Like they tried to change Reblogs and people rightfully got up in arms, this is a LOT worse. In order to have access to any sort of thing dubbed mature, and We haveALL seen what they think is mature, Everything from a black and white photo of a black woman's arm, to posts about IUD recalls, to a nude painted by a 17th century artist, to anything involving the word Trans; you have to send your personal information to a third party site that WILL get hacked, and you will be doxxed. And they can say "Oh shit, well it wasn't us who sent your name address and gender identity to Moldovan teenagers, here's a couple extra minutes in the ball pit.
That's bad enough!!!!!!!! But the entire idea of needing permission from state authorities to access anything labeled mature by our friendly AI overlords is some fucking Boll shit. Die Gedenken Sind Frie baby. This is all a reaction to people getting uppity about their lowly lowly rights and is being propped up by the same bad actors tht have made life unlivable. Fuck that shit.
"Well it's only being rolled out in Brazil and UK" Yeah, to start. "Well they're being forced to do this by laws." YOu know it's always really funny when these tech giants (Or whatever you call owning tumblr dot com) get really antsy about laws considering they pick and choose which ones they abide by.
This is a breaking point and it's going to be very interesting to see how we proceed from here.
Where's the fucking. The form. The fucking form. Hang on, lemme find it.
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
This! Please fill out this! Select "Feedback" and fill out the form! They won't necessarily be paying attention to us complaining in posts, but they will read these forms!
#they really said “you can’t use wiki as an academic source-use our garbage AI that’s even less reliable”#and you can’t even opt out of it
no but you can FORCE it away. use ublock origin and copy paste the blacklist i made into the filters to be able to remove the bullshit AI overview that google forces. it also removes youtube's forced ads (at least until they fix it)
you can also use the ublacklist extension and use this blacklist of AI image generation websites to curate your google image results
there are ALWAYS ways around stuff. it's just a matter of looking into it and asking around
y’all not ready to talk about how most fanfic writers/readers on here are JUST like the booktok gooners. Writing ridiculous shit about barely legal reader x 30+ year old characters. And yall AGE THEM UP.
i understand having parental issues and all that but this is NOT something we should be romanticizing and normalizing you don’t understand how it absolutely takes up my feed. just like how yall are tearing those middle-aged women apart for sexualizing absolutely ridiculous things, yall should realize you’re part of the problem. there is absolutely NO reason for Nanami to be 42 in that fanfic and for reader to be 20. it adds absolutely nothing to the plot, and romanticizes borderline-predatory relationships. the reader is always cute, shy, virginal, did you stop to think about how strange it is to write that???
if you’re hating on proshippers as someone who writes shit like this look in the mirror. and go to fucking therapy.
sugu w/ crybaby reader was who gets emotional reeeally easy while he's fucking the life out of her n she just wants him to hold her (i think im sick in the head i need him so bad)
“s-sugu —“
“y’cryin honey? ‘s too much f’you huh.” he giggles, pace slowing down a tad. it doesn’t help, the feeling of his intruding cock lingers in the deepest part of your sensitive cunt.
his girth stretches you out greatly, and it had taken nearly an hour of his preparation and 2 prior orgasms to get you where you are now.
you huff, geto’s hand cupping your chin forcing your big doe eyes to stare into his. your eyes glimmer with tears , the apple of your cheeks dewy with sweat and tears. your mouth gapes open slightly from the pressure of the man’s grip on your jaw , completely vunerable under his touch.
“you’re so fuckin’ pretty baby.” he groans , harsh thrusts resuming with his previous pace.
“ah —“ you jolt with surprise, his body pressing on top of yours just close enough to press hot but quick kisses on the fat of your lips.
you’re quick to wrap your arms around the man’s broad shoulders, pulling him in closer to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
soft whimpers fall from your lips followed by moans, still tears cloud your pearly eyes and he notices.
“what’s wrong baby? why’re crying? tell suguru.”
“i— wan’ you to h-hold me sugu . wanna feel you closer..” you hiccup.
and just when you say it, he notices. how your body desperately cages him in, arms wrapped around his shoulder and legs holding your pelvises together tight.
“oh baby. “ he grins, pressing a sloppy kiss onto your lips before enveloping your head into his arms. “y’r too cute .” his chest presses against your plush tits, hot bodies rubbing off on eachother as he nudges himself impossibly deep into your silky cunt .
you squeal , nails clawing at his back at the feeling of his overstimulating cock. “just like that baby. so perfect f’me.” he groans, he thinks he’s going to die.
it makes him dizzy; it’s so intimate , so perfect. you were perfect.
jjk men reactions & aftercare when you use your safeword…
headcanons list
MDNI, highly suggestive content, smut themes, overstimulation, mentions of discomfort/pain, spanking (suguru), etc.
gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna
-> all i could think of when writing safe words was this from that one rick & morty episode please help
satoru gojo:
satoru gojo, before his relationship with you, was a full-fletched virgin.
while people close to him like suguru, before he left jujutsu tech, or shoko would have been able to tell anyone this fact after having known him for so long and so well, in satoru's later years, he finds that everyone assumes he has a rather promiscuous past before settling down with you.
he understands. quite frankly, it doesn't surprise him at all. he's a flirty personality with a sickenly gorgeous face, with the confidence and arrogance of a well-seasoned slut. he does not exude the energy of a person who went twenty-four years of his life without having sex with anyone. he had received and given oral maybe a few times in his early twenties, but he had never gone beyond that.
you're his first at twenty-four and you're his one and only from then one.
despite his lack of physical experience, satoru, unsurprisingly, is incredibly skilled with the use of his body. there's truly nothing that gojo can not do perfectly. he's seen enough, studied the physical reactions you have to him even when you're just speaking, knows you enough to treat you well without having had to fuck a million people beforehand.
and because you are satoru's one and only, he fucking worships you. he gets drunk off of you. he goes insane for you every single time the two of you are together intimately. while his stamina is incredibly high, his desperation proceeds him and his ability to maintain control is drastically lacking whenever he's got your pretty legs quivering over his head as his tongue licks greedy stripes over your puffy clit.
satoru is spoiled. he gets what he wants and does what he wants when he wants it, and he absolutely expects to get exactly what he wants from you when the two of you are in bed, which is to make you as much of a mess for him as he is for you. he wants you shaking, he wants you begging, he wants you crying for more as you struggle to handle just how good he makes you feel, and every single time, he succeeds.
the thought alone of pleasing you renders him dizzy, and his mind often wanders in the middle of meetings when he's supposed to be focused on the course schedule for the first years over the upcoming next few months. satoru is completely and utterly whipped for you, and with his greedy, mindless desire to hear you moaning for him into the early hours of the morning, he can tend to get a little out of hand.
satoru has never made you feel any less than heavenly, any less than adored, any less than cherished. he satisfies you in indescribable ways, and you're admittedly as head over heels for him as he is for you. he's soft, but then he's wild, whiny, relentless, sloppy, yet always so damn good. he pushes you to just the right limits, drawing out physical reactions you hadn't even known to be possible before him, and talking you through it all. though he's always on the brink of going too far, he never has.
so that is why you are close to panicking now that your legs and your throbbing, overstimulated pussy have gone numb with a rather unfamiliar tingling sensation.
you don't even think you can see anymore. you're long past an acceptable point of lack of functionality, and you can't even think. you hear satoru's voice murmuring as it always does, babbling on in his far-gone state as he pulls you closer for another round. the two of you started this when the sun was out, midday, and now, the sky is pitch black and the clock reads almost midnight, not that you can even tell.
you can feel satoru everywhere, hands flying to any patch of skin he can possibly find, yet the sensation is detached from you. you take a few seconds before realizing that you can hardly breathe, and your body is so spent you can barely move.
satoru, above you, is gone. exceedingly pussy drunk, having came more times than he could count in your mouth, on your stomach, on your back, inside your cunt, and yet he still seeks more. it's like his mind and body are on autopilot, searching for you blindly without any indication of how far he has gone or when he should stop. he's just as fucked out in the brain as you, but the only difference is that he somehow has more energy to spare. his dick is somehow still jumping to life, and you suddenly remember that this is satoru gojo you're talking about.
on the battlefield and in bed, he's a monster, unlike any other.
"c'mere, pretty, just-just one more, gotta feel you," he rambles, panting heavily as he tugs you closer and roams his crystal blue eyes over your trembling body. his sense of logic is skewed, the flags are not registering. he only sees you, and he is eager. he's so in love, so intoxicated by you, he's lost his damn mind.
"y'so gorgeous for me, baby, such a good pretty girl. my good pretty girl. love this pretty girl's pussy, so-so good for me. so good."
and there he goes, on and on about how he wants you, what you do to him, how perfect you are, and you can't even hear it. your ears are ringing. where the hell even are you?
satoru's moving to caress over your body, detailing the softness of your soaked skin beneath his palms before his hands meet your soaked cunt again. he's prying at your weak thighs, ghosting his fingers over your clit hungrily, and the second you feel the tip of his finger so much as graze your bundle of nerves, you're momentarily revived. you're gasping and pushing him away, crawling back.
satoru watches you, brows drawing together. he goes to reach for you again, but then you hastily breathe out. "purple! purple, purple, purple," you wail, body twitching as you curl in on yourself.
the moment your safeword falls on satoru's ears, he's snapping out of it. his blown pupils suddenly shrink and he reconnects with the world around him, with you, the way your heart races, the way you can hardly speak, the way you can't even lift your head from the pillow.
he looks down at the drenched state of your sheets, then back up at you, shaking, and he's finally back.
"baby," he coaxes in concern, crawling up to meet you. you don't even open your eyes when he hovers over you. you simply squirm, murmuring nonsense as chills rack you and your feet kick out. you're absolutely done. "fuck, baby. hey, you there with me? (y/n)?" he cups his hand over your hot cheek, worried eyes taking in the sight of you. he's never seen you like this before, and it's jarring. how long have you even been like this? did he seriously not notice that you had been spent for a while?
your hands go to push at his chest, but he stops you gently, holding your wrist and hushing you. "it's okay, princess, you're okay. you're alright... fuck, baby, look at you. you can't even understand me, can you?"
as expected, you don't show any indication that you can hear him. instead, your body slowly melts back into the sheets as though registering the shift in satoru's mannerisms and tone. you relax, slumping, and satoru almost thinks you've passed out.
"uh uh. don't pass out on me, pretty. come on," he urges you gently, patting your cheek. you groan and stir, at least showing him that you are still conscious. "okay, that's good, baby. that's a good girl, come here."
he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in his safe embrace. your cheek falls against his bare pectoral and you hum, nuzzling into him as he holds your head close, petting over your hair and watching you carefully. satoru struggles to gather himself as well as he holds you, breathing heavily and twitching against your body whilst bringing himself back to reality.
you continue to rub your face against him, and he looks down at you, brows knitted together. fuck, he feels awful. he hadn't meant to push you this far.
"(y/n)?" he calls your name again, a rather rare occurrence. you take a moment to hum drowsily after a few minutes have passed. "can you hear what i'm saying?"
"...mhm," you hum again brokenly.
"yeah? you can?"
this time you only nod, and he sighs. "are you okay, pretty? are you hurt?"
"mm-mm."
"you sure?"
"y-yeah, tor..."
you don't even finish his name as you sink further into him. satoru kisses your cheek, then your temple. "okay, i get it now. i did too much? i went too far?"
"mhm," you whimper, and his arms tighten around you.
"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, i should've known better," he apologizes profusely. "i got carried away, i wasn't even thinking. i wasn't even there myself- but that's no excuse. i'm sorry. stay with me, pretty."
slowly, your arms slide to wrap around your boyfriend's neck, and he melts like sap into you, cooing gently and showering you with kisses. he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his chest, your soft pants fanning on his cheek, your abdomen tightening and releasing with your shivers.
"you're so sensitive. i got you good, huh?" he observes. "i'll go easier, next time, pretty. okay? you did so good for me. you always do such a good job. just keep those pretty eyes closed and rest. i'll clean you up in a bit."
you nod meekly once more, cuddling impossibly further into him. you doze to the sound of his assurances, of his tender voices telling you that you’re safe, that satoru’s got you, that he’s so proud of you. he lets you rest before he has to wake you again to help you get ready for bed and to clean you properly.
he loves you so much. so so much, and despite him going overboard, his heart swells with relief at the fact that you feel comfortable enough to tell him to stop.
suguru geto: suguru is truly a kind and loving man. he's gentle and meticulous in the way he cares for you. he always makes sure that you have everything you need and that you're cared for the way you deserve to be cared for. and in bed, he's almost teasing with the way he loves you. he's sweet, keeping his searing lips to your ear as he floods your brain with declarations of future promises, of making you happy, of practically laying down his life if it means listening to you call his name over and over.
he's got a mouth on him, one full of filthy affections, and he gets you off on the sultry sweetness of his sugary tone constantly. he'll be knuckles deep inside you, kissing your cheek almost innocently as he murmurs seductively to you his devotions.
"you squeeze me so nice, sweet girl. you look so fucking beautiful like this. that's right, angel. feel it. feel my fingers stretching you out so good. fuck, i could finger you like this every day for the rest of my life. would you like that, angel? hmmm?"
he always makes sure you respond, as well. he's pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and urging you to speak while doing so, no matter how far gone you are. he's not satisfied until your angelic little voice is breathing out to answer him unsteadily, your words warming his heart and hardening his dick without fail.
nevertheless, despite suguru's generosity, he has the tendency to be so mean when he's agitated.
suguru has a pretty terrible attitude, and though it's not often on display when he is irritated, particularly by something you say, he's an entirely different beast.
his honeyed tone still remains when he punishes you, yet it's laced around far less pretty words. he teases, mocks, judges, and at times, it's enough to make you cry or second guess yourself if you were to hear him go on like this in any other setting.
suguru's presence is incredibly domineering aside from his normally gentle demeanor. when push comes to shove, he is still a man capable of murder, a man harboring the hatred of an entire species, and a man who manages to uphold his connections and his legacy through his cult by means of manipulation.
suguru is nice, yes, but he's also kind of a bully.
the dark-haired man doesn't find himself taking out his irritations on you often. he only deems it necessary to do so when his irritation is inspired by you, and while he has attitude issues, you mirror his tenfold... and he does not tolerate you doing so one bit.
now, you know suguru very well and are very accustomed to how he handles you when he's pissed off, but tonight, he's showing no mercy.
he's had you splayed over his lap for what feels like forever, your ass pointed upward and your wrists bound before you as you muffle your whimpers as best as you possibly can. you don't even remember what you had said or done to get suguru so worked up, but you know that your ass is stinging horribly and is likely marked up with several red angry hand prints, yet suguru is seemingly still far from finished with you.
you've tried crawling away multiple times, but his strong hands always pull you right back, keeping your back arched and your ass up for his access.
"don't cry now, angel," he says, voice dark as his hands roam over your ass. you tense as he gathers a handful of the fat into his fingers, squeezing tightly before raising his hand to smack down hard again with no warning. you lurch forward with a sob, your legs trembling harshly. "you weren't crying earlier when you were running your mouth so much, were you?"
"sugu," you hiccup, desperate for a break. "p-please..."
"nuh uh. you can't 'sugu' you're way out of this one," geto says, eyes heavy and dark as they look over the marks he has left behind. "after all, you're the one who wanted this."
"n-no," you deny pitifully.
