of your senses and with one last curl, you pull your knees inward hard as your second orgasm of the night hits you like a ton of bricks.

The tug of your legs against the bedposts make a loud creaking noise, but the ropes don’t relent, keeping your knees apart a fair distance still. Sukuna slows his movements as he drags each wave of your orgasm out. Your moans and whimpers are like a song meant for his ears only, one that he directs with his fingers just as a conductor might direct a choir.

“Thaaaat’s it, doin’ such a good job for me, princess,” Sukuna praises as he watches your chest heave, your head thrown back as you jerk with each wave of your orgasm. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from your pulsing walls, the movement dragging a pretty moan from your lips. Your body trembles, muscles twitching with each convulsion as you come down from your climax.

“Look at me,” your husband instructs commandingly, leaning over you. You obey, heavily lidded eyes finding his handsome face. “Open.”

When you part your lips, Sukuna brings his fingers to them, sinking his digits into your mouth. You make eye contact as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, drinking in your own juices. Sukuna can’t help the groan that leaves from deep within his throat at the sight of his wedding ring disappearing within your lips as you obediently lap up and clean his fingers.

In truth, he could watch this for hours if he weren’t throbbing in the confines of his boxers still.

“Such a good lil’ slut,” he moans, pulling his fingers back as he leans over you to kiss and suck on the skin at the top of your breast. Leaving a trail of hickeys at the edge of your breast, he soothingly laps at the bruising skin, following suit up to the crook of your neck as he decorates you in bites, painting you with purple markings that glisten with his saliva in the soft evening light coming through the window.

Your brain is foggy in the wake of your second orgasm and you watch as Sukuna suddenly hops to his feet before languidly making his way over to the bedside table.

“Y’ think you can handle me yet?” He asks, tilting his head in a cocky manner. You nod your head eagerly, but your husband clicks his tongue. “Silly woman,” he huffs, leaning down to a drawer filled with-

Oh fuck.

You squirm against your bindings, whining at the realization that Sukuna has his heart set on pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you tonight before he cums even once.

“You whining as though ya didn’t ask for this?” He chuckles, standing at his full height again with a cute pink rabbit vibe in one hand and a pair of nipple clamps in the other.

“Kuna, just wait a bit,” you beg, tugging on your restraints again. “‘M sensitive.”

“Sensitive?”

You nod.

“Was it not you beggin’ me the other day to fuck you through your oversensitivity, y’ lil’ brat?” He scoffs, tilting his head with his lips slightly parted. He sneers slightly as his eyes roll. “Oversensitive,” he taunts.

With that, there’s no escaping your husband as he crawls from the end of the bed towards you, splaying your legs further apart with his forearms as he sets the vibrator to the side. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you watch his movements.

Holding himself over you, he places several soft pecks on your left nipple, causing it to grow perky. Sukuna presses the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin, flicking it with his piercing as it catches the bud. Your head is thrown back in a moan, fist balling as you tug at the rope.

The tattooed man catches you off guard as your eyes blearily rest on the ceiling while he clamps the first side to your left breast. You gasp, followed shortly by a whimper.

“Look so fuckin’ hot with this shit on,” he groans, following his movements on your right breast. With a flick of his tongue over your perky nipple, you moan again and he takes the opportunity to place the next clamp over the hardened bud.

Your back arches off the mattress as you cry out. With the chain in one hand, he leans back to admire you, tugging on them and smirking when you whimper. The sensation makes your head spin as your pussy pulses and drools for your husband.

“Shit.”

He’s aching in the confines of his boxers, cock throbbing and tip leaky, but he won’t waste this opportunity to have you tied and at his grace. It may be his absolute favorite thing to have you bound on the bed for him, but this is all about you. He wants the bed soaked below you before he even has the chance to get his dick wet.

He picks up the rabbit vibrator, your favorite out of the drawer of toys and one of his favorites to use on you and teases your entrance with it. The toy is cool, the cold silicone sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine.

With a tug on the chain of the nipple clamps, Sukuna sinks the tip of the dildo portion of the vibrator into your leaky cunt, your arousal from your previous two orgasms enough lube to allow the toy to slide easily into your entrance. He watches your lips part, back arching as he hits the first ring of resistance.

“It’s too much-” you squeak, just as Sukuna pushes the toy in deeper. You moan his name, pulling hard on your restraint as you attempt to reach out to him and stop his movement. He does pause to allow you a chance to adjust, though he knows you’re babbling about it being too much purely from overstimulation as tears prick in your eyes.

Dropping the clamp chain over your stomach, he reaches out to wipe your tears. “Doin’ so good,” he hums. You whimper as he sinks the toy in further. His muscular forearm flexes as he presses the toy heavily to your g spot.

“Ryo- Please,” you writhe against the rope as pleasure coils in your stomach once more. With the dildo fully sunk into your gummy walls, the rabbit vibe now sits comfortably against your clit, prodding at it as Sukuna twists his wrist lightly, the pressure of both sides of the toy sending you into a state of pure bliss.

The bliss is short-lived as Sukuna turns the vibrator to the lowest setting and your body jerks and jolts from the stimulation.

“Too much-! Toomuchtoomuch-” You cry out between gasps as you attempt to run from the toy. Sukuna’s large hand grips your waist tightly as he holds you in place. Not like you were meant to get far anyway with how well he’s tied you down.

“Shut up n’ take it, princess. You’re the one who asked for this when ya let me tie you up,” Sukuna growls, a familiar lust-filled darkness clouding his eyes as he kisses your inner thigh.

You shake your head wildly, but the overstimulation gives way quickly when he turns the vibration setting up a notch. You shut your eyes tightly with a moan as you arch into the toy.

“That’s it, baby. Gimme another orgasm, yeah?”

You swallow hard as you pull yourself up the bed barely an inch with a hard tug against the rope. Sukuna hums at the sight of your foggy eyes when they open once more, your head rising to watch where the toy meets your clit, the dildo swallowed by your needy cunt.

With the vibrating portion prodding your clit, Sukuna keeps it steady while twisting the rest of the dildo to brush your g spot with quick and rough thrusts. You can feel a third climax fast approaching as you arch against the toy, pressing into the vibrator.

With a click of a button, the vibrator goes up one more setting and you’re crying out suddenly as it pushes you over the edge.

As your walls clamp and pulse around the toy, your juices flowing out around the pink silicone, your moans become screams as overstimulation rocks you. The vibration is absolutely too much and yet you can’t get enough of it, squirming and wriggling in an attempt to escape the relentless friction.

Only when your cunt stops gushing out around the toy does Sukuna turn it off, leaving the dildo buried to the hilt within you as your chest heaves. With a sloppy squelch, the toy is pulled from within you and set aside. You shudder as you’re given a moment’s respite from the stimulation, your head falling back as you catch your breath.

“Whattaya think, pretty? You ready to take me yet?” Sukuna teases, waiting for you to meet his eyes. Your head swings up as you nod your head.

“Please baby,” you beg in such a saccharine sweet voice that Sukuna can’t help but indulge you. Well, that and the tension in his cock is growing physically painful, twitching against the confines of his boxers. It stands alert, slapping against his abdomen as it’s freed from the fabric.

“Since y’ beg so nice for me,” he purrs, sliding out of his boxers with his slutty upper thigh tattoos now fully on display. He positions himself over you, sliding his length through your folds repetitively and covering it in your slick as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss. Holding himself up on one forearm, he wraps his free hand delicately around your throat as his thumb strokes the side of your neck.

You whimper at the friction provided by his cock, desperate to have him inside you, all the while the overstimulation clouds your brain and you can hardly make sense of any thoughts. All you know is lust and need. You pull against your restraints in an attempt to wrap your legs around Sukuna’s waist and pull him down, but it’s no use.

Your husband chuckles at your pathetic whimpers and whines that get swallowed by his hungry tongue shoved down your throat. “Poor thing,” he coos, pulling back to kiss a line up your jaw. “Such a needy lil slut for me.”

Sitting back on his heels, he reels his hips back and ruts his cock against your clit once before he positions himself at your entrance. Your body jerks as cum leaks from your cunt. Sukuna keeps his gaze fixed on your expression as he tugs once on the chain of the nipple clamps, pulling a whimper from your pretty, kiss-swollen lips. As your lips part, he drops the chain between them, biting his lip as the petite chain decorates your mouth so prettily.

His cock throbs again and he can’t wait a moment longer as he pushes the angry red tip of his cock into your pussy. Your head falls back into the plush pillows as he stretches you and pain and pleasure mix with overstimulation. It’s such an overwhelming sensation that your abdomen coils and pressure builds immediately.

At nearly seven feet tall, it’s no surprise that Sukuna is big, but being both long and thick is always a shock on your system, even after years of being with him. The size difference is immense and even three orgasms deep, your walls are tight around him as he pushes past the first ring of resistance.

Sukuna reaches forward with a groan, large hand wrapping around your throat once again. “Doin’ so good, my little minx,” he hisses as he continues to feed you inch after inch of his cock. His thumb gently rubs soothing circles into the skin of your neck until he bottoms out. He remains still, giving you a moment to adjust and uses the opportunity to lean down and press an uncharacteristically sweet kiss to your lips.

“Still good, princess?” He asks in a tender tone you don’t hear all that often from your gruff husband. He knows he can get carried away when you let him bind you to the bedposts and with the size difference between you, he wants your full consent before he considers moving.

You nod, bedposts creaking as you attempt to move your hand to cradle his face, unable against the restraints.

“Words, princess.”

“I’m good, Kuna,” you assure him in a muffled voice as you speak around the chain residing between your lips.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pushing himself up to watch where your bodies connect as he begins to rock his hips backwards in a slow pace, watching his cock sink back into you. He positions himself to brush your g spot with each languid thrust and as you moan and throw your head back once more, Sukuna’s fingers begin to put pressure on your throat. He restricts your oxygen with expertly placed fingers, your jaw going slack at the sensation.

Your mind goes blank, overtaken by a foggy high as all you can feel is Sukuna’s pace beginning to increase, each thrust sending pleasure through your body like a bolt of lightning. The ropes tied to you are pulled taut at each limb as you attempt to reach out and cling to your husband for purchase.

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight,” Sukuna groans hoarsely, relenting on your throat and letting oxygen back into your lungs as he slides his hand down between the valley of your breasts to feel your stomach. He places light pressure on your lower abdomen, the feeling of the bulge of his cock beneath his hand setting his entire body on fire.

Like you’ve set him off, he leans back and unties your ankles suddenly. Now unbound, you attempt to move your legs to straddle his waist and pull him deeper, but Sukuna has other plans.

You whine when he pulls out suddenly, loosening your arm bindings by about a foot on each side so that he can flip you onto your forearms and knees. Your forearms are nearly positioned in an ‘x’ below you thanks to the cross-sections of the ropes still tied to the headboard. The chain of the nipple clamp falls from your mouth as the clamps themselves brush against the blankets beneath you. The friction sends shivers through your body.

With your ass exposed to him, your husband lets out a guttural groan, nearly an animalistic growl as he kisses the plush flesh of your left cheek before biting down. You yelp in surprise, jumping as you attempt to get a glance of the hungry look in his eyes. Crimson eyes stare back at you as he licks the spot soothingly seconds later.

He presses a peck to your opposite ass cheek as well, nipping the flesh more gently than the previous one as he leaves his mark on your skin alongside the purple decorating your neck and collar.

Leaning back, he stands tall on his knees behind you and pushes back into your sopping pussy in one swift movement. You cry out in pleasure for him, fingers finally able to grip at the sheets for purchase and ground you as you become starry-eyed in pleasure again.

With a harsh slap to your ass, his hand slides down the small of your back and up your spine until he reaches your hair. Leaning over you, he presses you into the mattress, muffling your moans and screams with the blankets beneath. He keeps up his meteoric pace, every thrust causing your abdomen to twist and coil until you’re teetering over the edge, threatening to come undone beneath him.

“Ryo, I’m gonna- fuck-!” A muffled cry leaves your mouth between babbles as your legs quake in an effort to keep you upright. Your whole body jerks and shakes beneath Sukuna, your walls milking him for all that he’s worth. You’re so tight, gummy walls sucking and squeezing him so much that his movements grow sloppy, a sure sign he’s about to cum too.

“Ah shit, feels so good when you cum around me,” he groans, staring down at the ring of white arousal that coats the base of his cock. He wraps his free arm around your middle to keep you upright and held flush to him as your legs give out on you as he thrusts harder, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. The sounds of skin on skin slapping in the room is so lewd and hot that it makes Sukuna’s head spin.

In a few more thrusts, Sukuna’s climax finally hits after a night of denying himself any amount of pleasure all for having you tied beneath him. The amount of cum that paints your walls is immense as his warm arousal fills you up and spills out around his thick member. His abs tense with each wave of his orgasm as he continues to thrust until your walls have milked every last ounce of cum from him.

He leans over you as he stills, holding himself up over your bare body as both of your chests heave in an effort to catch your breath. Both of you jerk and jolt on occasion as the aftershocks of your orgasms pulse through you.

With a kiss to the small of your back, Sukuna leans back on his knees, staring down at his throbbing length as he pulls out of you. He hisses through his teeth as your walls attempt to suck him back in.

“Shit,” he mumbles as he watches his cum leak from your pussy, dripping down onto the blankets beneath you. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he gathers some of the cum on his fore and middle fingers and presses them back into your pulsing cavern.

You gasp in surprise, entirely too overstimulated and your husband chuckles when your body jerks in response to that feeling before collapsing fully onto the mattress.

Pulling his fingers out, he deftly flips you back over and presses his fingers between your lips. You suck on the digits, cleaning the fluids from his fingers obediently with a hum. Sukuna smirks at you with lidded eyes as he pulls his digits back from your lips with a pop!

“Y’ did so good for me, princess,” he praises as he removes the knots from around your wrists and removes the nipple clamps to set them aside. Your eyes are still noticeably foggy as you come back down from your fourth and most intense orgasm of the night, so Sukuna takes the initiative to take care of you.

Sukuna isn’t the most adept when it comes to your emotions. If you aren’t blunt with him, he’ll often miss the signs that you’re upset and brush past any clues you drop for him. He may not always catch on to little hints you provide him, but he does try his best to keep an eye on you and provide nonetheless. That includes knowing exactly what the best kind of aftercare looks like for you.

He checks over both of your wrists and ankles for any sign that your harsh tugging on the ropes hurt you at all but he’s done far too much research to allow the ropes to bring you any harm.

Taking in a breath, he gets to his feet and starts the shower, reaching an arm out to test the temperature. When it reaches the temperature you prefer, he returns to the bed and lifts you easily into his arms bridal style. He relishes in the way you subconsciously cling to him, nuzzling your face into his chest like the monstrous biker with a reputation for being an asshole is your own personal hero.

Reaching the washroom, he gently places you on your feet although he knows your knees will buckle beneath you, so he holds you tightly to him, doing all the work as he moves the both of you into the shower as one.

As warm water washes over you and cleans all traces of sweat and other fluids from your body, Sukuna simply holds you tightly against him. When he feels you bury your face into his pecs after a couple of minutes, arms encircling his torso tightly, he knows you’re coming down from your climax.

“How d’ you feel, baby?” He asks. After sex is one of the few moments he does tend to get tender and gentle with you. He knows on any other occasion you can match his snide comments and keep him under wraps, but when it comes to aftercare he knows better than to get on your nerves.

He wants to keep you happy and in a state of bliss for as long as he can, enjoying the sweet and doting version of his wife he always gets after dicking you down so good that you can’t walk- which is exactly what he just did.

“Mmm, good, Kuna. You?”

He chuckles at the dreamy way your words come out, light as a feather on cloud nine. “Yeah me too, baby.”

Sukuna cleans you up as you move in slow motion post-orgasm, though he always keeps an arm around your waist to ensure you stay upright. It’s a sweet sentiment, knowing just how willing he is to not only do all the work of showering for the both of you but also hold you upright the entire time as well.

Once you’re both clean, he places one last kiss to the crown of your head, squeezing you tightly to him. He shuts the shower off and dries both of you off before finding his muscle shirt to throw over your head. It hangs off of you like a dress, the long holes on both sides where the sleeves have been cut off revealing the swell of your breasts.

Your husband’s head tilts as he admires the sight of you draped in his shirt, a yawn overtaking your features. He can’t help but to think of just how lucky he is to have married the hottest woman on the planet. And to think that woman lets him tie her up?

His cock throbs at the thought and he needs to push it aside out of fear of breaking you. He gets you settled in bed, pulling the covers over you before he pulls on a pair of boxers.

Sukuna slides into bed behind you, pulling you flush to him as his strong arms wrap around your middle. He buries his head into your shoulder, inhaling the fresh scent of floral body wash. Everything about you lulls him into a comfortable near-sleep state as you hum contentedly in front of him, feeling safe and happy in his embrace.

“I love you, Ryo,” you whisper over the dulled sounds of cars outside the window.

“Mhm, I know, brat.”

Sukuna may not say he loves you with words, but he shows that he does through the way he takes care of you. As his fingers move to gently card through your hair, you know Sukuna is showing that he loves you too.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

𓉸 a/n ; thanks for reading! i had so much fun with this one, please feel free to check out my husband!sukuna au that inspired this work and as always reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated ♡

𓉸 taglist ; currently open. please comment here or on the masterlist to be tagged in the rest of my kinktober work ♡ @tojis-ball-sack @rathreads @sukunadckrider @nxcxllxsevens @r0ckst4rjk

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gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (fluff but minors begone)

you awake with a shiver. then a groan.

“‘toru,” you whine into the darkness of your eyelids, “s’too cold.”

satoru chuckles, hot puffs of air blooming above his lips. his arms are warm as they wrap around you, pulling you against the bare skin of chest. that’s warm, too.

“c’mere,” he hums, lips pressed into the crown of your head. one hand traces up and down your back, the other brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead before resting along your neck.

there are fewer birds chirping outside the open window, proof that summer now rests behind closed curtains. gone are the days where the sun lingered in the sky to greet its lover the moon, its beautiful stain on your skin now fading. the birds miss it, too.

“you forgot to close the window last night, ‘toru.” you nuzzle into his shoulder, seeking shelter from the icy air (one he is always happy to provide; he always makes space for you).

the only response you get is a smile, dimples poking through pink cheeks.

because he didn’t forget.

he knows, now, after years of circling the sun with you, that you dread the cold, the way it chills your bones; and, he knows that you seek his warmth. even in your sleep.

when you wake searching for him, arms outstretched through shivers, that he will always be there. always ready. always warm.

“oops,” he giggles. “maybe i’ll remember next time.”

you murmur in response as you melt into him.

(the window is open tomorrow morning)

a/n: it's finally getting cold here aka it's time to start the fall drabbles (and i am once again accepting cuddle requests)

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THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

---

I’VE ALWAYS LOVED THE WAY YOU EAT ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru is a morning person. he likes the serenity of it all; the quiet of the early hours, the expensive feel of his coffee pot. more than anything, he likes bringing you breakfast in bed.

word count; 4.9k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, just comfy morning vibes, fluff fluff fluff!!, suguru being a good soon-to-be husband, lots of petnames, reader is whipped (and so am i) but suguru is even worse, i need him biblically.

a/n; this is my personal essay on why suguru geto is the perfect man and wife. bon appetit !!

something smells good.

as your eyelids flutter open, and you gradually slip out of sleep’s fuzzy embrace, you are engulfed by that one thought. that one sensation.

there’s a sweet fragrance in the air, an unnamed something you can’t place. a force of love.

soft sunrays flit in through the haphazardly closed window blinds of your bedroom, cascading across the floorboards and bouncing off the walls. splotches of sunshine envelop you in a hazy kind of glow; gentle and coaxing, stirring you awake. it feels good on your skin.

indulging in a few more slow blinks, you shift to lie on your back, halfheartedly attempting to chase the sleepiness away. tangled up in silken sheets and fluffy blankets, you stare at the ceiling — but even such a mundane task feels so nice. just wallowing in the tantalizing scent drifting through the bedroom, the flurry of little kisses that the sun smothers you with. 

it’s still early, and you’re still sleepy. outside the walls of your apartment, the sun is rising to its feet, dyeing the world in warm colours; violets and blues melting into pinks and oranges, like an egg cracked open on the canvas of the sky. everything is quiet, not a sound to be heard except for the very distant chirping of cicadas from the trees outside your window. utter peace. like time isn’t even passing.

in the midst of such a precious moment, all you want is to laze around. it’s just that kind of pleasant, mellow morning; the kind that makes you wish the sun would never fully rise.

a satisfied little sigh slips from your lips. content to soak in the heavenly feeling until it passes, your eyes flutter shut — you’re just so sleepy, and the sun just feels so warm. soothing you, making it even harder to stay awake, cradling you in its hazy embrace. sunlit and saccharine.

with the morning fatigue clouding your senses, you don’t even notice the other presence in the room. 

suguru smiles, from his spot by the door — leaning against the wall and gazing at your relaxed expression, an immense fondness reflected in his eyes. taking a moment to silently admire you.

you look so content. tangled up in blankets and pillows, with your limbs outstretched and starfished across the mattress. your hair is a little messy, and you’re drooling just a smidge, wearing his shirt; it’s a couple sizes too big for you, slipping off your shoulder and exposing your sunkissed skin. as suguru’s eyes trail over your features, the fond smile on his face only grows, shifting into something honeyed and giddy. 

you’re perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect.

a moment passes. then another. suguru continues to stare, as if trying to etch the image of you into his memory. trying to prolong the moment for as long as he can. 

until, finally, he’s had his fill. simply admiring you from afar isn’t enough — he needs to see you up close, needs to hear the sleepy little tilt of your voice. so he opts to make his presence known, voice gravelly and sweet, echoing softly throughout the room.

