You should've known you wouldn't be able to hide it.
"Why are you limping?"
Zayne has been home from his two week business trip all of 4 minutes, and you've already been found out. You do your best to smile reassuringly, but you know he can sense the guilt. Curse him and his incredible ability to read you.
"Before you freak out, I'm fine. It's just...a minor sprain. No big deal!" Your words apparently mean nothing, because you blink and he's lifting you into the air, carrying you to the couch.
"Wh-come on Zayne I'm fine! I can still walk!" You complain, but you go quiet seeing the look on his face. Almost shell-shocked, the concern so clearly etched as he gently sets you down and kneels to inspect your ankle.
"You shouldn't walk on it." He moves your foot, murmuring an apology when you wince in pain.
"Greyson said I-I could after a week." Zayne pauses, glancing up at you in confusion. You press your lips together, cursing yourself for speaking without thinking. Poor Greyson. You'll send him an apology for how rough his Monday is going to be.
"When exactly did this happen?" He's clearly upset, but it's outweighed by his concern as he forms an ice pack with his evol and holds it to your skin.
"Oh! Um about two days after you left? I didn't want to worry you! I knew it'd be a while before you got back. The last thing I wanted was for you to be distracted thinking of me." He clenches his jaw, setting the ice aside and moving to sit next to you.
Zayne has never been good at hiding his worry from you. Even now, despite his disappointment that you'd spent the past two weeks lying to him, it's clear he's more concerned with you than anything.
"I am always distracted thinking about you. I'm quite adjusted to the feeling. Please...don't hide these things from me."
"Okay. I won't, I promise. Will you lay down with me now? We have two weeks of cuddling to catch up on."
synopsis. Gojo Satoru has never been the jealous type. He's confident, untouchable, the strongest — why would he ever feel threatened? Then some guy at a work event puts his hand on your lower back, and Satoru learns something new about himself. He's very, very jealous. (And terrible at hiding it.)
pairing. gojo satoru x f!reader
content & warnings. fluff, jealous gojo (soft version), established relationship, possessive but not toxic, satoru is EMBARRASSED about being jealous, protective vibes, kissing, LOTS of pet names, shoko and geto teasing gojo HIHII
word count. 3.4k+ (does not include text messages!)
A/N. this is part one of the satoru as your boyfriend series!! HES SO CUTEE AWHAWH
Satoru didn't get jealous.
That was the thing about being him. He was Gojo Satoru — the strongest sorcerer in the world, the most wanted man in every room he walked into, the kind of person who could have absolutely anything or anyone he wanted. Jealousy was for people who had something to fear. People who weren't sure of themselves. People who weren't him.
And he had nothing to fear.
Or so he told himself, standing in the corner of yet another boring Jujutsu High networking event, a glass of champagne dangling from his fingers that he hadn't taken a single sip from.
"You're doing it again," Shoko said, not even looking up from her phone. She was leaned against the wall next to him, already bored out of her mind, watching the room through half-lidded eyes.
"Doing what?" Satoru asked, his voice casual. Too casual.
"That thing where you stare at someone like you're calculating exactly how to make them disappear from the face of the earth. You know. Your specialty."
Satoru's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I'm not staring at anyone."
"You've been staring at that guy for seven minutes," Shoko replied, finally glancing up. Her eyes followed his gaze across the room. "Seven minutes, Satoru. I counted."
"I've been observing," he corrected, his tone clipped. "There's a difference."
"Mm. And what, exactly, are you observing?"
Satoru didn't answer. Because he couldn't. Because if he opened his mouth right now, he might say something he couldn't take back — something like "I'm observing the way his hand keeps finding excuses to touch my girlfriend's arms" or "I'm observing how he's standing way too close to her" or "I'm observing the exact angle I'd need to Infinity his stupid face into next week."
Shoko finally looked up from her phone, following his gaze across the room. You were talking to someone — some assistant from the Kyoto branch, some guy Satoru didn't recognize and didn't care to know. The guy was tall, annoyingly handsome, and he kept laughing at things you said. Too loudly. Too eagerly. Like he was trying to impress you.
Like he didn't see Satoru standing right there.
"You're jealous," Shoko said flatly.
"I'm not jealous."
"You're literally turning green."
"I'm not turning anything—" Satoru started, but then he saw it. The guy's hand slid down to the small of your back. Casually. Like he had any right to touch you there. Like your boyfriend wasn't ten feet away, watching the whole thing.
Satoru's eye twitched.
Shoko smirked, taking a slow sip of her drink. "Oh, this is going to be good."
You were mid-conversation — something about mission protocols, something boring that you were only half-paying attention to because this guy had been talking for five minutes and you were starting to wonder where Satoru had wandered off to — when you felt an arm wrap around your waist.
Not roughly. Not aggressively. Just... there. Warm and familiar and distinctly his. The arm tightened just slightly, pulling you back against a solid chest, and you felt the brush of lips against your temple — soft, almost absent, like he couldn't help himself.
"Hey, baby," Satoru said, his voice smooth and easy. But you felt his fingers press just a little more firmly into your hip. A reminder. A claim. Mine.
You looked up at him. His blindfold was on, but his head was tilted in that particular way that meant he was looking at the guy across from you. Not glaring. Not threatening. Just... looking. The kind of looking that made lesser men break into a cold sweat.
"Hey, sweetheart," you said back, playing along even though you knew exactly what he was doing. "I was wondering where you went."
"Got bored," he shrugged, but his arm didn't move from your waist. Not an inch. "Who's your friend, pretty girl?"
The guy — you'd already forgotten his name, something with a K maybe? — shifted uncomfortably under Satoru's unseen gaze. "I'm— we were just discussing—"
"Great." Satoru smiled. Not his real smile. The other one. The one that didn't reach his eyes and made everyone who saw it take a small step backward. "Well, we should get going, my love. Things to do. People to see."
"We do?"
"We do." He was already steering you away, his hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back — right where that other guy's hand had been. Like he was erasing the touch. Replacing it with his own. "Nice meeting you. Enjoy the rest of your night, yeah?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He just guided you across the room, his touch warm and steady, until you were standing by the windows at the far end of the venue, away from everyone else, the city lights glittering behind the glass.
"Satoru," you said, turning to face him. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"What was what, darling?" He was playing innocent, but his ears were already turning pink.
"You just... dragged me away from a conversation."
"I didn't drag you, princess. I escorted you. There's a difference."
"That's literally the same thing."
"It's really not."
"Satoru."
He sighed, running a hand through his white hair. His blindfold had slipped slightly during his dramatic intervention, and you could see the edge of his eyebrow, the furrow in his brow. He looked flustered. Embarrassed. Cute.
"Who was that guy, anyway?" he asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
You blinked. "I don't know. Some assistant from Kyoto? I think his name started with a K?"
"And he had to stand that close to you?"
"He was just talking, Satoru."
"His hand was on your back, sweetheart." Satoru's voice dropped, losing its playful edge. "I saw it. He put his hand on your lower back and left it there for way too long."
"He was just being polite, Satoru." you pointed out, though you were struggling not to smile. "Not everyone is trying to steal me away."