"no?" he bites down hard on his teeth as he smacks you again, watching your plump flesh jiggle with the motion. he groans under his breath, sliding his hands over you again as you cry. "really? i could have sworn by the way you were talking to me, this was the only outcome you were looking for."
you can hardly hold yourself up anymore. your face falls flat on the bed as your body shakes with your laments. you don't know what number of spanks you're even on. was there ever a set count to begin with?
you try to reach a hand back, but you forget that your wrists are tied before you, leaving you with absolutely no defenses and suguru with the upper hand.
suguru roughly grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up, looking over your tear-stained face with a quirked brow. "what's the matter? can't handle your punishment?" he taunts, eying you intensely.
you sniffle, eyes unfocused. your lips part to answer him, but he beats you to it, landing two more smacks to your backside, and you're seeing stars. the strike of his hand is starting to burn, stinging agonizingly over your skin. your ass is buzzing, throbbing with its own bruise-induced heartbeat.
you feel more tears break past your eyes and your brows scrunch up. "that won't do, angel," suguru says. "i must've gone too soft on you."
who goes to land one last strike, and you can't take it anymore. you're kicking away as best as you can, panting with your cries as your voice goes ragged.
"rose!!" you call, completely beyond yourself. "please, no more, please- i'm sorry! rose!"
suguru freezes, his hardened facade washing away. he breaks past the air of anger that he's been submerged in and sees the way you cry as he holds you up, your pearly tears dribbling past your chin as you continue to beg him to have mercy on you under your trembling breath.
"shit," he curses, slowly releasing your hair and easing your head back down. "i hear you, angel. loud and clear."
he hastily undoes your bind and tosses it to the side, setting your wrists free. you quiver, sinking over his lap. suguru catches a glimpse of the marks he has left once more, watching the blooming of purples and reds spread over your poor bum. he hadn't realize how bad it looked before, but he sees now just how hard he's been hitting you.
"fuck, angel, i'm sorry. i'm sorry."
his hand runs over the small of your back and he ducks down to the side of your face, which is still concealed as you cry. his brows curl and his heart lurches forward, his touch upon you now soft and delicate.
"(y/n)?"
"why'd y'spank me so hard," he hears you question into the blankets, speaking unstably amid your tears. suguru's heart drops then and there, and his entire demeanor shifts upon seeing what he's done to you.
"oh, sweet girl, i'm so fucking sorry. i'm sorry," he whispers to you soothingly, attempting to calm you. you're a wreck over his lap, shaking violently. "i don't know what happened. i don't know why i did that. i'm sorry, baby. i'm sorry."
he hisses as his thumb ghosts over his handprints, and even that has you jumping suddenly. "okay, i won't touch. i'm- shit, i really marked you up. that looks like it hurts so bad, angel, i'm sorry. i was being a dick. i don't know what came over me."
suguru slowly helps you up when you don't reply to him, and once he's got you slightly upright, you fall into his chest as you sob. his arms wrap over your upper and lower back securely, face burrowing into your shoulder. his long hair tickles your bare skin gently, his comforting scent consuming you, and you are reminded of your boyfriend's sympathy once more.
"a-are you really t-that mad?" you hiccup into his shoulder, dampening his skin with your tears.
"no," he tells you. "no, i'm not mad anymore. that wasn't- i just got carried away," he repeats. "you're okay, angel. you're perfect. i let my emotions get in the way too much."
"fe-lt like you hated me..."
"what?" he frowns, pulling back to look you in the eye. your red eyes meet his sorrowfully, and you sniff, searching for the kindness of those hazel eyes you so adore. you rediscover it the moment you look at him. "hate you? (y/n), no. don't say that. i could never hate you. i love you," he brushes your tears from your eyes and you whimper. "you're my sweet girl. my perfect angel. i would never," he says gravely. "i can't believe i made you feel that way."
"you spank hard," you pout, and he kisses your puffy lips, smoothing his hand over you hair and stroking your neck.
"i see that now. i'm sorry. i won't do that again," he kisses you again. "i'm sorry. i hate to see you cry like this. this isn't how i should make you cry."
suguru looks around and locates the bottle of water he left on the dresser prior. he leans forward, careful as to not agitate you, and grabs hold of it. "here," he unscrews the bottle around your waist and lifts it to your lips. "hydrate, baby. you need it."
you pucker your lips around the bottle as he eases it upward, easing the fluid into your mouth as you drink. "that's my girl."
once you're done, he leans down to put the bottle on the floor and slowly guides you off of him and onto your stomach after kissing your lips once more.
"what do you want, angel? ice? you want me to massage it?" he asks you, craning down by your ear as you press your cheek to the pillow and look at him tiredly.
"both," you say softly.
"yes ma'am. i'll be right back."
suguru spends the rest of the night treating you, rolling his cool hands ever so carefully over your bruises, cupping your ass, and massaging out the stings to increase blood flow. your brows arch and you moan into the pillow as he does so.
"i know, i know," he murmurs. "promise, i'll make it better. try to calm down for me."
he's kissing softly over the handprints, whispering endless apologies before applying ice every now and then. eventually, the pain begins to calm and subside as your senses dull, and suguru rubs circles over your waist.
"sugu?" you mutter after an extended period of silence.
the dark-haired man ducks down, gazing over your now serene features. "hm?"
he sees the corners of your lips pull upward subtly as you close your eyes. "you're mean, you know that?"
he puff of amused air blows through his nose as he nods, stroking your temple. "i know. i'm the meanest, angel. i'm sorry."
kento nanami:
kento nanami is a man among men, a perfect gentleman, the blueprint for all partners. he loves you dearly, and he takes any chance he can to show you or remind you of this love he harbors for you.
nanami treats you as though you are the only womann to grace this planet, and in many ways, that is exactly how he sees you. he dotes on you and makes you feel as though you are a queen among peasants, sending you flowers nearly every day, writing you sweet letters, cooking you dinner, keeping his hand to your waist to guide you close to him when you walk around in public, cooking your meals, and buying you every possible thing you could ever even mention wanting.
he's an angel. he's your dream man, and he's all yours and you're all his.
when kento is intimate with you, he likes to take his time. he likes to drag out every second of his fingers touching you and his lips ghosting over your body. he likes to admire you, every single part down to the last detail. he is never in any rush, and why should he be? why would he want this to end? you're his lovely woman, and you deserve every second of pleasure he has to offer you.
he handles you so lovingly, holding your gaze and intertwining his fingers with yours as he strokes into you deeply, a haze of raw passion capturing you both as you breathe into each other, fall into one another's longing gazes, and intertwine like pretty strokes of paint mixing into one another on a canvas.
he's enamored by you, kissing over your neck and listening to your pulse against his skin as he makes love to you, keeping you close, flush to him. tendrils of soft blonde hair sprinkle over your forehead as his lips meet yours, bodies rocking passionately. you can feel the fondness in the way he presses into you, the way he holds you, and you feel so feather light as your head floats into the clouds and heaven encaptures you in the bliss of his hold.
nanami is afraid of hurting you when you have sex. he tends to always handle you with care solely because of this fear of his, and while he has his moments of letting just a little bit more loose, of handling you just a little bit rougher, of pushing in just a little bit deeper, he doesn't want to overwhelm you to the point where you are in pain.
you, of course, spur him on and encourage him to let go. you don't believe that nanami would ever hurt you, or at least do so to the point of irreversible damage, but he still gives you a safe word to use for any time you may feel more sensitive than normal or need a break or simply want him to stop because he's making you uncomfortable. you never thought that you would need such a thing with him, but you had unfortunately been wrong.
it isn't even nanami's fault, per say. you like to push yourself more than nanami really approves, and while you can handle it just fine, you find a moment when you overestimate yourself.
you've been riding kento at his desk chair, your hands gripping his shoulders as his hands clutch your hips. his head is tossed back, normally neatly combed haired tousled messily, and his chocolate eyes drink you in through heavy lids. a chorus of hushed moans leave your lips as you work yourself down onto him, rolling your hips, grinding over him, and sliding up and down swiftly.
the blonde's lashes flutter as he watches you, a sight so beautiful and a sensation so purely exquisite that he can not bear to look away.
you lean down to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest to his unbuttoned dress shirt. his hands run over your back on instinct, eyes falling closed as he pants into your shoulder.
"ken," you pur into his ear. "fuck up into me, please..."
and normally kento would think on it more, but hell, you just feel too good for him to deny such a polite request. he obliges, gripping your hips and holding you down, planting his feet securely into the carpet and sheathing his throbbing length upward and into your welcoming, gummy walls.
"oh, sweetheart," he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck with furrowed brows. "you feel so perfect like this."
"fuckkk, ken," you whine.
after a while, you push yourself down at a faster pace, attempting to catch up with his strokes and speed him up. kento grunts, holding you tighter and understanding the message as he thrusts up into you faster.
soon, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass lifts into the air throughout his home office, and you're whining into him, rutting yourself down with him.
nanami's groaning into you, pace a bit wilder as he mimics your behavior. he's got a hand slid up your neck and into your hair as the other holds your waist down, no longer allowing you to move the way you had before as his thrusts proceed.
you're squelching around him, moaning prettily and growing louder by the second until nanami shifts slightly, sitting up straighter and holding you still as he fucks up into you.
he's rougher, as you had physically and verbally requested of him. while this isn't the first time he's handled you a bit harder, it's the first time you feel the weight of his tip bruise your insides with his position, his speed, and his access.
you gasp, breath hitching in your throat as pleasure rather quickly transitions into discomfort, and you squirm. you want to take it, you love taking him so much, but the longer he pulls you further into the harsh push of his dick into your cervix, the more painful it begins to feel.
you grip into nanami's hair, squeezing the muscles in your face as you breathe out heavily. it only takes a few more thrusts that slam into you way too harshly before you tap against his back.
"ah- ken, ken, hold on- mm- yellow!"
nanami stops even before the word leaves your mouth, pulling you off of him with haste as you wince. he sets you back down on his thighs, and you can feel his length twitching against your ass as he looks over you with pinched brows.
he looks so pretty, still thoroughly consumed with lust, captured by worry for your well-being. his hands remain on your waist as he looks over you sternly. "tell me where sweetheart. how did i hurt you?"
you already feel bad as your walls clench around nothing, rather disappointed in yourself. you tremble slightly, looking down. "sorry- i just... it just started hurting for a sec."
"i was going too roughly?" he asks you for clarification, warm brown hues of care looking up at you. he looks torn, devastated that he had broken the one promise he had made to himself about harming you in such a vulnerable state.
"it wasn't you, ken, i didn't think it would hurt that much," you say dejectedly, a tad woozy from the way you had just been handled. it wasn't as though you didn't enjoy it, your body had just reacted differently and reminded you of your limits with taking ken in such a way.
"of course it was me, honey, i'm not sure what you mean," he says softly, his thumb smoothing over your spine. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i never meant to hurt you. i must have allowed myself to get too worked up."
"it's okay, ken," you shush him, taking his face gently in your hands. he gazes at you, frustrated with himself but eyes so full of love for you, the darkness in his eyes still swimming about. "you always tell me to reel it in, but you just make me feel so good. i always want more of you. i pushed a little too hard."
"honey," nanami begins, taking one of your wrists in his veiny hand and turning to press a kiss to your palm. "i still would never blame you in this situation. i know better. i apologize sincerely. how badly does it hurt?"
"...it's not that bad, ken. it was just a sting."
"it doesn't matter," he shakes his head. "i think that's enough intimacy for today. i can not stand the thought of hurting you any further."
you give him a sad look. "but it wasn't all your fault, ken," you frown.
nanami smiles at you softly and leans in to press a long, gentle kiss to your lips. he pulls away from you and meets your gorgeous eyes. "i love you, sweetheart," he declares so warmly, so honestly and you return the sentiment without a second thought, heart thrumming.
"i love you more."
"let me run a bath for you, okay? then after, we can relax and order some food. i can give you a nice massage, too. how does that sound?"
"...can i massage you too?"
nanami laughs slightly. "darling, i'm not the one who got hurt."
"i don't care. i wanna help you relax too. you always have so much tension."
"i'm relaxed any time i'm with you. and you certainly were helping me relax a few minutes ago. perhaps, a bit too much."
you pout and he kisses you again, his soft lips warm and enticing against your own. "ken," you murmur against his lips as he draws himself back, rubbing his palm over your spine and sliding your shirt back down from its scrunched state.
"yes, my love?"
"i still want you."
he gives you a firm, warning look. "(y/n), i said that's enough. you need to rest a bit. you just said that you have the tendency to push yourself when it comes to sex."
"i know, but," you push your bottom lip out and lean back up against his chest, arms draping over his shoulders again. "it doesn't have to be sex. you can just... eat me out."
you feel nanami's chest stutter against you as he breathes out heavily. "you're playing a dangerous game, you know that?"
"please?" you beg, dragging your nose against his neck. "you're always gentle. and it feels so good... all you have to do is hold me down, i won't get hurt in any way with your tongue on me, i swear."
a groan rumbles in nanami's chest and you can feel his dick twitch back to life against you. you smile lazily, leaning back to look him in the eye. "pleaseee?"
"only if you behave," he accepts, raising his brows. "i'm serious. i will go the pace i want to go, and you'll take it. slowly."
you bite the inside of your lip and nod, a pretty smile gracing your face. nanami hums, curving his hand over the back of your head and bringing you to his lips again.
"what am i going to do with you?"
choso kamo:
your brown-haired boyfriend is new to a plethora of human emotions and habits, yet sex is one thing he adjusts to rather eagerly and skillfully thanks to your influence.
choso is ever so inquisitive, seeking to explore every part of you so that he can ingrain your body and its incredible functions into his mind, so he can adapt, so he can improve, and you can confidently say that he proceeds to do so with each passing moment he studies, loves, and cares for you.
choso gets pretty flustered by you easily. you introduce him to not only a world of your love and affection, but a world of vulnerability, pleasure, and sensual exploration. he learns fast, the goal of making you happy driving him forward into picking up on the things you show him incredibly swiftly.
he's so handsy with you, unsure of how to properly convey all that you make him feel so he frequently clobbers you, enveloping you, consuming you in a needy daze, repetitively chanting about how he loves you and how beautiful you are, and how amazing you make him feel, how he never wants to let you go. he's pathetically obsessed with you, longing for your touch at any given moment yet he always allows you to initiate your intimacy first before he completely drowns in you. he's still working on managing himself around you as well as his own urges to refrain from acting out of line, being too forward, or misreading situations. he wants to be perfect for you, and never in your relationship does choso ever want to misstep or misread what you want.
getting him to vocalize when and how he wants you is one thing, but once you've started, sending him a text about how you need him, or running your hand down his thigh a little closer to his crotch underneath the table, or giving him that certain look in your eye that can only mean one thing, then he's completely and utterly unraveling at the very second you give him the green light.
choso's sloppy and uncoordinated but it doesn't matter and he doesn't care because all he's after is you, and when he has you, his brain goes numb, his hands, his dick, his everything are acting with a mind of their own.
the two of you are hot gasps and nasty sloppy noises as the purple eyed man above you pleads for you, though you're right there, aching for more until he can't even breathe.
you think choso is so beautiful like this, lips parted and brows curled as though he's going to cry from the euphoria. his brown hair falls over his shoulders and sticks to his forehead, free from the updo that he always wears, and for someone who can manipulate the blood in his body, he is beet red in the face as he watches the way he disappears into you.
choso would never hurt you. not in a million years. he would die before he hurt you, standing in front of oncoming traffic and sacrificing himself for the sake of your life.
therefore, when his crooked fingers are rocketing into your sopping walls as you cream over and over on his three digits, his lips slurping over your clit with your fingers lace into his hair and tugging at his scalp, he doesn't expect you to stop him.
he's only thinking of how you taste so sweet on his tongue, how your gorgeous pussy makes that squelching noise the deeper he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and god, the way his dick twitches every time you pull at his hair- he can hardly tell if you're trying to yank him away or to pull him closer at this point, but he's not even thinking about that. he's not thinking at all.
he’s groaning and humming into you, whining in between breaths about how he just can’t get enough, but his fingers are beginning to thrust too fast, too far inside of your walls.
his noises shift between guttural, deep growls and shaky, heavy-pitched breaths. though you love every sound, you begin to feel yourself rejecting the feeling as it grows far too swift, too hard, too overpowering.