“good morning, sweetheart.”

softly, your eyes flicker open. the familiar voice sends a tremor of something running through your chest — and suddenly, it feels as if some of the sleep clinging to your skin has been washed away. it’s a little easier to make yourself move, shifting to your side to get a better look at the source of the sound.

and the warmth that blossoms in your chest when your eyes meet suguru’s is almost overwhelming.

(god, he’s pretty.)

suguru looks perfect, in the morning. he looks like the rest of your life. hair a little messy, tied up into a lazy half-done bun, silky black strands cascading down his neck. and wearing a pair of comfy sweatpants that hang a little low on his hips, but no shirt — showing off the curve of his tiny waist, the slight twitch of his arms when he indulges in an idle stretch. 

you try to restrain yourself from ogling his bare chest and arms too much, but it’s tough. frighteningly so. with the sunlight embracing his skin, muscles on full display, he looks a bit like a sculpture. a little too good to be real.

but he is. and he’s yours. and he’s smirking at you, lazily, affectionately — eyes half-lidded as he balances the tray that’s making the room smell so sweet. just standing there, looking so unfairly gorgeous. waiting for you to muster up the energy to respond to his greeting, more than happy to watch the way your eyes soften as they trail across his features in the meantime.

“morning,” is all you can rasp, eyes closing as your cheek sinks deeper into the mattress. a bit too tired to talk to him properly, and a bit too unguarded to look at him without feeling as if your heart is about to leap out of your throat. 

he’s a little too pretty, like this. framed by the hazy sunshine, like something out of a dream. all soft clouds and gentle caresses, the scent of dried lavender, the pitter patter of rain against a windowsill. all things kind and comforting. 

you’re afraid that your heart might give out, if you look at him for too long.

suguru doesn’t seem to mind. he only chuckles, voice deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. his lips quirk up into a smooth kind of smile, and he’s quick to make his way to your side; crouching down to meet you at eye level after placing the tray on the nightstand.

a hand comes to caress your cheek. the rough pads of his fingers smooth down your jaw, gentle and doting, as if coaxing you out of hiding. as if you’re made of porcelain. suguru always treats you like you’re fragile, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

(because you are, he thinks. more precious than the expensive vanilla extract he used to make the waffles on the tray, more precious than the diamond-clad ring he’s hidden away in a drawer of the guest room. more precious than anything this world has to offer.)

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you nuzzle into his palm. suguru leans forward to smear a kiss against your forehead, overcome with fondness; warm lips lingering on your skin.

the sensation strikes you as just a little heavenly. his touch is so tender, every caress so full of love. instinctual, the way his love bleeds into his touch, trickles down his veins to the tips of his fingers — smoothing along your skin. such a heavy thing, but he just makes it feel so light. 

“still sleepy?” he hums, a little teasing. eyes crinkling, voice bordering on a coo.

and it’s infuriating. the amusement that flickers through his eyes, the way you can tell he’s itching to tease you for being so groggy and tired.

between the two of you, suguru’s always been the one to get out of bed first, to your grave annoyance. and he’s so smug about it. you want to tell him that waking up so early on a saturday isn’t normal, that he’s the weird one for not being sleepy — 

but when he’s cupping your cheek so gently, all you manage is a meek little murmur of mm. one that has suguru stifling a coo, lips curling up into an adoring smile. 

look at you. his sleepy little baby, dyed in sunrays and tiny specks of dust. so effortlessly pretty, tangled up in fluffy blankets, an image so precious he almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking at it. yet he continues to do so, mesmerized.

(suguru doesn’t mind being a little greedy, when it comes to you.)

“i made you breakfast,” he continues, as you melt into his touch. an absentminded action, but almost brimming with trust; the trust you have in him to treat you well. one he’ll always, always affirm. “your favorite. wanna eat with me?”

breakfast.

something in your brain visibly reacts to the sound of the word, shooing away a little of the morning fatigue still clouding your senses. before you know it, you’ve forced yourself into a sitting position, with groggy movements and a soft groan. rubbing the skin beneath your eyes and kicking the blanket off your legs, a little clumsily.

suguru breathes out a soft bout of laughter, low and amused, as you lazily stretch and indulge in slow blinks. his hand goes to ruffle your hair, and all you do is lean into it.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he teases, eyes full of fondness. you crack a sleepy smile at his amused tone of voice.

suguru’s hands are big, and a little rough, but still so very soft. you could spend hours tracing them — from the tips of his fingers down to the veins of his wrist, across his knuckles littered with small scratches and barely visible scars. stories of his childhood, that he loves telling you about, almost as much as you love hearing them.

you love his hands. they’re so pretty. so warm and grounding, as they smooth down your hair, unmistakably caring. the weight of them is a comfort, as his fingers card through your bedhead, scratching softly at your scalp. a sensation that makes you feel all fuzzy inside.

suguru is just so good to you.

and you’re only further reminded of that fact when your gaze trails over to the assortment of breakfast foods he’s prepared, neatly stacked on the nightstand. all your favorites, made with so much love; and it’s so evident, even just in the presentation. the freshness of the strawberry slices, the perfect amount of syrup spread over the waffles. the cup of coffee made just the way you like it.

maybe it’s the morning fatigue, or just the softness of the moment. the intimacy, so palpable you can almost reach out and touch it. or maybe it’s something else entirely — whatever the cause, you feel your eyes get somewhat glassy. 

a meek little sniffle leaves your lips, and it catches even you off guard.

suguru blinks. suddenly alert, his morning-fatigued brain trying to comprehend the sight of your teary eyes. brain spinning in circles, not sure if it should be telling him to panic just yet. something in him constricts, twists and turns, a desperate kind of yearning to protect you.

but before he can even reach out to wipe away the wetness with his thumb, you’ve latched yourself onto him.

arms snug around his waist, face tucked under his chin. fitting into him like a puzzle piece. breathing in the remnants of the cologne on his neck; a nice bergamot mix that you like, so he sprays on a little extra just for you. so close to him that you can feel the patter of his heart against you, as you soak in his body warmth. 

and his arms find their way around your form just as naturally, without him even having to think. like every bone in his body was born with a desire to cradle you close. like he was crafted in the image of someone made to soothe you. 

being in suguru’s arms is pure bliss. the most grounding sensation you know, one that never fails to calm you down, no matter how stressed or anxious you’re feeling. with his broad chest and strong arms, his bergamot-scented skin. so doting, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, trying to console you. his hair tickles your cheek a little, but it’s comforting.

”what’s wrong, honey?” he questions, voice set on a low, particularly soothing lilt. coaxing, almost cooing — a tone that buzzes with safety. his big hands go to rest on your head and back, smoothing down your spine.

”nothing,” you sniffle. feeling a little silly. ”you’re just too perfect. ‘s not fair.”

a pause. 

then, a chuckle bubbles up from suguru’s throat. something fond and delightful unfurls in his chest, a kind of relief; a feather-light amusement.

(you’re so ridiculous, he thinks.)

but you only nuzzle further into his neck, all sleepy and affectionate — and it stirs his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel rather helpless. crumbling beneath your touch. gazing at you with soft eyes, a happy little hum buzzing in his throat.

he takes you in, in all your clingy glory; so impossibly sweet. maybe he should have sprinkled some sugar on the strawberry slices, just to see if the taste could ever measure up.

”ah, is that so?” he drawls, a lazy amusement flickering through his eyes. playful. ”i’m sorry, baby. i should be the one saying that to you, though.”

but you just shake your head, arms tightening around his midriff. as if offended that he’d have the audacity to brush off your objectively correct statement, to even think to deny how perfect he is. 

and suguru raises a brow at you, in tandem, a mild protest resting on the tip of his tongue — offended at your blatant disrespect, shaking your head at his factually correct words, as if disagreeing with your own evident perfection. 

but before he can even begin to fight you on the topic, you part your lips to speak.

”thanks for breakfast, sugu,” you sleepily murmur, biting back a yawn. still a little meek, but oh so loving. ”i would die for you.”

he stills, once more. then another soft bout of laughter escapes his lungs, rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm. it makes you feel so terribly safe.

“there’s no need for that,” he assures you. ”don’t you wanna eat instead?”

to his surprise, he’s met with another soft shake of your head. so snug in his embrace that you could practically live there, only clinging to him a little tighter with a huff.

”just wanna hug you first…” you yawn, arms squeezing at his waist affectionately. shifting in his hold until your lips find their way to his neck.

”i love you,” you mumble, kissing down his jaw and collarbone. sleepy, open mouthed pecks, trailing over the expanse of his pretty skin. ”so much.”

it tickles, a little. suguru digs his teeth into his cheek, ever so slightly, just to hold back the giggle that threatens to break out from his throat.

and it’s maybe just a little too sweet, the sensation that blossoms in his chest, something honeyed and flowery; fluttering deep within his ribcage, like a dragonfly buzzing and trying to break free. it gets him a little weak in the knees.

to distract himself from the voice in his head urging him to go get the ring in the guest room drawer right this instant, suguru scoops you up. cradling you close, as he plops down on the mattress, legs crossed to give you space on his lap.

you don’t protest, only snuggling a little closer — as if yearning to tuck yourself away within his ribcage. 

and suguru chuckles, the deep tremor of his voice reverberating through his chest, echoing in your head as you listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. rubbing your back with a teasing smile, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head.

“i should make breakfast more often if it’ll get you like this,” he grins, basking in the warmth of your body against his. 

a little whine falls from your lips. muffled into the curve of his shoulder, against his bare skin. “it’s not about the breakfast,” you pout, looping your arms around his neck. “it’s everything you do…”

a heat rises to your cheeks, a little embarrassed at the sappiness you’re exuding. but the sun feels so nice on your skin, and the bedroom smells so good, and the whole world feels so kind. 

inhaling the fragrance of bergamot and coffee, you can only fall apart at the intimacy of the moment. 

“i’m really grateful…” you murmur, resting your lips against his skin. buzzing with a warmth that has him shuddering. “‘m just bad at expressing it.”

suguru’s eyes soften. melting into a tender hue, like that of a creamsicle sunrise sky. a dreamy look smoothes over his features, and a fond hum buzzes in his throat.

“nah, you’re fine,” he drawls, squeezing at your hips affectionately. pulling away ever so slightly, just to plant a kiss on your forehead, brushing your bangs away with a certain bleeding tenderness. “you don’t need to say it out loud. i know, anyway.”

and he does. suguru understands you better than anyone; a point of immense pride, for him. knowing you so deeply that he can practically hear your thoughts before you speak them, knowing what you need at a single glance. just from a certain furrow of your brows, or the slight tilt of a smile you’re trying to hide. 

always one step ahead, folding your laundry on days you’re feeling particularly stressed out, or giving your hand a comforting squeeze when he notices that you’re nervous. always so attentive. it’s a little overwhelming, but also so comforting — to be so thoroughly understood.

his eyes are warm. full of pure affection, a devotion so heavy it makes your heart stutter in your chest. all you can do is glance down, shyly, slumping your forehead against his bare chest. 

your voice comes out a little strangled, still raspy. a little wobbly in the wake of your adoration.

“i wanna appreciate you…” is muffled against his skin, your lips curled down into a soft pout. and suguru breathes out a flustered little breath, amused — somewhat delighted.

“you can appreciate me by eating a hearty breakfast,” he suggests, a teasing tilt to his husky voice. cradling you just a little closer, as if even the miniscule distance between you is unbearable. as if he needs your hearts pressed together to keep himself intact. “how about that, hm? or would you rather give me a kiss?”

a moment passes, and a sleepy hum slips from your tongue. he feels your lips touch the soft skin of his neck, once more; then you muster up the strength to pull back from his embrace, slumping against his shoulder with your back against the headboard. it takes concentrated effort.

and suguru chuckles, again. odd, how a man who’s normally so put-together can’t seem to ever hide his joy whenever you’re around. but suguru is just a little too weak for you — he can’t help but let you strum his heartstrings along, however you want. any kind of melody you desire.

(it just so happens that no melody sounds prettier than a joyous one, when it’s falling from his lips.)

a lovesick smile painted on his face, suguru watches as you finally dig in. and he thinks it’s precious, the strawberry juice smearing your lips, the contentment in your features as your eyelids flutter shut. a mellow kind of pride swells in his chest with every satisfied hum that you grace him with, every giddy declaration of how delicious it all is. 

there’s something about it he can’t quite explain, can’t put his finger on. something almost otherworldly, in how fulfilled it makes him feel, like he’s lived his entire life just for this moment. just for the sake of making you breakfast and watching you wolf it all down.

suguru doesn’t think there's a single better way to show his love for you than this; cooking for you, putting every last drop of his love into everything he makes. from beverages to pastries, each of them carefully chosen to suit your tastes.

there’s an intensity to the labour, something that brings him great joy. the care and excitement in something as small as the flick of his wrist when he pours sugar into your coffee, or the weight he puts on the kitchen knife while cutting the fresh strawberries he spent four minutes picking out at the market.

there’s something about it that’s just so, so tender. that earnest wish to see you happy and healthy, to make sure you never go hungry. taking care of you. it's pure, domestic, love incarnate. he’s so weak for it, so sappy, but he just can’t help it — suguru loves watching you eat his cooking more than anything.

that, and your blissful little expression is a sight to behold. sunkissed by the morning rays flitting in through the window blinds, suguru thinks you look something like an angel, soft and fleeting and so beautiful it makes his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. heavy thumps of blood; warmth trickling from his heart to his wrists to the pads of his fingers, as he rubs absentminded circles into the skin of your thighs.

and he thinks to himself that all the happiness he needs is right here in front of him. in this moment, with you tiredly munching on the breakfast he made, sipping slowly from your cup of coffee and savouring every last drop. smiling at him so sweetly, so positively precious that he simply can't resist leaning down to taste the caffeine off your lips. 

everything feels so wonderful, so completely and utterly right. the world feels so kind, like this. a world where all that exists is you, and him, and the sun. heaven on earth.

all of it sends a tremor running through his heart, every slight change of the scene reflected in his eyes. the soft smile on your lips, the way you lean your head against his shoulder and bite back a yawn, the expectant look in your eyes as you feed him pieces of your food with a giddy grin —

suguru thinks to himself that he’d sooner die than give it up. 

as much as he loves sleeping in, loves indulging in your warmth until the sun sits comfortably on the blue canvas of the sky, he loves this even more. loves dragging himself out of bed before the sun even has a chance to peek out beneath the horizon painted pink and purple, tired and groggy, and so disgruntled at the warmth that leaves him when he pulls away from your skin. loves making his way to the kitchen almost in a daze, moving around the open space so very naturally; fingers curling around the lid of the espresso machine, and the crinkled paper bag of pastries, and the carton of orange juice he bought just for you.

just watching the world wake up, basking in the peace and domesticity of it all. basking in the thought of you — you, with your messy bedhead and droopy eyes, always blinking up at him so sleepily when he returns to you in the morning. he loves it all.

the soft little frown that sometimes tugs at your lips when you’re still lost in dreamland, blindly and subconsciously reaching for the empty side of the bed when he gets up to stretch. the weight of your arms around his waist, hugging his back on the somewhat rare occasion that you make your way to him before he makes his way to you. the grumbles against his skin about how he always abandons you on your days off, even if he only does it so he can make you both coffee.

you, in all your glory — now resting against his shoulder as you plop the last strawberry into your mouth, closing your eyes with a blissful little sigh.

and suguru feels so lucky. so very honoured, to be the one you chose. the one and only person who gets to see you like this, when your voice is still raspy and your hair is still messy, and you have crumbs sticking to your soft lips that you're too sleepy to wipe away.

he does so, himself, with an amused little huff that’s really more of a sigh laced with adoration. thumb smoothing over your skin gently, a silent i love you hanging on the tip of his tongue. his fingers find their way to your skin so effortlessly. like they belong there, like they exist solely to trace the softness of your jaw and to cradle your cheek.

”thank you,” you beam up at him, grinning sweetly. 

and suguru knows that you mean it. he knows that you’re grateful, knows not a moment goes by when you don’t notice his affections, no matter how subtle. he thinks you're a little bit silly for worrying that he doesn't. but he thinks you're even sillier for not realizing that you deserve all of it and more, that just that sweet smile of yours alone is more than enough to make up for it.

more than anything, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that you know the opposite is true as well. that he appreciates every single thing you do, notices everything you do for him, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you.

you're so good to him. always have been. how could he ever bear to not repay you in tenfold?

”you’re welcome,” he smiles, soft and saccharine and genuine. his lips brush against your forehead with a soft peck, one that has your body melting into his just a little more.

breakfast passes you both by in a flurry of warmth, splotches of sunlight and content hums, until you’re lying side by side beneath the blankets once again. curled up close to each other, with you resting on suguru’s chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart. his arm rests on your back, cradling you closer.

”that was delicious,” you chirp, something soft buzzing in your voice as you bite back a yawn. stretching your limbs out lazily, a honeyed smile on your face. ”as always.”

suguru’s a little too tired to fully hide the soft grin that crawls up to rest on his lips, almost smug. awfully happy with himself, and your words of earnest praise.

“yeah? ’m glad,” he hums, looking at you with affection swimming in his eyes. ”i haven’t lost my touch yet, then.”

”of course not,” you exhale, somewhere in between a huff and a chirp. “you could start a whole breakfast diner with your skills!”

the words are teasing, a little much, but laced with a syrupy sweet sincerity that has suguru’s heart doing laps in his chest. thump, thump, thump — strumming his heartstrings along as you please, conducting the orchestra inside his ribcage. but he’d much prefer to think of you as his muse.

a low chuckle rumbles through his body, akin to a purr. buzzing right by your ear, as his fingers curl around yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your hand. ”you think so?” 

an eager nod, as you gaze up at him happily. the sight makes his lips twitch upward, and he can only hope you don’t catch the way his heart skips a beat.

smoothing a large palm over your head, he tousles your hair fondly. ”yeah?” he chuckles, again. “you'll be my first customer, then.”

the smile on your face widens. ”will i get a discount?” you ask, a fuzzy contentment in the way your eyes glimmer. ”since i’m your favorite.”

suguru grins. a husky puff of laughter seeps out of his throat, filling the air with a palpable fondness. it’s almost overwhelming, the affection that simmers in his chest, a cup overflowing. he wants to reach over and smother you in kisses, wants to coo at you. wants to tell you how irresistable you are, like this; so cute and sleepy that he thinks you could probably coax him into giving you every star in the sky.

but that can all wait for another time. he doesn’t want to break the peace of the mellow moment, the subtle intimacy that lingers in the air. the playfulness in your words.