"I touch your back when we talk," he said, stepping closer. His hands found your waist again, pulling you gently toward him. "He doesn't get to."
You stared up at him — at his pink ears, his slightly furrowed brow, the way his bottom lip was caught between his teeth like he was trying not to say something he'd regret.
And then, slowly, you smiled.
"Satoru," you said, drawing out his name like a tease. "Are you jealous?"
"No."
"You are. You're totally jealous."
"I'm not jealous. I'm protective. There's a difference, princess."
"Name one difference."
"The difference is—" He stopped. Paused. His ears went from pink to red. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
"You're so jealous, baby."
"I'm not—" He groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder in defeat. His arms wrapped around you fully, pulling you against his chest. "You're impossible, you know that?"
You laughed, reaching up to run your fingers through his messy white hair. He melted into your touch instantly, his whole body relaxing against yours, a soft hum escaping his throat.
"I don't get jealous," he mumbled against your shoulder, his voice muffled. "I'm not that guy, sweetheart."
"You're literally that guy right now, my love."
"I'm never that guy."
"You're being that guy, darling."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't, pretty boy."
He sighed. His arms tightened around you. "...I really don't, baby. I really, really don't."
Later, when you got home, Satoru was quiet.
Not the bad kind of quiet — not the distant, unreachable kind that made you feel like he was a thousand miles away even when he was right next to you. Just... thoughtful. Introspective. His hand found yours on the couch, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm while he stared at the ceiling.
"You know I trust you, right, sweetheart?" he said finally, his voice soft.
You turned to look at him. His blindfold was off now — just his eyes, soft and blue in the dim lamplight, reflecting something vulnerable. Something honest. He looked young like this. Unprotected.
"I know, Satoru," you said.
"It's not that I don't trust you, baby." He paused, searching for the right words. "I just... I don't trust them. I don't like the way they look at you, my love. Like you're something to be... taken. Like I'm not standing right there. Like you're not mine."
"Satoru—"
"I know it's not rational." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just a hollow, self-deprecating sound. "I know I'm being stupid, princess. I'm Gojo Satoru. I'm not supposed to feel... threatened. By anyone. I'm the strongest. I've faced down curses that would make grown men weep. But when I see someone touch you — when I see someone look at you like they have a chance—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "I want to remind them that you're mine. And I hate that, pretty girl. Because you're not mine. You're your own person. You can talk to whoever you want. You can let whoever touch—"
"Satoru."
He looked at you.
You leaned over and kissed him. Soft. Slow. Deliberate. You poured every ounce of reassurance you had into that kiss, and you felt him exhale against your lips, felt his shoulders drop, felt his hand come up to cup your cheek like you were something precious.
"I am yours, baby," you said against his lips. "I'm yours and I'm my own person. Both things can be true at the same time."
He stared at you for a long moment — at your eyes, your lips, the small smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Then his shoulders relaxed completely, and he pulled you into his lap, burying his face in the curve of your neck.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he mumbled against your skin. "For being weird tonight. For being jealous. For dragging you away like a caveman."
"You weren't weird, my love. You were... cute."
"Cute?"
"Jealous you is very cute, darling."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, one eyebrow raised. "I'm never being jealous again, princess. I'm above it."
"Sure you won't, baby."
"I won't. I'm the strongest. I don't get jealous."
"Mmhmm."
"I'm serious, sweetheart."
"The strongest jealous boyfriend."
He groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. "I'm leaving you."
"You're not going anywhere, pretty boy."
He sighed. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until your chest was pressed against his and you could feel his heartbeat, steady and warm. "You're right, baby. I'm not."
The next time it happened, you were at a small café down the street from your shared apartment.
It was a Saturday morning, the sun was golden through the windows, and you'd just wanted a quiet coffee before heading back to curl up on the couch with Satoru. Nothing fancy. Nothing worth noting.
Except the barista was cute.
You noticed — because you had eyes, not because you were interested. He was tall, lanky, with kind brown eyes and a friendly smile. The kind of guy who probably had a dog and went on hikes and remembered people's orders.
"One oat milk latte," he said, sliding the cup across the counter. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, his smile widening. "It's on the house today. For the pretty customer."
You laughed politely, reaching for your wallet. "Oh, thank you, but I can pay—"
"She said she can pay."
Satoru's voice came from directly behind you, smooth as silk and cold as ice. His hand appeared on your lower back — firm, possessive, deliberate — and he stepped up beside you, towering over the counter like a warning sign.
The barista's smile faltered. "Oh, I didn't realize—"
"Clearly." Satoru's smile was razor-sharp. "Thanks for the coffee. Very generous. We'll be going now, baby."
He took the cup from the counter, wrapped his other arm around your waist, and guided you out of the café before you could even process what had happened.
The door swung shut behind you. The morning air was cool on your flushed cheeks.
"Satoru," you said, turning to face him. "Did you just... jealous-interrupt me again?"
"No, baby."
"You did. You totally did, my love."
"I was being efficient, sweetheart. He was wasting your time."
"He was being nice, Satoru."
"He was being flirty, pretty girl. There's a very big difference."
You stared at him — at his red ears, his stubborn jaw, the way he was holding your coffee like a trophy. He stared back, unblinking, refusing to admit defeat.
"You're impossible, darling," you said finally.
"You've mentioned that before, princess."
"I'm dating a toddler."
"You're dating the strongest sorcerer in the world, actually."
"You're a jealous toddler, baby."
"I am not—" He stopped. Took a breath. Ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Okay, sweetheart. Fine. Maybe I'm a little jealous."
"Maybe?"
"...A lot jealous, my love. I'm a lot jealous. Are you happy now?"
You smiled — wide and bright and full of affection — and reached up to cup his face in your hands. His eyes fluttered shut immediately, his whole body leaning into your touch like a sunflower seeking the sun.
"I'm not going anywhere, Satoru," you said softly. "You don't have to scare off every guy who looks at me, pretty boy."
"I know, baby." He opened his eyes, and they were soft now. Warm. Vulnerable. "But I want to."
"That's not healthy, darling."
"I never claimed to be healthy, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to your palm. "I just claimed to be yours."
You laughed — bright and surprised and so full of love it made your chest ache — and he kissed you right there on the sidewalk, coffee forgotten, the world fading away around you.
"You're ridiculous, Satoru," you whispered against his lips.
"I'm yours, princess," he corrected, his forehead resting against yours. "There's a very big difference."
Later that night — after the café incident, after you'd spent the afternoon curled up on the couch together while watching bad movies, and after Satoru had apologized approximately seventeen more times (you'd stopped counting) — his phone started buzzing.
He glanced at the screen. Rolled his eyes.
"It's Shoko," he said, already reading through the messages. "She's being annoying."
"Nothing new there," you said, leaning over to look.
The group chat was, as always, chaotic.
Satoru's fingers flew across the screen, his expression indignant.
He hesitated for a moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Then, with a dramatic sigh you could hear from across the couch, he typed:
You laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. Satoru shot you a look of betrayal. "You're supposed to be on my side," he complained.
"I'm on no one's side," you said sweetly. "I'm an agent of chaos."