"c-cho," you whimper, your thighs moving to push you away, but he keeps you down with his free forearm to your lower abdomen. "baby, i c-can't- ah!"
his noises rise over your pleads and he doesn't stop, and you can feel an uncomfortable knot building in your stomach in addition to the ache inside you. you wince, the overlapping sensations proving to be way too much at once.
your hand pushes at his forehead rather harshly. "cho-! ngh- pinaepple!"
choso's brows twitch as he processes what you just said, his mind still not completely comprehending, but after a second or two, he rips himself away as though he's burned you.
panic swirls in his violet eyes, his saliva and your slick shining over his chin up to his nose. he looks up at you over your thighs, but you don't see because you're leaning your head back in relief and breathing heavily.
"did you just say your safeword?" he asks in a rush, ensuring that he has registered your words properly.
you nod stiffly, furrowing your brows. "y-yeah, m'sorry," you breathe. "i couldn't take anymore."
choso's pupils shrink as though you've just told him that all life is ending as you know it. his heart hammers through his chest, and he instantly peels away from your now cold sex to swipe his fingers on the bed, ridding himself of any reminder that he has pushed you too much.
he crawls up to see your face, caging his arms over you. his muscles tense as he looks over your expression, brows knitted and eyes glossy. you eventually open your eyes again, having sensed his presence over you.
"(y/n), i'm sorry," he apologizes so earnestly like it's the very last thing he'll ever say to you. he's suddenly deadly serious, firm, and ashamed of himself. "you've never used our word before. i... i didn't realize what i was doing to you."
"cho," you say his name softly. he tilts his head further down to you, his brows curling in sadness. "it's okay, baby. stuff like this happens."
"what do you mean?" he frowns, hand coming over your cheek the moment yours lifts to hold his. "this has never happened to us before. i'm not sure how i let it, either."
"i just mean in general," you clarify softly. you can feel your eyes growing heavier and your speech slurring. choso notices as well, keeping his hand on your face so that you remain with him, cognizant of his gaze and his touch.
"this has happened to you before?" he asks, slightly horrified and simultaneously agitated by the very idea. "when? with who?"
"baby, i'm trying to tell you mistakes happen," you laugh softly. "no, this hasn't happened to me before, but i'm saying we have a safe word for a reason for when these things do happen."
"oh," he murmurs. "but i never wanted you to actually have to use it..."
"well, how else would we learn about each other if we didn't run into things like this?" you smile warmly at him. choso's face blooms with further heat, humming to himself as he looks at you.
"tell me."
"tell you what?"
"tell me exactly what it was that i did. i'll be sure not to make the same mistake twice. i swear. i'm so sorry for hurting you," he declares, determined.
"it wasn't that bad, love," you assure him.
"i still want to know. i need to know."
"it was just the way you were using your fingers, and i was already super sensitive."
"...so, you don't want me to use my fingers on you anymore?"
"oh, god, no," you say, and you can see choso visibly relax.
"oh... okay, good. i would have stopped if you wanted me to, but i was hoping that wasn't it. i love fingering you."
your tired smile spreads as you lift your other hand to curl into his hair, scratching gently. his lashes flutter, heavy eyes matching your own. "i love when you finger me too, cho. just maybe next time, be gentler... only because you'd already made me cum so much. my body was just tired and i don't think it could keep up anymore."
he nods, taking in every word you say. "i understand. that makes sense, i'm sorry. i should have checked on you and asked."
"it's okay, baby, you don't have to keep apologizing."
"but i just can't stomach that i-"
"it's. okay," you whisper slowly, pulling him down to meet your lips with his in a delicate peck where you can smell yourself on his breath.
he sighs when you pull away, face twisted irritably. "are you sure, baby? you're not just saying that?"
"of course," you say softly. "it was just one little thing. that's all. i'm okay."
choso almost looks reluctant to accept your dismissal of the situation. he somehow feels like he needs to be reprimanded more for it, and you can tell simply by the way he stares at you.
"cho," you giggle. "stop, i told you i'm fine."
"i know. you're too sweet to me, (y/n)," he murmurs. "i wanna make it up to you. can i? is there anything i can do to make you feel better? please tell me."
you swoon internally at just how much cares. "can you just cuddle me please?"
"yes. absolutely, yes."
the brunette moves to kiss your forehead, then helps ease your legs over so that you are settled comfortably over the bed. before he lays down, he is reminded of the dampness beneath you, coating your inner thighs and creeping up to your belly button.
"love, do you have a towel?" he asks you gently as you start to curl over to him. "i need to clean you up, don't i? i made kind of a mess."
"later, cho," you mumble tugging at his bicep. "just want to be close to you right now."
he's torn momentarily. he's always quick to cater to what you ask of him, to just silently yet happily comply with whatever you need, but he knows that the second he gathers you in his arms, sleep is going to take over the both of you as it normally does after sex. the last thing he wants is for you to be laying in a sticky pool of your own arousal. he imagines you waking up uncomfortable, and it doesn't sit well with him.
"hold on a minute," he tells you. you look up curiously as he kisses your cheek and slides his arm slowly from you to stand. your hand slips into his before you release him reluctantly.
"cho?" you call him with big eyes, and the brunette almost gives in right there.
"just one more second. i remember us always doing this, and i don't want to neglect you now."
"...but-"
"one second. i promise, love."
you sigh and accept it. the moment you say okay, choso is practically sprinting to your bathroom and back with a towel. you can't help but smile gently as he hurriedly, yet gently, cleans you dry, holding your legs in his palm and easing them to the side when he's done.
"do you have to pee?" he asks you rather bluntly, gazing up at you as he folds the towel and places it on the ground.
you groan at the thought. "yeah, but i don't feel like it."
"that's okay. i'll take you."
"to pee?" you quirk a brow.
"yes?" he answers as though you questioning the thought is absurd. "i don't want you to go yourself. you're tired."
"yeah, but then that means you'll just be listening to me."
"(y/n), i've seen every part of you. i don't care about watching you pee."
"why would you want to hear or watch me in the first place?" you whine.
"to make sure it doesn't hurt you when you do."
"cho, baby, you did not hurt me that bad. oh my god," you run a hand over your face and shake your head with your laughter.
"i just want to make sure you're alright. i can close my eyes if it helps," he says stubbornly, leaning down to gather you slowly into his arms. your arms go to wrap over his neck as he lifts you up and walks you off.
"it's honestly fine whatever you do, cho, i just think it's a little funny."
"to worry?"
"nooo," you sigh, knocking your head against his shoulder. "nevermind."
choso responds with a peck to your head before sitting you down in the restroom. once the both of you are settled, you're back in bed under the covers. choso holds you with your back to his chest, palming soothingly over your abdomen as you drift off to sleep with the feeling of his chest rising and falling against you.
"(y/n)," cho's voice rumbles into you. you hum contentedly half asleep, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "thank you for being honest with me. i love you. i love you so much."
"mmm. i love you too, cho. thank you for always listening to me."
toji fushiguro:
toji, mentally and physically, can not get enough of you, especially after long stressful days on the job. when he comes home from work and is greeted by the sight of your pretty face after having had guns pointed at his head, blood spilling on his face, and the weight of exhaustion and sore muscles hanging on his back, seeing you is like seeing the gates of heaven after death.
the assassin is always so quick to fall over you, pressing you to him and smothering you in long, deep, hot kisses as he walks you back or picks you up to carry you to your bedroom, or to the shower, or hell, even to the countertop in the kitchen.
toji fucking loves being inside you. he loves tasting you on his lips, feeling you clench around his fingers, watching you squeeze over his heavy cock as he sinks into you with a guttural groan and a devilish smirk. he loves the way your soft skin feels beneath his calloused hands, he loves licking the salty-sweet sweat from your neck as you toss your head back, he loves the sound of your pussy gushing around him with each slow stroke that inevitably transitions into ruthless pounding.
god, he loves fucking you as much as he loves you, and the moment he's got you in his arms with a week of stress pent up within his chest, he's pouring all if it straight into the way he fucks you, and he gets lost in the euphoria that is you.
you're such a pretty thing beneath him, so small compared to his bulking frame, and he is obsessed with it. one second, he's stroking in leisurely, absorbing every second of the way he slides his girth between your gummy walls, soaking up the way you greedily drag him back in with each thrust. and the next, you're in a mating press and he's grunting into your mouth through a sloppy lip lock, slamming in rhythmically, stilling his cock inside you for a second longer each time so that you can feel just had deep he is, just how deliciously he's stretching you open. hell, he doesn't even know when or how it happens. he just knows that you have him whipped, and his stress melts away with each drag of his seed he pumps into you after the umpteenth round.
"fuckin' hell, doll, keep drainin' my cock just like that. thaaaaat's it, pretty baby- hah, fuck- take me so deep inside this perfect lil' pussy..."
toji has always been well aware of the size difference between the two of you. he's always been a freakishly large man, and that fact of course applies to the generous width of the monster he carries between his legs. he knows you struggle at times when he has to take a good minute or two to help you relax as he eases himself into you while you whine, that his size can be a bit overwhelming, but you've accustomed to him so well that he completely forgets about how much stronger, heavier, and bigger he is- especially so when he is stressed.
he is, however, unfortunately, reminded after he has curled your lower half up from the bed with your legs over his shoulder. your knees are hovering by your ears as he plants himself over you with his feet on the bed, holding onto your hips and pounding himself down into you almost vertically, keeping you flush against his torso.
his day had been particularly long and grueling, and the job he had been on took far longer than expected just for his client to argue with him about some bullshit once he had finished. toji's irritated, and he's fucking you like he is.
normally you don't have much of a problem with that, but this position he's got you in has you widening your eyes and practically screaming. he's too deep, pushing in too hard, and this angle gives you no room to squirm away or for his dick to angle anywhere but straight into your guts. it hurts, and his face is tense with blazing jade irises of fury, fingers digging into your skin bruisingly, and he's on the verge of going impossibly harder.
you choke, scrunching your face and moving to press against him. when he starts to reach for your hand and pin it down, you shout.
"orange!" you cry. "stop, toji, orange!"
he instantly stills, face falling as he stares down at you in shock. "oh shit, baby, for real?"
you nod quickly with a tight face and he's retracting within seconds, pulling out carefully and bringing your legs back down to the mattress.
"fuck, alright," he says, climbing over you and pulling you down gently. "sorry, baby, was it the angle?"
you don't say much, only nod again as you fight the tears that prick the corners of your eyes. you keep your eyes closed and toji wraps you up, laying back on his side and pulling you into his chest. he feels your legs twitching against his and your shoulders shaking as he holds you, and remorse floods his chest. "talk to me."
"w-was too deep, toji," you shudder, whispering shakily into him. "s'big, and that angle- it hurt."
toji's heart clenches as he holds you tighter around your shoulders. he kisses your forehead, pressing his lips to your hair. "i didn't realize, baby, i'm sorry."
"i told you it was too much..."
"i know, doll, but i didn't think you meant it. you usually don't."
"s'why i said... the word."
"yeah, you did. you did exactly what you were supposed to. good girl, doll," he praises, rubbing over your back slowly. he's never seen you look so pained in such an intimate space with you. the way your brows were pinched angrily when he looked up, the way your teeth bared in a soft grimace, the way you pushed against him and wanted him to get off, it breaks his heart. he feels like a complete piece of shit, especially so because he didn't notice until your safeword came flying out of your mouth.
"i'm sorry," he apologizes again. "i should've been payin' attention. i had a bad day... fuck, sorry."
you can tell he's remorseful, and that combined with the fact that you've been fucked stupid for the past hour and a half has you shaking your head against him forgivingly, head dizzy as you finally take a moment to collect yourself. "it's okay," you mumble into his neck lightly.
"it's not, doll. it ain't even fun or sex anymore if i'm hurtin' you," he frowns. you make a soft noise but don't respond to him verbally. toji looks down at you, gently lifting your head to catch the fuzzy look in your eye. "you hearin' me? you okay?"
you nod dumbly, a hint of unease pinching your brows when your legs twitch again and the ache in your core throbs. you burrow your face in toji's neck and he sighs.
"i gotta get you cleaned up, doll. then i'll make up for it."
"wait," you mumble the moment you feel him pulling away. he stops as you cling to him, peering up at him through sleepy lashes. "don't go."
"i'm just gettin' you a towel. i'll be right back."
you look at him sadly once he has completely torn away from you and stood at the edge of the bed. he watches the way you bring your knees to your chest and look up at him with sleepy, desperate eyes. toji exhales, tilting his head.
"you want me to take you with me?"
"yes..."
he allows himself to smile lightly in amusement. "alright, but you're not walkin' anywhere, you understand?"
he leans down and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. he hoists you up cautiously by your bum, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. you cringe slightly at the action, your legs burning after having endured such exertion, and toji can feel you shift against him as he holds you with one arm by your waist.
"that's not comfortable, is it?" he turns to your face, but it has already disappeared into his neck. you don't respond and toji exhales at the stubborn clinginess that you resort to in this fucked out state at the cost of your comfort.
he aids you by holding one of your thighs gently as he walks to your bathroom to retrieve the things he needs. with one hand holding you and the other gripping some cloths, he carries you back into your room and sets you softly onto your back on the cushions.
he gently unwinds your legs from around him and kneels on the bed beside you. he ducks down to kiss you softly, and you hum in satisfaction against him before he pulls away, stroking your forehead.
"close your eyes, doll. let me take care of ya."
a warm rag runs over your body, wiping over dark hickeys and lines of sweat. his lips follow in the cloth's wake, kissing over any part of you that he deems he has treated too roughly in his haste to relieve himself of stress.
he reaches your thighs, where the most pain resides, and presses his lips to them softly. his fingers run over your calves, up the sides of your plush flesh and he proceeds to pepper kisses between your legs, swiping the cloth over your damp entrance tentatively, keeping his eyes on your face to ensure that he isn't further harming you. you do jerk slightly, but that is the extent of your physical reaction.
"i got you, don't worry."
the second you feel the cloth leave you, toji's hands are pulling you up again, moving you around so that he can lay flat on his back beside you. you open your eyes, watching him curiously.
"come lay on me, baby," he guides you by your arm.
you do as he says, easing yourself chest-first onto of him and allowing your body to sink into his heat. his hands come over you and his palms work into the knots in your lower back, over your bum, and in your shoulder blades. he kneads into the balls of tightness, rolling over and rubbing them through lazily.
your eyes flutter at the relieving sensation, the green-eyed man's rough hands smoothing to rid your body of excess tension. "there you go," he kisses your shoulder. "i'll make you feel better, i promise. no more pain for my girl."
"love you, toj," you whisper sleepily into his skin.