”of course,” he simply says, indulging you with a sweet smile. ”you’ll get all the discounts you want, baby. nothing less for my favorite customer.”

suguru’s eyes crinkle, brimming with love when he hears the happy little giggle that tumbles from your pretty lips. so pretty that he can’t resist pulling you a little closer, to give you another kiss — relishing in the way you soften against him. like you could fall asleep just like this, so safe and comfortable. breathing him in.

sunlight shines in through the window blinds, engulfing you in that familiar heavenly hue. your bedroom almost seems to glow, like a hazy polaroid, a moment that feels too precious to put into words. 

you look stunning, he thinks, with your droopy eyes and sleepy yawns. absolutely breathtaking. soaked in a brightness rivaling that of the sun herself, the most precious thing this world has to offer.

and suguru thinks to himself that this might just be it. that this might be all that he needs, all that he’ll ever need — but he already knew that.

he thinks of sunrises. of soft embraces and fluffy blankets, of expensive coffee pots and diamond rings, of the way your lips curl up every time he kisses you. he thinks of the light of morning, how it always seems to devour everything else. how it makes every sliver of darkness seem so inconsequential.

he thinks of how your presence always seems to do the same. 

when suguru looks down, pulled out of his lovesick stupor by the sound of a little snore, you’ve fallen back asleep. cheek squished against his bare chest, drooling a smidge as you dream so prettily, your chest rising up and down in a rhythmic serenity.

his heart flutters. fleeting and giddy, a little dove trapped in his chest. with a sweet coo, he reaches over to caress your skin with the back of his hand, careful not to wake you — so gentle that he holds his breath, as if afraid that even a single exhale could disrupt your well-deserved rest. 

butterflies dance in his stomach, when he sees the way that makes you smile. a whirlwind of them, wings fluttering eagerly, as if attempting to fly out of his throat. he gulps them down again, but he can still feel them. just like he could when you first met.

butterflies that still haven't gone away, despite how long you’ve been together. butterflies that never will go away, as long as there are plates to fill and breakfasts to be made.

in other words, they're there to stay — forever and ever.

(suguru’s gaze falls on your ring finger. he thinks of the secret in the bottom of the drawer, and wonders what kind of breakfast he should make for you when it’s time to bring it out.)

---

cw: face fucking, erm scent kink! like a lot of that, pretty nasty actually..., self indulgence is an art, established relationship, praise kink, reader is referred to as a girl, yeah >:3, 18+. masterlist.

the sun beats down on the courtyard, rays of gold reflecting off of half-empty drinking glasses. it’s a small, quaint little nook, an open expanse of laid bricks and curling vines and tiny, blossoming flowers crawling up the sides of the house.

how many hours have you spent with toji out here, early in the morning over coffee and soft chatter, or deep into the hazy night, running on love and adrenaline? for you, it’s like a respite from the world, a safe, private spot to just be.

sleepy sounds whisper throughout the town, childish laughter and rumbling cars a distant echo from your place at the end of the street, sequestered from onlookers and fenced in by the area you laze in now.

there’s enough room for a delicate wire table and the seats to match, and not much else, save for your lounge chair. it’s off to the side, partially hidden in shadows so the sun is just warming your feet. this way, you have a direct, unfiltered and unmarred view of what’s in front of you.

sweat. it covers his body, traces the lines of his muscles in glittering sunlight. a gleaming sheen of it coats all of his bare skin (which is most of it), and every time he moves, tendons tensing and abdomen rippling with exertion, the sweat beads together, rolling under the waistband of his gym shorts and lost in the dark trail of thick hair on his lower belly. the early day sun renders him soft around the edges and ethereal, setting him alight in an otherworldly glow.

his skin is a pool of glitter, tan and smooth and sparkling. with each breath puffed from his fuzzy, built chest, his broad shoulders rise, the sound of his labored breathing filling the courtyard. the lines of his stomach point like an arrowhead to what’s beneath his shorts. he’s going to kill you.

the weights clink as he drops them to the ground. you aren’t sure how heavy they are, but that’s not important, not when he’s stretching out and grunting before you, tossing you an easy smile as he looks up into the sun, head tilted back, eyes shut. some strands of hair are matted to his forehead, the others blowing with the breeze and shiny in the light. his stubble is a day old—you know that because you sat on the counter and watched him shave, your thumb gliding across the newly soft skin once he’d finished.

if he’s ever been bothered by your shameless ogling, he’s never showed it. even now, his quirked lips are nothing short of a beam as you drink him in, your eyes traveling across his honed body, how it flexes and bunches and twists.

he turns slightly, like he’s performing for your warm gaze, and stretches his arm over his head, the muscles of his back straining beneath slick, taut flesh, and though his grin is hidden, you know it’s at its widest, because he knows this is nothing short of torture to you, that he’s only spurring you on.

as he basks in the sun, you slide from your chair with feline stealth, your steps silent when you sneak your way over to him. his laugh is low and throaty when you plaster yourself to his back, your arms wrapping around his torso, cheek pressed into his damp flesh.

“i’m all gross,” he hums, twisting himself so he can face you. his thumb lovingly grazes your cheek, earthy eyes lidded. “how about i shower, and then we—”

your fingers twine with the short hair at the nape of his neck, and you give him a firm tug, pulling him to meet your lips. his hand catches around your waist, smiling mouth meeting yours, and what was a fleeting kiss becomes something searing; ablaze—like the skin of his chest and back, like the hands that dig into your sides. his words are lost into soft pants and the lulling wind, fingers anchoring into your flesh in an increasingly desperate grip.

he breaks first, laughing against your neck. “let me—”

the laid bricks of the courtyard are unforgiving on your knees, solid and sizzling from the sun. he blinks down at you (cute, considering he’s rarely caught off guard by you), the words dying in his throat when you palm at his bulge, squeezing the flimsy material of his shorts. the weight is warm in your palm, and for a moment, he seems resigned to letting you paw at him, his chest rising with renewed heaves.

his hand wraps around your wrist, attempting to still you. “what are you—”

“let”—you pull his hand off your wrist, shoving it to his side—”me do this.”

“here?” he persists, voice wobbly, knees much the same. his eyes drop to your position on the ground, then to his own state. an abortive examination of himself, the film of sweat on his gold skin, and then—“now?”

it isn’t hard to picture the thoughts flitting throughout his head, and you almost coo at the tenderness of the question, a kind consideration that would be lost on anyone who doesn’t know him as well as you do. you giggle, the sound ricocheting off the walls of the courtyard, and he twitches under your fondling, his eyes a dark, foggy juniper, twinkling and owlish. cute—his cheeks are pink, and he’s half-hard beneath your hand, and it’s cute. the sound makes his own lips quirk, despite himself.

“here.” your cheek nudges his bulge, eyes catching his while you do it. his head falls back, blissed, perfect. “now.”

his eyes flutter open, melting into yours, watching your lips form the words and graze his shorts. this is when he can push you away, when he can help you off your knees and sit you on the bed while you wait for him to shower—when he can grimace and step back and leave you crestfallen. he won’t—you know that, you know him, and when all he does is graze his thumb over your cheekbone, scar raising with his crooked smile, you almost whimper.

fuck—the spot between your thighs is taking on that dull, telltale ache, one that isn’t soothed with just an imperceptible squeeze.

wordlessly, you hook your fingers under the waistband of his gym shorts, clumsy and desperate as you yank them down his thighs. this time, you don’t bother strangling the needy noise that slips out. his cock is nearly erect and glistening at the tip, sack heavy and full behind it, and his hard stomach clenches reflexively when you peer up at him, chest moving like crashing waves.

the dark hair that starts at his stomach grows denser the lower it moves down his body, a thick patch making up his pubes. it twinkles in the sunlight, highlighted with sweat. if you ran your tongue over it, he’d probably taste like salt and tang, the body of a working man who pushes himself to his limits. he’s divine, edible—he’ll be your ruin, you think, and the thought makes your brain simmer, cluttered with the heady scent and earthy taste of him.

wandering hands find his ass, nails dig deep into the fuzzy skin to tug him closer, pulling him to your face. without the barrier of his thin shorts, your nose bumps his balls, and you absorb the scent of his clean, sharp musk, let it melt away the throbbing of your core to something needier—something more desperate.

you push aside his thick cock and run your tongue up his balls, nipping at the sensitive flesh, and distantly, you hear him curse, a hand tangling in your hair, firm as it pulls you off.

his eyes are on fire when you glance up at him again, big hands cupping both of your cheeks, dwarfing your face.

“open,” he purrs, tilting you so your mouth nearly grazes his flushed, leaking tip. “taste me.”

he smells so good and he tastes even better. your lips part and you take his tip in your mouth, collecting the pre pooling from his slit. you both moan—it’s so perfect, and when his hips stutter, you take even more of him into your mouth, slackening your jaw for an easier glide. your head bumps the paneling of your house, his knuckles softening the impact as he pushes just. a little. deeper—

“fucking—yes.” his groan reverberates through you when he begins to breach your throat, and your nose hits the black hair at his base. he’s tart here, and it makes you drool, makes it drip from your mouth and down your shirt—”open up for me, sweetheart—you can take it—”

you lurch forward and convulse, gagging around the intrusion of his length down your throat, and he braces himself with a hand on the side of the house, reluctantly dragging himself from the wet warmth. god—he’s trembling. you’re making him tremble, the debauchery of your hot, tight mouth and glassy eyes and slick, messy chin. his shiny cock jerks before your eyes, eager to seat itself back inside you, where it belongs.

“good—you’re so good,” he soothes, wiping the liquid off your chin with his thumb. “you know that, right? that you’re my good girl?”

he loosens his grip on your head, lets you nod in his hands while you catch your breath, and when you look back up into his eyes, past his hard, wet cock, he matches the love reflected in yours, and it has you shifting on his knees, deepening your breathing to take him in again. your tongue teases the covered tip, slipping under his skin there and tasting his desire for you, and he chokes on a reverent grunt, unable to fight the instinct to reclaim your throat.

it’s easier this time—maybe your resolve is hardened after seeing the flare in his eyes when you held him for the first time as deep as you could, because this time around, he’s able to pull out and push back in, leaning on an arm for support as the other guides your head with a tender hand.

“perfect,” he breathes, finding his rhythm in the solace of your mouth. “perfect for me. relax your jaw and just—yeah, yeah.”

his movements morph into thrusts, each roll of his hips punctuated by an obscene noise from your throat, a shudder of your shoulders as he chases his high. you dig your nails deep into his thighs, focusing on his weak, impulsive grunts as he surrenders to the sensations and quickens his plunging.

“d-do you want me to”—a confirming nod from you and a moan to match—”fuck—want me to come down your throat?”

he moves impossibly deep in and out of your mouth, his dripping balls smacking your chin. when you blink away the tears and look up—when you make eye contact in the midst of all this—his eyes roll into the back of his head, fingers knotting in your hair, jerking you onto his pulsing shaft like a vessel for his pleasure, and you can’t even prepare for the onslaught—

big hands cradling your jaw. your nose, buried in muggy skin and coarse hair. the loudest moan you’ve heard so far from him, and then, the couple of reckless thrusts that come from the satisfaction of climax. your throat works to swallow what he gives you, milking him until he almost whimpers, releasing your face from his cupped palms.

carefully, he pulls out. watches you lick your lips and rub uselessly at the mess you created together on your face. notices how you squeeze your thighs together, seeking friction.

and you’re up in an instant, his hand in yours. the sliding door to the courtyard flies open.

“what—”

what? what do you mean, what? he practically launches you into your living room, shutting the door behind you and shoving you to the couch. his shorts are barely pulled up, thighs smeared with your drool and his cum. he assumes the position you’d been in, wordlessly kneeling before you, spreading you out, spreading you open.

what? he’s just returning the favor.

---

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 

And you were just extra baggage. 

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 

~

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 

~

Satoru appears first. 

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 

He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 

"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 

"For what?" 

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 

"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 

And so did Suguru. 

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 

"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 

"Good." You respond. "You?" 

"Good." 

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 

But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 

Suguru frowns, troubled. 

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 

"I love you." 

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 

He's miserable. 

You did this. This was all you. 

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 

 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 

"But what?" You press. 

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 

~

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 

"You'll see!" You chirp back. 

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 

Shoko freezes mid-sip. 

"What?" She asks. 

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 

"Oh." You breathe. 

"Oh." Utahime whispers. 

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 

"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 

"I-I-" You give up. 

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 

"Do you want us?" 

You take a deep breath. 

You nod. 

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 

You break away, panting. 

"You good?" She asks. 

You nod. 

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 

"What?" 

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 

Shoko slaps your thigh. 

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 

"Awake?" She asks. 

"Yeah." You softly say back. 

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 

"I'm gonna get food." 

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 

"What do you want?" She prompts. 

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 

The interaction makes your heart warm. 

Still, it can't last. 

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 

"And where are you going?" She prods. 

You fumble. "Back to my room?" 

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 

You laugh. 

"That's not a joke." She warns. 

"I know." And you kiss her again. 

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 

Everything was just perfect. 

And then, it just wasn't. 

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 

The living room is horrific. 

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 

Suguru doesn't even blink. 

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 

But you know you aren't expecting...that. 

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 

You step back. They step forward. 

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 

He smiles again. 

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 

The worst part is that everything was your fault. 

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 

Satoru halts. You caught him. 

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 

"You missed us?" He wonders. 

The lie feels like sand. 

"More than anything." 

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 

"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 

And then, he grins. 

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 

~

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

---

you met your soulmate in a graveyard.

for years, you wondered how you would meet. trace the name on your arm with reverence and childhood fascination with the promise that having a soulmate held. of a fairytale with a happy ending.

then, the name on your arm faded.

but boy, did it burn first.

one day you were sitting in class. then, you bowled over, off your chair, onto the floor, desperately clutching you arm. screaming, sobbing, and howling in pain as the characters burned against your skin and slowly faded from your being, no longer your constant reminder of the loving life promised to you. of the soul entrusted to you.

you were excused early that day.

you spent the next (many) days after mourning.

your love. your future. your life.

(how do you mourn someone you've never met?)

then, you started your search.

obituaries. funeral notices. news networks on the internet.

until you found him, on one rural news network that was so remote you wondered why it even had a website.

haibara yu. 17. dead.

died from an accident outside of his boarding school.

you finally found him in that graveyard, yu having been brought close to home to be with the rest of his family (supposedly).

and that's when you collapse in front of his tombstone, clutching your other arm and staring in dizzying, horrendous, mind-shattering pain as characters burned themselves along your flesh.

as the burning simmers, you notice the hand on your shoulder. you notice as it goes from soft to taut.

tracing the hand, you look up at him and tearily take in your new soulmate.

nanami kento scowls down at you.

---

author’s notes: as soon as i saw that satoru didn’t like this usami dude i knew i had to write this.

satoru had a growing suspicion that the usami guy — whom he couldn’t stand by the way — had a crush on you.

it’s so obvious to satoru, his six eyes burn with the assurance; ever since you and usami have been assigned to remaster the archives and check all of the reports since you two were the closest to higher-ups. at first, of course, when gojo heard that you won’t be taking all of the work onto yourself he was very much glad, good for you, but when usami appeared — that sleazy smirk and lazy look on face, the white haired man got kinda tense.

usami acted so different around you it made satoru go crazy whenever he noticed.

the way the tall brunette shamelessly leaned over you by the table as he read into the paper you showed him. the way he sat with his bony knee touching yours and his shoulder bumped into you whenever he passed you, for which he gave you an apologetic smile and patted your arm for too long.

satoru absolutely hated the way usami’s eyes softened whenever he looked at you and the way his voice turned hushed as if you’d be bothered in any way from his usual indifferent tone.

and it felt like that the fucking asshole knew how much it pissed satoru off and continued doing it so shamelessly and calmly just because the higher-ups wouldn’t replace him no matter what. ‘too much of an important asset’ his ass.

his eyes transforming into cold stones laced with triumph over him as he locked his gaze with satoru’s from across the room and whispered something into your ear. or when his thin lips twisted in the ugliest fucking smirk satoru’s ever seen — he truly hated the man.

don’t get him wrong: satoru trusted you wholeheartedly, he just didn’t trust that lapdog. he even complained about it to you, which you dismiss because usami is a great asset when it comes to the history of the whole jujutsu society and the tokyo branch where all of you are settled, he is a walking encyclopaedia and he knows a lot more than everyone because he basically acts like a teacher’s pet to higher-ups.

“i haaate that dude. he used to be mean to ijichi and he wants to steal my girl now? ridiculous!” which was kind of true — usami and ijichu were from the same year, but the latter got scrutinised a lot for choosing the job of an auxiliary manager instead of a sorcerer, needless to say.

you chuckled, not looking away from your papers as you stroked the back of his head, fingers scratching on his undercut, “look at you, defending ijichi when you bully him almost every day. i’m very proud.”

“hey! i’m always just joking around. usami is the real bully here.”

“right.” you nodded dismissively, shutting the manila folder in your hand as you stood up from your chair. satoru patiently waited as you tidied up the desk in the archive room, leaning against the other one, right when the door opened with an ugly squeak and usami came in, holding two identical cups of coffee.

“brought us some coffee— oh.” his eyes scanned satoru’s figure with a disappointed look, not giving him any verbal acknowledgement, before focusing on you, questioning, “i thought you were going to stay with me for the night?”

the choice of words is deliberate, spiteful with the purpose of egging satoru; which did piss him off a little bit, his hand squeezing around your waist in an attempt to ground himself. his mouth was still free though, so he didn’t hold back as his other hand grabbed one of the cups from usami’s hand, taking a big gulp from it and forcing his face not to twist in disgust from it’s taste(it just didn’t have any sugar).

he shrugged his shoulders, faux apology on his face as he smiled down at the brunette, “sorry, man, she’s busy with me.”

the tone of his voice didn’t leave any room for further inquiry so satoru just pulled you in for a quick kiss and guided you to the exit, turning his head to check on usami’s face one last time. the pure disappointment and resentment that covered his features was enough to make satoru smirk, which usami noticed, disdain adding into his expression.

“your coffee’s shit by the way.” satoru said right after letting you out of the room and then followed suit, not interested in usami’s reaction anymore.

“his coffee is good though. it’s from colombia.” you snickered, arm wrapping around satoru’s waist as you both walked through the hallway.

“no drink is good without sugar in it.” he threw the cup into the nearest thrash can and pulled you into his side, finally calm and satisfied with himself again.

---

at some point in his life, nanami accepts the fact that he started relying on you for some things. not in a sense that he is disappointed by that, no way, but rather surprised since the only person he’s relied on throughout his life was himself.

trusting you came even easier than loving you; all you had to do was give him a reassuring smile and he was ready to let go of the walls he’s built, rationality deceiving him as soon as he decided that you were it for him.

so it became a normal occurrence for him to rely on you to wake him up if he ever forgot to set an alarm after a late night filled with drinks and passion because your sense of responsibility doesn’t disappear after a couple of drinks whereas kento chooses to let go with you.

nanami chooses to rely on you to make a list of groceries that needs to be restocked and things that he tends to be dismissive about, like the cheese he doesn’t know is his favourite or the type of tea he prefers. because you seem to care about these things as much as him.

he chooses to rely on you to fill in an additional report without him asking you — gaze nervous and tone embarrassed as he goes on about another mission he was assigned to do and how he hates to bother you, but you are only beaming at him and assuring him that you’d do anything for him to be able to breathe in a little deeper, a little less weight on his shoulders.

kento chooses to rely on you to have his back on a dangerous mission just like he has yours. to call his name just in time for him to dodge and stand behind him whenever he motions for you to do, one arm extended to push you back if anything serious occurs. because protecting you is like a second nature to him and having you look after him is a blessing.

nanami chooses to rely on you to remind him of the mundane things he has to do — buying bread, helping with the laundry, going to the new shop down the street, meeting with yuuji outside of jujutsu tech — and he lives for the proud gleam in your eyes whenever he shows his gratitude for reminding him.

it feels good. it feels right. so it’s no surprise that when you leave for a lengthy trip overseas to help another sorcerer out, nanami is harshly reminded of where exactly you stand in his life.

you aren’t there to come home with him or greet him when he comes home late so the lights turn on only in the living room and not in the whole apartment like you choose to do.

you aren’t there to hand him your coat so he can hang it by his own, hurriedly taking off your shoes because you want to go to the bathroom very badly, glaring at him for chuckling at your antics. his coat hangs alone and he hates the sight.

you aren’t there to heat the leftovers for a quick dinner with him, to look through nearby places where you could eat some tasty food so nanami doesn’t even open the fridge. tells himself he’ll eat something in the morning so he could be truthful when answering your worried texts.

you aren’t there to undo his tie or unbutton his shirt with that sultry look you give him, inviting him to get lost in yourself and giving him an option to decline because you see that he is also tired and you are just sweet like that. so he falls asleep in his work clothes and regrets doing so in the morning.

you remind him to do some things over quick texts and calls, assuring him that it’s fine if he is too tired to clean or cook and that you’ll be home soon, and kento tries his best to show you that he’s been fine when, in fact, he hasn’t been and he very much needs you back.

but he obviously doesn’t expect your surprise early comeback so it’s extremely embarrassing for him to be found by you in such position: sleeping on the couch in the living room, coat still on, head lolled back onto the head of the couch and snoring like an old man.

kento wakes up to your gentle caressing and sweet cooing as you look at him with such tenderness he wants to throw himself out of the window. he gasps a little as he comes back to his senses, realising that you’re indeed real and not a dream, and sits straighter before pulling you into an embrace. partially to hide his disappointment with himself.