He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "traitor" before turning back to his phone.
You watched his thumbs hover again. He was typing, deleting, typing again.
Satoru stared at his phone for a long moment. His ears were turning pink again. You could see him trying to come up with a comeback.
He failed.
You burst out laughing — actually laughing, the kind that made your stomach hurt and your eyes water. Satoru tossed his phone onto the couch cushion beside him and flopped backward with a dramatic groan.
"They're the worst," he declared, staring at the ceiling.
"You love them," you said, still giggling.
"I tolerate them. Barely."
"You literally just said you don't hate Shoko."
"Don't quote me at me."
You grinned, crawling over to curl up against his side. His arm came around you automatically, pulling you close like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You're cute when you're flustered," you said.
"I'm never flustered."
"Your ears are red."
"The room is warm."
"It's November."
"The heater is warm."
You reached up and tugged gently at his earlobe. He swatted your hand away, but he was smiling — that soft, private smile he only let you see.
"I love you, you know," he said quietly.
"I know, baby."
"Say it back."
"I love you too, Satoru. Even when you're a jealous mess."
"I'm not a jealous mess."
"Your phone says otherwise."
He groaned, burying his face in your hair. "I'm never looking at that group chat again."
"Sure you won't, pretty boy."
"…I really hate you sometimes."
"No, you don't."
He sighed, his arms tightening around you. "…No, I don't."
That night, you were lying in bed, half-asleep, the sheets tangled around your legs and Satoru's arm draped across your stomach. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the city outside the window, and everything was quiet and warm and safe.
"Hey, baby," he whispered.
"Mm, Satoru?" you mumbled, barely conscious.
"I'm sorry. For being... like that tonight. At the café."
You opened your eyes, blinking in the darkness. He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at you. His hair was a complete disaster — flattened on one side, sticking up on the other — and his eyes were soft in the dim light. He looked adorable like this. Unprotected. Yours.
"Like what, my love?" you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.
"Jealous. Possessive. Weird." He paused, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. "I've never been like this before, sweetheart. With anyone. I've never cared enough to be."
You reached up and brushed his white hair back from his forehead, your fingers trailing down to trace the line of his jaw. He leaned into your touch like a cat seeking warmth, his eyes fluttering half-closed.
"I know, Satoru," you said softly.
"I don't like it, princess. Feeling like I could lose you. Even when I know I won't." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "It makes me act... not like myself, pretty girl."
"Maybe this is yourself, darling," you said, your thumb brushing across his cheekbone. "Maybe you've just never cared enough about anyone to feel it before. Maybe jealousy isn't weakness, Satoru. Maybe it just means you love me."
He was quiet for a long moment. His eyes searched yours in the darkness, looking for something — reassurance, maybe. Or permission.
"That's... actually really insightful, baby," he said finally.
"I have my moments, my love."
He smiled — that soft, private smile he only gave you in moments like this, when the world was asleep and nothing existed except the two of you — and leaned down to kiss you. Slow. Sweet. Full of everything he couldn't say out loud.
"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered against your lips.
"I know, pretty boy."
"Say it back, princess."
"I love you too, Satoru. More than all the baristas in the world."
He laughed — a real laugh, warm and surprised — and buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.
"I'm still going to glare at anyone who touches you, baby," he mumbled into your skin.
"I would expect nothing less, my love."
"And I'm not sorry about the Kyoto assistant."
"I know you're not, darling."
"Or the barista."
"Definitely not the barista."
"And if anyone ever puts their hand on your back again, sweetheart —"
"Satoru."
"—I'm not saying I'll do anything violent. I'm just saying I might, pretty girl."
You laughed, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you, and pressed a kiss to the top of his messy white head.
"Go to sleep, Satoru," you murmured.
"Can't, baby."
"Why not, my love?"
"Too busy being jealous of your dreams, princess."
"My dreams, darling?"
"You might dream about someone else, sweetheart. Someone with better hair."
"No one has better hair than you, pretty boy."
"That's true." He paused, pulling back just enough to look at you. "Wait. Was that a compliment, baby?"
"Go to sleep, Satoru."
"...I love you, my love."
"I love you too, darling."
"More than the barista?"
"Satoru."
"I'm just asking, sweetheart!"
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. And when you felt his breathing even out a few minutes later, his arms still wrapped around you like he was afraid you'd disappear, you pressed another kiss to his forehead and held on just as tight.
Jealous Gojo was a lot.
But he was your jealous Gojo.
And you wouldn't have him any other way.
A/N. if you can't tell, i am NOT talented at writing jealousy, so i hope you guys still enjoyed this!! 😭
next up: sick gojo.. or maybe a cooking disaster?.. 🧐
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
every time i visit my wife at work, i fall a little more in love <3 1,086 words!
ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
hiromi’s excited. the new suit he ordered was a size to small. now some might say get a refund, or return it in for the correct size. but not for hiromi.
this accident gives him an excuse to go bug love on his wife at her work. he’s on his way to go see you, when he walks to the train station, there’s a clear pep in his step.
you however are busy helping a client. an older woman whose dress had ripped in three different spots. she said her grandchildren had gotten ahold of the dress, and wanted to make it “stylish.”
you don’t mind though, because the kind woman even brought the original design for the dress, making it easier to fix it.
the woman is chatting to you, about her husband. she says he’s always ignoring her and constantly drinking. you feel bad for the woman, no one should feel overlooked.
the doors bell rings, announcing someone has entered. you don’t look up, focused on not only the woman’s dress, but her feelings on her husband.
the older woman has her shoulder tapped on, she looks behind her to find a man. he’s tall with dark hair and tired eyes.
be gives the woman a small smile, “is this the line to talk to the pretty tailor?”
the woman gasps, “oh my!”
you look up, it’s your husband. “hi hon,” you smile at him, causing him to tilt his head, “what are you doing here?”
he brings a suit in front of him to see, careful not to hit the older woman with it.
“size to big.”
you raise an eyebrow, “you didn’t want to return it?”
he laughs shyly, “well, this gives me an excuse to visit my gorgeous wife.”
you shake your head at his corny response, while the elder woman giggles. “young lady you didn’t tell me you were married as well! and here i was complaining about my husband when i could have been hearing about this charming young man!”
your cheeks warm at the attention, “i really don’t mind hearing you talk miss kiyoko.”
“my wife is too quiet sometimes. even at home she’d rather hear me talk. although, if i’m being honest, hearing her is the highlight of my day.”
miss kiyoko awes at the confession, “why couldn’t i have met someone like you when i was your age?! i wouldn’t be stuck with my deadbeat husband!”
hiromi furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “may i ask why you’re still with him ma’am?”
the woman doesn’t say anything, she looks like the question confuses her. hiromi thinks he might’ve offended the woman.
before he can apologize, “i’m still with him because he’s the only constant in my life. yes i have my kids and grandkids, but i’ve known my husband for sixty seven years. if i’m being honest, if i left him, i don’t think i could ever truly be myself.”
and honestly, that scares hiromi. what if one day you feel to co-dependent to leave him? you only feel obligated to stay with fun for the sake of “being yourself”. he starts to sweat a little, he’d rather die than make you feel that way.
you must know what he’s thinking, because you’re looking right at him. your face shows nothing, i mean, you normally don’t, but right now it’s scaring him.
but then, his fear fades whenever you shake your head. assuring him that, no, you don’t ever feel that way with him. he feels like he can relax a bit, he’ll have to talk to you whenever you guys get home.