"love you too. i'm sorry for hurtin' you. i'll be more careful."
ryomen sukuna: you know sukuna to be rough in all aspects of his life, and that certainly does not change when it comes to the two of you having sex- in fact, that very trait of his is enhanced. the moment he slips inside of you, he's pushing your head face first into the pillows, gripping your waist or your thighs or your throat with his large palms as to prevent you from running away, spitting into your mouth, fisting your hair, leaving red bite marks in his wake, anything he possibly can to remind you that you are his to devour whole.
you've always enjoyed the way he tosses you around or fucks you over the velvet pad of his throne, or holds you almost violently by the thighs in the air and spears you down on his ungodly thick cock while sitting at the edge of your bed with his feet planted into the floor. he knows he's not gentle with you, but aggression is the only way he knows to take you by, to show you how much you drive him fucking crazy, to bask in your enchanting screeches and your doll-like, hazy expressions.
and like the good girl he knows you to be, you take him every single time, and it spurs him on. it encourages him to plow harder, to grip tighter, to render you completely immobile beneath him as he ruts himself into you like it's the end of the fucking world and the only way for him to survive is to fuck you like a worthless whore, though you're nothing close to one.
while he always leaves you in a pool of your mixed fluids on the verge of losing consciousness, shaking like a leaf kissed by the breeze, you've never expressed an inability or refusal to handle him. you take him so well for a human, and sukuna's captivated by your strength, your insatiable desire when he's bullying his dick into your swollen cunt. while you get overstimulated, or hell even beg him to go slower or softer, he knows you don't really want him to stop because you haven't uttered the one word that he told you to reserve only for the times you feel you are beyond discomfort.
that is, until a few seconds ago, when the muffled word rips from your hoarse throat through the ball of your panties he's stuffed into your mouth.
sukuna's on top of you, pressing his heavy weight over your back with his arms wrapped under your frame and his thighs crushing in on your on. you're on your stomach, tears dribbling from your eyes and down your face as sukuna finally stills inside you after having thrusted painfully into your cervix over and over. he's so deep inside you, and he wants you to feel. he wanted to see how much further he could break you in, but clearly, he had mistakenly forgotten that you are still fragile.
the king of curses' eyes go wide, and he rips an arm from under you to tear the gag from your mouth. you heave out a sob, face falling into the pillows as you murmur your safeword again, a string of practically unintelligible spent moans that only sukuna can understand because he's never heard you utter that word before.
"red, red, red," you snivel, and sukuna's face relaxes.
"i heard you," he murmurs gruffly. "give me a moment."
you whine as your entire body collapses with the withdrawal of sukuna's arms from your body. he sighs heavily, looking over your marked skin as he smoothes a hand up your spine. you flinch with a whimper, and he clicks his teeth.
"this is what happens when you grow cocky."
"h-hurts, kuna. too hard," he thinks he hears you simper.
"never heard you say that before," he murmurs. "know your limits, woman."
he slowly eases himself out of your warmth with a clenched jaw and angled brows, watching your arousal gush onto the sheets the moment he's pulled back. you jump and curl further up into the pillow.
"oh my, how far have i taken you this time?" he hums, watching as you squirm under even the slightest touch he gives.
"ryooo," you whine.
"alright, alright," he comes back down over your limp body, curling his fingers over your forehead to pull your face up and gently brush your sweaty hair away. your eyes are closed as he turns inward to look over you, caressing your damp cheek softly. you're so warm, so shaky beneath him. your brows are pinched together in pain and exhaustion, and your lips are wobbling. hell, he's never seen you look so weak before.
"hey," he coaxes gently, voice rumbling tenderly against your back through his toned abdominals. you're releasing a series of trembles, broken hums, likely unsure of where you even are, and sukuna curses internally. he softens. "what do you need, peach?" he asks you in a low whisper.
your response is near incomprehensible, but sukuna is already thinking and moving before you even open your mouth. he exhales heavily and presses himself back up so that he can stand and gather you in his arms. you whimper when he goes to delicately flip you over.
"relax," he orders softly, smearing the wetness away from your cheek and smoothing his hands over your heated skin. you obey him to the best of your ability as he pulls you up.
as though it is muscle memory, you lean into his bare chest once he is holding you bridal style. you continue to tremble, and sukuna's crimson eyes roam your body carefully. he's truly done a number on you this time.
normally when it came to baths, sukuna would have one of his servants or uraume run them for you, but instead, he feels the need to take the duty on himself as he carries you into your large connected restroom. he sets you down within the inhumanly large royal tub slowly, and the moment he pulls from you, you reach for him lazily in retort as your head rolls back against the rim.
"be patient, i am not going anywhere."
he reaches to turn on the faucet as hot water streams around your feet. he's hasty with his movements, focused, knowing that you do not desire to be cold in this moment. he stands to retrieve the oils and soaps he's purchased solely for your pleasure and sits back down beside the tub.
"open your eyes," he reaches in to cradle your chin. you scrunch your lids and tilt your head to him, peeling your blurry eyes on his command. "lavender or peppermint. pick one."
your eyes weakly drift to the array of bottoms lined on the ledge. "lavender," you request tiredly.
your voice is so small, so light, a heady contrast to the way you normally challenge him with your playful tone. sukuna looks at you momentarily, soaking in your sweet mellow state, before retrieving the said bottle and pouring it into the rising steamy water.
he keeps a hand on your shoulder, rubbing over a bite mark with his thumb, as bubbles, soothing fragrances, and petals fall into the tub one by one. the hot water crowds over your bare skin, alleviating the dull ache between your legs and the stings of the marks on your skin.
sukuna holds an intense look of focus, swishing his arm around the water to ensure that all the properties he has included mix together well. you watch him, dazed, cheek propped against the porcelain with heavy (e/c) eyes studying his attentiveness. he feels your eyes on him, but only raises a brow at you once the bath is finished.
you truly aren't all there.
sukuna rises to his feet, slipping his arms behind you and under your own to hold you up as he steps inside with you.
you let him manuever you, your body too exhausted to dare to try to move. he pulls you flush against his chest, his thighs crowding over your own. you sigh out, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he brings a cloth over you, washing away remnants of spit and cum, massaging into the aches of your body wordlessly.
his chin comes down over your shoulder while his hands wind over your waist to stroke your legs. his fingers dance gently over your inner thighs, up your abdomen, ghosting over your neck. he's everywhere, and for the first time, in a supple, tender way, as though he is polishing glass that he does not wish to break.
you're humming, breathing steadily, chest rising deeply and slowly. sukuna's hands curve to smooth over your tits, and you flinch, leading him to smirk lightly. "sensitive, are we?" you pout, brows curling, and he turns his lips to your neck. "calm down, brat, i'm not going to push you. keep still."
his palms work over the sore plush of your breasts and you melt, arching into him as he massages over you with such care. a weak moan threatens to escape you and sukuna shakes his head. "do not. that is what led you here in the first place."
his hands release your tits and follow the curve of your body downward once more. he continues his massaging and caressing of your body until you're no longer twitching.
his hands fall over your hips, smoothing over your stomach. he lifts up slightly to look down at you. "are you still in pain?"
you take a moment to respond, but eventually, your eyes open again and they meet sukuna's lax gaze. despite the permanent angle of his brows, he appears calm before you, mutely compassionate.
you lean against him, holding his gaze, and shake your head slightly, a bit of your senses slowly returning. "only a little between my legs," you murmur.
he hums. "and how would you expect me to tend to this pain?"
you don't say anything, but the soft glint in your eye speaks for you as sukuna's hand slowly trails down your stomach and past your clit lightly. you inhale sharply, still thoroughly sensitive.
sukuna's eyes look over the whole of your face. "do you wish me to massage your sore cunt from the inside? is that what you so desire?"
you moan out a gentle sigh, heavy lids falling over your eyes in a blink as you nod helplessly against him. "slowly..." you murmur.
"you are insatiable," he mumbles lowly. his fingers ghost over the lips of your pussy, circling them gently before sinking past and sliding into your warm walls.
your mouth parts and your head knocks back as sukuna watches you closely. the water swishes around your legs as you move, sukuna's lips crushing slowly over your mouth.
"i suppose i can assist as a reward for you speaking up."
pairing: geto suguru x f!reader
wc: 2.9k
warnings: period sex. suguru thinks of reader as his girlfriend. first time but they're not virgins. praise. begging. dacryphilia. geto has a fat cock.
the first time you and suguru have sex (and you didn’t mean for it to be that way, but timing was everything) you were on your period. you had let him come over to keep you company while you rested; he even thought to bring medicine and some chocolate truffle treats he saw at the store. he was so sweet to you, letting you rest your head on one of his thighs while the two of you splayed out on the pallet he had made in the living room for the two of you to hunker down on and watch an anime.
it was so easy with suguru, you had learned after only a few weeks of dating. you had never dated a guy who could casually let you use his leg as a pillow without a second thought, especially if that second thought made him hard. but when you looked up at suguru he was completely relaxed.
his shoulders propped against the front of the couch, he had his other knee bent by your head. his elbow on the cushion propped up his head as he watched the show, his hair down for only the second time since you two started hanging out. he truly was the most handsome man you had ever seen.
your eyes wandered down the side of his jaw, past his collarbone that peeked out from under the oversized grey shirt he wore. his other hand rested on your head, doing something every once and a while that you could only describe as petting. it almost made you giggle, like suguru was doing such a good job caring for his little pet.
you sighed and nuzzled his thigh, making him glance down at you to check in. you gave him a smile and he turned back to the show after returning it. you couldn’t help how your eyes continued to wander. past the unassuming bulge in his shorts, his other thigh was just near your face, thick and smooth. you wanted to kiss it, feel the smooth skin with your lips, maybe tease it with your teeth. you didn’t notice you were rubbing your thighs together until it was too late.
“baby?”
your eyes shot to suguru, who had suffered enough under your scrutiny. he could feel your eyes against every inch of his exposed skin and he was gonna actually get hard if you kept rubbing your thighs together. but when he spoke you stopped immediately, blushing.
“you okay?” he asked. you nodded immediately, feeling your cheeks get hot. you were so embarrassed.
“yes, sugu, i’m okay.” you assured him, lifting your head off your pillow to plant a quick kiss on his skin. he smiled and ran his hand over your hair, moving to massage the back of your neck.
you were screwed. you should have fucked him when you had the chance, you cursed yourself. now you were bleeding and horny and stuck with your face practically in his crotch. suguru wouldn’t want to have sex, it would be too messy. not to mention the two of you hadn’t taken that step in your relationship yet—you had been waiting for whenever felt right. and you hadn’t anticipated being so hormonal.
you looked up at him again and moaned at how good he looked, you wanted to eat him whole.
wait he was looking at you.
wait, had you just moaned out loud?
“baby?”
“yes sugu?”
“are you sure you’re okay?” he was smirking at you, one eyebrow pulled taut. you groaned and sat up, hands moving to cover your face as you heard suguru chuckle.
“no, i’m not sure!” you thought you were gonna die of humiliation.
“it’s okay,” suguru was pulling you into his arms, amused. you whined, crossing your arms when he pulled your hands from your face. “what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asked lowly.
you looked at him for a moment, searching for something in his face that told you he was about to make fun of you. when you seemingly found nothing you sighed. your response came out mumbled, your cheeks heating up. feeling suguru’s body pressed beneath yours was flustering you.
“eh?” he looked genuinely lost, unable to make out your words. you were practically throwing a tantrum in his lap, kicking your feet out and pushing against his chest even though he wasn’t letting you go.
“i said i’m horny!” you finally admitted, looking anywhere but at the man who had fallen silent above you. you had deflated, going limp against him.
“oh.” you looked up and suguru looked genuinely surprised. you hated yourself.
“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have made this—“
“no, c’mon.” he started moving, lifting you up and situating you on his lap.
“what? suguru i’m on my period, we can’t—“
“you’re not gonna let me make your poor little pussy feel better?” he pouted slightly, his hips shifting to let you know he was not shying away from what he probably thought was just a little blood.
“this is my heaviest day!” you protested, hands on his shoulders as he began rolling you across his bulge, the very one you had been admiring all afternoon. “and sugu, this is our…” you trailed off and he realized what might be your main hesitancy. his playful gaze cooled a little, becoming soft.
“listen, i will wait.” he said, his hands still gripping at your hips. “i want you to be ready, to want it as much as i do.” he shot you a look when you looked like you were about to protest. of course you wanted to, you just didn’t want him to be grossed out. “and if you’re ready now, i need you to know there is nothing i want more—nothing i have wanted more since i saw you curled up by yourself when i got here—than to take care of you.”
you were melting, practically whining as you hid your face in his neck. after a beat, you took a deep breathe.
“i want you,” you whispered, clutching his shoulders.
“what was that?” suguru asked, pulled his face back to look at you. he had a smile on his lips.
“will you fuck me?” you pouted, giving up on any remaining dignity you had left.
suguru did something you had not seen him do before: he grinned. leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
“yeah? my baby needs me to fuck her?” he pressed you down against him and he was fully hard. you whined and suguru groaned. “you’re already so needy.” he clapped a hand down on your ass, making you yelp. “let’s get you ready.” his grin made your stomach drop. he left you to remove your tampon while he got some towels and a pillow from your bedroom.
that was how you made it on your back in the middle of the floor pallet, back arched, too gone to be mortified by the sound of suguru fucking the fat head of his cock against your g-spot.
with your sleep shirt puddled above your sensitive breasts and your hips supported on the pillow, suguru had eased his cockhead against your entrance, watching his tip pop inside your cunt. you both moaned, your hands reaching to hold his knees as he moved you on just his tip. you were so sensitive, you could help the tears that welled in your eyes.
“aw, is my princess crying? and you haven’t even gotten fucked yet?” suguru cooed, kissing the inside of one of your knees.
“please,” you choked out, making suguru hiss when your nails dug into the skin of his knees.
“i know, sweetheart,” he murmured. he worked one more inch inside, watching his cock stain red. you were so wet, your pussy hot around his tip. “i’ll make it better.” he promised.
his words were falling on deaf ears. your head was already empty, feeling him stretch out your aching heat. you wouldn’t let him prep you so he was trying to go slow, but you wanted more. suguru was trying not to come too soon. you were so tight, every movement he made pulled a noise from you that shot tingles up his spine. your pussy was unreal, sucking him in with loud squelching that echoed through the apartment. he couldn’t believe you had asked him to fuck you on your period.
as if you had known.
as if you had known he was nasty. that he loved to fuck his girl when she was bleeding. he was still trying to be a gentleman; the two of you had only been together for a month. a month of controlled touches, quick kisses, and almost no cuddling. and even with those reservations he was fucking his fist the second he got home from dropping you off. he was having the most vivid dreams he ever had, ones where you would beg him just like you were now, ones where he would used all his strength to push his cock right up against your cerv—
“suguru, please!” he broke from his thoughts, cursing himself. he was so focused on retaining control, on not hurting you, on not cumming, that he had let you slowly become more hysterical. every time he moved inside he just barely grazed the spot inside of you that you needed him to focus on. “please give it to me, i need it all, please i’m so sorry i can’t—“
“shh it’s okay, i’m sorry baby. i know i’m moving too slow, i just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” suguru was suddenly bending over you, his palms pushing your hair away from your forehead as he kissed your face. your cheeks were wet with tears and his voice low and gentle. his heart squeezed at how desperate you were, moving your hips to get more of him even as he tried soothing you. “okay, okay. i’ve got you, princess. i’ll take care of you.”
he kissed your lips as he braced himself above you. with one push of his hips he slid to the hilt, the breathe being punched out of him as he felt you around his entire length. so wet and sticky, so warm and tight. you moaned loudly, your head thrown back to bare your neck to him.