“kento, are you okay? why aren’t you in bed? and why are you still in your work clothes?” you ask in worry as you rub his back with one hand while the other scratches the prickly hair of his undercut, and nanami finds himself relaxing into you despite the fact that his neck is killing him from sleeping with such poor posture. “the lights were off so i thought you were already asleep in the bedroom. please don’t tell me you spent every night like this?”

well… at first he didn’t, but later on he kind of did so nanami spares your little heart and decides that lying right now wouldn’t be so bad.

“no, angel, i was just really tired.” he pulls back, warm palm cupping your face as he smiles fondly at you. “i’m so glad to have woken up to such a beautiful sight.”

you bloom under the spell of his sweet words and the perceptive scrutiny of your gaze changes into joy and affection, your lips pressing a few short kisses against the curled edges of his mouth. nanami can only capture your lips with his to show his appreciation for you and how much he missed you, thinking that if he won’t tell you verbally he will definitely show you how much of a difference you make in his life just by existing in it. how happy you make him.

---

Werewolf // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Werewolf!Geto x Fem!Reader, Alpha!Geto x Omega!Reader, A/B/O mechanics, marking, scenting, nesting, fated mates, description of violence including murder, NSFW, MDNI

Synopsis: Suguru knew you were his before you even presented as an omega, but the pack elders did not take too kindly to him marking you at such a young age. He kills anyone who gets in his way to you.

An: If you don’t like a/b/o or omegaverse, skip this one :3. If you’re a freak like me, enjoy! Also, this was my first time making my own banner in Canva.. what are we thinking?? I am also so sorry that this one is so late.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.”

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Living in a small pack has its perks. Everyone is protective over one another and will always offer to help no matter what. Pack relations are strongest when the pack is smaller, and the pack is more likely to survive.

There are, of course, some cons as well. Everyone knows your business, and everyone wants a say in how you live your life.

For the longest you can remember, Suguru has been by your side. You two would spend a lot of time down at the creek together as kids. You two practically learned everything together: how to hunt, fish, trap, and forage.

He was your insistent shadow, and the pack elders thought it was adorable when you two were younger. He would without fail abandon the other small children to always go hang out with you. The two of you were like little partners in crime together.

Though their adoration turned to concern when Suguru never quite left your side. In fact, it was getting worse as he grew older. By the time he turned 13, He was abandoning hunting trips early to come home to you. He’d sneak out of his tent to go to yours late at night. Your parents would have to kick him out every morning, chastising both of you.

Though, the straw that broke the camel’s back wasn’t simple sleepovers and abandoned hunting trips. It was when he presented as an alpha. Everyone knew he would with how physically gifted he was as a young teen. He was also too damn protective for his own good, going as far as to breaking another kid’s nose for simply grabbing your wrist.

You were only a few months younger than Suguru, but you hadn’t presented yet. When he presented first, your parents forbade him from sleeping over. They were just trying their best to protect you. You two were “too old” and “not old enough” at the same time to be sleeping together.

Suguru, given that he now had the talk from his parents, knew what your parents were suggesting, but he hated it. He didn’t understand how your parents could think so lowly of him overnight just from presenting.

He lasted three nights. Three whole nights of not snuggling against you, not smelling your hair while you two drifted off to sleep, not hearing your soft snores in the dead of night. It was three sleepless nights.

Suguru always had an inkling that you were his. It was a rather strange feeling of possession, like he shouldn’t have to listen to your parents’ rules because you weren’t theirs. You were his.

His frustration only heightened when the pack started to impose longer hunting trips on him. Shorter hunting trips were reserved for those who hadn’t presented and mated alphas. Since they were mated, they couldn’t be away from their mate for too long; thus, getting the smaller trips.

All these things led him to the conclusion: you’re his mate, and he needed to mark you to prove it.

After a particularly taxing hunting trip, Suguru’s eyes filtered through the camp. Everyone was as painfully jovial as usual: sitting around doing absolutely fuck all. His eyes landed on you, and he could feel the tension melting away from him almost instantaneously. You were in charge of looking after the small children, even though you yourself were still a child.

His feet stomped over toward you without a second thought, and his hand wrapped around your arm tightly, pulling you along behind him.

“Ah- Sugu. Where are we going? I’m working-!” You shout as he continues to drag you along silently. “Sugu- The kids…” You murmur as the two of you head further into the forest.

“They’ll be fine for a few minutes.” He responded calmly before he glanced behind him. The camp was far enough away now. No one would be able to see the two of you unless they were specifically looking for you.

“What are we doing, Sugu?” You asked with a small nervous smile. You had started to have to look up at him these days. It was as if he was growing taller overnight. No longer just a boy.

He also started to stink — well, it wasn’t like a smelly smell, but it was unfamiliar. Your parents had explained pheromones. You didn’t particularly like them since you hadn’t presented yet.

“I need you to sit still, and don’t scream.” He instructed before he dipped his head between your shoulder and jaw. He experimentally sniffed at your neck — completely scentless. The only smell coming from you was your strawberry shampoo that he had grown accustomed to.

“Why would I-“ His large hand covered your mouth before you could get out another word, and he opened his mouth before clamping down on your neck. His K9’s punctured your skin, allowing for blood to trickle down your skin.

A pained cry fled your mouth, but it was muffled by his hand. Suguru felt his heart begin to race. It was happening. You were finally officially his. No one could tell him otherwise — not even your silly parents.

He calmly reassured you that you were okay while you softly wept. Your hand covered the bloody mark on your neck. He was just marking you. You know, like it was no big deal.

After sweetly kissing your tears away, he proudly walked you back to camp once you had calmed down from crying, satisfied with himself. Your hands were laced together like true mates.

The first to immediately notice was Satoru, another alpha who was barely a year older than Suguru. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of your marked neck.

“Suguru, what did you do?” He asks like a mother scolding her son. Usually, this was the other way around. Satoru would’ve never expected Suguru to do something as reckless as this.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Satoru. I just marked her.” He shrugs nonchalantly, still so proud of himself.

“You don’t understand. She hasn’t presented. This isn’t good. We need to-“

Your face was flushed a bright red, and Satoru could see your breath becoming more and more labored with each passing second. He frantically looked around, trying to think of what to do. Suguru probably didn’t even know that he just inadvertently forced your body to present. Having been marked, your body was now plummeting itself into a heat.

Suguru could feel you gently tugging on his hand, trying to get his attention. When he looked back at you, his eyes widened. He could tell what your body was going through, but he was just a boy. He didn’t know how to handle it.

“What are you three up to? Why aren’t the children being tended to-“ A clan elder asked after seeing the small children running around without you to watch them. His eyes landed on you, and he immediately tensed up at the scene. “What- How… Geto.”

*** *** ***

“He’s just a boy!” Suguru’s mom pleaded with tears in her eyes. Her hands clasped the young boy’s shoulders. “He has a whole life ahead of him! Don’t do this to him.”

“You’re right. He is just a boy, so it was your responsibility to teach him about these things.” A pack elder spoke.

“He’s an alpha. Even if they taught him those things, he would’ve acted on his own volition anyways.” Another spoke.

“Who even allowed him to be around her? He was suppose to be on a hunting trip, no?”

“We got back early. It was my responsibility, but we were carrying back a large buck. My mind was preoccupied. I accept full responsibility for his actions.”

“You can’t take on the full burden of responsibility. Geto is old enough to know right from wrong, and he chose the wrong path. He took that girl in the woods and marked her before she even presented as an omega.” The pack leader spoke.

Suguru stood completely motionless in front of his parents. He stayed looking down at the ground. While they argued over his future in the pack, his mind was stuck on you. They had ripped you away from him the second that the pack elder had realized that your body was in heat. He wondered if you were being taken care of okay. He wondered if you missed him as much as he missed you already. He wondered if he’d get to see you again.

“He’s done so much for this pack at such a young age. Please.. Don’t do this to him. He has his whole life ahead of him.” His mother pleaded once again. “We’ll keep a closer eye on him. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

“What about my daughter’s life?” Your dad finally spoke up after being silent for far too long. “That bastard tainted her. She could’ve presented as anything: alpha, beta, or omega, but no, he forced biology upon her with a godforsaken mark. He should be shunned from the pack.”

“He can’t be allowed to be in the same space as her. He’s already proven that he can’t be trusted. The last thing we need is for a young omega to fall pregnant because an alpha doesn’t know restraint.”

“Don’t you two have family anywhere she can stay with… just until she’s a bit older? The mark might fade after they’ve been separated for a while.” Another pack elder spoke up to your parents.

“You’re seriously removing our daughter instead of the problem child? That’s fucking rich. So, what will happen when he marks another omega far too early, huh?” Your dad argued, clenching his jaw.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Suguru finally spoke up, looking your dad in the eye. A stare off between the two ensued.

“If this is how this pack operates, fine. I don’t want her in here if we protect alphas simply due to their gender instead of the innocent.” Your dad finally grit out before stomping away from the meeting.

It took three full grown alphas and Satoru to hold Suguru back while you were leaving. They wouldn’t even allow him to say goodbye to you, not even when you cried out his name. Not even when you begged, pleaded, asked why.

*** *** ***

Suguru was never quite the same after you and your family left. It had been years. He was just a boy when they took you. Now, he’s a twenty year old brooding alpha. He was aloof towards everyone, and he only confided in Satoru. His friend seemed to he the only one who understood that he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He didn’t know that his mark would cause a great deal of stress on your body, and had he known, he wouldn’t have done it.

The rest of the pack looked at him with reserved disdain. He was a stain upon their community. Your parents were well liked in the pack, and he was the reason they weren’t there anymore.

Words kept getting tossed around, and the pack members who weren’t there for the meeting were terribly misinformed. As the rumors spread, the story became more and more horrid. They painted him out to be a monster who held you down while you begged him not to and bit your neck forcibly.

Suguru never tried to correct the stories. He had nothing to prove to these people, the people that sent you away from him. They could all think of him as a monster, especially if it meant they stayed the hell away from him.

The only thing that kept Geto from expulsion from the pack was his innate ability to hunt. His beast from was truly that of an apex predator. He went on extravagant hunting trips often, and he kept the pack fed on wonderful meats.

He looked for you, his mate, on every hunting trip. He tried to remember the faint smell that started to emit from you when your body went into heat. He looked for every sign of you.

He knew the mate bond was still strong because he could feel everything through it. He hated when you felt sad. He knew you experienced some sort of nightmares without him there to care for you while you slept. Your happiness made him feel bittersweet. He wanted you to be happy, but the thought of you being happy without him made him sick.

Your heats were the worst. Suguru would sulk in his tent in a state of horny depression. He should be taking care of you, tending to your body and every desire you had. He should be helping you nest and kissing every spot on your body while cooing praises to you.

Instead, he’s laying in his own sweat and cum, too much of a sad sack of shit to make himself go get cleaned up. His tent stunk of potent pheromones. Your heats, even while being so far away, managed to throw him into a rut each time.

He could feel your dissatisfaction. You were pining for him to come help you. It was as if you were screaming down the mate bond for him to come save you. He missed you so damn bad that he started to hate the smell of strawberries. They smelled too much of you and reminded him of what he couldn’t have

He knew that the elders still kept in touch with your parents. They were high ranking leaders in the community after all. They knew where you were, and they still opted to keep you away from him.

You and him were suffering because of the fucking elders. They caused all of this. If they would’ve kept their fucking noses out of y’all’s business, none of this would be happening.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.” Suguru was practically crying for help. He was sat in his tent, holding his head in shame. His arms and legs were practically trembling.

The homicidal thoughts started when you left. It was sneaky at first, but they only got worse over time. His friend was the only one who knew about them. He knew how badly Geto craved to end their lives.

“Let me talk to them. They might listen to me.” Satoru spoke calmly as he gazed as his heartbroken best friend. The tent was heavy with the scent of alpha rut and distress. He could tell Suguru was really going through it right now.

*** *** ***

Suguru’s beast form was nothing short of a monster. He was the strongest, right next to Satoru.

His black fur was matted with blood as he pawed at the remains of the pack leader. Satoru had tried to talk to them, but they instantly shut him down. Then, to make matters worse, they sent him away on a hunting trip that same day.

Without Satoru there to keep the thoughts at bay, Suguru literally couldn’t help himself. The beast shifted before he could even do anything about it, and he was instantly blood hungry.

Tears coated his face as he shifted back to his human form. Killing the elders didn’t even help soothe him. He just wanted his fucking mate for christ’s sake. He sat on the floor in a scatter of papers from where the two beasts had fought valiantly.

Nothing could replicate the feeling of emptiness that filled him in that moment. His best friend wasn't there. His mate had been gone for oh so long. The pack leaders were now all deceased. When tomorrow morning rolled around, he'd likely be ostracized from his pack for the murders.

He laid his head back against the wall with his hands covering his face. He just wanted to see Satoru one last time before he was expelled and shunned. He wanted to apologize and thank Gojo for sticking by him for all these years.

At some point, the sleep deprivation got to Geto, causing for him to fall asleep naked in the massacre that was the pack leader's tent. Nightmares of slaughter plagued his dreams. Your face haunted him. He wondered what could've been had he known better than to mark you at an early age.

It felt so real, that he swore he heard your voice, though it was different in his dream. Your voice wasn't as squeaky as it use to be. It was smooth with age and experience yet still soft spoken. Maybe he was forgetting the way you sounded? The thought terrified him. His memory was all he had left of you.

You were... laughing? No, it couldn't be you. The voice sounded more like Gojo's-

The tent unzipping. A gasp. "Shit. Don't-" Gojo's voice.

Geto fluttered his eyes open to see Gojo standing in the small doorway of the makeshift shelter. He had... a woman's eyes covered. Her bottom lip was trembling.

"Suguru, what did you do?" Satoru asked like he did all those years back, and suddenly, Suguru felt like a small child who had no impulse control. He quickly scrambled up to his feet, using a random sheet of paper to cover his manhood.

"You were gone, and I just... I just really fucking..." His words trailed as his eyes looked over towards the woman. His heart started to pound in his chest. She looked... so much like you. It was as if he was being confronted with the ghost of his past once again.

"I went to go get her, Suguru." Satoru calmly explained with a hint of bite in his tone. "You really think I'd listen to what those old geezers said about not going to look for her? I grilled every last one of them until they slipped up and gave me enough information to find her."

Geto's eyes were as wide as saucers, and his pupils were dilated as he stared at the woman who was quietly trembling next to Satoru. His hand covered most of her face. "Is that...?"

"In the flesh." Satoru said as his hand slowly dropped from your eyes. Chills shot through Geto's body as he saw his mate's face again.

"Sugu..." Your little nickname for him. His breath went labored as he took in the sight of you for just one moment. His eyes involuntarily filled with tears before he dropped the sheet of paper and lunged for you.

His large muscular arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into a tight embrace against him. "I'm so sorry.." He whispered in your ear like a mantra. His hands roamed across your back as if he was double checking that this was real.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He whispered again in a pained voice. This was not how he wanted you to see him. He was at his lowest. “I’ve missed you so much. It feels like I’ve been underwater this entire time.”

You gently nuzzled your face into his chest, and you took a deep breath, savoring his scent. A content hum fled your lips. He smelled like home. “I’ve missed you too, Sugu.”

Suguru had grown so much since you last saw him. His body was now muscular and toned. His hair was even longer. It was tied up in a half knot while the rest of it messily splayed down his back. He wasn’t just a boy anymore — a man now.

“I hate to be the one to ruin this reunion, but there’s dead pack elders that we have to deal with.” Satoru spoke up as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Suguru reluctantly pulled back from you, not ready to let go of his missing mate. “I have no intention of staying here.” He said, eyes glancing over to the corpse on the ground. “This pack is a shit show.”

“So, what do we do?” Satoru asked, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. It was never a question in his mind. Satoru was going to go wherever Geto went.

“We start our own pack.” Geto casually threw out the idea with a small shrug. “It’s not impossible. If those incompetent creatures could do it, so can we.”

*** *** ***

You were happy and content to follow Geto and Gojo wherever the two went. It had been so long since you’ve seen the two males. You had almost forgotten how much mischief they could get up to.

Every day was filled with hiking, trying to find a new place to settle down. Every night was spent around a small fire, listening to the stories of the two while you were sent away.

When you and Geto would finally lay together next to the fire, he’d lazily play with your hair and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He’d tell you how beautiful you were and how there was never a day that went by when he didn’t think of you.

“Have I mentioned how terrible it was without you?” He murmured in your ear while his large hand was gently caressing your hip. He would carefully slip it underneath your shirt. The pad of his thumb caressing your soft skin.

“Only a million times.” You giggled in response, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

“Make it a million and one then. It was terrible.” He quietly laughed, not wanting to wake up Satoru who was snuggled on the ground on the other side of the fire.

“I missed you too.” You replied. Your hand carefully reached up and cupped his cheek. Your head was resting on his bicep while your legs were intertwined. “I tried calling out to you often through the mate bond.”

“I felt it each time.” He admitted as his hand slowly snaked higher up your torso. “I felt each time you went into heat and needed me.”

The fire calmly crackling masked the small whimper that fled from your lips. “I’m sorry. I know that probably drove you crazy.”

“You have no idea.” He muttered as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the mark on your neck. It hadn’t faded in the slightest. Your body knew you were his before you presented as well. “I dreamt of going out to find you.”

“Yeah? What would you do had you found me while I was in heat?”

“Mmm..” He hummed in a low tone as he gazed at you with a small smirk on his face. “I would sneak into whatever tent you were in like I use to when we were kids.” He spoke softly as his hand continued to trail up your side slowly.

“I’d find you lying there, already such a mess for me.” He went on, painting the picture vividly for you. Your eyes slipped shut as you imagined it for yourself. “Then, I’d pin you down to your nest, stopping you from taking care of yourself.” He went on, and he rolled on top of you, pinning your arms down with his free hand.

The sickly sweet scent of your arousal building lingered in the air, making Suguru’s heart pound in his chest. You smelled even more yummy than he imagined you to.

“What next?” You ask softly in a breathless voice.

“I’d kiss your lips until they were bruised.” He mumbled, and he leaned down to you before pressing his lips harshly against yours. He groaned softly as soon as he could feel you kissing back. He poured all of his love and hunger into his affections. He needed you like he needed air. You were his sole salvation - his reason for living

He carefully pushed your shirt up over your chest, and he skillfully reached behind you, unclasping your bra within a few seconds. You worked with him, pulling it away from your body before you wrapped your legs around his waist.

His hand came up and carefully cupped your breast. Hs kneaded on the soft pillowy flesh with another groan. He gently bit your swollen lip, asking for entry before proceeding to deepen the kiss. He swallowed up your small moans and gasps.

"Then," he softly pant out after parting from the kiss, "I'd mark up your neck again and again. I never want you to forget who you belong to." His head dipped into your neck, and his lips latched on to the soft skin.

He sucked, nibbled, and bit his way up and down your neck, making good on his promise to mark you up. Your hips raised up to meet his, needily searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs.

"My poor omega.." He mumbled softly against your skin before allowing his hand to trail down and to grope you at your core.

"Fuck- Sugu.." Your voice was a soft whine, forgetting all about Gojo who was asleep not even 10 feet away.

"Shhh, princess. Don't wake him." Suguru shushed you softly with a impish grin. His hands now worked to take your pants and panties off. "Want me to keep going?"

"Please..." Your face is illuminated by the warm glow of the fire before you two. A soft blush spread across your cheeks.

"Mmm, then you have to be quiet." Suguru teased before he allowed himself the pleasure of gazing at your glistening cunt. "Oh, so pretty." He mused before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your folds.

Suguru's mind was running haywire as he generously lapped at your wet heat. He had imagined this happening so many times while he fucked his own fist. It's all finally worked out. He's finally gotten to taste you, to hear you moan his name.

Your fingers entangled in his hair, holding onto him for support while he devoured you thoroughly.

"Mmn.. Sugu~ S'close... please." You quietly whimpered out, warning him of your impending release while he slurped at your cunt, drinking down your slick as if you were a fountain of youth.

"Can you hold it, baby?" His voice was muffled as he didn't dare part from you.