“ahh, but enough about me, while we wait for my dress to finish, tell me something. tell me all the details about the two of you.”
“how nosey miss kiyoko.”
she looks your way and slaps the top of your head gently, “i liked it better when you just listened!”
you laugh at the theatrics of the woman. “what do you want to know miss kiyoko?” you ask.
she thinks about it, looking at hiromi, “how did the two of you meet? and when should i expect to see you pregnant.”
hiromi flushes at the woman, cheeks red. you shake your head, laughing, “nosey AND invasive miss kiyoko. do i need to kick you out?”
miss kiyoko rolls her eyes, “don’t be coy,” she says your name, “you talk about kids all the time. i just didn’t know you had a husband who could do that for you.”
rolling your eyes, laughing at the woman, “we met when he was in law school and i was working part time as a librarian in the school.”
hiromi smiles at the reminder, “don’t water our meeting down hon. tell her the truth.”
you feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment. when you were younger, you were a lot more outspoken and loud. you still speak out when needed, but you more or less keep to yourself.
hiromi keeps on, “she was working when she saw me studying. she came up to me and demanded i give her my number. when i asked why i would do that, she told me that she liked my face and would be a crime to not to go out with her. claiming, ‘a lawyer committing a crime won’t look good for clients.’ i knew it then i wanted her in my life.”
miss kiyoko is so tickled at the news. she just laughs and pats your head while you look down in embarrassment.
hiromi on the other hand, is proud. he’s proud to be your husband. spending the rest of his life with you is the only thing that matters to him. he watches as miss kiyoko teases you, he smiles as you retaliate her teasing, ‘i’m going to rip this dress!’ you threaten. miss kiyoko scolds her finger at you, ‘we’ve known each other for years and you kept everything interesting a secret!’
he laughs at your offended face.
that night, hiromi confronts you.
the two of you are lying down together, him holding you in his arms.
“i don’t ever want you to feel scared to leave me.” he whispers while you’re on the verge of sleep.
“huh?”
“it’s just that miss kiyoko won’t leave her husband of fear of not being herself. i don’t want to become her husband, and i don’t want you to become her.”
you look at hiromi, whose already looking at you.
you laugh, pecking his lips.
“you are so cute!”
“i’m being serious!”
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
a/n: i’m thinking of writing yuji take care of sweet girl next for my nanami piece but idk yet 💔 thank you for reading, i love you (. .*)β
[𝝑𝑒] :: calling true form!sukuna by a nickname for the first time :: tags. fluff, sfw.
“ryo,” it rolls off your tongue naturally. as if you’ve called him that thousands of times before. you don’t realise it until he suddenly stops in his tracks.
sukuna narrows his eyes. you turn your head and look up, oblivious to your slip-up. the sorcerer doesn’t utter a word and instead glares down at your short frame. he looks irritated, or more annoyed.
“oh,” you realise why only a few seconds after.
you bow your head at him and try to explain yourself in a hurry. normally, you’d address him with respect like everyone else does. ‘my lord’, ‘lord sukuna’, or even ‘master’.
you nearly fall to your knees. you don’t know how or what sukuna’s going to do now that you’ve dropped the honorifics on accident and called him by a nickname.
you hold your hands together, “my deepest apologi—“
“again,” sukuna demands in a rough voice.
you freeze for a second before tilting your head back. you catch a glimpse of his expression; he’s amused, intrigued and perhaps still a bit annoyed. he repeats, “call me that again.”
sukuna isn’t annoyed by the fact that you’ve called him by a nickname for the first time. he’s annoyed, because your sweet voice makes him feel stuff he’s sworn to never feel for a regular human.
that warm feeling in his chest. . . he hates it. yet he yearns for it. from you.
you hesitate for a second, unsure if the firm tone in sukuna’s voice was a bad sign or not. you decide to just comply and hope for the best, “. . . ryo.”
sukuna grits his teeth. you think he’s mad, but in reality, he’s trying to eliminate the feelings of love from within him. your voice calling him so affectionately—so intimately; it makes him feel that warmth in his chest.
no one’s dared to call him anything like that before. everyone’s formal with him. it’s a must. sukuna’s used to everyone acknowledging his superiority in the conversations he holds. it’s a given.
no one refers to him so casually. no one dares to.
you’re the first one to break that pattern. the first one to make sukuna’s cold heart tremble. if it were anyone else, they’d be his dinner by now. but it’s you so it’s. . . fine, he assumes. an exception.
silence falls in the hallway. luckily, not another soul is around to witness the king of curses struggling to contain his own ‘foolish’ emotions.
sukuna clicks his tongue and sighs before continuing to walk ahead of you.
you scurry after him—keeping your head low. you don’t wish to upset him any further. you feel like you overstepped a boundary just now.
the silence continues for a couple seconds, both of you deep in thought.
sukuna’s the one to end the quiet atmosphere. his voice is as deep and cold as ever, though there’s no denying the subtle softness that creeps in whenever he talks with you.
he takes a deep breath and sighs. he keeps walking and doesn’t spare you a glance, however his words say enough;
“from now on, that’s the only way you’ll address me until i say otherwise, understood?”
ꨄ︎ toji and creative!reader who makes him something to keep him company on his missions.
.ᐟ cw. none , purely fluff , requested by anon.
toji's collection of belongings has grown drastically more diverse since he begun dating you; from his numerous matching bracelets and necklaces, to even some of his sweatshirts and socks that have been graciously crafted by your gifted hands.
you've always been one to have multiple hobbies and outlets to pour your creativity into and toji's more than happy to accept any gifts you place into his hands, hell, he doesn't even need to waste any of his cash on overpriced dishware when he has you making weekly coffee mugs and bowls simply for the satisfaction of stimulating your hands.
his favorite trinket, however, is something special you gifted him just for his missions.
the cold night air whips against toji's face as he sits on the rooftop of some building in shibuya, impatiently waiting for the time to pass on so his damn target just pull up already and he can get all this over with to come back home to you.
he's digging in his dufflebag for something to eat when his hand brushes against it and a small smile subconsciously creeps onto his scarred lips as he pulls it out, your words echoing in his mind as he turns it over in his hand.