“oh, again.” you cried out. your hands moving to his chest, it wasn’t clear if you were trying to push him away or drag him closer but one of your blunt fingernails caught his nipple and he hissed. “again, please!”
he set a pace, moving his cock almost all the way out of you before giving you a slow thrust to bottom all the way out. you were so close right from the start, you could feel how much of a mess your thighs were but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you had just half an hour before. suguru gave a solid thrust and you were loud.
“it feels so good, god it feels so good,” he was smiling, amused at your babbling. he was still being gentle but you seemed satisfied with simply his whole length. he was thick, too. he was stretching you out perfectly. when he looked down at where your bodies met he groaned at the blood staining his cock and thighs.
“fuck, baby. you are doing so well, do you feel better?” he asked, reaching down to press a hand against your pelvis. his thumb swept across your slick clit and you keened. “aw, there you go. that’s my girl.” he rumbled as you clenched around him.
“gonna—“ your knees started coming together and suguru tutted, pulling them apart and using the tops of your thighs as leverage. “oh, fuck—‘m gonna cum—“ your voice broke.
“that’s it, baby. cum for me.” he rubbed his palms up and down your smooth skin. he didn’t falter in his pace as you came, twisting on his dick as he held you in place and grit his teeth against not cumming immediately.
you went limp, your eyes closed and your head back. you looked beautiful, your tits bouncing gently with each thrust as he kept his rhythm. your eyebrows started furrowing as you felt the sensitivity of your sex shoot through your pussy. your mouth opened but your voice was caught. suguru chuckled.
you weren’t even trying to stop him. you wanted to be overstimulated. he leaned down to kiss your lips, your jaw, your breast. he took a nipple in his mouth as he picked up his pace by just a fraction. you whimpered.
“mmm, good little puppy.” suguru rasped as he lost himself in your heat. “such a good little pussy, taking me while you’re bleeding. you poor baby,” he teased your sensitive nubs, sucking your tit into his mouth as you squirmed. “so desperate for my cum even when it won’t take.”
you moaned, your body hot as his words knocked around your head. you could feel pressure building in your core, becoming so intense you wanted to run away but sugurus hands on your hips stopped you.
“uh uh uh,” he tutted, watching your face as he angled his hips. “no, be a good girl and take it baby.” he told you, giving you permission to lean into the intensity of your orgasm. he was shoving his cock against your spot over and over again, his eyes rolling back at how your cunt grew tighter with each thrust, as if it was trying to halt all possibility of movement. you were fucking tight.
adjusting your position so that he could lean over you better, he was pulling noises out of you that you knew would mortify you later. but you couldn’t help it, and suguru loved to hear it, so when he slid two of his fingers into your mouth you wrapped your lips around them, humming.
“you gonna cum again for me?” he asked, his mouth pressed against your ear. you nodded, crying. “oh, pretty baby, let it out.” he cooed, feeling his hips stutter in their pace. “next time you need me to help you on your period i’ll get you to let me eat you.” he was the babbling one now. “i want every part of you so bad, pretty.” he tucked his head in your neck and pulled his hand from your mouth. he wrapped his arm under you, around your hips, and used it as leverage to fuck into you hard. you yelled, cumming wet and hot all over his cock. suguru moved his hips faster, feeling his own orgasm crest. he felt like it was the the biggest he had ever chased. you were moving in his arms, trying to run or just trying to take it he couldn’t tell. you were crying something, and he realized you were clutching him.
“—inside! please, inside sugu.” you were wailing, begging him to finish. that was all he needed to hear.
he saw stars as he came, shoving himself to the hilt inside you. he wasn’t aware of anything except how hard he was cumming, pulsing hot and hard against your walls. when he resurfaced, to his surprise, he had to unhinge his jaw from your neck. his head felt fuzzy, his body heavy. he was dazed, looking at the indentations his teeth left on your skin.
“suguru,” your hiccup cut through to him. he looked at your face and you were crying. shit.
“baby,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. “i’m so sorry, did i hurt you?” he felt the guilt twist in his gut. he had really lost himself for a moment—he had never bitten his partner like that. but you weren’t pushing him away. you were wrapping yourself around him, your ankles locking behind him and your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “sweetheart, talk to me.” he pleaded. you were crying and he was confused. you took a shaky breathe to tell him,
“thank you,” you cried, pushing your head into his neck. that was all you were saying, over and over. like those were the only words you knew. suguru froze before relief swept over him almost as intense as his orgasm.
“oh, my sweet girl.” he said warmly, moving to lay down and let you rest on top of him. “you don’t need to thank me. shh,” he kissed the top of your head, petting your hair.
when you had calmed down enough, you let suguru carry you to the bathroom and wash the two of you off. you were exhausted, your eyes drooping as he cleaned between your legs and his. when he turned the water off he was able to discern your mumbling and hand gestures, moving through the bathroom to get you a tampon to put in.
when everything had been cleaned up, the two of you were laying on the couch, your head on his chest. you pouted, nuzzling closer.
“i’m so sore,” you whined, feeling almost as if your boyfriend was still rearranging your guts.
“baby, you’re the one who begged.” suguru pulled you impossibly closer, clicking his tongue at you. “i tried to go slow.”
“mmm, i like it.” you breathed. suguru’s eyes snapped to your face and you were gone, sound asleep with your leg hitched over his hip. his perfect little girlfriend.
“you’re gonna end me.” he whispered, watching with a shake of his head as you started to drool on his shirt.
synopsis; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.
word count; 6.2k
contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, no really that’s literally all this fic is, sugu snaps at you for worrying about him, (and then promptly spirals), he makes it up to you though :), healthy communication ensues, [name] is used exactly once, switching povs, soft & fluffy ending <33
a/n; going back to my roots (mindless hurt/comfort) 🙏🙏 i just think that if suguru picked me up like a small kitten and put me in his lap it would fix me
you’re cold.
little shivers run through your body, down your spine, and all you can do is clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. the heavy rain falls down without mercy, going pitter patter as it hits the asphalt. a sudden lightning strike lights up the town, flashing in the reflection of puddles, and you manage a weak jolt.
dark clouds blanket the whole sky, not allowing even a sliver of blue to shine through the darkness of the rainy evening. enveloping you, surrounding you, soft earthy scents — wet asphalt, roses blooming to your left and right, bushes with sweet-smelling flora guiding your path, little petals glistening with droplets and bouncing with the force of the rain.
it’d be comforting, were it not for one simple fact;
you don’t have an umbrella.
at this point, thirty minutes into your solemn, sniffly walk, you’re absolutely soaked. with only a measly hoodie to cover your body and head, and a tank top sticking to the skin beneath it — you were stupid to think you’d get out of it unscathed. your shoes feel uncomfortable, wet soles sticking to the asphalt, two heavy weights carrying you down the familiar street ahead of you.
you let out a shuddering breath.
gosh, this was stupid. you knew it was going to rain, but still walked out without a care in the world; despite the weather forecast, despite suguru’s warnings over breakfast, despite the dark clouds covering the milk-blue sky. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. you just felt so helpless.
you just couldn’t stay there.
some fresh air, and a bit of space. that was all you needed. just that one sliver of comfort.
so, yeah, maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly when you stormed out. maybe you weren’t thinking nearly enough, not enough to even grab one of the umbrellas hanging off the coatrack. hanging there just for you, the cutest little frog umbrella, one suguru bought for you himself. big, googly eyes, and a big smile. the most perfect shade of green.
(he put it there just for you.)
maybe you weren’t thinking at all. maybe you just needed to get away, away from him, away from the frustration on his features. arguments with suguru are few and far between — it only adds to the sting of his cold voice still ringing in your ears. you bite down on your bottom lip again, just to stop it from wobbling so pitifully. blinking rapidly, tears and raindrops clinging to your lashline.
you were just worried. is that so awful?
(why did he have to be so fucking mean about it?)
a sigh flows from your lips, heavy and defeated and undeniably tired. you hate feeling like this, this bitter, hate feeling like you’ve done something wrong. more than anything, you hate arguing with him — hate the idea of him being angry with you. hate the way his voice turns colder, just a little sharper, an octave lower. he never raises it, never ever, but somehow he still sounds so scary.
it bothers you. bothers you how sensitive you are when it comes to him. just that shivering tilt of his voice, coupled with the annoyance in his eyes, was enough to make your eyes a little glassy. one little sentence, and you were close to breaking out into a sob. because suguru was angry with you, and that alone makes you feel like you’ve done nothing right in your life.
so you left. because that was all you could do.
sure, the sharp pelting of the rain hurts a little, and the thunder is scary, and you’re awfully cold — but anything is better than having suguru see you burst into tears over such a small argument. you know he’d try to soothe you, know he’d feel guilty. but that just makes it all the more embarrassing.
(all the more pathetic.)
so you left, rushed out of your own apartment, and before you knew it the storm was rolling in above you. rain and thunder, something to rival the ache in your chest. it still hasn’t been that long, a little over half an hour, and you still haven’t fully calmed down. you still don’t know how to face him. but —
but fuck, it’s cold. and an undeniable part of you yearns to run back into his arms, to make up with him, to hear his voice turn warm and see his eyes go soft. you want him to soothe you so, so badly. like he always does.
another sigh — more resigned this time — slips from out your lips. your bones feel sore, you’re almost certain you’re going to catch a cold, and it’s getting late. you’re all alone, and it’s raining, and you look vulnerable and helpless.
you want to go home.
it’ll be awkward, but maybe you can sneak in somehow — without him noticing. then you can go straight to sleep, on the couch, and maybe you’ll feel a little better tomorrow. the two of you can talk it out over breakfast, over warm coffee, and you can tell him what you meant to say without stumbling over what words to use or dancing around the subject like a scared little child.
you’re just too tired to argue anymore.
he just made you feel so stupid. so very, very small. suguru’s been working so hard lately, coming home late, exhausting himself. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. that, and to coax him into relaxing a bit; maybe take a day off to recharge. that was all.
but he just brushed you off.
and, well, maybe you should’ve backed off after that. maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign that suguru didn’t feel up to answering your questions. but you were just so worried, so pitifully anxious, and you just wanted to help him so, so badly.
suguru is always so dependable. always there to help you, to ground you, to console you. even when you push him away or insist you don’t need it. he can be pushy, when he feels like he needs to, when your health is at risk — and it’s frustrating, but you’ve always appreciated it. you just wanted to return the favour. push him, just a little, to show him how much you care. show him that he can depend on you the way he insists you do with him.
but then he grew frustrated.
”suguru… you’ve been working so much, i’m —” you bite down on your bottom lip. ”i’m just worried that you’re overdoing it.”
”… god. how many times do i have to say it? i know my limits, [name].”
”but — you just look so tired —”
”well, i’m sorry for that.” a cold smile. ”am i not living up to your expectations?”
(that’s not what you meant. he knows that’s not what you meant.)
and it makes you feel frustrated, too. pardon you for being worried. for wanting to be there for him, for once, for wanting to be a supportive partner and not just a burden.
pardon you for feeling a little lonely, with him coming home so late, leaving so early. with him not giving you the affection you’re so used to, and never confiding in you about his stress.
pardon you for wanting him to trust you, a little, even just a sliver more than not at all.
god, you’re exhausted. you just want to sleep — can’t you have that, at least? just that one thing? you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, don’t mind feeling like a stranger in your own home, as long as you get to rest your eyes. just for a little while.
your brain spins in circles, bitterness and longing heavy on your tongue, as you grumble over what to do or how to feel —
while your feet have already begun taking you home. moving almost on their own, on instinct, walking past rose bushes and backyards, the smell of glucose and rotting apples.
and you’re there before you know it: in front of the familiar door to your shared apartment, soaked from head to toe. still feeling a little lost.
for a second, you hesitate.
maybe he’s still angry. maybe he was happy to get some time away from you. maybe you’re just making things worse by doing this, maybe you should just —
but your fingers have already fished out the key from within your pocket, unlocking the door in one swift motion. moving up to curl around the doorknob, a desperation in your veins guiding you closer to his steady warmth.
and before you have the chance to waver again, you pull the door open and step inside.
you move slowly, gentle and careful, almost cautious. softly closing the door behind you and taking a couple quiet steps forward, only to shrug off your hoodie — heavy, soaking wet and discomforting as you pull it over your head. clumsily, you try to get it off you, squirming when the warm indoors air meets your sweaty tank top. it feels soothing on your bare skin, though, ghosting over your shoulders and collarbone, hoodie now clinging to your elbows.
in the middle of the taxing endeavor, you almost fail to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away.
almost, because it’d be impossible for you to miss him, that heavy gaze of his.
and before you can think the thought to do anything else, you’ve locked eyes with him — arms still tangled up in the wet sleeves of your hoodie, raindrops and sweat sticking to your skin.
(suguru takes a moment to look at you.)
not daring to say anything, afraid to part your lips, you simply stand there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, you can’t really read his expression — you’re a little too tired, a little too caught off guard.
you can only blink, worry surely evident in your furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense.
and then he’s walking away again.
crestfallen. that’s probably the best way to describe how you feel right now, watching him disappear around the corner. dejected, as your eyes fall to the floor, and your posture wilts like a dying rose. you finally shake off your hoodie and watch it fall to the floor with a gross, wet plap.
it hurts. you want to cry. you can’t help it. even though a part of you is still upset, even though a part of you fully expected this to happen…
another part was still hoping he’d be happy to see you. as if just seeing his smile again might’ve fixed everything.
but he didn’t even give you that.
that’s that, then. there’s nothing you can do except proceed with your original plan. you’ll change into some warm, dry clothes, and go to sleep on the couch like the miserable dog you are. you’ll leave everything troublesome and disheartening for tomorrow’s you to handle.
for now, you just have to worry about getting some sleep. you don’t have to think about suguru, or his cold voice, or the way he just walked away without saying anything.
you don’t have to think about him at all.
(don’t think. don’t think. don’t —)
— the soft patter of footsteps breaks you out of your anxious spiral. they come closer and closer, until a certain silhouette enters your vision out of the corner of your eye.
a certain suguru geto, hair down and cascading past his shoulders, wearing a comfortable sweater and loose sweatpants with a fluffy towel in tow.
once again, you can only blink. a vaguely confused deer in headlights. suguru comes closer and closer, until you can clearly see his eyes, amber gold, full of an emotion you finally manage to identify —
worry.
(ah.)
before you can say anything, he’s draped the towel around you. it feels nice, a soft texture on your skin, big enough to engulf you completely, cocooning you. cozy and snug. you can’t help but melt a little when suguru places his big hand over the towel and smooths it over your cheek, drying off your skin so gently that you feel like crying again.
”are you cold?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. to your immense relief, it sounds nowhere near as scary as before. ”you’re soaked…”
suguru almost seems to be pouting, bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit, eyebrows furrowed softly. still rubbing the raindrops off your skin. he looks awfully troubled, undeniably anxious, and the way he’s caressing your skin feels so earnestly caring. the towel feels warm, like he went the extra mile to heat it up for you.
and, more than anything, the feeling of suguru’s big hands cupping your face is almost heavenly. even though the touch is indirect, you can’t help but bask in his warmth, almost desperate to cling to it after escaping from the harsh cold of the rain. like he could slip away and leave you again if you don’t stay perfectly still, just like this.
it’s soothing. so, so soothing. but it also makes you feel kind of meek.
you sound sheepish when you answer, voice a little hoarse after your grueling walk. throat dry from all the crying. ”nah, ’m fine…”
the words are tiny, fragile like pieces of glass, and they only make suguru’s brows furrow further, pout turning into a soft frown as he gazes down at you.