"N-no, I-" You softly whine, starting to rock your hips back and forth across his tongue. You were desperate for release, nearly riding his face to get there.

Suguru tugged back away from you. "That just won't do, darling." He mumbles as he unbuttons his pants and pulls his pants and boxers down just enough. "I need your first time finishing with me to be on my cock. Think you can do that for me?"

You're quick to nod in agreement with his wish, desperately needing the approval of your alpha. You had already caught a glimpse of his size when you and Satoru first arrived. Even when soft, Suguru still isn't small. Now that he's fully hard, it's almost intimidating.

"Mmm~ such a good girl." He quietly praised as he carefully guided his cock between your slick covered folds. He held your gaze as he rubbed his tip up and down, creating a wet "schlick" noise with each movement. His poor neglected cock leaked sticky pre-cum along your core, making everything so messy.

"Bite on my hand." He instructed as he placed his hand over your mouth. "Don't want you makin' too much noise." With a small huff, you bite down onto his hand.

Humping you a few more times, Geto finally decided to push himself into you. Your body immediately went rigid as you tried to cope with the new pressure between your legs. It felt as if he was trying to split you in two, completely impaling you with his thick cock.

"Ohh~ fuuu... That's it.." Geto's voice was deeper and extremely breathy. His eyes were half-lidded as he continued to watch your facial reactions. The small tears crowding the corners of your eyes made him throb. "You're so fucking tight."

"it's not gonna fit-" You quietly whined behind the palm of his hand. Meanwhile, your fingernails were embedded into his back, decorating him with scratch marks.

"It's gonna fit, baby." He quietly reassured you as he pulled back a bit and sunk back in. Your slick coated his length, making it easier for him to push in more. "Gotta let me stretch you."

"Ngh~ ah.." Your voice cracked as your leaned your head back against the ground. Suguru's hips rolled, just barely fucking into your tight cunt. He'd add another inch with each thrust, allowing you time to gradually get use to him.

The air was filled with shushed panting and breathy whines. The sound of your sopping cunt squeezing around him was like a holy song to him. You were the only slice of heaven Geto would ever see.

He had been so caring; you hadn't even realized he was all the way in until you felt a thump towards your stomach. "Ohmygod-" The gasp fell from your mouth before you could even think to stop it. "Fuuuck... feel you right here.." You meekly murmured as you pointed towards your tummy.

"Yeah baby? Feel me all the way in there?" He humors your intoxicated speech as he's lovingly thrusting into you. "You feel so fucking good." He praised as he peppered your face in sweet kisses.

Your spongy walls cling to his dick with each soft thwack of his balls clapping against the flesh of your ass. You're completely soaked around him, allowing him to glide in and out with ease.

His fat tip was damp with sweltering pre-cum gathering at his slit. With each thrust, his tip was kissing at your womb, making you feel all dumb in the head. He occupied his mouth with kissing and sucking more love bites into your shoulders. "So good, baby... ah~ so fuckin' good." He continued to mumble praises in a pussy drunk tone.

Both of your bodies were glistening in a mix of sweat and slick. The fire raged beside you two keeping you very warm while he pumped in and out. "Can't get enough. Need more.. ngh~ M-missed you so much." He growled lowly in your ear as his tender thrusts grew sloppier - fueled by an intense need.

"Suguu~ fuck me." That little needy whine was all he needed to start forcefully pounding into you. Noise level be damned; he needed his omega on a biblical level that Satoru would never be able to understand.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your poor cunt was practically sobbing for him - making a complete mess between your thighs as his cock rudely drilled into you. Your back arched up off of the ground, and you could feel your eyes rolling back. It felt like you were ascending to a higher being.

Suguru caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. Strings of saliva connected your mouths like strings of fate as you muffled each others moans. "Need to knot you - f-fuck, please, let me knot you."

Your legs wrap completely around Suguru's waist. "Knot me, Sugu.. hngh~ I'm s'close.."

Suguru's legs began to shake as he could feel his balls growing heavy. Instincts completely drove him to keep fucking himself into your drooling cunt. His eyes stayed on you as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge.

"Sh-shit!" You hissed as your gummy walls suddenly tightened around him. The squelching noises slowed as he felt his knot starting to swell. His hands gripped onto your hips as he had to force his way deep inside your wet heat. The knot locking you two in place before he completely spilled inside you.

"Fuuucking hell..." Suguru breathed out as he stayed planted on top of you. His breath was labored as his hand brushed a few stray hairs from your face. "No one will ever take you away from me again. You're mine."

Bonus Scene!

Upon waking up the next morning on Suguru's bare chest, you sighed contently. Your body ached in the best way. Though, you knew it would only make this trek even harder.

You slowly sat up with a quiet groan. Your face was slightly sticky from sweat and drool. He had really wore you out last night.

"Morning, sleepy head." Suguru mumbled as his eyes rested upon your tired face.

"Mmm.. morning." You quietly hummed as your hands instinctively smoothed out your hair, trying to make yourself look presentable.

"Good morning, Satoru." The white-haired alpha spoke to himself in a grumpy, sarcastic tone as he stared at the two of you.

"It's too early for your attitude, Satoru." Suguru quietly laughed as he looked at his friend.

"You can deal with my attitude given what I had to deal with last night." He huffed as his lips curled into a slight pout.

"You didn't-"

"Oh, I did." He confirmed. "Oooohhh, please knot me, Sugu. Oh so big and strong!" He mocked your voice in a high pitched tone.

"Oh god, please stop." You whine as you covered your ears. A nervous laugh involuntarily bubbled up from your throat.

"Mmm, fuck. Gonna knot this tight cun-"

"That's enough, Satoru." Suguru playfully warned as he shook his head with a calm smile. It didn't bother him one bit that he heard the two of you last night because he knew that Satoru was going to hear you two again tonight as well.

Read the rest of my monstertober here !

---

—> gojo satoru is just so fascinated by everything you do, and when you do makeup? oh, he’s just so entranced. and now he’s decided, he wants you to do his makeup!

warnings —> fluff fluff fluff, gojo gets overwhelmed by how much he loves you, a kiss but nothing descriptive! he just loves you and youre also smitten with him 🙂‍↕️

ps —> this was inspired by those tiktoks where someone is doing their makeup and their pet just stares at them with wonder the whole time…ouuu gojo is a big dog T_T

from the corner of your eyes, you could glimpse, gojo, your husband, sitting on the edge of the bed, a small glimmer of admiration in his eyes—thankfully uncovered—as he watched you do your makeup. It was a bit unnerving, if you had to be frank.

the way his eyes were watching your every move so intently, pursing his lips as if he was going through the thought process of gathering a solution for the most complicated issue in the world.

your brows furrowed, the lipliner held delicately in between your fingers as you traced over your lips, stopping for a second in order to look at him through the vanity mirror, “what’s with that look?” your tone left your lips amused, a bit of curiosity wrapped in it.

he was watching you like a puppy waiting for his owner, while still managing to look so fascinated as if you were performing some sort of parkour stunt or some sort of magic trick—almost like you were pulling a bunny out of your hat right infront of his eyes.

but no. you were merely only doing your makeup.

“you…” be started, the focused look not quite leaving his features as he squinted his eyes a bit, “now are you so precise? does it not tickle when you draw over your eyes like that? or when you draw on your lips?” he blinked, question after question fired rapidly—expressing his eagerness to get behind this apparently ground breaking mystery.

you stilled, liner in your hand pausing with your lack of movement, before a small giggle erupted from your lined lips, “tickle? what are you, five? it doesn’t tickle, no.” you hummed under your breath, focusing back on your lips as you lined over them.

you couldn’t help yourself, “why? want to try?” you teased, tone joking and playful, not really intending for any seriousness to be misinterpreted behind it.

“yes.” he blurted out, tone serious and devoid of any playfulness.

a sigh left your lips.

“gojo satoru, sit still so I can—!” your annoyed groans rang through the room, eyes narrowed in concentration—and a bit of annoyance, frankly—as you attempted to trace the tip of the eyeliner onto your husband’s eyelids, hand gripping the pen so tightly you were afraid it would break.

as you readjusted yourself on his lap, a small pout rested on his features, his glossy lips curving downwards as tightened his grip on you, hands sitting on your hips lovingly, “i’m ticklish!” he whined, scrunching his eyes shut, making it near impossible for you to seamlessly draw on a neat wing like the one you currently have on your eyes.

ugh, this child.

“i’ve never met someone who’s ticklish from an eyeliner.” you huffed under your breath, hand gripping his broad shoulder tightly as your other hand worked to draw the wing, coming all jagged and not straight, “‘toru!”

you seriously hated when your eyeliner wasn’t perfect, and surprise surprise …you hated it even more when your husband’s eyeliner wasn’t perfect.

his hands squeezed your hips, thumbs finding purchase in gently smoothing over the skin under your—his—shirt, finding a strange domesticity in the moment. his wife, all pretty and dolled up in your own makeup, giving him the experience of a lifetime by applying makeup on him.

and the best part of it all? you’re seated right on his lap, where he can place his hands over your waist without needing an excuse.

to help you stabilize, of course. or at least—that was the excuse he used, hehe!

“hey hey! be gentle with me.” a small grimace rested on his features as he felt your thumb press on the corner of his eye and swiping, probably erasing a smudge or a mistake, “i want to be all pretty like you when you’re done!”

your hand stilled, fingers almost loosening their tight grip on the eyeliner pencil as soon as his words reached your ears, carried by the serene and cozy atmosphere in the room. despite all the frustration you felt, you couldn’t help but feel fondness, fondness at how enamored he seemed by you, how genuine his love was—how the words flowed so easily from his lips.

as if he didn’t even have to think about it.

your eyes softened, a cozy warmth filling up every crevice of your body, filling you up to the brim and almost suffocating you, “you’re already prettier than me even without all this.” You huffed under your breath, tone genuine despite your earlier annoyance.

despite the way you huffed your words out, there was still the unmistakable fondness that any one could distinct.

at your words, he fluttered his eyes open, choosing to dismiss the little protest flying from your lips—all in favor of being able to look at you, to show you the love and admiration clouding his gaze, he may as well be rendered a blind man whenever he’s in your presence. your heavenly presence.

it’s instinctive, the words that flow from his lips, it’s all so effortless—he doesn’t even need to think about it.

the words bang on the base of his throat, begging to be let out, to leave his lips and travel all the way to the crevices of your heart, to bury itself in between your ribs and any place it could reach. this was merely how he was around you.

“so sappy, eh?” his tone lowered, a mere whisper traveling in the air around them, his hands tightening their hold on you, tugging you closer to him, “my baby thinks I’m pretty?” a coo left his lips, gazing up at you with the softest eyes a man could ever muster. you above him—he thinks he would’ve went on his knees to worship if you if he wasn’t sitting on the bed.

you’re just so pretty.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, the hand that was on his shoulder now taking it’s rightful place on the side of his face, barely cupping his cheek, thumb smoothing over his sculpted features, in rhythm to his own thumb that was stroking your hip bone. “very.”

Ah, shit.

he had to keep himself from completely crumbling right then and there, from burying his face in his hands and melting, “you—“ the most he could do right now was clear his throat, a distinct red color staining the back of his neck and his ears, making its way to his cheeks. “you can’t just say that…” he grumbled under his breath.

he secretly hoped you would say more; to fluster him until he combusts, until you’re left with a man who cannot comprehend anything beyond the warmth of your affection and sweet compliments.

“can’t handle a small compliment, toru?” you cooed, enjoying the way the red on his cheeks intensified. a small chuckle left your lips, gently placing down the liner in your hand—the one you made sure to be extra careful with due to how you always complained about how expensive it is—

instead, you picked up a tube of lipstick, a pretty shade that you always smeared on your own lips. “it’s time for lipstick, since you’re allergic to eyeliner, apparently.”

it’s not like he needs it anyways. he’s still inexplicably pretty without anything, you mused in your head.

his eyes immediately drifted to the tube in your hand, his flustered state forgotten. his gaze drifted back to your lips, a small frown on his glossy lips as he contemplated for a few seconds, “is that the same one that’s one your lips?” he questioned, pushing you down firmly onto his lap as he tried to distract himself from how plump and inviting your lips looked.

you furrowed your eyebrows, head lolling slightly to the side in confusion, “yeah? why?”

his eyes seemed to light up for a second, glimmering with unconcealed excitement, like a big puppy being presented with treats. a smile perked up the corners of his lips, laced with eagerness and…mischievous intent. you knew your satoru, you could tell when he was up to something.

“wait— what are you—!”

your words, spoken in a hurry of what was to come, were soon muffled as you felt large hands travel from your hips all the way to the soft skin of your cheeks, delicately cupping the fat in his palms. you were rendered speechless, in shock of the sudden action coming from him.

however, you couldn’t say you despised the sudden movement, not when it was followed by a soft sensation placed upon your lips.

a soft exhale left his lips, all but making you shiver as the tube of lipstick fell from your hands, immersed into the sensation you could never tire of. his lips moved in tandem with yours, sweet and delicate, passionate—taking his time with you, his intentions clear; the need to show you just how much his affection for you stretched, how he needed you to feel how much he loved you.

his lips pressed upon yours, soft and fulfilling in its own way, the proclamations of undying love and affection flowing from his lips to yours—no words exchanged.

you could only blink as he parted from the kiss, a smile—filled with undeniable smugness and fondness—forming on his lips, that were now stained the same color as yours, “i’m helping you save product.” he hummed, clearly proud of tje strategy he had performed, “the color looked better on your lips than in the tube. i wanted mine to look like that too!”

ah…this…lovable idiot.

your eyes drifted to his quirked lips, the color from your lips had transferred to his own, messily smudging on his glossy lips, it was messy—unlike the way you would’ve applied it from the tube, all clean and smooth—but…you think you prefer it that way.

“it’s so messy, satoru.” you could only groan, trying to mask the obvious embarrassment and giddiness you felt.

he perked up at that, eyes rounding in excitement as his hands landed on your waist, eagerly tugging you closer, “let’s fix it then!”

before you could utter another word, his lips were placed upon yours once more.

---

i won't cry for you

gojo x wife!reader

look at you, wiping your own tears with the same hands that long to be held.

You sighed loudly. Your lips pulled in a tight line as you stared up at the ceiling. Its been seven months. Seven whole months to being married to the one and only Gojo Satoru, and he hasn’t even looked at you.

No… that’s not true.

When you both are in the same room, he takes notice of your presence. You aren’t invisible. You know that much, but…it’s like when he looks at you, talks to you, or is forced to acknowledge you…it’s like he doesn’t see you at all. As if his six eyes are working overtime just not to recognize you.

And it hurts.

It hurts more than you describe.

To not be loved or wanted.

It hurts.

You were sure that if you were to disappear suddenly, then no one would bother to look for you. No one would care. No one would remember. Your presence was simply there. You disappearing wouldn’t change a thing.

Wait, that wasn’t true either.

If you disappeared. Maybe left your wedding ring and a stack of divorce papers, you were sure it would bring a smile to Gojo’s face.

Sighing to yourself, you decided to finally get up for the day. Gojo was most likely at Jujutsu Tech or on a mission.

Ever since that night of your marriage and that one kiss you both shared, you thought that maybe he wasn’t as disappointed as you previously thought, but his distance to you proved otherwise.

You mindlessly walked to the kitchen, ever since you got married to him there have been a few maids here and there bustling around the Gojo estate, but Gojo Satoru liked his privacy, so the maids always seem to disappear when he isn’t around. Not that you mind. Even if your suspicions of him fooling around with the maids is true, well, what would you have expected anyway? It wasn’t like he loved you. That much was for sure.

You opened the fridge and browsed the selection before sighing once again and closing it. Lately you haven’t been hungry. The first months of stress eating seemingly gone from your system as now food just doesn’t sound good anymore.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Pulling it out, you saw a text from Yaga.

‘Emergency mission, take care of the special grade, won’t you?’

You sent a quick reply saying you will take care of it before going back to your room to get changed.

“If I’m lucky, then I’ll die on this mission…”

You didn’t die. In fact, the cursed spirit died too easily, even for a special grade. You pulled out your phone, your finger hovering over the call button on Ijichi’s name. If you call him than that would mean reporting the mission and then going back to the Gojo estate. And Gojo himself may be at the school giving his own reports or is already at home…

You went to your message’s and to Yaga’s name.

‘Mission complete, going into town to relax. Don’t bother sending Ijichi for me. See you at work tomorrow.’

You sent the message a moment later and clicked your phone off, and when you did, your stomach let out a growl.

You were finally hungry.

You smiled at that, maybe being stuck in that estate was making you lose your appetite?

“I wonder what would be good to eat…?”

You pondered the thought for a moment before settling on sushi. It’s been a while and you deserve the expensive meal. At least that’s what you thought. Besides, you have your own money, and even though you aren’t as rich as your husband, you can afford it.

So you set off for the best sushi place you could find, though… when you got there, you were saddened at the fact that Gojo and his students seemed to have the same idea.

Following the server, you maneuvered to a single seat, you stared out of the corner of your eye at Gojo, Megumi, Kugisaki, and Itadori. They were laughing and poking fun at each other. Megumi kept that cool facade while Kugisaki made a disgusted face at what Itadori was saying, and Gojo was… smiling. Something he never did with you.

Good for him.

“What would you like ma’am?”

You turned your attention and smiled at the waiter. He seemed nice as he spoke to you, had a polite smile, and was quite good-looking too. If you were single you would be ever so daring to ask him out, but…

You gave him your order and he nodded while jotting it down while also leaving to fetch your drink.

“Finally got out of bed today?”

You felt your whole body freeze over when you felt Gojo slide into the chair next to you.

Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, your smile was quick to dissipate as you glanced over at your husband. He was smiling at you, something he only ever did in public, but… the usual tense smile he gave you felt oddly different than usual.

“If Yaga didn’t call me out on a mission, then I would still be at your estate,” you said simply.

“Our estate,” he amended, “it’s yours too.”

“…right…”

“Ma’am, your drink,” your waiter said politely as he set your cold beverage in front of you, “and, pardon my rudeness, but is this man bothering you?”

The waiter gave Gojo a side glance, the obvious dislike to your husband as clear as day. How cute, the waiter actually cares.

But whatever.

You waved your hand dismissively, “He’s my husband, he bothers me all the time.”

Gojo guffawed at your reply as the waiter seemed momentarily surprised at the word husband but nodded nonetheless and told you that your order would be out soon before taking his leave.

“Do I really bother you that much?!”

You looked at Gojo, his expression just didn’t sit right with you. He never acted so hyper or like a dork with you before. Not once. You got to see him act in such a way with everyone else but yourself.

“To be honest… you don’t bother me enough,” you said as you relaxed in your seat finally, “now, is there a reason why you came over here? Usually, you ignore my very existence out in public, so you kind of took me off guard.”

Gojo regarded you for a moment, “guess I just wanted to talk to you.”

“What for?”

“Heard you got assigned to an emergency mission. I guess I was preparing myself to come save you.”

“You do realize that I can take care of special grades just fine, right?”

Gojo shrugged, “you seem kind of weak to me.”

“Everyone seems weak to you. Besides, if I really did need help would you actually come save me?”

“Of course.”

Bullshit.

“Right, well, if that ever happens, then please don’t.”

“Huh? Why?”

The waiter came out with your food finally. He asked you if you needed anything else, but you declined. The waiter left you both alone once again.

“Why-“

“Just let me die.”

Despite his eyes being covered, you could tell he was frowning.

“You wouldn’t cry for me, so don’t bother.”

---

loml — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

Satoru, leaning back with a gentle sigh, broke the silence. "I think... I’ve fallen in love with them." he confessed, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. He looked at Suguru. “Gen–senpai.” Suguru turned his head slightly, his dark purple eyes finding Satoru’s, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. He didn’t speak right away, but then, slowly, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. He smiled against his shoulder. “Yeah… I have too.”

WARNING/S: pre-hidden inventory arc, post hidden inventory arc, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 12.5k words.

NOTE: i ended up thinking about this for a while. i think i wanted something that's satosugu focused that is related to the main story of us and them. and i think it was way more perfect like this. i think that's just how it is with stories in between us and them coded, you know??? anyway, i hope you enjoy it anyway. i just wanted to get it off my mind!!!! i love you all, see you in the next story <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU WERE READY. The air around you crackled with cursed energy, thick and oppressive as it swirled between the high-rise buildings of Tokyo. The cursed spirit looming before you was grotesque, a monstrous thing with far too many eyes and limbs jutting out at unnatural angles. Its twisted form made your skin crawl, its movements erratic as it lashed out, causing havoc in the streets.