"look, now you won't get lonely when you leave. i even made one of you too so i can have my own~"
the gift is a miniature plush, crotched version of you, same skin tone, hair colour, favourite dress and everything, and toji can't help the warm feeling that swirls in his chest as he looks down at mini-you's adorable smiling face.
it's moments like these when he remembers what he's even going on missions for; so that he can buy you that pretty ring he saw saved in your pinterest and that perfect house you'll be able to fill all of your creations to the brim with.
he places the doll onto the brick wall and takes a picture with his phone, letting out a content sigh as he sends you a quick message.
toji<3: [1 image attachment] my pretty girl making sure i get home safe ❤︎
heian!sukuna and a daughter that’s a one on one replica of you that just lost her doll. (drabble)
can be taken as a continuation of this, sfw, sukuna loves the two of you and it shows, fluff, once again highk ooc but cmon.
understanding children is exhausting.
one second, they run around in the room giggling out of their minds, the next cries as they realize their favorite something is missing. and that’s going on with sukuna’s daughter right now, the echoes of crying overcame the estate as an ominous aura filled the air. “find her doll.” his voice stern, as the servants scurried their way into spaces, even the tiniest corner to find the missing doll.
the child clutched onto her dad, her little arms held to him tight. pouting slightly as tears was pricked on her eyes. “mhpmm…” she whined once more as the servants was terrified of their lives. “don’t cry.” his voice was not soft nor was it stern, just flat with a hint of concern. “daddyy.. dollie!” the child pout intensified as she looks up to him with that big doe eyes. “find the—“ his voice was almost annoyed now towards the ‘unproductivity’ of the servant. “wahh! daddy don’t yell at them!” she cuts him off immediately after she heard the raised voice.
“..” the man was silenced as he just gave them the look of find it as soon as possible if they value their life. but as time went on, the servants are almost hopeless and just praying to the above that some mercy would be spared; and thankfully, their prayers was answered. “‘kuna, is (daughter nickname) with you?” the soft voice of the kind lady came. “she forgot her doll in the gazebo.” upon hearing that revelation, the child scurried out of the grasp of her father and ran to her. “mommy!! dollie!!” she ran to you and hugged onto her thigh, where you picked her up; the hand holding the doll was snatched to her hands.
and you could hear the relief of the servants as you dismissed them off, your husband coming up to you. “i’ll remove that gazebo at once.” you blinked at him, “uh, why?” you were confused as your daughter shook her head no. “no daddy! bad!” she said as if her father is a child. “well if you both don’t agree, then it stays.” he made the decision at once. “although the path is a little unstable, i tripped there going to the gazebo for her doll.” when she revealed that however, he simply nodded.
the next day, the path was completely destroyed and remade.
the pinkish sun lights your path as you trudge downstairs and toward the kitchen.
looking too put together for six in the morning, zayne stands at the counter, sipping water and going through yesterday’s mail.
as always, there’s majesty in his simplicity. so much that you nearly trip on the very last step, entranced by the subtle flex of his forearms. you’ve been together for months now, yes, but you’ll never get used to this view.
his gaze is already on you before your almost-tumble. the only change is, your misstep brings a ghost of a smile to his lips. “good morning,” he greets, reaching out to steady you. but you keep stumbling past his outstretched arm.
for a moment, he questions if you’re sleepwalking—before you fall forward and thunk your head into his chest. “morninf,” you mumble.
wobbling from the impact, zayne recovers quickly and gently peels you off of him. “is something wrong?”
“no.” you try to dive back in, but you’re halted by an impromptu examination. he feels your forehead, checks your lymph nodes, and puts a hand over your heart. at first, you think he’s only toying with you. but when he moves to inspect your nostrils next, you cut the checkup short with a scandalized grunt.
“are you sure you’re alright? you can hardly walk straight.” his eyes narrow slightly. “and before you say that i’m to blame, that was every bit what you asked for last night.”
“stop,” you groan. like a magnet, the crown of your head finds its way back to his chest. “i’m fine. i saw a video of a cat headbutting its owner and thought it was cute. it’s how they show affection. i wanted to try it, but you keep getting in my way.”
repositioning yourself, you settle over his quickening heartbeat. his pectorals freeze against your forehead before finally relaxing, and he gives in with a chuckle.
“i see. in that case, it’s only right that i return the gesture.” zayne curls one hand around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer. with his other, he cups your cheek gently, warmth from his large palm flowing into your skin. when he leans forward, you can’t help but close your eyes in anticipation.
a force you can only compare to a heavyweight bowling ball knocks into your skull. the thunk sound echoes through the kitchen.
suppressing a yelp, you rear backwards and try to blink the dizziness away. on the counter, the water in his glass ripples from the aftershocks.
the human hardhat in front of you looks pleased with himself—until he sees the grimace on your face, that is. confused caution turns his pink cheeks a deeper red. “is that how cats do it?”
“uh-huh,” you lie. “that was great. it’s just…i’m glad a brain as brilliant as yours is under such elite protection.”
he furrows his eyebrows. “what do you mean?”
rubbing the knot forming on your skin, you touch a finger to his skull. “your head is so hard.”
you insisted on going to the horror movie night with your new boyfriend, sukuna, after overhearing his idiot frat brothers whispering about you.
“she’s really soft.”
“i've never seen ryo with a girl like her.”
“watch her piss herself at the first jumpscare.”
laughter all around.
and maybe it was stupid, but you wanted to prove them wrong. prove you could handle the same things as the girls he usually kept around. cool girls. confident girls. mature girls who didn’t cling to their boyfriend’s sleeve every five minutes.
so you sat beside sukuna and in that freezing theater, chin lifted stubbornly, pretending your stomach wasn’t already twisting from the opening music alone.
for the first thirty minutes, you held it together.
barely.
you got by closing your eyes at the scarier parts and subtly whispering to sukuna to tell you when it was over.
then the movie hit you with the most horrific, satan-spawned jumpscare imaginable.
you shrieked so loud the entire row flinched.
your hand jerked violently.
and your ice cream launched directly into satoru gojo's face.
silence.
then satoru yelling, “WHAT THE HELLY?”
suguru and toji snickered.
and suddenly you were crying.
partly because you’d just assaulted sukuna's friend with matcha soft serve after you'd spent a whole minute outside the theatre convincing all of them you weren't scared in the slightest before you'd gone in.
partly because that was some really good ice cream you'd just wasted.
partly because everyone was staring.
but mostly because that movie was fucking terrifying.
sukuna immediately grabbed your wrist and stood up. “aight, we’re leaving.”
you hid your face in his arm while his friends snickered behind you. humiliation burned hot in your chest as he guided you out of the theater, your legs still shaky.
outside, the cold night air hit your cheeks.
“sorry…” you mumbled miserably.
sukuna snorted. “it's fine, baby. gojo deserved it, he was being an asshole."
you whined, covering your face. "i wasn't talking about that!"
he laughed under his breath, but there wasn’t an ounce of cruelty in it. just amusement. then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, “i’ll take you home, yeah?”
you sniffled and nodded. “that was scary.”
“i know, babe. i'm sorry,” he opened the passenger door for you, buckling your seatbelt himself with surprising gentleness. “should’ve known that shit would freak you out.”
“it was my idea…” you hiccuped.
“i still shoulda said no.” he shut the door and rounded the hood of the car.
the few seconds you sat alone were awful. your eyes immediately darted to the rearview mirror. the backseat looked way too dark. you stared at it, fully convinced some horrifying demon woman was about to crawl over the seats and kill you.
the driver door opened and sukuna slid in and caught you staring.
“…you looking at your little friend back there?”
you gasped, “kuna, don’t SAY that!”
he barked out a laugh while starting the engine. “you want another ice cream?”
your watery eyes widened hopefully. “…yeah.”