(he hates how small you look. like you’re curling in on yourself.)
as soon as you left the apartment, a wave of regret washed over him. it was expected, obviously, because that’s what always happens after the two of you argue — which is almost never, which only makes the cut in his heart run deeper.
he felt frustrated. and tired, so tired. but when he saw your troubled expression, the way your eyes watered slightly before you rushed out…
he could only feel guilty.
and that sensation only deepened as he sat on the couch and spiraled, over the course of forty long minutes, playing the interaction back inside his head. over and over, thinking about your words, his words, some of which he desperately wishes he could take back.
and when it started raining? suguru could only feel regret, hot and ugly, dragging him into his own thoughts. could only drown in his worries, look out the window anxiously. thinking of you, his sweet baby, stuck under the onslaught of dark clouds and lightning strikes and heavy rain.
(you didn’t bring an umbrella.)
suguru waited. that was all he could do.
he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel so useless. fighting with himself, the part of him that wanted to give you the space you needed clashing with the part that yearned to run after you — scoop you up and apologize, hold you tight and protect you from the rainfall. you weren’t answering his calls, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to make you feel even worse. afraid to scare you off for good.
so he could only sit there and worry, sit there and wait, wallow in his own shame until he heard the faintest sound of the front door unlocking. followed by the sound of it creaking open, slowly — and that was all he needed.
and there you were. standing by the entrance, entirely soaked, tank top sticking to your skin and that flimsy hoodie hanging off your arms, cheeks a little red from the cold and strands of hair sticking to your skin.
like a tiny kitten left out in the rain.
it made him feel so painfully anxious. his heart aching so deeply, so viscerally, while all he could think about was smothering you in affection. taking care of you, like he always wants to do, needs to do to stay sane. so suguru left, to go grab something to dry you off with —
and now he’s here. in front of you, smothering you with the towel rather than his love, fretting over you like an overprotective mother.
suguru yearns to soothe you. to take care of you. always, always, always, his hands on your skin and lidded amber eyes staring deeply into yours. offering himself like a shelter to a stray dog, hoping so tenderly that you’ll take the bait.
(he just wants you to feel safe with him again.)
so he stumbles for something, anything to say, afraid of overstepping or making you uncomfortable. you did just argue, and suguru was anything but patient with you. usually he would be; he’d make sure to be. but with work piling up, and exhaustion clinging to every pore of his skin…
he failed at maintaining his composure.
he needs to make it up to you. despite everything — even though he feels a little awkward, a little restless, still drowning a little in shame — he just wants to tend to you. that, and nothing more.
”hang on,” he exhales, stepping back and letting go of the towel. ”i’ll go draw you a bath…”
”ah — no need,” you smile, a little forced, swiftly reassuring him. he can tell you don’t really know how to act after everything that happened; still walking on eggshells. ”i’ll just take a quick shower.”
suguru wants to protest, wants to coax you into taking a proper bath, into letting your cold skin and aching bones relax completely —
but he can only hum, a little unsure. a little sad.
”… okay. got it.”
perplexed, he tries his hand at another tactic. still so desperate to take care of you in whatever way you’ll allow, like always, but he thinks it’s worse now. even more desperate, after the fight you had, after seeing your frail, shivering self. resisting the urge to scoop you up and coddle you is a struggle.
”i can make you tea?” he tries, inwardly wincing at the way the words spill from his lips; uncertain, awkward. what a mess.
but you smile, slightly more genuinely this time, a soft little thing. it soothes some of the anxiety rotting through his ribs.
”tea would be great, thank you.”
you brush past him, warm towel still hanging off your shoulders. ”i’ll just take a shower in the meantime,” you murmur, and suguru can do nothing but nod, watching you go.
he swallows thickly.
(that’s that, then.)
tea. right. what kind of tea? something warm, and soothing, and good for your throat. chamomile? peppermint? he’ll add a spoon of honey, just the way you like.
suguru’s mind spins in circles while his feet take him to the kitchen, hands swiftly rummaging through cabinets and getting the electric kettle ready. placing teacups and a teapot on the table, cute little floral designs he couldn’t help but fill your kitchen with. pouring hot peppermint tea into the pot, a strong scent drifting through the kitchen, drowning his senses in bliss.
caught up in his own head, losing track of time, suguru fails to notice you walking from the bathroom — stopping by the threshold of the kitchen, hesitant to make your presence known. a few silent moments pass. with a tiny inhale, mint invading your senses, you take a step forward. calm and sleepy, skin still pleasantly hot from the warm shower, hair still a little damp.
only then does suguru notice you, his gaze drifting to your figure as if instinctively drawn to it.
you’re clad in some comfortable sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie — his hoodie, the one with the unreasonably soft texture, the one you tend to gravitate towards — the one he likes to see you in the most, because you always look so thoroughly comfy in it. almost drowning in the fabric.
seeing you all warm and cozy, in his clothing no less, sends a tremor of pure warmth running through suguru’s chest. sprouting in his heart and spreading throughout his entire body. he can’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so fondly he’s almost sure you notice it.
”i made peppermint,” he says, a little breathless, already pouring boiling tea into two cups on the table. ”that okay?”
”yeah,” you answer, instantaneous. stifling a yawn. you’d have been fine with anything, really.
the shower worked wonders for your muddled mind; chasing away the shivers down your spine, that unpleasant chill to your skin. most importantly, it gave you a moment to simply relax, to bask in the peace and quiet. feel the hot water surround you, melt your bones like softened clay. you feel a little better, now. still anxious, more than a little sleepy, but better. and right now, that’s all you need.
with a groggy kind of pep in your step, you stumble over to the kitchen table, plopping down on the chair across from where suguru is sitting. trying to get comfortable, knees pressed against your chest, muttering a soft thank you while gingerly touching the rim of the cup.
(suguru frowns, just barely, at the sight. usually you’d sit right next to him. but now you’re in front of him, so very far — as if you’re strangers.
it breaks his heart, a little bit.)
a soft hum leaves your lips when you take a sip of the tea — all warm and comforting and minty on your tongue, a vague taste of something sweet. it’s relaxing, more than anything, and it makes you feel a little more okay with everything.
suguru only watches you, drinking absentmindedly from his own cup. not really tasting anything.
finally, he opts to clear his throat — and your attention falls on him instantly.
”hey,” he starts, ready to address the elephant in the room. his voice is gentle, but decisive, firm somehow. ”about before…”
your body tenses, ever so slightly, fingers uncurling around the handle of the teacup. there’s a kind of shift in the air around you, in suguru’s tone of voice — and you were expecting it, waiting for it anxiously, but that doesn’t make it any less harrowing.
here it comes, your mind seems to sing. here comes the moment everything shatters again.
with as much strength as you can muster, you smile. a little sheepish, just a tad forced, refusing to meet his eyes from across the table. staring into the murky green of your cup and hoping in vain that you can somehow escape this discomfort.
(you just want to rest. you just want to not have to think about anything.)
”it’s fine, suguru,” you cut him off. softly, but there’s a certain tilt to your voice that strikes him as rather cold. ”we can just drop it.”
the decision in his eyes doesn’t waver. you look meek, awfully troubled, and he hates to force you into another discussion when you’re undoubtedly tired — but suguru’s mind is set. he’s been evasive enough, today.
”no. i want to talk about it properly.”
at that, you seem to deflate a little. suguru is nothing if not stubborn, a quality that always manages to coexist with his gentleness, his desire to be a good partner for you. you can tell he won’t allow you to wriggle away, now that you’re both finally calm. he’s not doing it to exhaust you, not doing it to gain some sort of satisfaction out of ”winning” the argument — he’s doing it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. even if it makes you both a little uncomfortable.
communication is important, immensely so. suguru knows it very well.
and you do, too.
so all you do is curl into yourself, shifting in your seat, allowing him to speak his mind and sipping quietly on your tea. biting back a disgruntled huff, gaze lingering on the tablecloth, little calico cats etched into the fabric. he wanted one with yellow stripes, but still bought this one just for you. just like the ugly matching couple mugs you forced him into buying, the green colour of your kitchen wallpaper. he always places you before himself.
(all you wanted was to change that. just for a night, if nothing else. and he got mad at you for it.)
suguru sighs. it sounds fatigued, not frustrated or disappointed. he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but follow the movement, the soft silky strands and the way he smooths them over. practiced, familiar, absentminded. you could watch him do it forever.
”i had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” he begins, recalling the mental gymnastics he went through while you were away. just sitting on the couch and running himself ragged, trying to be impartial, trying to see your point of view without letting his own bias get in the way.
you sink a little further into the chair, eyes downcast. inhaling the scent of peppermint, trying to prepare yourself for what he might say, the ways this could all go wrong.
”and i realized that you were right.”
…
you blink. once, then twice.
hesitantly, you raise your head, searching for suguru’s gaze. he isn’t looking at you, staring out at the rainfall through the window as if in deep thought. his gaze shifts to meet yours, and something soft flickers through his golden eyes.
he looks troubled, though. trying to find the right words, mind clouded by guilt. chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.
it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the words in his mind, just to make sure he gets them across as smoothly as possible. he’s had more than enough time to verbalize his feelings, to think about what he wants to say to you. it was all he could do while he waited.
so his voice is earnest, when he continues, sincerely apologetic and thought out.
”i’m always telling you not to overwork yourself. and here i am, doing the same thing…” another sigh. ”you were just worried. i shouldn’t have lashed out — you didn’t deserve that.”
suguru searches for your gaze, and manages to find it. you falter a little under the weight of his eyes, but they’re warm, remorseful. a setting sun.
”i’m sorry.”
a moment of silence passes. then two. three, five. you look down at your cup, the purple hyacinths etched into the porcelain. crumbling under his gaze, at the sound of his genuine apology.
and suddenly, you feel silly — silly for being so scared, for thinking suguru might still be angry with you. for thinking he wouldn’t spend as much time as needed to properly think about your words, your feelings, even if he might not have been ready to do so when he first heard them.
suguru can be stubborn, if he’s convinced that he’s in the right. but he always, always seeks you out eventually, always makes sure to genuinely look at things from your perspective.
and, really, it means everything. it means enough to wash away all your leftover irritation, from having him brush you off when you know you didn’t do anything wrong. all the leftover sadness from being pushed away, from not being allowed to take care of him the way he always does for you.
suguru isn’t perfect, but he tries harder than anyone you know. tries his very best to be as close to perfect as he can possibly get — for you, for the both of you. he’s considerate enough, mature enough to take the time he needs to properly communicate. that’s how much he loves you.
and yes, doing so makes you a little uncomfortable. but when faced with something like that, someone so kind, who loves you like the rain loves the ground — how could you ever bear not to do the same?
”… it’s fine,” you start, softly. ”maybe i overreacted a bit. ’s just —” a gulp. you’re trying your best to verbalize your feelings, the way suguru just did, the way he always does.
and he waits, patiently. for as long as you need. looking at you from across the table softly, already immensely relieved at the lack of tension in the air.
”i don’t like seeing you so tired. i know that your work is important, and i support you, but…” your voice goes quiet, as you trail off, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. ”you know.”
and suguru does. he does understand, he always will. so he hums.
”i know,” he murmurs, softly. ”it wasn’t an overreaction. i just didn’t realize it myself. got too caught up in everything,” a sharp exhale leaves his lips. ”it’s been… a long week. i’m not using that as an excuse, though.”
you listen attentively, eyes softening at his words. you can tell that he means it, that you finally got your message across. all you wanted was for him to take a break, to take care of himself.
to let you take care of him.
suguru continues. he makes it a point to look into your eyes as he speaks — a little intimidating, especially in a situation like this — but you know it reassures him, that it lets him know you really understand what he’s trying to say.
so you hold his gaze, as steady as you can, glancing down at his collarbone when it becomes just a little too much.
”i’m grateful that i have you,” he says, voice dripping with softness, gazing at you with a fondness that has you crumbling all over again. ”and that you care enough to set me straight when i need it.”
and suguru means it. he means it more than anything else. not once has he ever stopped appreciating you, all the things you do for him; always so sweet and caring, even when it’s subtle. this was no exception. you’re always worried, always looking out for him. he feels awful for getting so defensive. for pushing you away, when you were trying so earnestly to reach him.
but he’ll make up for all of that, starting now.
”i mean it. i appreciate you so much, you have no idea — i’m so sorry if i made you think otherwise.” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in remorse. ”i really, really am.”
(and when he looks at you like that, when he speaks so very gently —
how could you ever bear not to forgive him?)
you shift in your seat again. gazing down, chewing at your bottom lip. his honesty makes you falter, makes it hard for you not to do the same; even if your voice ends up sounding awfully tiny and awfully close to breaking apart.
”… i was just worried,” you mumble, meekly, shooing away any tears you have left with rapid blinks.
”i know,” suguru soothes. the smile on his face is genuine, comforting, honey and peppermint and warmth. ”i was being immature. you were right — i’ve been burning myself out.”
you don’t say anything. only letting his words console you, feeling yourself relax at the sound of him opening up a little. just enough to make everything all better again.
”i was thinking of taking tomorrow off,” he continues, searching for your timid gaze and smiling gently once he finds it. ”what do you say?”
you brighten a little, so obvious in the way you sit up straighter, the way something soft and hopeful blossoms in the scope of your iris. the sight coaxes suguru’s patient smile into widening a smidge, his eyes crinkling at your barely contained excitement.
”that’d be nice…” you murmur, averting your gaze once more. but suguru can tell you like the sound of that, that it’s exactly what would finally put your anxious mind at ease.
a smile, bright and fond. suguru opens his arms.
”then i will.”
for a moment, you simply stare. at him, his outstretched limbs — that soft smile, as he waits for you to get the hint. and you blink.
oh.
you look down at your lap. a little sheepish, almost shy. it takes you another moment to raise your head, again, only to see another gentle flicker in suguru’s eyes — and then you finally get up from your seat.
it feels a little strange. a little awkward, as if some of your bones still can’t help but tread on eggshells, afraid of making him upset again. but it’s suguru, and he loves you, and his arms are waiting patiently to hold you.
and you want that more than anything.
so you fall into his arms, softly, curling up in his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. suguru has one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles into your spine to make you relax.
it works wonders. despite your initial hesitance, you melt into the embrace without putting up a fuss — happy to be in his arms again, to feel the anxiety dissipate when you realize that everything’s finally alright.
and suguru is just as happy, just as content. breathing out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. he strokes your hair lovingly, and you nuzzle into him a little more; making his lips quirk up, eyes filling with adoration. finally, he can relax. having you in his arms feels so soothing. and you’re so sweet, curling into him, seeking comfort and warmth that he’s more than happy to provide.
how long has it been since he had a chance to hold you like this? he made sure to be affectionate whenever he could, before leaving for work and after coming back — but in the midst of all the paperwork and stress…
suguru sighs, a little sadder this time, watching you bask in the attention he had been robbing you of this whole time. without even realizing it.
”and i’m sorry for neglecting you, too,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. muffled by your hair as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.
that certainly gets your attention.
”neglecting me?” you sputter, eyes suddenly wide open and lips parted in disbelief. flustered, heat rushing to your neck and ears. ”wha — what am i, some high-maintenance puppy? you didn’t neglect me.”
suguru only chuckles, biting back a soft coo that he knows would only fluster you more. instead, he pulls away a little, just to look at you, and pecks your forehead softly.