You shifted your stance, preparing for the next strike, your eyes scanning the chaos around you. Despite the carnage, your focus wasn’t just on the spirit. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted someone standing a few feet away.

He looked… off. His usually neat, smooth hair was fraying at the ends, loose strands sticking out from the messy bun he usually wore. His dark blue Jujutsu uniform was tattered and streaked with dirt, his face marked with fatigue. There was a haunted, weary look in his eyes.

He wasn’t his usual self, that much was clear. The "I've been through some stuff" energy radiated from him like a second skin. You could see the wear of battle etched into his features, the faint tremor in his hands as he stood, catching his breath. This wasn’t someone you remembered.

Ah, he was a first year student.

"Alright, first year." you called out, adjusting your grip on your yari spear. "Looks like I’ll finish this off."

You lunged forward, aiming for the cursed spirit’s core, when—

"Wait! Stop! " Suguru suddenly yelled, nearly tripping over himself to get in front of you, arms flailing.

You skidded to a stop just before the spear tip met cursed flesh. Blinking in confusion, you watched as the first year frantically gestured for you to back off. "I have to consume it."

"...Consume it?"

"Yeah." He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's kinda my thing."

You stared at him. This guy was the new first-year? Your kouhai? "Alright... I guess that’s something." You lowered your spear reluctantly, watching the younger boy as he took a deep breath, about to do his curse-consumption thing.

Before he could make a move, though, a familiar voice echoed from behind. "Uncool, Suguru. So uncool."

You didn’t even need to turn to know who it was. Gojo Satoru, in all his flashy glory, strolled into view. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his sunglasses sitting lazily on his face, and a smirk that screamed I-know-everything-better-than-you plastered across his features. Ah, this one you remembered too well. 

The younger boy, Suguru,  groaned, his expression dropping faster than the cursed spirit could regenerate its limbs. "Satoru, not now."

"Oh no, now's the perfect time!" Gojo said, waving dramatically. "Imagine it! Big, heroic finish, and then boom! You, standing there... eating the curse? So uncool, dude. Eat it later!"

Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not like I have a choice. It’s literally my technique."

"Yeah, but couldn’t you, like, exorcise it or something first? Make it cooler?" Gojo shrugged, shooting you a thumbs-up like you were both in on some inside joke. "You get what I mean, right?"

You glanced at Suguru, then at Gojo, back at Suguru—who, despite his calm demeanor, looked like he wanted to punch Gojo in his perfect teeth. "Uh, sure." you offered, trying not to laugh. "You could at least add some flair to it?"

"See?" Gojo said triumphantly. "The senpai agrees with me!"

Suguru groaned louder this time, side-eyeing you with an "I-can't-believe-this" look. "You’re not helping."

"Just saying!" Gojo continued, "if I were you, I'd finish it with style. Maybe spin around, give a little dramatic speech, then eat the curse."

Suguru ignored him, clearly over the theatrics, and raised his hand, muttering something under his breath. The cursed spirit let out one final, unsettling screech before being sucked into his palm in an anticlimactic puff.

"See?" Gojo chimed in again, arms spread wide. "Boring."

"Shut. Up." Suguru shot back, though his face was starting to crack into a small smile despite himself.

You couldn't help it anymore—you burst out snickered. "You two are something else."

Gojo grinned, basking in the chaos he’d created, while Suguru shook his head, walking off with a quiet sigh, muttering about how he "should’ve stayed home today."

"Hey, wait up!" Gojo yelled after him. "Let’s grab ramen! You can cry into your bowl about how uncool you are!"

You glanced at your yari, wondering why you ever thought cursed spirits were the hardest thing to deal with today.

THIS WASN’T THE USUAL WAY YOU WOULD BE HERE. You usually ate alone. So it was quite a surprise from the ramen house that you asked for a table of four. The familiar scent of ramen wafted through the small shop, warm and inviting as you took your usual seat near the window. 

It had been a long day, but the evening promised something interesting—meeting the new first-year students of Tokyo Jujutsu High. Special-grade sorcerers, at that. You had already been briefed that they were joining the ranks alongside you and Yuki Tsukumo, which was a rarity in itself. It was only fitting to see who these up-and-coming powerhouses were. You called Yuki about it and she raved about wanting to see you more than the younger ones. But you supposed it's just because she missed you. 

You heard them before you saw them.

"I’m telling you, you don’t need to use that technique so recklessly!" came a voice that could only belong to someone with zero filter—Gojo Satoru, if you remembered correctly.

"And I’m telling you, you don’t need to be so reckless in general." another voice retorted—Geto Suguru, calm but undeniably exasperated.

The door swung open, and in they came. Gojo Satoru, all energy and loud confidence, sauntered in first with that infamous swagger, followed closely by Geto Suguru, who looked as though he'd spent the entire walk here contemplating how to silence Gojo for good. Behind them was Ieiri Shoko, who was a bit quiet and composed, giving them both the same look you often gave people who were trying too hard. They had gone back to their accommodation and changed clothes first. 

You couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Watching Gojo and Geto bicker reminded you so much of Namie and Kaiko. The way they would argue over the smallest details, turning even a simple walk into a battlefield of egos, was something you had long learned to endure. And here they were, in front of you, a new generation—but the dynamic was eerily familiar.

Shoko, on the other hand, seemed calm in the storm, much like yourself. She had that air of detachment, a stillness that balanced out the chaos around her. For a brief moment, you wondered if these three would get along with Namie and Kaiko. Gojo and Geto certainly matched their energy, and Shoko would probably enjoy some quiet conversation amidst the madness. The thought brought a small smile to your face.

“Oi, senpai!” Gojo’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He had already claimed the seat next to you, throwing an arm over the back of his chair like he owned the place. “We’re not late, are we? You didn’t order without us, right?”

Geto frowned. “Satoru, that’s rude! You shouldn’t be so informal with Zenin–senpai!”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry. You also don’t have to call me Zenin–senpai.”

“Then….”

“Just use Gen–senpai. Or whatever. I don’t really particularly care about hierarchy.”

Gojo grinned. “Then can I call you Gen, then?”

“Feel free.” You tell him, with a small smile.

“Aha! Then I will!”

“You also aren’t late, don’t worry.” you replied, holding back a chuckle. “And I was just thinking how the three of you remind me of some old friends.”

“Oh? I’m flattered.” Gojo leaned back, grinning smugly. “Must’ve been quite the group if they were anything like me.”

Geto rolled his eyes as he took the seat across from you. “I’m guessing they were probably nothing like you, Satoru.”

“See?” You chuckled, glancing between the two of them. Suguru noticed a small sliver of sadness in your eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean. You remind me of them too well.”

Gojo’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh, they sound like fun. Were they good-looking? Maybe I’ve got some competition.”

“Yeah.” you deadpanned for a bit. “Well….except they didn’t spend their entire day thinking about how cool they were.”

Suguru snorted at that, and even Shoko cracked a tiny smile as she took her seat.

“So, how’s it feel being special-grade sorcerers?” you asked, steering the conversation back on track, looking at Suguru and Satoru. 

“Amazing!” Gojo replied without hesitation, flipping his sunglasses up to rest on his head. “But that’s just my natural state.”

Geto shot him a sideways glance. “Humility was never an option, was it?”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. 'I-can-consume-anything.’” Gojo grinned, waggling his fingers in mock imitation of Geto’s technique.

Shoko sighed, taking a slow sip of water. “It’s like babysitting.”

You smiled again, a strange warmth settling in your chest. These three were so young, and yet there was already something special about them—a camaraderie that, despite the constant bickering, spoke of deep bonds being forged. You could see them going far, together, just as you and your friends once had.

For a brief moment, the thought of Namie and Kaiko sitting around this very table, throwing playful jabs at each other, floated through your mind. You could almost hear their laughter mixing with the voices of Gojo, Geto, and Shoko. It was a fleeting but comforting image.

“They’d like you, I think.” you said softly, more to yourself than to anyone else.

“Huh? Who would?” Gojo asked, eyebrows raised.

“Old friends, the ones I was talking about.” you replied with a shrug, letting the nostalgia slip away. “You remind me of them. And I think you three would get along well.”

Suguru tilted his head slightly, catching the faint note of wistfulness in your voice, but didn’t press further. Gojo, of course, was already distracted by the arrival of his ramen, declaring it to be “the best in Tokyo, hands down!”

As the bowls of ramen arrived and the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. You had a feeling that these three would bring a whirlwind of change—just like the generation before them. And as chaotic as they seemed now, you knew they had something special, something that would take them far.

It was going to be an interesting journey ahead.

The steaming bowls of ramen were placed in front of each of you, and for a brief moment, the chatter paused as everyone seemed to savor the smell. You watched as Gojo Satoru practically dove into his bowl, using his chopsticks with a level of enthusiasm that was almost theatrical. 

Geto Suguru, on the other hand, ate calmly, every movement deliberate, as though he were analyzing the flavors. Ieiri Shoko picked at hers lazily, more interested in observing the antics of her companions than actually eating. You couldn’t eat that much, you weren’t that hungry.

"Best in Tokyo, hands down!" Gojo proclaimed between slurps, noodles half-hanging from his mouth. "You really know your spots, Gen."

“Satoru, call them senpai, Gen–senpai.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Huh, what do you mean, nuh–uh?”

You smirked, taking a more modest sip of your broth. "I’ve been around. Knew you’d appreciate this place, though."

Geto raised an eyebrow, still focused on his bowl. "Appreciate it? I’m surprised he hasn’t asked to marry the chef yet."

Gojo leaned back, wiping his mouth with a dramatic flourish. "Who says I haven’t? Ramen this good deserves a lifelong commitment."

Shoko let out a quiet snort, her lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. "Pretty sure you wouldn’t last a week in a marriage. Too many noodle-related distractions."

"Hey, I’m capable of multi-tasking, Shoko." Gojo shot back, wagging his chopsticks in Shoko’s direction. "I could juggle ramen and romance. Watch me."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Watching the way they interacted, their personalities bouncing off each other like well-practiced banter, it was clear that, despite the joking and teasing, there was a connection here. Something deeper than the surface-level bickering. The kind of bond that would only strengthen over time.

Geto finished his bowl and set his chopsticks down with a soft sigh. "You’re ridiculous, Satoru."

"Ridiculously awesome, you mean." Gojo corrected, leaning back with a satisfied grin, clearly proud of himself.

"You know….." you started, leaning back in your chair as well. "It's good to see this. You three, I mean."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, now curious. "Good to see us?"

"Yeah." You nodded, glancing between the three of them. "Special-grade sorcerers, the strongest of your generation, yet here you are, acting like normal students. It’s nice to see the kids in you still be kids. It pleases me.”

Geto smiled, a little softer now. "We’re not always this... chaotic. Just when Satoru’s around."

Gojo held up a hand in mock protest. "I’m not the chaotic one! You guys are just too boring to keep up."

"Right, right…." Shoko muttered, taking another sip of her water. "Because you’re the epitome of normalcy."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Trust me, I’ve seen worse. But seeing you three like this reminds me of the old days. Back when my friends and I thought we were invincible too."

There was a brief pause, a fleeting moment of introspection that settled over the table. Gojo tilted his head, his usual playful expression giving way to something a bit more thoughtful. "Were you?"

"In a way, yeah," you admitted. "Or at least, we thought we were. Until….." You stopped.

Suguru’s gaze sharpened slightly, as if he understood where the conversation was heading. "You lost someone, didn’t you?"

You nodded, feeling the weight of those memories resurface. "We all did, eventually. It’s part of this life."

Gojo looked unusually quiet now, his chopsticks twirling between his fingers. "But you kept going, huh?"

"Had to. Have to." you replied with a faint smile. "Just like you will."

The heaviness lingered for a second longer before Gojo, in typical fashion, broke the silence. "Well, we’re not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m too good-looking to die young, you know?"

Suguru rolled his eyes, and Shoko’s deadpan expression returned. "That’s one way to look at it."

"Hey, I’m just keeping things light, Suguru!" Gojo grinned, his usual cockiness back in full force. "Besides, I’ve got big plans. No way am I letting a cursed spirit mess up this face."

You laughed, but the truth of the matter was still clear. These three—Gojo, Geto, and Ieiri—were in for a long road ahead. And even though they didn’t fully grasp it yet, they would one day understand the weight of their roles as sorcerers. They would carry their own losses, just as you and Yuki had. But for now, it was good to see them like this, carefree, in the moment, enjoying a simple bowl of ramen without the looming threat of the world crashing down on them.

As the meal wound down, the conversation drifted back into lighter territory. Gojo made exaggerated claims about his future as the “greatest sorcerer ever.” Suguru countered with dry remarks, and Shoko threw in the occasional sarcastic comment that kept them both in check.

You paid the bill and stood up, stretching your arms as you prepared to leave. "Well, I’ll see you all soon." you said, nodding toward the three of them. "Try not to kill each other before then."

"No promises, Gen!" Gojo grinned, already halfway out the door, Suguru groaning in tow.

Shoko offered you a small wave as she followed them out, her calm demeanor as steady as ever.

Watching them go, you couldn't help but smile again. They were a lot like you and your old friends once were—full of potential, full of life. You only hoped they’d find a way to hold onto that as long as they could.

And for a brief moment, you found yourself thinking, Yeah, they would’ve gotten along just fine.

HE WONDERS WHO YOU TRULY WERE. Suguru Geto had heard whispers about you long before he ever saw your face. The rumors circled like an ever-present breeze, spoken in quiet tones by those who thought no one was listening.

His father, who worked as a window for your mother’s family, often mentioned you in passing—a name that carried weight, history, and an air of mystery. 

The whispers painted a picture of someone who was more than just another sorcerer. You were part of an ancient clan, one of those distant, elusive families that even the higher-ups at Jujutsu High regarded with a level of reverence. And yet, despite the importance of your lineage, there was something different about you.

When Gojo Satoru spoke of you, it was always with a casual fondness, even if he had just met you the other day. It didn’t take Suguru long to piece together why. You and Satoru were very distant relatives, after all.

And your life was always going to be a part of that tangled web of sorcerer families that had been interwoven for centuries. But Satoru’s interest in you wasn’t just out of obligation, Suguru knew that much was obvious. 

There was something else there. Something about the way his normally cocky tone softened whenever your name came up, even if only slightly. He was interested in you, Suguru knows. Satoru thinks it's because you were just that good of a sorcerer.

 And your father being Zenin Naoki, it was a big deal. If they saw more of your technique, then Satoru would end up raving about it. But you weren’t around as much to show it. And with how good you were with cursed tools, Suguru doubted you ever needed to use your cursed technique.

Suguru had been curious, of course. How could he not be? Special-grade sorcerers weren’t exactly common, and from the rumors he had heard, you were even more active in the field than Yuki Tsukumo herself. That alone was enough to make anyone stand out. But it wasn’t just your power—it was the sheer volume of reports that came in after every mission you completed. 

From the bustling streets of Tokyo to the more traditional grounds of Kyoto Jujutsu High, your name seemed to pop up everywhere. And not in small ways, either. The curses you dealt with were of a caliber that even seasoned sorcerers hesitated to face. Yet you faced them head-on, time and time again.

Suguru leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling of his dorm room as he thought about it. He had never met someone so relentlessly active in the field. It was like you didn’t know how to slow down. Missions from one end of the country to the other, reports coming in almost daily… Did you even sleep? 

He frowned, the thought lingering in his mind. Even Tsukumo Yuki, at least what people whispered about her, as restless as she was, had her quiet moments of reflection, her times of retreat from the world. But you?

He hadn't even met you properly yet, but it was starting to feel like you were some kind of living legend, the sort of person who operated on a different plane of existence entirely.

“You think too much, Suguru!” came Satoru’s voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. Gojo was lounging on the bed across the room, balancing a ball of cursed energy on the tip of his finger, a bored expression on his face.

“Am I?” Suguru shot back, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yeah, you’re always brooding.” Satoru replied, letting the ball of cursed energy dissipate. “You’ve been thinking about them, haven’t you?”

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "Them?"

Satoru grinned, almost like he was amused by the very thought. “You know, them. The one everyone keeps talking about. My oh-so-talented distant distant distant distant distant distant relative.”

Suguru crossed his arms, his curiosity now fully piqued. “I’ve heard the stories, sure. But it’s hard to believe someone is that active without collapsing from exhaustion at some point.”

Satoru laughed, loud and carefree. “Yeah, I’ve thought that too! But I saw them in action the other day. It’s wild. They’ve got this… I don’t know, this energy. Like they’re always moving, always thinking five steps ahead. It’s kinda scary, honestly.”

Suguru frowned, thinking back to the rumors. “I’ve seen the mission reports. They’re everywhere—Tokyo, Kyoto, even some out in the countryside. You’d think they’d take a break at some point.”

“Maybe they’re just a robot, you know?” Satoru said, half-joking. “A cursed spirit-fighting machine, programmed to never sleep.”

“Doubtful.” Suguru muttered, though the mental image was amusing. “But it’s strange. There’s something more to it. They’re not likeTsukumo–senpai, you know? Tsukumo–senpai’s off on her own things half the time, but you can tell she’s always thinking, always observing. From what I’ve heard, Gen–senpai just… goes. Like they’re on autopilot.”

Satoru shrugged, not seeming too concerned. “Eh, maybe it’s just their style. You’ll know more about them soon enough. Besides…..” he added with a teasing grin. “Gen–Senpai’s probably just like that. They’re probably just that good, like me!”

Suguru rolled his eyes. "That's not exactly comforting."

“You worry too much, Suguru. If they’re handling all these missions, that’s a good thing. It means less work for us.” Satoru shot him a thumbs up, clearly pleased with this logic.

Suguru sighed, glancing out the window. The sun was setting, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Somewhere out there, you were probably on another mission, dealing with a curse that would make most sorcerers hesitate. And here he was, wondering just what kind of person could keep that pace up without burning out.

“I just hope they know when to slow down.” Suguru muttered, almost to himself.

Satoru smirked, catching the comment. “I’m sure that Gen–senpai knows to pace themselves. They’re more senior than us, you know? Trust the process!”

HE COULDN’T SLEEP. The cold mountain air greeted Suguru as he entered the small convenience store tucked away in the hills. He had been on a mission with Satoru and Shoko, but after hours of trekking through the wilderness and dealing with a minor cursed spirit, his stomach had started to complain loudly. As he wandered the aisles, looking for something that could pass for a meal, he caught a glimpse of someone familiar.

It was you.

Standing near the refrigerated section, you were calmly perusing the drinks. Suguru blinked, a bit surprised, but then it made sense. You were always on the move, tackling missions in places most sorcerers wouldn’t bother with. This isolated mountain range seemed right up your alley.

He offered a nod of acknowledgment, and you returned it, your expression neutral but not unfriendly. Suguru didn’t expect much conversation—after all, you were both here on business—but as he grabbed a rice ball and some instant noodles, he found himself wandering closer to where you stood.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Gen–senpai." Suguru said casually, placing his items in his basket. “Thought you’d be halfway across the country, based on the reports I’ve seen.”

You gave a small, almost imperceptible smile as you grabbed a bottle of green tea. “I was asked by a nearby temple to help strengthen their barrier defenses.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “A temple, huh? So even the local monks know who to call when things get tough?”

You shrugged lightly, as if it were no big deal. “It’s a small place, but they’ve had problems with cursed spirits slipping through their wards recently. I figured I’d take care of it.”

“Sounds like a fun assignment.” Suguru smirked, grabbing a few more snacks from the shelf. "How long have you been here?"

“Just a couple of days.” you replied, your tone calm, as though discussing something routine. “Should be done by tomorrow.”

Suguru glanced at you, curious. “And after that? Another mission?”

You paused for a moment, as if considering your answer. “Most likely. There’s always something else.”

Suguru chuckled. “You really don’t stop, do you?”

“Neither do you, don’t you?” you countered, meeting his gaze with a knowing look. You smiled. “I blinked and suddenly a second year.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. You had a point. "True, but I’m not out here fixing temple barriers in the middle of nowhere."

You tilted your head, a faint flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Someone has to.”

Suguru nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind your words. The life of a sorcerer wasn’t exactly predictable, and while you handled more than your fair share of missions, you did it because you knew it was necessary.

“Well, if you ever need a break, we’re staying nearby. Satoru’s probably driving Shoko crazy by now. Seeing you would probably save her.” Suguru said with a grin, imagining his two teammates bickering back at their base.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you said, though it was hard to tell whether you were serious or just humoring him. “If I finish fast, then I’ll contact you.”