“thought so.”
by the time you reached your apartment complex, you were clutching a drive-thru soft serve with both hands while sukuna walked beside you toward your door.
you were finally calm again.
until he kissed your forehead, patted your ass lightly, and turned away. “see you tomorrow, babe.”
terror immediately flooded your face. you grabbed his arm so fast he almost stumbled back.
he looked down at you with a blink. then sighed. “…should’ve expected that.”
your eyes welled up again. “y-you’re leaving?”
“nah.” he unlocked your apartment and walked in beside you. “just wanted to see your face.” sukuna lied smoothly.
you blinked. “…oh.”
“cute reaction though.”
you huffed at him before setting your ice cream on the counter. “um… i need to pee.”
“okay?” he said, lifting a questioning brow, not quite sure what this has to do with him.
you awkwardly twisted your fingers together before looking up at him nervously.
a beat passed.
then sukuna sighed the sigh of a man accepting his fate.
a minute later, he was inside your bathroom aggressively yanking the shower curtain open .checking the cabinets. looking behind the door.
“there.” he deadpanned. “no demons.”
you stood in the doorway anxiously. “is it safe?”
“yes.”
“…promise?”
“baby, if something attacks you while you piss, i’ll personally beat its ass.”
you considered that seriously.
“…okay.”
you stepped inside cautiously.
“stand by the door.”
“stand by the—” he repeated in disbelief, before he stopped himself with a long exhale. “fine.”
“and turn around.”
“baby, i’ve literally seen you naked—”
“TURN AROUND.”
“bossy as hell,” he muttered, turning around anyway.
“and cover your ears.”
he stared at you over his shoulder in disbelief. “why?”
"i don't want you hearing me pee!"
sukuna sighed slowly. then lifted too resigned hands to his ears.
“not all the way though,” you continued nervously, “or you won’t hear me scream.”
sukuna closed his eyes and covered his ears, “that all, princess?”
“mhm!” you chirped brightly, kissing his cheek. “thanks honey. you’re sooo brave.”
he looked up at the ceiling like he was asking the universe for strength.
Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend
“Whiskey,” Sukuna said, dropping into his usual stool, the seat with the best view of you while you worked. “The expensive one please.”
“You don’t tip enough for the expensive one,” you teased.
A low laugh rumbled from him. “There she is.”
The bar was quieter tonight; rain against the windows, old rock humming from the speakers, neon signs buzzing dimly overhead. The kind of night that dragged exhaustion into your bones.
Sukuna watched you the whole time. He wasn’t subtle about it either.
“You look annoyed sweetheart,” he said.
“I’m working, so duh.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
You slid the drink toward him. “Maybe drink instead of psychoanalyzing me.”
He took a sip without breaking eye contact.
“Boyfriend piss you off again?”
Your jaw tightened for half a second and that smug bastard noticed.
“Mm.” He leaned back on the stool. “So that’s a yes.”
“He forgot to pick me up after my shift yesterday.” You regretted saying it immediately.
Sukuna snorted. “Again?”
“He was busy,” you broke eye contact knowing Sukuna can read you like a book.
“Let me guess; he was drunk or out partyin.”
Silence.
Because he was.
You started wiping down an already clean section of the counter just to avoid answering the question.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly, tattoos shifting against his sharp cheekbones as he studied you.
“You make excuses for him a lot.”
“Yeah… sometimes that’s what it’s like being in a relationship, also you don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.” Another sip. “Saw him in here last week hanging off some blonde in a red dress.”
Your stomach twisted. “He wasn’t—”
“He was.”
You hated that he noticed everything. Hated that some reckless little part of you liked being noticed by him, that it felt like he cared.
“You know,” he continued casually, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “if I had my girl waiting for me after her long shitty shift, I wouldn’t forget her…definitely not if it was you.”
Your hands paused. “Sukuna—”
“No, really.” He leaned forward now, elbows resting on the counter. “I’m trying to figure out what exactly this idiot offers that’s worth all this disappointment.”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
Heat crawled up your neck. He grinned slowly when he noticed.
God, that grin was dangerous.
“You work double shifts,” he continued. “You remember his birthday, your anniversary, probably his coffee order too.” His eyes dragged over you lazily. “Meanwhile he can’t stay sober long enough to pick you up on time.”
“You’re drunk right now.”
“I barely finished my first drink…but even drunk I could never forget such a pretty face.”
That shouldn’t have affected you.
But then he reached across the counter — slow enough for you to pull away if you wanted — and placed his hand over yours.
The touch felt unfairly warm.
“I’m serious,” Sukuna murmured. “You keep wasting yourself on men who don’t know what to do with you.”
Your breath caught. His thumb brushed against your pulse.
“I would.”
Your breath hitched, and you pulled your hand away slightly; shocked by Sukuna’s confession.
“Think about it sweetheart,” he said tapping your hand lightly before pulling away to pay for his drink.
the party was loud with flashing lights and people swaying back and forth. you were standing with a couple friends, moving to the music casually as they talked. you couldn't really hear them so you just kept dancing.
not even a second later, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a broad chest against your back.
"people are staring." the person whispered. his breath caressed your cheeks softly. his arm pulled you closer as if to show everyone that you were his and he wasn't sharing.
sukuna swayed with you side to side, kissing your bare shoulder softly and lovingly. he stayed with you the whole night, even staying through a little gossip session with your friends.
when he got to your house he parked and looked at you. he admired you for a few seconds before pulling you into a sweet kiss.
his hands cupped your jaw as his lips moved on yours for a few seconds.
"i'll pick you up for breakfast at nine. be ready."
you hummed, getting out of the car. he followed after you and walked you up to your door.
"get some rest." he whispered while cupping your cheeks. he kissed your forehead before pulling away.
you smiled and kissed his chin.
"good night, kuna."
he placed a hand on your waist and nudged his nose with yours.
"good night, beautiful."
you smiled one last time before unlocking your door and walking in, but before you closed the door you looked at him.
"i love you, sukunatuna."
you closed to the door quickly, but you still heard him mumble a quiet 'don't call me that.'
you walked to your room and threw everything on the bed. you took your heels off your burning feet and laid down.
your phone buzzed next to you.
ryomensoldier : i love you too 🫦
ryomensoldier : wait
ryomensoldier : wrong emoji
ryomensoldier : 🩷
ryomensoldier : its pink like my hair
you : go home kuna
ryomensoldier : fine goodnight 🫦
ryomensoldier : stupid emojis
୧ ‧₊˚ 𝐂𝐄𝐎 𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 and his pretty secretary... or fiancé..? ⋅ ✰
everyone thinks gojo satoru, heir to japan’s largest corporation, is impossible to tie down. Cold, arrogant, and rumored to have a different woman on his arm every week. so when he suddenly announces that his overworked secretary is actually his fiancée, the entire company is left stunned.