”well, i’m sorry for not being around much, then. i’ll make it up to you. okay?”
hiding away in his collarbone, again, you mutter a soft okay that has suguru’s heart squeezing in his chest. he cradles you close, engulfs you in his embrace, and hopes you can feel his love through the action. hopes you can feel it in the way his arms fit around you like they were always meant to be right there.
and you do feel his love. feel it smooth away the leftover turmoil in your brain, caress your skin softly. it’s soothing, and comforting, and you feel so incredibly safe. here, in suguru’s embrace, with the sound of rain hitting the window and the scent of peppermint wafting through the kitchen — it’d be impossible not to relax.
before you know it, your eyelids have fluttered shut, breathing softening out and heartbeat slowing down. a peaceful rhythm, carrying you away. suguru notices it before you do.
”you sleeping, baby?”
you jolt a little in his arms — murmuring something unintelligible into his neck, and he only chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm.
”c’mon. let’s get you to bed, hm?”
suguru smooths a hand down your back, arms tightening around you before he scoops you up and gets up from his seat. ”there we go,” he hums, helping you hike your legs around his waist. ”you can sleep, angel. i’ve got you.”
your arms tighten around him, and you inhale his scent; grounding and comforting, raindrops and roses. tomorrow you can bask in it properly, can take care of him properly. you’ll coddle him all day.
but for now, you need to get some rest.
allowing your senses to dull away, clinging to suguru like a makeshift pillow, you absently listen to the storm still raging on outside. faraway, cold and harsh, but comforting when you’re in his steady grasp.
a yawn escapes your honey-soothed throat.
you don’t miss the i love you murmured into your ear, accompanying you into dreamland as your eyes flutter shut.
really love dynamics that are like 'it honestly doesn't matter if you view them as romantic or platonic, the point is that they love each other. the type of love is inconsequential, all that matters is that it's there'. gotta be one of my favorite genders.
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ i’m afraid that’s just the way the world works (but i think that it could work for you and me)
synopsis. suguru stumbles across two girls that need a home. somehow, one step at a time, you both find yourselves navigating parenthood
contents. not canon compliant at all—there are still curses, but it's literally an au where everything turns out happy LMAO, teacher! suguru, husband! suguru, fem! reader, reader is referred to as "wife" and "mommy," hints at child neglect/abuse (nanako and mimiko's backstory), yuji, nobara and megumi are the ones that save nanako and mimiko—the timeline is inaccurate bc the twins are still kids when megumi and co. are teens, single dad! satoru who raised megs and tsumiki (tsumiki is ALIVE and NOT CURSED) <3, it's just fluff tbh, it's overall healing and happy i promise
word count. 5.4k (sigh...this was supposed to be a drabble)
notes. yeah i am telling u i literally shoved every fix-it fic idea for jjk into one fic okay and u will all nod along and agree with it. this was supposed to be a drabble but i literally just could not shut up so now its a fic
“there are these two girls,” suguru says quietly at dinner one night, pulling you from the comfortable silence. you look up as you swallow, eyeing him as you nod carefully—nothing is ever a normal conversation when your husband is a jujutsu teacher. nothing is ever a normal conversation when you’re capable of jujutsu in general, you’ve learned that well by now.
“okay…” you say slowly, “and are they your students?”
they must be new, if they are. you know all of suguru’s students; you know them well enough to pick birthday presents and bring what they each like from the bakery. you don’t think you know of these two—they must be new.
“no,” he breathes, “no, they’re too young for that. maybe someday,” he adds hopefully.
“maybe someday,” you agree thoughtfully.
suguru loves teaching. it’s not something he ever saw himself doing—but life is dark at one point, a constant cloud looming over his head as it screams it’s over! your youth is over.
sometimes it hits him all at once—no one was there to protect suguru’s youth, no one was there for satoru’s or nanami’s, and certainly not haibara’s. no one was there to make sure they could be kids, that the sun could still shine and chase the clouds away.
so suguru becomes a teacher. he’s fond of the kids—and they like him too. geto sensei, they call, geto sensei, look! and then he pauses in the hall, holds back an amused chuckle before turning to face an overly enthusiastic yuji and nobara. megumi is not far behind, that disgruntled look on his face as always, but if you look closely, his eyes are soft and laced with something close to fondness.
geto sensei is a favorite—much more of a favorite than gojo sensei is, to satoru’s utter dismay. you can’t help but watch proudly sometimes, can’t help but watch how much suguru has grown as he interacts with those kids, how much he’s allowed himself to grow, how much he’s let himself try to chase the sun instead of letting the clouds convince him the light no longer exists.
“they’re five,” suguru continues, poking the soba in front of him as he doesn’t meet your gaze. “the kids found them on a mission. in a cage.”
you know what that means instantly. you look at suguru, watching as his eyes stare numbly at the food in front of him—sometimes, you worry that suguru will once more fall victim to those bone-chilling thoughts he shares with you one night. sometimes you worry he’ll slip and fall once more and you won’t notice this time, won’t reach your fingers and grasp him at the last second.
but he blinks, looks up and meets your eyes this time, stares into them and searches them for what he needs. he finds it, you think, because there’s light returning to them once more.
maybe it’s hope, maybe it’s acceptance. maybe it’s neither, and he’s just happy to have you to come back to when the world gets too burdensome. you’re not sure, but you do know you’ll always be there, right where he needs you.
“what happened to them?” you ask gently, “was it their parents?”
“no,” he shakes his head, “the villagers. their parents are dead.”
it’s not new—you’ve seen it before too. children tend to notice their techniques at this age. it’s not new to hear about children with no family history of sorcerers being labeled as some type of other in the family, in the community, or in the village.
suguru is lucky in that way—his mother and father see him as something special, something worth celebrating, something greater than they could ever hope to be. you meet them once every year, just for a few days. they love you, greeting you with kind smiles and warm hugs, pulling you inside as they get dinner ready. you visit his old room and smile as you rake your fingers over the figures on his desk and the cd’s he used to collect. his mother keeps his room in perfect condition, even after all these years.
you remind him to call more. sometimes, he tries—just for you, he tries. it’s hard for him, you realize. sometimes suguru is guilty; sometimes, he’s haunted by what he almost did but thankfully didn’t. it’s hard to face his parents ever since, even if they’re blissfully unaware. it’s easier to love them from afar, he thinks. but you insist he calls more, so he does. sometimes hearing his mother’s voice is what he needs, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.
“so…what’ll happen to them?” you ask quietly.
“they’re at the school for tonight,” he mumbles, “there’s enough bedrooms, anyway. but…”
but they can’t stay there forever, is what he wants to say, you know that. staying at jujutsu high is hardly enough for children so young. they need a proper home, a proper family. you can’t help but stare down at your own bowl of soba. it’s hard to watch children suffer like this. it’s especially hard on suguru—he chose to teach to help those kids, to be there. somethings, however, cannot be fixed by simply being there.
“and then what will happen after?”
“they need a home,” he says quietly, “and…listen, i know we never really…we’ve never discussed something like this. but…maybe for a while, just until something better is decided, we could…”
you know what he’s trying to say before he can even say it—you and suguru have never discussed children. you don’t think you ever really want to, and you’re fairly certain he feels the same. it’s hard to lose haibara when you’re just a young kid, hard to live with the fact that someone so young and hopeful about the world is here one second and then gone the next. you see nanami sometimes—he’s kind to you, greets you politely, and asks how you are. but nothing about him has ever been the same since that day.
will your children meet the same fate? will you have them one second and lose them the next? will you patiently wait for them to come to visit the next chance they get from school, only to get a phone call no parent deserves to hear? they’re common in the jujutsu world. it’s a risk every parent has to take. some are selfish—rightfully so. some don’t care to let their children master their techniques, arguing it’s better to have a child that’s incapable and alive than gifted and dead. what if your children end up like nanami? the one who manages to live but can never accept the fact, not when someone else is dead. how will you be a pillar of strength? how can you tell them it’s okay to live as long as it’s not them who’s dead? how can you help them grieve when you are always grieving yourself?
you don’t think you ever want children, and you think you’re right in your assumption that suguru agrees.
but those girls need a home, and you know the look on suguru’s face means options are limited—scarily so. you look at him for a while, look at him and see the way he’s got his heart set on these two girls—suguru has lost more than you ever could, and if this is something he thinks he should do, you think it might be worth a chance.
“bring them for dinner tomorrow,” you say finally, bringing soba to your lips, “i’d like to meet them.”
it’s not a straight answer, but it’s a start. suguru nods, smiling gently at you before he continues with his own dinner. it’s silent after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. he still steals your last bite of soba at the end, and you still roll your eyes and let him. you wash the dishes together after that, argue over whose turn it is to rinse and whose turn it is to dry—it’s routine, and you’re grateful you have something to look forward to in this cruel world, something you can count on regularly.
—————
hasaba nanako and hasaba mimiko.
those are their names. megumi says so when he first brings them to suguru. nanako is blonde, a bit bolder than mimiko, who’s brunette. nanako is older by five minutes, and she likes to remind everyone when she can. mimiko holds nanako’s hand when she’s nervous, and nanako squeezes tightly with a smile. they’re a mellow pair, despite it all. a little distrusting and a little nervous when too many people are in a room at once.
they take a liking to suguru, however. satoru is a bit too loud and boisterous for them, but suguru is kind and soft and gives them gentle head pats when they cooperate and answer his questions. on the way home, he asks them if they’d like something from the bakery.
it leaves them a bit quiet, right until he looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow as he awaits their answer.
“we’ve never been to one,” nanako answers quietly, the first to speak between the two, as always.
“is that so?” suguru asks gently. they nod, still holding hands.
children of five summers, and they have never picked out a cake for even a birthday—he wonders why that is. they shouldn't have shown signs of having cursed techniques so young, there should be no reason to mistreat them so early on—the conclusion he comes to makes him even unhappier. parents should never have children if they aren’t willing to love them, he thinks bitterly.
“come on then,” suguru grabs nanako’s free hand, gently pulling them both along the busy streets of tokyo, “my wife’s favorite bakery is around the corner. we’ve tried everything they have by now, so you’ll have to tell us what’s your favorite, yeah?”
it’s nanako who answers again first, nodding slowly before she smiles hopefully. “okay,” she murmurs.
from the corner of his eyes, suguru notices mimiko gently pull her hand from her sister’s, quickly taking a few steps as she walks across in front of him before promptly finding herself on his other side. her hand reaches for his—it’s slow, a bit unsure, so he grabs it delicately, giving a small squeeze as he grins down at her.
“wait until you try the strawberry cake,” he hums, “that’s my favorite.”
—————
suguru comes home with two small girls on either side of him and more bags than you can count from the bakery just five minutes from your apartment. you blink before rushing over and taking a few bags from his hands.
“did you just buy one of everything or something?” you ask incredulously, staring at all the boxes of goods within the bags.
he grins that closed-eye smile of his, crinkles forming in the corners as he says, “well, of course,” like it’s the most normal thing ever to buy one of every item in a large bakery in the heart of tokyo. “the girls have never been to a bakery before so i thought we could let them try everything and rank them.”
you look down at the girls, who stare at you nervously as they cling to each other. instantly, as soon as you meet their eyes, you can’t help but drop down to your knees to meet their level as you smile softly.
“why hello there,” you murmur, ruffling each head gently. they like that—suguru texted you that earlier, that they seem to brighten considerably when he offers them a gentle pat on the head in affection. “what are your names?”
“i’m nanako,” the blonde one answers instantly—suguru is equal parts shocked and equal parts pleased by her new air of confidence. he wonders if she’d be a bright and energetic child right about now, if the world hadn’t crushed her under and forced her to live meekly. “and i’m older by five minutes.”
“hello nanako, the eldest by five minutes,” you answer seriously, nodding as though it’s a crucial fact to her identity, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. and what about you?”
the brunette clutches her sister’s hand a little tighter—but nanako seems to have deemed you as safe. anyone geto sensei (as the other kids seem to call him) trusts is someone they don’t have to be on guard around. she nudges mimiko gently, encouraging her to tell you her name.
“i’m mimiko,” she says quietly. she seems to be holding a small, pink stuffed toy. it’s seen better days, you think, but a nice wash and a few stitches to the top of its head should have it looking quite a lot better.
“and hello to you too, mimiko,” you smile, “are you younger by five minutes, then?”
she giggles a little at that before nodding, “i am,” she assures, “but i’m smarter.”
“are not!” nanako says instantly, gasping. you and suguru share a look, amused and fond and relieved all at once.
“what a lovely toy,” you murmur, tracing the eyes with your finger. she droops a little at that—like being reminded of its condition is something that breaks her spirit.
“it’s ripped,” she mumbles, “it wasn’t before.”
“i can fix it,” you offer, “suguru is always ripping his uniforms, but lucky for him, his sweet little wife here is a fixer-upper.”
“really?” she brightens. you nod, chuckling as you ruffle her hair, doing the same to nanako, too, when she eyes you hopefully from the side.
“that sounds great,” suguru interrupts, “but i believe i have cakes that need to be tried and mouths that are not trying.”
you rise, rolling your eyes and standing next to him, and his hand gently grabs yours. thank you, he squeezes. always, you squeeze back.
“well, come on, girls,” you usher. mimiko grabs your free hand, and suguru grabs nanako’s—you all make your way to the dinner table. it feels oddly natural, you think. “we have desserts to try. the chocolate one will definitely be your favorite, i can feel it.”
“it’ll be strawberry,” suguru says confidently.
you meet his gaze, grinning at him as he stares at you hopelessly in love. it’s always been enough, you and suguru—it’s always been more than enough with just the two of you. so enough, that you never wanted more. but this is nice too, you think. this is something you could get used to, even if it breaks the routine you’ve learned to love just a bit.
—————
nanako and mimiko stay at your house that night, and somehow, that turns into a week. sometimes, suguru takes them with him to school, just to handle a few things that are still to be taken care of regarding their case. you find you miss three instead of one while you’re home alone for the day.
they return cheery each time, bags of deserts in hand and a newfound glow in their eyes. mimiko’s toy is much cleaner now, and the small rips have been carefully sewn shut by you from the first night they spend. she clutches it everywhere she goes, hugs it in her sleep too. it’s hopelessly endearing.
nanako takes a liking to suguru’s phone—he’s a bit too giving with her, you think. she’s managed to figure out his passcode rather quickly, and he lets her get away with it, watching her small fingers work the buttons of whatever game she's downloaded with a gentle look of affection over his features.
on the days that suguru goes to school alone, the girls are left in your care for the day—you don’t usually have someone to keep you company while you’re at home. you’ve quit being a sorcerer long ago, deciding that it’s not worth the constant back-and-forth tug of war with life and death.
perhaps it's selfish—people are dying every day, and you sit and let it happen, but you can’t help it. it’s too much, sometimes. suguru has always supported it, though, has always murmured that you’re doing the right thing and that sorcerers deserve quiet, peaceful lives, too, if they wish. so you do just that, stay home and learn a new dish or two through the day, watch a few shitty sitcoms on the television, leave and do some grocery shopping for the week, and return home to your quiet little apartment (as quiet as an apartment can get in tokyo, that is) and wait for your husband to come home.
suguru comes home by seven pm every day and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead as he says, hello, wife, to which you giggle and murmur, hi there, husband. you have dinner after that and share details about your days with each other. yuji and nobara are arguing again, suguru will tell you sometimes, i think nobara will cave and talk first this time, though. i brought fresh strawberries from the season’s harvest, you murmur behind a glass of water to your lips, got them just for you, sugu.
it’s been a routine like that ever since your marriage. you marry suguru quietly when you barely turn twenty, just a room full of the few people you dare let yourself love and the two of you as you sign the papers and share a kiss. there’s an extravagant meal waiting for you after, though, courtesy of gojo satoru, a man with more money than he could hope to use on himself. satoru is happy that day—happier than you’ve ever seen him in a long, long while. he takes his bandages off, sits and watches everything, and takes it all in even if it’ll bite him back in the ass later with a long, pounding migraine.
today, however, is a saturday—school is out, and anyone who doesn’t have a mission is free to have the day to themselves. suguru hasn’t taken a large mission in ages, years, even. he accepts small ones here and there, and if it really calls for it, he joins a tough one with his students—but it’s for their sake more than anything. but the big ones are too much for him to handle regularly anymore. the higher-ups aren’t happy—special-grade sorcerers are hard to come by, and it’s unfair that the lower-grade ones are busting their necks out there more than he is. but suguru deserves a semblance of control over his well-being, and with satoru on his side, there isn’t much of anything the higher-ups can really do.
he sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone as you click the remote, finding something to watch.