Suguru gave a slight wave as he made his way to the checkout, his basket filled with enough food to get him through the night. As he left the store, he glanced back at you one more time. You were always moving, always working.

He wondered if you ever let yourself take a moment to breathe, but somehow, he doubted it. Still, for now, you were just two sorcerers in a convenience store, sharing a quiet moment amidst the chaos of your lives.

Suguru stood by the checkout counter, glancing at you with an expression somewhere between disbelief and confusion. He was sure you had a mission scheduled far from this remote mountain village. There had been reports—he knew the kind. It seemed like you were constantly juggling assignments from all over the country.

“You’re supposed to be somewhere else, right?” Suguru asked as you both placed your items on the counter.

“I know.” you replied, unfazed. “But I won't turn down a job.” Your tone was as steady as always, like this was just another day for you.

Suguru shook his head slightly, half impressed, half exasperated. You were relentless, never one to back down from work. He had heard plenty about how you balanced multiple missions in different regions. But there was something different about seeing it up close.

As the cashier rang up your items, Suguru reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. But before he could hand over any cash, you placed a hand on his wrist and shook your head.

“Put it away, Geto–kun.” you said with a small, amused smile. “I can’t let a kouhai pay for things.”

Suguru blinked, slightly taken aback but not entirely surprised. You had an air of authority about you, not just in your skills but in how you carried yourself. He sighed, reluctantly slipping his wallet back into his coat.

“You sure?” he asked, though he already knew what your answer would be.

“I’m sure.” you replied smoothly as you handed the cashier the money for both your purchases. “I know you get paid as much as a minister like me, but it's better to keep that money for yourself. I’m not letting a kouhai pay.”

As you left the store, bags in hand, the cool evening air settled around the two of you. The path you were taking happened to lead in the same direction, toward both the shrine you were tasked with protecting and Suguru’s temporary accommodations. You fell into step beside each other, the quiet of the mountain enveloping the conversation.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up. “Geto–kun…. Why did you decide to become a sorcerer?”

Suguru glanced at you, puzzled by the sudden question. “Huh?”

You kept your gaze forward, the faint sound of your footsteps mingling with the rustling of the wind. “I’m just curious. Some people ignore the call. They choose to live normal lives. So… what’s your reason?”

Suguru blinked, surprised by the depth of your question. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to answer. Most people didn’t bother asking why someone became a sorcerer. It was just assumed that if you had the ability, you used it. But you weren’t like most people.

He thought for a moment, his usual confidence dimmed slightly as he reflected on your question. “I guess… I wanted to protect those who can’t protect themselves.” he said eventually, his voice steady but sincere. “It sounds cliché, but that’s the truth. I want to be honorable in that duty.”

You looked at him, studying his expression. “Honorable, huh?”

He nodded, feeling a little more certain now. “Yeah. There’s a lot of bad out there, and I guess I just want to be someone who stands in the way of that.”

A faint smile touched your lips. “That’s a good answer, Geto–kun.”

He chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah? Well, it’s the only one I’ve got.”

You both continued walking, the temple drawing closer in the distance. Suguru found himself thinking more about your question, wondering if maybe you had asked him because of your own reasons—your own constant, relentless drive to take on mission after mission. But he didn’t press. Not yet.

“Why do you ask?” he ventured, curiosity getting the better of him.

You shrugged. “Just wondered what keeps you going.”

Suguru smiled softly. “Same thing that keeps you going, I guess. We’re both too stubborn to quit.”

You smiled slightly as you listened to Suguru's answer, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "That’s not a bad reason, Geto–kun." you said, your tone warm but thoughtful.

Suguru shook his head with a faint grin. "Maybe not. But Satoru thinks differently. He says it’s naive.”

That earned a snicker from you, and you glanced at him with an amused glint in your eyes. "Gojo–kun knows too much about jujutsu society. That’s why he’s cynical. It's hard not to be when you're aware of all the ugliness." You paused for a moment, considering your words before speaking again, a little more seriously this time. “But your dreams, Geto–kun….they’re beautiful. You want to protect people. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Suguru blinked, a little surprised by the genuine compliment. He hadn’t expected to hear that from you—someone who was always so grounded, so focused on the realities of the world. For a moment, it felt like his idealism wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

But then your expression shifted, more serious now. "Just don’t bear it too heavily, okay?" you warned softly. “It’ll hurt you if you do.”

Suguru frowned slightly, sensing the weight behind your words. “What do you mean?”

You exhaled, your gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Being a jujutsu sorcerer is proportionality, Geto–kun. There’s a balance in what we do. If you shoulder too much—if you put everyone else ahead of yourself—it’ll tear you apart. I’ve seen it happen.”

Suguru listened carefully, taking in your words. He had always admired your strength and resolve, but there was something about the way you spoke now, as though you had learned these lessons the hard way. "I get what you’re saying, but... if I don’t do it, who will?"

You gave him a smile, as if you knew that line of thinking all too well. “You don’t have to bear it alone. That’s what I’m saying. Keep yourself in check. You’re still young. You have Gojo–kun, don’t you? He’s your person. Talk to him when things get too heavy.”

Suguru felt a warmth creep up his neck as your words settled in. He was caught off guard, an unexpected blush rising to his cheeks. “Uh… I mean, yeah, Satoru is definitely—” His voice trailed off as he searched for the right words, suddenly aware of how closely you were watching him. There was something undeniably comforting in your gaze, and it made his heart race.

You smiled at him, a soft and encouraging expression that felt like a warm blanket on a chilly day. “I had someone like that too, you know? So I speak from experience.”

Suguru’s eyes widened in surprise, his curiosity piqued. “You did?”

“Of course! Everyone needs a Gojo–kun in their life,” you said, your tone teasing but affectionate. “Someone to share the burden with, even if they annoy you half the time.”

Suguru couldn’t help but chuckle at that, a lightness filling the air between you. “That sounds like him.”

“Right?” you replied, laughter dancing in your voice. “But really, it’s more than just sharing the burdens. It’s about the support. They’re there to lift you up when you feel like you’re sinking.” You paused, looking away for a moment as if reflecting on your own experiences. “And to keep you from doing something really stupid.”

He tilted his head, a playful smirk forming. “Like what? Getting into trouble?”

You met his gaze, your smile transforming into something a bit more mischievous. “Oh, you know. Like trying to fight a curse way out of your league without backup.” You winked at him, and Suguru’s heart skipped a beat. The easy banter felt effortless, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift.

“I would never do something like that.” he protested, crossing his arms in mock indignation. “I’m far too responsible.”

“Responsible, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “I’ve seen the way you and him bicker. If that isn’t a recipe for trouble, I don’t know what is. Yaga must suffer having to deal with the two of you often, doesn’t he?”

Suguru laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, fair point. But you still have to admit that Satoru can be a handful.”

“True enough, I suppose.” you conceded with a playful grin. “But that’s what makes him so much fun. And it’s nice knowing that someone’s got your back, even if they’re a little ridiculous sometimes.”

Suguru’s heart warmed at your words, a feeling of camaraderie blossoming between you. “You’re right. I guess it’s nice knowing I can lean on him, even if he doesn’t always act like it.”

“Exactly!” you said, your enthusiasm infectious. “And you can lean on me too, you know. Just because I’m older doesn’t mean I have all the answers.”

Suguru smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through him. “Thanks. That means a lot.” He paused, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. “So, who was your ‘person’?”

You looked away, your expression turning thoughtful as you seemed to reflect on a memory that danced just out of reach. The shift was subtle, but he noticed how the light in your eyes dimmed slightly, as if the joy of the moment had been overshadowed by something unspoken.

“Let’s just say… life doesn’t always work out the way you expect.” you replied softly, the weight of your past hanging in the air. “And it didn’t work with that person.”

Suguru’s heart ached for you, sensing that there was more to your story than you let on. But before he could press for details, you turned back to him, the sparkle in your eyes returning as if you were determined to lighten the mood. “But enough about me! Let’s focus on your beautiful dreams of saving the world. I mean, someone has to keep Gojo–kun in check, right?”

His laughter filled the space between you, dispelling the heaviness that had crept in for just a moment. “Yeah, that sounds like a full-time job!”

“Then I suggest you get plenty of rest, then.” you said, your tone teasing but genuine. “You’ll need all the energy you can get if you plan to take on both Gojo–kun and the curses. Don’t get injured too much too. Ieiri–chan deserves better than to suffer so much of you.”

Suguru nodded, feeling buoyed by the conversation. He didn’t quite know how to express it, but he felt a deeper connection with you—something that transcended the usual mentor-mentee relationship. You understood him in a way that was comforting and invigorating all at once.

As you both continued walking, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, he couldn’t help but feel grateful. “Thanks for talking, really. It helps to know I’m not alone in all of this, Gen–senpai.”

You smiled back at him, a soft, genuine expression that made his heart skip again. “Anytime, Geto–kun. Remember, you’ve got more support than you think. Call me when you need me.”

“Y–yes, Gen–senpai.”

You gave him a small nod, though your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Then I’ll be off. You worked hard today, Geto–kun. You should get some sleep.”

With that, you turned and began walking away, your footsteps steady yet purposeful. Geto Suguru hesitated for a moment, but he knew you had other matters to take care of. For the first time in a while, he thinks he doesn’t want you to go.

HE DOESN’T KNOW IF THIS WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN. But this is what happened as time went on. Geto Suguru walked along the winding path, the fading light of dusk casting long shadows behind him.

As he pondered the warmth of your recent conversation, a thought flickered in the back of his mind, growing more insistent with each passing moment. Could his heart grow bigger?

He had always felt love for Satoru and every day, it seemed to grow fonder, wanting, fiery; it was a bond forged through shared struggles, laughter, and an unspoken understanding that went deeper than words.

But now, as he reflected on all the times you had been there for him—guiding him through his studies, sharing your insights on cursed techniques, and even demonstrating how to wield cursed objects—he realized that his feelings for you had blossomed into something unexpected.

Every time Suguru sought your advice, you responded without a moment’s hesitation. Whether it was late at night, after exhausting missions, or in the quiet spaces between battles, you always made time for him.

You never wavered, never hesitated to share your knowledge, your insight. It was more than just advice; you offered your kindness, your quiet strength, in a way that left him feeling both deeply grateful and, at times, overwhelmed by the depth of your care.

He had never been good at asking for help. Even back then, pride had been one of his most stubborn traits. Yet with you, it felt different. He didn’t need to ask twice. You were always there—an unwavering presence amidst the chaos of their lives as sorcerers. You were someone who believed in him, even on the days when he struggled to believe in himself.

"How do you do it?" Suguru asked one evening after a particularly grueling mission. His voice was softer than usual, his usual sharp edge dulled by exhaustion and something heavier, more introspective. The two of you were sitting on the steps of Jujutsu High, the weight of the day’s battle settling in your bones, the moon casting a faint glow over the courtyard.

"Do what?" you asked, turning to face him, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes sparkled with that same warmth he had come to rely on, the one that could lighten the weight of the world in a single glance.

"Stay... so steady." he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck, almost embarrassed by the vulnerability in his question. "No matter what happens, no matter how heavy it all gets… you never falter. How do you keep going?"

You looked at him for a long moment, as if considering your answer, before your smile deepened. "Because it’s not just about me, Geto–kun. It’s about the people I care about. People like you, Gojo—kun…..my friends. That’s what keeps me steady. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."

Suguru’s throat tightened, and he looked away, his gaze drifting toward the darkened horizon. He wasn’t used to hearing those kinds of words—not directed at him. Not with such sincerity. "You make it sound so easy, senpai." he said, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "But sometimes it’s hard to keep going when everything feels like it’s falling apart."

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the moment. "It’s not easy. But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself, Geto–kun. You don’t have to face it alone."

He glanced at you then, his dark eyes meeting yours, searching for something in your gaze. You had always been there, always offering him that unwavering support, that steady presence he had come to admire so much.

It wasn’t just your strength as a sorcerer that left him in awe, though you were undeniably powerful. It was your heart. The way you cared, the way you saw through his defenses and believed in him—even when he didn’t deserve it.

"You’re always saying stuff like that." he said, his voice quieter now, more introspective. "Like it’s no big deal, like it’s just… who you are."

You tilted your head slightly, your smile softening. "Because it is who I am, Geto–kun. And who I’ll always be."

For a long time, neither of you spoke. Suguru felt the weight of those words, the sincerity in them wrapping around him like a balm to his weary soul. He admired you, more than he could ever put into words.

It wasn’t just your strength or your skills as a sorcerer that left him in awe; it was this—your unshakable kindness, your ability to see through the darkness and offer him light, no matter how heavy things became.

Suguru let those words settle over him, the warmth of your presence easing the ache in his chest, even if only for a little while. And in that moment, he realized that no matter how heavy the burdens became, no matter how far he fell—he’d always have this. He’d always have you, a constant light in his life, even when everything else seemed to crumble.

But he couldn’t help wondering, deep down, if he’d ever be able to hold onto it. Or if the darkness inside him would eventually swallow it whole.

He exhaled slowly, leaning back on his elbows, gazing up at the sky. "You know….." he said after a while, "it’s not just Satoru I stay for. You’re… you’re part of the reason too, Gen–senpai."

Your smile wavered, just for a moment, your gaze softening as you studied him. "I’m glad to hear that." you said quietly. "I’m really glad, Geto–kun.”

“Suguru.”

“Hm?”

“Senpai, you can call me Suguru too.” He whispers as he looks at you. “You call Satoru and Shoko by their names now. You don’t have to call me so…so formally.”

“Oh.” You say and then you smile. “Have I made you feel distant? I’m sorry, Suguru–kun.”

“N–no….it’s okay, senpai.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Suguru–kun.” You say, pulling at his hand and grinned. “Come on, I’ll get us both some chocolate milk in the vending machine.”

“Senpai—”

You giggled. “Come, Suguru–kun!”

Amid this warm affection, uncertainty gnawed at him. Would you ever return such feelings? Did you even see him in that light? And then there was Satoru—his best friend, his other half. How could he possibly explain these newfound feelings? Would Satoru understand, or would he see it as a betrayal?

Suguru sighed, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. Burying these feelings felt like the only option. It was better to keep them hidden, to preserve the relationships he cherished rather than risk losing them all.

After all, love was complicated enough in their world, full of curses and dangers; why complicate it further with feelings that might never see the light of day?

He glanced up at the sky, the first stars twinkling into view. As much as he wanted to be honest with you, the fear of rejection held him back. It was safer to keep his heart guarded, to let the affection remain a quiet ember in the depths of his soul rather than a blazing fire that might scorch everything he held dear.

As he walked, he couldn’t help but think of you, the way your laughter lit up the dullest of days, the kindness in your voice that made everything seem possible. You were someone worth cherishing, someone who had woven your way into the fabric of his life without him even realizing it.

Suguru led you into his room, a cozy space filled with posters of various bands and an impressive collection of CDs lining the shelves. He smiled sheepishly, his fingers brushing against the cases as he gestured for you to take a closer look.

But for now, he would remain silent, allowing his heart to hold onto those feelings, tucking them away in a corner where they wouldn’t threaten to disrupt the fragile balance of his relationships.

It was a bittersweet decision, one that left him feeling both relieved and sorrowful as he continued down the path, the shadows of the mountains rising around him like an embrace—dark, protective, and filled with the weight of unspoken love.

“Uh, so this is my collection. You told me that you like this sort of music.” he said, a hint of pride lacing his words, though his cheeks flushed slightly as he glanced at you. “I’ve been collecting for a while now.”

You stepped closer, examining the colorful album covers and their eclectic mix of genres. “Wow, Suguru! This is impressive! I didn’t know you were such a music aficionado.” you remarked, genuinely intrigued.

His bashfulness intensified at the compliment, and he scratched the back of his neck, a shy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, well, it’s just something I really enjoy. It helps me focus when I’m training, you know?”

You nodded, picking up a CD with a vibrant cover. “I can see why! Your taste is really good! I mean, look at this—Queen, Bowie? They’re amazing! How did you even discover them?”

Suguru’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and he shrugged, trying to downplay your praise. “Oh, I just… stumbled upon them a while back. They have a unique sound that I like.”

You laughed softly, putting the CD back on the shelf and meeting his gaze. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Seriously, these choices are fantastic. You’ve got a great ear for music!”

His bashful smile widened, and he felt a warm flutter in his chest. “Thanks. I just like to find music that speaks to me.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think anyone would really notice.”

“Of course, I notice! Music has a way of bringing people together, and I think it’s awesome that you have such a passion for it.” you encouraged, leaning against the shelf and crossing your arms, your smile encouraging. “You should share it more often!”

Suguru fidgeted slightly, glancing down at the CDs as if they held the answers to his swirling emotions. “Maybe... I just never thought it was a big deal, senpai.” he mumbled, his gaze drifting back to you, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest.

“Well, I think it is.” you said firmly, your eyes sparkling with sincerity. “I’d love to hear your favorites sometime. Maybe we could listen together? Bring Satoru–kun and Shoko–chan. I’m sure Yu–kun and Kento–kun. I’m sure we’ll have fun together, don’t you think?”

His heart raced at the idea, and he nodded slowly, a smile breaking through his bashfulness. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’d like that, senpai.” he replied, his voice steadying as he felt a new sense of confidence in your presence. “On your next day off, I suppose.”

You grinned, feeling a warmth spread between you. “It’s a deal, then! Just warn me if you’re about to play something super embarrassing.”

Suguru chuckled, the tension easing. “I’ll do my best, but no promises. I have a few guilty pleasures.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Suguru-kun.” you teased, your laughter filling the room and making Suguru feel a little more at ease, his heart buoyed by the connection growing between you.

HE THINKS HE FEELS WHOLE WHEN HE’S WITH SATORU. But even as Suguru grappled with his thoughts, a flicker of hope ignited within him. He often found himself wondering if he would feel even more complete when he, you, and Satoru were together. The notion that the three of you could create something beautiful filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was in the quiet moments he treasured the most—the laughter shared over late-night snacks, the easy camaraderie that unfolded when you all trained together, pushing one another to be better.

The way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you planned pranks on Satoru or the way Satoru’s laughter rang out like music, brightening the air around you both. Suguru couldn’t shake the feeling that these moments, filled with laughter and love, would fill the empty spaces inside him, the ones he hadn’t known were there until you came into his life.

He had seen the dynamic unfold before him. You and Satoru, with your effortless chemistry, often made him feel like an outsider looking in, yet there was a part of him that ached for that connection. The thought of you all laughing together, of sharing joy and camaraderie, tugged at his heartstrings. It was a simple dream, but one that seemed almost unattainable.

In his more vulnerable moments, he’d fantasized about the three of you taking on missions together. “Can you imagine?” he’d whispered to you one evening, the stars glittering overhead. “Just the three of us, fighting side by side. I think we could take on anything.”

You had chuckled softly, your eyes shining with warmth. “We’d be unstoppable!” you replied, your tone light yet filled with genuine belief. “We’d have fun too, and maybe even find a way to make it all bearable.”

Suguru nodded, savoring the idea. But there was still an ache in his heart, a worry that he might ruin it somehow, that he might overshadow the happiness you shared with Satoru.

The darkness that he often felt creeping at the edges of his mind made him question if he could truly be a part of that happiness. Would he be an anchor weighing you down, or could he learn to fly alongside you both?

As he watched you and Satoru interact, he often found himself captivated by the way you lit up around each other. The way you made each other laugh, the shared glances filled with unspoken understanding. 

He could see the joy radiating from you both, and it stirred something deep within him—a longing for connection, for belonging. Suguru had never considered himself a jealous person, but witnessing the bond between you and Satoru often left him with a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

But there was also a growing realization: he didn’t have to fit into the mold of either of you. He could bring his own light to the trio, his own flavor to the friendship. Each of you had your strengths and weaknesses, and together, you could create something beautiful—a tapestry woven from laughter, shared struggles, and undeniable bonds.

He let himself imagine those scenarios, the three of you exploring the city at night, catching dinner at your favorite spot, or the three of you sprawled out on the floor, playing video games until dawn. Geto Suguru envisioned the sound of your laughter ringing through the air, the feeling of camaraderie that would surround you like a warm embrace.

In those fleeting moments of hope, he realized that he could be happy. You had already shown him that he could find joy again, even amidst the shadows. If he could just allow himself to take the leap, to embrace the uncertainty, maybe he would find himself even fuller—more vibrant—when you, Satoru, and he were together.