art by yunonoai. i recreated the purple divider above this. please tag me if u use it ♡ other dividers by cheriisoda and pixopix
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who treats the entire office like his personal kingdom. People straighten up the second they hear his shoes clicking down the hallway, but somehow he always seems especially irritating with you. He drops folders onto your desk with a lazy, “Need this done before lunch,” then disappears before you can argue.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who is annoyingly perfect at his job. Cold, efficient, untouchable. Even when you’re furious at him, you can’t deny he’s good at what he does, which only makes your resentment worse because he clearly knows it too.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose office smells expensive. Crisp cologne, coffee, and the faint scent of whatever luxury detergent rich people use. You hate that you associate the smell with long nights spent working overtime because of him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who doesn’t flirt with you at first. That’s the problem. He flirts with everyone else. Receptionists giggle when he walks by, executives’ daughters practically throw themselves at him during company dinners, and gossip spreads about whatever model or actress was spotted leaving his penthouse that week.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who makes you stay late constantly, then has the nerve to look confused when you snap at him one night and tell him you actually have a life outside this company.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts unconsciously relying on you for everything. His coffee order. His schedule. Which tie matches which suit. He’ll bark, “Where’s my blue file?” across the office before remembering other employees exist.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose grandfather absolutely adores you because you’re the only employee who doesn’t kiss his grandson’s ass. The old man laughs every single time you glare at Gojo during meetings.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who accidentally blurts out that you’re his fiancée during a family dinner because he panics after hearing the words arranged marriage for the tenth time that night.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who immediately turns to you afterward like you’re the unreasonable one for looking horrified.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who says, “Just play along for a little while,” as if he didn’t just ruin your entire life in front of a room full of billionaires.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose family becomes obsessed with you overnight. Suddenly flowers are arriving at your desk. His grandmother wants your ring size. His grandfather keeps asking when the wedding is.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who offers you an absurd amount of money to keep pretending to be engaged to him, and gets offended when you tell him he’s insufferable enough that no amount of money feels worth it.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts acting weirdly protective once the fake engagement begins. If another executive talks down to you during meetings, Gojo cuts them off with an icy smile that makes the entire room tense.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who insists on driving you home after late nights because “my fiancée taking the subway at midnight looks bad for me.”
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who absolutely cannot act normal during fake couple moments. He’s smooth with everyone else, but with you there’s this strange stiffness to him sometimes, like he’s overthinking every little thing.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who stares at you for half a second too long the first time you fix his tie before an event. His ears go slightly pink, and he immediately gets mean afterward to compensate.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who learns your habits embarrassingly quickly. He knows exactly how you take your coffee, which snacks disappear first from the office vending machine, and when you’re about to get a stress headache before you even say anything.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who keeps accidentally slipping into domestic behavior. Holding doors open for you automatically. Saving you a seat during meetings. Texting you when he gets home after business trips without realizing how boyfriend-ish it sounds.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who gets irrationally annoyed whenever someone calls you by your last name instead of “Mrs. Gojo” during fake engagement events.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has a massive penthouse that somehow still feels lonely. The first time you go there for contract-related fake dating reasons, you realize how empty it actually is despite all the expensive furniture.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who secretly likes when you yell at him because everyone else is too intimidated to do it. You call him an arrogant asshole to his face and he just stares at you with this weirdly entertained look.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who is horrible at receiving care. If he gets sick from overworking, he insists he’s fine while looking seconds away from collapsing at his desk.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts smiling more around the office after the fake engagement begins, and everyone notices immediately. Unfortunately for you, this leads to endless teasing from coworkers asking if you’ve “finally tamed” him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who’s terrifyingly good at physical affection in public. His arm around your waist feels natural. His thumb rubbing circles against your hand during family dinners feels natural. Which is a problem, because none of it should feel real.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has absolutely zero actual relationship experience despite his reputation. You assume he’s some experienced playboy because of rumors and tabloid gossip, meanwhile he’s internally fighting for his life every time you get too close to him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who one day realizes he’s started thinking of you as his real fiancée long before either of you have actually talked about feelings.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who shows up one morning and finds you asleep at your desk because you stayed up helping your parents with the family restaurant/store/accounting stuff the night before.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose fridge contains imported water, expensive champagne, and literally nothing else meanwhile your family’s fridge is packed with leftovers, labeled containers, and six different sauces in reused jars.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who cannot comprehend why you refuse to let him buy you expensive things. The first time he casually hands you a designer bag because “you looked at it too long,” you nearly throw it back at his head.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who gets dragged to your neighborhood for the first time and looks hilariously out of place in his luxury suit while old aunties openly gossip about him from across the street.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who’s painfully aware your parents don’t trust him at first. To them he’s just another cold rich man who probably sees their daughter as disposable.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who slowly starts looking forward to dinners at your house because it’s the first time in years someone’s made him feel like part of a family instead of a business asset.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who slowly starts looking forward to dinners at your house because it’s the first time in years someone’s made him feel like part of a family instead of a business asset.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who nearly malfunctions the first time your mom fusses over him and packs him leftovers to take home.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has no idea how normal people function. You once mention waiting for payday before buying something and he genuinely pauses because the concept has literally never applied to him before.
"Funny seeing you here, sweetie." Sylus drawls as he leans over your shoulder from behind. The nickname makes you bristle, though your stomach twists in a sick sense of joy. Your hatred for Sylus had evolved into something you couldn't, or rather wouldn't, name.
"What are you doing here?" You whisper, though your heart pounds as the scent of his cologne envelops you. He hums as if debating answering your question, stepping just close enough that anyone around would likely assume you're a couple.
But...would that be so bad?
It's hard to decide. Even harder when you can feel the heat of his body so close to yours, when his hand brushes yours in a featherlight touch and your heart pounds in your ears.
"I came to say hi." His tone is devoid of it's usual mocking lilt. You finally glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes to study them. He tilts his sunglasses down as if to aid you, clearly hiding nothing.
"You could have called."
"I could have. But this is more rewarding." He smiles for a moment, but it's not in his usual condescending manner. It's almost as if he's...shy?
Does the big bad leader of Onychinus...have a crush on you?
It'd be funny if you didn't feel the same way.
You finally turn to face him, though you make a point to not step back, leaving the non-existent space between your bodies as is. It doesn't go unnoticed, and his smile grows a small fraction.
"There's a nice coffee shop down the street. It's quiet. And peaceful." His brow raises with interest, and his eyes flicker with joy.