“you know, we should really talk about this,” suguru mumbles from the side. it’s early, still. barely eight am, and the girls are still sleeping. they’ll be up soon—and with that, will be gone any moment for you and suguru to share a private moment.
they didn’t warn you about that part of kids—you knew it was a busy job, watching over them, but you figured leaving them to play for a bit would grant you some peace. you and suguru quickly learn that children, no matter how well-behaved and disciplined, always need a watchful eye on them.
“talk about what?” you yawn, “it’s too early for you to speak in codes.”
“the girls,” he says, unimpressed. oh. right.
“what about them?” you say, dancing around the edge of the real issue. he sees right through you—you know he will. still, you’re petulant enough to try and dodge the topic anyway.
“it’s been a week,” he says seriously, “those kids think this is their new home. it’s cruel to make them think that any longer if we don’t…”
keep them. let them stay. let them become a part of this home and, by extension, this family that has always just been you and suguru. raise them. take them in. take responsibility over them. love them.
can you love? like that, at least? are you meant to be a mother? you’re too selfish, you think—you couldn’t even stay fighting curses for long, too weak to care about those who need you, and too focused on needing yourself. can you handle two children? if you do this, you can’t do anything else but do it right—it’s what they deserve. but you don’t know if you can give them what they deserve.
but there aren’t many better options either, you remind yourself.
suguru seems to know what you’re thinking because he murmurs, “i think it’s easier to raise children than be a sorcerer,” he says quietly.
you raise an eyebrow skeptically. “you can walk away from being a sorcerer, suguru. being a parent is for life.”
“being a parent means you get to love,” he reasons, “unconditionally. without regrets. without a contract, you know? loving a sorcerer is just betting how long someone has left to live, at the end of the day.”
“how morbid of you,” you snort.
“they’re good kids,” he says quietly, “great, even.”
“they’re lovely,” you agree. and then, quieter this time, “i…i would miss them. more than i care to admit.”
“me too,” he nods.
your head falls to his chest, and he presses a kiss to your head, wrapping his arms around you. suguru has always loved you—when the world was not worth loving, and the people were not worth saving, suguru had loved you. he still does. and the way you love him is enough to make all of those things change. the world has a little more hope, and the people are a little less ugly when you’re there to prove not everything is bad. that even where the bad exists, the good can follow. as long as he has you, suguru is complete—but he thinks more is not always so bad.
“suguru?” you ask gently. he hums, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he squeezes your hand, “we won’t force them,” you say firmly, “to do anything. they should exist as themselves if they want to. cursed techniques or not.”
he smiles. you don’t see it, and you don’t have to. you know it’s that deep, eye-crinkling smile that’s heartfelt and real.
“no, we won’t force them,” he agrees, “they’re perfect as is.”
—————
the girls are given the option to each get the two spare rooms you and suguru have in your apartment. that leaves ultimately no guest room, but you think they deserve to have their own space and be their own people after everything. but, as you and he had expected, they choose to share a room and stay together.
you’ll never forget the looks on their faces when they realize they’re staying here permanently, the look of pure excitement and the slightest hints of shock—you never realized how fulfilling it could be to make two children smile like that.
“we can’t paint the walls,” you hum, “we don’t own this place. but we can still decorate,” you offer.
they don’t seem all that disappointed about not being able to paint their walls—instead, they’re too excited about their beds, giggling as they jump on the mattress. suguru wants to tell them that jumping on mattresses is bad for the springs, but you stop him—they deserve to be kids for a bit. after that, you’ll teach them. but for now, they deserve to just be kids.
“can we get lights?” nanako asks—now that you and suguru are guardians to two children (parents seems…a bit too overwhelming to use right now), spontaneous dates don’t happen one on one anymore. evidently, it’s hard to find babysitters on the spot, and leaving them home alone is not an option, so you decide to simply bring them along on your weekly sunday afternoon cafe visit. nanako takes a liking to the lights on the walls, and mimiko eats three slices of cake.
you can’t wait to bring them next week, too.
“you sure can,” suguru hums, chuckling.
“and a mirror?”
“of course,” you nod, “you’ll certainly need one to make sure the beauty sleep works.”
nanako giggles, flopping onto the bed, and mimiko sits not long after, still hugging that toy to her chest as she looks around the room in wonder. they’ve been sleeping in it for over a week now, but now that they can officially call it their own, they seem to be much more attached.
“i want pink sheets,” nanako hums.
“i want blue,” mimiko mumbles, looking at you shyly.
“well,” suguru murmurs so that only you can hear, “maybe we can get them two beds. smaller one—they’ll fit on either side.”
“and what do we do with this one, then?” you raise a brow.
“we…sell it?”
“suguru, are you trying to drain every last bit of our savings?”
“we have plenty,” he chuckles, “we don’t ever do anything.”
that much is true—you and suguru hardly leave tokyo let alone japan, and though you let yourselves splurge on nice things, there isn’t much to spend on between two people. but the last few days have really put into perspective how…expensive raising children can be. clothing and school supplies (they’ll attend a normal school) and room decor and snacks, and anything else children require to be children is quite denting to bank accounts.
but you and suguru can’t say you mind—and if nanako and mimiko want pink and blue sheets, well…you think you can make that happen.
“i think we’re spoiling them,” you mumble, “should we be doing that?”
he wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his chest as his nose presses to the top of your head when he kisses it. he’s warm, just like he always is—maybe warmer now, in fact.
“nah,” he grins, “i think we’re doing great.”
—————
the girls take their time to warm up to satoru, but when they finally do, he seems to be a favorite. satoru is very proud of this fact—he’s not a lot of children’s favorite…well, maybe yuji’s perhaps, but you don’t think yuji has a single bone in his body that could really dislike anyone. or rank them, to be quite honest—you don’t think he prefers satoru or suguru over the other.
“oh, kids,” satoru calls, stepping into your apartment and letting himself in. you and suguru are in the middle of making dinner, looking back in shock from the kitchen as satoru waves enthusiastically at you both.
“satoru, how did you even get in?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. he grins, practically giggling as he points to your husband.
“suguru gave me a key.”
“what?” suguru sputters, “no, i didn’t!”
“you let me borrow them,” satoru concedes—that’s still not even anywhere near the truth.
“i left them at your place and kindly asked you to bring them to me at work the next day,” suguru corrects, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“yes, and i did what you should have done a long time ago and made myself a copy,” satoru huffs, “i’m the best friend! i deserve a key—”
“gojo sensei!” the girls call.
as most kids do, they pick up what they hear around them. everyone seems to refer to satoru and suguru as gojo sensei and geto sensei. they’re not students, but nanako and mimiko both pick up on the habit too—and it’s helplessly adorable, you can’t deny.
sometimes, you want to correct them, but they seem excited to see satoru, so you let the moment pass.
“there they are!” satoru beams, taking his blindfold off and crouching down to meet them in the eye—nanako and mimiko seem to find satoru infinitely more approachable when his eyes are out and easy to look into. you can’t imagine why—he looks like a creep. “i brought dessert! because what’s life without something sweet, right? are these two feeding you girls the sugar you need to grow into tall, healthy young women?”
“this is why you should never be allowed near children,” you say flatly.
satoru looks at you with a pointed look, “i practically raised megumi and tsumiki, y’know. saving young siblings and giving them a nice home life is old news, i already did that. be more original, please.”
what a jackass—you scowl at him, throwing the wooden spoon in your hand at his head and watching as it doesn’t even touch him and falls to the floor. curse his infinity.
“okay, now,” suguru chuckles, “i don’t want to spend the evening looking after four children instead of two—”
“geto sensei! thanks for having us over for dinner,” yuji interrupts, stepping through the door that satoru took such great care not to close, “fushiguro was a bit of a hassle to convince, though.”
suguru throws a sharp glare at satoru as soon as three of their students step into your home—you’re going to have to forget the dinner you’re making and order takeout, you think. satoru will pay.
“this is why you didn’t get a key,” suguru hisses, “because then you act like you own the place.”
“i wanted a family gathering,” satoru gasps, “tsumiki is coming too! wait for her.”
despite the way suguru grabs satoru’s hair—and satoru, for some reason, turns off his infinity and lets him—you notice the corners of your husband’s mouth twitching into a gentle smile, and you know he’s thinking the same thing as you. family—nanako and mimiko are here, and so are yuji, and nobara, and megumi, and satoru (the biggest headache), and soon, tsumiki too.
family—yes, this is family, you think.
—————
“daddy, i’m hungry,” mimiko tugs on suguru’s sleeve.
“i know, pumpkin, just give me a second and—”
“daddy, look! i beat the high score on my game and—”
“daddy is looking, sweetie, just give me one minute, nanako, yeah? daddy will look and—”
“satoru,” suguru grumbles, “if you’re not going to help, then please leave.”
nanako and mimiko are seven now. in two years, their personalities have really blossomed—something which you and suguru are very grateful for. the world should not crush children so young that they don’t get to be the children they are meant to be. you and suguru take great care to make sure they know they can be kids.
and they are—they whine about bedtime and pick at their vegetables and point at everything in the store and plead for something new. they’re children—your children, and you can’t help but love them unconditionally so.
“well, welcome to fatherhood,” suguru snaps, trying his best to make lunch and entertain the two girls waiting for his attention.
suguru is a good father—a gentle one, in fact. he comes home every day from work and grins, asking in that smooth voice of his, where are my ladies? and just like that, you and your two girls meet him with excited grins. you peck his lips before he crouches down and pulls two small bodies against his chest, letting their tiny arms wrap around his neck as he hoists them up.
it’s a perfect little routine, one you cherish greatly. but the girls are getting older, and soon, they’ll be too heavy to carry like this. it makes you a little sad to think about—but if there’s one thing you’ve learned, breaking routine isn’t always so bad. soon there will be a new one, and when you outgrow that, another new one, and so on.
what won’t ever change is the way you love suguru, and he loves you, and you both love your daughters, and they love you both too.
“daddy,” nanako calls, “where’s mommy?”
“at the store, nanako,” he says patiently, sighing. this is the fifth time she’s asked.
“when will she be back?”
“soon, nanako,” he smiles assuringly, “at least, i hope so,” he adds quietly, under his breath.
satoru hears, though—and he cackles, heinously loud, too, as he watches the scene unfold in amusement. but satoru is suguru’s best friend, and yours too. and the girls love him. he’s family—and so are their students.
it’s nice, suguru thinks, it’s nice to have something worth smiling for.
“i’m home!” you call, “is satoru here? because the door was unlocked—”
“mommy!” the girls call, cutting you off with the pitter-patter of small, excited little feet hitting the ground and greeting you.
“why hello,” you gasp excitedly, laughing as they tackle you in a hug.
you and suguru share a smile as he looks back—family, it’s what you’ve both built here. it’s slow at first, and sometimes it wasn’t easy. at one point, it was just the two of you, just you and suguru, and that was okay. you didn’t think you would ever be capable of letting it be more—but it’s nice when it grows, you think. maybe one day, you can dare to hope to grow it some more.
the scene were they got 2 beds—that was me and my sister when we first moved into our weeeee lil apartment back when i was in middle school !! we were bummed bc we couldn't paint the walls but our parents let us have 2 beds so we could pick our sheets !! it was a fond memory LOL but now i DO have a room where i painted the color except i HATE the color now bc i was still in middle school when we moved into our house and got to pick colors and middle school me and adult me are soooo different so now i have a teal bedroom that haunts me
Gojo Satoru has 100% put a padlock through Geto’s earlobe and ran away with the key.
On the rare days Geto doesn’t wear his usual solid plugs (or when he’s about to put them in), Gojo turns into a completely different type of menace that makes Geto seriously consider strangling him.
It all started when Geto opted to wear tunnels instead of his usual plugs one day. Gojo started acting weird (more weird than usual), giving him weird looks throughout the day and eventually asked the earholed(?) teen in question about them.
Once the White Haired Little Dingus found out that Geto simply switches it up from time to time was the day that Padlock Wars started.
That same night of aforementioned day, Gojo snuck up behind an unsuspecting, tired Geto and slipped the padlock in his ear, locking it before running away with key hanging from his finger.
Ever since that day, Geto has worn the tunnels less and less, and ended up just not wearing them anymore. The memory of Geto having to beg Shoko to pick at the padlock and waiting for it to finally unlock all while wishing he was asleep after a long day, haunted him. But that didn’t stop sneaky Satoru.
Somehow, Mr. Honored One developed a spidey sense for when Geto’s earlobes would be open for padlocking. In the early hours of the morning he would strike, teleporting to Geto’s room and committing the act in a flash. He would then teleport back to his own room and pretend to be asleep while Geto barges into his room and chews him out for the cursed act. Gojo always kept a padlock in his pocket for instances like these.
Time wasn’t too kind for the duo, and the days of being a student at jujutsu tech had been long over for Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t keep padlocks in his pockets anymore, but he keeps the first one he ever used on his other half on his nightstand. A reminder of simpler and happier times.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this drabble! I saw this one picture (I will repost this and post the picture in question) and I just ran with it. I hope y’all have good days and good sleep! <3
Gojo Satoru has 100% put a padlock through Geto’s earlobe and ran away with the key.
On the rare days Geto doesn’t wear his usual solid plugs (or when he’s about to put them in), Gojo turns into a completely different type of menace that makes Geto seriously consider strangling him.
It all started when Geto opted to wear tunnels instead of his usual plugs one day. Gojo started acting weird (more weird than usual), giving him weird looks throughout the day and eventually asked the earholed(?) teen in question about them.
Once the White Haired Little Dingus found out that Geto simply switches it up from time to time was the day that Padlock Wars started.
That same night of aforementioned day, Gojo snuck up behind an unsuspecting, tired Geto and slipped the padlock in his ear, locking it before running away with key hanging from his finger.
Ever since that day, Geto has worn the tunnels less and less, and ended up just not wearing them anymore. The memory of Geto having to beg Shoko to pick at the padlock and waiting for it to finally unlock all while wishing he was asleep after a long day, haunted him. But that didn’t stop sneaky Satoru.
Somehow, Mr. Honored One developed a spidey sense for when Geto’s earlobes would be open for padlocking. In the early hours of the morning he would strike, teleporting to Geto’s room and committing the act in a flash. He would then teleport back to his own room and pretend to be asleep while Geto barges into his room and chews him out for the cursed act. Gojo always kept a padlock in his pocket for instances like these.
Time wasn’t too kind for the duo, and the days of being a student at jujutsu tech had been long over for Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t keep padlocks in his pockets anymore, but he keeps the first one he ever used on his other half on his nightstand. A reminder of simpler and happier times.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this drabble! I saw this one picture (I will repost this and post the picture in question) and I just ran with it. I hope y’all have good days and good sleep! <3