Suguru knew it wouldn’t be easy. He had demons to battle, insecurities that needed confronting, but with you and Satoru by his side, perhaps he could learn to navigate those turbulent waters. And as he caught your gaze across the room one day, that hopeful warmth bloomed in his chest, pushing away the lingering doubts that had clouded his mind.

Maybe he thought. We really could have fun together. Maybe we could create something that would light up the darkest corners of our hearts. 

And for the first time in a long time, the possibility of a brighter future seemed within reach, one filled with laughter, love, and unbreakable bonds.

Satoru and Suguru sat down in his bed for a long while after a night spent tangled in each other's arms. The moonlight filtered softly through the windows, casting a silver glow over their quiet breaths. Their bodies still thrummed with the lingering heat, but in the calm that followed, there was space for something deeper. 

Satoru, leaning back with a gentle sigh, broke the silence. "I think... I’ve fallen in love with them." he confessed, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. He looked at Suguru. “Gen–senpai.”

Suguru turned his head slightly, his dark purple eyes finding Satoru’s, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. He didn’t speak right away, but then, slowly, a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. He smiled against his shoulder. “Yeah… I have too.”

The corner of Satoru’s lips quivered into a warm smile, eyes soft as he looked at Suguru. “It doesn’t make me love you any less, you know.” he said, sincerity coloring every word.

Suguru’s laughter bubbled up again, deeper this time, as he shook his head. “I know that.” he replied, eyes twinkling. “It just means we’ve both grown a bigger heart, doesn’t it?”

Satoru nodded, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from Suguru’s face. “I want to make them happy. I want to protect them from the world, the way I do you. I want us to be happy together.”

Suguru leaned into Satoru’s touch, his own smile softening. “I want the same thing.” His voice held the weight of a promise, one made in the stillness of the night, where only truth lingered between them.

AND YET, NOTHING EVER GOES TO HUMAN WISHES. The world had shattered when Amanai Riko died, a blow so devastating it left an unfillable void. The trauma of loss, grief, and anguish twisted within Geto Suguru like a storm he could no longer control. 

He had always been strong, holding the weight of so many expectations, but that moment—the senseless death of someone they were meant to protect—was the catalyst that began his unraveling.

You had been furious. Suguru had seen it, felt it in the way your energy crackled with righteous anger on their behalf. You had stormed into arguments with Yaga and Gakuganji, your voice sharp with frustration. 

You called them out, unrelenting, accusing them of failing Suguru and Satoru, of putting too much on their shoulders. You offered to take on their missions, as if sacrificing yourself would shield them from the horrors of this world. Suguru had appreciated your fierce loyalty, but he also saw through the mask you wore.

He saw the weariness in your eyes, the deep, bone-deep fatigue that mirrored his own. You were just as tired, just as broken by this life as he was, and yet you clung to hope—for them, if not for yourself. But hope wasn't enough to keep the darkness at bay.

Over time, the distance between them grew like a slow tear in fabric—once so tightly knit, now fraying at the edges. Suguru and Satoru, the strongest, the unbreakable pair, were drifting apart. The burdens neither of them could fully share weighed heavier with each passing day. 

Satoru, with all his strength, was consumed by his own responsibilities, the guilt over Riko’s death haunting him like a shadow. He was there, but only in the physical sense, his heart and mind distant, somewhere beyond reach.

And you—you were caught in the middle, silently holding together Suguru’s burdens on top of your own. You were trying to hold everything together, the glue between the cracks that had begun to form. You had always been the one to fight for them, to step into the line of fire if it meant protecting them from pain. But this pain was different. It was insidious, creeping into every corner of your life, until it weighed so heavy you could hardly breathe.

"Are you okay?" Suguru had asked you one evening, his voice soft but lined with concern. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the answer you wouldn’t say.

You had smiled, that same practiced, hollow smile that had become second nature. "I’m fine, Suguru–kun." you replied, your voice steady but empty.

Suguru frowned, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward, his hand reaching for yours. "You don’t have to be fine all the time. Not with me."

"I am fine." you repeated, pulling your hand away gently, your heart heavy with the lie. You wanted to believe it, for his sake and your own. But you weren’t fine. Not at all.

You were just as broken as he was. Maybe more.

Then Haibara died.

It wasn’t just another loss—it was the breaking point. Haibara was one of the brightest lights in their dark world, a beacon of hope, of goodness. His death wasn’t just tragic—it was devastating, senseless, another reminder of how cruel and indifferent the world was.

That night, Suguru came to you, his face pale, eyes hollow with grief. He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stood in your doorway, the weight of everything that had happened hanging in the air like a fog. You could feel the walls closing in around both of you, the suffocating pressure of everything you had tried so hard to ignore.

"I can’t do this anymore, Gen–senpai." Suguru finally said, his voice raw, barely above a whisper. He stepped into the room, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. "I can’t watch this happen over and over again."

You swallowed the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "Suguru…"

"No, no." he cut you off, shaking his head as he sat down beside you. "I’m done pretending. I’m done lying to myself that we’re doing something good here. That this means anything."

You looked at him, your heart aching at the defeat in his voice. "It does mean something," you said, though even as the words left your mouth, they felt empty. How many times had you told yourself that same thing, hoping it would be enough to keep you going?

Suguru’s gaze met yours, and in his eyes, you saw it—the breaking. The man you once knew, the one who had carried the weight of others without hesitation, was falling apart. He let out a bitter laugh, one that sent a shiver down your spine. 

"Does it? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it anymore. I’ve watched too many people die. Too many good people. And for what? So the next mission can take the next person? So we can lose more friends, more lives, and call it ‘necessary’?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Because deep down, you agreed. Haibara’s death had been a tipping point for you, too. You were so tired—so tired. Of fighting, of losing, of trying to keep it all together. And Satoru… He had been slipping further and further away, lost in his own world of guilt and self-reproach, leaving you to carry the pieces of what was left.

"I wanted to save people." Suguru continued, his voice cracking as his hands balled into fists. "But I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Haibara. I can’t save anyone. Not anymore."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with something dark, something final. "It’s broken, and I don’t know how to fix it anymore."

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "You don’t have to fix it, Suguru–kun. We’ll get through this. We always do."

He gave you a sad smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "I don’t think I can do that anymore."

And then, in the stillness of the night, something in Suguru snapped. You could see it—the cold, detached resolve settling over him like a heavy cloak. The next thing you knew, he had left, and when he came back, it was with blood on his hands.

He had murdered that village. And the man you knew, the man who had once fought so hard to protect, was gone.

The weight of the sorrow, the anger, the pain. All of it became too much to bear. He saw the world for what it was: a place full of suffering that would never stop unless someone made it stop. 

And so, in the dead of night, he walked into that village, his heart cold, his mind set on a singular purpose. He slaughtered them all—men, women, children as if purging the world of that one village might somehow ease the weight in his chest.

It didn’t.

But it was the moment Geto Suguru stopped trying to be the person he once was. And it was the night he fully embraced the path that would lead him to become something else—someone who no longer fought for the world, but against it.

The first person he came to see after it all happened was you.

Suguru stood in your doorway, still dressed in his bloodstained uniform, his face unreadable beneath the coldness that had settled in his eyes. The moonlight cast pale shadows across his face, but you weren’t stunned by his presence. 

You had already known—felt it the moment it happened. What he had done. It was like that night with Kaiko all over again, when she had shown up before you, her hands dripping with blood, her eyes empty of remorse.

You stared at him, your expression calm, though your heart weighed heavy in your chest. "Why are you here, Suguru?" you asked, your voice soft, almost tired. You had been waiting for this.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered across your face, searching for something—understanding, maybe. Forgiveness, perhaps. He stepped into your space, his presence filling the room, but the warmth that once came with him was gone.

"I’m building something new." he said quietly. "A world where we don’t have to suffer anymore. Where we’re free from this endless cycle of death and pain." His voice was steady, but there was something hollow in it, something broken that couldn’t be fixed. "I came to ask if you’d come with me."

You blinked, his words hanging in the air between you like a heavy fog. "Why me?" you asked, your eyes meeting him, searching for something in the depths of his darkness. "Why not ask Satoru?"

Suguru flinched, just barely, but enough for you to notice. His jaw clenched, and he didn’t answer. He looked away, as if the mention of Satoru’s name was too much, too painful. It said everything you needed to know without him having to say a word.

You sighed softly, sadness curling in your chest like a quiet ache. You smiled at him then, a soft, bittersweet smile, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. You deeply adored him, cared for him, just as you do with Satoru, but this wasn’t the path you could walk. Not this.

"I’m sorry, Suguru." you whispered, your voice trembling at the edges.

His eyes met yours again, and for a moment—just a fleeting second—you saw the man you once knew. The man who cared, who wanted to save people, who carried the world with you. But it was gone just as quickly as it came, swallowed by the void he had fallen into.

He nodded, his expression hardening once more. He didn’t say anything as he turned to leave, but the silence between you was louder than words. You watched him go, knowing that the Suguru you once knew had already walked away long before he came to you tonight.

And all you could do was whisper to the emptiness left in his wake, "I’m sorry."

epilogue

YOU NEVER EXPECTED IT. It was 2014, the first time you had seen him in years. You were in Hida, nestled in the tranquility of the forest, resting after Satoshi’s birth. The crisp mountain air surrounded you, the soft rustle of leaves above matching the rhythm of your quiet hum as you cradled your son in your arms.

Leaning against the broad trunk of a tree, you let the peacefulness of the moment wrap around you, the soft melody filling the air as Satoshi dozed in your embrace.

You sensed him before you saw him—Suguru. His presence had always been familiar, a deep current of energy that used to pull you in, but now it was different, muted somehow. When you finally looked up, there he was, standing just a few feet away, watching you with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Is that the same song you used to hum to me when you brushed my hair?” he asked, his voice low, carrying the weight of memories with it.

Your fingers stilled for a moment in Satoshi’s soft hair, and you turned your gaze back to your son, trying to keep the ache in your chest at bay. "What are you doing here, Suguru?" you asked quietly, your eyes focused on the peaceful rise and fall of Satoshi’s breathing, trying to steady your own.

He stepped closer, moving with that same graceful ease you remembered. "I wanted to visit you," he said, the smile widening just a fraction. It wasn’t the smile you remembered—the warmth had long since faded from it, replaced with something distant, something unreadable.

You didn’t look up as he sat down beside you, close but not touching, the space between you now more than just physical distance. You hummed softly in response, acknowledging his presence but keeping your focus on Satoshi. "You’ve gotten better at hiding your cursed scent." you remarked, your tone light, though the words carried a quiet truth.

Suguru hummed back, leaning against the tree beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Thank you for the compliment."

For a moment, there was silence between you, the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the faint cooing of Satoshi. The years that had passed felt like lifetimes, like different worlds had formed between you. And yet, in that quiet moment, it felt almost like before. Almost.

But not quite.

"Things change." Suguru said after a while, his voice soft, almost contemplative. You didn’t respond, just continued humming the tune you once sang to him all those years ago, when the world was different, when you were different. He listened quietly, the weight of his presence beside you both a comfort and a reminder of the distance that could never fully be bridged.

You didn’t need to ask why he was really there. You already knew. He wasn’t just visiting. He was mourning you, mourning Satoru. Mourning this life. Right in front of you.

You glanced at him, the man you hadn’t seen in so long, the ghost of someone you once knew. “How have you been, Suguru?” you asked softly, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer, or if it even mattered after all this time.

He smiled, a shadow of the one you remembered from years ago. “I’ve been well,” he said, though the weight in his voice suggested otherwise. He was never one to reveal his heart so easily, especially now, when the chasm between you both felt endless.

You nodded, accepting the answer for what it was. Then, after a moment, you asked, “Do you know Satoru’s coming to visit me?”

Suguru didn’t hesitate, his smile turning a touch wry. “I know, I know.” he said, his tone laced with familiarity. “I can smell Satoru from miles away.”

You hummed in response, a quiet acknowledgment of the strange and complicated bond they still shared. The tension between them had always been palpable, the kind that came from loving someone too deeply, from sharing too much history and heartache.

At that moment, Satoshi stirred in your arms, his tiny fists unclenching as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He blinked up at Suguru, his deep blue eyes—the same piercing shade as Satoru’s—curious and bright.

Suguru looked at him for a long moment, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “He reminds me of Satoru.” he murmured, his voice softened, the edge gone. There was a warmth in his gaze that was almost foreign to you now.

You smiled softly, nodding. “He should. I married Satoru, and Satoshi is our son.”

For a brief moment, Suguru’s eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite name—an echo of something long gone, something distant and unreachable. You wondered if it was regret. Regret for the life he could have had, for the choices he made that led him away from this quiet happiness.

You couldn’t help but think of what could have been—how different things would be if he had stayed. If you had been together, building a life, raising Satoshi together. It would have been a beautiful life, you thought, with him in it.

Suguru reached out, his fingers gentle as they traced the soft curve of Satoshi’s cheek. His touch was delicate, almost reverent. He whispered a blessing under his breath, a prayer for a long, happy life, his voice barely audible but filled with a tenderness that tugged at your heart.

You watched him, your chest tightening with the weight of everything left unsaid. “Suguru…” you whispered, your voice trembling, almost heartbroken. The reality of the moment pressed in on you, the finality of it.

He looked at you then, his eyes soft but distant, as if he had already begun to slip away. “I have to go now.” he said quietly, standing up, his movements slow, deliberate. “Satoru grows near.”

You couldn’t stop him, though a part of you wanted to reach out, to pull him back into your life, to ask him to stay, to find some way to heal what had been broken. But you knew it was too late for that.

But that life was not yours to live. Not anymore.

As Suguru stood up to leave, the words spilled from your lips before you could stop them. "If Kaiko was the light of my life, and Satoru the love of my life…." you said, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with emotion. "Then you, Suguru… you are the loss of my life."

For a moment, he paused, his back still turned to you. The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything that had been broken, of everything that could never be repaired. Slowly, Suguru turned to face you, and when he did, there was that smile again—so soft, so sad, it made your heart ache.

"I know." he whispered, his voice gentle but lined with sorrow. His dark eyes met yours, filled with the kind of understanding that only comes with time, with regret. "You and Satoru were mine."

The truth of it hung between you, raw and painful. Your heart clenched, and the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sobs, but the grief you had carried for so long, the grief of losing him, of losing what you all could have been, spilled out like a wound reopening.

Satoshi stirred in your arms, his little face scrunching in concern. Noticing your tears, he reached up with his tiny baby hands, clumsily trying to wipe them away. His touch was soft, innocent, and it only made your heart ache more. You held him close, your tears falling onto his soft hair, as you tried to compose yourself.

Suguru watched for a moment, his expression unreadable, as if he were memorizing this final image of you and Satoshi, this life he had chosen to walk away from. And then, without another word, he turned and left.

You watched him go, your vision blurred by tears, your heart breaking with each step he took away from you. This was the end—the last goodbye. The loss you had always feared would come, finally settling into your bones, leaving behind a hollow, aching space that would never be filled.

Satoshi cooed softly, still reaching for your face, his small hands warm against your skin. You held him close, feeling the bittersweet weight of your love for him, for Satoru, for Suguru—all of it tangled together in a web of memories and emotions that would never fully fade.

Suguru was gone, and with him, the last piece of a life you once dreamed of.

Gojo Satoru arrived not long after, his familiar presence filling the quiet space of the forest as he approached. You looked up from where you sat, still holding Satoshi close. The moment his eyes met yours, you saw the flicker of concern cross his face. He noticed, of course. He always did.

"Hey." he said softly, crouching down beside you, his voice gentle as the breeze. His gaze lingered on your face, taking in the remnants of the tears you had wiped away.

You smiled at him, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, but one you hoped would be enough. “I cried because Satoshi’s just so adorable, Satoru.” you said, your voice light, almost playful, as you nuzzled your son’s soft hair. “Our son’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

Satoru looked at you, and even though you knew he didn’t believe you, he didn’t press. His blue eyes searched yours for a moment longer before his lips quivered into a knowing, sad smile. “Is that so?” he murmured, tilting his head as if playing along. 

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his warmth grounding you in a way only he could. Then, with the same tenderness, he kissed Satoshi’s little head, making your son giggle softly in your arms.

But you knew he could sense it—Suguru’s lingering presence in the air, in the space you all once shared. Satoru’s bond with Suguru was something words could never fully capture, and even if they hadn’t spoken in years, he could feel that he had been here. You could see it in the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the way his smile faltered for a split second before he steadied himself.

And you knew, in that quiet, unspoken way between the two of you, that Satoru was mourning too. Not just for Suguru’s absence in his life, but for the life that could have been—what you all could have had if things had been different.

But like always, Satoru didn’t say anything about it. He just stayed there, next to you, his presence a comfort as Satoshi began to babble happily, oblivious to the undercurrent of sadness hanging in the air. You leaned into Satoru, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, as the quiet settled between you.

Together, you mourned for Suguru in the silence. You didn’t need to say it. He didn’t need to ask. You both understood the ache that would always remain for the one who had been lost to you both.

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i really think satosugu love carrying you around. i really fucking do!!!

( implied polyamory ) you’d be chatting with suguru in your shared bedroom while casually changing out of your outer wear, and after you turn around subsequent to getting rid of your pants, he has his arms open and is bending forward to welcome you in his hold. and you obey, walking over to be have him pick you up like a koala, being chauffeured to the bathroom. you’re drawn a bath while you’re sat down on top of the washing machine with a forehead kiss.

satoru loves to playfight with you & half of it is concluded by you being thrown over his shoulder, easily carrying you by the grip of your thighs as you throw small-fisted punches at his back. he flips you here n there with no difficulty, sometimes if you turn to feisty bites as a weapon he’ll flinch, then snicker, but he wouldn’t drop you ever.

“satoruuu—!” you’d complain by the time you’re flopping in his hands, held up in the air, like a kitten. “i’m gettin’ dizzy..!”

and he’d do his bidding, pulling you close so you can rest your chin upon his shoulder as he rubs your back in circles, calling the fight off. you’d get victory-tickles, though. in general he loves delivering you over his shoulder, for so long you could level up in hay day by the time he puts you on your feet.

suguru rests his cheeks between your thighs as you sit on his wide shoulders, not needing to hold your shins for balance. sometimes he drums on your knees with his fingers & nuzzles your thighs to get your attention if he wants to show you something. when you’re feeling silly you clench your thighs against his cheeks while he’s speaking, muffling his words (he’ll bite them).

satoru sometimes bears you under his arm like you’re a sack of lightweight potatoes.

they take turns carrying your asleep body from the couch to bed in bridesmaid style. they let you sit on one of their singular shoulders, akin to a trophy. they lift you by your waist or ribs to help you reach something. hell, they will pass you over to switch who gets to hold their favorite baby.

satosugu love to lift you around like you don’t have fucking legs oml let me tell you !!!!!

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aftermath

Getou Suguru shows up on your doorstep. It’s not the first time, but when you look at him, at the blood spattered across his clothing, you think it might be the last.

There will be consequences when the dust settles, you know.

You let him in anyway.

notes: i think a lot about suguru and the immediate/direct aftermath of his final mission for jujutsu tech, particularly in regards to him suddenly having two traumatized little girls to take care of. i don’t think he has any remorse about his actions at all, but there’s still a lot for him to process.

word count: 1.8k

as always, minors & ageless blogs dni.

gn!reader, major jjk spoilers (gojo’s past arc), child abuse, implications/references to institutionalization and mass murder, vulnerable suguru/he’s kinda in shock, non-sexual nudity/intimacy, bathing/washing, angst, some hurt/comfort (maybe?)

“Hey.”

Sometimes you wish you were capable of shutting the door in Getou Suguru’s face, but you know you never will be. Not even when you should.

He’s serene on your doorstep, his shoulders loose, but that smile of his—polite in name only, a sweet tilt of his lips with a kiss of smugness tucked into the corner of his mouth, flickering into something more and more real the longer you know him—is missing.

The air tastes sharp, like the first bite of an ozone-thick summer storm. You think of the slowing spin of a top, of the final bobbles of it, the promise of a fall.

Because Suguru wears the future on his face. It’s in the brutal calm of the set of his mouth. It’s in the keen edge of his vulpine eyes, gone wine-dark. And while he’s scrubbed away the worst of it, there’s a thick streak of blood going tacky on his temple, already fading into a rusty brown.

Something behind your ribs starts to crack open.

(Sometimes you think all sorcerers begin to grieve before they even know what they’ve lost.)

He is holding hands with two little girls.

Keep reading

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