Can't believe we've gone from "I don't want the person I like to get hurt" to "I would never let the girl I love be brave on her own" oh Zayne Li you will always be famous
Can I request Xavier x reader where she is worried that her newborn daughter/son doesn’t cry like the other babies and sleep more because of their dad and they are literally copy of him because her genes couldn’t fight his, she knew from the moment she came back from the hospital that her little baby is heavy sleeper but wakes up once they hungry and Xavier is the one who can make them sleep.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier x afab!reader ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluffy fluff! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚oh, to have a tiny copy of xavier's ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ they would be the cutest pair ever, istg. thank you so much for this cute idea, anonnie! ♡
the first time you held your newborn, it was impossible to tell who he'd resemble the most.
he looked like a little raisin, wrinkled up and awkward, holding his tiny hands close to his chest as if wanting to go back inside your belly and rest a little bit more.
it wasn't until the sixth month that both xavier and you realized… the baby was a tiny copy of his father.
sure, he was already a heavy sleeper, but his appearance…?
if someone hadn't seen xavier and the baby in the same room, they would probably think that your husband either shrank or stepped into the fountain of youth.
it was insane.
the baby was pale, with silvery-blonde strands that fell down his forehead, just above his long eyelashes that framed two gorgeous, gigantic, shimmery blue eyes.
okay, rude.
not only did your genes fall asleep while conceiving, but the baby acted exactly like his papa.
he slept for hours, and hours, and hours.
and while other moms hoped their babies could do the same, you were worried.
when would your baby play?
when would you be able to show him new things, to make him laugh, to see him trying to crawl, when all he did was sleep?
you wanted him to cry, to wake you up, to wail because he needed a diaper change, but you'd only hear soft cooing or little babbles whenever he needed something.
xavier told you things would be fine, that your little star would eventually grow up and have more energy, but your heart wasn't at ease.
you feared your baby would miss feeding times, or that he wouldn't get to feel your touch and create a bond with you.
and while you thought the hormones were making you way more susceptible and sensitive, xavier totally understood your worries and tried to calm you down.
“he's healthy, my starlight,” he whispered, gently tracing the little one's nose with his finger as you held him in your arms.
“i know he is, but i… i feel like he's sleeping his life away,” you whispered back, your voice shaky. “he has a lot of things to see, to explore with his tiny hands, yet he only sleeps…”
xavier turned to you, his lips finding your temple.
“he's still very small. babies sleep a lot.”
you hesitated before nodding quietly.
that was true.
“besides, he has a lot of time to grow up and start exploring the world with us. his life has just begun; you won't miss a thing, and neither will he.”
“...you think so?” you sniffled, your gaze meeting his. “we won't miss anything?”
he smiled, shaking his head.
“not a single thing. i promise.”
“okay… okay, yeah,” you smiled, closing your eyes when he leaned in to kiss your cheek this time.
and, true to his word, xavier visibly relaxed when the baby started to stay awake over the next few days, his big eyes staring at the ceiling with wonder.
his little hands would shake softly when he spotted the fluorescent ceiling stars, or when the moonlight cast shadows over his baby crib mobile made out of wooden planets.
he would also perk up when it became feeding time, his appetite resembling his father's. he was like a little bucket with no end, babbling for seconds, and even thirds if your body so allowed it.
when you came in to check on him, he'd stare at you, tracing your nose, your eyes, your lips, and cheeks with his gaze, holding your fingers if they got close to his face, pulling your face close with his tiny palms… all because he loved the scent and softness of his mama.
he'd stare at his father as well, tilting his tiny head, blinking oh so softly so as to not miss anything he did.
xavier would always stare back, fascinated by his baby's mere existence.
it was like looking in a mirror.
the sleeping habits, the endless hunger, even the way the little one would lean against your touch, it all resembled him.
they could both study each other for hours without getting bored or growing accustomed to it, and both their expressions would soften whenever you walked into the room.
two pairs of bright azure eyes always welcomed you with sheer happiness, and two mouths curled up faintly, happy to have you in their lives.
one of them because you're the center of his tiny little world.
the other because you gave him a world for his heart to orbit around.
after an entire day of looking everywhere and taking in the pretty colors, his father would manage to get him to sleep once again, making sure to create a routine so that the baby wouldn't sleep more than necessary or stay awake during the night.
it was easy to take care of his needs, despite the tiny star never crying or wailing about anything, not even when he was hungry.
you'd know he wanted to eat whenever his tummy rumbled, or that he needed a diaper change when xavier's delicate eyes started to water from the smell.
so, in the end, things just worked out, weirdly so, but effectively, almost like when it was just xavi and you.
your baby still had lots of things to do when he grew up, but when he slept and reacted to your touch with a happy little sigh, you knew he was creating a bond and feeling comfortable around you, asleep or not.
he was your baby; he would always be your baby, and neither xavier nor you would miss a single heartbeat of his.
if your little star ended up being a hundred percent like his amazing, loving, and caring father, then everything would be more than fine.~
frat!sukuna, who first insisted that your relationship was strictly sex, nothing more—with some flimsy excuse about how he doesn’t have the time for a relationship, doesn’t have the time to commit to something that serious, and about how a relationship would only drag him down.
so he does what any good friend situationship?would do—he shows up to your place, fucks you until you can’t remember your own name, and leaves before something in his chest convinces him to stay.
frat!sukuna, who has to have you facing him to cum, something about just looking at your face contort in pleasure while you take him in, the way tears rim your eyes while he thrusts into you languidly—he simply can’t bring himself to cum if he isn’t look at you and your pretty face drunk on his cock.
frat!sukuna, who tries to walk out of your apartment the second he’s done with you, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. so he lingers, hovers around your sleeping form until you finally drag him back under your sheets, calling him ridiculous while he presses soft kisses to the back of your neck.
frat!sukuna, who has your drink order memorised to perfection, always leaving your sugary concoction of a drink on your desk before each class begins with a scrawled on note that says ‘don’t get any ideas.’
frat!sukuna, who never denies anything when his frat brothers start calling you his girlfriend—it’s too much work to correct them, he says, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks tinge the same shade as his hair every single time one of them pats him on the back and calls you his girl.
frat!sukuna, who always has to have you close to him, with his arm slug around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist when he’s near you.
“it’s to make sure you don’t run away.”
“now, why would i do that?”
frat!sukuna, who almost decks toji in the face when he sees him flirting with you, his split lip curled into a girl while you laughed at his stupid jokes and for one second, sukuna’s afraid he’s going to lose this, that he’s going to lose you.
frat!sukuna, who starts tiptoeing around the idea of a relationship, insisting he takes you on dates—taking you out to fancy restaurants and late night bike rides when he knows exam stress starts to take over your brain. he’s spent enough time around you to know everything there is to know, but what sukuna doesn’t know is how to handle a relationship.
frat!sukuna, who’s been treating you like his girlfriend since the start, never skipping aftercare, always being there at your every beck and call—and avoiding every girl that had eyes for him like the plague since he met you.
“good god, did she neuter you, kuna?” toji slurred between drinks while sukuna tried to dodge the sorority girls coming his way.
“shut up.”
frat!sukuna, who’s softer during sex now, worshipping your body endlessly, covering you in soft kisses and bites marks before he eats you out like a man starved.
frat!sukuna, who’s basically a guard dog around you, glaring at everyone who so much as shows even mild interest in you, clinging to you like a needy puppy every second of the day that he possibly can.
frat!sukuna, who has words stuck in his throat every single time he tries to ask you out, always stuttering out nonsense he didn’t mean to say because, what if you turn him down? and what if there’s someone better?
frat!sukuna, who gets you a massive bouquet of your favourite flowers, showing up to your apartment in the dead of night, flowers scrunched in his hand, his chest heaving when he finally asks you out.
frat!sukuna, who tries to hide his flustered face when you finally say yes, spinning you around in his arms while he kisses the top of your head—because after all the mental gymnastics he’s done to have you in his arms, he finally gets to call you his girl.
eek.
dividers: @/pixopix .
all works belong to @lilithkleia do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI, lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
